Ogre Tyrant

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 29 – Space and Time – Part One

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 29 - Space and Time - Part One

My brief exchange with Harut had changed my perspective on matters somewhat. While I had intended to resolve all the issues on the fourth floor before moving on to the fifth, I now realised a glaring flaw in my plan. The Settlements I leave behind would be isolated and vulnerable.

How would Stone Well defend itself against an assault by a dedicated enemy? It was far too isolated and lacked enough defenders to put up a fight long enough for reinforcements to make the long trek to the third-floor portal. Furthermore, unlike the second floor, which had plentiful resources, convincing the Asarusian government to establish their own settlement on this floor was incredibly unrealistic. I would need to be able to guarantee a number of vital resources to make it worth their while, most notably water.

So that got me thinking about portals, specifically, making our own. Technically, as a Nexus Binder, Ril could already open temporary portals herself, as well as teleport just about anywhere she has already been before. But so far, Ril’s modest set of Abilities did not include anything permanent.

Still, it was worth talking to her about it. Like the other Daemons, Ril might just be waiting for permission before attempting it.

Both Chief Uday and Chief Izsa had gathered their people to the village centre and were explaining what changes the Settlement meant for their respective peoples moving forward. Taking particular care to mention that Stone Well now effectively had a much more powerful and incredibly permanent Ward that would maintain itself without the maintenance of dedicated Shamans. Furthermore, once sufficiently literate, the Settlement’s Totem would provide individual prompts to help each member of the greater Clan learn one of the many Basic and Advanced Classes known throughout the alliance.

Not that I wanted to force anyone, but I made it known to Izsa that having at least one Pact Binder per tribe would be a very smart idea. After I explained what the Advanced Class did, she was of very much of the same mind and promised to personally scout the undecided villagers for potential interest.

To no one's particular surprise, there were close to twenty people who wanted to become Shamans. Even if their Wards would not be of much use in the village, they still had other useful Abilities against Summoners and Spirits. With Mors on hand, and the manaflower seeds brought over from Sanctuary, unlocking the Shaman Class would actually be one of the most simple and straightforward options. Similarly, it would follow the same process for anyone wanting to unlock the Summoner and Pact Binder as well, so I told Mors to hold off for at least a day or two in order to give Izsa time to find volunteers.

The hunters had been spending just about the entire morning retrieving Stalker corpses while most of the warriors were diligently digging fresh reclamation pits. A rough estimate held the number of Sand Stalkers at only around a hundred at most. When I heard that reported estimate, I found I had to agree with the Labyrinth’s decision, there had been far too few enemies to represent a decent challenge.

The absence of razorbeaks also made it pretty clear that we had been lucky to find them at all. They had most likely migrated southward over time, or without the safety of numbers, it was entirely possible that they were being spawn killed by the giant spiders. In either case, it only served to make them more valuable.

Somewhat greedily, I commandeered thirty Stalker manastones and fed them one by one to the boar I had elected to serve as my personal mount in the future. The evolution process drew a decent crowd from the mounted warriors and hunters, which was good since it was a nice learning experience for them in investing in force multipliers.

Since the boar wasn’t a variant, it had no intermediary evolutions to go through. This meant that it would have fewer stats and be unable to evolve again, but would also have a new variation on its Abilities according to the chosen evolution.

[Razortusk Boar: +1 Strength, +1 Toughness, +1 Willpower. (Common)]

[(Racial Ability: Vicious): Deals additional damage to fallen enemies and those with {Negative Status Conditions}. {Willpower} increases the amount of bonus damage.]

[(Racial Ability: Primal Ferocity): Remains conscious while reduced to {Negative HP}. Gains the {Enraged} Condition, dealing additional damage when reduced to {Negative HP}. {Willpower} increases the amount of bonus damage ]

[Confirm Evolution: {Razortusk Boar} (Accept/decline}]

[Hulking Boar: +2 Strength, +3 Toughness, -2 Agility. (Common)]

[(Racial Ability: Primal Ferocity): Remains conscious while reduced to {Negative HP}. Gains the {Enraged} Condition, dealing additional damage when reduced to {Negative HP}. {Willpower} increases the amount of bonus damage ]

[(Racial Ability: Ironside): Takes less damage from {Piercing} and {Ranged} attacks. {Toughness} increases the level of damage resistance.]

[Confirm Evolution: {Hulking Boar} (Accept/decline}]

Comparing both evolutions, and confident I could just pick another boar and start over if necessary, i decided to choose the Hulking Boar evolution. Razortusk sounded cool, but we already had a relatively high ranked Vicious from Toofy. Loosening the collar to its widest setting, just in case, I confirmed the evolution and shielded my eyes.

