Scrap and his crew had struck gold and they knew it. The generational levels of wealth promised them by this namby-pamby baby tutorial was such that Ra’ak Neerian hunting parties were being sent out to comb the surrounding area twenty-four seven. Ordered back out into the unsuspecting experience farm just about as soon as they’d finished dropping off their daily quota.
High level game, ability cubes, and natural growth supplements in high demand back home. Enough so that the lower ranking members of the clique were basically run ragged, in order to meet the demand. Now, of course, it went without saying that such a helter-skelter operation very quickly became a logistical nightmare. Until, that is, a series of goodies were found, lone and unaccounted for. Communication talismans being chief among the more lucrative finds.
From that point onward, no hunting party left camp without at least one communication talisman in their possession. A measure that had an immediate impact on overall productivity. Hard to slack off with your superiors figuratively breathing down your neck. Granted it did give them at least some amount of recourse for when things well and truly went sideways. Great for them, in other words. Not so great for Richard.
Although… considering he was actually using said talismans to hunt them down, it could be argued that it wasn’t especially beneficial for them either.
Numbering seven in total, the flat footed lizard men noisily tramped their way through the forest, chatting casually like they were on a leisurely moonlit stroll. Effectively alerting every beast in the forest to their presence in no uncertain terms. Normally a death sentence but, in these woods, well, they were actually doing quite well for themselves.
“Look. All I’m saying is, if it’d been me, I’d have done things differently,” the Ra’ak Neerian said, entirely oblivious, or else uncaring, of the way the others rolled their eyes.
“Here we go again,” hissed one, followed by a chorus of the reptilian equivalent of groans.
“Look. All I’m saying is, if it were me-”
“Which it wasn’t, I feel compelled to point out-”
“But if it was, all I’m saying is, me personally? I wouldn’t have let her talk to me like that. But that’s just me. In front of my pals? Forget about it. Stabbed my own grandmother for less.”
More groans.
“Is he still harping on about the grandmother thing?”
“He thinks it makes him tough.”
“Doesn’t it?”
“Perhaps if he didn’t immediately start bawling after? You know, like a little-!”
“I’m telling you, for the last time those were tears of joy!”
“Really. It’s okay to grieve, you know.”
“Ha! Me? Grieve?! The old hag’d have to keel over and die first.”
At this, the entire procession slammed to a halt.
“So, hold on a minute, you’re telling me she’s still alive…?”
“Yeah? Who do you think gave me this?”
He gestured towards the long pink scar trailing across one eye.
“I thought you said you got that fending off ruthless slavers.”
“Never was there a more ruthless slave driver than my old gran. Chores from dawn till dusk. I barely got out alive.”
Barging headlong through the brush—sounding like an inebriated rhinoceros—the scaly chatterbox was already anticipating the piteous groans which followed all his little nuggets of wisdom. Nothing to be done, really. There was just no helping some people. Which was why he was caught somewhat off guard when he heard no such thing.
The chatty Cathy smirked. Perhaps there was hope for them after all. The successive series of thumps, followed by muffled cries, put the immediate kibosh on that particular train of thought. Without slowing, switching off his gift of gab, or otherwise signaling he’d caught onto anything suspicious, the Ra’ak Neerian slowly reached for the talisman around his neck. Whatever this was, the boss needed to be put wise asap. Of course it was no use.
A glowing talisman slapped against his wrist when he was nearly halfway to salvation. Binding his arm to his chest, as if with fast acting cement. He tugged. No dice. Then several more slapped over his legs, other arm, mouth, and eyes. His only regret in that moment that he hadn’t been able to close them beforehand.
A childlike, high-pitched voice reaching him from the stinging, burning darkness.
“Hope you’ll forgive me if I go ahead and finish what your old gran started.”
+++
A new group chat has been created: [Moms Anonymous]
[Robin] has joined the chat.
[Gorgeous] has joined the chat.
[Marlene Davis] has joined the chat.
[Eva B. 123] has joined the chat.
