CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Price of a Soul

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It took great effort, and mostly thanks to Renfri, that Bram and Hajime managed to return to the entrance of the cursed cave with their two beaten blackheart stags in tow.

Fortunately, Rowan had prepared something earlier in the day to make the journey less harrowing, wielding the transmutation arts to forge a hidden path behind the cliff wall that made it unnecessary for one to climb up the treacherous cliffside to reach the ledge that was the cursed cave’s entrance.

“Soon it’ll be a proper temple,” Bram had commented earlier.

By the time they reached the cave’s entrance, Bram and Hajime were exhausted. This was expected of Hajime who’d used most of his magic subduing the second blackheart stag. On the other hand, Bram should’ve fared better with his stamina if he hadn’t insisted on helping Renfri pull the makeshift wooden sled that carried their captives up the path.

Outside the cave, Bram heard loud neighing that sounded suspiciously like laughter to his ears.

“Bloody hell…”

His molten gaze swept toward the four harts he and Rowan had led up the mountain earlier in anticipation of their otherworldly guests. Unlike Renfri, however, these four harts he’d borrowed from his bastion’s stables were too tame to use in a fight against wild beasts.

“This is why I prefer auto-carriages,” Bram sighed.

Renfri made a sound.

“You’re the exception, my friend,” he promised, patting his mount’s rear. “Come on. We’ve got a ritual to finish.”

Their party of three returned to the summoning chamber with their captives and found Rowan waiting for them sitting cross-legged in the air like before.

“Had a challenging hunt?” she asked, teasingly.

It wasn’t the hunt that had been difficult—at least not for Bram. The difficult part was hauling their prey up the mountain. And the prince, not wanting to do menial labor like this again, resolved to streamline the process in the future.

“We’re moving the ritual to Reise.”

While unloading their cargo from Renfri’s sled, Bram quickly detailed his plan to build a mansion on the town’s outskirts where the, as Hajime called it, “Immigration Center,” would be located. It would be large, spacious, and have enough room to store beasts to sacrifice for later.

“We’ll need staff to manage it,” Hajime weighed in, to which Bram replied, “I have a few ideas on the matter.”

Bram hadn’t yet found Rowan’s replacement summoner, but he already knew who to hire for hunting the beasts needed for their rituals…the Mighty Greenwood Gang. Surely, a band of thieves who called the forest home were efficient poachers.

“It seems I’ll have to redo my magic circle in your immigration center.” Rowan glanced down at the floor. “Pity — this was not an easy task to complete.”

Hajime’s summoning didn’t require a magic circle. Now, however, new lines of arcane formula had been alongside the spiral depression at the heart of the chamber.

“This is…” Bram scrutinized it some more, but apart from its outer shape—the circle that formed a protective barrier between the summoner and their summon—and the triskelion within it, he couldn’t make heads or tails of Rowan’s creation. “…It feels different. Otherworldly.”

“‘Tis otherworldly by design,” she answered. “‘Tis a formula meant to weave the Loom onto Earther souls without needing us to start the process ourselves.”

“I see.”

He didn’t, but there was no need to admit it.

“I’ll still need your blood to create a connection.”

“Ah, at least I’m good for something.”

“A drop will do. Over by the triskelion, My Prince.”

Bram slid a dagger’s edge against his thumb.

“Should I expect to be drained of all my blood once we begin summoning Earthers in the hundreds?”

“Worry not. I’ll have figured out an alternative by then.”

“That would be appreciated.”

This second summoning wasn’t as difficult. Nor was the wait as long as the first.

With the end of the blackheart stags came a new beginning—a brilliant flash of crimson light, and Hajime witnessed a sight only Bram and Rowan had seen before.

Blood rose into the air to weave an intricate pattern of roots, bone, and pulsing organs. Skin and hair spread over newly formed flesh, and then Chris and Bridget arrived on Aarde, both naked as the day they were born.

“Eh…?”

Seeing his friends’ privates caused Hajime to look away, though Bram noticed his companion stole a peek at the woman who just arrived and blushed at the sight of her. Speaking of the blonde arrival…

“Wow, that was bizarre.” When Bridget spoke, everyone understood her. “Felt like I was falling up the sky…”

“Yes, Hajime did mention a similar experience,” Rowan replied.

Bridget turned, her brow rising slightly.

“You’re floating.”

“I am.”

“Neat trick.”

“I know.”

Surprisingly, Bridget exhibited none of the panic Hajime had when he was first summoned. She had a calm look about her as if she wasn’t at all disturbed by the idea of her soul being spirited away to another world.

“Can you spare the cloak?” she asked.

