Chapter 107 (Book 3 Chapter 35) (Patreon)

Author's Note:

Recent chapters (including ones you guys haven't seen yet) have more a lot more difficult/time-consuming than usual to write, so to give myself a bit of breathing room the next update is going to be a short, non-canon filler thing. This will help extend my chapter backlog (which increases overall quality, as each chapter is edited up until the day of release) and retain author sanity, which is important for obvious reasons. Thanks for your patience, and as always, thanks for reading!

--

Four Days Later

Rob tossed and turned in his bed, wishing – and not for the first time – that Elatra had electricity. This was going to be one of those nights where sleep came scarcely, if at all, and a distraction would've been nice to have. Video games, internet, Netflix...something to make the hours go by faster. Heck, he would've settled for a simple ceiling fan to add white noise to the background.

Instead he was stuck reading Fiendish literature by magelight, and there were only so many torrid romance novels a person could burn through before their mind started to rot like spaghetti left out in the sun. He now knew seven different ways to describe a Fiend's eyes, including but not limited to: 'deep captivating pools', 'beautiful orbs of black', and 'limitless darkness to match the darkness in my heart'. Fiend adventure novels might've been more up his alley, but those focused largely on monster slaying, and he wasn't part of their primary target audience anymore. They were mostly written for Utility Class users who wanted to vicariously experience what it felt like to be a badass Combat Class user – without any of the actual danger involved.

Rob didn't need to read a book to get that experience. All he had to do was head outside and pick a fight with one of the numerous creatures roaming around. Physically intimidating as they were – except for the inverted cat, that one was just weird – none of the Black Wind's monsters he'd encountered so far were a threat to him in the slightest. The Wind's dispersed 'particles', as Malika dubbed them, were opting for quantity rather than quality, seeking to overwhelm Fiendland with frequent attacks that could materialize anywhere at any time. It wasn't a scenario that Elatran society was equipped to handle, and that went double for the Fiends, as they were used to the Spire reducing their monster and Dungeon spawns to a near-minimum. The only saving grace was that the Fiends' inherent strength allowed them to scrape by without incurring too many casualties.

Until the Day of Flesh, anyway. Not everyone was fortunate enough to have an Archmage by their side when groups of heavily-Corrupted Fiends began fusing together into tortured mockeries of existence. The Amalgamations were gone now, and practices had been changed so that infected Fiends were spread out instead of clumped together, but by then the damage was already done. Aside from the death toll – which was a very large aside – morale was at an all-time low. As a fellow soul-endangered aficionado, Rob understood where they were coming from, although he'd somehow gotten off lucky compared to them. At least he wasn't at risk of turning into a Flesh Amalgamation if his condition worsened.

...Should probably ask his doctors about that. Just to be sure.

Regardless, Rob wasn't anywhere near as panicked as the Fiends were. Whenever he looked at the slow-burn apocalypse playing out right before his eyes, he somehow found himself feeling...left out? No, that wasn't the right phrase. That would imply that he was envious of what the Fiends were going through. It was more that he simply wasn't accustomed to being an outsider during times of crisis. Even when he was a newcomer to The Village who half the Elves wanted to skin alive, he'd still ended up smack dab in the middle of everything, a Level 10ish newbie that was in way over his head. He'd been forced to put his life on the line again and again, braving monsters and Dungeons and Blights, all for the privilege of watching the sun rise in the morning.

His role in the Black Wind's aftermath was different. Its particles didn't affect him, its monsters went down in one or two blows, and even the Dungeons it spawned were shockingly milquetoast. He was Level 49 now, which might as well have put him on a different plane of existence when compared to Utility Class users – and the majority of Combat Class users, honestly. Rather than a victim struggling to survive, Rob was one of the lucky few who wasn't in any real danger. He could coast through this ordeal and walk out of Fiendland without a scratch on him.

He'd be walking out of a graveyard, but strictly speaking, it was technically an option.

