Getting Ready for the Party

Note: And that concludes the relatively mediocre combat arc! I hope you were able to enjoy it as much as you could, but next time the combat will be so much more satisfying! If you stuck through, the story's going to start to get better from here on out as this is where I began to really figure out this whole writing business, and by chapter 30, it'll go balls to the walls crazy and amazing. Enjoy!

  Artyom arrived back in town and made his way to the inn he was staying at. With the injuries he’d sustained from his mission, it was quite difficult. What had to be several fractured ribs didn’t impede his combat ability too much, but that plus his massive concussion made his trek back to the inn utter hell.

  “Never again,” he thought to himself. “Oh, this world is full of dummies! This is a beginner area full of weak monsters! This cave is just full of Kobolds that I could sneak right past!” He said to himself in a mocking tone.

  “And so I just assumed the dungeon was going to be a cakewalk! Man, Gus is going to chew me out when I report all this to him. But not before gloating about how he told me that something was wrong with this place.”

  Artyom opened the door to the inn and dragged himself to the stairs leading to his room, when someone called out to him.

  “Woah, eater guy, what happened to you?” asked one of the inn’s patrons, the one in the red shirt and leather apron.

  “So that’s my nickname now, huh?” thought Artyom to himself. “Well, it beats ‘Kobold fodder’.”

  Artyom turned towards the man and answered him simply. “I went for a walk and got… mauled by a bear.” He didn’t need these guys laughing at him too.

  “A bear? Did you walk off the road or something? Everyone knows that the forests around here are dangerous!”

  “Does it matter now?” asked another patron indignantly. It was the priestess from the other day. “He’s obviously in terrible shape. Here, let me help you.”

  She walked over to Artyom and raised a hand to him, before beginning to chant. A bright white light with gray motes extended from her and made contact with Artyom, healing his wounds. As soon as they touched him, Artyom began to feel the pain subside, both in his body and head. They were replaced by a profound sense of ease and contentment.

  “Uh, thank you,” said Artyom, grateful for the healing.

  “Don’t worry about it, it’s our duty as servants of the Goddess to heal those who need it, with no expectations of anything in return.”

  Free magical healthcare, while harder to find in the less innocent Worlds, was something Artyom truly appreciated. “But really, thank you. Aranyani is really wonderful for setting this up.”

  “Who?” asked the priestess.

  “Your Goddess,” replied Artyom, confusion on both of their faces.

  “That’s not our Goddess’ name, maybe you’re confused with another priestess?”

  Artyom processed this, and simply nodded. “I guess you’re right, my bad.” He ended the conversation there and retired to his room for the night. Magical healing or not, he’d still taken a massive beating and wanted to sleep off his exhaustion.

  The night was uneventful. After forcing down the second half of the nutrition bar he’d already half eaten, Artyom thought about the nature spirit he’d encountered, this supposed taint, and the apparent existence of two major divines who apparently have nothing to do with each other. He quickly dozed off, those ideas gently swirling around his mind, as he fell asleep to an even quieter radio silence.

  Artyom awoke the next morning and made his report to Gus, making sure to erect privacy wards around his room to prevent eavesdropping. He told Gus everything that had happened in the past two days, not skipping over any detail, despite how embarrassing it was. He knew better than to hide potentially vital information from someone who was trying to help him.

  “It appears my fears have been confirmed,” said Gus, in his robotic voice. Despite his monotony, Artyom could make out a hint of worry. Perhaps the satisfaction of being right or fear of the situation overrode any anger he felt for Artyom acting lax and paying the price for it?

  “Yup, not an everyday thing,” replied Artyom. “Does this change the mission in any way? Because if it does, the original goal is still my first priority.”

  “Of course, finding out if this hero is in fact from Earth, and if so then what brought him here, are of the utmost priority. If there are going to be any changes to the mission, then it’ll have to come from the other teams involved and voted on by the executive council. The research team in charge of the Universal Psychic Scanner are probably going to want you to investigate this taint to see if there’s a way the UPS can work around it. So if it isn’t too much trouble, you should start looking into that as well.”

