Fail… what? Do I have an ongoing quest that I don’t know about? Wait–Pearl. That’s it.

“Can you see what I saw, or do you need me to explain it to you?”

Pearl doesn’t say anything for a long time. Long enough for me to back away to a safe distance, try to scrape the sweltering coagulated sweat off my body, give up ten minutes later, and start formulating some kind of plan to disable the beacon without destroying it.

Her voice finally interrupts me as I’m contemplating using one of my limited supply of ghost quarters to block off the beacon’s radiant heat. And there’s… something off about it.

“Sorry about not answering for a while there. Yes, I can see the same things you can. Not in a… through your eyes kind of thing, but in a ‘I can see the big system text when it pops up’ kind of thing.”

I raise an eyebrow at the slight change in her voice. It’s almost like she’s forcing eagerness through when something else should be there.

“Pearl, how can you be ten minutes worth of distracted when you don’t have anything to get distracted by?”

She shrugs. “I have my ways. Most of which include retreating into my shell for ______ ______ _____________ ____ _______________.”

I wince at the harsh whine that overtakes her last few words. “The system censored you halfway through that.”

“That’s annoying. How can I explain myself when the system won’t let me?” She huffs, then pauses to think. “...I’m going to try something. Tell me right away if I get censored again.”

“Go ahead.”

“When I go into my shell, I have… stuff in there. Like a single room where I keep what little stuff I have left.” She speaks slowly and carefully, looking at me after every pause. “There’s a lot more in there than I thought, but because of my unique situation, I can’t remember what pretty much any of it does, means, or if it’s even mine in the first place. Us shellraisers _______–”

“Censored.” I grunt as a much stronger pain wracks my mind. “Way stronger stuff than before.”

Pearl hisses apologetically. “Sorry. Um… I can’t really say much more if it won’t let you hear that. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Just tell me if you’re retreating next time.” I look down at the ground as I play with a ghost quarter. “Don’t go into any specifics, but do you know how to deal with that beacon?”

“...Sort of?”

I nod. “I’m going to assume that means you know how to deal with a normal one, not one that’s reflecting a corpse.”

“That’s a good assumption.”

“I know it is.” I chuckle, forcing a shield into the ghost quarter. It takes a little more effort than it did before it evolved. “Ah, crap. Really should’ve asked Gil about what a ‘coinbound’ spell does.”

“Or you could try to put a skill point into your Mind stat. Maybe it will shed more light on how your skill works.” Pearl suggests. “You are owed a skill point, remember?”

“It’s been ten minutes, not ten days.” I say back, but she’s got a point. “Alright. Go take a little time for yourself while I try to find this elusive skill point I’m owed.”

“I already did. So I’ll take watch in case something else decides to attack us.”

“Much appreciated.”

I call my card and pull it open. All I’ve got to go on is Gil’s statement that I’m owed one skill point per threshold cleared, so the most logical place to start is my stats tab. After a quick glance over at the quest tab to make sure it hasn’t randomly become accessible, which it unsurprisingly hasn’t, I shake my head with a little sigh and go right back to the task at hand.

Each of my stats still costs more than I can afford to upgrade, so that’s not happening. I cross my arms and squint at the absurdly high cost to upgrade Fate, which turns into a frown as I remember something about Pearl. Her item version, to be specific.

I tab over to my inventory to confirm it. The point in Fate she’s giving me says it doesn’t count towards the cost of upgrading a stat. So that huge jump is from a whole one point increase over base. It almost makes me want to save my theoretical clearance skill point for later, since raising my Mind from two to three would end up saving me way more Worth in the long run.

So… maybe I put it into Fate, even though I’ve already got three of it. That’s the most efficient use of the point, unless it’s got some restrictions like… it can only be used on my lowest stat. That’d be a huge killjoy, and it would force me to evenly distribute my skill points as I get them.

“That’s one surefire way to kill any kind of specialization.” I say to myself. “Doesn’t mean it might not happen, but it’d be a major killjoy. And… it’d pretty much destroy the point of Fate as a stat.”

If everyone had a Fate stat around their level, there’d be no point in having the stat at all. It’s little comfort in the face of a hyper expensive stat system, but it gives me hope that I can actually have a dump stat.

