Fizzlesprocket_Everybody Loves Large Chests [Vol.2]

by Neven Iliev

  She stared at the Lightning Thrower solemnly, almost reverently, and ran a finger across its slightly warm chassis.

  “Dad …” she muttered. “Sorry about using Zapster on a worthless guy like that. I kind of lost it when that suspicious goon started asking questions about my star pupil.”

  A small smile spread across her lips.

  “I bet you would’ve loved meeting Boxxy. That guy is an enigma wrapped in a riddle with a side order of mystery, but I can tell he’s a man who adores machines. He’s weird, but in a good way, I think. And he’s just as clever as any gnome. Heh, give him enough time – he might just grow to be cleverer than you are!”

  Tears started trailing down her face.

  “ … than you were.”

  She hugged the weapon and began sobbing quietly.

  “I miss you and Lark so much. *Sniffle* Why? Why did you have to go off on that stupid trip? Why did you have to listen to some shady merchant’s promises! *Sniffle* Idiot! So what if the store is struggling? *Huck huck* You’re far more important than this shitty dump! *Sniffle* Curse that damned snake of a man and his shitty money! *Huck huck* Moron! *Huck* Blockhead! *Huck* Stupid!”

  Rory Fizzlesprocket was a Level 70 Arclight Artificer. He and his son, Lark, had left to visit the city of Monotal three weeks ago, aboard a merchant’s private caravan.

  The same caravan that had reportedly been found wiped out and ransacked on the outskirts of the former city.

  “Why did you have to leave me alone!”

  Cornie wept as she hugged the last memento of her dearly departed father and brother. It was hardly the best use for a delicate piece of high-powered weaponry, but what choice did she have?

  Those worthless humans couldn’t even bring her a body to mourn.

  Part Seven

  Erosa’s officials had put forth their utmost effort to keep the matter concerning a certain nun’s disappearance a secret, but that proved to be in vain. It was now eight days after that event and pretty much the entire city of Erosa knew about it: A priestess in service to Teresa had abandoned her vows, stolen a Holy Pearl from the temple, and eloped into the night with a stranger.

  The cat was out of the bag. There was no way to contain the spread of such scandalous rumours once they found their way into the general populace. This worrisome information had just the right mix of fact and fantasy to make people unable to judge whether such a thing was true or not. The purported guilty party was nowhere to be seen and their innocence could not be proclaimed with confidence by the temple or the guards.

  And so, rather than let them fester, the office of the city guard decided to take action. Bounty posters were made and a generous reward of 2,000 GP was offered to anyone who brought forth news that would lead to the capture of Lyo Rosetta or her accomplice, a man identified as Alden Crawford. There was also an ongoing investigation to find out who leaked this particular information, but that was little more than a token effort. Word of mouth was an extremely unreliable trail to follow.

  Which was exactly what the person responsible for maliciously spreading that rumour was counting on. In fact, not only were they also the one who manufactured this now widespread untruth, but they were also the actual perpetrator behind the Holy Pearl theft that set this whole situation into motion. And this person did it all with an evil, shit-eating grin on her face. Truly a rotten piece of garbage that enjoyed watching humans flail about in their ignorance. As expected of a succubus with a monster for a master.

  Xera’s reasons for doing all of this were, as per usual, entirely self-serving. She’d always hated that stuck-up bitch of a Goddess called Teresa. Any succubus who knew of the deity shared her opinion. These conniving seductresses were basically the antithesis of everything that Teresa stood for; Her natural enemies, as it were. This sentiment was also echoed by pretty much all of demonkind, albeit to a lesser extent.

  Kora’s completely unbiased opinion, for instance, was that the Goddess symbolized by the hammer was in dire need of a good hammering, right in Her divine parts. Xera was in somewhat of an agreement, but she had far more realistic goals in mind. The only way to mess with a divine being was to shake the faith of His or Her followers, which was why she toyed with Teresa’s flock at every opportunity. She would have no shortage of victims, either, as that religion encompassed the vast majority of humanity and the Lodrak Empire as a whole.

