Chapter 6: A conversation

Just like me, the dryad savours the name by saying it out loud. “You chose a new name, I assume?” he asks.

“Yes,” I reply awkwardly. “Is it too simple?” It’s weird to talk. My voice sounds like incomprehensible screeches to me, but the dryad seems to understand me perfectly. Maybe it is a skill, or that we both are nature-aligned?

Immediately upon my question, he shakes his head, “No. I like it. I assume you chose it to fit this life?”

I scratch the back of my head. “My old name didn’t really represent the new me.”

He shows me a place to sit between the glowing mushrooms. The moss is far too fluffy to be ordinary, it almost feels as if I’m sitting on a luxurious bed, woven from silk and stuffed with the finest duck feathers.

To my right, there is one of the glowing mushrooms. I want to reach out and touch it with my fingers; feeling if it pules each time when the light dims or brightens. Though, the things in nature back on Earth that were very vibrant often were poisonous. I wonder, is it the same in this world? Does the vibrancy of colour show how poisonous mushrooms are? I throw the question on the pile of questions in the back of my mind.

The dryad pulls me back to the conversation, “Some share that sentiment and leave their old name behind them as they begin their second life,” he searches for the most comfortable position against the tree trunk. After having found it he adds, “Those who do generally live longer too.”

I shiver. There are more people like me. It was a bit stupid to assume that I’m the only one. “How many are there like me?” the words leave my mouth before I know it.

The lips of the dryad split into a small grin and he chuckles to himself. His kind demeanour fades for a second and like a monster looming at the bottom of a lake, there is something behind the facade that scares me.

“You know,” he says, “Every one of your kind that I have met has either asked that, or a question relating to their past. A long time ago I even had a couple of bets with friends about this,” his voice turns slightly sour at the end.

He scratches his chin and mulls over the question for what feels like an eternity, “It is hard to say. Around here? Not a lot. In other parts of the world though, there are entire cities that consist of second-lifers.”

I frown at his answer, “So how large is the chance I can meet someone from my world?”

He shrugs, “Depends on which of the lesser universe you came from.”

I freeze, “There are multiple universes?”

It’s the dryads turn to freeze. His eyes which had been scanning the sky, turn back towards me, “You didn’t know? Oh, you must’ve been a human then.”

How does he know that? Is it common knowledge that there are multiple universes?

I ask the question while trying not to let suspicion leak into my voice. He is a lone dryad in a forest. There is no way he knows things like this.

Like before, he mulls over this question too before answering, “All of the Greater races in their own lesser universes have reached the Illusory wall at some point. Humans are the only exception. I don’t really know the reason why though,” He returns to study the sky giving me the time to digest everything.

Just in that reply there is enough packed in there to make my head spin. Lesser universes and Greater races…what even are those.

“…I’m a bit lost” I admit after a bit. He glances at me again, his lips curved in a small smile.

“Uh, let me think. There are some things that are important for second-lifers to know. Most of the system-related questions aren’t that important for now since everything is pretty basic at the lowest grades,” he speaks to himself. “But maybe it is important to tell you a bit about this world and the geography?” he asks himself and me at the same time.

He stands up and walks towards the lake. I trail him behind him, staying close. Those Moss flamingos are definitely eyeing me up. The dryad remains silent until we reach the water. Even then he is still lost deep in thought.

I take the time to drink some water and look at my own reflection. From the little I know, I look like an ordinary mandrake, however, I might be more humanoid than the ones portrayed in myths.

My eyes are drawn to my face and the crown of leaves that sits atop my head. My face is, to say the least, cute in that chibi style. Two comically huge beady eyes sit on my face, reflecting the world around me.

The crown of leaves, on the other hand, is smaller than I expected, only existing out of a dozen or so leaves that are currently catching every ray of sunlight that falls on them.

*Photosynthesis (C) lvl 1/20 -> Photosynthesis (C) lvl 2/20.

Skill levels!