  “Well, the problem is, I don’t even know where to start with that. Like, no idea at all. This tree spirit’s been the only one who knows anything about what’s going on, and she flew the coop before getting anything useful out.”

  “In that case, I suppose you can just hope that the answers will appear before you in time. Once this mission is declassified to the rest of TOAL, we’ll probably send a research team down there to figure out what this ‘taint’ is for real. But that won’t happen until you finish your mission and I deem that World safe, and that will only be after you figure out what’s really going on.”

  “Yeah. Is there anything else?” asked Artyom.

  “Two things. First, I looked up Aranyani in our archives and found a match. She’s a Hindu goddess, one associated with nature, plant cultivation, and feeding people. Makes sense that she’d be associated with a banana tree. But there’s nothing about the other goddess you mentioned. I had Sheila look up the clothing and symbols that her priests and priestesses wear, and we’ve got nothing. Must be a deity specific to that World. Why there’s only knowledge of one but not the other isn’t something I can explain easily, but Occam’s razor would suggest that it could be something simple like a lack of proliferation of the knowledge of competing religions and deities. Maybe Aranyani is worshipped far away, and nobody where you’re at knows about her, and vice versa?”

  “Maybe, but you’re the one who’s always on about how Occam’s razor doesn’t apply when magic is involved.”

  “So you do listen to me,” said Gus, pleased at Artyom’s response. “While Occam’s razor says that the simplest solution is the most likely, nothing I’ve encountered since my own summoning has ever been simple. So I’m going to double down on my warnings to be careful. Which brings me to my last point.”

  “Alright, what’s that?”

  “Artyom, you’re a dumbass,” said Gus, his cadence perfectly carrying his feelings across. “You almost got killed by Kobolds?”

  “Hey, it wasn’t the Kobolds who almost did me in! Even if they were working better than many of the teams I’ve trained, it was their foreman who was the real threat.”

  “The boss monster of a low level area full of low level enemies,” clarified Gus.

  “I’ve seen boss monsters before,” replied Artyom, “and he was something else entirely. I’ve gone up against some powerful spellcasters, and he was up there. While he was rough on the fundamentals, he was slugging enough raw power around to take out an army!”

  “So were you,” replied Gus.

  “Yeah, but… do you remember that one Archmage that dug a massive tunnel through an entire mountain in a week?”

  “Yeah?”

  “This guy could give her a run for her money with the power he was slinging around. This was an endgame-level threat, the kind an adventuring team with over a decade of specialized training would think twice about before taking on, even with preparation!”

  Gus paused for a second. “But my point still stands. That tree spirit could’ve killed you after getting brained by that foreman. That battle nearly cost you your life! You knew to be careful, and you dropped the ball. Hard.”

  Artyom winced at the semi-monotonous tirade, but took the words to heart. “Yeah, you’re right. I definitely messed up there because I underestimated the threat, and didn’t take any time to scout or prepare properly. It won’t happen again.”

  “After that beating, I’m sure you’ve learned your lesson. I’m confident it won’t.”

  “Thanks.”

  “But I have to ask, is there a chance you’re starting to be affected by this ‘taint’ yourself?”

  Artyom remained silent.

  “In case you are, I want you to cast mental shielding spells on yourself every day.”

  Artyom grunted affirmatively and did just that. Psychic Shielding. He remained quiet after that.

  “Artyom, what is it?” asked Gus.

  “Well, I did what you asked and cast Psychic Shielding on myself and well… I feel a little bit sharper.”

  “Well that’s not good,” replied Gus matter-of-factly. “At least we know mental shielding can protect you against it somewhat. I’m going to take a psychic scan of you now anyway and compare it against your baseline we took before you started the mission.”

  “Wait, when did you-”

  “When you got a call to come talk to me to get this assignment. There wasn’t much time so I used a portable scanner back then,” interrupted Gus. “And… that should be the second scan done now. Everything looks the same between them too.”

