For the first time since I’ve arrived in this land, a light rain has passed through. Rather than the ominous clouds that trailed Purple Armored Man, this rain was a brilliant spring rain, that caught the radiance of rainbows in intermittent droplets. The goblins all ran out from their tents and danced and celebrated. Apparently these spring rains are rare, and to be celebrated among their people. Even Crutch and Gubweh are out dancing. Worms race on a nearby track as one goblin collects bets of Yummynuts into a large pile. Some goblins bet on the outer ring, risking more Yummynuts for a higher payout, while others play it safe to amass more Yummynuts at a slower rate.
It’s been about a week, and despite my ankle almost certainly having shattered under the weight of Purple Armored Man’s foot slam, it seems to have almost healed, though a slight limp remains. Crutch’s cane that he so masterfully carved for me is a perfect height for me to use, giving great assistance to my stride. Lyrie and Iskander have been training alongside some of the more physically fit goblins in my Premium Training Classes. They’ve all learned, at the very least, how to throw a punch, and how to grapple. It’s a wonder that these uncivilized people managed to fell wild beasts before I arrived, but, with how this world operates, I wouldn’t be surprised if, should I join them on a hunt, the goats willingly approach my blade to have their throats sliced. I suppose the saying, “lambs to the slaughter” must have come from somewhere. Though, I never took it to mean wild rams, but rather, the domestic kind.
Much of the food the Gubweh tribe produces is heavily gamey, as well. Their vegetables boil and cook for long times in the stews, and spices are rare. I’ve begun grinding up some Yummynuts, both to ensure no inflation ruins the currency’s viability before I can begin minting coins, and to use as a seasoning, as, given the name, the nuts are indeed quite yummy. I was used to having private chefs in my prior living, but I’ve grown used to preparing some food for myself while among the Gubweh, as I don’t necessarily trust their cooking acumen. Perhaps, once I teach them how to cook properly, instead of stewing everything, I can show them how to set a market price on fish and meat.
“Mark!” Skan waves at me. “The scouts have arrived with a message!” Two goblin scouts stand near him, with a piece of parchment. I approach the group of three, taking note to lean on my cane as I walk. My ankle still isn’t fully healed, and for each step that I take on it, I’m reminded of my loss to the Purple Armored Man.
“Well? What does it say?” I grab the scroll from Skan’s hands. It’s stamped with the symbol of Rosehill, which is simply a rose, atop a hill. It reads,
To the esteemed Chief Officer Mark Whooten,
Rosehill calls for your aid! The armies of the Dark One have come and burned our houses! Our people flee the lands! We know not of this violence, or how to stop it, but our messengers have heard word from Iskander of your nobility and power. We ask that you travel to Rosehill to help train our soldiers to fight against this menace. The Dark Magics and Energies possessed by this villain have proven too much for us alone!
Signed,
Brum of Rosehill
Well, I’m needed. And surely, with assisting these people, a reward will come. However, I cannot contest the strength of the Purple Armored Man alone just yet, nor with these soldiers in their current state. I’ll need to train them. And, of course, the local economy would collapse without my guiding hand. Surely Rosehill can wait, if only for another week or two? I’m in no state to lead an army in battle.
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“Sounds bad. I do hope my family is safe!” Skan says, loudly. The two messengers seem mostly unbothered, so it’s likely any carnage was minimal or contained. I look at Skan once more. His family is fine. He’ll be fine.
“Alright, everyone! Training time! If you’re subscribed to my Premium Training Plan, follow me over here! I’m going to teach you the basics of battle and warfare!” I take the lead over a small wooden bridge into a nearby clearing. We’ve been using it for basic training, and I’ve taught them how to throw punches and rocks. Now, it’s time to teach them how to swing a blade. Surely, it can’t be too hard. After all, Dungeon Crawler X was practically entirely made reality by myself, and you use a sword in it.
Before me, Skan and Lyrie stand, as well as a number of goblins, with Crutch and the Gubweh among them. Individuals hold up mock blades, as the hunting knives they use are made of stone, and I have yet to get a proper forge going in the encampment. I hold a wooden-carved mock blade out in front of myself. It’s poorly balanced, with most of the weight being in the blade rather than in the hilt, so it’s difficult for me to hold. However, due to my excellent competency, I’m able to adjust to the blade quickly.
“Alright, men. Here is how you wield a blade!” I hold the hilt, one hand over the other, as though it were a baseball bat. It feels natural and proper. “And to strike at your enemy, you swing!” I demonstrate, with a flourishing swing of the blade, that cuts through the air with ease. It feels right, but when the goblins mimic me, it looks all wrong. “Hm… No. This won’t do. Dungeon Crawler looked much more… poised, when he swung his blade. Here, try holding it like…” I approach one of the goblins and adjust their grip. It looks more natural, and menacing. The goblin swings overhead, now, and it seems proper. “Very good! Now, you teach the others.” I stand back and watch as the sword strikes grow more precise and measured.
After another hour or two of basic technique, I collect the Premium fees and pocket the Yummynuts, after eating one or two. Skan approaches me as the lesson ends and the goblins begin to disperse. “Chief Officer Mark.” Skan says, with respect in his voice. “One of the scouts reported a presence causing concern around the edge of camp. We might want to investigate before we go to Rosehill. Though, I’d love to urgently help my people, if the camp is in danger, Rosehill cannot be helped by us.” I look at Skan. He has determination on his face.
“Very well! Let us investigate!” I grab a stone hunting knife and begin to follow Skan out into the woods surrounding the camp. As he moves, I observe his agility and balance. He maneuvers with ease and grace, like an assassin, but with no malice in his step. Even the leaves don’t crackle beneath his feet, as he moves with purpose and poise. We arrive at the scene. My eyes lock on to it. A strange font, with a purple magical aura gushing forth. As I get close, the light trickling sound grows clearer. This purple is certainly the same shade as that of the Purple Armored Man’s purple armor. I feel compelled to reach out towards it. Skan looks on, concerned.
As my hand brushes the magical aura, I feel more powerful. It absorbs into my skin. And suddenly, just like that, the font dries up and stops flowing. Though, I still hear it trickling beneath the soil. I lean forward, and start to dig with the knife. I dig more, and more. Suddenly, the dirt collapses in, and a reserve of the purple energy is exposed. When the surface breaks, however, the sounds of hollow screams emanate from it. Skan suddenly looks ill, and begins to vomit on the soil. The aura entrances me, and I reach further into it.
There’s no doubt. This is making me more powerful. And, despite the fact that it comes from beneath the ground, it doesn’t seem to be of this world. It’s thick, and coagulates, but absorbs through the skin easily.
“Skan. I believe this presence might just be a sort of DLC package. And it’s not exactly balanced.” I look at my left hand, now glowing with a radiant purple energy. The Bluewood cane in my right hand, and the Stones of the Moon embedded into it, suddenly splinter and shatter, setting off a magical explosion, knocking Skan and myself to our backs. But, I stand up, and feel fine. No, not fine. I feel good.