by Tao Wong
Mikito nods, having looted the bodies and started walking out of the clearing, forcing me to follow as we hunt for more monsters.
“Well, experience in this theory is just the System rewarding us for being good Mana siphons. The more Mana we use—say, in a fight—the more experience we get. The more likely we’ll use Mana—and survive to do it—the more experience we get, which gets us Levels to use it more. Of course, it also encourages us to not fight stupidly hard monsters and die or pick on creatures we can beat by flicking our fingers,” I say. “This theory relies on the System wanting us to use Mana, but…”
“You like it,” Mikito states. “But why sit back?”
“Sam and Lana need more levels—so whether it’s more stress or more Mana use, me helping doesn’t add to their experience. I’ve also got Ali tracking my experience gains recently while I don’t fight and just practice my Spells and Skills. I wanted to see which, if any, made sense and how different it was compared to the books I’ve been reading. Did you know that you gain Mana on a regular basis even if you aren’t fighting? Not a lot, but it’s a non-zero amount.”
“No. But why are you doing all this?”
“Well, most of the experiments were run on stable, non-Dungeon planets. I figured if I can get a series of baselines, we could run the numbers backward using some of the formulas presented and debunk them or potentially improve on a few.” When Mikito just continues to give me a blank stare, I add, “If I can do that, I can publish a paper in the System with my findings. I might even make a few Credits.”
Mikito stares at me for a long moment before she turns her mecha away, walking off without a word. I can almost hear the word “Baka,” even if she doesn’t say it. Okay, fine. My hobbies might be a little weird, but I’m trying to find something a little more productive than being a combat junkie.
Chapter 6
Finishing the quest took a few days of hunting, more of the time spent actually locating the damn monsters than fighting. What was that saying? Hours of waiting and a few minutes of heart-pounding terror? Either way, the Clan Head was suitably thankful and approved the quest completion immediately once we got back. He even waived the charges on the butchering, which boosted our Credits a bit.
Since I had no current needs in the Shop, I decided to save my Credits, though Sam took the opportunity to go shopping. He refused to show us what he bought though, muttering about it “not being ready.” The most I could get was that instead of buying completed pieces, he elected to put together his equipment himself.
Other than a few grateful refugees who slowed us down when we left, leaving the alien-owned town was pretty simple. Not surprisingly, there’s a significant drop in the number of people who follow us. Most of those who come have family or friends they desperately need to meet.
The drive down to Kamloops was long and boring. Since most of the settlements near Prince George had been cleared of survivors, we had no reason to stop and instead journeyed south directly. It wasn’t until we hit 100 Mile House that we found signs of any living being, and in this case, it was a small and entirely unfriendly group of humans. Deciding that we’d prefer not to damage our equipment, we left the gun-happy group to their own devices and swung around the survivors to head to Kamloops.
Late spring was in bloom all around us as we drove to the city, flowers waving gently and alternately perfuming and poisoning the air. As we traveled, we noted the shifting zone levels, some dipping as low as the twenties while other times spiking up to the fifties. Forested mountains surrounded us while hungry bears and other hibernating animals prowled the roadways, occasionally attempting a human-sized snack.
The evolution into a Dungeon World had brought some significant changes to our world. The purple-and-pink forested mountain, the field of poisonous flowers, and the dryad that danced through the trees, tempting us, were just the biggest outliers. Pine and oak now combined with silverkennel and unnzwek trees while squirrels battled imps for nuts and survival.
Sadly, outside of those lone survivors at 100 Mile House, we found no others. Of course, considering it was technically only a few hours’ drive between 100 Mile House and Kamloops, it could be that they’d made their way in. It was something I think we all preferred to believe.
Hopefully, that’s what happened and not something more sinister. Unfortunately, sinister might just be the case, especially with the group sitting on what looks like a tank at the Thompson River crossing, waiting for us.
“Good day,” I greet the group as we roll in slowly.
“Who are you?” one of the group calls. He’s got four arms, two on either side, and an orange, ruddy face, his body covered in a silver bodysuit-armor combo.
“Adventurers from the north,” I call back, smiling widely. I could say visitors or travelers, but Adventurers has a nice ring to it and carries specific connotations in this new world.
“Registered?” Four Arms says.
Crap. Bluff called.
“No,” I call back, smiling widely. “No guild.”
“No problem, we’re always looking for Adventurers,” Four Arms says and waves us forward. “We’ll just need to escort you in. Also, you know about our entrance fee?”
“No. What is it?”
“Just five thousand Credits per person.”
I cough, staring at the man. Five thousand Credits is insane! “That is insane, right?”
“Yup. That’s called a shakedown, boy-o.”
“John?” Lana asks, glancing dismissively at the group.
Ever since Ali upgraded the last time, he’s been able to share the Status information with the party, allowing Lana and group to see their info if he wants to. It still takes a bit of an effort, so he only does that when he expects a fight, like now.
“Chill. We’re here to play nice,” I mutter softly.
That gets a snort from Ingrid.