  “That’s a relief,” replied Artyom. “Though I think I might double down and cast Psionic Barrier after this call to see if it also affected my body, like the tree spirit said the taint does. Speaking of which, she said I wasn’t affected by it, but here we are.”

  “Who knows, maybe it was something else affecting you? Either way, it’s time you started acting like me.”

  “You mean paranoid?”

  “Exactly.”

  Artyom paused again. “Alright.”

  Gus waited a moment before trying to break the silence. “You have to admit, our techies really outdid themselves with these phones, with how easy it is to take a psychic scan of you from all the way here.”

  “Uh, yeah, they sure did,” replied Artyom awkwardly. “If only they’d included an artillery spell inside it or something.”

  “The portal beacon built in can do much better than that, you know. We can deploy supplies and reinforcements quickly enough that we don’t need to fit weapons inside of it.”

  “Yeah, but it’s the principle of the matter!” whined Artyom, getting back into the conversation. “But speaking of deploying supplies, I think I’m going to need some right now. I still haven’t gained any levels, even after that fight, so I’ll need something to make up for the lack of System assistance if I’m going to be up against something like that foreman again.”

  “Hmm… alright. I’ve already taken the liberty to requisition some enchanted gear ahead of time, in case something like this happened.”

  “Wow Gus, you never disappoint! I bet that’s what the ladies say too,” said Artyom, attempting to tease him with some very low-brow humor.

  “It seems I have to remind you again that I’m not interested in women that way,” replied Gus. “Besides, I don’t have time to spare for a relationship.”

  Artyom vindictively smiled to himself, happy to have struck a nerve. “Alright, alright. You should seriously take a vacation sometime, though. Anyway, what gear can I expect? Even if it’s just better tasting rations, I’ll be happy.”

  “There’s no time for a vacation when I have to work around the clock to keep you alive,” Gus poked back. “And as for your new gear, there’s a standard issue magical battery and light anti-elemental armor.”

  “Really, that’s it? Even after I told you what’s out there?” asked Artyom incredulously.

  “I only submitted the paperwork for them after your first day, when you told me you were in a low-danger area and didn’t level quickly. With these new revelations, I’ll try and get you something better, but you’re stuck with these in the meantime.”

  Artyom considered the gear he would be getting for a moment. Magical batteries were a way of storing large amounts of magical energy within a physical object, and drawing from it to keep your own magic topped off. It also allowed the casting of much more magic-intensive spells over a longer period of time, letting Artyom make up for the lack of levels. The light armor would be something flexible yet sturdy, like treated leather. Of course, TOAL would probably send him something more exotic and durable, with magical enchantments applied on it to boot.

  In the end, he accepted the temporarily small upgrade without much fuss.

  “Alright, thanks Gus,” said Artyom. “Any chance I could get some more gold as well? I’m pretty much out and there’s this party I need to rent a suit for in a week’s time, which costs 5 gold.”

  “Gold requisitions for scouting missions have to go through additional channels, so it won’t be ready for a while if we still want to keep this operation on the down-low. And we don’t have a suit to spare either,” replied Gus. “Besides, if you’re attending a party, you should have plenty of time to find a job.”

  “Really dude? Do you think I’m just going to parties for fun here? I…” Artyom stopped talking as he realized that Gus had outplayed him. He could picture his shit-eating grin on the other side of the phone. “I swear, Gus. When I get back, there are going to be a lot of reforms.”

  “You do that Artyom. First, let’s just finish this mission.”

  “Sure. Just don’t tell the others about what happened with me and the Kobolds. The Defense Force will never let me live it down.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone,” replied Gus. “However, once this mission is complete and declassified, it’ll host all of the information available, including your briefings. I can’t stop anyone from reading that.”

  “You’re joking, right? Gus?”

  “Goodbye, Artyom. Report back when you make contact with the hero and find out if he really is from Earth.” Gus hung up, and Artyom knew he wasn’t lying about the mission report.

  “Well, it’s going to be a while before I become a laughingstock, so I’d might as well make the most of it until then.”

