Tim tracked the power source through a series of tunnel connections, steadily smoother and large enough in area to let him run at a good clip. Magic Hunt’s evolution was the difference between tracking prey with a match or a flashlight. His dagger developed a tuning sensation in the handle guiding him toward the magic he hunted.
With Dryfu on his shoulder and Chris running at his side, their progression of tunnels opened into an amphitheater thirty yards deep.
Steps descended in a bowl shape from two other entrances toward a black robed figure with a chiseled stone staff beaming with yellow starlight. The same glaring intensity permeated holes littering his robe and low hanging hood. It radiated through his feet to form a growing island of translucent ruby across the stone slab under him. Tim cast Danger Sense and Analyze as pulses of aura shooting from his dagger. Analyze landed first, but only revealed Warryn as his identifier. His level felt high enough he likely didn’t have to reveal even that. He looked like the type who didn’t mind some fame with his benefits.
Dryfu took wing and pointed Tim backwards. “Go. While he’s immobilized. Get help.”
“You’re gonna pay for that skull,” Warryn said.
Ruby light outlined his narrowed stare. Danger Sense sent needles to probe the light, and traces of what Tim felt the night before sparked to life. This could be the artisan who’d failed on his rogue leveling spell.
The island pulsed with matching hue, shaving off a brick of energy from the source. His glare rose to land on Chris.
Tim cast Brother’s Keeper, turned and leapt.
A spike of light cracked the stairs, splitting them into diverting waves.
Tim’s foot landed in its path. Electric hellfire lanced up his leg. He bounced and yelled out. Half his health disappeared in a flash. His boot smoked pungent burnt leather. Every inch from toe to stomach buzzed with aftershocks.
Heat bubbled under his skin then evaporated as Protection sucked it out. He still lost 14 HP before tumbling over the rough stone steps.
Protection has evolved to grant the ability: Battleground. Castable with a maximum range of fifteen feet. All allies inside the Area of Effect (AOE) gain a base of fifteen percent defensive resistance based on the highest defensive stat in the group.
Dryfu spoke into his mind and flew for the ceiling.
Warryn shook his robe and a black bird shrieked, taking wing after Dryfu.
Tim cast Battleground into the space between them and the stage.
Warryn launched another fissure.
Red to white tipped waves sparked out at their feet. Tim’s spells diffused enough to leave him and Chris standing. His shielding might not survive another, and Warryn’s energy glowed as it prepared to test the theory.
Tim had one to test as well. “What level are you?” Tim asked, baiting him. The deposit of strength into the ground had sapped him before they arrived, and it angered him to spend it on defending himself from Tim and Chris.
Magic Hunt rippled in Tim’s hand. The shot erupted—flash, flash—concussive lights pulsing from the staff and point blank in Tim’s face. A vacuum of power sucked into Tim’s dagger. Heat stung his hand and shot the blade into the ground. Aura pulsed into the blue moss growing around Chris’s boots. Instant growth, up to his ankles.
Tim grabbed the dagger and turned.
Warryn shot again.
Parry. Tim stabbed into the energy lighting at the staff. It flashed. A ricochet hit Tim’s toe with the force of a donkey’s kick.
You have learned the ability Draw. At this level, the cost to your HP will equal the MP you steal from your target.
Lovely, Tim thought. His MP had increased by 8, but the bitter pain in his foot begged for the HP back.
The translucent island around the artisan’s robe shrunk.
Chris tapped Tim’s dagger with his staff head and then smacked the ground. Aura pulsed into the moss and spread it out in a wave down the steps. Chris raised his staff and the vegetation lifted through the cracks to ankle height.
Red spikes shot up into a step and cracked off a chunk of helpless moss and rock.
“Sick ‘em!” Dryfu called out from the other side of the auditorium.
Tim charged.
Warryn withdrew another gulp of power.
