It was a lovely morning in Linosa, and Edrick had a fantastic view of the clear blue sky and town square through his office window. The view from his office on the top floor of the town hall kept him motivated whenever he found himself working through the boring administrative reality which was mayordom.
When he was younger and dumber, he’d thought that having his own town might finally make him powerful enough to survive deeper and deeper delves, like some sort of money farm. But while he hadn’t been wrong about his strength, he also hadn’t anticipated becoming so bogged down with responsibilities that he almost looked forward to the seasonal trips into the depths.
The Autumn summons would occur in five days, at the end of this very week. The entire market bustling in the square below him was timed around it: over the first five market days, delvers would gather around the obelisk and buy up supplies and tools from the townspeople. Then came delve time – three days where the non-reborn would be alone in the overworld while almost all reborn were summoned into the depths. After that, the final five days of the market would vary. Delvers would return with a slew of the unusual materials, trinkets, and tools which could only be found in the depths. Linosa’s region of the depths was known especially for its iron supply. Of course, the final five days of the market could just as easily end up a period of mourning.
Linosa’s obelisk was tier two, which meant that it pierced the first twenty floors of the depths, giving easy access to farmable materials and creatures on those floors. Of course, it also meant the obelisk was exposed to attacks from twenty entire floors’ worth of beasts and monsters, which were deadlier the deeper their origin. But Edrick knew that a big part of the reason that the lady Areana, and subsequently the king, had allowed him the upgrade to tier two was the proven strength of the delvers of the Linosa obelisk. Should the forces of the depths manage to seize an obelisk when it unlocked during the solstice, the consequences would be dire not just for the connected town, but for those around it.
Edrick almost stopped writing at the thought, remembering the ghastly, tier-four inverted obelisk which had pierced the overworld sky twenty years ago, surrounded by demonic monsters and dark, emerging structures. The Dremosita inversion had been the worst in a decade, claiming thousands of lives before it had been sealed; mortal and reborn alike. He peered again at the innocuous, squat pillar floating gently in his town square, knowing he was looking at the mere tip of a long needle.
It was not by accident that both he and Eleanor were ranked at least ten levels above its maximum depth, although most of her guilders sat at level twenty or slightly above, having trained in Linosa or similar towns. The level limitations of an obelisk were another way in which mayordom was both a blessing and a curse – Edrick was relatively safe during delves, but knew that while he remained responsible for his town, he would never have the luxury of attempting to descend further to increase his own level. Not unless his obelisk itself levelled past tier four, and that would be even more expensive and dangerous.
The mayor, comfortably in his fifties although barely showing it, turned his attention back to writing his letter. A boring life was a safe life, and there was plenty to keep him busy on the overworld. The delve at the end of the week should provide enough excitement for the season anyway.
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Alex knew he’d screwed up the trial of strength. Well, he was pretty sure his result was fine – good, even! But after spending almost a whole day in the calm atrium, he’d been far too shocked and surprised when that roof had dropped on him, and it had cost him his wits. All up, he was fairly sure the trial had lasted less than two minutes, and he hadn’t had to think so quickly in ages… not since his last exam. I suppose there are certain similarities.
Had he remained calm; he’d have remembered to use his ring immediately. God, that would have been SO much easier. Or to prop the roof up with the box, although that seemed to have evoked a strange reaction from the trial administrator. It was useful to know how the system reacted to so-called ‘aberrant solutions,’ and even more so once he examined his mental interface.
Alexander James Patel Overview Affiliations Linosa Town Level 0 Class None Status HP - MP - SP - Attributes STR 11 CON - DEX - END - INT 1 WIS - LCK 0
It appeared as if the ‘bonus point’ hadn’t gone to strength, while one point had for every stage which he’d successfully passed. It seemed the system was rewarding him for his cleverness with the box, but he couldn’t help but wonder whether the bonus point would have been more appropriate in LCK. His mind had totally blanked during the trial.
He’d tried testing his strength to see if it had changed, but he had an intuition that the number in his mind was somehow probationary. The same strange understanding of the glyphs suggested that these numbers represented some sort of power on the conclusion of the rebirth challenge, so it seemed wise to try and optimise it. This lined up with his understanding of RPG stat systems, which were probably why he'd rationalised his whole interface like this in the first place.
