The walk back to the manor was quiet. I passed a few fellow wanderers, but we stayed on our own sides of the street. Arriving at Khan Manor’s gate, Paul waved me through and I made my way into the grand entryway. A maid greeted me and said I had a visitor in the dining room. Inside, I found Ester sitting at the long table, reading from a metal tablet. She looked up when I knocked on the doorframe.
“Dai! I came to check on you. I wanted to—after yesterday, I—” she said, tripping over her words. She rose to her feet and clasped her hands in front of her. I waved away the concern.
“It’s fine, Ester. I’m... still the same as yesterday. Bas—mother showed me how to use our aether core this morning,” I said. She shook her head.
“We should talk about it, Dai,” she said softly. She was right and I didn’t like it. A nearby painting of a mountain range was suddenly extremely interesting to me.
“I can’t fix it. I don’t know how,” I said.
“That’s not what I want,” she said, certain. I glanced over at her. She leaned her back against the wall and crossed her arms.
“Did you notice? What you said to me yesterday? You told me that I needed to grieve. You already think of yourself as someone else,” she said, her voice hitching at the end. She took a deep breath before adding, “And you’re right. The boy I knew... is gone.”
“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t—” I began. Ester cut me off.
“Stop it. Did you kill him?” she asked rhetorically, one eyebrow crooked.
Had I? I had heard his shots and gone running, gun in hand. I’d found a man fighting a monster. I could have saved him. Why didn’t I just shoot the demon immediately? Instead, I had stood there like a drooling idiot while Daivon fought for his life against mini-Cthulhu. And I couldn’t tell her—or anyone—about it. At my silence, she charged on.
“No. It’s not your fault, so I’ve made a decision,” she said, projecting confidence. I didn’t trust myself to speak yet, so I gave her a questioning look instead.
“You’re a new person, so I’m going to treat you like one,” she said. She pushed off of the wall, brushed down her skirt, and then stepped closer. Raising her hand in an arcing wave, she said, “Hi, I’m Ester Batai. Nice to meet you.”
Watching the gesture, I chuffed in black humor. She wouldn’t have thought it was so nice to meet me if she had known the truth. I was still using her under false pretense. While I returned the greeting and smiled at her, I wondered: between Layla and me, who was the real vampire?
“I’ve been thinking about joining the Tower,” I said, changing to any other topic. Ester looked surprised but quickly schooled her expression.
“You want to be a mage?” she asked. I shrugged.
“I want to learn about aether and how to use my system better. Modder is flexible and potentially powerful, but I feel like I’m missing something important about it. If I can learn how to throw fireballs, that’s a nice bonus,” I said. Ester laughed.
“You say the strangest things. All of that is mage-work, so the Tower is the perfect place. If only...” she said, stopping short. She coughed before continuing.
“Never mind. The Tower is the right place for all of that. You should apply as an Aspirant! There’ll be a new coterie selected next month,” she said.
She explained the process to me. Each year, a “coterie” of mages was selected to join the Tower. Up to thirty were chosen from everyone that applied—the “Aspirants”, as she called them—and were invited to study in the Tower. I would need to pay a fee to become an Aspirant and then a regular tithe of aether to the Tower if I was selected. It sounded like an application fee and tuition to me.
“I can take you to sit in on one of my classes tomorrow, if you want. It will be a little advanced, but you’d get to see what lectures in the Tower are like—at least for Adepts,” she said.
“Is ‘Adept’ a rank of mage or something? Also, will my system be a problem? I didn’t take Mage when Edacien offered...” I said, concerned.
“Yes, Adept is above Apprentice, which is the rank after Aspirant. Then there’s Master, High Mage, and Archmage. As for your system,” she said, looking off and thinking.
“There’s a difference between being a mage, and having a Mage system. After all, mages existed before the first system was invented. You’ll struggle in some ways, but be better off in others. Some mages—new ones, especially—rely on their systems too much and make themselves useless without them,” she explained.