In the span of a couple of seconds, the boar had close to doubled in size, its hunched back now roughly the same height as my shoulders. Despite still being covered in bristly fur, the boar’s muscles seemed ridiculously well pronounced. It was like someone had taken the broken genes from the Belgian Blue cow and spliced them into the boar. After leading it around by the tusk for a couple of minutes, It was easy to see why its Agility had taken such a heavy hit. The boar was just too big to coordinate sudden turns. While it didn’t fall over, the boar would slow way down before attempting anything greater than a thirty-degree angle turn.

As much as I wanted to test ride it, I couldn’t. The weavers hadn’t expected such a radical increase in size, so the toggled straps weren’t even remotely close to fitting properly and had to be altered.

Stepping back from aptly named Hulking Boar, It seemed to me that it should be capable of pulling one of the wagons all on its own without any real trouble. In fact, its poor turning pretty much locked it into such a role. Well, that or a heavy cavalry charge…

Wanting to have a conversation with Ril about the viability of portals anyway, I went looking for her. Unsurprisingly, she was still dozing in the cast iron cauldron and Toofy was doodling on a fresh section of wall. To her credit, Toofy’s drawings were getting much better with practice.

After describing to Ril what I wanted, she seemed far more confident than I would have expected, simply replying, “Kay,” before lounging back into her cauldron again. Recognising Ril had entered one of her meditative states, rather than just sleeping, I just had to assume she knew what she was doing.

Seeing off the hunters who were setting out late, I made a point of formalising the ownership of certain mounts to hunters that had proven themselves during the protracted fighting during the night. I had authorised Osa to do the same for anyone he felt particularly deserved recognition. Most of the remaining mounts were given to the weavers in recognition of their work in making the saddles but were on loan to the hunters and warriors in the meantime.

There would be more opportunities for capturing new mounts, but the demonstration of wealth to the remaining nomad tribes would go a long way towards securing their interest and participation in the alliance. Gaining access to Classes and a position of assured safety would go a long way to doing the rest.

With more hands at the task, it would only be a matter of time before Stone Well becomes a veritable oasis amidst the otherwise barren landscape. But that only made establishing a direct route for reinforcements all the more important. The more Stone Well recovered, the more appealing a target it would become. Attacks wouldn’t be limited to the Slavers either. I did not doubt that Mercenaries of different merchant enterprises would attempt to use force to secure favourable trade deals, or outright commit outright theft if they could manage it.

That was one of the reasons for my visiting Osa. Stone Well needed to be fortified as much as was possible. Having given him that overarching objective, the best I could think of was digging a deep moat around the village and making outward spiralling tunnels for the spiders to make their dens in. Assuming the moat was dug deep and wide enough, it would strongly discourage anyone from attempting to cross it. Anyone ‘clever’ enough to rappel down and attempt climbing the other opposite side would be easy pickings for the spiders.

With little else to do, I volunteered for moat digging duty. As an afterthought, I brought the Hulking Boar with me. At worst, I figured I could use it to haul away the extra dirt with one of the wagons.

Using a mattock I hacked out a decent sized outline for a section of the moat and then got to work.

To my immense surprise, while the giant boar didn’t seem able to dig all that well, it proved an adept shoveler with its wide snout. By digging its face into the earth I was loosening with the mattock, the Hulking Boar would then jerk its head up and to the side, flinging the dirt clear of the area. While amusing to watch, I had to be careful to get too close to its tusks for fear of being gored.

Working in the evening and morning probably would have been smarter, but I was trying to make the best use of my time, not make myself comfortable.

Osa had organised several work details that came and went throughout the day, taking shifts to help loosen the dry-packed dirt and remove the larger stones from the worksite. By the late evening, we had managed to reach half the depth and the full width I wanted, but excluding the work ramp, it was only about fifty feet long. Considering the number of rocks and how densely packed the ground was, it wasn't a bad effort. All the same, it still felt disappointing.

Waking up early, I set to digging again, and the same the next day.

I hadn’t spoken with Nadine and Clarice since successfully claiming the Settlement. I had seen Kestrel shadowing me though, and could only assume they had asked her to keep an eye on me. Besides feeling more restless than usual, I didn’t think their concern was warranted.

Or, that was what I thought until I checked the necklace Lash had given me. “Fifty days?” I muttered aloud and began doing some quick math in my head. Try as I might, there was still a disconcertingly large segment of time unaccounted for. Having just started working for the day, I set down the mattock and approached the watchtower Kestrel had been using to keep an eye on me. Climbing the wall, I sat down on the outer ramparts and waited.

As I expected, Kestrel made her way down from the watchtower shortly afterwards and sat down a short distance away.in the shade. “You stopped digging,” Kestrel commented, the inflection in her voice suggesting she was both surprised and a little relieved.

“How long?” I asked quietly. Staring down at my hands, I could see they were shaking but couldn’t make them stop.

“Since you last ate something?” Kestrel asked with a mildly exasperated tone, “Maybe three days?” She replied uncertainly, “Since you last slept?” Kestrel now sounded very worried, “About five…” She took a moment to look at my necklace and nodded, “Five days,” she confirmed, the dark rings under her eyes making it clear that she had likely been awake most of that time in order to keep an eye on me.