I think I'm starting to understand why so many leaders in Elatra are nutso, Rob told Diplomacy. I mean, I *knew* why, but now I *understand* why. Having this much inherent power would warp anyone's mind. I've got you, Riardin's Rangers, and my experiences on Earth to keep me grounded, and I still have to stop myself from getting too bigheaded every now and then.

<The word 'demigod' was skirting on the surface of your thoughts,> Diplomacy pointed out. <You were close to using it as a self-descriptor. I'm glad you didn't; it saved me the effort of having to put you in a verbal submission hold until you cried uncle.>

Rob paused. Don't worry. The Fiends beat you to that.

Diplomacy's playful aura subsided to a low melancholy. Rob rubbed his forehead and sighed, thinking back to the incident that'd played out two days earlier.

"Please," the Fiend had begged, holding out a small child swaddled in rags. "Save him."

Rob froze mid-step. Sounds of combat echoed three streets away as he gaped at the Fiend, his eyes bulging. He'd been expecting an ambush from monsters, not from a civilian. As he looked over the woman and her child, the boy's pain matched only by the intensity of his mother's gaze, Rob concluded that he would've preferred the monsters.

"What the hell are you doing out here?" he hissed. "The anti-Corruption amulets aren't foolproof, and in case you haven't noticed, there are fucking monsters running around. Which I need to go kill, so-"

The mother grabbed onto his arm and held tight. She was weak, especially for a Fiend. It would've been trivial for him to overpower her and go join the battle he was missing out on. Yet he felt himself rooted to the spot by her grip – and the note of pure desperation in her voice.

"Purge my son's Corruption," she pleaded. "He's in a bad way and getting worse. I don't – I don't know how much longer he has."

Rob swallowed the lump rising in his throat. "I'm sorry. Purge Corruption has a limit, and I emptied its reserves just a little while ago."

"But it'll be ready soon, yes?" She leaned closer, breath tickling his nose. "I can come back then?"

She was correct. Purge Corruption charged over the course of twenty-four hours. It was late afternoon now, and by tonight he'd have enough juice to stabilize approximately 50 Fiends, which was the exact number of afflicted children that were being brought in. He and the Overseers had refined the patient pipeline down to a science. And if he wanted to ensure that everyone in tonight's shipment survived, then he couldn't afford to waste a single iota of Purge Corruption energy.

These were kids with parents who'd already been promised salvation. Acting on his own, selfish, impulsive desires would be little different then bumping someone off an organ donor list on a whim.

"He'll never make the list," the mother said, as if reading his mind. "We're not important or rich or sympathetic or, or anything. Not even the right amount of pitiable. No one will care if we die."

Rob didn't say anything. He just stood there, thoughts in flux. Diplomacy couldn't help him devise a response, because Rob wasn't sure how he wanted to reply. Yes? No? He'd went outside expecting to kill some monsters, not be forced to make a snap decision where he weighed innocent lives in his hands.

Realizing that she might've pushed him too far, the woman let go of his arm and stepped back. "I'll return tonight," she said, more subdued than before. "Please consider my request. I'll do anything if it means saving my boy."

Rob had spent the next two hours racking his brains over what to do. After much deliberation, the best he could come up with was to split his Purge Corruption energy by a fraction more. Going from 50 patients to 51 might be doable. The problem was that carefully doling out fractions of energy to a large number of people required finesse that he was still in the process of learning. Sometimes he screwed up and gave his patients too much or too little. There'd been some very, very close calls.

And some deaths. Only a few, but any more than zero was too many.

His internal agonizing ended up being for naught. The woman and her child never showed up. Rob learned the next day that, shortly after meeting him, they'd been attacked and killed by monsters on their way home.

Rob let out a bitter chuckle. Yeah, he definitely wasn't a demigod. What kind of demigod failed to protect people who were counting on him? Who'd put their faith in him when all hope was lost? The fact that he was doing his best was a cold comfort. Every lost face he remembered just made the guilt worse.

