Chapter 21: An Odor of Magnitude

TRISTAN

The next three days of traveling were a boring slog for Tristan. They only stopped for dinner, and only late at night. The rest of the time was filled with silence, as no one in the carriage deemed him fit for conversation.

In between naps Tristan stared out the window, and he saw the countryside roll by. Small towns, fields full of crops, a flock of gryphons drinking at a pond where a spout of water continued into the air endlessly, some upside-down gardens, and even a large fortification (at which he was told they were specifically not allowed to stop) all amounted to mere blips along the side of the road. Things he’d only see in between blinks while the huge leopard-like astral pulled them toward their destination.

Will I know when we entered the domain of the Embrace? He’d never been in the domain of a god. The only domain that he remembered ever visiting was Azura’s, and that had definitely not been on purpose. Hadn’t the world felt a little different there? Like the touch of the air on his skin had tickled slightly. She was only tier 3, he reminded himself. What must a god’s domain feel like?

Well, sooner or later, he was going to find out.

At about midday, Tristan noticed something horrifying through the windows of the carriage. A town that looked to have been the size of Woodsedge was now a blackened, charred ruin. That wasn’t what bothered Tristan most, though. No, he noticed that sections of the ground seemed to move. He wasn’t sure what he was seeing at first, until a hazy glob stretched up and engulfed a wooden doorway.

Then he knew.

Tristan barely whispered the words for fear of what they meant, “That’s a lot of oozes,” yet somehow they caught the attention of the others in the carriage.

Aaric was the first to respond. “Oozes? Are you sure they’re oozes and not slimes? They look rather similar. I wouldn’t put it past you to--"

“They’re oozes,” Tristan confirmed, trying not to be too offended. “I fought a whole dungeon’s worth in early tier 1.”

“Wait, are you serious?” Aaric asked, his doubts clear on his face.

Tristan thought he even caught a pointed look from Aaric to the trainer, though nothing was said aloud between them. Tristan chose not to respond; he didn’t feel the need to defend his honesty to Aaric Longbloom of all people.

By this point, Aaric was also looking out the window. He began working his way to the front of the carriage, where he crowded into Trsitan’s seat and knocked on the back of the driver’s compartment, raising his voice. “Travit, stop the carriage!”

“Whassat now?” the dwarf driver muttered, sounding confused, even though Tristan did feel that they seemed to be slowing.

“Stop the carriage!” Aaric repeated, clearly disliking the need to do so. “We’re getting out here. These are an ideal type of mob for me to grind, and it’s been much too long since I’ve cast anything.”

The attendant sniffed loudly as he, too, looked out the window. “It seems highly improbable that the blacksmith, of all people, would have found oozes in an early tier 1 dungeon. They’re known to be mid-tier-1 threats at least. I’ve never heard of one under level 8.”

“Master Aaric is correct that they are the rarest variant of that dungeon,” the trainer stated, clearly bored.

Except Aaric hadn’t said anything like that aloud. It made Tristan wonder what else was being said in private chats that he couldn’t see.

Tristan chose to ignore that for now. “I definitely agree with that threat level. Oozes are awful. And that dungeon wasn’t easy. I had to tank the whole blessed place. And it reeked! Even with the gold loot box in the end, it barely felt worth it. I hate oozes.”

The way the trainer looked at Tristan, it felt like he was being assessed anew.

Aaric moved closer to the door and asked, “Wait, so you tanked the rare dungeon variant outside Woodsedge? Your ridiculous shield must have made that so easy.”

The statement hadn’t sounded sarcastic, so Tristan gave an honest reply. “I didn’t have my shield yet, though it would have made the run a lot smoother, for sure. There were only three of us in the dungeon, so the oozes didn’t have fully boosted health, but it still wasn’t fun. Oozes are awful. They’re like living piles of crap that try to spread themselves on you in order to eat you. And they’re not all slow, either. Though they are all disgusting. They’re slimier and nastier than I can possibly explain.”

The attendant chuckled to himself. “Typical ignorant nonsense.”

Aaric cracked his knuckles. “Well everything I read about oozes suggests they should be perfect opponents for me. Weakened by frost, susceptible to freezing, and relatively slow moving.”

“Not all of them,” Tristan warned.

Aaric brushed the concern away as the carriage pulled to a stop. “This will be a piece of cake,” he said, flinging the door open.

The instant he did, Tristan had a visceral reaction to the smell that immediately assaulted them. They all covered their noses.

“That is vile!” Aaric blurted out.

“What is that stench?” the attendant asked.

Tristan merely looked at the nearest building, which could have once been a small family house. It no longer had a roof or windows, and what walls remained had the color completely melted off. Black ash remained. Though as he watched it, it moved slightly. “The ones in the dungeon were an odor of magnitude worse,” he said.