“Of course.” Rowan’s feet returned to the ground as she offered Bridget her riding cloak. “Be careful with it. ‘Tis a precious gift.”

“I will. Thanks.” The blonde wrapped the cloak around a well-toned body, though her curious gaze remained fixed on the trickster. “Hajime wasn’t kidding. You’re gorgeous…like an elf from Lord of the Amulets.”

Since he’d understood everything Bridget had said up to this point, Bram assumed the ‘Gift of Tongues’ was properly gifted to her soul, though one word was lost in translation.

“What’s an elf?”

Strange that surprise would finally find itself on Bridget’s face just because of Bram’s question.

Bridget’s brow creased. “A race of beautiful, ethereal-looking, pointy-eared people — not ringing any bells…?”

Hearing this, Bram glanced at Rowan. She fit the description, though her ears weren’t pointy.

Strangely, Rowan knew the answer to Bridget’s question. “There are none of the fair folk here… Not for a very long time.”

“Oh.” Bridget’s expression fell a little. “That sucks.”

Bram couldn’t help noticing that Rowan’s face had fallen slightly, too. He also noticed that she’d used a phrase to describe the ancient ‘fey’ whose legacy of kidnapping otherworlders had become a huge part of their great undertaking.

“Meh, I guess it’s fine.” Bridget turned her frown upside down. “Hi again. I’m Bridget Fowling.”

She pointed to her companion, the naked man, who, unlike her, looked appropriately bewildered.

“The big guy’s Chris Chase. Used to be our boss but now he’s unemployed like me, but if Hajime’s right…” Bridget’s gaze found Hajime, and she mouthed, ‘Holy shit, this is amazing!’ before continuing with, “…You guys want to hire us to build you a game?”

She elbowed Chris in the shoulder.

“Say something,” Bridget insisted.

Finally, as if his brain had finished jumpstarting, Chris unfroze, and said, “Y’all got any clothes to spare?”

Once Chris and Bridget were properly clothed, the duo began admiring the world they’d arrived in. Their gazes swept the length of the summoning chamber—pausing at the two dead stags, observing Renfri lounging on his mattress by the chamber’s entrance—while curiosity and delight filled their faces.

“Holy shit,” Bridget elbowed Chris again, “you’re seeing this too, right?”

“Seeing,” Chris replied, and with a shake of his head, added, “still working on believing.”

Bram noticed that Chris’ accent was different from Hajime’s. It had a low, melodic drawl to it. This wasn’t the only contrast between the two otherworlders either. With his chiseled face, straight nose, fair skin, and large frame, Chris looked like a native-born of Lotharin or even the River Kingdom of Dane to the west. While Hajime, with his sharp features, tanned skin, and smaller physique looked like he hailed from the Hilltop Kingdom of Yamadai in the north or the Valley Kingdom of Xanxi in the far east.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

As for Bridget, she was exactly like Hajime had described her to Bram earlier during their climb back to the cursed cave, which he’d done in near-perfect detail.

Shoulder-length blonde hair framed an oval, square-jawed face with wide cheekbones. She had thick brows over almond-shaped hazel eyes, a short, pointy nose, and pursed lips. She was tall like Rowan with a fit form that suggested she cared for her health in a way that Hajime didn’t.

They both seem suited to knighthood…

Bram’s gaze drifted to Hajime, and the judgment was clear in his expression.

At least he’s talented in magic…one can’t have everything.

“Y’all see this?” Chris called, drawing Bram from his musings.

The Texan pointed to the ghostly blue windows that appeared in the air.

Welcome, Chris.

Welcome, Bridget.

Bram and Rowan shared a look, each smiling at the other, because here was proof that the Loom had been properly weaved onto the otherworlders’ souls, which meant that Rowan’s magic circle had been a resounding success.

“This looks like a typical game message,” Bridget noted.

“Makes you wonder how they’d thought to make it like this,” Chris added.

Gazes drifted toward the prince, but he didn’t know the answer because the Loom’s inner workings remained a mystery even to him.

As expected, neither Bridget nor Chris declined the system’s offer. With their acceptance, a new notification appeared for Bram.

CONGRATULATIONS! The arrival of new users has helped to grow the Loom. Resources have increased by [0.003%]. Inviting more users will help remove the penalties of [Administrator Lv.1].

Current resource rate: 0.003%

“Any chance you could grow faster?” Bram asked.

ALERT! There are a variety of ways for the Loom’s resources to grow. With new users, the growth rate increases by [0.001%] for the first [1,000] arrivals. Resource growth using this parameter will decrease once the first threshold is reached.

“A thousand users…” Bram’s brow furrowed. “That’ll be our first goal then.”

