5. Business Partners

With a swirl of magic and a slight stumble, I stepped onto the cobblestone street of the Slums. Fortunately, I was already getting somewhat used to the teleportation disorientation due to a trick Thwain taught me. You just had to close your eyes before hitting the portal and hold your breath. It helped me immensely, to the point that I was barely nauseous when I arrived.

I stepped neatly to the side, giving my friends the space they needed to warp in, as well. Thwain handled the transition with grace, while Pyro clutched his midsection and turned gray. Before we could take more than a few steps, the greasiest man on the entire floor walked up to us, rubbing his hands and licking his lips.

“Climber’s tax,” he said. The atmosphere in the square grew tense. A handful of the shadier-looking people drew closer while the more nervous ones took a step or two back, hiding behind the fountain or benches. Truthfully, the fountain was more of an empty round tub. It hadn’t spurted water in at least a decade. Yet another example of the Tower’s failing infrastructure.

I pursed my lips, looking at my friends, my hand inching towards my single pistol. Thwain gave me the slightest shake of his head. Not the time. With a defeated sigh, I hobbled over to our extortionist and took out two copper coins, exaggerating my limp. I didn’t have to fake my grimace as I handed over half of my day’s haul.

I was pretty sure the grease ball’s name was Trent or Terrence, though he went by the super cool and fear-inducing nickname “T the Tank.” Sir Tanksalot wasn’t Awakened, as far as I knew. He didn’t have a class, but he was apparently backed by someone who had, in fact, Awakened by climbing the Tower. He was the official figurehead of a fast-growing newer Slum gang, the Rising Tides. They had quickly expanded their territory and were rumored to be openly selling a new kind of drug to anyone and everyone, even going so far as taking loans and work contracts as payment.

T the Tank looked down at the two coins in his hand, then back at me. He paused, as if trying to decide if two coppers were enough payment for today. After a tense moment, a grin split his face and he laughed, revealing a mouth full of stereotypically nasty teeth. Seriously, did bad hygiene come as a part of the bad guy starter kit or was it a prerequisite? He clapped me on the shoulder roughly.

“A pleasure doin’ business with ya,” he said, still laughing. “No need to look so glum. We’re business partners, now that you know the rules.” His smile went stiff and there was a glint of danger in his eyes. “You wouldn’t want to end as good thing as our partnership so soon, eh?” Tension rippled through the courtyard, like a palpable wave centered on the two of us. Hands reached for knives, swords, sticks and anything else on belts and in jacket pockets.

I forced a smile. “Thanks, partner. I look forward to working with you in the future.” I tried keeping my voice jovial. I’m pretty sure I failed miserably, but T the Tank pretended not to notice.

“Good man,” he said before turning around with a flair of his coat and striding off. About a dozen lowlives followed after him, scurrying to catch up.

I breathed out a long, frustrated breath as Pyro and Thwain approached me.

“Remind me again why we can’t just take him out,” I asked.

“We aren’t ready,” Thwain said. “When we are, we move. Until then, we’re his punching bag. He’s got too many friends in high places. We knew this was going to happen when we started going in regularly. Let’s just hope he doesn’t make things more complicated.”

“Let’s gear up,” Pyro said excitedly. “They know we’re making money, it’s time to spend.”

“Spend what?” Thwain asked as we made our way through the Slums. “We’ve barely got enough money for food.”

“We have enough for a knife. We’ll make more money tomorrow, that’ll pay for more food,” Pyro said.

With purchasing a knife as our goal, we walked nonchalantly over to Market Alley. It was, unlike the name suggested, not an alley. It was barely a market. Stalls were set up haphazardly, lining multiple streets across a few blocks. The stalls on the fringes were decrepit, manned by desperate people trying to peddle nothings for scraps. Some couldn’t even manage to scrape together stalls and were just standing off to the side, trying to entice people into buying their wares. Naturally, we ignored them, angling towards a few shops that specialized in metal working. Pyro wove us through the crowd, obviously familiar with the market and his destination. A few of the sketchier-looking people eyed us up, but nobody tried anything. It was an unwritten rule that the market was off-limits to any kind of overt crime. You could rip someone off, of course, but not rob or steal from them. Anyone caught with their hand in someone’s purse would be permanently banned from the best market in the Eastern Slums.