  Just then, a small circle of glowing runes opened up on the floor beside Artyom, and a plywood box rose out of the ground inside it. As soon as it had fully risen, the circle faded into nothingness. There was the supply drop. Artyom opened the box and found a bracelet with a deep blue gem set in its center, and a matching set of heatscar spider silk shirt and pants. The bracelet was probably the magical battery which would absorb ambient energy when it wasn’t in use, and the clothes had traces of additional magic applied to them to add electrical insulation and magical cooling so they wouldn’t feel sweaty to wear. They were already great thermal insulators, so the two enchantments were a trivial addition. Still, the additional magical protection would give Artyom one less thing to worry about in a fight, and they did look stylish.

  Artyom stretched his body after casting Psionic Barrier on himself, not feeling any different after applying the strongest version of the anti-telepathy spell he knew on himself. He continued his stretches, relieving the knots in his muscles from yesterday’s fight, before relieving himself in the bathroom. As a middle-class inn inside a large town, the place was wealthy and fortunate enough to have indoor plumbing. By a combination of pipes and magic, fresh water was transported all across town. With the engineering prowess needed to design and construct such a utility, Artyom was surprised the people of this world managed it at all, but he was sure some kind of civil engineering class had a Skill that did all of the work for them. This was a case of a heavy-lifting Skill he wasn’t going to complain about.

  When he arrived at the ground floor of the inn ready for breakfast, Artyom remembered he was broke. All of the money he was sent with was spent on food, lodging, and mission preparation. Scouts were generally supposed to integrate themselves with the society they were studying, and expected to earn their place there. While Artyom voted in favor of the bill that limited the amount of gold a scout would be sent with, he only did so to encourage integration. He was pretty sure however that the others on the executive council who voted similarly were only concerned with not unnecessarily draining the treasury. Well, that was karma for you. It was time for Artyom to find a job.

  He had about a week to earn enough money to both house and feed him, as well as rent the suit for another day. He’d shopped around town, but everyone else was offering similar prices for the services he was already using.

  There were plenty of jobs looking for skilled bodies, and Skilled bodies, but Artyom had to find one that paid enough and didn’t require a hand-holding Skill he didn’t have. That crossed out many potential careers, such as a scribe, who could copy drawings and text across pages instantly.

  Then there were the jobs that had to pay enough within the timeframe. Wagon drivers or security guards for traders were paid at the end of their journeys, which could take weeks for a one-way trip. Then there were waiters who could make due with a good memory and skills at mental math, but paid too little. That reduced the job pool even more. Maybe there was something Artyom could make use of his intelligence for in a way that an over-reliance on Skills would be a detriment?

  In the end, he found the perfect temporary career; that of a mail courier. The secretary at the post office was more than happy to hire Artyom after he showcased his ability to recall the path he’d taken to get here from the inn. It was good to see an employer so willing to hire entry level employees.

  Every other courier relied heavily on Skills to find their way to their destinations. Beginners and moderately advanced couriers would be able to get directions to a single package at a time, and the senior leveled ones would have a Skill that gave them the best optimized route between multiple packages.

  Artyom didn’t need supernatural assistance to work out a decently optimized solution to the travelling salesman problem in his head, and the results spoke for themselves. Apparently, he’d broken the all-time record for most deliveries made on someone’s first day. The package manager was hesitant to give him so much mail at once, but after a successful trip, and another one with an accompanying senior courier, Artyom was lauded as a mail-delivering hero.

  The money he’d earned from his work was enough to pay for food and shelter. He didn’t want to spend excessively on food and drink at the inn itself, so he opted to buy from the nearby food stalls. Besides, he wanted to get a taste for more regional cuisines, and there was only so much mac and cheese he could stomach in a week. By the time of the party, Artyom had earned enough to rent out the suit for another night, with a gold coin leftover. He visited Aspa’s shop again, picking out the same suit he’d rented earlier, before making his way to Lord Cabbafor’s manor. Artyom didn’t know whether or not the hero would show up, or what he would be like, but he’d played all of his cards and had a good feeling at least this would work out. It was time to party.