Five hours after they had started sorting all the treasures they had acquired; Serra was beginning to get a feel for the shape of what they had all gained. They had finished with the rings and were now working their way through the larger storage chests, each of their small group walking with a small wheeled cart behind them.

Unlike the rings, the chests didn’t need to be claimed or unclaimed, which was a good thing, because Serra was fed up by the need to have to cut her finger again and again. Sure, the small wounds healed almost instantaneously, which made keeping them open long enough to bleed another fucking annoyance, but that shit was painful as all hell.

Not that she ever allowed herself to show that the pain bothered her, of course.

So, the chests were easier to go through, since all you had to do was open them and the inventory menus would popup. There were equipped with locks sure, but Osar’s gauntlet-thingy allowed him to just pop each of them open. So, it was relatively quick and now, painless going: Although there certainly were a lot of chests, as well as a whole lot more in them. In fact, Serra had found herself feeling curiously nonchalant about all the wealth on display around her. Wealth that, for all intents and purposes, belonged to her… or at least belonged to their group.

Frankly, it was a feeling she just wasn’t used to.

Serra was more familiar with, had in fact spent all her early years living in, the muck and filth of the lowest rung of Union Society.

She had been born among the Agri-Product Spires of Buruma II, to a vine-cutter family in the seventy-third Tier of Municipal Spire Seventy-Six. Her father was a vine-cutter born and bred, with permanently violet-stained hands and long thin scars from the Ridan vine’s thorns. Her mother had been one too, until she died giving birth to her third and last child, Serra’s brother Dex, who also died soon after.

It was her brother, Jerol, who scarred her cheeks.

He had come to their small hab-apartment a day after the Serra’s father died in a vat explosion accident, wearing the green coveralls and the purple breathing masks that marked out the Screamers, one of the many small gangs that infested the Spire. Serra remembered the taste of her fear and grief that day, the hopelessness of her plight and then when Jerol had peeled off his mask and explained his plans for her, the pain of the razor cutting deep into her cheeks. Jerol had rubbed Ridan sap into the wounds, numbing them at least, before bringing her over to the gang headquarters as his leecher, his errand boy, with the scars that marked ‘him’ as one of the outcast crawlers that infested the Spires lower floors.

She had been ten years old.

For the next seven years, to hide her identity as a girl, Jerol kept Serra at the dirtiest, most disgusting jobs he could think of, keeping her face covered and smelling so badly that no one wanted to be near her if they didn’t need to be. In secret, and only when they were safe in their small apartment, her brother would bring her books he stole from the higher Tier schools in order to teach Serra how to read and write, do sums, and more. During these sessions he would also slip in little tidbits of what he knew of the Spire underworld, how schemes and plans were laid and carried out and even a little bit of larceny and self-defense.

Then, when the Army recruiters came, her brother sent her out to take the tests.

Serra got through, barely, and then she was gone, carried away from her planet and the brother who had brought her up.

She would never see him again.

Serra blinked back a few tears that had risen because of her memories, wondering at their ability to affect her even in the here and now. She was at the weapons table, holding a small dagger that she quickly placed among several rows of small blades. One of Luna’s drones was stationed there, hovering in the air and using its spindly forearms to sort through the weapons already deposited, checking for damaged, flawed, or just low-quality items that it would then add to the scrap pile at the back of their work area.

Her hammer was among the weapons placed in the magical category, something that Osar had insisted on so that they could see and compare all the available weapons so that they could evaluate them and possibly choose the best weapons for each of them. Serra complied but she already knew she was still going to get the same hammer, even though there were several weapons that looked more powerful in the group.

This was Serra’s twentieth circuit of the tables, and still she was amazed, and often stumped by the variety of items they had within the rings.

She passed by the trade goods and materials table, where they were placing all the bolts of cloth, fabric, furs, silks, and various other fabric-related items. There were also entire palettes of wooden boards, lumber, and even raw logs. Furniture of all different kinds and designs were also placed here, as were stacks of metal ingots, and more, much, much more. The drones stationed in this area were robust laborer types, with long arms and strong hindquarters, and they worked to arrange the goods in proper squares under the supervision of a smaller drone which was recording everything. Several of the larger spatial chests had already been placed in the area, ready to be filled up as soon as the goods were identified and written down on the growing inventory sheet.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Serra stopped at one station which already contained a collection of chests, cases, and individual scrolls and stones of varying colors, designs, and cuts being neatly arranged by a solitary drone on the wide table. The holographic banner Luna had placed over the station read ‘spell scrolls and stones’ in bright neon red letters. Serra pulled out a long, heavy but narrow container that seemed to be made of some sort of polished golden wood.

Ice Chain Spell Stone Series (Incomplete)

See Individual Descriptions

Serra read the box’s label on the ring’s content list and placed the entire thing on the tabletop. The scorpion-like drone scuttled forward, lifting the lid with one pincer-tipped metallic claw and began panning its single crystal lens over the box’s contents. Serra caught a glimpse of black velvet and three faintly glowing bluish white stones.

