Chapter 60 (Patreon)

“We need to talk,” Orn’tol said.

Mild alarm flashed across Taleya’s face. She looked at him intently, and Orn’tol returned her gaze, standing his ground despite the roiling in his stomach. Taleya was more than 10 Levels above him and his senior by at least a century. Ingrained social norms made confronting her feel like staring down a Bestial Chimera, but this was important, and he wouldn’t allow nerves to deter him from addressing an issue that could fester and rot if left unattended.

“Is this truly the best time?” Taleya finally replied, jerking her head towards their prisoner. Well, not quite a prisoner anymore, but close enough to one. Tiarsus had been given provisional freedom to stretch his legs and explore Esternard City – with supervision. Today, Orn’tol and Taleya had volunteered to be his handlers. Taleya because she was bored, and Orn’tol because it gave him an excuse to corner Taleya away from prying eyes.

Except for Tiarsus, but Orn’tol didn’t particularly care if the man tried to spread gossip about them. Loose lips mattered little when they belonged to someone that no one paid much attention to.

“Tiarsus?” Orn’tol began. “Walk to the end of the street. Stay in in our line of sight. Don’t try to run – if you do, we’ll find you.”

The Magic Swordsman flinched. “Are you going to talk about me?” He asked, resembling a dog that had been chastised.

“No.”

Immediate relief washed across his features. He sprinted to the end of the street, following his instructions to the letter. Orn’tol briefly wondered if he should be nicer to the man, but it’s not as if he was treating Tiarsus poorly. Their interactions had been perfectly civil. That was as much courtesy as Orn’tol was willing to extend to the person who had tried to kidnap Rob.

And whose friends had chased Orn’tol through the woods, promising death once they caught him. Flight of the Coward had pulled its weight that night, and then some.

“You’re actually Orn’tol, right?” Taleya asked, eyebrows raised. “I seem to remember a boy with that same name. He was a shy trainee who never spoke out of turn and despised confrontation. What happened to him in three short months?”
I left him behind at The Village. “How I act is none of your concern,” Orn’tol remarked, adopting a stern tone. “But how you act is certainly a concern of mine. I have questions for you, and we’re not moving from this spot until I receive answers. Satisfactory answers.”

Taleya stared at him, unblinking. “I give your efforts at intimidation a five out of ten,” she stated. “Would have been higher if your voice didn’t crack in the middle of it. Very well; what questions do you have for me?”

Orn’tol fought back the embarrassment creeping into his cheeks and stood up straight. “I want to know why you voted to let Tiarsus live.”

She shrugged. “Thought he deserved a second chance.”

“That is a lie.”

Taleya appeared taken aback, but she didn’t deny his allegation. A bit of the churning in Orn’tol’s stomach subsided; he was mostly sure that he’d figured out at least that much, but if he’d blurted out that claim and been wrong, he might not have been able to show his face around her for weeks.

“You voted to let him live because Rob voted to let him live,” Orn’tol declared. “And for no other reason. You wished to curry favor with Rob by mirroring his desires.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Fine. What of it? Is that a crime?”

“You have also inserted yourself into our Party at every opportunity,” Orn’tol continued. “Not just the vote to decide Tiarsus’ fate. If there is room in Rob’s Party, you take care to make yourself available when he decides who to include. Over time, you have made yourself somewhat of a mainstay in our group through naught but dogged persistence and familiarity.”

He paused for emphasis. “And I would know why. You aren’t fond of us, that much is clear. But you also don’t seem like the kind of person to attach yourself to people of influence in order to ride their coattails. So...why?” He trailed off at the end, losing momentum in the final moment as he failed to produce a suitably dramatic finisher.

Thunderous rage struck Taleya’s expression. It vanished just as quickly, replaced by tired exasperation a second later. “The fact that you can’t answer those questions on your own is a testament to how warped your expectations have become,” she muttered.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re 34 years old and have been using a Combat Class for no more than several years,” she spat. “You’re also Level 21. Have you any idea of how absurd that is? Just how fast do you believe that the average Ranger progresses in their early years? A large part of your current Level is due to the abundance of fighting we’ve been subjected to as of late, but it’s plain to see that your growth has been accelerated by constant access to Rob's Fast Learner. By Lothren’s mercy, I myself have – at times – gone years without leveling up. Years! I’ve gained more bonus Experience by being a hanger-on in Rob’s Party than I have in my previous decade of hunting. You’ve gained far more than that.”