  Which wasn’t to say it was a monotheistic nation. The people of the Empire prayed to other Gods as well, but Teresa’s religion and its influence were by far the most prominent.

  So when the opportunity to screw with Her Divine Frigidness presented itself, the succubus leapt on it with truly demonic fervour. And the results were, to put it in her master’s words, really tasty. Not only did she make the populace of an entire city doubt one of Teresa’s clergy with a widespread lie, but she also framed the poor nun for a crime that the demoness herself had committed. None of which would’ve been possible if sister Lyo hadn’t gotten too horny for her own good. It was the perfect concoction that was sure to make that self-righteous deity throw a hissy fit if she found out.

  That, however, was a very big ‘if.’

  After all, the Gods were neither omnipotent nor omniscient. They could draw power from the faith of their followers to perform miracles, but it could also be said that they were dependent on the mortals’ devotion. The question regarding what would happen should a God or Goddess lose every last one of their believers had been a controversial topic among the faithful since olden times.

  Would these deities simply disappear? Or would they instead be left powerless and lose their divinity? Or perhaps garnering faith was simply a way for them to enhance their already formidable power? Such secrets of the Gods were very well kept, but their behaviour throughout the centuries made one thing clear: They wanted to be worshipped. Which in turn meant that causing people to doubt them on a large scale was the best – and perhaps only – way to rattle their gilded cages.

  Realistically speaking, though, Xera’s careful manipulations were unlikely to catch the notice of a big shot like Teresa. She had millions of worshippers, so losing a few thousand was unlikely to make any sort of dent. It was the thought that counted though, and the succubus’s machinations were enough to make her feel good about herself. And in the end, that was all that really mattered to her.

  Which wasn’t to say her actions didn’t have some more practical benefits. Forging and spreading that rumour around served as a good smokescreen for her master’s activities. Authorities wouldn’t be able to look into the background of some shady adventurer with a creepy atmosphere if they were too busy reassuring the populace. Meaning not only was Xera having fun, but she was also actively improving the chances her current arrangement would last at least a bit longer.

  Spreading that information was surprisingly easy, too, as humans sometimes put too much trust in their superiors. And while that trust was usually well-placed, it didn’t account for a devious demoness worming her way into their command structure and poisoning their minds. The lieutenant, in particular, had been easy enough to sway with but a shake of her hips and a kiss on the lips. He eagerly hired her as his new assistant, which put her in a good spot to obtain all sorts of sensitive information. Spreading misinformation was quite easy, too. All she had to do was plant the right suggestion in the right head through her Dreamweaver Skill and watch the mortals flail around in their ignorance as they tried to work them out.

  After all, the greatest misunderstandings were those that men arrived at seemingly on their own.

  The temples were, unfortunately, less prone to supernatural manipulation. Sneaking into the building while pretending to be an out-of-town nun on a pilgrimage and absconding with one of their Holy Pearls was easy enough, but anything further than that would be ill-advised. Monks, Priests, and Paladins had Skills that fortified them against mental attacks, as well as the power to cleanse such afflictions from others or themselves.

  That w
asn’t to say these holy men and women hated demons for wanting to spread misery, death, and destruction. That was like hating a fire for spreading in the woods or resenting the rain for causing a flood. The servants of the Gods were naturally wary of unbound demons or those ordered to commit atrocities, but then again, so was everyone else. It was considered just another misuse of magical power, and a summoner was considered responsible for crimes carried out by their familiar.

  However, it was worth noting that the vast majority of such incidents were caused by ignorance rather than malice. Most Warlocks that chose to use the power of a contracted demonic entity did so with well-meaning intentions. It was hard to deny that one could do great things if they correctly applied their familiars’ abilities, but keeping a tight leash on a demon was harder than it sounded.