WHY?

Rob sat up so quickly that he practically gave himself whiplash. Panic surged through his veins as an overwhelming, alien presence snaked its way into his psyche. The entity ignored Mind Resistance Level 4 like the Skill wasn't even there, pressing forward methodically and with the simplest of ease. Diplomacy's core shivered with fear as it did the mental equivalent of pressing its back up against a wall and hoping they went unnoticed. Rob clenched his fists with enough strength to draw blood, forced to watch as the invader took up residence in his head, then proceeded to sit calmly and wait for a response. As if casually violating someone's innermost sanctuary was no big deal.

"Was wondering when you would show up again," Rob said, feeling mildly proud that his voice didn't waver. "Been a while since we last spoke." He put on a hollow grin. "I guess gods have a packed schedule, eh? Fucking with the world must keep you busy."

NOT ME.

Rob grimaced. Unlike last time, the message being projected into his mind didn't cause him pain, but in exchange each word carried far greater weight than the ranting diatribe of two months ago. 'Not Me' was laden with several different meanings that took him a few seconds to parse out. First, this god was claiming that they weren't fucking with the world. Second, they were admitting that they weren't particularly busy. And third, they were clarifying that they weren't the god that spoke to Rob before.

While it was difficult to tell one almighty entity from another – especially with his sample size of two – Rob found himself believing the god's claim. The first god he'd spoken to nearly crushed his mind like a pancake; its message was delivered without a single care for Rob's health. In contrast, this god seemed to be treading carefully, aware of the damage they could cause if it moved too quickly. Like a very conscientious bull in a china shop. One that felt strangely familiar-

Rob's muscles tightened as he realized just who had paid him a visit. This was the god that he'd attempted to choke when Attuning to the Locus of Power in Esternard City.

And he was about to find out whether or not it was holding a grudge.

"Nice to know that the whole pantheon has me on speed dial," Rob said, barely suppressing the tremor in his legs. "So what's the occasion? Come to taunt me over my failures? If that's the case, then believe me, I'm way ahead of you."

NO.

That word's meaning was more easily parseable: the entity wasn't here to taunt him. "Huh," Rob commented, legitimately surprised. "You know, you're a lot less chatty than the last guy."

CONSERVE.

There was apparently a reason that it was keeping its messages short and sweet. If it wanted to conserve, that meant that speaking to Rob drained a resource of some kind. He doubted that the god would be forthcoming about the nature of that resource, so Rob decided to focus on a different topic and try to wheedle some information out of God #2 while it was in a chatty mood.

He ran the decision past Diplomacy – to no avail. The Skill was frozen by a passionate cocktail of fear and rage, stuck glaring at the entity like they wanted to choke it all over again. For now, Rob was flying solo.

"For your sake, I'll skip straight to the point." Rob laced his fingers together. "Why are you here? You started off by asking 'Why', but that's...broad. I won't be able to answer unless you narrow it down."

WHY CARE?

Translation: why care about the Fiends' inevitable extinction? Why care so much about the fates of people who he barely knew, and who he was powerless to save? Why care, when caring hurt?

Rob sucked in air through his teeth. "If that's a question you need to ask," he began, his voice taut. "Then you really are a god. Giving a shit about people you don't personally know is called basic empathy, and it's common for us puny mortals."

DEBATABLE.

"That's kinda edgy for a-"

STOP.

It wanted some time to think. Rob wasn't stupid or pissed off enough to deny that request. After half a minute had passed, the entity spoke again, using a full sentence to ensure that no meaning was lost in translation.

DO YOU WISH TO SAVE THEM?

Rob nodded without hesitation. "Isn't that obvious?"

Another half minute went by. Rob was beginning to wonder if he'd been left on hold when the entity abruptly poked a tendril forward and pressed the tip against some inner facet of Rob's core. He violently jerked back, banging his head against the wall as a tingling sensation sprouted from within his makeshift Locus of Power. The sensation didn't hurt, but it felt distinctly bizarre, like melted ice cream spreading across one small section of his brain.