It made sense. Cheating on a test might work well for getting a passing grade, but it wouldn’t help when I actually needed to use the knowledge for something productive. Still, missing those extra tools would be painful when they really were the best answer to a problem. Maybe I could find a way to enhance Modder so I wouldn’t completely miss out.
The conversation drifted to more mundane topics. She told me she had spent the morning studying in her family’s estate. I gave her more details about my morning escapades. When I told her about exploring the neighborhood, she scoffed and chided me.
“You shouldn’t be wandering around by yourself! What if you get kidnapped again? I can’t keep coming to save you,” she said.
“Funny you should mention that; I found the Dayist temple and had a chat with the old priest,” I said. Ester crossed her arms and gave me a pointed look.
“I’m sure that was enlightening,” she said, sarcasm dripping.
“Hey—I made that joke!”
“Everyone makes that joke, Dai. It’s an obvious pun, plain as day.”
“...You have a lot of these, don’t you?”
“Sky’s the limit.”
“That one was a little weak.”
“Are you questioning my brilliance?”
“No, I was just—that was another one, wasn’t it?”
“In truth, I have not yet begun your illumination.”
I chuckled at her antics and shook my head. It almost felt normal to banter with her. We took seats at the table and shared a laugh. Despite my best efforts to remain distant and guarded, I found that Ester was easy to talk to. The circumstances of our first meeting hung over my head like a guillotine, but I just about succeeded at ignoring it.
“What’s the story with the Dayists? I asked the priest, but his answer... left a lot to be desired,” I asked. Ester fought down a mischievous smirk and adopted a contemplative look.
“Dayists revere the day—specifically, the light of day, from before the Repose. They say that decadence and our lack of respect for the Day caused the sun to grow jealous and withdraw its light from the world. Now, we have to all sit around in great big circles and talk about how wonderful and lovely the sun is—that will make it happy and give us light again,” she said, failing to disguise the derision in her tone.
“Don’t you think the sun is just taking a nap?” I challenged. She looked taken aback.
“It’s not the same! I don’t study astronomy, so I listen to the rulings of the High Mages of Astronomy. They spend their careers studying the sun and the Repose. I’d rather put my trust in experts than some feel-good nonsense,” she said. I held up my hands and shrugged.
“All that says to me is that astronomy is not a serious discipline here. Look, the sun is just a giant ball of hot gas in the sky—it’s not going to ‘wake up’ on its own one day. Someone has to find out what’s wrong with it and fix it, or we’ll have to get a new planet to live on,” I said. I knew this was dangerous territory, but I needed to get the idea planted if she was ever going to come around. Ester looked appalled at my casual dismissal of the High Mages.
“What makes you think you know more than anyone else about the sun? You didn’t even remember my name two days ago!” she said, heated.
“I can’t say—I just know. You and the Dayists are both anthropomorphizing an inanimate thing, just for different reasons. I don’t know what those ‘experts’ are thinking. Maybe they’re lying to avoid causing a panic. Maybe they don’t want to admit to being just as ignorant as everyone else. The reason doesn’t matter; they’ll get us all killed eventually if they don’t start working on a solution,” I said, keeping my tone as even as possible. Ester clenched and unclenched her hands until finally huffing and rolling her eyes.
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. What else did the Dayist tell you?” she said. Feeling frustrated but without any good options, I let the redirection stand. I leaned back in my chair.
“Not much. I tried asking him about Urallites, but he wasn’t happy about it,” I said. Her expression shifted from guarded neutrality to unrestrained mirth in a flash. She laughed for nearly twenty seconds straight. It started to annoy me after a while.
“No, no! You did NOT do that! What were you thinking?” she said, still giggling.
“I wanted to learn about whoever kidnapped me! And I only know like... six people,” I said defensively. She put an honest effort into looking sympathetic, but fell short by several astronomical units.
“What did he say about them?” she asked. I told her how that conversation ended and she nodded knowingly.
