New System, Who Dis?

Thursday, April 4th, 2069

“Are you sure you want to purchase the Miner’s Pick for ten thousand mC?” Smegma intoned dryly as he rolled his eyes.

“I just said I wanted it? What the husk is going on?”

“I’m required by the system and my sect to ensure that you didn’t choose the wrong option,” Smegma explained, still sounding upset with the process.

“Oh okay, yes then,” I answered.

“Sorry, you have to say yes right after I ask the question. So once again. Are you sure you want to purchase the Miner’s Pick for ten thousand mC?”

“What if I say no?”

“Keep it up, and I’ll pee on you in your sleep.”

“Would that even work?”

“No but you’d always know I had—so, I figure it’s still effective as a threat.”

“Do you even pee?”

“Of course, I do! Wait—do I?” Smegma eyes unfocused as he seemed to try to recall if he’d peed since I’d ‘summoned’ him. I cleared my throat which brought him back to the moment. “Right. Are you sure you want to purchase the Miner’s Pick for ten thousand mC?”

“Yes.”

Smegma vanished. “Haha,” I said pointedly. “Very funny.”

No response came, and my smile of amusement slowly began to fall. Was he really gone or was he just hiding in the seat or under the car to come out and ‘get me.’ I replayed the moment he had seemed to vanish. Normally, I could see him move and this time I definitely hadn’t.

“Husk, are you serious?” I asked the empty car. “Was this thing just a scam to make me buy an F-rank monster core?” That question obviously went unanswered but brought me full circle to another question that my too calm mind highlighted for me. Had I just been imagining the Imp this whole time?

I’d never really gotten any proof he was ‘real’, had I? I recalled the vanishing crystals from earlier that day. Surely that was—

Buyer’s First Purchase detected.

You’ve unlocked the contribution system in the Demonic Vault skill.

Current contribution = 10,000 points

Error. Contribution features unavailable.

Checking Skill OS…

Out of date.

Updating to 6.1.4…

Downloading…

Error. Insufficient Bandwidth to continue.

Contribution too low to increase Bandwidth.

Attempting smaller packet…5.0.18

Insufficient Bandwidth

Attempting smaller packet…4.3.4

Insufficient Bandwidth

Attempting smaller packet…3.2

Insufficient Bandwidth

Attempting smaller packet…2.0.0.1

Downloading…

Updating Demonic Vault.

Rebooting…

“Oh shit! I’d forgotten about this version-OS thing.” Between one blink and the next the screen was gone—and in the silence that followed I once again felt doubt at my sanity. My brain helpfully chugged along analyzing, far too calmly, if I was crazy.

Of course, that’s when I saw the people stopped in the parking garage staring at me—well, no not at me but at my car. Unbidden I sank down in my seat, while simultaneously looking around to try to figure out what drew their attention. A light knock on the passenger window surprised me enough that I jumped.

An older looking woman holding a purse far to big for her was standing there looking concerned. Unfortunately, the windows on the escort weren’t electric and so I climbed over the seat to manually roll it down a crack.

“Just making sure you’re okay, sonny,” she said. I stupidly stared at her as my brain continued looking for the reason everyone had looked over. A glance around showed people going about their return to cars or into the mall, which boded well.

She must have noticed my confusion because when I looked back, she had a big smile on her face. “Happy birthday,” she said—which didn’t help my confusion in the least.

“I’m sorry, what?” I asked.

“Your awakening, sonny. You glowed brighter than the floodlights out here. Drew everyone’s eye. From the light I’d say you got a good one. So, happy birthday!”

My eyes widened, and the smile on the lady grew bigger. It was not my birthday, but I could see the logic the old woman had followed. Everyone awakened on their eighteenth birthday and with the skill update, I must have glowed similarly to when that happens. The second part about how bright someone glowed to their skill rank wasn’t a proven fact, but a superstition many people held onto.

“Oh, thanks. And yeah, I’m fine—definitely wasn’t a powerful enough skill to have knocked me out. Bummer that!”

“Oh, don’t worry about that—I’ve got a good feeling about your chances. Glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks again,” I mumbled unsure how to exit the conversation. The woman began rummaging in her purse a moment later and then pulled out a white rectangle. I only recognized it as a business card as she pushed it through the cracked window.