  That was why many Warlocks opted to use beholders and hellhounds as their primary contracted servants. Fiends and stalkers were more impactful when it came to combat but also much more difficult to keep in check – and far more dangerous should they be allowed to roam free. As for succubi, although their offensive magic was definitely potent, it was also technically their secondary feature.

  Suffice it to say that any adventurer who had one of these temptresses under their command would face a lot of ridicule and suspicion almost by default.

  All things considered though, the number of people who opted to go the route of ‘demon tamers’ was relatively small, accounting for barely a fifth of all Warlocks. Most of them opted for the safer route of honing their arcane might and ruinous magic, which did not lose out to other Caster Jobs. As for the ones who opted for the riskier – and potentially more powerful – method of relying on demonic power, they were … tolerated. Some of them were even recognized and lauded for their abilities to control their familiars to a fine degree.

  Which was the exact opposite of what Boxxy did. The Mimic pretty much let its demons do as they pleased so long as they produced results and didn’t inconvenience it. Its entire stance on the ethical ramifications of using malignant extra-dimensional entities could be summed up as such:

  “Responsibility? Guilt? What are those? Are they tasty? … They’re not? Then I don’t need them. Go bring me tasty things!”

  This sort of careless outlook was why the shapeshifter continued its daily routine over the past week, wilfully ignorant of the civil unrest its demons were causing.

  It began each morning by visiting the Mercenary Guild with the express purpose of taking on new Quests or turning in finished ones for profit. After concluding its business there, Boxxy would then move on to practising its Artisan Job, either by itself or by taking lessons from Fizzy. So far it had made a plethora of mechanical contraptions that relied on Clockwork Expertise, such as a few dozen retractable blades of varying quality, twenty-five hand-sized clocks, two basic repeating crossbows, several ‘pick proof’ combination locks, and a disturbingly high number of music box toys.

  Selling these mechanical wonders proved to be remarkably easy, especially when it came to the better-than-average door locks or the plainly entertaining music boxes. These sales were the point where Boxxy was finally able to recover a more sizable chunk of the money spent on parts, but it was still suffering a steady loss.

  It was worth it, however. The Mimic’s Artificer Job had gone all the way to Level 12, which also unlocked the next Skill in the series: Explosives Handling. Flashbangs and dynamite were the basic explosives that could be made based on this Skill alone, but when combined with Clockwork Expertise, the Artificer could also give birth to several nasty surprises. Time-delayed explosives, pressure-activated landmines, and tripwire bombs were all within reach. There was even an evolution of the Bladeblossom called the Bladeboom. It worked much the same way as the original, only it used the power of Blast Powder rather than springs to form a rudimentary fragmentation grenade.

  But even though Boxxy was improving steadily as an Artificer, its Warlock Job was still stuck at Level 25 and would stay that way for a while by the look of things.

  There existed two methods for raising the Level cap of a ‘people Job.’ The first, easiest, and most commonly used method was to find a suitable teacher. For example, in order to become a Level 1 Artificer, Boxxy had to find an Artificer that was at least Level 25 and had the Mentor Skill. This was a general-access Skill that anyone could acquire with enough time and practice, which facilitated training and teaching in all their forms. It was also mandatory if one hoped to pass on their Jobs to others.

  Fizzy was overqualified for this position, but that wasn’t a bad thing. Since she was a Level 56 Arclight Artificer, she could also break the Level 25 limit on Boxxy’s tinkerer Job, provided her Mentor Skill reached Level 4 by that point. One would then need to find a Level 75 teacher with a Level 7 Mentor Skill to break past 50, and a Level 100 teacher with a Level 10 Mentor Skill to progress above Level 75.

  In other words, the Mimic had to find the appropriate Warlock trainer if it wanted to further its only Spell-slinging Job. And therein lay the problem. The vast majority of combat-oriented Job trainers all belonged to one guild or another and refused to teach anyone who wasn’t part of their organization. And joining such an organization meant undergoing a Full Appraisal to verify one’s capabilities by revealing their Status. Needless to say, they would immediately reject Boxxy’s application when they found out it was a monster in disguise.

