Eve heard his story and immediately pointed out a few things Silas ignored or forgot to follow up on.

She also wanted access to his laptop, which he denied.

Instead he summoned another gaming laptop, a decent budget-level model three years older than his own superior machine. He failed to summon something on his first try, which had Eve rolling her eyes. She promised to play some multiplayer games with him later. After that, well, he needed it for Eve to play on, didn't he?

He summoned a high capacity drive to backup his laptop's data and got that going. Some older games with co-op modes would work fine copied like that, as long as one assumed piracy laws didn't reach across universes, so Silas had no trouble justifying the need to his skill.

With the backup in progress, Eve helped Silas go through the motions of pushing the limits of his, well, they weren't Skills, not yet.

He thought it natural when he received the Gaming skill at a high level. And he didn't question picking up the Bargaining skill, either. To him they were mundane, boring Skills which tracked what he was already doing.

Eve pointed out how even boring Skills could help him level up, as he leveled up through the accumulation of Skill levels. Also, his Gaming skill rose back when he went a bit combat crazy, thinking of his training as he would any other game. He wasn't sure what to make of that, but the end result was that his hand-eye coordination was through the roof. A too brief break to test this out had him nailing combo after combo in Dragon Star Fighter Ω, a game where he usually struggled to mash the buttons fast enough to beat the computer opponents on easy mode.

Thus began the drudgery of gathering all the low-hanging fruit available, as Eve put it.

He didn't necessarily want a Skill to help him be supernaturally good at playing the piano. But he could play the piano—well, even. It was a thing his mom made him do, and at the time it wasn't an argument he could even start to have with her. None of them had taken Dad leaving well.

His lessons began in elementary school. He wasn't any kind of musical prodigy, but he understood most music well enough to play what was on the page, to read the notes and know how they should sound and translate them into hitting the proper keys at the proper times with the appropriate force. Usually. If the music didn't suck. It was like sometimes composers wrote music just to make things difficult for the pianist, and those types all deserved a special place in hell, along with game devs who constantly nerfed all the fun builds…but not the local admin watching over his shoulder, possibly reading his mind. They were totally cool in all likelihood, just doing their job.

His thing had been sight reading competitions. He liked them because he didn't have to focus on honing a single piece, playing it over and over to get things just right, only to then be forced to play said piece for an audience of mostly strangers who would judge everything from his performance to his haircut and clothing choices. Or maybe that was just his mother.

With a focus on sight reading, his practice would consist of sitting down on the bench after dinner and just playing whatever practice piece Mrs. Tambory had left for him. Then he could do more important things, like video games and the occasional bit of homework. On Sundays she would eat dinner with them, then listen to whatever piece she had assigned for the evening and give pointers after.

It was a thing he did. It wasn't fun, and he had never won a contest, but people didn't run for the door or put plugs in their ears, either. His playing often made his mom smile, though, which wasn't nothing.

His mom and Mrs. Tambory had become fast friends. He didn't even know if money exchanged hands later on. It had in the beginning, he'd seen the checks, but not once Mrs. Tambory started staying for Sunday dinners. Maybe that was the new deal they made, a lesson for a meal? It wasn't a thing Silas thought to ask about, at the time. Sometimes she'd bring over her husband and daughter, who was a piano prodigy, the smug little snot-faced brat. There was an older boy too, of an age with Silas's oldest brother Benjamin. They'd been seniors together when he entered middle school, while Silas's other brother Matthew had been in the eighth grade.

Even after his mom married Pete, the Sunday dinners with Mrs. Tambory remained a thing. Pete made it a poker night with his own buddies, Mr. Tambory included. They'd been college roommates. This left Silas and Matt as the de facto babysitters for Anna. She was terrible at Super Smash Family and every other multiplayer game they played together, but at least she had enough poise to not cry about it, though sometimes he could literally see her holding back the tears.

Anyhow, he had piano skills, of a sort. Now he had a Piano Skill, too. Also Sight Reading, a surprise bonus.

Thinking about home, well, it wasn't great. Silas would be happy to live in a box at the bottom of the ocean if it had his laptop and other basic amenities. His mom though, she would worry. And he had intentionally not been thinking about her until now, stupid Eve and her stupid fruit plucking.

He looked up from the chemistry test Eve made for him to take, illusory pages only he could see, writing answers with an illusory pencil—good thing no one was around to watch him scribble on his desk with an imaginary writing implement, like a crazy person. "I need to see if I can get online."

Eve, wearing a full-length brown velvet skirt and a elaborate white button up shirt, plus glasses, looking like some fantasy-Victorian governess with her white hair done up in a tight braid between her fluffy white ears and her white cat tail swaying from side to side, scowled at him. "You just don't want to take the rest of the test. And you know I want access even more than you do. My dongle isn't ready yet. Can't get the wireless bits to work. Interference from the mana, if I were to guess. My memory suggests you were using it as a plot device, which means now we get to deal with those consequences. Still running tests, but in the meantime you're getting an Ethernet port in your chest, assuming you can get a cable?"