…The fact that I want that is probably a little concerning. I’ll put that out of my mind for now and try to forget that I ever thought that… thought, and focus on the important shit. Finding how to get that stat point. I press and hold on my Mind stat, quickly read through its description again to see if there’s any differences, and find none.

I try pressing on one of the arrows, but it just tells me I don’t have enough liquid Worth. Then I try flicking the number upwards, calling out a few phrases that might trigger some system thing, and I even check my information tab for anything useful. And sooner rather than later, I’m all out of ideas with nothing to show for my admittedly meager efforts.

“Okay, don’t give up yet. I have to pay to use the seal set and the all-seeing ice I bought, so maybe I have to ‘activate’ each of my stats before I can get free points from leveling up. Or maybe it’s an aspect of my system I don’t have access to yet for some reason. The damn thing didn’t even have a quest tab until twenty minutes ago, for god’s sake.”

Even with all my bitching, none of those possibilities feel right. There has to be something I’m missing. If it’s super obvious, I’m going to feel like such a dumbass when it comes to light. And if it’s some bullshit hidden thing, like pressing on one corner of my screen while I rapidly swap between tabs in some predetermined order, I’m going to be pissed.

Just as I’m about to jump back in, my screen flashes to a notification.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Two-hour grace period expiring in one minute.

If you have not yet used your clearance ticket, use it now or lose it permanently.

You will not receive this warning next time.

…No. It can’t be. Did I just have to wait? I bite my lip and stare over at where Gil’s store had been, trying not to think the thoughts that I’m about to think. But I can’t help myself from thinking them.

“The system didn’t give me the point for a reason. One that I’d probably know better if I got sent to a normal store. Say, maybe I could exchange my clearance ticket for a stat coin that could only be used on a stat of one. Like that inventory coin that could only be used if I had less than ten slots. So… the skill points the system gives probably have no restrictions, but the ones I can buy probably do.”

The seconds tick away. I lean back on my heels as I wait to be proven wrong.

Time expired.

All remaining tickets removed and all stores closed.

Adding function: Threshold Stat Point(s) to Class Card.

I watch as my screen contorts for a second, tabs away from my stats, then tabs right back a second later. And what do you know–all the costs for purchasing a stat point are all a glimmering golden zero. All it’s missing is an actual system message screaming at me to use any points with restrictions before I use the free, no-strings-attached one.

You have (1) free stat purchase.

It will not increase the cost to purchase your next stat upgrade.

I throw my arms into the air in resignation. “Just spit in the face of all my theories, why don’t you. So what’s the damn point of having it cost more to buy stats if everything but buying them doesn’t increase their cost?”

An idea’s already starting to dawn on me, but now I can see the path forward. So all those theories get to sit on the backburner for the foreseeable future. I tap the ‘upgrade’ arrow on my Mind stat, watch the number tick over, and wait for some kind of change.

My eyes water a little. I blink the tears away, and when I do, the world’s a little… sharper. Every little sound is slightly more in focus, and I can make out where they’re coming from just that little bit better. I breathe deeply, then wrinkle my nose at the smell of… myself. It’s not that much worse than a second ago, but I swear I’m a little more rank than before.

Or it could all be one massive placebo. The system did make sure I read that huge list of things the Mind stat didn’t improve, after all. But there was one thing that it improved for sure. I tab over to my spells with an excited grin to see what secrets this doubling of my Mind has unveiled.

Coinbound Shield

Evolution Requirements: ???

Progress: ???/???

Create a barrier of magical energy using a Worth coin as a base. It shatters when it takes enough damage, ending the spell. Can only be used on coins of value 1-5.

…That’s it? THIS is my upgraded spell? There’s less here to work with than the un-upgraded version had! I… no. I’ve got to be misremembering. I force myself to exhale as calmly as I can in the face of paying for a worse version of a spell, then tab over to my information tab to pull up the fully upgraded shield’s description.

*Shield*

Create a flat barrier of magical energy that suspends itself in place. It shatters when it takes enough damage, ending the spell. If used by a spellcasting _________ ________ ___ ____________. If cast using Worth, can only be used with coins of value 1-5.

I look closely between the two, swapping between tabs to make sure I’m not imagining anything. But as I read on, something comes to me. The coinbound version doesn’t mention casting it without using a coin–which, I mean, COINbound. Of course. But it’s also missing a few other key words, like ‘flat’ before barrier. And, more crucially, ‘suspends itself in place’. Hell, with all the omissions, it looks a lot like I’ve got much more control over the barrier’s function.