“It’s okay if you don’t have it. We’ve got some very reasonable loan agreements,” Four Arms continues, smiling widely. “Why don’t we escort you in?”
“Sure,” I agree immediately.
These guys all have Levels in the thirties and forties at the Basic Level, which makes them not much more difficult than the monsters we killed. Admittedly, they’re augmented by technology, but I still can’t see them being a major problem.
Dropping my voice, I ask the group, “How come they’re so confident? We out-Level them by a lot.”
“That’d be me,” Ingrid says, her voice cackling over the radio. “Upgraded one of my Skills and I can now push false information out instead of just hiding it. Since we’re grouped, I dropped all our levels by a bit. Well, everyone but yours, John.”
I grunt, nodding. Fair enough. My System level looks weird anyway at 37. Since there’s no Basic Class attached to it and my Class is rare enough that most wouldn’t know of it—at least not out here at a glance—I basically read as significantly weaker than I am.
The group surrounds us the moment we cross the bridge, “escorting” us to town with the tank at the back of the procession. On our left, the Thompson River feeds into Kamloops Lake, running alongside us all the way in. Abandoned resorts, warehouses, and residences dot the land we drive by. As we pass the golf course, I tilt my head to the side, staring toward where the glowing dot of an established dungeon flashes on my map. The group around us says nothing, so I follow suit, tagging and sending the information to the party. Something to look into when we have time.
On the drive in, I cudgel my brain for information on the town. I’ve driven by a few times, mostly on the way to a provincial park for weekend hiking. Kamloops was mostly a mining and forestry town, from what I recall, with a decent trade in tourists during the summer. There was a major rail line and an airport, with the 5, 97, and the Trans-Canada highways all connecting in it. Oh, and it had a university too.
As we finally approach the city after swinging away from the lake for a bit, I recall a few other facts. Most importantly, Kamloops is a split c
ity—nearly two-thirds of the city lies across the river in the northwest, connected by a bridge. The northeast, which is also split by the meeting of another river, doesn’t really have much. The city center itself is on this side though, which makes me wonder if they consolidated at all.
You have entered a Safe Zone (The Town of Kamloops)
Mana flows in this area have been forcefully stabilized. No monster spawning will occur within boundaries.
This Safe Zone includes:
Town of Kamloops City Center
The Shop
11 Farming Centers
More…
Finally, we’re officially in the town boundaries. A quick review of the map information shows that the “town” is actually only everything on this side, the other portion of the town abandoned. It makes sense to do this; after all, it makes hitting the land requirements to create a town easier.
“Looks like they paid to specify the town boundaries,” Ali sends to me, staring at the information. His fingers waggle and he stares at more information before grunting. “That’s why. These guys do have the money. They’re part of the Thirteen Moon Sect. Cartel? Gang? You get my meaning, right, boy-o?”
“You’re saying that the owners of Kamloops—the Thirteen Moon Sect—are rich and ruthless?” I reply to Ali out loud, letting the party into our conversation over the radios.
“Got it in one. Nasty little group, known more for their criminal activities than their governance—but they are a government. Damn it…” Ali falls silent. Since he doesn’t have a radio, he can only talk to me or out loud.
I understand his annoyance. Now that they know we don’t have a Guild backing us, we’re in an exposed position. Guilds in the Galactic Council are the equivalent of companies in our old world, if you’d accept the use of a loose metaphor. Big enough Guilds are like multinational corporations, often powerful enough to bully smaller countries or groups. In this case, the Sect is probably the equivalent of a small country. Due to a law passed a few thousand years ago, Guilds aren’t allowed to own towns and villages, a necessary step to ensure they don’t get too powerful.
“Boss, Henri’s got a bad, bad feeling about this place,” Sam’s voice cackles over the radio.
It takes me only a moment to recall who Henri is—Henrietta Poskart, a Seer with Class Skills that dealt with “seeing” things, whether in the present or future.
“No shit,” Lana says. “On the left, one hundred twenty meters.”
I glance over and spot the group of humans walking along the road, carrying the carcass of a furred and barbed creature on their shoulders. They are dirty, disheveled, and malnourished—which is saying something in a world with a Clean spell and Mana nourishment. Behind them, a Dwarf walks with a whip, cracking it across a back when he thinks they’re slowing down. Over the radio, I hear the hiss of exhaled breath.
“Serfs.”
“Serfs,” I say, repeating Ali as he provides further information. “They’ve been bought by the Dwarf under an indentured contract for two hundred years.”
“Two hundred years!” Lana splutters.
“Don’t forget, gene therapy and the System have increased our lifespan a lot,” Ingrid says. “How long, we’re still not certain, but a few hundred sounds just about right.”
“Sounds like slavery to me,” Sam says angrily.
“Ali says to keep calm. We can’t afford to take them on. They might be smaller as a group than the Duchess, but they’re still a government. They’re spread out across multiple worlds,” I say, doing my best to keep my voice calm and soothing. I stare at the map, quickly resorting the data as I look for information about the Sect in the city.