“Ayla Moody, Hunter Manager. Once you get assessed I’d love to chat with you,” she said, her smile genuine with out a hint of embarrassment. I guessed her embarrassment at ‘cold calling’ Hunter’s likely had long since vanished if her job was Managing them.

“Thanks, I’ll keep you in mind,” I answered as I took the card. She nodded, turned and simply walked toward the mall after that—which I greatly appreciated, since I didn’t have to keep lying.

I rolled back up the window and was pushing myself back into the driver seat when Smegma popped back into existence. Or what I first thought was Smegma. While the coloring was right and the demonic creature had similarities to the Imp from moments ago, it definitely wasn’t the same.

My eyes wouldn’t have been able to pull themselves away if something didn’t try to push me into the seat—from the top of my thighs no less. I started to scream, as I looked down in panic—only to find a wooden handle of a Miner’s Pick across my lap. I turned my scream into a coughing cheer and glanced over to the passenger window. Sure enough, Ayla was looking back over her shoulder.

I gave her a double thumbs up, and faked a fist pump into the air. She smiled and kept walking. I breathed out heavily in relief before remembering the new killing machine in my car. My eyes locked back onto the muscular flying demon. “Ahhh, Smegma is that you?”

I now could catalog all the differences. His skin before was dark with some red hues underneath, or shining through. Now that red almost looked like decals on a vehicle. Where the arms were spindly before, there was now much more muscle. Even more than had filled out from me connecting my mana pool.

This creature looked almost like a pint-sized black and red goblin with wings.

“Of course, it’s me, dumb-dumb,” Smegma said in a familiar voice and I sighed again in relief. Now knowing that it was Smegma I chose to study the Miner’s Pick, my brain no longer able to find a reason to curb my enthusiasm.

I hurriedly grabbed the Miner’s Pick in my hands and spun it. My enthusiasm shriveled up and began to crack, like wet mud in the scorching sun.

The wood of the handle was old and dry, and even spinning it threatened splinters. I stopped spinning the thing and looked it over more. The head wasn’t rusty but pockmarked as if it had been before someone cleaned it with FF-fifty and sandpaper. Even the wedge that was hammered into the haft stuck up above the lip. I turned to look at Smegma who was still studying himself.

“Hey stop examining your new racing stripes. What the husk is this?” I asked holding up the pickaxe. “This is worth ten thousand mC?” I asked, my voice laced with the suspicions I felt. He was from a race of demons after all had just vanished and then reappeared ‘stronger.’ I couldn’t get the thought out of my head that this whole thing was a scam. Had I been too naïve?

Smegma slowly looked up from his self-admiration and saw what I was holding toward him. He rolled his eyes.

“Yes, the problem with the evolution enchants placed on the weapon is that it instantly degrades the quality when first applied,” Smegma said with a world-weary sigh. As if he was explaining that the stove was hot to a child for the third time.

I tried to not let the state of the thing be a disappointment, I truly did. However, I didn’t even want to spin the handle again, in case it gave me a magical splinter that festered and husking killed me. Who knew what kind of diseases Crendalar Five possessed.

Smegma he must have inferred a question from my lack of response. “Don’t worry it will look brand new after a few days of use. Even now it has some penetration enchants active, so it will be better than a standard Pickaxe.”

“You do realize the problem this creates in my plan though, right?” I responded, trying desperately to figure out how I was supposed to allow others to swing the pickaxe and watch it repair itself right in front of their eyes. Smegma went back to studying his biceps with his eyes and hands.

“All you have to do is hand them an already repaired one,” Smegma countered. I bestowed upon him another withering stare. That was a very simple solution that I already considered. The issue was how much time that would take. I couldn’t exactly use every pickaxe for a few days before giving it to someone else.

Well, I could—but that would put a huge damper on the big dreams I had. How long would that even take?

Wait—it wasn’t like anyone knew how my new ‘Skill’ in repair worked. Wanting to get Smegma’s opinion I asked, “Have you ever heard of a Skill that could put self-repair on an item?”

“Enchanting, nimwad,” he answered without looking up from his own stronger looking taloned fingers, and I immediately felt stupid.

Blushing red, I changed my question. “Could something like a self-repair enchant Skill exist? Husk—never-mind.”

