World: MSS - Loading...
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“First thing we’re going to do is change up the formation.”
“What was wrong with the previous formation?” Delas muttered crossly.
I sighed. I didn’t want to dignify it with an answer.
“Before, we had Arrosh standing in front. Followed by you and me, then followed by Zenom. Arione and Borealis were at the back.”
“And I’m asking what’s wrong with that formation?”
I gritted my teeth. How the hell was I supposed to explain that in MSS, something like a formation was directly related to how a fight might play out? Having a good formation was the first step in any fight and could mean the different between party wipeout and survival.
“Borealis will be in the front. Arrosh will be right behind him. Arione and Delas will be next, followed by Zenom. And I’ll bring up the rear.”
“You’d place me with an orc?” Borealis began, but I cut him off.
I didn’t have time for his racist bullshit here. Not in this new environment.
Because my instincts were screaming that the effects of the special field weren't the only dangerous thing here. It continued to warn me that we were in danger. That this was serious and was way beyond what Zenom had anticipated when bringing us to this island.
“Another rule, obviously the effect of the Special Field gives us short tempers.” I gestured at the lava around us. “If you act out in any way that’s indicative of the special field affecting your minds, let us know. Or if you see anyone else succumbing to the effects, inform the others.”
“You have a way to lessen the effects of a Special Field?” Zenom muttered. He looked much calmer now that he had put a [Mental] buff on himself.
I kind of wished we had bought a Priest instead. A Priest would have been able to buff everyone. Alas, a Holy Knight was specialized for individual combat.
“It’s simple. Two people will hold that person down, and we’ll kick them in the balls.” I said, looking straight at Borealis.
Borealis winced and turned away.
“...That’s barbaric.” Zenom hissed, growing angry. “Assaulting a Scion, not to mention jeopardizing the future of a Great House; that is unacceptable. I cannot permit you to damage Borealis’ seeds in such a way.”
“You have a better idea?”
“Think of another one. You have claimed ownership over the party. Borealis’ seeds are off limits.”
“Zenom, you’re the type to find reasons why it cannot be done first huh?” I shot back.
“Borealis’ seeds are the future of-”
“What’s up with your love of Borealis’ seeds…” Delas quipped.
“Because they are the treasure of-”
“Enough about my seeds! I will take the punishment if need be!” Borealis snapped. “By the Light, please stop talking about my seeds like it’s some kind of… of thing!”
“It is a treasure. All Scions have a responsibility to be fruitful, to bear many heirs. For they are the strength of the empire. You are a Scion and therefore, your seeds-” Zenom was interrupted for the third time when Borealis growled and actually lunged at him.
Shocked, Zenom leaped but but he didn’t need to: Arrosh and Delas caught Borealis by the arms.
“Zenom! You fucker! I told you to-”
I stepped up to the livid Scion, swinging my sword and catching him in the precious Turinan Treasures. Of course, my sword was sheathed.
He quieted down.
While Borealis breathed heavily in and out, curled up in a fetal position on the ground with his eyes still glaring at me, I looked to the others.
“Effective, no?”
Arione stared, eyes wide with shock. “This cannot be happening. No.”
Something dark from inside me emerged, the thing that likes to see others in pain. And in fear.
"Just give me a reason." I meant to go for humorous but it came out hostile.
Arione looked away.
It was such a small thing. Such a dismissible interaction that no one should remember. But I knew, and the dark thing inside me knew, that it would matter.
Zenom frowned at Arione and then at me. “I said-”
“Careful there, Sir Zenom.” I said quietly. “You wouldn’t want anyone to think you’re getting angry.”
Delas and Arrosh took position next to Zenom, ready to restrain him.
Zenom paled visibly then coughed into his hand. The Holy Knight did not deign to answer.
“And you? How come you’re so fine?” Delas asked.
“Don’t focus on the emotion, wall it off.” I said.
“You call that advice?” Delas complained. “How the hell am I supposed to do something like that?”
I shrugged.