Fireworks sparked. Experience tingled across Tim’s body as he boosted every area of his Self Defense class in the two-on-one fight. Warryn’s shots hit him with body blows slightly eased by Chris’s interference. The moss that hit his body with each shot absorbed to replenish some of the HP.
Dexterity kicked in to help him weave and dodge. With half a dozen stairs between him and the stage, he sent Magic Hunt into the magician’s aura. He pinpointed a fist sized cavity in his left hip.
Magic Hunt gained a level. Now Lv. 4.
He’d sensed it earlier, but it kept bouncing to other places. Now he had it locked. With his Draw boosted MP supply, he cast a new battleground pad that sent a ring far enough to light up through Warryn’s robes and into his skin. The artisan doubled his staff absorption into the glowing jewel at the top. Tim redirected and tried leaping before the spell erupted. He cast Protection and had barely left the ground before the white-hot spell hit him in the side. Energy seized him into a giant clenching muscle. He smacked his forehead on a stair. In a daze, he checked his health: 22 HP. 11 MP.
He had to hit Warryn before the Battleground boost wore off. The yellow bar indicating the length remaining on his spell crossed slowly below 80%. Blue roots spread onto the stair below Tim and sprouted a magical mist that enhanced his HP regen. The pain calmed enough to rise and charge. He hopped sideways to force the artisan’s shot wide and swung his dagger away. The shot winged him for 10 HP but didn’t stop Tim’s charge. +10 MP.
The ranger’s abilities in battle surprised Tim, especially the ebb and flow of his aura. When he needed a do-or-die move, like now, he drew aura to fuel it. And it worked. Like a conjoining of rivers, his abilities in Fleeing, Parrying and many others all flowed into one path. He pivoted on a stair and jumped onto the plateau. Tim pump faked his axe to force Warryn to guard the magical cavity, then Tim stabbed the other side with his knife. Warryn bellowed and gave in to the pressure in his blade. He stumbled back. Dropped his staff. Blood seeped into the thick fur of his robe as he pressed into his wound. Aura lifted off the dribbling blood in white and pink motes to absorb into his dagger.
Tim channeled all of it into Double Whammo and swung his axe at the cavity. The blade sliced through the skin and muscle easily enough, but when it hit the pocket the energy inside short circuited and zapped his blade up into his hand. The force threw his hand outward, and he lost his grip on the axe. It flew end over end as though spun off a lightning bolt and buried into a stair landing covered with Chris’s pulsating blue roots. A wave of red turning into purple energy coursed up the nearest roots. It passed through into Chris’s staff and bled into his knuckles.
Warryn shivered on the stone stage. His foot kicked out and a spasm twisted from his shoulder into his torqued head. The waves of his power absorbed like oil into his robes and darkened his skin to a deep crimson. A look of fear held his gaze staring into nothing. His lips moved but only a faint whisper escaped.
Tim ensured his knee landed safely outside the aura pool. He took his knife by the grip and slowly leaned his weight to drive the blade deeper. That drew the artisan’s attention. He snarled and a ruby spike sharpened outside his pupil.
Tim’s Magic Hunt skill picked up on a softening in a wall between them, as though maybe they didn’t have to be enemies. He eased back and considered taking the knife out all the way. Adrenaline pumped through him with a fuel that whispered how easily it would be to finish him. Blue roots reached the stage and inched closer. “What are you doing here?” Tim asked.
Something in Chris’s gaze said he was in line with delaying their enemy.
“Skif you, Farar,” Warryn cursed. “The Crimoan will avenge me.”
Tim could have played it cool as if “Crimoan” were a familiar term. “The only friend you’ve got right now is me and I’m ticked about you invading my friends’ hive. What are you doing here?”
The artisan’s face paled, and his gaze sagged.
“Chris, heal him a little,” Tim said. “Just enough to keep him alive to answer our questions.”
Blue vines punctured the artisan’s wrists and fed his veins with similar light under the skin.
“We could do more than just keep you alive for interrogation,” Tim said.
