43.

Congratulations, you are an Air Mage lvl. 34

Santiago V. Silva

Strength: 35 (60)

Durability: 35 (60)

Stamina: 33 (58)

Dexterity: 32 (57)

Vitality: 35 (60)

Perception: 32 (57)

Intelligence: 72 (97)

Mana: 85 (110)

Willpower: 72 (97)

Potential:55%

Santi stared at his screen and had to fight the urge to smile. His stats were ridiculous, the boost from his evolution and his title were so much higher than he had been. With the title he was stronger and more durable than any physical fighter in his class level and his mage stats were simply incomparable. Stat supremacy was a thing. Skills and training could help normalize a fight, cut the gap, but at a certain point the stats were simply impossible to overcome.

Achievement: First to Conquer an Acolyte Rift (Common)

Reward: Loot Box (Common)

Santi opened the achievement and watched as the silver chest materialized in front of him on his bed. The heavy weight of the chest caused his bed to squeak and Santi hurriedly opened it. He immediately started searching through it, pulling free multiple bags and watched as the chest disappeared.

The first thing was a bag of Acolyte tier food. The nutritionally dense bars were needed, but they didn’t set his heart on fire with greed. It was a disappointing start to what was one of the better boxes he had earned, but he had hope.

The next was a soft leather bag filled with the white wood coins. He counted it quickly and then opened the drawer next to his nightstand and threw it in with the rest of the money he had earned. The drawer was getting full, but it was nothing to the collection his parents had managed to collect from having the only restaurant in the settlement.

The final piece was a white silk shirt that felt like feathers under his fingers. Santi held it up in front of himself and had to admire the sheen of it in the flickering candlelight. He used [Identify] to see what he had just earned for himself.

Enchanted Silk Shirt of Repair

Santi felt that hidden smile burst across his face finally. He had been burning through clothes at an alarming rate. The amount of shirts he had destroyed was simply astounding. Having a self repairing shirt would be a godsend. Santi began to strip his own raggedy shirt off and caught a whiff of himself. He looked at the sparklingly clean shirt and his own grimy hands.

Even after the quick scrub he’d had after the fight, it wasn’t enough to truly be clean. There was dried blood in the corner of his nail beds, the creases in his hands still had dirt wedged in them. The light layer of dried sweat on his forehead and back needed to be properly scrubbed free.

Sighing he headed down the stairs in the dark and saw his family seated around the kitchen table. They were quietly eating from bowls, spooning a cold broth up to their lips while they talked amongst themselves. Dad was smiling as everyone complimented him on his broth while Mom looked at him lovingly. Bianca was curled into Cameron’s side while the big man ate out of a mixing bowl. Yesi was sitting on the kitchen counter, legs weaving back and forth while she ate.

“Want some, Santi?” Dad asked, rising from his seat and heading toward the big pot on the counter. He didn’t wait for Santi’s answer before making him a big bowl. The food wouldn’t give him anything in terms of nutrition, but he was always excited to eat his Dad’s cooking.

“What were you up to Mr. President?” Cameron asked with a smile. Everyone turned to look at him with a mix of concern and pride.

“Got my loot box for that fight. Got a nice shirt, but I’m dirty. Was going to go and scrub myself with steel wool.”

“You got a shirt for that fight? All I got was a macuahuitl.” Bianca complained. Everyone turned to look at her with exasperation.

“What? I want some better clothes. All mine look like I just got out of a horror movie.”

“I would kill for a good weapon. My hatchet broke again,” Cam complained.

“You got a big ass shield, babe,” Bianca reminded him.

“Yeah, but I want a weapon.”

“Shields can be a weapon,” Santi interjected.

“Yeah, just like bash them in the face,” Yesi chimed in.

“Not at the dinner table,” Mom cut in, a hint of heat in her words.

“Sorry, Mom,” everyone said.

“Santi, have you talked to the dwarves yet?” Yesi asked, shooting Mom a look to make sure that was allowed.

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

“No. I can go now. Hit the baths after that. I want to set out early with Daniel and Hana, go scout downtown.”

“No rest for the wicked,” Cam said.

“I’ll go with you.” Dad handed him his bowl of soup and the two of them left the room and walked out the house. Santi sipped the thin broth, cool and satisfying on the warm summer night. They walked in companionable silence for all of five steps before Dad started talking.

“So, you want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?”

“You declaring yourself a dictator.”

“I’m not a dictator.”

“Santiago, don’t lie to me and don’t lie to yourself.”

“I declared myself dictator.”

“Yeah. You did.”

“It’s what needs to be done. I know that its what needs to be done.”

“And?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been fighting the urge to take charge since the beginning. It’s not something that I wanted. It’s not who I wanted to be. It’s who I have to be.”

“Part of being a man. An adult really. Stepping up. Being the person who is needed is much harder than being the person you want to be. You think I wanted to spend my time pouring concrete?”