I didn’t want to tell him how much practice I had walling off pain, trying to find some dark corner of my mind where I could whimper in peace when Coum was torturing me. My character had never been tortured before, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it unlocked some sort of achievement. Or maybe it was just mental growth, not something that could be reflected with stats. A technique of sorts.
...How much of it was thanks to Delas?
'Careful... you don't have concrete evidence yet.' I told myself.
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Regardless, the banter died down and was replaced by gnawing worry. The time for comedy was over and the red-stained gloom flooded the group again, ready to be sparked into genuine rage. I knew that the Special Field was affecting their minds and this wouldn’t be the last time someone lashed out. It would fall on me to keep a close eye on them.
Ushering the misfit adventurers and Holy Knight into the formation, we continued the expedition.
The lava gave off a constant glow as we went deeper and deeper into the island. The trees became larger and somehow menacing, the branches curving in ways to cast long sinister shadows. The ground popped and gurgled, forcing us to watch where we walked, lest we stray into a bog that could be faster than quicksand, except it’d be a pool made of liquid fire.
Arrosh’s steps were sure and quick. He walked in this kind of shuffling gait that splayed out his legs but seemed to find the right footing without tripping over anything. Which was just as well, the ground was beginning to be covered in thorny branches. With the lack of sunlight which was blocked by large ash clouds, visibility was becoming an issue.
Twice we had to stop.
Once because Delas went mad, smacking at his own legs with his daggers. His eyes were bloodshot and the rogue screamed as he started cutting up the thorny brambles. Screaming in fury, even after the brambles around him were gone, he began to slice into his own skin. Borealis and Zenom quickly restrained him while I did the honors.
Arione was next. His was much subtler. He didn’t yell or scream, as much as put a hand towards the sky and sent out a blast of blue fire, so hot that it instantly evaporated the sweat on my skin and singed my eyelashes. He turned towards us, eyes lighting up with red mana. In that moment of hesitation, I moved forward, ignoring his flames and subdued the Mage.
“That was weird.” I whispered while Arione wheezed on the ground.
“What about it?” Delas looked at the sky and at the burnt wreckage around us. Then he looked to me, eyes calculating.
“He’s a mage.” I pointed at Arione. “This Special Field, it’s designed to attack our minds. Yet, Arione was the first to crumble. Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”
“He wasn’t.” Borealis joined in. “We all succumbed to it, remember?”
“That’s what I’m saying.” I explained. “It’s weird that he got affected at the same rate as everyone.”
“What’s weird is that you and the blind orc are not falling to it.” Delas said.
I wanted to point out how much harder it was to contain my anger whenever they talked back to me. But that wouldn’t help the morale. I swallowed it for the umpteenth time, walling off the anger.
The fact that Arione, a Mage who probably had the highest [Mental] stat, said something. Was there a connection between Delas and Arione that I was unaware of?
We continued walking, each of us keeping an eye on the other.
This was bad. It was breeding discontent and mistrust. I could see this place becoming a death trap; this island didn’t need monsters. It could just be a huge pot designed to have the adventurers killing themselves. Parties imploding. It was like this for strangers, how bad could it be for a party that had internal turmoil and drama?
‘Not the party I made. It didn’t seem like they had points of contention, just yet.’ I consoled myself.
“Keep your eyes open.” I said. “If there’s anything that looks out of place or strange, let the rest of us know right away.”
“Does lava count?” Delas offered.
We walked for another hour before my advice became fruitful. Zenom was the first to find it.
“Lock Slaveborn, perhaps were you talking about something like this?” Zenom pointed to a tree in the distance.
It took me a moment to figure out what he was saying. Hanging on the gnarled tree was a single fruit.
It was shaped like a teardrop and bouncy to the touch, like a water balloon. It was contained in a thin clear shell, reflecting the luscious blue liquid within. I touched it and realized that the fruit was ice-cold.
“What is that?” Borealis said in awe.
“It’s a [Fruit of Clear Mind].” I said right away.
“Truly?” Zenom said, surprised.
I nodded. “I recognize it. I’ve seen it before.”
“What’s so special about it?” Arione said crossly.
Man, this guy must’ve really played on the easy mode or played some mods without Special Fields.