He’d already fitted his hard-won strength key into the golden box, where it fit snugly then locked in position after being turned with a click. The strength gateway had winked out of existence as soon as he'd arrived back in the atrium, leaving an empty arch embedded in the blank marble wall.
Good thing I found that secret quest before I started, or I might have missed one of the keys without realising it.
Alex sighed and contemplated which portal to walk through next.
Constitution – is that like hit points? That could be a pretty nasty trial.
Dexterity – probably some sort of obstacle course. Lethal obstacles, if that last trial was any indicator.
Endurance – stamina? I really should have used that gym membership.
Intelligence – my favourite stat. Could be embarrassing if I flop.
He had failed an exam once; he wasn’t some kind of prodigy. Granted, the exam had been on quantum physics, so at least he’d been in the same room as a few of them.
Wisdom – knowing not to put tomatoes in your fruit salad. No idea what that might involve.
Luck – worse than wisdom. How do you even test luck? How is it even a stat? It doesn’t have a key to find and the glyph is funny, I might leave it until last.
He had no idea what to pick, and he knew he’d have to do them all eventually. Otherwise his wonderful, wonderful golden healing pool would drain, leaving him to die of hunger or, more likely, dehydration.
Eh, fuck it, I’ll just do them in order. Clockwise.
Behaving like a mad completionist playing a video game had worked well on the floor, so Alex figured he might as well keep at it. Doubling down, he cut off the sleeves of his robe and tied the smaller ends of each tightly shut. He waited to see if there’d be any mental notification confirming his successful crafting of a [dirt holder sack], but alas, whatever was in charge of such things didn’t seem to appreciate his newfound crafting genius. He left one sleeve-sack on the atrium floor in case he lost his first, along with about half his length of cord. He finished equipping himself by scooping dirt to fill his first makeshift sleeve-sack. Even better, he’d effectively transformed his robe into a rugged tunic at this point and reckoned he was looking rather stylish.
Having checked to ensure that his ring was recharged, there was nothing more to it. Alex walked through the portal and into the constitution trial.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
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Dear Areana,
I hope you and the rest of Dravin’s Ford are keeping well. This letter may take longer than a week to reach you, as the runners I am sending from Linosa will not be reborn (given the time of year).
We will no doubt communicate through the obelisk network before this arrives, but I wanted to provide you with physical copies of two strange documents which recently came into my possession. I will explain the circumstances during our scheduled link after the autumn solstice – this letter merely accompanies some supporting evidence. To be honest, half the reason I write this is so that if my runner is apprehended by bandits who find themselves reading it, they will know to return both the runner, and letter, to you. Or else die violently! I've been bored lately.
Edrick chuckled to himself before signing off.
For the Good of Misceteria,
Edrick Linstone
Then, as an afterthought, he added a postscript. He’d probably remember to ask later during the mental link, but never hurt to write smaller details down.
P.S. Do you have the royal academy numbers for average time taken to complete the zeroth-floor challenge? Will explain over the link, would appreciate if you could have a copy of the reports made for me and mailed back.
As a frontier town with a relatively low-level obelisk, Linstone had no easy access to the royal library's records, and frankly the capital didn’t have time for him over obelisk-based channels. Still curious about the missing young man, Edrick was hoping to compare his timing to the records, and he knew that the academy kept close tabs on their students’ trial results and preparations.
The gods might screw with one’s memories when they left, but that didn’t mean that there weren’t workarounds. In fact, studying the challenge statistics was a big part of formulating a successful strategy before going in, and almost an unofficial sport at the academy. Edrick felt a wave of nostalgia for his old school in the capital as he remembered the theories that had been peddled within his own class of young elites.
Completion time, for starters, was impossible for the gods to conceal, and it was well-known that reliably high scorers tended to leave the trial quickest. However, statistical inspections revealed that such trends were general only – two of the strongest graduates from his class of two hundred had taken over three entire days, which was the longest people ever seemed to spend in there. Several students had gone in with the intention of staying as long as they could, and most of them hadn’t re-emerged. A few had, but they'd been secretive types. Compounding the issue, fifty-three of his well-trained classmates had died on the zeroth floor, which really drove home the point that even the best scholar had trouble guessing what mistakes the dead might have made.
Other information could be gleaned from participants’ final scores… if they chose to share them. It was predictable that stronger participants would emerge with higher strength, and so on for most stats. Luck was theorised to be linked to periods of pain and turbulence, as those had birthed some of the delvers with the highest known luck in history.