He didn't get a chance to complain, the words dying in his throat as a system message popped up in front of him. Rob read the first line and almost smacked his head again when he saw 'Crystal Bearer'. Instead of a peppy phrase like 'Skill Leveled Up!' or 'Have a pity point of Mind!", this message was just Attunement's Skill Description, every Locus milestone listed verbatim and in order.

With one addendum at the bottom.

Rob hadn't gained a Level in Crystal Bearer or Attunement. Of that, he was certain. But despite knowing instinctively that he was still at Attunement Level 8, the description for Level 9 was right there, appearing grayed out and slightly blurred. As if it was a preview for what was to come if he Attuned to another Locus of Power.

"You're lying," Rob whispered, running his hands through his hair. "Just fucking with me. False hope. The hell is wrong with you?"

UNCOUTH.

Translation: Rob's reaction was uncouth. More importantly, the act of lying was in itself uncouth, and the entity would never stoop that low. It was beneath them.

"...Why?"

KISMET.

The presence receded from Rob's mind. Its sudden absence left Rob stewing in a mire of confusion. He'd received an answer, but not the one he'd asked for. The god's parting word was something different.

A name, freely given.

--

"We need to find another Locus of Power."

Riardin's Rangers, the two Elders, and Faelynn stared at Rob with varying expressions of exasperation. He couldn't see the Grand Overseers on the other side of the Message Crystal, but presumably they looked the same.

"Is this why you've called us here today?" The Overseer's voice was carefully neutral. "To state a thoroughly obvious fact? Under the guise that this was an emergency that required immediate attention? Thereby taking precious time away from-"

"Let me clarify," Rob hurriedly said, cutting up the Overseers' rising tone. "We really, REALLY need to find another Locus of Power. This goes beyond just increasing the number of Fiends I can help out in a day."

They'd discussed the prospect of hunting down more Loci of Power before. Each Attunement so far had tripled his Purge Corruption energy reserves, and thanks to the wonders of exponential growth, Rob was right on the cusp of going from stabilizing Fiends to outright curing them. Just one or two more Loci should do the trick. It wouldn't solve their Black Wind problem, but at least it would help keep Fiend civilization above water until a permanent solution could be found.

Unfortunately, they didn't have the faintest idea of where to find the next Locus of Power. Rob had scoured all of Fiend territory with his expanded search radius – combined with fast travel teleportation – twice now, and he doubted that a third go-around would turn up anything new. Fiendland was fresh out of Loci. If he wanted to Attune to Locus #9, he'd either have to search the Human wastelands to the south, the Merfolk seabed to the west, or the Dwarf underground to the east. Each option presented its own unique set of difficulties, and even if those problems were dealt with, it would still take Rob an estimated several weeks at a minimum to find another Locus, during which he'd be away from Fiendland and unable to Purge Corruption. Shitloads of people would die. After weighing the pros and cons, their group had decided to keep Rob stationed nearby so he could continue to address the situation as it worsened.

Kismet's revelation changed all that. The downsides were no less problematic, but the upsides were game changing. Rob gave everyone one last look, took a deep breath, and steeled his resolve. There wouldn't be any turning back after this.

"Attunement Level 9 is going to grant me the ability to restore Loci of Power that have been Corrupted by the Blight."

The silence that followed was so electric that it caused the hairs on the back of Rob's neck to stand on end.

Somehow, Faelynn was the first to find her footing. "How are you aware of this?" she asked, lightheaded. "The other Attunements...they...didn't work that way...oh, gods..."

"Rob," Elder Alessia stated. "Please explain. In detail."

Here we go. "I could call it a gut feeling," he began. "But that would be underselling it. Crystal Bearer is a part of me, more deeply intertwined with my soul than any normal Class – my physicians can attest to that. The more I use its capabilities, the more I understand exactly what it's capable of. And after Attuning with eight Loci and Purging Corruption from thousands of Fiends..."