“I don’t feel tired,” I commented, clenching and unclenching my hands to try and stop them from shaking.

Kestrel looked surprised, “You’re joking?” She insisted.

I shook my head, “Besides losing track of time, I feel fine,” I replied defensively.

Kestrel made a point of looking down at my hands before meeting my eyes again, the expression on her face was like ‘really?’

“They’ll stop on their own,” I insisted dismissively, “I just need to...to…”

“Sleep?” Kestrel suggested worriedly.

I grunted noncommittally and got to my feet. With the choice between returning to work on the moat, which was showing real signs of progress, or going to bed, which honestly seemed like a waste of time. I chose a compromise instead and headed home to see if Ril had come up with a solution or at least made progress on the whole portal problem.

To my immense surprise, she had.

Ril was outside of her cauldron and wearing a damp towel like a robe. Two very small arches had been put together from spider silk and flat stones. One arch was plastered onto the side of the stairs, and the other on the wall opposite.

Running between them with a manic grin on her face, and a small skillet on her head, was Toofy.

Wincing as Toofy ran headlong into the wall, I was stunned when the only sound I heard was Toofy’s laughter coming from the other side of the room.

“Again!” Toofy squealed in delight as she sprinted at the opposite wall.

This process repeated three more times before Toofy seemed to tire out and acknowledge my presence, “Tim!” She tiredly scrambled across the room and grabbed my hand, dragging me towards the archway under the stairs, “Come! Portals fun!” Toofy insisted, disappearing as she made contact with the stone contained within the archway. ‘Tim try!” Toofy called out supportively from the other side of the room.

Standing this close to the ‘portal’ I could see dozens of divots in the brickwork, and glancing back at Toofy’s improvised helmet, there were noticeable signs of it having recently impacted stone.

Experimentally pressing my hand against the chipped brickwork, I suddenly felt lightheaded and immensely tired.

“-mana exhaustion,” Nadine whispered, “Why isn’t it recovering above that level?”

“Don’t ask me!” Clarice sniped back, “Nearly lost my fingers putting those manastones in his mouth!”

“It’s the spear,” Ril interjected quietly, her speaking voice somehow quieter than Nadine's whispering.

“But it’s in the other room-” Nadine sounded confused.

“Fuck!” Clarice cursed.

“What is it?” Nadine demanded.

There were the muffled sounds of someone leaving and then coming back, “Did you ever read the description on this thing?” Clarice asked nervously.

“Uh-” Nadine didn’t get the chance to answer and was interrupted.

“Mana reservation,” Ril answered in a level tone.

“That’s why his mana shows as zero?” Nadine asked worriedly.

There was the sound of rustling fabric, “Not zero, close, but not zero,” Ril corrected.

“Right, doesn’t show fractional progress…” Nadine murmured in agreement, sounding somewhat relieved. “So how do we get his reserved mana back? Do we just need to take it further away? Or?...”

“Won’t work,” Clarice grunted, “He has to ‘give’ it to you. It’s how powerful artefacts work. You either kill the owner or have them pass it on voluntarily.”

“Then how did it get here?” Nadine demanded, “I was certain he left it in Sanctuary.”

“He did,” Clarice confirmed, “But we are his minions. When he gives us things, it isn’t the same as giving it away forever. It’s like a loan, and that spear has an ability that specifically returns when he calls it.”

“Great…” Nadine grunted in frustration, “So how do we convince him to hand it off to someone else in his coma?”

“Not sleeping,” Ril interjected, “Resting, listening,” I felt a smooth, damp scaly hand press against my forehead momentarily.

“So Tim can hear us?” Nadine asked with a mounting sense of relief.

“Yes,” Ril replied, “Can’t speak, can’t move, but can hear us.”

“Hey!” Clarice demanded, shoving me for good measure, “Handoff the damn spear already Tim! You're upsetting Nadine!”

“Hey, you're the one wh-OW!” Nadine yelped in pain, “Damnit Clarice! That hurt!”

Already feeling exhausted just trying to follow the conversation, I tried to visualise Shiverfang in my mind.

*Clang*

“Bloody hell!” Nadine cursed.

“Told you,” Clarice snickered.

“Figures you would pay attention if it had something to do with weapons,” Nadine grumbled defensively.

Trying to shift the bonded link, I wasn’t sure who exactly I was tethering  it to, struggling to maintain my current level of awareness as it was.

“Careful!” Clarice warned anxiously, “Don’t touch the blade! It will take your damn fingers off!”

There was a muffled reply and then nothing, only silence.

Feeling a chill wind pass over my skin, I opened my eyes and found I was outside. Only, I didn’t recognise my surroundings.

I was standing on a crested dune in a sea of sand beneath a bright crescent moon so large that I felt I could almost reach out and touch it if I really tried. Looking around the silvery landscape, I was not surprised to find I was alone. After all, this was a dream.