“Urallites were once Dayists, but they follow the teachings of their ‘great prophet’, Dagmyth Urall. No one knows who she is—not publicly, anyway—but we know her message too well. She claims that the old archmages caused the Repose by stealing aether from the sun, angering it. Now her little cult goes around killing mages—and anyone, really—to ‘return their stolen life’ to the sun,” Ester said in a hushed tone.
Daivon hadn’t been a mage. Did they target him for a reason, or was he just that lucky? All the Urallites I knew were dead, so it would be a while before I could get more answers. I wasn’t sure how demons fit into the equation yet, but it wasn’t hard to imagine a murderous cult branching out into new markets.
We talked for a while longer. I mostly told her about the things I found while exploring and she filled in some details. The empty lot was a dueling arena—a popular pastime among some young men. The amphitheater was a popular hangout spot and occasionally put on plays or debates. I let her laugh at me as I explained the everyday things I had struggled with—turning on the lights in my room, for example.
“I should be heading home,” Ester said, standing. I rose and walked with her to the door.
“How should I find you normally? Is there a way for me to call you from far away?” I asked. She paused in front of the door, thinking.
“You can relay a message through the Tower—my family has an interlink with them too. That can be costly, though, so the best way is to walk over and hope I’m in a mood to see you,” she said with a playful smile.
“Walk over where?” I asked. She slapped her forehead ruefully. A new pin appeared in the black part of my map, marked “Batai Manor”. It was about a half-hour walk away, past the Dayist temple. We might have run into each other if I had left later. I thanked her and promised to visit tomorrow so she could take me to the Tower. She left, waving to Paul as she exited the gate and turned onto the border street.
I had a lot to think about. She wasn’t budging on the sun issue—for now. I made a note to learn more about this world’s astronomy studies. She would see the truth eventually, along with everyone else—assuming the sun wasn’t actually a dragon or some other similar insanity. If I was invited into the Tower, we would see a lot more of each other, and I’d need to learn to see her as a friend. Maybe we could grow past the sins of my second birth—with effort. Time would tell.
Looking for a change of scenery, I left the manor and followed the path around to the unobtrusive workshop in the back. Nothing had moved since the morning. I pulled out a stool and sat at a clear section of counter. The metal was as chilly as the rest of the shed and my breath fogged the surface when I rested my head on it.
Enjoying the peace and security, I took the opportunity to pick through my system’s menus. The Utilities list was still lengthy and full of things I didn’t recognize—I would need to play with them at some point. Near the end, I hit the jackpot: there was a Time utility that allowed me to set up a clock. Without hesitation, I enabled it and toyed with the settings until it was positioned in the upper-right periphery of my vision, but was only visible when I glanced in that direction. The time changing could come across as movement and distract me at the worst moment, so it was best to avoid the possibility altogether.
One frustration resolved, I had high hopes as I continued perusing. There was a “Constructs” section, but selecting it showed an empty list. I’d need to ask around to find out what these were—Ester would probably know. The name made me think of robots and golems. Could Modder let me become a robomancer? Having a small army of drone bodyguards didn’t sound like a bad idea. I recalled the Stalker attack on the Inquisition convoy and reconsidered. Maybe just one or two mechanical soldiers. With kill-switches. And replaceable batteries.
Continuing my exploration, I found a menu labeled “Core Connectivity Configuration”. Inside, there were options to customize how aether devices were displayed in my vision. I set them to “Always Visible” and blinked as a dozen new icons appeared around the room. Each pointed to a different tool and I had a revelation: they had power tools in here! It should have been obvious earlier, but only some of the tools even vaguely resembled their Earth counterparts. I took stock of them all and my mind raced with increasingly unlikely things I could make. Another victory for robomancy!