Rob closed his eyes. "It's there," he muttered. "If I focus, I can see Level 9 in Attunement's Description. Doesn't work the same for Berserker, but Berserker is a Class that I chose. Crystal Bearer is one that was forced upon me. It's become like a second nervous system in my body." He opened his eyes and shrugged. "What other Class is like that? Honestly, I'm not surprised that it's continuing to manifest never-before-seen capabilities."

Deception Level Increased! 5 -> 6

He wasn't willing to reveal the actual origin of Attunement Level 9's description to the Overseers and Faelynn. Even assuming that the Fiends believed him, it would prompt too many questions, and the answers to those questions would lead to some big conversations that could go who knows where. For now, he just wanted them to accept what Attunement Level 9 was offering. Nothing else mattered.

The Elves in the room wore their best poker faces as Rob delivered his cover story. Thankfully, in spite of their reservations, they didn't make any attempt to derail his spiel. He was half expecting they would; bringing Riardin's Rangers and the Elders on board with believing Kismet had been a struggle. At first they thought he was being tricked, then they thought the brain damage was finally catching up to him, and then they started to wonder if he was being straight-up mind controlled. Which, you know, fair. After everything the gods had put them though, trusting one to give useful advice was just asking for punishment. The Elves weren't going to let Lothren’s ilk deceive them all over again.

Rob knew that that would be the case – which is why he actually considered selling them the same story that he was currently giving to the Fiends. It wasn't a decision he thought of lightly, and he'd gone back and forth on what to do several times. Diplomacy had been against the idea, partially out of distrust for their divine visitor, but also because the backlash would be severe if or when Riardin's Rangers discovered Rob's deceit. The Skill even worked hard to create a spirited, convincing speech where honesty was key.

But as it turned out, Diplomacy's models that utilized lies and half-truths still produced higher chances of success. The Elves' hatred and distrust of the gods slightly outweighed their trust for Rob – which was a problem, as this wasn't a sales pitch he could afford to bomb. Fiendland's corrupted Locus of Power would be its death sentence if left unaddressed. According to Malika, a second Black Wind was likely to come blowing in from the Locus' Blighted Lands in less than a week, with a third not far behind. Dungeons and monsters would spawn endlessly, and the Corruption plague would worsen day after day. The situation was so dire that some Fiends were proposing a mass exodus south, but even then, there was no guarantee that the Black Wind wouldn't just follow them.

Essentially, they were proper fucked. Attunement Level 9 was their last chance, and admitting how he learned about it carried the risk of the others barring him from pursuing that lead. It was frustrating, because Rob was pretty confident that Kismet was telling the truth. The god hadn't put on airs and acted like some gracious, supportive benefactor – whatever reason it possessed for revealing Attunement Level 9, it seemed to stem more from a whim than anything else. Rob couldn't trust altruism, but he could trust boredom.

And if he was being honest, the god's reaction to being called a liar was what convinced him the most. It'd been so...annoyed. In a very petty, mortal sense. Like when someone was falsely accused of cheating on a test. Rob knew that feeling very well, and on an unrelated note, Professor Skeever could go fuck himself.

The problem was that Rob's arguments in favor of Kismet's trustworthiness were derived entirely from his personal feelings. There was no actual evidence to present, which made Diplomacy's job a lot harder. The Skill was a badass, but they weren't perfect, and a 10% chance of failure wasn't acceptable in this scenario.

Then Rob said fuck it, and put his trust in his friends' trust for him. It worked out – barely. The others were going to be on high alert for any sign of divine brainwashing, which he couldn't argue with, really.

"If Rob is to be believed," Elder Duran began, once the Fiends finished processing the news. "Then I see no reason for further debate. It is imperative that we decide on an optimal course of action before the day is out." He rubbed his chin. "Forgive me, as I've been recuperating up until this point, but am I correct in assuming that the subject of Loci hunting was discussed at a prior date?"

