Chapter 37 - Forward not Back

Despite what they asked of me, I did nod off a couple of times. I couldn’t help it. We finally had a wall between us and the horde of flesh eating monsters, and my part was done. Plus, if you were to believe the System, I was starving to death, so a lack of energy was probably normal.

If only they’d just let me be.

“Strip everything off. I need to see.”

“Why are we stripping the monk, Volpa?”

“I need to make sure he’s not bleeding or burned somewhere I can’t see. We have to treat it conventionally if that’s the case. I dare not use my magic again.”

“It worked fine last time.”

“You call *this* fine?”

“No… Sorry.”

I could feel myself being turned around, the remains of my clothes being peeled away, even my stupid orange hat. Funny that it had survived so long. Was it made of some kind of special material? It would have to be flame retardant if nothing else.

“Looks like the arm is part of his dominion sign afterall,” someone murmured. “I thought it might have been another one of his inventions, but look here. It grafts right into the skin.”

Delicate fingers played over my scalp. “He’s not Miur.”

“Who could possibly care, Sam?”

“Well, I’d guessed that he was a Miur with how he talks, but he’s not. Don’t judge me, he always had the thing on.”

A weight settled on my chest, light, warm. “Who has food? Give it to me. This is dry. Going to need water too.”

I was slapped again. When had I nodded off?

“Drink it, Brother Ryan.”

A vessel was pressed to my lips, and a cold, lumpy porridge was poured into my mouth. I didn’t take it well. I coughed and gagged, but they were quite insistent that I take the whole thing. I got as much into me as I could, but the process was slow and infuriating when I’d much rather be passed out on the floor.

Status lost: Starvation

Status gained: Underfed (severe)

By the time the torture was done, everyone had quieted down, and most had gone to get their own types of rest now that they knew I wasn’t about to die.

Trix and Samila propped me up against one of the stone walls and pushed a cup with more of the porridge into my hand, though I didn’t feel like eating. My HP was ticking up again, now that Starvation was gone, but I still felt hollow and weak. I did have enough mana to reach up and gently charge a cobblestone above my head with Volatility just enough to give off a gentle glow, enough to at least be able to see.

The tunnel we’d escaped to was pretty tight, the floor maybe five feet wide while the walls went straight up then gently curved into a basic arch maybe eight feet high at its apex. The masonry was a smooth, irregular white stone, affixed with moldy, crumbling mortar. To my right, more near the staircase to the Undercity, I saw a recessed part of the wall, a little alcove that I imagined someone might set a lantern.

It was almost depressingly utilitarian after the strange eccentricities of the Undercity.

Samila was to my side, close. Close enough that I might find myself leaning on her if I were to pass out again. The blue woman’s eyes were closed, head resting against the stones of the wall, but I couldn’t tell if she was sleeping or not. She seemed smaller like this, relaxed to the point that her armor was the only thing keeping her upright, an exoskeleton that only allowed for a certain level of rest.

For his part, Trix sat across from me, his fur in disarray, his head and shoulders slumped forward like he didn’t have the energy to raise them just now. My little pistol sat between his outstretched feet. His breathing was rhythmic and slow, but his eyes were shut tight and his ears were laid flat on his head.

Not everyone was at rest, however.

The clomp of boots from my left, further down the hall, preceded Sissa stepping into my makeshift wall lamp’s light. She looked tired but a little more herself now that the immediate danger was done.

“You’re looking much better, Mo- Brother Ryan,” she said. She actually used my name. That was new, though my fake title did sour the moment somewhat. Sissa crouched down next to her sister and ran her hand gently over the other woman’s cheek, wiping off a smudge of grime. Then she turned back to me, squinting.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were getting healthy right in front of my eyes.”

This was the part where I was supposed to allay suspicion, come up with some explanation that would fit, but nothing came. I just opened and closed my mouth a couple times then sipped my cold porridge.