My winning streak came to an end when I tried to set up target tagging and tracking, inspired by the manor’s security. Through my navigation utility, I was able to setup pins in 3D space and make them visible to me at all times, but I couldn’t find a way to make the pin attach to an object and follow it around. It was still an interesting feature, but not the “enemy radar” I was hoping for. It looked like the old Mark-1 Eyeball would have to do for now.
Giving up, I checked my todo list. The only things I had left for today were practicing with the aether lance and talking to Layla. Layla would show up sometime in the late evening, and I still had hours before then. The workshop didn’t have a convenient firing range inside, unfortunately. The manor’s guards all carried long lances, so they must have practiced somewhere.
I sought out Paul at his post near the gate. He was wearing the same dark-green uniform as always and was drinking something hot while his lance rested against the fence. We exchanged greetings and I broached my question.
“Where’s a good place for me to practice with my lance? I don’t want to get rusty,” I asked. He finished a sip of his drink and glanced at his own weapon.
“The guildhall’s still the best option,” he said. Before I could ask, he added, “ah, that’s the Adventurers’ guildhall, over in the Red district.”
Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
“Think they’d let me in still? I don’t have an Adventurer system anymore,” I said. Paul shrugged.
“Shouldn’t matter, plenty of folks with other systems there—mages, scouts, scavengers, what-have-you. Hadrian’ll recognize you, anyhow. Best you don’t take your lance with you; carrying it’s allowed, but that don’t stop the Kingsmen from giving you trouble if you don’t have an Emblem displayed from the guild,” he warned.
I thanked him and asked for directions to the guildhall. He marked it on my map and told me to follow the main roads there instead of trying to cut through the back alleys. The Kingsmen rarely patrolled out there and it was a good way to find trouble.
The route to the Adventurers’ guild was long and busy. The city’s citizens were out and travelling in large crowds. I found a group headed in the same direction I needed to go and I trailed behind them, letting them clear the way. We passed the market in front of the Tower and I broke off to the West. My destination was a straight shot down a wide road.
As I got closer, I saw a large red arch over the road. It was a thin metal lattice spanning the distance over the whole street with lanterns hanging from the lower bars. A group of four Kingsmen were stood under the arch and eyed people coming through in both directions. They didn’t stop anyone, and no one gave them a second look. I followed the crowd’s lead and passed under the arch. A familiar message popped up a few paces past the Kingsmen.
ID query override received, responding.
It wasn’t clear if they were scanning everyone or if I hadn’t blended in as well as I’d hoped. Nonetheless, they didn’t stop me and I continued unimpeded. The pin on my map was getting closer and I drifted to the side of the street where I expected to find the guildhall.
The building was surprisingly plain for an Adventurers’ guild in a magic world. It was a large grey building made from stone with wrought iron accents. A set of steps led up a half-level above the ground to a pair of large double doors with thin floor-length windows on either side. Each of its five stories were decorated with red-painted bricks marking their floors. If they added a wheelchair ramp, it would have been indistinguishable from any municipal bank in a relatively large city.
I pushed my way through the doors and my impression of a bank intensified. To the right, there was a long row of counters separated from the main room by glass walls with slots in them. A pair of bored-looking clerks sat on high-backed chairs behind the counters, chatting. The pattern broke when I looked to the left. There was a large, open room filled with rows of tables and chairs like every school cafeteria and mess hall I’d ever been in.
Groups of armed and armored people sat in small clusters around the room. There were no uniforms; everyone had unique and varied equipment ranging from thick padded clothing to full suits of plate armor. Weapons were roughly split evenly between medieval melee weapons—swords, axes, spears, even one guy with a trident—and aether lances. A few daring souls wore no armor at all, only thin robes or normal clothing. I guessed some of these must be mages, but I wasn’t sure about others. Did armor interfere with magic, or did they just have better options to protect themselves?
“Hey, Khan!”
I looked over to where the shout came from. A young man wearing a shiny breastplate and carrying a large sword across his back was standing and waving at me. Three other people were sitting near him and looked over at me—two men and a woman. I walked over and the first man spoke for the group.