The [Fruit of Clear Mind] had a cleansing effect. It reset all debuffs and buffs, but that wasn’t it. Once you ate the fruit, your characters Hunger Level, Tiredness Level and even the need for sleep would reset. MSS isn’t a game without answers or a way out, it was just extremely difficult to find the answer.
“Eating it will lessen the burden in your heart.” Zenom explained. “It might even quell the anger that we all feel, as well as refresh your body, mind and soul. Sleep, hunter, it will stave off all those things. I heard that it can even be helpful in recovering from wounds and mana exhaustion.”
To add onto what Zenom said, it provided a 10% boost to health and mana regeneration. Nothing to scoff at in an expedition such as this one.
“We ain’t fought a single monster yet. Might as well save it for later.” Delas reached out for the fruit.
I grabbed his wrist. “Stop.”
He snarled at me, stopping abruptly as Zenom and Borealis stepped close to him. Delas cleared his throat. “Why?”
“Once you pick the fruit, it cannot be saved into an inventory. Though an Alchemist might be able to preserve it.” Zenom explained in my stead again. “It will deteriorate rapidly.”
“Damn, you been taking lessons from Slaveborn?” Delas quipped, taking his hand away from the fruit at once.
“So the question remains, who will eat it?” Borealis said, eyeing me.
Naturally, the decision fell to me. I was the leader of this expedition. It wasn’t a hard decision either, I had my mind made up as soon as I saw the fruit.
“Arione, eat the fruit.”
“Huh? Me?”
“Hurry up.” I said, ignoring Borealis’ and Delas’ wistful looks.
I gave it to Arione mainly because of his standing as a Mage, not to mention the highest ranking adventurer out of all of us. If he went on a rampage like before, I might be the only one who remained standing –Maybe Borealis too. Delas and Arrosh, two of the more fragile members of this party, wouldn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell. Quite literally.
Arione picked the fruit and chomped down on it.
“Did it work?” Zenom asked.
Arione nodded. “It did. Wow, I didn’t realize I was so… angry. I hope I don’t have a wrinkle anywhere.”
“Well? What’s it taste like? Out with it!” Delas snapped.
“It’s… like…” Arione peered at me, then cleared his throat. “Tastes like the type of fizzing water that they have in the Desert, but sweet and citrusy. The type that leaves a stinging sensation over your tongue, but clears out your throat. It was also very cold. Very pleasant.”
Arione had just described soda.
Delas groaned. “Tell me the next one’s mine.”
“The next one’s yours.” I said immediately. “Then Borealis, then Arrosh then me. We will rotate in this order whenever we find a fruit. Zenom, you’ll have to sustain yourself on the buffs for now.” Then turning to Arrosh, I said, “Arrosh, I know we’ve been avoiding monsters. How close is the nearest monster here?”
Arrosh held up ten fingers instead of answering.
Right, he would try not to talk to me as much as possible. All for the sake of the cover. Arione already knew about our relationship, no need to clue in the others as well.
“Ten minutes?”
He nodded.
I thought for a second.
A fruit ten minutes away from the den of a monster. Yet, along the way here, we hadn’t seen a single fruit.
“Arrosh… is this the nearest we’ve been to a monster since we started?”
Arrosh nodded in affirmative.
I spat a curse.
“What’s wrong?” Zenom asked.
“These fruits only grow around monster dens.” I gestured at the gnarled tree. “Of course, it can’t be that easy.”
Borealis grimaced. “So to keep our sanity, we are forced to risk monster encounters. If not, we risk infighting. A tough decision.”
No one spoke for a bit.
“Well? What will you do?” Zenom asked.
“Our goal…” I said after thinking. “Is to see if this island is suitable for a temporary base, for us to make repairs. Do these trees look usable to you, Zenom?”
Promptly, Zenom walked over to one of the trees. Drawing his bastard sword, he cut the tree in half.
No Aura. Just sheer strength.