The absence of otherwise omnipresent irritants and minor pains was a bit of a dead giveaway.

It was easily one of the most lucid dreams I have ever had, but thus far it seemed rather devoid of meaning or purpose. It was just, empty.

“Only if you want it to be,” Ril had appeared by my side, still wrapped in the damp towel as she stared up at me with her pitch-black eyes.

“Where are we?” I asked, understanding that the place I was dreaming of was a reflection of somewhere real.

Ril shrugged, “I am just visiting. How would I know?” She replied and took a deep breath of the cold air, “Mmm, water…” Ril murmured and began walking away.

Breathing deeply, I smelled it too, the saltwater of the ocean. I knew where we were.

In less than six steps, the entire landscape changed. Dunes rolled away revealing a rocky beach and rolling silvery waves.

Ril was already waiting for me, staring at her reflection in a tidepool.

“This will be our special place…” A barely audible voice whispered, manifested from a half-forgotten memory.

My eyes were drawn to the rocky shelf just on the edge of the dunes and I slowly walked over for a closer look.

‘Our place’ was crudely scratched into the stone, and was so badly worn that it was almost gone entirely.

Sitting down on the large flat rock, I numbly watched Ril continue poking about in the tide pool. “Why am I dreaming this?” My voice sounded tired.

Seeming to find what she was looking for, Ril walked over and sat down next to me. Opening her hand, she held it out to me expectantly. A painfully ordinary shell was laid out on her palm, “For when you want to come back,” Ril explained as she pushed it into my hand.

Accepting the shell, my eyes drifted to the waves again, and I quickly became lost in the soft crash of the surf on the sand and rocks. I barely noticed when Ril leaned onto my arm.

Blinking my eyes, I found I was sitting against the wall inside our borrowed house on the fourth floor of the Labyrinth. I saw no sign of Ril, but opening my right hand I found the shell she had given me in the dream. Retrieving a length of hide cord from my pack, I bound the shell securely and made it into a necklace which I then tied around my neck alongside the other necklace given to me by Lash.

Someone had adjusted the beads and I could see that I had been asleep for another two days, leaving only forty-eight days at most until I would return to Sanctuary.

Looking for Ril and Toofy, I couldn’t find them anywhere in the house.

<Overlord! You are awake?> Recognising Mors’s presence and that he was somewhat distracted, I tethered our connection on my end to make sure we wouldn’t be interrupted.

<I am. Where are Ril and Toofy?> I asked bluntly.

There was a telling pause. <They have returned to Sanctuary to direct construction of the portal, as you requested…>

Severing the connection, I walked outside and made my way towards the centre of the village. The olive tree was now joined by two others, their roots and branches entwining a large stone archway approximately fifteen feet wide and roughly just as tall at the highest point. Each stone of the archway had a manastone held tight on the inner side of the arch by the thick gnarled branches and roots. Furthermore, the entire archway as well as the lower trunk and roots of the trees were covered in the special manaflowers.

Just looking at the archway, I could feel the concentrated mana coming off of it. However, considering how few manastones were involved, I doubted it would be capable of activating independently.

Turning my attention to the village centre at large, I was a little surprised to see that Mors appeared to be teaching a class of around thirty people of varying ages. Each person had two pots in front of them. The first seemed to be taking the place of an incense burner and was kept shut the majority of the time. Every so often, a student would remove the lid, inhale deeply and then replace the lid again, confirming my assumption. The purpose of the second pot was even more obvious. Filled with loose moist soil, each of these pots had a small number of small green shoots that would sporadically experience accelerated growth.

Just by judging the ambient mana at play, I could see Mors’s influence on each of the plants. But what was more surprising was that some students seemed capable of keeping the growth going for very short periods of time after Mors’s influence was removed. Considering the inherent difficulty of manipulating mana inside of external sources, and the students limited ability to see said mana, I was very impressed with Mors’s teaching method. All the more so since it seemed like a quarter of his students were already Apprentice Druids.

For the apprentices, the Plant Sense Ability would improve as they levelled up and it increased in Rank. But it was also important to practice their sensitivity and control while they were comparatively weak in order to assure they could control their power properly later.

Checking in on Hessin, I very nearly had a coughing fit. Teaching a much larger scale class than Mors, Hessin had covered all the doors and windows with sheets and had been hotboxing incense to such an extreme degree that it made my head hurt from all the mana aura’s suddenly brought into painful focus.

To my immense surprise, Wraithe was present and keeping a watchful eye on proceedings, or a summoned copy of her was. It had taken me a moment to reconcile the difference in the different intensity of her mana. Making sure to give the rat-like Daemon a thumbs up, not wanting to breathe in any more incense, I ducked out of the house.

Checking the village records, I could see that in addition to a number of Apprentice Shamans, there  were also four Summoners and a Pact Binder. Although I had not seen her through the smoke, it was Izsa’s daughter who had unlocked the Pact Binder Advanced Class and likely made the summoning that brought Wraithe.