Taleya grimaced. “And you’re hardly the only outlier. Keira, Zamira, Vul’to, and Malika are all catching up to the Rangers at a rate that is borderline insulting. It’s no secret that Rob prioritizes you lot over the rest of us. He barely bothers to include anyone else in his Party unless they’re in need of healing, not even the Utility Class users who have recently adopted a Combat Class, and they’re far behind in Levels. Shamelessly, and without reservation, he gives preferential treatment to his closest allies.”

She let out a bitter laugh. “And why shouldn’t he? The Village ostracized him, and you befriended him. What right have we to complain? The Rangers recognize that the fault is theirs, and if nothing else, they have their pride. They aren’t going to beg the favor of someone they wronged simply because he now has something to offer them.”

Orn’tol was silent, his mouth hanging open. Taleya took a moment to compose herself, hands shaking slightly. “I suppose I possess less pride than most,” she said, in a subdued tone. “I won’t beg, but I’ll push to be included in the ways that I can. Fast Learner is too valuable to give up on. I refuse to be left behind. The strength to protect myself, to take control of my life – I crave it. That’s normal, isn’t it?”

She fixed him with a desperate gaze. “Surely you understand that?”

He did. Very much so.

“Hello!” Tiarsus yelled, shattering the atmosphere like a rock through a window. “Is everything all right? You both seem very distressed!”

Orn’tol couldn’t help it; he laughed. Taleya joined him. Tiarsus looked very confused, and that just made them laugh harder.

Eventually, their giggle fit subsided, having expelled enough tension to allow them to pick up where they’d left off. “There are your answers,” she said. “Judge me if you will-”

“I won’t,” Orn’tol interrupted. “If I was in your position, I probably would have done the same.”

The lowest points of his life had all come about from a lack of power. The death of his parents, his near-death in the Dungeon Crawl, Malika’s near-Death in the invasion of The Village, the death of every civilian he’d failed to protect on the journey to Esternard City – all preventable, if only he’d been stronger. It felt wrong to think of Rob as a resource and not as the good friend that he was, but in an alternate reality where they barely knew each other, Orn’tol could easily imagine himself ingratiating himself into Rob’s good graces in order to become a mainstay of the Party, just as Taleya was.

He wasn’t enough of a hypocrite to criticize her.

Taleya stared at him, shocked, before nodding with a grateful expression. They shared an unspoken moment – the kinship of the prideless – before rejoining their hapless prisoner.

–

There was a knock at the door.

48...49...50. Keira quickly finished her set of push-ups and hopped to her feet with a stretch. She grabbed a washcloth on the way to the front door and wiped off the sweat on her face – which was very little to the point of being unnoticeable, but it was the principle of the thing. Another knock sounded out, this one more insistent. Keira was tempted to characterize it as ‘desperate’, but that was assuming too much.

Her heart sank a moment later when she opened the door and discovered that she had not, in fact, been assuming too much.

“Lady Blightkiller!” Lenora greeted in a tone full of sunshine and rainbows. “How wonderful to see you again.”

Lothren have mercy, Keira thought.

“Pardon me for calling on you at such a short notice,” the ball of energy in the form of an Elf continued. “But have you perchance seen Rob today? He’s been making himself scarce as of late, and while I can understand why, there are critical matters that we both must attend to!”

Keira folded her arms. “And what, pray tell, might those matters be?”

“What else?” Lenora beamed. “Class Alteration is as popular a request as it’s ever been! The queue gets longer every day, which is...slightly problematic considering the Skill’s usage restrictions, but that just means there’s no time to lose!”

She leaned closer. “With that in mind, do you know where Rob is?”

“Yes.”

Lenora clapped her hands once. “Outstanding! Where might he be?”

Keira suppressed a cruel grin. “I never said I would tell you where he is.”

She couldn’t help but take a bit of sadistic glee in how a single sentence managed to transform Lenora’s expression from enthusiastic to crestfallen. It wasn’t that she had any personal vendetta against the woman, but Lenora was the definition of overbearing, like a puppy that kept following you around long after all you wanted to do was curl up and take a nap. Cute, in small doses, but her lack of a sense of personal space grew grating the more time you spent with her.

“Keira, I’m serious,” she pouted. “I wouldn’t badger Rob if anyone else was capable of using Class Alteration, but it’s a unique gift that the gods have granted to him, and to him only. It’s become a public service that will help ensure our continued survival.”

Damnation, Keira thought. She’s using logic. “You make some fair points, but is time truly of the essence in this case? As far as I’m aware, the majority of the acceptable candidates have already Altered their Classes.”

