He mentally moved back to the previous notification and, despite it being his first progression, furrowed his brow. Complicated much? He thought, then sighed and focused on the information. The damage boost was great. However, he had, at best, fuzzy control over that. “More pain, bigger boost. Got it.”
The 28% increase in his flow capacity was easy too. “Half the overload goes to channel expansion. Sooo, more pain means bigger essential guns. Check and check.”
His conductance had initially been determined by willpower and constitution. Both had increased significantly since he’d unlocked the conductor trait. Less his armor bonuses, which were ignored by the calculation, they were at 25 and 32. Using the formula that governed channel capacity for those without the conductor trait, his would be 5.7, slightly more than what he’d gained from the trait progression.
“I guess that settles that.” His capacity was no longer related to his attributes. Despite the slightly lower number, to Carson, it was great news. “I’m gonna kill it in the long game. Conductor increases my capacity as a percentage. So, I’ll be growing exponentially while anyone without conductor is limited to linear growth.”
What he didn’t know was how to view a weave’s required conductance capacity before he cast it. Considering it, he realized none of his spells, including Earthen Fury, had a minimum required conductance. So, he guessed they scaled based upon the power input. Fury’s ridiculously broad damage range supported this, and its description indicated the spikes could be varied in size with the weave structure.
It was a little frustrating to see potential damage but not be able to see actual damage. Really though he wasn’t too bothered, it wasn’t like he was trying to hold back and only hurt monsters a little.
“More is better. Just like my Mimi told me: All the way, every day.”
Besides that, blacking out from overloading his channels had gifted him a dream-world trip to the Pergothian Archives. That alone was incentive enough to endure the body searing pain. More, his real goal was the promised trait evolution–the path of the Magi.
Carson had a hard time comprehending what a spell ten times more powerful than Earthen Fury would even look like. That said, he wanted to cast one, or fifty.
“Car. Hey man, you done with system messages, yet? We’ve got a situation here.” Erramir called over.
Carson bobbed his head. “Yeah. Good to go, got myself a 28% boost to channel capacity, a couple levels and a fancy tattoo just like yours.” He smiled contentedly and joined Erramir and Val at the other end of the train car.
“Nice man. Congrats. What does a 28% boost mean?” Erramir replied.
Carson shrugged then answered with a smirk. “Approximately 28% more capacity to save your asses.”
“Is that all. Well, I suppose I’ll keep that in mind the next time you need fifteen minutes of distractions to get ready. Maybe I’ll come hang out with you and we’ll see how that works.”
“Hey, you made your own bed. I’m not the sadist here. You’re the one that signed up to get pounded. Don’t complain now just because you turned down the gig that offers comfort and a vastly increased ability to kick ass. Besides you’ve got that fancy sword, and your kamikaze attitude, you couldn’t even hang out with me if you tried.”
He made a blank, simple face and affected a caveman’s speech. “Must go cut things. Sitting bad, hitting good.”
Erramir grinned.
Valerie laughed, “That about nails it. I’ll lump myself in with that stereotype too, only difference being that my need is much more whacking centric.” She nodded to Carson. “Good to have you back.”
“Thanks. Now, what’s up guys?”
----------------------------------------
Val traced her finger through a projection only she could see. “Ok, it looks like they’ve bought themselves some time. But they’re also running down a dead end that’s going to trap them against the same massive circular cavern that cuts through the right track.” She sent blockbot’s map into the corner of her vision and turned back to her friends.
She could pull up the map via the Und Varden system for a pretty decent radius around the train car. Unfortunately, Val was the only one with a mapping skill advanced enough to view it. “From the end of the track we should be able to get a clean shot if that thing corners them.”
Carson turned to look out the narrow widow at the two tracks before them and then turned back. “I gotta say, this intel is crap. Annd, these choices suck.” His tone was flippant, but his scowl wasn’t. His friend’s expressions weren’t so different. “Let me just summarize to make sure we’re all on the same page here.
He held up a hand. “One, we go right, go all the way down to this big cavern where the tracks just end. We go right up to the bitter end, basically on the edge of a deadly drop, then sitting on damaged tracks, we shoot our big gun to help people we don’t know, who may not even need help and potentially get ourselves killed if the damaged tracks collapse.”
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
He held up a second finger. “Two, we go right, but not as far so we stay off the most damaged tracks, however from further back we won’t have a clear line of sight, so we’ll try to shoot our big gun through ten feet of rock, maybe it works and we help these people, who we don’t know and who may or may not need help. Or, much more likely, we’ll screw ourselves when our bullet detonates the tunnel wall and we end up buried alive, but we probably don’t fall to our deaths.”
He extended a third finger. “Three, we go left, taking the long way around. We don’t help these strangers, who may or may not die, but at least we won’t die, at least not at first. However, when we get there, if they are dead, we would almost certainly end up having to fight this corrupted beast without their help.”
Carson pulled his fingers down then slowly extended each one as he pretended to contemplate those options. “These all suck. We seriously need to add a fourth that has a higher probability of us not dying in this metal box and not having to fight some beast that may have already killed another team.”