I saw my mistake almost as soon as the words left my mouth, that and the stupid imp smirked, foretelling that he was going to give a smart-ass answer. Taking a deep breath, I put the car in drive. I would consider more options on my drive home.

I still hadn’t come up with anything new by the time I pulled into the driveway and got out of the car. Smegma hadn’t helped in the least, using the quick trip to examine his new body thoroughly.

As I approached my front door, all I could wonder was: Should I tell my family the whole story or make up more lies?

Instantly, I knew it was still too early to confess everything, and so I was left with the only other option. Still, all these lies were starting to feel like a precariously stacked Jengal Tower. When I opened the door, my father practically jumped off the couch to come greet me. I could see his excitement written clear across his face.

My mother slowly got to her feet off the couch behind him and followed in his wake. Sounding almost like a child on Christmas, my dad held up his hands and said, “Let’s see what you got!”

It almost hurt physically to hold out the ancient looking pickaxe and watch his face fall. My stomach knotted as he took the pickaxe and examined it. “Not a bad thought,” he said as some of the earlier excitement came back over his face. “If you can repair it, why not grab a used one on the verge of breaking. You save money and get a better product!”

My mother came over and winced as she figured out what the change in his tone was about, because her eyes could easily assess the state of the decrepit looking pickaxe. She frowned at it and then looked at me, before asking the clear question I had been expecting. “But why does it still look like this if you can repair it?”

My father’s eyebrows joined his hairline as he looked at me and then the wedge protruding from the top of the pickaxe. “My skill doesn’t work the way I originally thought,” I said, speaking the best lie I had planned on the drive home. “It turns out I put a self-repair stamp or something like that. Then it repairs itself as it mines Crystals; I think?”

“You don’t know?” my dad said skeptically. Then nodded before I could answer. “Right—new skill. So? I guess, that’s the feeling you get when you try repairing it?”

I could only nod. “I mean I’ll know a bit more tomorrow.”

My dad scratched his head and gave a look to my mother that seemed to be pleading. I wondered what exactly it was about, but certainly had a few guesses. The most likely of which was that she disagreed with me spending my savings on a pickaxe to begin with, and my current lackluster purchase wasn’t exactly giving her confidence. I really didn’t want to get involved with that argument if that was the case.

“I’m going to head to bed, my whole-body aches from my first day. Any idea where the crew is working tomorrow?” I asked the last question to change the subject.

“We think we’re heading back into the Detroit Field. The dungeon we were in today was only half cleared by our team and has some other valuable ores. Plus, they need to make a trip out there for the Gardeners anyway. According to Willa, they only got about a tenth of the herbs and fruit out.”

I nodded and yawned. I didn’t try to fight the yawn since it helped my current plan of escape. “Alright, I’ll see you in the morning then.”

I gave both a hug, and they squeezed tighter than normal, clearly still concerned over my recent trauma. In that moment I was even more desperate to stop telling lies. To admit everything, but the words caught in my throat. I’d wait just a bit longer and show them just how valuable the Demonic Vault skill was.

And maybe wait till my trial was finished…

Smegma didn’t bother hovering around when I entered the house, and while I was pretty sure he was in my room already—I was somewhat relieved to find him there after I went upstairs. I was marginally confident he couldn’t get himself into trouble, with the whole incorporeal thing, but I wasn’t willing to fully trust that sentiment.

Like a dog peeing on the carpet…

He flipped me the bird when he heard that surface thought.

“I hope you're happy, I’m lying to my parents now,” I said to change the subject. He shook his head with an amused grin.

“Yes, because I’m the puppet master who forces you to do my bidding,” he retorted and added an evil laugh along with a creepy three-fingered hand motion. I smirked already having known my comment was unfair. I’d simply said it to start the conversation.

Because I wanted a conversation.

The silence that fell after Smegma’s sarcasm disappointed me.

I sat down in my desk and pulled out my notebook. I made a note of two things—monster cores and Smegma’s interest in them, and the lie I’d used to cover up the state of the mining pick. I realized as I made the second, I’d left the new pick in my father’s hands when I made my escape. Part of me wanted to go get it because I wanted to test feeding it my personal mana, to see if it repaired. However, I wasn’t sure that would be how it worked, so instead I asked, “Smegma what would happen if I fed the Miner’s Pick my personal mana?”