“That is, indeed, what is happening,” Trix interjected flatly, not bothering to open his eyes. “His burns are disappearing, his veins are lighter, and he’s actually gained muscle mass, more than a ration of gruel could possibly provide. I’ve never seen anything like it. I would be astonished if I had the energy just now.”

Sissa raised an eyebrow and let out a little whistle. “You’re made of deceptively tough stuff, Brother Ryan. Sam, you have my blessing to marry this one. With his dominion, your kids wouldn’t even need supervision to live to adulthood.”

I sputtered, the porridge suddenly grabbing onto the back of my throat and refusing to let go.

“See, this is why I thought he was Miur, Sis. He scares easily,” Samila replied, fully awake now and grinning wickedly at me along with her sister.

I really didn’t know what to say to that. Nothing in my entire lexicon seemed to fit the situation. Being the clan pariah hadn’t done much for my social skills, and I hadn’t done much to rectify that by spending the majority of my time alone.

Sissa only let me suffer for half a minute before she was back to business. “Well, I’m sorry to have disturbed you all, but it seems we’ve traded one problem for another,” she said matter of factly.

“What’s going on, Sergeant? What new horror has the darkness conjured to test us?” Trix asked, leaning his head back to thump it off the stone of the wall over and over.

I squinted, trying to interpret his expression. I’d only known him a little while, but Trix didn’t seem to be himself.

Sissa must have shared my concern. She gave the little Volpa a look, but Trix didn’t elaborate.

“I’ve gone further down the tunnel,” Sissa continued. “and sifted through the rubble we have down here. Bole’s yellow arrows, the ones that keep us on the safe path, there are none.”

Now this was a subject I was more comfortable with. Put me in front of a wall of snarling death or above a bottomless pit, as long as I don't have to answer personal questions.

I was in such a hurry to dive into the subject, I think I overdid it. “How- BLAPFT” I choked. Then I was beset by a coughing fit that brought up something unpleasant. The smell and taste reminded me of the hell-vomit I’d experienced earlier. Apparently, some of it was still stuck to my vocal chords. Wonderful.

“How do we navigate without them then?” I rasped.

Sissa shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“The way Corporal Bole spoke, he implied you had some knowledge of the smuggler’s tunnels, Sergeant,” Trix recalled. He didn’t bother to open his eyes.

The guardswoman’s expression hardened at the mention of the man, and her hand drifted to her sword hilt. She made no move to draw it, however.

Samila spoke up for her. “Sissa wasn’t a part of that world. Bole’s a thief and a liar.”

Sissa put her hand out and shook her head. “I just socialized in those circles for a time. I never did anything illegal, and, because of that, I was never fully brought into their trust. What I know of the smuggler’s tunnels are just stories passed down from drunk blowhards that couldn’t shut up around female company.”

“What can you tell us then?” I asked.

Sissa ran a hand over her face and rubbed at her eyes with an ungloved hand. “It’s probably not accurate. Conjecture from dishonest and disreputable people. More liable to bias us against what we’ll encounter than inform.”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“We need to know at least the outlines of the problem, Sergeant,” I added, a bit more strength in my voice now. “I’d take an exaggerated account over nothing right now.”

Seemingly resigned, she took a step to the side to put her back against the wall, then slid down next to her sister, sighing as she did.

“Based on the stories I’ve heard, we’ve gone from certain death to death for certain,” she said. “These tunnels were made alongside the Undercity for the Dark Lord’s personal use. Secret, or at least restricted, access tunnels. Supposedly, they go everywhere, every part of the city, but no one’s ever mapped them all out before.”

I tentatively raised a hand. “Sorry. I’m not from here. Isn’t this city extremely old? Why has no one explored them? If I had a network of secret tunnels underneath my house, I would be down there all the time until I knew what I was dealing with.”

“Then you’re the type that would venture into them and never come back, Brother Ryan,” Sissa said with a shrug. “You think no one has tried? There’s a whole industry built on it, selling gear to foolish tourists in Bog Town that want to make a name for themselves.”