Reminded that Izsa would likely be gunning for a promotion, I was surprised to find that she had already unlocked the Warlock Advanced Class. That made her the first Warlock in the entire alliance, which piqued my curiosity.

[(Class Ability: Daemonic Pact): Expend MP to attempt forge a {Pact} with a Daemon. Gain extreme resistance to hostile {Telepathy}. {Borrow} or {Loan} MP in accordance to the {Pact}. {Angels} and their {Celestial Champions} become hostile and will attempt to kill the Warlock on sight.]

[(Class Ability: Daemonic Boon 0): {Daemonic Pact} generates a permanent {Boon} in accordance with the established {Daemonic Pact}. {Restored Youth} maintains the {Warlock’s} peak physical condition and reduces the negative effects of ageing.]

[(Class Ability: Daemonic Manifestation 0): Expend MP to take on {Daemonic} Characteristics. Reserve MP to gain {Daemonic Vigour}.]

Reading through the starting Class Abilities, I was actually a little disappointed. Having spent a great deal of time around Daemons, I had shed the majority of my initial prejudices, but I still expected something a bit more nefarious from a Class named Warlock. Near as I could tell, it was literally just an exchange of services. Already very much aware that the Daemons used MP gained through the Pact Binder summons to fuel their own growth, I couldn’t see this arrangement as anything other than symbiotic in nature. By the looks of it, Izsa’s vanity was ensuring the Daemon she made the Pact with was probably getting a slightly better deal, but that was on her, not the Daemon.

Having thought about it some more, I was curious which Daemon she had made the Pact with. I was well aware that Gric’s Daemon Overseer Class gave him final say over Summonings of the Daemons, and while I hadn’t asked, it would be safe to assume he regulated potential Pacts too. Fudging the rules of the quest system a little, I issued Gric with a quest to provide me with the answer.

Within a few minutes, Mors established telepathic contact. <Overlord, I have the information you requested. Chief Izsa made her Pact with Senn> He provided a mental image along with the name to provide better context.

Senn was one of the female one-horned Daemons. Taking heavy influences from the reptiles in the swamp, Senn was covered in emerald scales, four lithe arms and a long serpentine tail accented with hidden barbs. Judging by the snake-like facial features, I wondered if Senn had been chosen by Gric because of appearance rather than her competence or abilities to fulfil the role.

<What is your impression of Senn?> I asked candidly.

<...> Mors hesitated. <Senn is not as motivated as Overseer Gric would like…> He admitted with embarrassment.

<So this Pact is an attempt to make her take more responsibility?> I asked, trying to keep my amusement to myself. Being useful was a pretty big deal to the Daemons. To have a hatch-mate discovered to be striving for anything less was probably mortifying. 

<I believe so…> Mors replied morosely.

<You disapprove?> I commented.

There was a very, very, long and telling pause. <No…>

<It backfired, didn't it?” I wasn’t entirely surprised. Gric had basically given Senn a blank cheque.

<She hasn’t gone hunting since they forged the Pact…> Mors admitted with embarrassment. <It is making some of the other ‘unproductives’ to begin asking for Pacts too.> His shame was almost palpable.

<Then we need to set better examples on the benefits of hard work and diligence.> I replied and quickly checked available promotions. Seeing we had unlocked a Lord title that was currently empty, I sent Gric a quest to promote Qreet and further instructions to promote Mors when the humans provided us another Underlord promotion.

Somewhat privy to what I was doing because of the mind link still being active, Mors seemed incredibly shocked and excited. <Promotion?!>

It wasn’t entirely for merit, but if I was going to use the same strategy of fortifying locations using the Druids, it would be better if they could help handle administrative and combat-related duties as well. Making sure they had the authority to make those jobs happen was important. Also, I was curious whether Qreet and Mors could unlock a sort of Leadership Druid Class. If they could, that would be a great step forwards for the alliance.

<I won’t let you down Overlord!> Mors gushed, the impression through the link suggesting he was crying tears of joy.

Severing the connection, I visited Chief Uday’s previous dwelling, which was now serving as the village’s hospital, or at least until a suitable building could be built. As I expected, Nadine was teaching and quizzing the latest Surgeon recruits.

Deciding to help Nadine out, I sat in on her classes and provided what additional insights I could. There wasn’t all that much for me to do though, Nadine was a gifted teacher. She had managed to take my ‘by rote’ regurgitated information and turned it into easily digestible segmented lessons. There were still some areas Nadine was less confident in, but on the whole, I had no doubts that any of my nursing professors would have loved to have her as their teaching assistant.