[Maya “the Danger” Rodrigues] has joined the chat.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
And so, they did just that. Giving him the cliff notes version of all they’d been made to suffer through in his very brief absence. The longer he read, the more enraged he became. So that, by the end, if he’d been predisposed towards a peaceful solution with regards to their scaly invaders, silly notions such as mercy or common decency had already flown straight out the window. Which only left…
Richard waved away the group chat, to reveal the pitiful creature trussed up like a pig, and lying at his feet. Binding talismans covered their body from head to toe. Securely wrapped up like some Egyptian mummy. Albeit one that was actively trying to shrug off its restraints, but still. Richard’s eyes flashed. Without hesitating he pressed his hand to the talisman binding the creatures mouth. Without thought, he allowed the avaricious impulse he was constantly trying to keep in check run wild.
Greedily, his mana channels lapped up all the mana present in the mana treated paper. Leaving only an ordinary sheet of scribbled on parchment behind. In an instant it disappeared into one of his spacial rings, leaving the Ra’ak Neerian’s air ways clear. It took in a deep breath, made ready to shout, but Richard swiftly intervened. Sticking his arm up to the elbow in the beast man’s serrated maw, he thought he silenced the guy more out of surprise than anything.
That surprise didn’t last long however, before realizations struck, and it’s jaw clamped down hard on his elbow joint—severing the entire forearm from his body in one swift chomp. Or at least, he was sure that’d been the idea. More than four hundred points into Endurance, however, made him a tougher nut to crack than one might expect.
Richard thought he felt more than one tooth come loose in the quick exchange, though the whole of his attention was otherwise preoccupied with pushing out as much of his mana as he thought he could handle. It was arduous, but eventually, the black gunk began to seep from his palm. Where it then took the express train down the intruder’s esophagus. The scaly invader began to choke and thrash.
Normally, Richard would begin to feel at least partially guilty at this point. And yet, for whatever reason, he was feeling exceptionally calm. Eventually the violent thrashing turned to full on convulsions, at which point Richard felt safe in removing his arm. it was a bit tough, what with the way it’s jaw had locked shut, but a couple freshly loosened teeth eventually made the extraction a breeze.
Breathing hard, though not at all due to exertion, Richard very nearly lashed out when his master casually levitated into view. He regarded Richard with a dubious expression.
“You’ve got a little something…” he pointed at his own face all over.
Richard blinked. Wiped away the tiny blood spatters beading his face.
“Thanks. I- uh, don’t know what came over me.”
“Yeah… you said that already. Umm, would you say that was the best use of our time? Going to be kinda hard to interrogate anyone if you kill everyone we come across.”
Richard and his master glanced down at the thrashing Ra’ak Neerian. Foam collecting at the corners of his mouth. Black veins steadily spreading across its face and, undoubtedly, throughout its body.
“I didn’t kill him.”
“Same diff. You know what I mean. He’s not exactly in the optimal state to answer questions.”
Black gunk began to bubble from the lizard man’s nostrils.
“That’s… fair.”
“And neither, for that matter, are the others,” his master glanced pointedly at the six otherbodies.
Each of them lying eerily still, spread out around him like fallen logs. Black veins throbbing at their temples. From far off, deep within the moonlit forest, a solitary branch creaked.
“That’s… also fair. Although in my defense, I need the mana. You know how resource hungry these tabi can be,” Richard gestured towards his two toed boots with the powerful movement ability. “And since normal breathing methods just don’t cut it for me anymore, this really is the only way I have to refuel.”
“Excuses. Fine. Have it your way. Just so you know, though, I’ll be asking the questions next time around.”
“But they can’t see or hear you. What would be the point?”
“Well, obviously you’ll be acting as my sound piece for these interrogations. At least someone has to take this entire thing seriously.”
“So you can get to your shows.”
“So I can get to my shows, correct! Perhaps you’re not such a hopeless pupil after all.”
“I live to please,” Richard deadpanned, before clocking that the Ra’ak Neerian had finished with his thrashing.
Taking in a deep breath, Richard raised both hands towards all seven of the prone bodies, and, after a moments hesitation, let down all the self imposed mental barriers he’d constructed. The only real measures keeping his Avaricious Hyper Conductive Mana Channels in check. Immediately, a nauseating throbbing sensation could be felt from the roots of his hair down to the soles of his feet. A sweeping nausea which coincided with a sudden change in the prone bodies.
Trickles of impure mana streaming from their orifices. At which point, like iron filings to a loadstone, they raced through the air towards his outstretched palms. All of the mana he’d forced down their throats, and much more than that besides. A multitude of weak streams turning to a group of rushing rivers. All of them disappearing without a trace into his arm channels, whereupon they rapidly topped up his core. The entire process unbearable. Constantly feeling like he were on the cusp of regurgitating his lunch.