The dryad begins to talk, “Okay so the basics. You are currently in the great forest of Luxia. It’s a kingdom governed by dryads and forest dwellers. To the east, there is a human city-state called Zulis. You should also stay away from the eastern parts of the outer forest. Humans roam there occasionally. To the south, there are the Wetlands and the Purple bog. To the west, lies the Plateau; a human kingdom. And finally, to the north, lay Siruna’s mountains. Actually, you shouldn’t worry about any of them, except for Zulis. Petulan zealots they are.”

“Anything else I need to keep in mind?” I ask while trying to push the calm energy my leaves provide at bay.

“Mhhh, Yeah, since you are a second-lifer and a mandrake you have to watch out for any humans. You do not only have one but two targets on your back.”

“Two?” I ask confused.

“Zulissians believe that second-lifers that became a monster in their second life have committed foul deeds in their first life. The worse the monster, the worse the crime. Mandrakes are pretty high up that list, I think,” he says with a shrug.

Something changes in him. His head snaps to the stream.

“Stay behind me,” he commands, all the mirth out of his voice. He reaches into the space next to him and pulls out a wooden spear.

“What’s going on?” I blurt out like a fool.

“Just some annoying Fortress beavers. Honestly, I should take care of them before the Courts demand it, but the experience is just too good,” he stretches his arms and shakes them loose.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

When I find the spot the dryad is glaring at, I see it. A brownish blur speeds next to the stream towards us. It circles the lake and beelines for the strange tree.

I look at it horrified. That blur — beaver — is moving as fast as a car.

The muscles in the dryad’s arm bulge as he throws the spear. The air screams out in pain as the spear forces it apart.

A crunch and a squeal later, the blur stops moving, impaled by a spear. He- he threw that spear more than a hundred metres away and hit the target dead on. The Beaver twitches as blood leaks out of the wound. In the quickly growing pool of blood, red mushrooms with black spikes sprout.

I stay silent while the beaver spasms and more mushrooms grow around it and push their spikes into the poor creature before it finally dies.

“What?” I stutter, not even able to comprehend the power this dryad has at his fingertips.

He mistakes my question and elaborates once again, “Just some stupid beavers that have set up shop upstream. They keep coming for my tree since it has a high magical density.”

“Should I leave?” I really, really don’t want to be in the crossfire between beavers that run as fast as cars and a dryad that can launch spears like a ballista.

He shakes his head as he pulls a second spear out of thin air, “You are safe here. These scouts pose no threat to me, although the time that I need to head upstream and eradicate them is quickly approaching. Now that they have grown so large, they are actively destroying the forest. The dam they built is making everything below it dry out,” he throws another spear and impales another beaver.

Instead of pulling out a third spear, he opts for a bow with poisoned arrows as he sees more beavers burst into the clearing in bigger numbers.

“Oh right,” he says as he fires arrow after arrow, without looking. “Here is something you need to keep in mind: Use your skills every chance you get. Use Identify on everything. Skills are a cornerstone of this world. Too many second-lifers adjust too slowly. They forget that they have certain skill or perk and end up dead because of that,” he lectures as he commits a massacre.

The conversation falls silent as I just watch him kill beaver after beaver. The strongest and fastest ones arrived first. Now it is just down to dozens of beavers that don’t seem to blur past and move at a more manageable pace.

The dryad stops halfway drawing an arrow. He puts it back and pulls one out that has a different type of glowing poison on the tip. He fires it at one of the weaker beavers.

Yellow gas spills out of the corpse, making any beaver that runs through it collapse a few paces later.

In just a few minutes he killed all the beavers. He stuffs his bow back in his spatial pocket. And claps his hand, satisfied as if he has done the dishes, and not committed mass murder.

He turns to me, “Where were we?”

During the fight, my mouth has fallen open and only now I realise it.

“You are an (E) grade?” I ask

He confirms it with a nod.

“Are (E) grades always that strong?” I ask baffled. If this is the power of just an (E) grade, things will quickly get out of hand. Maybe birds the size of aeroplanes wasn’t just an idle thought.

For the first time he looks self-conscious, “My strength lies in preparation,” is all he says.

He moves back to his tree and leaps upwards to sit on one of the lower branches. Meanwhile, I keep standing in the sun, hoping to get another skill level. As long as he is around, I can just stand out and about without any chance of death.