The Mountain Orc Slavers had provided a convenient source for intact skeleton teaching aids. While there were some obvious differences in height and build, the visual references definitely had a positive impact on the retention of otherwise abstract information. Mors had stripped them of all flesh and tendons, but had also replaced them with minimally invasive roots. While not as maneuverable as a wired skeleton, it was probably the best we could expect under the circumstances. Nadine was a little uncomfortable handling the bones at first, but grew used to it over time.

Nadine’s classes ended in the early evening and she made sure to catch me for a chat before leaving for dinner.

“What did you think?” Nadine asked anxiously.

“I think you did very well,” I replied honestly, “You’re better at teaching than I am. Although you could be a bit less squeamish with the bones,” I admitted.

Nadine blushed a little and nodded, “It was my first time seeing them like that,” she admitted nervously, “I mean, without all the blood and meat on them, they look...weird.”

“There were other students in my classes that would react very differently,” I chuckled, “Handling replica’s of the human skeleton was considered pretty normal. What people really struggled with were assisting in autopsies and minor medical procedures requiring inflicting certain degrees of harm.”

“Autopsies?” Nadine asked, obviously unfamiliar with the word.

“It’s the name for when you investigate the body to determine a person's cause of death. Cutting them open in order to check their organs was pretty common practice,” I explained.

“Why?” Nadine asked curiously.

“Well, depending on the cause of death, organs can show signs of damage, discolouration or even displacement. An otherwise odourless poison might inflame the insides or cause internal hemorrhaging. There were thousands upon thousands of potential things to check for depending on the circumstances of the death,” I explained with a wry smile, “As advanced as our medical science was, there were always innovative and crazy people pushing the boundaries trying to get away with things. Without even the most routine autopsies, a lot of them would get away with it.”

“You don’t think we will have to do any, right?” Nadine really didn’t like the picture I was painting of Earth and wasn’t shy about it.

“Hopefully not,” I reassured her. Besides basic postmortem identifiers, I wouldn’t be able to provide much insight anyway. “Oh, Chief Izsa’s daughter unlocked the Pact Binder Class. She summoned Wraithe earlier in Hessin’s Shamanism class earlier, so you can probably have her summoned again if you want a teaching assistant or need to take a break,” I suggested.

Nadine had seemed on board right up until I suggested taking a break. “Really?” She asked exasperatedly, “You're giving me suggestions about taking a break?”

“Fair point,” I conceded.

Nadine still seemed annoyed, “You shouldn’t have fought that commander by your own Tim, that was incredibly stupid and reckless.”

“I disagree,” I insisted, “The reason the commander stalled the wider fight was only because we were going to fight one on one, and because he thought he had the advantage. I took a risk, sure, but it was a calculated one that paid off.”

Nadine looked like she was about to say something else, but stopped and looked down the street as Dhizi came slinking into view with Clarice beside her.

Seeing both of us had noticed her, Clarice smiled, waved and began jogging her way over. “Did you talk to Tim about the magic items?” She asked excitedly.

“Magic items?” I vaguely recalled Barut collapsing into dark sand and leaving his equipment behind. “How much of it was magical?”

“All of it,” Clarice grinned. “I mean, it’s all pretty basic stuff for the most part,” she conceded, “But hey, magic gear is way better than the standard stuff.” Clarice opened one of Dhizi’s saddlebags and pulled out Barut’s armoured kilt, “Yeah, that might be a bit short…” She admitted sheepishly, “Shame too, seems to have an impact dampening enchantment.” Clarice took the bracers and torque out for all of a second before putting them back, “Nooope.” Lastly, she removed the pair of sickle swords, “Maybe?” Clarice offered me one of the blades, “Try that out,” She suggested.

Accepting the blade, I gave it a few practice swings. It was balanced very differently to the western style swords I had tried training with back in Sanctuary. The problem was how light the sword felt in my hand, like it would go flying the moment my hand got slippery. “Not for me, too light,” I conceded reluctantly. Made of iron or steel rather than bronze like the bracers, torque and armoured components of the kilt, having a pair of quality blades would have been a real step up from my battered warhammer.

Clarice sighed and nodded, “Thought so,” she agreed, “They are too short to use from Dhizi’s saddle too, and Nadine can’t get used to the weird weight distribution”

“Is the whole kilt enchanted? Or just the armoured parts?” I asked curiously.

Clarice made as if to reply, closed her mouth and then pulled out the armoured kilt again, “Doesn’t say...” She muttered and began unclasping the armoured flap. “Oh! You're right! It’s the metal bits and beads with the enchantment,” Clarice confirmed happily, “Should work with whatever pants you attach‘em to.”

Accepting the armoured flap, I found it had a large brooch-like hoop and pin to attach and anchor it in place. With some finagling, I managed to work the pin through both my belt and the bronze loop. Taking a moment to see if I could feel anything different, all I really noticed was a faint pressure against my groin.

[Armoured Kilt: Provides targeted protection to the wearer’s groin. Attacks that specifically target the wearer’s groin are affected by minor deflection.]

Clarice sniggered as she rattled off the description from memory.