Only when it was finally over, and he’d clamped down hard on his mana channels’ impulses, did he finally manage to get a hold of his breakfast. Leaning his back against a tree, he gulped down deep, even breaths.
No way it would feel this bad if I was actually supposed to be doing it, right?
His attempt at centering himself was not helped in the least by the notification he received shortly after his little refuel sesh.
*DING!*
?CONGRATULATIONS!?
Through hard work and careful diligence, you have improved the baseline purity of your mana by -1 degrees.
CORE GRADE: {CoRruPT}
(-15 Level Purity)
Yep. That is not right. Not right at all.
Mana purity wasn’t all that tricky to wrap one’s head around. In essence? Not all mana was born equal. There was bad mana, good mana, really good mana, really really good mana, and so on. It all depended on purity. Certain locations, certain crystals, and, he’d even heard that certain worlds straight up possessed higher quality mana than the rest. And with that good good mana came an overall bump in performance. Lvl 5 purity beats lvl 1 purity 99.99% of the time. That sort of thing.
It goes without saying that upgrading one’s purity is a pretty big deal throughout the nigh infinite realms of the multiverse. And as for how one goes about upgrading their baseline purity, basically the quality of mana one naturally regenerates, that was also quite simple. Simply cultivate mana of a certain purity for long enough, and eventually your mana will take on its properties.
Really the hardest part was finding that much higher purity mana in the first place, and not ruining your streak by partaking in less than superior mana in between.
Normally, this was how you’d go about ranking up your core. Upgrading your purity a bit at a time until you reach an upper threshold. At which point your core would go through a metamorphosis, transforming into a vessel that is better in every conceivable way.
Awesome sauce, in other words, and also not at all what Richard was experiencing.
“Are you sure you can’t tell me anything about what it means to have heret-”
His master flashed him a warning look.
“To have my unique strand of mana? Because, well, it looks like my mana… eats other mana. Somehow transforms it into more of itself. Which, I mean, that’s crazy right? It’s crazy. I need you to tell me it’s crazy.”
Whether out of a genuine inability to elaborate, or just plain old spite, his master said nothing.
“Right,” Richard sighed. “This concord of yours is a real pain, you know that?”
“Ha! You don’t know the half of it. They’ve been a thorn in my side for eons. Like HOA but for recalcitrant gods.”
Richard winced.
“Yikes.”
“Tell me about it.”
Richard shoved off of the trunk. Mentally feeling himself out to see if he was ready once more to travel.
“So, I’ve kinda been afraid to ask, but, why, if my unique situation is so taboo that even mentioning it can get even part of a god in trouble, are you, like, not at all concerned by it in the least.”
At this, the spiritual imprint shot him a quizzical glance, then shrugged.
“It isn’t any worse than what I was already planning to teach you, so really, who cares?”
In response to this atomic knowledge bomb, Richard could only stare at his master in slack jawed stupefaction.
Huh. Yeah, that’s a pretty good reason.
“You know, you’ll catch flies if you-”
Richard slammed his mouth shut, while his master simply chuckled. Shaking his head in wonder, and not a small bit of disbelief, Richard retrieved the communication talisman from beneath his shirt. Injecting yet another drop of silver energy into the runes with a whispered word, he watched as the tethers linking it to all the other communication talismans he’d bought sprang into being. Each silver line leading in completely different directions.
Perfect. No, yeah, this is exactly what I wanted.
It was just as he was about to just pick a random direction and go, that a flash caught his eye. On the body at his feet—still breathing, if shallowly—beneath all the binding talismans and less than savory smell, a flashing rectangle could be seen. What could only be the communication talisman the beast man had been reaching for near the very end.
After only a bit of effort, Richard retrieved the strobing golden talisman. Running his hands over the dried ink, he scratched out an inconspicuous symbol, promptly answering the call.
“Ra’ah’keem! You sorry son of an unwashed, blight loving, gutter scrubbing Vacoor. I expected you back here twenty five minutes ago-! I swear to all the gods, if you’re not lying dead in a ditch somewhere, it’s your head, do you hear me?! And so help me, if I catch even a whiff of booze on your breath, I’ll-!”
“Hey, do me a favor and patch me through to your boss. Me and him have got some… unfinished business to attend to.”
Handy. Perhaps his search wouldn’t be so fruitless after all.