“Pretty.” Angel, Serra’s personal AI, whispered within her mind.

Unlike the Captain’s Pig, who was a command AI specifically designed by Halden-Xiao for their elite team’s Corps commanders, Angel was a combat AI, with simpler functions and a more focused, some would say simpler, array of features. Serra loved the simplicity though, since it allowed her to focus on the three things she was very good at: Assessing danger, learning the foe’s weaknesses, and dishing out fucktons of damage. At times though, the limited range made Angel appear, well, stupid.

The drone finished its inspection and allowed the lid to slam down, hiding the stones from sight. Seeing her still there, the drone gave a little wiggle before picking up the box and placing it alongside the others that were already there.

Serra looked over the arranged items longingly but then just sighed and turned away.

Osar had promised them all an explanation about spells, abilities, and the System in general, but after being pestered by all the Terrans one after another throughout the afternoon, the big warrior had told them all that the explanation would have to wait for the next day, as it increasingly looked like they would not be able to finish even just placing everything on the tables before late into ship-night.

Serra looked around her as she walked, and everywhere she looked she saw more wondrous and often mysterious items on the many tables: The Ritual and Magical Materials station had two large wooden chests containing Jandis-grade polishing sand. Why was it valuable? What exactly was a barrel of Caridan Congealed Milt used for? Or Ghost Shark Sinews? Various bundles and packets of herbs, as well as small chestswith powders, vials of unknown liquids, as well as a respectable collection of healing, rejuvenation, and other potions also graced the table.

Serra stopped for a moment, placing down several more herb packets and three healing potions placed within distinctive ruby glass bottles. The team of drone servitors in charge of the area quickly moved forward, each giving her a wiggle before carrying her contributions further into the pile.

Smiling, Serra walked on.

Predictably, the station with the most variety was the Miscellaneous and/or Unidentifiable one, with a mass of objects and knick-knacks that could prove useful, in several specific ways. The drone team for this area consisted of no less than five different models, each concentrating their efforts of categorization in one section of the pile.

Angel stirred, her tags springing up over two round, platinum mercenary tokens, one for the Gajandri Behemoths and another for the Issormin Serpents. She had placed those tokens there personally, although she had no idea what they were or what they were used for. Some of the items there though ere merely classified as miscellaneous, although their purpose was readily determined: There was an entire cabinet of maps and star charts, written on all manner of materials, some even in light projecting cubes and other advanced objects.

Some though, were truly bizarre, like the stuffed head of some monster with a multitude of eyes and several siphon-like mouthparts. Was it a trophy or a piece of art? Or the tall, feathered staff constantly kept shedding feathers that were quickly replaced? That had created a mess before the drones had shoved it into a spatial chest.

Looking down at her now-empty ring, Serra sighed and walked over to the table that held the thankfully now-smaller pile of spatial rings. What would the next one contain?

Finally, at around twenty-one hundred hours shiptime by her own internal chrono, Osar walked over and handed each of them a thin small wand about fifteen centimeters in length. Serra turned it over in her hand, noting that it seemed to be made up of two interlocking lengths of matte black metal.

“These are your stock wands,” With a flourish the big alien pulled the two lengths apart, exposing a holographic sheet that shimmered in the space in-between. “It was used by Legion quartermasters to keep track of their inventories: You should be able to see every piece of loot we catalogued and stored right there.”

Serra copied the hunter’s example, seeing the numerous names and quantities of the items they had gained listed in sheet solid light. With a little help from Angel she quickly figured out that the entries could be rearranged into categories as well as various other modes to make it easier to find whatever you were looking for.

“Will this get updated automatically?” Cid asked, even as he continued looking through the hardlight lists.

“Not yet, friend Cid,” The Urgan sounded apologetic, and he shot Eric a questioning look. “Please look through the lists tonight and pick out those items that you wish to take for your own personal use and make your own list. Tomorrow, we’ll go through our lists and pick everything out. If you have questions about what particular piece of gear or equipment to take we will also discuss those tomorrow.”

Everyone nodded their understanding as they continued to examine their lists.

“I have asked Luna to begin working on setting up a proper inventory system for our treasury,” The Captain eventually announced as he stowed his wand into the bracelet he got from that dragon. “After we’ve equipped ourselves tomorrow, we’ll be temporarily storing all of the loot within the Plunderer’s vaults. However, if anyone of us needs anything for more later that will improve their build, they can just ask and we’ll see that you get that item.”

Hearing that, Serra’s spirits lifted. She should have known she could trust the Captain to see straight to the solution of a problem! With a wide grin, Serra walked over to Osar and placed a hand on the man’s grey-skinned arm.

“Tell me big man, when do you think I should choose and place my second Core?”