Aaric was trying to fashion a face covering out of a spare shirt. “Isn’t it an order of magnitude?”

“No,” Tristan said, shuddering. “Not in this case. Not with oozes. The smell can--and likely will--get worse, as the oozes get stronger.” He covered his nose, trying to breathe as little as possible, as he reclined in his seat. “I guess you’ll get to find out soon enough. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

With his new face covering in place, Aaric stepped out of the carriage. Tristan was actually glad to hear the crunch of the gravel beneath his feet, as it meant the oozes weren’t all the way to the roadway. Not yet, he thought with dread.

“Ha’long we plannin’a stop, Massah Longbloom?”

Aaric immediately turned to the trainer and asked, likely loud enough for the driver to hear, “What did he say?”

The trainer’s face remained blank, though Tristan did notice that his eyes did not leave the sight of the ruined town. “He asked how long you were planning to stop here, sir.”

“As long as it takes, obviously.” Aaric’s eyes rolled so hard Tristan wondered if ‘bonus arrogance’ was a perk of his {Ice Prodigy} title. “If I can grind as efficiently here as I expect, then it would be foolish not to. Though the duration will depend entirely upon how quickly I can dispatch these oozes.”

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The man spoke like he had a mouth full of mush that had never been swallowed, and Tristan hardly understood a word of what he said. But he assumed it was along the lines of, “That’s not a proper answer, sir, but do as you like. I’m gonna get some sleep in the meanwhile.”

“Can you close the doors please?” Tristan asked, still seated in the carriage.

“Not with you still in there,” the attendant said. “Get out, swordsmith. And accept the Master’s invitation.”

There was a brief look of annoyance between Aaric and the attendant, in which it was clear from the attendant’s sheepish face that something had been said through party chat.

Then a huge invitation window popped up in Tristan’s interface.

You have been invited to a temporary party by Aaric Longbloom. Accept?

“You might as well,” the trainer said, perhaps sensing Tristan’s hesitance. “These oozes will provide you the same benefit as Master Longbloom, so working together should be to your mutual benefit.”

Finally convinced, Tristan slid out of his seat and to the ground. He stared at the invitation, and at each of his soon-to-be party members in turn. Aaric was already completely focused and planning his path of attack.

Tristan shook his head, clearing away his doubts. Fine, he thought, and immediately a new party display appeared at the side of his vision. Aaric was at the top, unsurprisingly the leader of the party, despite only being level 10. It showed that both his health and mana bars were full, but no other information was displayed. Beneath him was the trainer, who was actually labeled “Scout.” Is that an official title or just what Aaric calls him? Tristan stopped caring the moment he saw that the man was level 55. That put him in tier 4, just like Tristan’s father. A ridiculously impressive feat. He’s one of the strongest people in Woodsedge, yet he serves the Longblooms? Tristan didn’t fully understand, but that wasn’t really new to him. Beneath the Scout was Aaric’s attendant, whose name was apparently spelled Jacques, at level 22. No wonder I couldn’t [Identify] him, Tristan thought. He’s tier 3.

Tristan suspected he would show up in their displays the same way, and comparatively he wasn’t nearly as impressive. At least until they see what I can do.

“What are your classes?” he asked the two he didn’t know.

“I won’t be fighting,” the trainer--now Scout--replied.

“Consider me a healer,” Jacques said, somewhat cryptically.

Tristan shook his head slightly. “Right. So we’re just going to farm some of these oozes?”

“All of them,” Aaric corrected, already several steps away and beginning to cast something that was quickly revealed to be a [Frost Bolt] as the blue blast shot toward the nearest ooze. He used [Identify] on it, in part because he’d never gotten to see a monster’s output before.

[Sated Black Ooze, level 9]

And apparently it didn’t change much from the death notifications. Tristan was wary of the ooze’s adjective. He felt bad for whatever the ooze had devoured to be “sated.” He also immediately worried there were other, hungrier variants around. He watched curiously as Aaric’s spell struck the disgusting pile of evil. It did look like Aaric had been right: his spells quickly began to form a layer of frost over the ooze, slowing it to a crawl. Tristan took that as his cue to move in.

He drew the massive sword from his back and was surprised to find that he didn’t feel nearly as threatened by this ooze as he expected. This was a level 10 ooze, more than double the level of the strongest ooze he’d faced in the dungeon. But he had grown a lot since that dungeon, too. He might not have been testing himself in battles outside of the one trip to the training grounds, but with each swing of his new greatsword, Tristan could feel that he had grown stronger.

They quickly found that each [Frost Bolt] that hit an ooze made its reactions slow to a crawl. After only two bolts, Tristan could easily slide around it into a flanking position and smash them to devastating effect.