She shook her head disdainfully. “Before the Crusaders liberated the entirety of Eclipse and cut down the Dark Lord in his Observatory, where do you think they suffered the majority of their losses? It wasn’t at the hands of the Returned, I’ll tell you that.”

I noticed Trix perk up at the mention of this. He’d opened his eyes and leaned forward, ears arrayed to catch every bit of the story. His expression was still… pained maybe(?), but he was actively listening now.

Sissa continued.

“After a month of frustrated stalemate trying to batter down the doors to the Dark Lord’s sanctum, the sappers found one of these entrances by chance. ‘Finally,’ they thought. Maybe it wasn’t progress, per se, but it was something, some direction to go. So, they sent in teams of scouts to find out where the tunnels went. They didn’t come back. Well, you’ve probably read what the Crusaders were like. If something struck them, they made sure to smear that something’s insides over several city blocks. Some of their people were dead, so that warranted a full scale invasion, full kits and blessings. They sent an entire battalion inside tasked with killing whatever beasts they found and mapping a route of ingress to the Observatory. They succeeded but at great cost. Only a handful out of a thousand lived to report back. They cut their way through the Dark Lord’s pets, smashed the traps they could find, and blazed their way into the Sanctum. That’s still the safest part of the smuggler’s tunnels. Ever hear of Gnima’s Corridor? That’s what they’re talking about.”

“So, we are in an unmapped part of the tunnels,” I inferred.

“Probably. I’m not saying no one’s ever been down here, but they either didn’t bother to mark things or they’re dead.”

“We can’t go back,” Trix said.

“No, we can’t, Volpa,” Sissa replied. “We are down to three capable fighters now that Brother Ryan is-”

“I’ll be fine,” I objected. Probably better than fine, once I got more of my HP back and a little more food in me. I’d leveled, afterall. Now that my mind was engaged again, I wanted to sit down and make some choices.

“Apologies,” Sissa said with a little nod in my direction. “We still can’t go back there, though. The only way is forward.”

“In that case, I say we push on as soon as possible.” Geddon loomed into the light from the stairwell. His posture was hunched now that he was in close quarters with us all, but that didn’t stop him from absolutely filling the hall. “The entrance is good and sealed. The Returned are still attempting to claw their way inside, but the barrier hasn’t budged even slightly.”

Sissa nodded. “I agree. We can’t stay here, and we can’t go back. We’ll need to brave the unknown and hope to cross the smugglers’ ways. We’ll get some rest then it’ll be time to move again.”

—--------------------------------

I absentmindedly took a sip from my fourth cup of cold porridge as I stared at the text on my screen, contemplating my next move. I’d volunteer to take watch, since I’d gotten some sleep and would be better served with some time to eat.

With everyone still and, presumably, unconscious, our tunnel’s ambient noise level dropped to tomb quiet. The loudest snorers of the group were the shopkeeper and, surprisingly, Sissa. When that woman decided to rest, she rested hard.

While everyone else slept, I had a choice to make.

Allocate focus point to increase Depth? Y/N

I focused on the word Depth.

Depth: Degree of intensity, measured in focus points. Investing focus points in an aspect of your being produces a qualitative difference in the aspect’s strength, growth, and potential. Every level of Depth allows for greater awareness and mastery of yourself as related to the affected aspect.

And here we have another layer of the System. Am I going to keep stumbling upon these for the rest of my life?

The language being used here was interesting. I’d thought of the System’s numerical values as a concrete thing, standardized and categorized for every Exotic. The guy with 100 Body would be able to lift more than the guy with 80. Now, though, it was telling me that by adding one of these focus points, I’d alter the formula somehow. It would be a qualitative difference where points with Depth meant more than points without.

If I were able to look at other Exotics’ status screens, did my numbers stack up with theirs? Did we even use the same scale?

Of course, I had to do it. No mentor was going to pop out of the walls to tell me what was going on, and I needed all the edge I could get.

The only question was where I’d put the point.

I chose ‘Yes.’ Then I was simply looking at my status screen.