One mid-Level Advanced Class and three others in the low teens Advanced Classes make up the major punching power of the Sect in the city. Two of the low-Level Advanced Classes are near the mid-Level. The third is at what I’m assuming is the butchering yard or mess hall, from the way the dots congregate and move around in that area. After that, we have another dozen in the Level 30s and a few in the 40s of the Basic Class with nearly a score in the 20s. Quite a few, though at a glance, only two-thirds of them are combat Classers.
It takes me a moment to figure out why. Most of the humans have Levels in the twenties and thirties, and the vast majority aren’t combat Classes. The highest non-party human is a Level 37 Marksman, from what I can see, though there might be a few more out of the city right now. With that kind of Level disparity, they’d only need the top group to keep everyone else in check. In the end, the numbers present in Kamloops don’t matter. It’s their overall strength that is a concern.
“We just going to sit here and let them do this?” Sam growls as we drive through the deserted streets. Whatever you have to say about them, the Sect has done well at clearing the streets of broken down automobiles and other refuse of pre-System technology.
“What do you want us to do? Kill them all? Then what? We might be able to leave and escape their revenge, but what about everyone else?” Ingrid says bitingly. “Ali’s right. Stay out of it. Anything we do is going to make it worse.”
“This doesn’t sit right with me,” Sam says.
“Nor for us. But we’ll hold back for now,” Lana says softly, something unreadable in her voice.
“Will you look at that, you humans can learn,” Ali says wryly. Still, I hear the tinge of bitterness in his voice. After all, Ali’s presence as my Companion is due to a similar contract, as I understand it. He won’t explain it in detail though, even when I’ve pushed him.
“Button up, people, we’re here,” I say as we finally come to a stop.
Unlike Roxley’s ostentatious silver skyscraper, Kamloops’s city center building is a grey, cinder block government building situated near the center of the new Town. Ugly and boring, without a trace of soul.
***
Mikito and I stride through the corridors to meet the titular owner of the city—or is it administrator?—escorted by a trio of guards including Four Arms. The rest of the party is outside, keeping watch over the vehicles and the survivors, the pets spread out around the group and chewing on a snack. The crunch and crack of thigh-sized bones ripple through the coms, a not-so-subtle warning about what the pets could do if released.
Seated behind an oak desk, a slim, nearly cadaverous humanoid-avian creature bobs its head as we enter. No lips, just a beak that chirps loudly, translated a second later through speakers set across its throat. Behind him are his bodyguards, the pair of low-Level Advanced Classes, their arms crossed as they glower at me. One’s a black-skinned orc, a Hakarta derivative of some form. The other looks similar to Four Arms behind us, except he’s bigger and sports six arms.
“Greetings, Adventurers. I understand you are lacking in funds for the entry fee?” the avian says when my gaze finally comes back to rest on him.
“It’s a little steep,” I say, coming to a rest position in front of the avian. I’d sit, but there’s no chair on this side of the desk. I take a moment and scan his status bar.
Bimmox (Level 36 Sect Sub-Chief)
HP: 1080/1080
MP: 2430/2430
Conditions: None
“That’s not a combat class, is it?” I send to Ali and get a confirmation immediately.
Advanced Class, but non-combat. On the other hand, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have his own tricks up his sleeve. After all, there’s no reason why he couldn’t have bought combat Class Skills in the Shop. In fact, I’d almost guarantee he has. It does mean, however, that there are only two specialized combat Classers in town and both are right across from us.
“Surely a group as well-equipped as you can afford it,” Bimmox screeches before the robotic voice translates a moment later.
“Not for all our people,” I say, curious to see where he’s going with this.
“Ah, those are not chattel for sale?” Bimmox says.
“And if they were?”
“We could negotiate. Though their Classes are common
and their Levels low. We could not offer more than a few thousand Credits per person. The cost of upgrading them to a useful Level, well, you understand,” Bimmox says.
“I see.” I exhale, staring at the monster. I push down the flash of revulsion, forcing peace and tranquility into my mind by sheer willpower. “We won’t be selling them. We’ll just keep moving on.”
“Well, there’s a problem with that, you see. You’ve already entered my Town and have yet to pay us,” Bimmox says.
Behind me, I sense the trio of guards spreading out.
“John, we’ve got more people surrounding the vehicles,” Lana’s voice comes over the radio.
I mentally adjust the radio settings, letting them hear my side of the conversation as well as Bimmox’s. “Well, Bimmox, what exactly are you saying?”
“That we will get our entry fee, one way or the other,” Bimmox says.
“We’ve got thirteen survivors and my group, so that’s ninety thousand Credits in total? How do we do this?” I say, my voice calm. I hear a slight gasp over the radio, too soft for me to make out who it is. I understand though—it’s a hell of a lot of Credits.
“Ssss…” Bimmox hisses and stares at me. “Unfortunate, but each entrant must pay for their own entry fee. Unless they are Serfs of another.”
“I see,” I continue to say calmly. “And if they were?”
“I’d ask to see the contracts of course. Though I should add that falsifying such documentation is a crime.” Bimmox blinks, eyelids closing from the front to back in a thoroughly alien manner.