Lenora raised a finger. “Ah, but you’re referring to Utility Class users Altering to Combat Class users, correct? We’re currently considering the opposite – Combat Class users Altering to a Utility Class.”

Keira tilted her head. “That I can’t agree with. I don’t intend to demean users of Utility Classes, but the fact remains that at present we need far fewer of them then we need Combat Classes. Your suggestion may be a possibility to explore once the Deserters permanently settle into their new residence, but right now survival is our top priority.”

“I agree,” Lenora said. “The change would be reverted before we begin our travels to Broadwater City. Until then, this is an excellent opportunity to explore the potentials of high-level Utility classes. Can you imagine the Skills that might arise from, as an example, a Level 32 Ranger altering their class to a Farmer?” She practically bounced with excitement. “Have you ever even heard of a Utility Class user that went above the low-20s?”

Keira paused. In truth, there were significant complications that made high-leveled Utility Class users an infeasible prospect. First, you had to find a Utility Class user who was actually willing to go out and risk their lives fighting horrible beasts that might tear them to shreds. Keira wouldn’t trade her lifestyle for anything, but she didn’t begrudge anyone who abhorred violence and wanted nothing to do with it. Sane people feared blood and death; it took someone with a brain that was slightly askew to want to fight as much as it took to reach Level 30 and beyond. Utility Class users tended to pick a Utility Class because they were satisfied with that being their lot in life. Mr. Baker wanted to cook the best damn pies in town and provide for his family, not be eaten alive and shit out by a wolf in the woods, widowing his wife and orphaning his children in the process.

Then there was the matter of their long-term survival prospects, which were dismal, to say the least. While their stats could allow them to acquit themselves well-enough when fighting weaker monsters, their struggles increased exponentially as they fought tougher and tougher foes to gain the same rate of progression. Their lack of Combat-related Class Skills would be their undoing sooner rather than later. It was theoretically possible for a Combat Class user to fight along a Utility Class user and do most of the work for them, granting them every last hit in order to funnel the EXP one way, but that theory crumpled under the harsh boot of reality. The system adjusted EXP based on the inherent danger of a situation. If a Utility Class user did not participate in combat, then they would receive less benefit in return. And if they did participate in combat, they were likely to die. No one was perfect. Even with a stalwart protector at their side, the odds of a Utility Class user living through hundreds of life-threatening battles were slim at best.

All of this, of course, was preconceived in the notion that Combat Class users would be willing to give up vast quantities of EXP in order to laboriously raise the Level of a single Utility Class user. And to be blunt, they would not. Levels were power in every sense of the word. Power in combat, power in society, power in life itself. At the kernel of every Combat Class user, even the ones with the most altruistic of motivations, was a person who wanted power. And that power was achievable only through constant effort and great personal risk. Mr. Ranger and Mr. Baker might be the best of friends, but if Mr. Baker asked his friend to help raise his Levels, Mr. Ranger would laugh in his face. Mr. Baker might take up the idea with the head of town, citing the potential wonders of high-Level Utility Class Skills, but he would be laughed at yet again for his efforts. No leader would let plentiful bounties of EXP go to waste like that. Every drop of Experience that didn’t go to a Combat Class user reduced the military might of a nation. It meant less strength with which to expunge Dungeons, keep monsters at bay, and ward off the hungry eyes of their neighbors.

As a whole, the idea of raising a Utility Class user to a high Level was a fun dream to entertain yourself with. But at the end of the day, that’s all it was. A dream.

Class Alteration flipped every single aspect of that scenario on its head. Mr. Ranger could kill monsters, change to a Level 32 Farmer, work his wonders on the fields, and then become a Ranger again when it came time to raise his Levels. No military might would be lost, and the societal benefits had untold amounts of untapped potential.

“I promise you that I will let Rob know of your idea,” Keira relented. “But that is all. He needs his privacy, and it would do you well to remember that this public service he offers is just that: an offer. One that can be rescinded at any time, should he feel unappreciated or misused.”

Lenora winced like she’d been punched in the gut. “That...is more than fair, Lady Blightkiller. I will relent for the day. When you next see Rob, give him my regards and my apologies.”

Keira waited until a minute after Lenora had left before walking to the kitchen closet and knocking three times. “She is gone.”

“Oh thank god.” Rob exited the closet and let out a long breath. “Thought she’d never leave.”

“I still don’t understand how you were aware that she was coming,” Keira admitted. “One minute we’re talking as normal, the next...” She gestured to the now-empty closet. “Have you acquired a new Skill that alerts you of her presence?