I wasn’t even mad. It was pretty funny, but also a very practical item to have. “What do the other items do?” I chuckled.

“Well, like I said, mostly standard stuff,” Clarice repeated with a grin, “The hoodless bronze coif just acts as armour,” She pulled out the torque and shook a bit with a shrug before putting it back, “The swords are enchanted to keep their edge, which is kinda cool, but also pretty standard so far as magic swords go. And the bracers attract arrows-”

“Wait,” I interrupted, “They do what?” I wasn't sure I had heard her right.

“They attract arrows, oh, well, all sorts of projectiles really, so long as it is as big or smaller than an arrow. That’s usually how it works,” Clarice shrugged noncommittally.

“Why would you want bracers that ATTRACT arrows?!” I demanded incredulously.

Clarice shared a sympathetic look with Nadine, making me feel incredibly stupid without knowing why.

“Because it’s much better to have an arrow flying for your arm rather than your face Tim,” Clarice explained exasperatedly, “Not everyone can take an arrow to the face and walk it off like you do. Besides, You obviously want to use a shield too!”

“Ah…” That made a great deal more sense.

“They are too big for Nadine and me, and by the looks of it, a bit too small for you. So what do you want to do with them?” Clarice asked.

“Can I take a closer look?” I asked and held out my hand expectantly.

Clarice shrugged and handed them over.

As she had guessed, my arms were a little too large to allow the clasps to close properly. But that did give me an idea. “I’ll hold onto them,” I confirmed, immediately piquing Nadine and Clarice’s curiosity. “I was thinking they would make a good gift for Lash,” I explained, trying my best not to sound like an awkward teenager.

“Aww, I bet she will love them!” Nadine agreed supportively.

“I’m beginning to regret turning you down,” Clarice sniggered.

Nadine laughed a little as well but not maliciously. “At least Tim is bringing her something nice,” she sighed wistfully.

“I keep telling you, if you want to date someone, the soldiers live right down the road now,” Clarice suggested with a grin.

Nadine pulled a sour face, “Ugh, no thanks,” she declined politely, “I have ‘some’ standards.”

Clarice shrugged, “You're missing out, some of them are totally your type.”

Nadine looked unconvinced.

“You are being pretty judgy,” Clarice reprimanded her with a grin, “You oughta know that not everyone can pick what they want to do for a living.”

Nadine flinched, “Right…” She sighed.

Leaving Nadine and Clarice to their debate on what exactly made a guy ‘dating material’, I began making my way back to our borrowed home. On the way, I was stopped by a trio of weavers and presented with a long silk tunic and robe to replace those I had lost almost a week ago. Just as I was giving my thanks and about to continue on my way home, I stopped and awkwardly approached the head weaver again.

“Everything good, yes?” The elderly weaver asked with only a hint of concern and no small amount of challenge in her cloudy eyes.

“The clothes are fine,” I hastily reassured her, “It’s just-”

“Just?” The weaver asked, her voice becoming low and threatening.

“I was wondering if you could make some clothes for my wife, erm, mate, Lash,” I explained.

“Oh,” The elderly woman’s expression brightened considerably, “You know measurements?” She enquired carefully.

I nodded, “I do.” I had discovered that villagers used a system of measurement for clothing somewhat similar to the metric system in both scale and increments. So I was relatively confident in approximating Lash’s measurements to their system.

“Robe? Dress? Underclothes?” The elderly woman enquired.

I blushed profusely and tried to remind myself I was an adult and there was nothing to be ashamed of. This should be no different to buying her clothes at the mall...A certain part of the mall you don’t want to be found by or find your friends or their parents… “Ah, a bit of a combination of the last two,” I replied awkwardly.

The elderly weaver looked intrigued and took a firm hold of my elbow as she guided me into the weavery, “Come come, explain all, we make,” the old woman reassured me with a grin on her face.

Trying not to die of embarrassment, I forced myself to consider the end result that would make it all worth it. Facing a room full of women, a full third of whom were doubtless half my age, I began the delicate mental gymnastics on how best to describe a harem dancer’s outfit without coming across as a complete degenerate scumbag.

*****

When she was first assigned to form a Pact with a Warlock on the fourth floor, Senn had been reluctant, to say the least. After finalizing the Pact with the Warlock and then accepting a Summons from a Pact Binder on the same floor, Senn was not inclined to change her mind. However, after briefly exchanging pleasantries with her hatch-mate Mors, Senn recognised an opportunity to assist her development.

A predator named the Sand Stalker, while largely useless to Mors, had an otherwise unique nervous system that suited Senn’s intended progression perfectly.

Senn’s Pactbound Warlock was only too happy to accommodate her request for an intact specimen in exchange for ‘borrowing’ additional maximum mana. With mana to spare, Senn made the trade gladly. Part of their Pact granted Senn half the raw mana each time the Warlock consumed a manastone, so her maximum capacity would grow with time anyway.