Edrick rolled the finished letter up, then grabbed his colossal [Blackened-Bone Battle Axe] from its position leaning against his desk and stepped back with it, swinging the massive, menacing blade such that it rested in the air over an unlit candle. He channelled a fraction of the epic bound item’s stored power with a thought, and it burst into aggressive red flames… successfully lighting the candle, and in fact melting off its entire top. Perfect. He was careful not to do this under a ceiling beam, as he didn’t want to repeat the incident with his last desk.
His mind still on the topic of luck, he found himself recalling some research he'd once done on the notorious delver known in polite company as ‘Double F’. The man had emerged with a luck stat rumoured to be above twenty, and somehow grown it since. Double F, like many high-luck delvers, was rumoured to be almost insane, having entered the challenge in an apparent suicide attempt after his family were killed in the Lynathi inversion fifty years ago. As a reborn, he’d played a major role in the suppression of the tier-five catastrophe which had destroyed swathes of Lynathor, and his powers were ricidulously unfair.
Edrick had just deactivated his axe and replaced it by his desk when he heard the guildmistress’s voice from outside his door.
“If you need a mage for fire, you can always ask, you know. Or just buy a flint?”
Edrick snorted. “The axe is easier. Half the reason I kept the damn thing. Perfect timing, by the way.”
“I still have [Clairvoyance] up, and you trigger the danger sense whenever you use your stupid axe like that. I’ve told you this before.”
He smiled innocently, as if he didn’t know full well that his casual use of the axe annoyed her and her stupid magic danger senses. He’d spotted her walking across the courtyard under his window earlier and done it deliberately.
She smiled right back at him. “I’m sure we all learned a valuable lesson the last time you set your office on fire. I would hate for that kind of accident to repeat itself.” It was a nice sentiment, but her tone was vaguely threatening.
Chuckling in a way which invited her to try her best (he could use the exercise), Edrick rolled his letter up with the two sheets of slightly burnt paper Eleanor handed him, sliding them into a message tube he'd had waiting on his desk. He began dripping candle wax over the lid of the tube to seal it.
“I had copies made,” she added; back to her usual, businesslile, moderately-less-threatening self. “Just so you know. Hopefully, someone in Dravin’s Ford can translate the originals or get a mana trace. The bad news is that we’ve concluded our investigation on the rift and still have no clue what caused it, other than that it was spatial magic on a scale which shouldn’t be possible. My only theory is that the gods are somehow involved.”
Edrick sighed. This was going to be either a huge headache or a non-event, then. “I hate the gods.”
He received a trademark eye-roll in response. “You and everyone else with a luck stat under ten.”
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The constitution trial was about as much fun as Alex had expected, which was to say it was no fun at all. Like the strength trial, it took place in a small, cubic room. This one had hundreds of small, finger-sized holes in the walls.
Welcome to the Trial of Constitution. Remain conscious or die. Commencing Stage One.
As soon as the voice had spoken into his mind, a giant ant had crawled out of a hole in the white stone wall. Were they burrows of some sort?
Remain calm, remain calm. It's just a big bug, and stage one should be easy.
Alex activated his ring and was immediately rewarded for his approach, a golden thread pointing to one of the ant burrows on the far wall just above eye level. Dodging around the ant, he jumped and snagged the constitution key, tucking it into his cord belt. His mind’s eye watched as his trial key counter ticked over to (2/6).
Nice! Incredibly easy, actually. Now to wait for the next stage.
He continued to dodge around the ant, awkwardly carrying his dirt-sack with him. He was wondering if he should try squishing it when it suddenly leapt at him and exploded into a goopy mess on his right shin.
Alex looked down and frowned. The sticky mess that had been the ant kind of stung, but was that it? Suicide ants?
Stage One Complete. Do you wish to leave the Trial?
Uhhhhh. Nope? I'll keep going.
Commencing Stage Two.
Four ants crawled out the wall, and the goop on his leg began to sting a little more.
Turns out the constitution trial is just a big ol’, ant-based torture chamber, then.
Alex tried to maintain a cheery attitude as the next few stages passed without issue, but as he watched the giant ants continuously crawl toward him, he had to repress an increasingly growing sense of dread. He’d tried stomping them, but that just splattered the acid on the soles of his feet. Squashing them with his dirt sack worked a little better, but they dodged his efforts pretty reliably, even jumping at his face when he got lower to the ground. His tunic, formerly a robe, offered scant protection, as the acid simply soaked through the fabric and burnt the skin underneath. Besides, the ants seemed to be consciously aiming for his exposed skin.