“I won’t join you.” Warryn spit at Tim, landing a bloody chunk on his cheek and a string across his eye. “I’m level four. Don’t treat me like a pilgrim. I’ve killed two Farar sergeants. You don’t scare me. Get it over with.”
Dryfu? Can you fill me in quick?
Why so you can demean me to just being a dick killer later?
I’m sorry, Tim thought, playing along with Dryfu’s tone, but getting impatient as Warryn looked about ready to drive the knife home himself. Why does he seem suicidal? What would the Farar normally do? Who’re the Crimoan?
The Farar would give him a chance to turn his life around and serve them with his gifts or get on a boat to Vigterr. They are a local knighthood who don’t take bribes and only offer mercy once. Their honor doesn’t make it too far into Cocles, and their city-church politics, but in the field like we are, their reputation proceeds them as an enforcement agency against all crimes in this country. Crimoan are the muscle within the cartel.
Ok, so how do I take advantage of this? He thought to himself. Clearly this guy was holding information and wanted Tim to kill him instead of trying to get it out of him first.
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
“That’s enough Chris,” he said, and waved a hand over the healing vines. Looking Warryn in the eye, he showed he meant business, and applied faint pressure to the knife tip. Just enough to remind Warryn where Tim had him. “I am still under the influence of the skull’s spell. So if you think I’m going to pass up experience interrogating a target, you’re dumber than you look. Which is quite a lot.”
Warryn’s face reminded him of the bad guy from Die Hard. He wasn’t ugly, but he had a snootiness about him as though the last person who left a fingerprint on his Porche would be fed to the crocodiles.
Warryn’s reaction of annoyance to Tim’s immature dig was exactly what he wanted. Keep him on his toes about who Tim was. Thankfully, his ranger class hid his party’s levels. He decided to redirect the accusations and see what he can sneak out of him.
Back when he and his brother played Final Fantasy, Chris often volunteered to grind levels. Tonight, they both earned that XP into Interrogation and Healing.
A fuzzy memory of Thron asking Tim if he could hear him. Why did he feel so sick? What was the sticky substance on his face?
Jil and Commander Oke watched from a doorway by the orange glow of firelight. Jil looked detached. She who had led them into battle in the bush maze against the toiga had never appeared so unsure. What was she so confused about?
Tim tried recalling the end of his interrogation. Warryn must have revealed more than he had thought he would for after one nugget he ended his own life with an arcane utterance. Ugh. Tim realized what was stuck to his face, hardening in the crevices of his eyelids. His inventory had an empty bottle. I could beat my face with that…
Aw, don’t hog all the fun. Are you fully awake up? Or is the spell still working its way through you?
I think I’m good. Getting there. What happened?
The cave’s dry interior and deep tunnels implied they were still in a fivel burg. Did we win?
You want your notifications now?
Sure, I like them better than you.
Weird dig, but okay.
You know I love you like a brother, Dry. I still have some of that spell wearing off. Show me please!
Defeated Lv 5 Artisan Warryn
Burg defended without any little ones lost.
You gained two levels in your class! Now level 7 Ranger.
Levels gained in the following Skills:
+2 to Self Defense = Level 5
+1 to Fleeing = Level 3
+2 to Parrying = Level 4
+2 Small Blades = Level 6
+2 Hunting = Level 6
+2 to Magic Hunt = Level 6
+1 to Analyze = Level 3
Gained Skill: Interrogation +2 = Level 3
“Cultivator” evolution granted. You can now store and transfer experience to enhance your powers temporarily. The length will be based on the skill level and the amount of power cultivated.
For example, if you gain 100 experience points for kicking a toiga—
In the dick?
I knew it was a mistake as soon as I said kick.
Yeah, there really wasn’t a good word you could have used to avoid it, but whatever, Tim thought and chuckled. Go on. My one-hundred-point toiga dick kick. Is that a specific skill I can gain? Are you s ranked?