To appease her Pactbound Warlock’s sensibilities, Senn had accepted an altered tunic that accommodated her four arms and felt smooth to the touch. She truly regretted that the Pact Binder was too low a level to allow equipment to travel through the summoning. Losing her armour and weapons had been tolerable, given that Senn had armoured scales for skin, and no shortage of natural weaponry. But the prospect of going without the soft textured garment was unacceptable

Attending the hunt as much out of boredom as general curiosity, Senn found she preferred the drier climate and how it influenced her metabolism. Soaking in the heat through the large surface area of her tail, Senn felt positively brimming with energy.

Using her ability to sense mana, Senn had no problem pointing out the hiding place of the first Sand Stalker. Curious to see how the giant invertebrate would fight, Senn watched as six of the warriors from her escort formed a spear wall with halberds, while the Pactbound Warlock manifested a limited transformation to enhance her combat capabilities.

Because of the Warlock’s low level, the transformation was mostly limited to emulating Senn’s armoured scales and reinforcing the Warlock’s muscles. All the same, the Warlock seemed overwhelmed by the extent of the changes. “Give me a weapon!” The warlock demanded, holding an outstretched hand towards her minions.

With visible worry, a minion handed over an axe made by the Deep Orcs of Sanctuary.

Taking a long hafted grip on the axe with just her right hand, the Warlock smiled at the ease with which she could handle the otherwise unwieldy weapon. Striding into the combat with supreme confidence in her new abilities, the Warlock began hacking the Sand Stalker’s spindly limbs apart with relatively little difficulty.

The Warlock’s minions panicked when she was knocked down by one of the Sand Stalker’s broken thrashing limbs. Before they could intervene, the Sand Stalker bodily tacked the Warlock with its fangs bared and dripping with venom.

Unconcerned, Senn watched as her Pact Bonded Warlock disappeared from sight beneath the thrashing form of the Sand Stalker. When the death notification appeared a few moments later, Senn appeared to be the only one that had expected the Warlock’s triumph, and that annoyed her. Daemonic Vigour aside, Senn’s scales were harder than steel, which of course meant that the Warlock’s imitation would be at least as strong as iron. A wounded Sand Stalker would lack the required leverage to penetrate the Warlock’s scales.

As the Warlock clawed her way out from beneath the shuddering corpse of the Sand Stalker, Senn could see a newfound sense of respect from the minions and found that she liked it.

Was this what Overseer Gric had intended?

Forward-thinking had not been one of Senn’s strengths. As a one-horn, it was all but expected of her. Primal instincts that were woven into every fibre of her being told Senn she was a follower, not a leader. That disobeying those stronger than herself was the greatest sin Senn could commit. 

But what if that was wrong? Or a test of sorts?

Straining her limited higher thought processes, Senn began to doubt her instincts.

Why would Overseer Gric provide Senn with a path to greater strength through a Pact Bond when he could have taken it himself? Why not offer it to his Lieutenants the two-horns Qreet and Dar?

Getting nowhere, Senn decided she needed to improve her critical reasoning ability.

Approaching the Sand Stalker, Senn knew she wouldn’t get what she wanted from it. But she would be able to improve her ability to simultaneously and independently coordinate her limbs, which would significantly improve her future combat capabilities.

Sampling the Sand Stalker’s nervous system directly, Senn was pleased to confirm her assessment had been correct. Manipulating each of her arms and tail independently had just become significantly easier and much smoother. Unexpectedly, Senn found herself able to think somewhat more clearly, and felt like the answers to her questions were just ever so slightly out of her reach.

Feeling the increase in her evolutionary potential increase as the Warlock consumed the Sand Stalker’s manastone, Senn realised that the means to achieving her answers was standing right in front of her.

“I demand blood as payment,” Senn commanded.

The Warlock seemed surprised but not unwilling. “In exchange for more power?” She asked greedily.

Senn smiled, “Of course.”

Without hesitation, the Warlock removed her Daemonic Manifestation and slashed her left hand with a long knife normally carried on her hip.

The Warlock extended her bleeding palm towards Senn who graciously accepted the offer.

After ingesting a small portion of the Warlock’s blood, Senn directed her remaining potential towards developing her mind’s critical reasoning abilities. Improving cognitive functions without compromising her existing nervous systems advantages meant Senn had to take it slow. However, with each passing moment, Sen could better appreciate its benefits.

Only halfway into her intended improvements, Senn already understood what the Overseer Gric had to gain by arranging Senn’s Pact to the Warlock. As the officiator of all Daemonic Pacts, Overseer Gric received a portion of all raw mana that would be awarded from summons and Pacts. Meaning, Overseer Gric could pursue his own development without actively engaging in the activities himself.

Rather than feeling angry, Senn realised that she had, in fact, been given a golden opportunity. Just as Overseer Gric was benefiting off of her, Senn could benefit off of others by forming more Pacts. In order to do that, Senn would need more Warlocks…