“Less of a description means less restrictions.” I muse as I flip a coin through my knuckles, then let it fall flat on my palm. “It felt stiff when I tried to use it without thinking, but when I had a clear image in my head, the spell went off without a hitch. I wonder how far I can push this.”

My coin shimmers lightly as I start to push a shield into it. This time, I envision a half-dome that emanates from the coin itself instead of staying in place. It goes into the coin without a hitch, and I flick it a few feet away to activate it.

It clinks uselessly to the ground without activating. I tilt my head to the side and kneel down to collect it, fully expecting something to have gone wrong with the spell. But no–it’s still in there. Just not activated for some reason.

I spin it around a few times, then press it against my thumbnail again. The shields that saved me from the mass grave had popped out with a mental command to protect myself, so maybe i have to give this one a command, too.

As it soars through the air, reaching the apex of its arc, I point my finger at it like a gun.

“Shield.”

The coin explodes into a spell the moment the thought leaves my mind. A three-foot wide dome expands from behind the coin as it travels, and when it finishes forming, the coin pulls the shield along with it. It slams to the ground with far more weight than before, and only then does the coin shatter into shards of light. Leaving a perfectly intact shield that isn’t stuck motionless in the air.

I nod at the spell in satisfaction. These little differences greatly improve what I can do with my spells–and having two different kinds of triggers for the shield improves it even further. I can keep a coin on my person for close-range shields triggered by my mind, and stuff a timed activation shield into others to force things to move exactly how I want them. Or… protect other things, I guess.

“Wonder how much shield I can pack into one coin at a time.” I muse, summoning another ghost quarter and filling it with a simple shield–one that’s as big as possible, and that will stay stuck in one place.

A flick of my thumb sends it tumbling less than a foot. The coin explodes into a circular shield that looks like it’s got a six foot diameter. Tiny hairline cracks start to form in the magic from the edge in, and the actual shield looks a little more… transparent than the dome.

“So bigger shields are less concentrated with magic. I guess that makes sense.” I note and pull out another coin, filling this one with the exact same shield parameters as the last one, except for making it a rectangle.

It pops into being right next to my first one, just as transparent and crackly as its sibling.

“Shape doesn’t have an effect on shield quality. Good to know. What to test next…”

----------------------------------------

Things I found out while wasting half of the ghost quarters I have left:

1. The total surface area of the shield is all that matters in durability and duration.

2. Projecting a shield away from a coin takes a little more magic than letting it emerge directly from the coin, slightly decreasing the shield’s durability and duration.

3. When a shield bursts free from a coin, it physically bursts free. Not sure how useful this is, but I could probably launch something if I put it on a coin and let a shield free.

4. All my shields are stronger and longer lasting than before I upgraded the spell.

5. I can only make fairly simple things; no making weapons or a suit of armor. Yet.

6. There’s probably way more I can do with this, so I shouldn’t think I’ve got this spell mastered.

I pull my finger from my Class Card and nod at what I’ve written in Coinbound Shield’s description. This new notes feature is pretty handy.

“Pearl, are you done yet?” I ask, wait a few seconds, and receive no reply. “Well, someone’s busy. And she’s going to miss the first attempt because of it.”

I wave my screen away and pull out two ghost quarters. In the first I imbue a shield that’s just big enough to cover my head in a protective sphere, which I press to the bottom of my chin and activate. It pops into being as I walk towards the hellhole; a perfectly clear shield protecting my important bits from the beacon’s radiation. The seal around my neck isn’t perfect, but that’s the price I pay for being able to breathe.

Blinking away the sweat, I palm the other coin and grit my teeth as the heat mounts. I push a completely spherical shield into this one, and set the trigger to be when the coin impacts something that isn’t me.

The tunnel yawns as I approach. It’s disgusting radiation spews free in a torrent, slowly but surely invading my impromptu helmet with every breath I take. I glance close to the tunnel, swallow hard, and lean over the edge with my coin at the ready.

I hold my breath and force myself to stare into the painful depths. Searing light and radiation bombard my eyes, barely diminished by my shield helmet. I bite my cheek to keep from ripping my eyes away, line up my coin with the beacon far below, and with a silent prayer that my shield isn’t going to be too small, I let it go.