Better believe it. And yes, to both accounts. The whisper rewards specifically when specific actions are performed.
Tim thought back to some actions starting around sixth grade that he wouldn’t want rewarded with a level. Why that came to mind first, he couldn’t say.
Aw man, come on. I didn’t need to see that. Behave yourself here or you could earn a level. Were the whisper on Earth, you would have been s ranked.
Do I need to learn math for this?
100 points times level one dick kicker would store ten cultivation points in that skill. If it was level ten skill it would store 100.
Is that a lot? And do I even get points?
No. And technically no, but you could. You haven’t set up your experience to be quantified that way. I just did to make it an equation that somewhat illustrates the cultivator evolution. We are taught to start our trainees with bars instead of numbers when tracking experience. You’ll now have a second bar under each skill.
As he said, deep purple bars appeared below his green experience bars in his HUD. All were smoky glass and empty.
You can pick a code word or phrase but most trainees prefer to keep it short for use in the heat of battle. That tells me to release your reserves. Each of your purples are built through your class level to limit how many seconds of the power your body can both hold and discharge safely. At yours you can hold seven seconds.
Regardless of the skill I’m using, I get seven?
Maximum by class level, minimum by cultivation points earned and available. You can gain modifiers through items, spells or attributes to increase the ceiling. I’ve seen a pair of briefs that gave the user 2 seconds of cultivation spend after every full rest.
You know, I’m glad you shared that, and I don’t want to say—
You think you’re gonna make a joke about your nickname and them in undies?
Oh, yeah. It’s just a little odd that you’d give that example. Kind of leans toward that particular obsession you seem to have.
It’s the only item I’ve heard of that could boost the floor of your cultivation points without earning them through skill use.
If you say so, he thought with a half-cocked grin.
You think you’re hilarious, don’t you?
Thank you for not kicking me in the mouth. I know that took restraint. Tim’s thoughts went to the die, and he flicked it into the air over his bedroll. Beside him, Jogey gnawed on a stick. He had some fresh scars in his coat, and a wrap around an eye, but otherwise appeared in good spirits.
His brother stared at the ceiling in intense focus.
Weirdo.
Tim rolled: 5 3 3 6.
81 max hp (+8)
50 max mp (+9)
Not terrible. How do my attributes work with my Cultivator evolution? You mentioned how they could create modifiers.
The main two areas with impact are Constitution and Wisdom, with a bit heavier through Wisdom growth. If your body is broken or hurting, it will dampen the outflow of your cultivated mana. That will drain into the wounds like oil into cracks. Higher Constitution leads to greater regeneration so those cracks aren’t so wide, not to mention if you’re frequently injured due to low Constitution, you may need to focus on that more. Healing potions and spells are more triggers to the body’s ability to heal itself. They send both the power and instruction into the body’s genetic code. Constitution is like the processing power behind transferring spells, ingredients and other environmental interactions.
Wisdom, as I mentioned before, represents ability to harness and manipulate spellpower. Cultivation mana follows a similar pattern as spellpower in that definition. The seconds of c-mana you have is set up by the base number of your class level, but then can be modified by Wisdom by one additional second once you reach a score of 15, and then every five after that you earn another second. By the time you reach Wisdom 25 you would have–
Three additional seconds. I got it. Thank you. Tim pulled up his attribute stats.
Str 6, Dex 11, Con 4 (-1 racial), Wis 11, Int 5 (+2 racial bonus), Char 3
He had four per level to spend, so 8 total. His last spend he made up a little for his low initial Constitution total. Now that’s a four and could still get one point maybe—getting hurt slowed him down, so it wouldn’t matter how much dexterity he had if his low constitution contributed to his broken toe. Plus what Dryfu said about that attribute hurting him if he let it stay low.
+1 to Constitution = 5 (-1 racial)
He almost put another before thinking now was a good time to focus on his strengths. The only way he had managed to land the killing blow on the artisan was his dexterity. He put three into that.