“You know,” he says, “It is always good to meet a new forest dweller here in the outer forest. Life here…moves slow.”

An awkward silence falls upon us.

I break it by asking more questions, “So, what happens if I reach the level cap?”

“You can evolve,” he replies instantly.

“Can I change my species?” I ask, hoping to become something else. Simply being able to blend in with bushes and trees isn’t enough for me to continue being a mandrake. Especially now that he has told me that humans roam this part of the forest occasionally, I need to become something else.

He is silent for a while before he answers, “It’s possible, though only if you have reached certain requirements. And even then it might not be in your best interest.”

I fold my arms over each other while looking up at him, “Why not? I don’t think it is in my best interest to be a mandrake that is wanted by every sentient species.”

“True, but you have to take into consideration how the system works. Oh shoot, I should have told you this too. Well, now is as good as any time,” he leaps down from his tree and sits on the mossy carpet between the mushrooms.

“You see, the system, as intricate it might be, follows a few basic rules. One, if not the most important rule, is fairness.”

“Fairness?” I repeat after him.

The dryad nods, “The system has to be fair at a few key points. Challenges set by the system always have to be winnable by an individual. The path someone travels, a monster in this case,” he points at me, “Has to be rewarded accordingly. You see, with you being a mandrake that is wanted by everyone, you walk a difficult path. That difficulty is rewarded by the system.”

So I am basically playing on Hardmode. The worse the difficulty, the greater the rewards.

The dryad continues, “But don’t ever think that fairness will protect you. It begins and ends with the system. Even now, with how old this world is and how long the system has existed, it is still a hot topic that everyone is constantly arguing over.”

“So, I should stay a mandrake?” I ask, already getting tired of the explanations.

He shrugs, “It all depends on the evolution options the system will give you. It is your life either way.”

A frown settles on my face but it is quickly interrupted by a notification.

*Congratulations. You have gained a level. You are now level 2.

+ 2 HP +1 SP +1 Constitution +1 Mind.

“Huh?” I say aloud.

The dryad cocks his head to the side.

“I just gained a level but I didn’t kill anything,” I elaborate.

He points towards the crown of leaves sitting atop my head, “Ordinary mandrakes level up as they photosynthesize.”

Oh right, that’s kind of logical.

In the end, we keep chatting until the sun begins to set. I learned a lot about the world but he was a bit hesitant to elaborate on some topics. One of them was information related to the system. He just kept saying that it wasn’t really relevant to the lower grades.

After I asked it again but worded differently he shakes his head, “I can tell you but it will just be a waste of your and my time. You know, most second-lifers never achieve their first evolution. And as much as I want you to make it, you might not. From what you’ve said, you only fought a fledgling Cokoca. I’ll tell you if you survive for a while,” he says casually.

It sours my mood a bit. He’s right and with me being a mandrake it is only made worse, but still. Can’t have some trust?

He scrambles up his tree again, lazing on one of the branches as he tells more about the outskirts of the forest.

I’m still a bit suspicious of him. It is just odd that a dryad in the middle of nowhere knows things about other universes. It just doesn’t make sense. But beyond that, he seems to be kind, if a bit strange.

“Anyway, you should head back to wherever you set up your home. Night will arrive soon and the stronger monsters will come out to play,” he says, confirming my suspicions.

I turn to the sun and see that he’s right. I need to leave soon. I turn back to him, “Can I ask one more question?”

He looks back from the setting sun at me and sighs, “Fine, what is it?”

“What’s your name?”

He barks out a laugh, “You know, that is the third most asked question by your kind,” he turns back to the gentle light of the setting sun. “Sairal, that’s my name.”

He leads me out of the clearing and wishes me goodbye, “I hope to meet you again Green. I wish you good luck in this world. Remember to use your skills at every chance. Too many don’t and they pay with their lives.”

The last sentence sends another shiver up my spine. How can he be cheery at one time and at the other so dour?

As I walk back to my home a new thought pops in my mind. On several occasions, he mentioned that second-lifers asked those questions when they met him. But how many second-lifers did he meet to compile such a list?

And how many didn’t take his tips to heart and paid for it?