Over the next half hour or so, Tristan and Aaric found a comfortable rhythm. They began working their way down what remained of the former town’s main street, with Aaric pulling one ooze at a time, and Tristan charging in with his greatsword to end it just as the second [Frost Bolt] struck. Jacques would occasionally toss out shields, on the rare occasion that either seemed to be about to take damage. He actually tended to give them to Tristan even when he wasn’t in much danger. Tristan blamed it on the elf’s lack of confidence in him.

The deeper they went into the ruined town, the higher the oozes’ levels seemed to grow. They’d quickly learned that Aaric’s ice magic was great at controlling oozes, but he simply couldn’t push enough damage to kill any over level 12 on his own without achieving a “full freeze combo,” as he liked to call it. By level 13, their health regeneration was too great even for that; he needed Tristan to finish them every time.

As the sun reached its midday pinnacle, Tristan was growing both tired and frustrated. His boots and legs were covered in layers of drying, reeking sludge. He knew he smelled, but he’d started not noticing it a while back. A truly terrifying thought, and not something he wanted to get used to. There was something to be said for destroying scores of the worst monster in the realm. That part was good, even if it wasn’t fun.

His frustrations mostly came from his so-called party leader, who was growing more impatient with each fight. As the oozes continued to grow higher and higher in level, they took more casts of [Frost Bolt] to slow and more swings of Tristan’s sword to kill. But Aaric clearly wasn’t pleased with the slowing of their pace. Twice in a row he pulled the next ooze before Tristan had finished the one they’d been working on.

Luckily, Tristan’s sword was proving that his crafting skills were as excellent as he’d thought. Even after all these battles against corrosive oozes, the patterned blade was still as sharp and clean as the moment it left the forge.

“Aaric,” Tristan huffed as he finished yet another ooze, “we need to take a break.”

A handful of feet behind them, Jacques was handing another mana potion to the ice mage.

“Nonsense,” Aaric said. “Our pace has slowed, but it’s still within the acceptable parameters. It’s worth grinding a little longer. I feel like I’m close to leveling up, don’t you?”

Tristan sighed as he scrolled back through the seemingly-endless messages he’d muted long ago.

You have slain [Hungry Black Ooze, level 13]

Reduced experience gained due to no full combat Class.

You have slain [Hungry Black Ooze, level 12]

Reduced experience gained due to no full combat Class.

You have slain [Hungry Black Ooze, level 14]

Reduced experience gained due to no full combat Class.

Rows and rows of notifications all said the same thing. And apparently the oozes are “hungry” now. That was concerning.

If it hadn’t been so productive--and cathartic--Tristan might have been upset. The overall experience gains had been good, even reduced as they were, though he still wasn’t that close to level 11 yet. Apparently the lack of a full combat Class had burned through the advantage he’d gotten from the Fred quest. Now Aaric was catching up, possibly passing him.

We’ll fix that when I get to Jamal, Tristan resolved.

The man called Scout spoke up. “His growth is appreciable, but slower than yours, sir. Regardless, his advice is worth considering.” He lifted a hand, as if reminding Aaric in which direction the carriage lay.

Tristan couldn’t help but notice that the Scout’s feet continued to pivot, as if the man was taking a wider survey of their surroundings. Combined with his suggestion to Aaric, that felt suddenly ominous.

“In another half hour,” Aaric said, already beginning to cast another [Frost Bolt]. “We will return to the carriage when I’m ready. I want to level up first, and these oozes are too perfect an opportunity. Look, this one’s stronger. Maybe it’ll push me over.”

The Scout’s reply was clipped, and Tristan thought he heard the slightest hint of smugness in his words. “As you wish, sir.”

Tristan followed the ice mage’s eyes and could practically trace the path his [Frost Bolt] was going to take. He was aiming at a much bigger ooze than they’d been fighting. One that was also farther away than they’d been pulling, too. Tristan used [Identify] and did not like what he saw.

[Ravenous Black Ooze, level 15]

{{Black Ooze Progenitor}}

It’s got a blessed title?! Tristan’s eyes widened as he recognized the implications. He shouted, “Aaric, that ooze is a gods-damned boss!”

But his warning came too late. A cool blue [Frost Bolt] was streaking away from Aaric’s outstretched hand, which was already starting to glow blue again.

The whole town around them seemed to come alive.

At the moment of impact, Tristan heard the sickening slurps of three bigger oozes slinking out of the burned buildings around them, larger than the others that followed.

Tristan’s eyes widened with actual fear. If we don’t move now, we’re going to get boxed in. “Fall back!” he shouted.

But none of the other three members of his party listened.

“Excellent,” he heard Aaric say, “I’ll level from this for sure.”