Holy Knight and Priests work on a completely different magic system than us regular adventurers. They don’t need Cores; they fulfill Quests. Quests that pertain to the church and to their god. By completing these quests, which can sometimes be as boring as completing a 24 hour fast or praying for a hundred days, they unlock abilities and skills. In a way, they work in a completely different skill system than us. It’s not unique to humans either, all religion-based characters, regardless of race, work on this system.
Zenom must’ve completed a lot of quests to have a [Physical] stat that high.
We gathered to look at the tree that Zenom cut down. Although the outside was ashen black, the inside looked just like any other tree, naked and bare. We took turns knocking on it and kicking it, checking how hard it was.
“It will suffice.” Zenom said, sheathing his sword.
“So the supply isn’t an issue.” I gestured around us. “But the Special Field is. We can’t bring a fleet full of adventurers, priests and sailors onto this island and expect nothing to happen.”
“If a Blader or a Mage loses their temper at the wrong moment…” Borealis said, his face whitening.
“There are two ways to solve this. One is simple: we have a small team go and cut trees and bring it back out to sea.” I held up a finger, then another. “The second…”
Delas paled. “Oh, hell no.”
“We find the strongest monster in this place and hope that its den has enough fruit to last a large enough group of people, just long enough for them to outlast the effects of this Special Field to do the repairs.”
No one looked happy.
“Arrosh,” Zenom said, his eyes fixed somewhere far away. “Where is the strongest monster on this island?”
Wordlessly, Arrosh pointed towards the center of the island.
A large mountain –no, a volcano– loomed over the trees, belching angry smoke into the sky. Lava poured freely and I knew that magma lurked just beneath the thin crust, ready to burst at the slightest interruption. It was so tall that the layer of smoke covered the peak, just out of view. There was no wind and no sunlight, everything around it was a twisted version of a mountain.
Green trees were nothing but blackened stumps covered in ash, everything except the body reduced to brittle bark. I thought I saw shadowy figures lumber around but they were gone in the next moment, no doubt monsters that had made their homes near the mountain. Instead of giving us a sense of conquest, I knew that it would only fill us with more dread the closer we got to it.
“Oh, hell fucking no.” Delas swore. “Call it, Zenom. This is a bust.”
“It’s not up to me.” Zenom turned to me. “It’s up to Lock Slaveborn.”
Zenom was a man of his word. Since he’d given me control of this expedition, he’d obey my choice.
“First, I’d like to hear what everyone else would like to say.” I began slowly. “You’re all leaders of your own party, if not this entire expedition. I could only guess at how much gold your parties invested into preparing for this quest by the church: new Cores, equipment and training. Choose your words carefully, because if we turn back here, we’re turning back towards Jayu.”
The words I said had their intended effect. No one spoke right away, each of them struggling with their own thoughts. It as because everything I said had been true and been in the back of their minds, I had just forced them to come to terms with it. They just wanted to get off this strange new dangerous island, at the same time, they didn’t want to admit that it would mean calling off the expedition.
I already knew what they would say.
Because they were all after the same thing.
And Zenom knew too. He knew that these guys were all backstabbing two-faced traitors, wanting to swipe the key from underneath his nose. If not, adventurers were synonymous with greed and risk.
This Holy Knight was entirely too familiar with how to handle adventurers for my liking.
Dangerous.
Zenom Saintred was dangerous.
Just as I finished my line of thought, Borealis spoke first.
“My party is composed of Offsprings of the Great Houses. Since time immemorial, we have stood at the forefront of danger, protecting the empire and expanding its borders. This quest is no different, I will not turn aside from the duty of my ancestors.” Borealis looked at me. “I say we press on.”
“Lives over coins.” Delas cut in. “Head back. Find a different sucker to kiss your ass on this doomed quest.”
Would a Player say let’s head back?
I looked to Arione and Arrosh.
“....I say we press on.” Arione said and suddenly smirked. “If anything, I can just burn everything to ash, yeah?”
“Idiot, look around you. All the monsters in this island probably have some kind of fire resistance.” Delas muttered angrily.
Arione shrugged with that smirk still on his face.
Zenom turned to me. “And you Slaveborn? What say you?”
“...I-”
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