"Indeed it was," the Grand Overseer answered. "And I'm loath to revisit the topic, although you're also correct in that a decision must be made. Finding a Locus of Power in Dwarf, Human, or Merfolk territory will prove to be a struggle no matter how carefully we plan."

"I still think the Dwarves would play ball," Rob interjected. "They've got a guilt complex about their role in The Scouring, right? Just send me over. No complex plan required. All I have to do is make nice, lie to people about how they're definitely not at fault for being accomplices to mass murder, and then ask for a tour of their biggest cities once they've gotten used to me. Then I Attune to the first Locus of Power that I find and Waymark back afterwards. Easy peasy, shouldn't take longer than a week."

The Message Crystal crackled as it projected a weary sigh. "Your faith in our teleportation mages is admirable," the Overseer commented. "Unfounded, but admirable. Precise teleportation requires a deep understanding of the area that the person in question is being transported to, and no Fiend has ever set foot in Dwarven holdings. Barring a stroke of pure luck, you'd likely end inside the mountain rock itself, body and soul fused to stone for time immemorial."

Rob put on a weak smile. "I was, uh, thinking more along the lines of putting me next to one of their mountain entrances. Which are out in the open air. Don't need to risk a teleport inside when I can just knock on their front door."

"Our surveillance indicates that the Dwarves have collapsed the entrances to their mountain," the Overseer continued. "And, by all accounts, have descended into full-blown isolation. You may attempt to knock, but I doubt that anyone will answer."
<He's not lying, and he's probably not wrong,> Diplomacy added. <Which doesn't preclude his ulterior motives for steering you away from Dwarven territory. The Overseers are worried that you'll abandon them for the first non-Fiend race that treats you nicely, and they're also worried that the Dwarves will invade if they realize that Fiendland is in crisis.>

Rob's cheek twitched. He didn't have the patience for this kind of crap right now. "Elder Alessia," he began, facing her. "What are the odds that the Dwarves would invade Fiendland if they caught wind of how bad things are over here?"

Varying reactions spread from face to face. Keira was wearing an 'Oh Snap' expression, while Faelynn looked stricken with horror; apparently, the notion hadn't occurred to her. Elder Alessia merely smirked, waiting several seconds for the Grand Overseers to wallow in their discomfort before replying.

"The odds of an invasion are high if news of the Black Wind circulates." Alessia ignored Faelynn's gasp of panic and continued on. "Now that the Humans are gone, no race despises the Fiends more than the Dwarves. It is a deep-seated, mutual enmity stemming from their millennia-long proximity to one another." She crossed her arms. "Even if we were able to get in contact with the Dwarves, and even if you happened to meet ones that were sympathetic to Humanity, they'd still ask questions about where you came from, especially after their mages inevitably detect residual Fiend mana lingering on your body."

"A valid concern," Rob said, nodding. "Thanks for clarifying." He turned towards the Message Crystal. "Isn't it nice what we can accomplish when we talk about our problems openly and honestly?"

<Oh? Are you ready to tell them about Kismet, then?>

...That's different.

<Mmmhmmmmm.>
"Be that as it may," the Overseer grumbled. "I think we're in agreement that searching for a Locus in Dwarven territory is inadvisable. That leaves Merfolk territory and Human territory, and out of the two, Human territory presents fewer issues."

"Have your teleportation mages been to any major Human cities before?" Rob asked.

The Overseers paused. "No. The war was fought largely in the open area bordering our respective territories."

Rob frowned. "Then how are their cross-continent teleportation spells going to be accurate? I don't want to get stuck fifty feet underground or something."

"Thanks to information provided by Elder Alessia and Elder Duran, we can roughly estimate the location of major Human cities on a world map. This will allow our mages to fine-tune their spells to a certain degree."