The contract ceremony came next.

As Rowan promised, neither she nor Bram needed to drink their guests’ blood to form a contract with them. Instead, Bridget and Chris were each asked to donate a drop of their blood to a meat doll that Rowan fashioned from the carcasses of the beasts used to summon them.

“Is this thing supposed to represent my intent like one of them voodoo dolls back on Earth?” Chris asked.

“It is exactly that,” Rowan answered.

These meat dolls were small enough to fit in one’s hand. They were grotesque to look at, and they smelled nasty too.

“So, we just give it our blood and that’s it — we’re part of the team?” Bridget confirmed.

“‘Tis an act that symbolizes your willingness to join the cause for which we summoned you,” Rowan explained, adding, “They will bind your souls to us for the duration of your…employment.”

Chris and Bridget exchanged a worried look.

“And what if we wanna quit?” Chris asked.

“Then I shall break your dolls and set your souls free,” Rowan answered, with Bram adding, “We’re not looking for slaves to lord over, but partners who will aid us in our great undertaking. Should the time come when our interests no longer align, you’ll be free to go with our gratitude.”

Both Aarders spoke with such conviction that the Earthers couldn’t help but feel relieved.

“Should we discuss benefits?” Bridget asked.

“Look around you,” Bram suggested, “could there be any other benefit greater than a chance to explore a new world?”

“That’s a huge plus, but”—she eyed the shiny gold ring on Bram’s hand that was the symbol for his position as Lotharin’s governor—“we will get paid, right?”

The prince grinned.

Hajime had been too eager to join their mission and hadn’t asked these important questions which could have given Bram a better glimpse of Earth’s inner workings.

“We’ll need to iron out how we’ll do it, but yes, we will pay you for your services,” he promised.

Bram was glad to learn that earning wealth was also a necessary goal for these otherworlders. Not just because he had enough of it to give, but because this sort of mutual transaction of service for payment was a far more reliable foundation rather than one’s blind devotion to a cause. He had seen zealotry before, and he didn’t care for it.

“Is there anything else you’d like to add to this arrangement?” Rowan asked.

“Seeing as death ain’t permanent for us, I guess we won’t need healthcare,” Chris’ expression turned thoughtful, “but maybe year-end bonuses and stock options for when the studio’s up and running.”

He looked to Bram.

“Y’all are planning to build a studio, right?” Chris confirmed.

“It’s why we’re hiring you,” Bram answered. “As for…stock options…?”

Chris explained that stock options offered them a piece of the company that would be built on Earth, and Bram didn’t see a reason not to deny them this boon since they would be the ones to build it themselves.

“We’ll need housing too,” Bridget chimed in.

“And paid vacations,” Chris added.

Much later, once the Earthers had gotten all they asked for in a deal that included housing, sorcery lessons, a budget for equipment and items, becoming permanent members of the prince’s adventuring party, vacation days, sick days, mental health days, and a great deal more of things Bram had planned to offer them anyway, Chris and Bridget finally seemed ready to shed their blood for the great undertaking’s success, though the Texan wanted to add one last provision to their contract.

“Hajime gets what we get too or no deal,” he stated.

“Chris-san…” Hajime looked like he might cry.

“You’re easily impressed, so we figured you didn’t ask for anything and just said yes,” Bridget said, teasingly.

“H-Hai,” Hajime admitted, looking embarrassed.

They were indeed his friends because they knew him well.

“There’s no need to worry,” Bram began.

Once he assured them that Hajime had been included in the deal from the beginning, Chris and Bridget let Bram cut their palms with his dagger so that they could offer their blood to the meat dolls. With their sacrifice given, the little effigies of sympathetic magic transformed into tiny versions of them as if these dolls were shedding off the excess fat from their bodies to become something more likable.

“Oo~~oh, it turned into a Fun Pop,” Bridget said, sounding delighted now.

“Yeah, but, um,” Chris’s brows were still knotted, “we might want to tweak this a bit. Not everyone’s gonna be thrilled with this kind of weird ceremony…”

“That’s what I said,” Hajime chimed in.

Rowan collected the two dolls before disappearing for a short while. She’d gone to take them somewhere safe where no hands but hers could get to them.

“Now that we’re all acquainted, let’s go somewhere more comfortable,” Bram suggested, adding, “Talking of great undertakings is best done over a hearty breakfast.”

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Getting off Sundermount wasn’t too difficult since Bram’s newly formed party had enough harts to traverse the hidden path down the mountain. It also helped that Chris and Bridget weren’t as clumsy as Hajime when riding on hartback.

“You ride well for an otherworlder, Chris,” Rowan noted.