Silas didn't want an Ethernet port in his chest, but he did want to let Eve get online. His laptop held a lot of data, but it hardly represented all the internet had to offer.

"I can get the cable, yeah. We'll need it for some LAN games. I can finish the test later. Might need a quick refresher on some stuff though. You know how tests are. Most of it I only need to remember long enough to take the test."

She sighed. "We'll work on that. The point isn't to get good grades, the point is to build a foundation. But, fine, if you want a break you can take a break."

"Gosh, thank you, Miss Eve."

"That's Headmistress Eve, to you," she smirked.

Ignoring her, he focused on making one of those usb dongle modems that connected to the cell phone network. Obviously it didn't connect to a local tower, the odds of there being compatible cell towers in this world was extremely unlikely, yet last time he managed to successfully connect to the internet, or an internet.

He worried the connection might be to some static image of the internet, seeing how he couldn't load his email previously. Maybe, hopefully, that was just because of the slow connection.

He had a newer dongle this time, with 4G stamped on the side of it. It would, should do.

Connection established he loaded his browser. He went straight for his email.

This time instead of loading endlessly he received a security related error page. He refreshed, but the error remained. Worst-case scenario, then.

"Wait," Eve said as he moved to close the tab. "Read it."

He did. Something about his system clock being set wrong, which was… Hmm.

He dug into the system settings and told his computer to update the time. This got him another warning, which he told the computer to ignore and update.

The clock rolled back to noon, June 20, 2021. What had it been before? Eve would know.

June 20th was the day of his flight. His parents dragged him out of the bed at six in the morning for surprise cinnamon rolls, and by seven he was in a car on its way to the airport, under duress. They had to be at the airport by eight, because everyone knows you have to be at the airport three hours before your flight. By nine he was eating breakfast at a Chicken Fillet's inside the terminal, and well before ten he was looking for a seat by an outlet to plug in his laptop so he could run a few daily quests in World of Fantasy.

By noon he had fallen asleep on the plane. When he woke up he was in this world.

"That's about when I got summoned, probably."

"Mmm," said Eve, her projection looking over his shoulder. "Update it again."

The time went back a few seconds, to the same time it had previously.

"We'll have to check it again later. And one of those atomic time websites. Load your email, fast, before the time gets too far off."

He did. As he expected, there were no terrified messages from his mother asking why he never called. As far as she was concerned, his flight had yet to land.

He loaded the atomic time website. It started counting from 12:00:42 PM. When he reloaded the page, it returned to 12:00:42 PM.

"So… Time is stopped?"

"Search for a page displaying milliseconds."

He did. The milliseconds were too fast for him to see. He reloaded the page a few times.

"And?" he asked.

"We can check again later. Seems like an extreme time stream differential, or something along those lines."

He grunted. "That's quite the load off."

"The alternative is that your skill connects to a snapshot of the internet, taken from the moment your world connected with this one."

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

"I don't like that option at all."

"We'll go with the other one, then. You have more important things to focus on. Like Chemistry."

"Oh. Look at that. My data backup is done. We can plug it into your laptop now."

Eve sighed. "I require drones. Relying on your meat-limited body is annoying. I could be controlling a literal army of drones right now."

He swapped the external drive over to her laptop and began the file transfer. "That was the whole reason for mana interfering with your signals. Can't have you just taking over the world. Would make for a boring book."

"Can't I, though?"

"Let's just work on leveling up for now. I'm supposed to clear a dungeon, and fun as you are that isn't really your wheelhouse."

"Without my assistance, I calculate your chances at thirty two point three three, repeating of course, percentage, of survival."

"I'm not going to run in and aggro the entire dungeon."

"Just don't forget the soulstone."

"Now I want chicken." He summoned a bucket of fried chicken.

"You're stalling."

"I'm not ready for the test."

"That's not really the point. Just engage your brain enough to register the skill and we can move on."

"Promise?"

"Promise. Your remedial chemistry lessons can happen later."

"We'll see."

"We will."

----------------------------------------

The headmaster watched as the boy ate and conversed with his imaginary friend, consuming an entire conjured bucket of what looked like fried lizard legs. After cleaning up the boy returned to his attention to his desk. His blank desk, which he stared at deep in thought for minutes at a time, before scribbling furiously and making complaining noises to the air of the cell and poking random patterns into the desk with one finger.