  The other method for furthering one’s Job was much more difficult and was known simply as a Breakthrough. In order to accomplish this, an individual had to diligently train all of that Job’s unlocked Skills until they reached the maximum Level 10. A stringent and rigorous training regime would be necessary to achieve such a feat and attempting this path was likely to take months, maybe even years, of hard work. There was also the hidden caveat that, while Levelling these Skills, it was highly unlikely for an adventurer to progress in Job Levels, leaving them in a bit of a rut.

  These things made many people shy away from such a path. Why would they spend an exorbitant amount of time like that on something easily achieved in an afternoon with the help of a trainer and a sack of gold? Even if achieving a Breakthrough awarded a Perk that boosted XP and Skill Proficiency for the related Job by 10%, that was little more than a consolation prize. An adventurer would simply grow faster if they sought out a Mentor, which was why this approach was reserved only for those who couldn’t find a trainer or were unable to muster the fee.

  Thus, at least for the moment, Boxxy’s Warlock Job was stuck at Level 25. Rather than obsess about it, the Mimic decided to turn its attention towards improving the things it could. The Artificer Job was progressing steadily but seemed to require slightly more expensive components as time went on. Fizzy herself confirmed that the necessary raw material costs would steadily climb due to the scarcity or difficulty of obtaining those substances. Even with the discounts she gave her ‘star pupil,’ it still proved to be a considerable strain on Boxxy’s wallet, and showed no sign of letting up.

  At least, not until Boxxy decided it had had enough and cashed in on its ‘investment.’

  In the meantime, however, its Mimic Job had actually stagnated for a while. Boxxy had spent perhaps too much time focusing on widgets and gadgets and not enough on murdering the crap out of things. Both that and its immediate monetary concerns could be solved by completing Quests via the Mercenary Guild. Which was why the monster was currently out here in the Whispering Marshes south of Erosa in the middle of the night.

  The area was a wide, depressing swampland that had formed as a result of the Whispering Canal’s sprawling delta. The deep and narrow river became shallow and wide and split up into dozens of outlets as it approached the ocean. As a result, the entire place was perpetually wet, overgrown with reeds and tall grass, and always seemed to have a thick mist that limited visibility. The two main gripes adventurers had with it, however, was that it smelled horrible and hid several annoying species of monsters. The former wasn’t particularly a
problem for a chest with no innate sense of smell, and the latter was the main reason it was here in the first place.

  The Mimic scuttled along slowly across the muddy ground, using Stealth to minimize its presence. Its normally narrow spider legs were uncharacteristically tipped with small disks that increased their surface area and prevented the monster from sinking into the soft mud. It then suddenly stopped, planted all eight of its legs firmly on the ground and – for lack of a better term – crouched.

  The slender black limbs then uncoiled suddenly as Boxxy leapt up into the air, reaching a height of about three metres. The spidery appendages on its side disappeared back inside its body and four long, narrow metal rods with pointed ends popped out from its underside. It fell like a brick into a nearby puddle, driving the four oversized nails deep into the ground with a splash, a squish, and a crunch.

  [Assassination Skill triggered. Your attack has dealt 350% more damage. Target HP -253.]

  [Proficiency level increased. Assassination is now Level 8. AGI +2. DEX +1. STR +1.]

  The puddle the Mimic landed in erupted as a gigantic three-metre-long grey lobster emerged. It thrashed about wildly, trying to shake off the stubborn box that had nailed itself to its back. But it couldn’t because Boxxy had already expanded the tips of its makeshift spears to form something akin to fishhooks. It had already firmly anchored itself to the raging crustacean’s backside. Its unwilling mount attempted to reach back and pry the damnable box out of its back, but its long, powerful pincers simply could not bend back that far.

  Boxxy opened its jaw and produced two fleshy tendrils wrapped around its favourite shiny things: a pair of mithril daggers. It swung them downwards in a wide arc, easily penetrating the invertebrate monster’s outer shell and gouging out its flesh.