“We thought you’d died! No one’s seen you in a week—where’ve you been?” he asked. Before giving me a chance to answer, he frowned and added, “hey, did you break our link?”
“My system died and I had to get a new one. Lost all my links—and most of my memories,” I explained, holding up my hands.
“Your system died?!” two of the men exclaimed at the same time.
“Most of your memories?!” the woman added in. All of them looked at each other, then at me.
“Yeah, it was... an ordeal. Can’t talk about it. And I don’t remember anything from before two days ago, so... who are all of you?” I said, wincing as I asked the last. There were shocked looks all around, but the first man recovered before the others and beamed.
“No memories, huh? Well then, I’ll be happy to reintroduce you to our band of highly professional treasure hunters. I’m, of course, Carl, your best and most favorite friend in the entire world. Tall and brooding over there is Monty, our chief henchman and chef. We keep Deckard around as a charity case—the monster bites might improve his looks,” he said, pointing to each of the men in turn. Monty was wearing a large coat with metal plates sewn into it and carried an even larger sword than Carl, easily a head taller than me. Deckard had painted plate armor with a shield strung across his shoulders and a warhammer at his side.
“And that leaves the lovely Sabine, your adoring and dutiful wife,” he said, grinning at the woman in question. She glared venomous daggers at him. Sabine wore woven cloth armor that hugged her body and she carried a long aether lance in a sling over her shoulder. She turned to me and waved a dismissive hand towards Carl.
“He’s worse at lying than he is at dice—and I’ve never seen him win at dice. Ever,” she said. Carl put on a show of being hurt and offended. In the meantime, Sabine sent me a request.
Connection request from: Adventurer (Ranged) “Sabine Rooks”
I accepted and her face screwed up in confusion.
“Modder? I’ve never heard of it—what is this system?” she asked. Her question prompted the others to send me requests as well.
Connection request from: Adventurer (Melee) “Carl Mannerheim”
Connection request from: Adventurer (Melee) “Monty Montante”
Connection request from: Guardian “Deckard Albright”
I told them what I knew about Modder. There were mixed reactions between thoughtful and confused. Deckard spoke first.
“I like it. We were always short on utilities, and you can still stand back with Sabine and shoot,” he said. My eyebrows shot up and I interrupted before he could continue.
“Woah, hold on! I’m not convinced I want to go adventuring anytime soon. I had to kill a demon, and more monsters sound—” I started explaining. All of the adventurers swore and jumped away from me as if I had dropped a live grenade on the table, knocking over chairs and reaching for weapons. I backed away, eyes wide. The rest of the room had gone quiet and were looking at us. Carl ground his teeth and gave me a hard look.
“What exactly do you mean, you ‘killed a demon’, Daivon?” he asked with forced calm.
“I... shot it, it fell to the ground, I shot it again, and it stopped moving. What’s happening right now?” I asked. Monty shook his head.
“No one kills demons just like that,” he said.
“It takes specialized teams, along with Memeticist support to prevent corruption. Even then, demon hunter teams have the lowest survival rate. Are you absolutely certain it was a demon?” Sabine asked. I shrugged.
“It was a floating ball of scales with eleven tentacles and seven eyes. It bled black ichor. When I told the High Inquisitor about it, he called it a strong demon,” I said, uncertain. The adventurers exchanged looks and relaxed. Hands drifted away from weapons and they picked up the toppled chairs. Deckard waved to the rest of the room and they gradually resumed their conversations.
“The Inquisition checked you, then? Made sure you don’t have anything... extra in your weave?” Carl asked.
“Yeah, they had me use a weird device. It made me feel like I was naked in front of the entire world,” I recalled with a shudder.
“Oh—that’s a relief. Since you’re here, they didn’t find any corruption,” he said, awkwardly sitting down again. The others joined him, except Sabine, who gave me an intense look.