Ryan Kotes - Level 10 Animator (Uncommon)

Type: Artificer (Common)

Core: Engine (Unique)

HP: 130/130

MP: 113/113

Attributes:

Body: 26

Mind: 24

Spirit: 38

Free attribute points: 1

Free focus points: 1

Abilities

Shape 8 (Transmute)

Consume 4

Iron Grip 4

Devouring Grasp 4

Volatility 3

Imbue 3

Trigger 4

Automate 4

Tempered Channels 1

Skills

Climbing 5

Unarmed Combat 3

Running 4

Stealth (Gray Man) 9

Conduit 3

Split Mind 6

Spear 4

Deception 5 (+)

Affinities:

Goblinoid F

Iron F +

Steel F +

Magnesium F

Mendau Wood D

Limestone E

Okay. So what do I do?

Experimentally, I honed in on the Body attribute.

Allocate focus point to Body? Y/N

So, it was as simple as that. No information. No fanfare.

Of the three attributes I’d been using since I received my Exotic status, I wasn’t overly sure which one would be the most valuable.

Body literally kept me alive, which I found incredibly useful. Making the stat better wouldn’t be a bad idea.

Mind governed my mana and a fair number of abilities and skills. Not only that, but it affected my mental acuity. What would a point of depth do there?

Meanwhile Spirit was far and away my highest stat and did its fair share. Putting a focus point in that would, in theory, make all those points mean more. I’d get the most bang for my buck if I chose that one, at least immediately.

I blinked. Was I thinking about this correctly?

Again, I focused on a different part of my status screen.

Allocate focus point to Shape (Transmute)? Y/N

Oh. That’s interesting.

I tried something else.

Allocate focus point to Spear? Y/N

I swallowed. A little lump had appeared in my throat. It was an option any number of the people in my Clan would have chosen. Maybe not the Spear skill. They’d choose the skill that matched their heirloom weapons, of course.

Just having the opportunity was… It hurt.

What I wouldn’t have given to have this chance back on Proxis. I would have given everything, especially if I had the Sword skill. My father would have been so proud.

Then the moment passed.

I wasn’t that person anymore, obviously.

Okay, Ryan. Think. The System says that you’ll gain awareness and mastery in all things related to where you put this point. What do you need?

I needed everything. I was inadequate in lots of ways. My class was meant for building, not fighting. My HP and MP were constantly being taxed to their limits. My combat skills were severely lacking too.

What sets you apart?

Engine. The error messages.

I’d concluded long ago that Engine wasn’t something I was meant to have. By some wildly improbable chance, I’d been integrated while being run through with a spooky sword, and the System had compensated by rearranging things so that I could live. It was the first thing in my new life that wasn’t what it was supposed to be.

Then there was Volatility. I’d received it through an error in the System, when I’d earned an achievement meant for a different class. It was still a big part of my success. The fact that it never leveled left it out of the running though.

There was another one too…

I checked my status screen again. There it was. I’d nearly forgotten.

Tempered Channels: By channeling multiple volatile, opposing mana types through your body, you have forced your body and spirit to adapt. Your mana pathways are permanently scarred. Sensitivity to and control of foreign mana types moderately decreased. Strength and control of personal mana type greatly increased. Personal mana type altered.

That was, in a word, frightening. Apparently, not everything we Exotics did could be healed over time. I’d done something to scar myself, and while it came with benefits, it had limited me somehow. Putting points into Tempered Channels would undoubtedly be interesting, but I knew nothing about the ability yet.

That left Automate. It was an attractive option, since it encompassed a lot of different things. It used my highest attribute, I wouldn’t have it if not for an error in the System, and it would be prohibitively expensive for any other Animator to use. My unique situation gave me the chance to not only acquire the ability but to use it enough to level it up. I also had to admit that I had a special affection for Automate, as it was an ability I earned on my own instead of having it handed to me by the System. I even got a special achievement for it.

Plus, I was a mechanic at heart. I liked making things that worked.

Allocate focus point to Automate? Y/N

Focus point allocated.

Depth increasing. Stand by....