+3 to Dexterity = 14
That left him with four points to spend in Wisdom so he could reach that fifteen marker for c-mana.
+4 to Wisdom = 15
Str 6, Dex 14, Con 5(-1 racial), Wis 15 (+1 second to c-mana), Int 5 (+2 racial bonus), Char 3
Tim rolled his head to see his brother who was still deeply engrossed. “If you get to a stopping point, I have a question.” The phrase sounded like something his wife said one time while he was writing. They were laying in bed on a Saturday, and he’d remembered how sweet she was to ask. More than once he’d been shorter than he should have when interrupted. Sometimes Tim wondered why God put Rachel into his life that young, or immature. Had he known how short of a time they’d have together, he would have said a lot of things differently. As well as have spent more time joyfully and available.
“Yeah,” Chris said and rubbed his eyes. “How are you?”
“Good, but before I forget, do you remember much about what happened…” he didn’t know how else to say it but, “when we tortured that guy?”
Chris shook his head. Weariness clouded his eyes in the place of his spells. Then Tim remembered agony in his brother’s eyes from their torture. He’d struggled to stay upright while Tim cut the artisan. He remembered finding a co-authored process between him and his brother which worked because his vines were inside the subject while Tim applied pressure. Chris suffered nearly as much through some kind of interaction between his healing class and the inflicting of pain tied to his roots. Tim remembered Chris telling him to go on. They had just tricked Warryn to reveal… something about the artisans’ plans once the Hunt starts. Chris started to speak but Tim held up a finger, “one sec, I think I’ve….”
Warryn had said he was one of the Dutchy’s recruits, that they were sent out with the nixstone skulls to combine efforts with Wachamia raiders to boost their experience before the Hunt. That was part of the payment to the Dutchy for their donation of their artisan class’s gift: more recruits with experience and levels.
“From there, more rogue leveling,” Chris added, as though riding into the same lane of thought. “For the Grand Duchy of Teglarmat, it won’t matter who wins the Hunt, really. I’m sure they could work something out if they did, but the way Warryn tells it, the Dutchy have scored a hefty arsenal from Wachamia by having their operations here the past year.”
Tim remembered the details of their haul. “Access to one of their monoliths for artisans to craft new spells, a thousand cases of Anmoen Arrows–”
“And a third of Padstoligan Castle’s treasury,” Chris finished.
Tim remembered that was the part where Warryn had looked most scared. He’d cast his suicide spell right after.
The releasing of experience into levels relaxed Tim at the sorest points. Most of all, his head stopped squeezing so badly. Apparently, it had been working hard to crack that nut. Now Tim had to figure out why that information was so important. Why the cost paid for working with the Dutchy, and namely the castle treasury, was so vital a secret to have revealed that it would force him to end his life. “We need to find out what was taken in the third the Dutchy received,” Tim said.
“I know someone from that burg,” Oke said from the doorway, having appeared again while they were speaking. “In the morning, I can share the coordinates of our meeting stone. It looks like you jostled loose what the artisan’s spell was trying to hide. Good work. And good night.”
Don’t forget to pick a code word for releasing cultivation mana.
Would saying Dryfu be too confusing?
Hilarious. I’ll make you scream for mercy you keep making me laugh so hard.
Ok, some version of Thundercats. Thunda. Cat. Kitten. Wait, do you have cats here? If a tune comes to mind, that’ll work also.
That should be fun.
Tim agreed it ought to work out well. Any variation of the feline species is also my code word. You can read my mind and tell if I mean to release cultivation in the context and not, oh look at the cute kitty, right?
Reading your mind is not hard.
Touché. So pretty much any reference to felines or thunder and lightning is good for code to go. Or music.
Just a second, I’m taking notes. Feline and thunder. Also lightning? Jukebox brain. Check. Why not add Mist. Or Moist. I hear that’s a powerful code word.
There were no notes. Just those black eyes and their dick murder reputation transfixed on lucky ol’ Tim.