“You killed a demon—with seven eyes—by yourself? And all you lost was your system and some memories?” she asked, sounding impressed. I looked away from her. Daivon had done most of the fighting, and he’d lost quite a bit more than I had.
“Something like that,” I dissembled. She slowly joined the others but kept an eye on me.
“Dai, my friend—if you’re killing elder demons all alone, then just imagine how much treasure we’ll find in the next expedition!” Carl said with renewed enthusiasm. I sighed.
“I don’t think I’m ready to face more monsters just yet,” I said. He made calming noises towards me while forcing a smile.
“Woah, woah! Don’t be so pessimistic, bestest buddy of mine! You can’t let one little demon get between us and unfathomable wealth. You wouldn’t let your steadfast and loyal friends—not to mention your gorgeous and generous wife—sit out in the cold, would you?” Carl nagged. Sabine looked like she might actually shoot him.
“Look, I’ll think about it—no promises. What is this ‘expedition’, anyways, and when is it?” I said. Carl dramatically wiped his forehead and sat back in his chair. Deckard answered in his place.
“It’s next week. Teams make the trip beyond the barrier and search a section of the wastes for anything valuable,” he said.
There had been Stalkers beyond the barrier, and they had given the whole Inquisition convoy a hard fight. We’d made it through without losing anyone, but I wasn’t eager to see more of them yet. I still didn’t know why there were ruins out there to begin with. Couldn’t they expand the barrier, or wipe out the Stalkers over time?
My musings were interrupted when a middle-aged man wearing a bright red vest approached our table. He had salt-and-pepper hair and a small aether lance at his hip. He fixed on me with a curious look.
“Daivon. It’s good to see you well. You aren’t showing as a guildmember. Is there a problem with your system?” he asked. I repeated my explanation to him—minus the demon fighting. He furrowed his brow and frowned.
“I see. That is... unfortunate. I can invite you to the guild and grant you an emblem, but I’m afraid no one can help with your contribution points. Your system stores them, and with it destroyed... you will have to start from zero. I’m sorry; there’s nothing anyone can do about it,” the man said. I sent him a quick request.
Connection accepted from: Professional “Hadrian Bellsmith”
“That’s fine; I’ve had to do that with a lot of things these past few days. What’s your role here, Hadrian?” I asked.
“Ah, of course—no memories. I am the Fixer for this team, and others. I secure jobs for them on behalf of the guild and ensure they are appropriately compensated—for a small fee,” he said. It sounded like he was the manager for a band. He didn’t carry himself like a clueless middleman. He’d be a good person to know if he was really that connected to the guild.
“As much as I would enjoy being harassed more about joining the expedition, I actually came here looking for a place to practice with some lances. Is there somewhere like that around here?” I asked the group. Hadrian nodded.
“Yes, the top floor has all of our training facilities. I can show you the way, if you’d like,” he said. Carl pointed to one of the unoccupied chairs and gave me a pleading look. Sabine rolled her eyes and waved me away.
“Go, Dai. We can catch up later. You should see where you stand with your new system,” she said. With a few parting words, I turned and followed Hadrian towards the tall staircase.
The Fixer led me up four flights of stairs to the top floor. Most of the level was filled with small, empty rooms with glass doors. We walked down a long hallway and reached the far end with a heavy steel door on one side and a pair of glass doors on the other. The glass doors led to a long open area with lines painted on the ground forming even lanes all the way to the back. There were no targets or benches, but it looked like a decent firing range to me. Hadrian went to the steel door instead.
“This is the armory. Buck is in charge and will lend you training tools. You will need to provide your own aether while training,” he said. I thanked him and he left back down the hall. I pushed the door open and entered the armory.
A huge man sat at a desk inside a metal cage that took up most of the room. He looked up from a metal tablet he was reading and gave me a curt nod. Behind him, a huge variety of weapons were stored on racks and shelves. Swords and lances were arranged by size while other weapon types had their own sorting system.