He looked between them and found no sympathy for his fourth option proposal. “Ok.” He sighed. “How’d I do?”
“Not too bad,” Erramir said. “Other than omitting that they’re possibly Und Varden, an order we’re now also members of, and thus at least somewhat obligated to help, I think you about nailed it.”
“You see Err, the key word there is possibly. They’re also possibly a trio of trolls who looted some of this special Und Varden gear from a team that they killed. Maybe this big corrupted baddie is doing us a favor. They could possibly be corrupted too. This could just be a turf war between bad guys. If so, we’d be way better off letting them beat on each other and then dealing with the winner.
“Or,”–he held up a finger with wide eyes–“maybe we just find another way around.” He waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Whatever is really going on, risking a respawn to possibly help a maybe ally is completely idiotic.”
Erramir looked unconvinced, he was definitely doing that detailed analytical thing. Carson decided to put his argument in simpler terms.
“Look, let’s say a guy walks up to you with a platter of tacos and you’re hungry, but just as you go to grab one, he informs you that half the tacos are turd tacos while the other half are yummy beef tacos. You can’t do any more investigation because the platter is magically protected against investigation. So, the only way to know if you get a good taco or a turd taco is pick one and take a bite.”
He mimed taking a taco and biting into it. “If it’s a yummy delicious beef taco than yippee, good for you. But, if it’s a turd taco, then, well, you just ate a turd taco.”
He looked meaningfully at Erramir; whose face was scrunched in disgust. “You can’t un-eat a turd taco, Err. Let’s pass on this plater of tacos.” Carson paused then added, “Like I said, this intel is crap.”
Valerie was looking equally disgusted by Carson’s analogy, however his final statement changed that to a scowl. “It’s better than the stinking pile of zero that you’re providing.” Being the intermediary to blockbot and thus the messenger delivering said intel, she apparently had some attachment to its quality.
Carson conceded. “That’s true. However, I would also argue that we’d be much happier not having to make these kind of potentially sacrificial choices. Self-sacrifice is way over-rated.”
Erramir, having at least partially recovered from his disgust, spoke up. “Car, your analogies are horrible. I mean absolutely, offensively, terrible. I actually think you made it so disgusting just to try and get us to overlook the fact that it’s not accurate.”
Carson had in truth done exactly that. It wasn’t a new strategy and it worked sometimes. Erramir, unfortunately, had his big brain hat on today so he just shrugged. “I think it’s apt. Who the hell wants to eat a turd taco?”
“Seriously dude? Enough with the tacos. You’re just being an ass now and I really just want to forget I ever heard your twisted comparison.”
Taking a deep breath before exhaling slowly, Erramir continued, “I seriously doubt your troll and turf war theories. That said, those things are at least possible, so I think I have a way to we can be sure.”
He turned to Val. “Ask blockbot if he can find out when the last Und Varden team was deployed down here. And then ask it if he knows when the one before that was deployed, not including us obviously.”
Val considered. “That’s clever.” She cocked her head, clearly communicating with Virginwood.
“Unghhh, c’mon dude. I don’t want to die again,” Carson whined. Then he sighed, his posture drooped. “If we end up doing this, at least let me try and reinforce the tracks before we pull the trigger.”
He actually agreed with Erramir. They probably were allies. It was also his opinion that the threat of a respawn, at some unknown location, was just too big a risk, no matter who they were. “And after this, we need to figure out respawn mechanics.”
Erramir agreed with Carson completely. “Absolutely. That one thing is totally screwing with our decision-making process. There’s no way respawning is going to just handle itself in a convenient way. Not considering how we basically have to figure out every mechanic through trial and error.”
Val turned back to them. “Ok, so take this with a grain of salt. But Virg’s translation of blockbot’s answers are, today and none of the todays.” She shook her head with a wry grin.
Erramir wondered aloud, “So, the last team deployed today and the one before that deployed…” He paused, frowning at the phrasing. “None of the todays?”
“Yes,” Val said. “And, despite that sounding like nonsense, I think I can infer that this is the first Varden team in a long time to be deployed down here. And since we’re the only factor that’s changed in a very long time, I also think it’s a good bet they’re here because of us or something we did. Which makes them allies, even if they don’t know it.”
“Exactly,” Erramir agreed. “Logic dictates that they are allies and only down here because of us, so we have an obligation to try and help.” He nodded toward Carson while looking at Val. “Good news, Carson says he can stabilize the tracks, so they won’t collapse.”
Val narrowed her gaze at Carson. “Really Car. All that turd taco BS and you knew you could stabilize the tracks?”
Carson looked at the ceiling and sighed. “I just don’t want to die, Val. We’d probably respawn in the Whitewood. Aside from that being like forever away from here, there’s also a psychopath elf back there who’s supposed to be my trainer.”
Erramir put a hand on Carson’s shoulder. “We’ll be fine. I have total confidence in your track stabilizing ability. In fact, I have 28% more confidence than I had this morning.” He grinned. “Now, let’s go shoot this big gun.”