"To a certain degree," Rob parroted.

The Message Crystal crackled with another sigh. "Our alternative is to teleport you into Merfolk territory. Aside from the fact that it is, as a reminder, underwater, we haven't the faintest idea of where their cities are. Human territory is both knowable and breathable."

Everyone fell silent as they went over the logistics. Rob could use Waymark once a day, which meant the teleportation mages would get one chance a day to place him near a Human city. When they failed, he'd Waymark back, and they'd try again every 24 hours going forward until striking gold. Hopefully. It was either that or have him waste time aimlessly traveling through Human territory – probably after being dumped in the middle of fucking nowhere.

"Pardon me," Elder Duran began, breaking the silence. "But is there a reason as to why we're focusing so intently on cities? Loci of Power can appear anywhere in the world."

"Very rarely. It's much more likely that they're found within large population centers – or rather that large population centers naturally form around them over time." A note of surprise entered the Overseers' tone. "I must admit that I expected a man as well-read as you to be aware of that."

"Oh, I am," Duran replied. "I'm merely surprised that no one mentioned the known Loci of Power in Merfolk territory that have been cataloged as existing apart from major cities." He scratched his chin again. "I suppose that there's little point in considering them for our purposes, what with being submerged fully underwater, but..."

The Elder trailed off, eyes sweeping across the room as he took in the audience of shocked faces. "Ah," Duran belatedly realized. "No one else knew of them? Well, the listing was contained in a particularly verbose novel that would give the average reader pause."

Elder Alessia put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "Duran."

Rob watched, head spinning, as the beardless Elf cleared his throat. "Right. To summarize: if you give me a map, I will be able to mark the locations of several Loci of Power in uncolonized Merfolk territory, one of which is situated relatively close to Fiendish borders."

"How?" The Overseers asked, dumbfounded. "Loci of Power are invisible to the naked eye. Before Rob, our best estimates were just that. Estimates."

Elder Duran beamed with excitement. "Ah, but that's just the thing: Merfolk territory offers a wealth of information in this regard that other territories cannot, resulting in estimates that are close to fact. As you said before, living creatures are drawn to Loci of Power, which is what allowed us to surmise that the Loci are generally found within major population centers."

He held up a finger. "However, lest our scope grow too narrow, it is important to remember that all forms of life are drawn to Loci. That includes indigenous wildlife. As Human territory is...sparse, its non-city Loci were never able to be cataloged, but Merfolk territory exists as a stark contrast to those arid wastelands. As it turns out, deep waters contain an abundance of life; most importantly, the veritable legions of minuscule organisms that the Merfolk have named Krill. These tiny creatures are so ever-present in Merfolk territory that it made tracking their migration patterns a simple task. Where krill congregate in mass numbers – seemingly for no reason whatsoever – a Loci of Power can be found."

"...and you memorized these locations," the Overseer said. "A piece of knowledge that was, until this point in time, entirely useless."

"Knowledge is knowledge," Elder Duran replied, as if stating the obvious. "I only wish that this particular piece of knowledge was of more use to us. Unless Fiends have developed waterbreathing magic that I'm not yet privy to, then alas, I'm afraid that-"

A flash of blue motes lit up the room. Rob tossed the item he'd produced from his Spatial Storage onto the table, stepped back, and indulged in smug satisfaction over the stunned silence that followed. Sorry, Elder Duran, he thought. You had your moment, but no one beats me in pulling unexpected bullshit out of nowhere.

Name: Perfected Ring of Waterdwelling
Description: An Enchanted ring that, when worn, grants the wearer several abilities when entirely submerged underwater. Their swimming speed increases dramatically, they become as maneuverable as a fish swimming through the sea, and they become able to breathe underwater indefinitely.

Rob rolled his shoulders, waiting for everyone to finish reading the item's Description. When they did, he offered them a wide grin, cracking the knuckles on each hand.

"So when do we leave?"

--

Thanks for reading!