“What do you need today, Khan?” he asked. His voice was gruff and gravelly, as if he could smash boulders by shouting at them.
“I’m looking to practice with some lances,“ I said. He gave me a nonplused look.
“What kind of lances?” he asked.
“What are my options?” I returned. He rolled his shoulders and stood up.
“We’ve got all kinds of lances; short lances, long lances; efficiency, power, variable-charge; fire, lightning, force—even one of those new ‘concussive’ lances the Tower cooked up,” he rattled off.
“How’s the new one?” I asked.
“Garbage. Can’t blow holes in things; can’t knock people out reliably; drinks aether like a glutton. No sane man would use it,” he said flatly.
“Then... why did they make it?” I asked, incredulous. He shrugged.
“Beats me. Some men’ve got more brains than sense. So, what’ll it be?” he prodded. I hesitated, thinking about my old handgun.
“Do you have anything with a high rate of fire and capacity?” I asked. Buck scratched his chin while looking over the armory’s stock.
“Yeah, there’re a few options. You have to give something up for those features, though,” he said distractedly. He picked up a long lance with sleek lines made from bronze.
“Flame-spitter. Low power and middling range, but it’ll send small jets of fire out faster than you could pull the trigger,” he said, holding it up for me to look. After a few seconds, he returned it to its place and picked up another. It was shiny silver, with straight lines and a bulky stock.
“Arc thrower. High power, short range, and it’ll happily drain every drop of aether from you in a few seconds if you let it—but it’s technically unlimited in capacity and fire rate. As long as you have aether, it’ll keep zapping,” he said. I admired its deadly construction until Buck swapped it for one more lance. This one was short and shaped like an old pepperbox pistol with eight barrels.
“Blaster. Versatile, with a variable charge enchantment for each barrel. More charge, more power and range, less aether efficiency. You can fill and fire each barrel independently or all at once. Eight shots before needing to refill is still excellent,” he said. It was a tough decision.
“They all seem good in their own way. I wish I had some numbers to work with,” I said. Buck shrugged.
“Get yourself an analysis construct. Adventurers always say it’s a waste of aether, but there’s no better way to get details on enchantments and aether devices,” he said. I perked up.
“Where would I get one from—or any combat constructs?” I asked.
“They’ve got some downstairs, if you have the points to buy them. Combat constructs don’t come cheap,” he said skeptically. Sighing, I made a note to check later, if I ever got any of the points they kept mentioning. With Buck’s help, I decided to try out the eight barreled lance. He brought it over to me through a slot in the cage and I hefted it.
Small aether lance (Force, 0%)
Not much information. It read almost the same as the one I had back in the manor despite being a completely different weapon. Buck was right about that analysis construct; if it let me understand my tools and weapons better, it would pay for itself. I looked over the weapons he had suggested—something wasn’t adding up.
“If everyone can have one of these, why do they all carry the basic lances instead?” I asked. Buck raised an eyebrow.
“Last time I checked, you run a standard force lance too. Besides, not everyone can have one of these—they’re all pricey. And they’re all Adventurer lances; they’ll struggle against even weak mage-armor. Guess what monsters don’t have?” he said pointedly.
“If you think you might have to fight a mage—or someone with enchanted gear—then you can’t beat the efficiency of a Laminar-pattern force lance. Cost effective, high power, good range, easy to manufacture; the world may never get another genius like Laminar,” he said, drifting into wistfulness. I looked nervously at the heavy weapon in my hands.
“Just how expensive are we talking about here?” I said, holding it up. Buck laughed.
“That lance alone costs more contribution points than your whole team has made in their careers so far,” he said.
“Why would you give it to me, then?!” I asked, exasperated. Buck shrugged indifferently.
“It’s not like you can run off with it; the guild knows where you live. You asked for high rate of fire and capacity, not affordability. These are your options,” he said.