Fuck. Maybe cutting up my clothes was a mistake.
By around stage six, he'd tried stuffing a couple of the wall-holes in one corner with dirt, which did indeed seem to block them. He’d waited a bit before trying it, as he didn’t want the trial to end prematurely this time, and felt he could endure the first stages. Even if they fucking hurt ow ow ow.
Large patches of his skin were covered in ant-acid, and not the over-the-counter variety. The pain was combined with a kind of fierce itching, and it was getting closer and closer to the levels he’d felt in the instants after the solar flare back on Earth, right before his nerve endings had burnt off.
Except this trial won’t be so merciful.
Tears began to form in Alex's eyes. Stuffing holes with dirt hadn't ended the trial immediately, probably because the ants could just crawl through other holes in the walls instead. He’d probably have to block them all.
I don't know if I can manage that in time. There are hundreds. I should have brought more dirt.
Commencing Stage Eight.
Alex found himself curled up in a ball in the corner by this point, his back against a couple of holes which he’d blocked, nice and safe. He held his dirt-sack, which he’d emptied and unknotted, in front of his face like a shield. He'd been relieved to discover that it offered some protection, although most ants still managed to get around it. It did discourage them from targeting his face, which he figured would help him last longer.
His arms and legs were slippery with acid by now, and the pain had quickly become searing. The stuff was near impossible to wipe off, and the swarms of ants were growing in size with every stage. While the initial pain had been manageable it was as if every ant that slammed into the same spot would compound the pain there. Worse, the bugs seemed to be intelligent enough to target the exposed parts of his body despite his best efforts at shielding himself.
Why did I have to tear the sleeves off?
He whimpered in pain as yet another ant impacted against his raised arm, dodging his cloth shield midair. He would have to end the trial soon, surely. Through the haze of pain came a thought.
Wait. The pain is worse when they hit the same area.
...worse when they hit the same area.
Stage Eight Complete. Do you wish to leave the Trial?
Not just yet. I’ve had an idea. Because I’m a fucking genius. Or an idiot. Depending on whether it works.
As usual, the voice didn't answer, which was a shame, because at this point he would take any distraction he could find from the all-consuming pain that wracked his body.
Trembling involuntarily, Alex used the brief reprieve to quickly drop his makeshift shield and jump out of the corner he'd been cowering in, almost slipping in splattered acid as he did so. Hurriedly, he pulled the tunic he was wearing off his body entirely and exposed himself. Then, he stepped naked into the centre of the room.
Either this is the worst experience of my life, or it gets me through it.
Commencing Stage Nine.
As hordes of ants poured through the walls, Alex clumsily bundled the sleeve-sack up with his golden key, tunic, iron shiv, and cord. He held the bundle like a pile of dirty laundry, using the clump of stuff to fend off the incoming ants completely naked. It was getting hard to see through rapidly forming tears of pain, but as long as he didn’t drop the bundle, he shouldn’t lose anything.
He winced and inhaled through his teeth when the first ants began hitting his face, privates, back, and chest. Blessedly, the previously shielded areas hurt less than his acid-coated shins and arms, and he focused his wild movement on distributing damage all around his body as evenly as possible.
Stage Eleven Complete. Do you wish to leave the Trial?
Shivering and spasming on the floor, wrapped around his precious bundle of stuff, Alex croaked out a single word.
“…yes.”
Concluding Trial, awarding bonus point for optimal solution. Congratulations, you survived.
Trial of Constitution Complete.
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Edrick sipped on a delightful, deep red wine he’d bought at the market earlier, gazing reflectively through his office window at the bustling town square below. His earlier musings had made him nostalgic for his school days, back before he'd been reborn. He decided he was rooting for the mysterious stranger. He cast his mind back to his own trial scores over thirty years back, smiling. Most in his class had trained for years and years, reaching peak physical and mental condition prior to entering the zeroth floor. That was the real secret behind the elitism of the royal academy graduates – hard work.
Let’s see… what had the class averages been like again? It had been higher for some stats than others, but…
Hmmmmm. Around 14 in each stat? High-scores around 16? Yeah, something like that.