Rob winced. “No special Skill. Just intuition and pattern recognition.” He rubbed at the dark circles under his eyes. “Thanks for covering for me. I heard the conversation between you two, and I can’t really disagree with anything she said, but...not today. I’ll be up for Class Alteration shenanigans tomorrow.”

Keira believed him. His demeanor had improved surely and steadily ever since that disastrous first day in Esternard. She hadn’t done much to put him back on his feet, either; he’d rebuilt his composure all on his own, through quiet contemplation and gradual acceptance of his circumstances.

It sparked a feeling of intense pride whenever she looked at him. Rob might be a softhearted fool, but for someone who had lived a comfortable life back on Earth, his capacity for punishment was worryingly impressive. Keira couldn’t begin to imagine what coming across a perverse facsimile of his long-lost home must have been like, especially one serving as a graveyard. Yet here he stood, ready to face his lot in life head-on.

I should tell him that he’s done well, she thought. But that may come across as patronizing. Men can be touchy when you suggest that they’re anything less than perfect paragons of inner strength. Then again, Rob has openly admitted his inner turmoil on numerous occasions, so I should put more faith in him than that.

“Where did we leave off in the conversation?” Rob asked. “Some stuff about buildings being weird?”

Keira nodded. “You were explaining to me how the architecture and aesthetic appearance of Esternard is remarkably similar to that of an Earth city, but that it also falls apart in crucial ways upon closer inspection.”

“Right, right.” Rob took a seat and adopted his ‘reminiscing about Earth’ tone. It was one always tinged with fond, sad nostalgia. “I’ve already told you about the lack of electricity, which in itself is a huge difference. No TV, computers, telephone, streetlights, power lines...I could go on. But it goes deeper than that. There’s less metal used in the construction of buildings – I’m guessing it’s even more of a precious metal in Elatra than it is back home. Certain names are different, too, or not different when they kinda should be. A police station is still called a police station, but without guns or sufficient metal to create holding cells, it doesn’t really feel like one. I checked out some restaurant menus, and while a cheeseburger is still called a cheeseburger, a pizza is called a ‘circet’, which sounds inherently wrong even though I know ‘pizza’ is a total nonsense word.”

Rob paused, in thought. “What I really want to know is how long Esternard City has looked like this. Did Human cities in Elatra always resemble Earth cities? Or did their culture evolve to look like Earth cities over time? Either answer would only raise further questions, but at least it would be a starting point. Unfortunately, the books I was able to scrounge up weren’t much help. The biggest library in Esternard was virtually demolished by The Cataclysm, and most of what remained was pulp genre fiction and saucy romance novels.”

“Did you Store any of the latter?”

“Got you covered.”

Keira smiled. “Truly, you are the best of friends.” She leaned forward and rested her chin in her hands. “Where do you intend to go from here?”

He shrugged. “Keep searching, I guess. I’m not expecting to find anything, but it can’t hurt. Not much else to do outside of magic lessons and Class Alteration meetings.”

Rob let out an exaggerated, long-suffering sigh, and adopted a tone he’d previously identified as being a ‘bad British accent’. “Alas, if only there was the internet with which to kill time. I thought I had gone cold turkey, but living in this Earth-like city has re-ignited my addiction which I thought long since dead and buried. I’m an alcoholic surrounded by naught but water.”

Keira giggled. “At the risk of coming across as insensitive, I must admit to a modicum of envy whenever you mention the technologies of Earth. The barest minimum you tell me comes across as wonders straight out of myth. I truly hope that I can see it one day with my own eyes.”

A wistful smile spread across Rob’s face. “I hope so too. You would go nuts over a movie theater. Oh, and a gym. You would fucking love a gym.”

She hummed. “Out of curiosity, is there anything in Elatra that you would be loath to part with? Or rather; if you were to bring one item from Elatra back to your home, what would it be?”

“You, obviously,” Rob said, without hesitation.

Keira’s heart stopped, and then started beating twice as fast. She stared at his guileless expression with mounting panic and excitement. Does he not know what that sounds like?!

“Oh, right, almost forgot,” Rob said, oblivious to her inner turmoil. He materialized a book from his Spatial Storage and held it out to her. She accepted it gingerly, her eyes widening as she read the cover.

“You remember boxing?” Rob said. “The Earth sport where people punch each other in the face for fun? You seemed really into the idea, and I just so happened to come across an almanac while perusing what was left of the library’s shelves.” He grinned. “Turns out that Fake Earth Cities still enjoy most of the same sports.”