After some recriminations and Buck’s completely unapologetic dismissal thereof, I took three lances: one in the standard rifle-style, a small one like the one I owned, and the eight-barreled monster gun. The first two were more realistic options that I was likely to use in the near-future, and the last one was just for fun. I had “relax?” on my todo list; why not live a little?
The range’s spartan appearance was misleading. When I approached the front of the lanes, generic device icons appeared over the lines on the floor. Looking closer, I saw there were small magic circles carved into the ground and then painted over, just barely visible if I squinted.
Connection accepted from: Lane 01
The lane had options for displaying targets anywhere along its length. When I selected one, the lane prompted me to give it aether. After some fumbling and searching, I attached one of my medium containers to the lane’s magic circle and it took a small portion of aether. When it finished, a stream of blue-green smoke flowed from tiny holes in the ceiling and coalesced into a disk twice the size of my hand about ten paces away. It hung in the air, perfectly still and silent.
I placed the two smaller lances on the ground behind me and studied the long lance. Even though I had seen some of these in action, it still looked like a musket from the Napoleonic wars to me—minus the firing mechanism. This one was made from brass with a grey barrel. I lifted the stock to my shoulder and pointed it towards the target. It was heavy for a gun, and there were no rear sights. It didn’t matter at this range, but hitting longer shots was going to be trouble. I pulled the trigger.
Click.
Nothing happened. I looked down at the lance and tilted it to the side out of habit. There was no chamber for me to check, but the port on the back wasn’t glowing. Nearly slapping myself, I checked the weapon display in my vision and saw that the outline of a gun was completely empty. No ammo.
I searched around the weapon and found a magic circle on the bottom, directly under the empty port. Taking out my other medium aether container, I attached it to the circle and watched as the port came to life and grew brighter. Soon, my charge display was full. I took aim once more and squeezed the trigger.
BOOM!
A bolt of blinding light flew out of the muzzle and exploded against the target, shattering it into a cloud of dissipating mist. The port stopped glowing and my charge display instantly emptied. A pair of new messages popped up and dinged.
New skill acquired: Aether Lances
Aether Lances increased: 1 -> 16
That was interesting. I hadn’t received any skills or skill levels since first integrating my system, but I had done plenty of things since then. How did it determine what skills I had, and what did gaining levels mean? I had jumped straight to 16 with my first shot, and it wasn’t a hard one. Did everyone level this fast, or was it recognizing some of my firearms experience as well?
I made more targets and practiced shooting them with the long lance. The following few shots didn’t increase my skill level. I swapped to the small standard lance and practiced with those two weapons for over an hour. The loud booms followed by periods of silence became a steady rhythm as I got into the groove. By the end, I was able to raise either lance and shoot on target almost as fast as I could with my old handgun—at least for the first shot.
Aether Lances increased: 16 -> 18
My aether storage was starting to run low, so I ended my training for the day. There was only one thing left to do. I picked up the expensive, eight-barreled lance and filled it with aether. It took much longer and I found it had additional options for setting its charge per barrel. Naturally, I set them all to maximum.
Eight targets materialized at increasing ranges and I grinned to myself. This was just for fun, not serious practice. The lance was heavy and bulky for its small length, but I had no problem lifting it and bringing the first target into line. One light trigger-pull and the target was obliterated. To my surprise, the entire barrel assembly rotated to bring the next barrel in line with the top of the lance.
Target after target scattered to the wind as I blasted them as quickly as I could move my hands. The lack of gun-smoke to dramatically blow away was disappointing, but I still laughed like a maniac. I’d handled guns on Earth with much higher magazine capacities, but something about this magic laser gun gave me an unsuppressible, childlike joy.
I made sure each lance was empty before picking them all up. Coming here had been an inspired idea. Shooting was great stress-relief, even if I had never aspired to be an expert marksman in my previous life. The only thing left on my list for today was to talk to Layla again, and that didn’t seem as daunting as it had that morning.
I was halfway to the range’s exit with that thought in mind when all of the lights cut out and I was plunged into near complete darkness.