“I grew up in Dallas, Ma’am. Big swaths of farmland and wilderness as far as the eye can see. Riding’s kind of a prerequisite over there,” the Texan explained.

From what Bram had read in Chris’ status, ‘Intermediate Riding’ was indeed one of his passive abilities, created after the Loom had analyzed the otherworlder’s natural talents. Incidentally, ‘Athletic’ and ‘Bodybuilding’ were also passives Chris automatically earned thanks to how he lived on Earth.

The Texan patted his brown hart’s neck. “This guy’s doing all the work. I’m just coasting on his coattails.”

Bram shared Chris’ enthusiasm for the harts, and he patted Renfri’s neck with a loving hand.

“So,” Chris’ brow knotted together, “I reckon Hajime’s losing his fight.”

The Japanese man was struggling with his steed further behind the trio.

“S-Stop, please!” Hajime pleaded. “Stop — not toward the trees — yamete!”

The prince chose the tamest of the harts in his bastion’s stables for his guests, especially for Hajime who’d admitted the previous night that he’d never ridden. Unfortunately, not even the most well-trained beast could support Hajime’s abysmal riding skill or the lack of one.

“Yamete!”

As he watched Hajime’s steed take him off the hidden path, Bram couldn’t help thinking it wasn’t entirely the otherworlder’s fault. After all, wasn’t this gray hart the same one that had been laughing at him the loudest earlier?

“It’s an unruly beast,” he murmured.

Hajime’s steed nearly ran off into the woods of Sundermount’s slopes, and it would have taken the Loom’s new lead game designer along with it too if not for the reflexes of the woman riding the palomino hart next to him.

With deft speed, Bridget—wearing a linen shirt and leather breeches underneath her traveling cloak—plucked the hart’s reins just as it slipped from Hajime’s grasp. She then brought the beast to heel before it could run off with a stern voice and an even sterner glare.

When he saw this, Bram couldn’t help but think that the Loom was truly intuitive. He’d already seen ‘Beast Handling’ in Bridget’s list of abilities.

“Having trouble, Hajime?” Rowan asked teasingly.

“Rowan-sama,” Hajime sighed, “I don’t think this deer likes me…”

“You’ll be fine,” Bridget cut in. “Just stay close to me.”

“Yes, you can save him again before he falls off and dies from an accident,” Rowan said, to which Bridget replied, “And we wouldn’t want that to happen this early in the game.”

They’d only known each other for less than an hour but Rowan and Bridget were fast becoming friends. To think that the rebel trickster of legend could meet true companions among the otherworlders. Seeing this, Bram, who’d had little experience getting along with people his age, secretly hoped he too could become friends with Chris and Hajime.

“If you’re all done fooling around,” the prince turned his gaze toward the path leading to the foot of Sundermount, “let’s move on…and we just might make it to Reise in time for breakfast.”

Bram’s words proved prophetic.

The party arrived at Reise’s gate in the early morning just in time for the otherworlders to witness the town’s waking. Like Rowan’s first time in the Rainbow Town, the otherworlders were wide-eyed over everything they saw of daily life on Aarde. The bustling main thoroughfare with its shopkeepers selling their magical wares, the townspeople who commanded floating brooms to sweep their front yards, and even the gaudy appearance of the mayor’s manse—such sights turned these three adults into children at a theme park.

“What happened over there?” Chris asked.

He pointed to a curious sight; a patch of dead earth whose ground had blackened as if it had been scorched with unholy fire.

“An improvement,” Rowan said, giggling.

In front of this scorched earth was the sun god’s temple, which, at this early hour, had its golden-robed clerics bustling about, with one or two of them attempting to cast spells that Bram guessed were meant to heal their blighted front lawn. Golden sparks flared from the tips of their fingers and a golden aura much like the rays of sunlight touched the blackened earth…and failed to improve its condition.

Rowan’s giggling doubled in intensity.

Worried someone might notice her blatant disrespect, Bram urged the others toward the Journey’s Respite. However, as he glanced over his shoulder, taking one final look at the priests’ disgruntled faces, the prince noticed another interesting thing.

The burnt stake that he’d seen only yesterday was gone. It had been replaced by a fresh one that had yet to be touched by fire.

He hoped the clerics of Phoebus weren’t feeling overly devout today. He didn’t need Chris, Bridget, or Hajime to witness a burning. Not on this morning when they’d just finished signing their souls away. Bram knew better than to hope though. The zealotry of Phoebus’ clerics was legendary.

“This is why I hate zealots… If we’re not careful, they’ll come for us too.”

With this disturbing thought planted in his mind, the prince followed his new companions into the inn.