Keira stared at The Boxer’s Almanac like it was a legendary treasure unearthed from a high-Level Dungeon. Rob had been working through so much pain, and spent busy days trying to uncover the secrets of a city that was torture to inhabit, but despite all that, he never stopped thinking of her. In the midst of all that anguish, he still kept her in his heart and mind.

A warm smile spread from ear-to-ear. That softhearted, wonderful man.

She looked up at him and saw eyes as wide as dinner plates. “Oh. I. Uh.” Rob sputtered for a few moments before finding actual words to say. “Just thought of a lead on the Earth thingy. Gotta go check it out. Talk to you later bye!”

And then he was gone, sprinting out of the door, leaving Keira excessively confused. She shook it off quickly, wasting no time before cracking open the almanac and submerging herself in the enchanting world of boxing.

–

What the fuuuuuuuck!

Rob re-read the message for the tenth time, waiting for the other shoe to drop and for the system to declare that everything had been a twisted practical joke. It never did.

Passive Skill Learned!
Name: Seduction
Prerequisite: Mind 15, noticeably increase someone’s degree of attraction for you who didn’t already possess at least a major crush on you.
Description: Ooh-la-la! Looks like your Cupid’s Arrow hit its mark. This Skill adjusts your mannerisms to be more charismatic and appealing, allowing you to become better-adept at wooing others. Will have no effect on those who have no possible romantic interest in you. Go get ‘em, tiger!

Error: Passive Skill ‘Seduction’ Should Have Already Been Learned!

Seduction Level Increased! 1 → 2

As compensation, you have been granted 1 Mind. We apologize for the inconvenience!

This...this is a mistake, right? Rob thought, as he aimlessly ran through the streets of Esternard. The system makes errors all the time. It can’t-

<Rob,> Diplomacy stated, in an insistent tone. <Cut the melodrama. I can see your thoughts and emotions. You’re not nearly as surprised about this development as you’re acting like you are.>

She’s a gorgeous, badass, amazing woman who people are going to be lining up to date, Rob countered. And I’m a 7/10 on a good day by Human standards. Why the fuck would she be interested in me?

<Aside from the fact that I think Elven beauty standards – or the kind of appearances they’re attracted to – don’t quite work the way you assume? You and Keira have a close emotional connection that’s been building for months. And you know that.>

Rob skid to a halt, legs twitching with nervous energy. He raised his head to look at the clear blue skies, sighing. Yeah. Maybe.

<Why aren’t you happy?> Diplomacy asked, with legitimate confusion. <If you both like each other, then where’s the harm?>

Rob grit his teeth. And what happens when I go home? Because I am finding my way home.

Diplomacy hesitated. <You take her with you.>

To an entirely new world where she’ll be completely out of her depth, the only person of her kind, and liable to be dissected by the government before the week is out? I know what that feels like, and I’m not subjecting her to the same kind of hell I went through. Maybe it would be different if she could return to Elatra and come back as she pleased, but my way back home might be a one-way ticket, and either way her commuting back and forth would put a strain on our relationship, as I’m not setting foot back in this fucking world the second I get out of Shawshank. All of this is assuming I *can* take her – there’s no guarantee she can come with me when I bullshit my way back to Earth. And even if we manage to overcome every single one of those hurdles, she’s still going to outlive me by several hundred years. The endgame of our relationship would be that it fizzles out while I’m still in Elatra and our friendship gets awkward, or that I abandon her when I go back home, or that I abandon her when I die. Does any of that sound remotely fair to you?

Diplomacy was silent for several minutes.

<Your concerns are valid,> the Skill finally said. <But you’re ignoring the positives of a relationship with Keira. The ways it would bring you joy, and the ways that your concerns could be solved with enough effort and foresight. We’re not done talking about this, Rob. I refuse to let you sabotage your own happiness.>

Look, I-

Orn’tol has left the Party!

Cold shock ran through both of them.

Rob activated Step of the Wind and sprinted for the entrance of Esternard. Not long ago, Riardin’s Rangers had gotten together and created a list of long-distance ‘messages’ they could send each other that were represented by someone leaving the party. For example, Zamira leaving would mean that they should all report to her house for a meeting. Keira leaving meant that the Elders wanted to speak with them.

And Orn’tol leaving meant that bad shit was going down at the front of the city.

Word had spread by the time Rob arrived. A crowd of civilians, most of the Rangers, and both Elders were talking to three other Rangers that had returned from their scouting mission. All three looked shaken, and it wasn’t long before Rob learned why.

A Dungeon had been discovered.


–


Changes

Mind 27 -> 28
Learned: Seduction

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