“It would repair, but why in the hell would you do that?” He sounded incredulous. Another blush came over me. His question made me consider why I was wanting to test that. I simply wanted the pick to look better when I brought it with me tomorrow. Seeing my flush Smegma shook his head, “Just channel them to me for mC, let the enchant on the Miner’s Pick handle the rest tomorrow. Especially since you have to shard the crystals.” The last bit was said with all the scathing commentary I’d heard multiple times throughout the day.

I flipped back a page in the journal instead of answering, reading what my order of events was for my plan. I’d now accomplished the first part, which was buying the Miner’s Pick, but my second purchase of an E-ranked Mana Pool was no longer required, at least not until I confirmed what my Mana Pool was. I crossed that part out.

“Should I prioritize a Mid-Grade Spent Mana Crystal,” I asked Smegma, hoping he would say yes.

“Husk no,” he said. “You know as well as I do that you might get one of those in the coming weeks. Clearly you need a Skill you can use in combat.”

I flinched when Smegma suggested that. I wasn’t against combat and becoming a Hunter, but the way Smegma suggested it, seemed to suggest getting the skill and immediately diving into Portal’s solo. “You know I can’t get a skill and immediately start farming Portal’s, right?”

“Why not?” Smegma countered. At my raised eyebrows he explained, “With the right skill you easily could solo F-rank portals.”

“Me and what army?”

Necromancy Skill Card

Necromancy (1)

High-D-Rank

Summon slain creatures to act as your personal troops. Creatures suffer a fifty percent reduction in combat power and lose any skills they possessed. For convenience, summoned creatures are summoned as Shadows to prevent diseases and smells form spreading.

Cost: 500,000,000 mC

“Yeah, cause five hundred million mana Coins seems achievable…”

“That’s just an example. I’m just saying, you can definitely have an army!” Smegma countered.

I stood up and started my preparations for bed. I didn’t want to admit it but the idea of being able to summon creatures to fight for me. Of becoming a Solo Hunter who could clear dungeons by himself appealed to me in a way I hadn’t felt before. I didn’t bother writing down that pipe-dream though.

Instead, I brushed my teeth, got into my pajamas, and climbed into bed.

My eyes flew open and I sat up wide awake again. “Smegma, that skill you showed me was High-D-rank!”

“By golly-gosh,” Smegma began with a fake very fairy-tale-esque lilt to his voice. “I think you’re right!”

“Can the sarcasm. Did the new version or OS give you access to more skills?”

“Obviously,” he answered dryly.

Sleep forgotten I spent the next few hours scanning through the newest skills. Turns out that a High D-Rank Mana Pool had two-hundred and fifty mana. No wonder my measly sixteen points raised questions.

Eventually, my eyes felt heavy and without finding anything that changed my current plans, I crawled into bed.

My dreams of course betrayed my earlier thoughts—creating a movie of me as a necromancer taking on dragons.

* * *

Greb-shak looked at his new form again, and then at the sleeping child. His body was just a representation of changes that were far larger and more sweeping than that. Now, that the human was asleep he began examining his ‘updated’ memories.

It was strange. Earlier tonight he could recall thinking he was mid training for his role as a Demonic Trader, when he was ‘summoned’ early. Then as if between one blink and another he could remember ten additional years, and his graduation from that ‘program.’ He could even recall him and other researchers discussing changes the ‘system’ made on Gelth, a planet that was still initiating after Crendalar Five failed.

How had they discovered that? He couldn’t remember. However, he knew that multiple planets went through initiation at the same time. Then reached their tests for evolution at different paces. He could even remember that they were making progress on the why of that…

But again, he couldn’t remember the information related to why that was.

What exactly had happened in that moment Brodie purchased the pickaxe? He checked his log but only saw the same notification that he’d minimized after discovering his new memories, and body changes.

Demonic Vault Skill

Low-D-Grade

As a Demonic Trader you can offer the user of the Vault a choice of two of the following secondary effects.

Secondary Effect Options:

Achievements

Buffs

Classes

Crafter

Dungeon Lord

Extract

…

The list kept going but didn’t explain what had changed. Greb-shak began tapping a much harder and sharper black talon on his much larger and sharper teeth as he began looking through the options.

What would be best for Brodie? No, more importantly—what would be best for himself?