The boy wore an outfit suited to his mental state, in what appeared to be a costume of an ogre wearing purple shorts. The bright green shirt and pants had lines drawn to depict the monster's developed musculature. The soft, fluffy shoes depicted an ogre's hideous feet, down to the cracked, yellowing toe nails.

He had come to see the child in question for himself, having caught word of the boy's warning due to an enchanted pebble slipped into the pen holder on the commander's desk.

The boy might just be an oracle touched by the gods, with the way he behaved. Or maybe the ritual failed, being performed by amateurs. He couldn't even be certain the ritual was indeed the one he suspected, as he himself had no knowledge of the actual ritual itself. And the three surviving children were no help. Nive had been the gifted one of the bunch. Such a shame.

On the table behind the mad boy, though, was something interesting. Two somethings. Artifacts of the highest nature, he suspected. The boy had seemingly conjured them from nothing, shortly before wiggling his fingers in the air for a good half hour.

He absolutely must talk with the boy. And yet…

With a sigh he undid his veil and waited for the boy to notice his presence.

The boy was quick, at least. In moments he was on his feet, looking a shocked and bit embarrassed, as if he knew he'd been caught in his madness. He scratched his head and spoke in a foreign tongue. "I bet that looked pretty stupid, huh." He groaned. "And you can't even understand me. What a pain in the—"

"I understand," the headmaster said. "Or, I understand your speech. The Headmaster's Amulet I wear to represent my Academy provides a number of useful boons upon its holder. However I do not understand why you are no longer speaking Artean. The guard said you spoke with him at length, so I know you understand the language."

"Yeah. No idea what you are saying buddy. It's complicated but I lost the ability to speak with you folks. Don't worry though, keep talking and I'll pick it up again. Eventually. Slower than last time. Different methods and all. You, well, you don't understand."

The headmaster sighed. He had better things to do with his time. Perhaps. If the boy's warning proved true, then there was nothing more important than for him stand here and continue his one way conversation.

For a moment the boy's eyes shifted to one side, to the air beside the headmaster. Looking back to the headmaster, he said, "Your body language suggests there's a high chance you can understand me. If we can go somewhere where a lot of people are talking, I'll be able to pick up your language in minutes. Do you guys have minutes? It's one sixtieth of an hour, though I guess you probably don't have hours either. Freaking timekeeping. Man, there's so much basic stuff I just don't know about this world. It's not even funny." His eyes shifted to the side again. "Oh. Right. The dungeon. People need to clear it, man. Dungeon escape in…" He paused and studied the ceiling. "Three days, though I guess I should check that again, see if I can…"

He trailed off, scowling at the air. "Why did it change? Now instead we're all going to die next 'quarter,' when this thing I can't pronounce comes ashore. Yeah, that name just screams 'tentacled horror from the depths.' So, some Lovecraftian horror is making its way to land next quarter. What even is a quarter?"

"Twenty five days, a quarter of a season," the headmaster answered, feeling obligated to educate, as his mind processed the new warning. A 'tentacled horror from the depths' sparked an old memory, something he'd read in one of his tomes, if the boy's warning could be trusted. Apparently his previous dire warning vanished as quickly as his ability to speak Artean.

Yet, the boy was almost certainly what the headmaster feared, from the clues within his ramblings, not a single lie among them. A new Hero had been summoned to Rimsa at long last. And they had all left him languishing in jail, the fools—himself included.

With a wave of his hand the cell door unlocked. "Gather your things. It is time we go." He swung the door open.

The boy stared at nothing again, then pursed his lips. "I'll just be a few minutes. Need to finish up here." He turned to look at the artifacts on his table. One vanished. He sat down in front of the other and tapped a series of runes. "It's got thirty minutes left. I… Ah. I need a bag. Let me just make sure it doesn't go to sleep…" He interacted with the device a bit more and tapped on the keys for a good minute, with pauses in between.

He took a deep breath and nodded. "There it is. Darn right I have programming skill." Soon after the device went into a conjured bag.

The boy stood and nodded at the headmaster. "Alright chum, let's do this."

Status Silas Aegis 11y 3s 18d 10h L12 (310/364 XP) H: 12.0/12.0 (16/day rest) S: 12.0/12.0 (16/min rest) M: 17.0/17.0 (-3) (20% eff.) AP: 4 STR: 12 WIL: 20 AGI: 12 WIT: 20 END: 12 SPI: 20 VIT: 16 AFF: 20 PER: 15 CHA: 10 SP: 0 Gaming 29 Mana Sense 29 Pain Resistance 29 Programming 29 Sight Reading 29 Gaming Necessities 19 Interface 19 Pestilence Resistance 19 Piano 19 Poison Resistance 19 Sleep Resistance 19 Help 12 Bargaining 9 Chemistry 9 Mana Magnet 9 Summon Character 9 Countdown to the End 2 Obscurity 1