“What did you want to do? When you were my age?”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

“Drink mostly. Party. Dance. Cook. Chase girls. Don’t tell your Mom that part,” Dad said with a wide smile.

“Promise, just between us.” The streets were dark but the moonlight was enough to keep them walking toward the house they had put the dwarves.

“That’s my boy. I met your Mom and we did that. Partied, danced, and drank our nights away. Then we had Bianca on the way and I had to step up. I had to provide. Being a father is hard mi hijo. I was so nervous. So fucking tired. Twelve hour days busting my ass and a crying baby at night. Your Mom had it worse. She wanted to be a lawyer. The pregnancy derailed everything. She stepped up big. She put aside everything she ever wanted to be and raised you all. Kept us all sane and fed.” Dad got silent as they got closer to the house.

“You should have seen her when she was younger. Full of fire and passion. It's still there, but it's just contained. I was always going to want to settle down and have kids, but I don’t think she did. She wanted to be someone, to do something beyond the household.” Dad looked over the house, lost in his memories.

“I miss those days. Don’t get me wrong. You kids were worth it. So, so, so worth it. Raising my children made me a better man. Taught me so much about myself. But I do miss those days.”

“The drinking and dancing and partying?”

“Not having responsibilities. Not having my knees and back hurt. Having all my hair,” Dad said with a smile, but there was a touch of sadness there.

“You can get your youth back with enough stats. Just have to level, old man.”

“Maybe, maybe. Let’s go see these dwarves of yours.”

They walked up the steps of the front house and knocked on the door. Santi took another deep swill of the broth and waited as the door opened up for them. Grimvr looked up at them and smiled broadly.

“Santiago, my friend, please be welcome to our domicile,” he swept his hand back to showcase the house as he invited them in.

“I must apologize for the late hour Grimvr, but I will be gone all day tomorrow and want to talk to Thorin,” Santi explained as he stepped into the house.

“He is still awake. I must thank you for the gift of the food bars. He is much weakened from his captivity and without proper nutrition, I fear he would not be long for this world.” Grove led them through the house and Santi took in how the house had been arranged.

Gone were all the couches and furniture that had previously filled the rooms. The cushions had been stacked on the floor and dwarves sat around eating slowly. They watched him warily, caution and fear evident in the movements. Grimvr led him past them and up the stairs toward the bedrooms.

Any and all personal effects had been taken down, pictures, knicknacks, trophies. The walls were bare white with a thin layer of grime on them from the constant fires burning. Santi could smell the musty tang of the dwarves already filling the house, overwhelming the scent of burned wood and human body odor.

Thorin was in the master bedroom, propped up with a pile of pillows on a mattress that lay flat on the ground. He had cleaned himself up and was chewing a nutrition bar slowly, savoring every crumb. The black rings beneath his eyes and his motley beard were glaring testaments to his poor health.

“I’m Santiago.”

“You have my thanks. I saw you fighting them. Your people freed me, led me to escape.”

“It was the right thing to do.”

“Regardless, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I know you are tired and ready to sleep, but I do have a few things I need to talk to you about.”

“I am ready.”

“I would like to enter a binding agreement with you and your clan to provide services to my settlement.”

“You know of this? How?”

“It matters not. Would you be interested in the details?”

“Yes.”

“You and your clan will provide basic martial training. You will train crafters in basic metal work and any other skills that you can reasonably teach revolving around crafting.”

“What do we get?”

“Food, housing, protection. Tax will only be ten percent on your goods.”

“So low?”

“You will have the best crafted goods on planet for a long time. You will be able to set your own price. I will make plenty of money off your goods.”

“Pragmatic. Will you aid in our evolutions?”

“No. You will be able to negotiate freely with those who provide the service.”

“How many years?”

“Indefinite.”

“Never. Fifty years.”

“A hundred and fifty years.”

“Seventy.”

“Ninety.”

“I can do ninety.”

Register 90 year agreement between Thorin Softsteel and Santiago Silva?

“Yes.”

“Aye.” Both of their voices overlapped as the System dinged in acknowledgement of their deal.

“When you have recovered, I will begin to enforce our agreement.”

“I will send Grimvr to begin the martial training in two days time. Bring your warriors here.”

“Fair.” Santi offered his hand and Thorin shook it, his grip still strong even now.

He turned to leave, his Dad trailing after him like a silent specter. Grimvr was trying to hide his grin, but failing spectacularly. Grimvr let them out, the door shutting behind them and the burst of thick dwarven happened instantly.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Dad asked.

“It’s just something that needed to be done.”

“You’re lying to me.”

“Yup. Can’t tell you though.”

“The world is strange. My son is lying to me and I’m ok with it.”

“I think there’s more strange things going on, Dad.”

“True. Cameron is dating Bianca. That is something I would never have expected.”

“Weird as hell,” Santi said with a laugh. The two of them walked home quietly, Santi enjoying his time with his Dad, brief as it was.