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Pyro found the stall he was looking for and browsed the knives on display. The stall owners weren’t necessarily fully fledged blacksmiths, but they had copper knives and sharpened iron scraps that would do the job well enough. Eventually, Pyro found what he was looking for. After haggling with the gruff woman behind the counter, Thwain forked over three copper coins and she handed Pyro the knife. Really, it was barely passable as a knife. It was a foot of iron pipe that had been ground to a point on one end and sharpened to have an edge. It wasn’t pretty by any means, but it would certainly pierce both flesh and slimes.

Just about when we were turning to leave, Pyro had an idea. He ushered us over to another stall, deeper into the market. He picked out a few stones and negotiated the price down to four coppers. Thwain handed him the money, rubbing his temples to ward off a headache. Lastly, he brought us to a supplies stall where he bought us some food and a few supplies for the next few days.

Thwain was almost stomping his feet as we went back to the lake, taking our usual precautions. We had a total of three copper coins left. I had two and Thwain had the third.

“Pyro, so help me, if this doesn’t turn out to be profitable,” Thwain grumbled.

“It’s all in the plan, dude!” Pyro said.

“The plan for what? To bankrupt us?”

“No, no,” Pyro said. “Watch.” He went to a nearby tree and placed his hand on the ground. With an effort of will, he raised a pillar of dirt a few feet tall. Then, he climbed up the pillar, jumped and grabbed hold of a tree branch. He heaved a few times until the branch broke, sending him tumbling to the ground with his prize. Then, he used his newly purchased knife to sharpen the end of the branch and to cut away the smaller branches.

“Tadaaaa,” he said, holding up the spear.

“Congrats. You made a stick,” Thwain deadpanned.

“It’s not a stick. It’s a spear. And we can harden it in fire and use it against slimes.” He swung it around a bit and stabbed it forwards a few times.

“And the rocks?” Thwain asked.

At that, Pyro looked a little sheepish. “Ok, that’s a bit more of a gamble.” At the look in Thwain’s eyes, he hurried to explain. “You know I can absorb earth. Rocks and shit. Well, these are supposedly from higher floors, which means more mana or better… Structure,” he finished lamely.

“So, you think you’ll get something from absorbing them that you wouldn’t get on this floor?” Thwain’s anger deflated slightly at Pyro’s nod. “Fine,” he said. “Just… Make sure it’s worth it.”

The Gunner strode off into the woods, circling back to make sure we hadn’t been followed. Pyro sat, arraying the rocks around him and concentrating on each in turn. As he did so, I finally opened my Bestiary to check my progress.

[https://i.imgur.com/qtfNhpE.png]

Bestiary entry: Green slime selected.

Soul strength: 121.2%. Collect more essence to increase soul strength.

I grinned wickedly as I saw that my slime’s soul strength was over a hundred percent. I wasn’t sure what would happen once it reached 100, so it was nice to know that it kept rising, albeit at a reduced rate. I reached into my Bestiary and summoned my slime companion. As manifested in the world, I drew in a surprised breath. It was gargantuan when compared to the last time I summoned it. The lime green slime was easily the size of the slimes on Floor 1, if not bigger. It was also slightly darker than I remembered it being. It just sat there, looking at me with its goofy eyes.

I decided to test its new capabilities. I threw pieces of dirt, wood and other miscellaneous items at the monster as it bounded around to intercept them. It could easily clear the five feet of Pyro’s pillars and could dissolve anything I threw at it within a few minutes.

After two hours or so of testing, I was brought out of my fugue by the sound of a gunshot in the distance.