“I’m glad ya like it!”
“Is that sarcasm?”
“Nope. Drinky drinky. Hehehe.”
And another sip went down. Not too salty, not too watery, not too strong… or thick, this stew right here was the best he had ever drank. Perhaps his state of starvation enhanced the flavors many-fold, but as a chunk of bear meat broke apart and melted on his tongue, he knew Gabrielle had outdone herself. She was going to be the best Cook in this game, and he knew that as a fact.
Rowan couldn’t down the bowl and another two fast enough before an icon of a tomato appeared on his buff bar.
Well Fed (469 Quality): +9 Flow, Constitution, and Resistance (6 hours remaining)
Tip: Well Fed’s buff quality will diminish over its duration.
Just as he’d read on the forums.
Food was one of the better buff sources, and it was active, most importantly, whilst in combat. But stews were cumbersome; who would carry a giant flask onto a battlefield? No one. Candies were better there. And not to forget, a bowl of cold stew would yield a lower-quality Well Fed. Defender’s advantage was massive in this world.
Eventually, Rowan put aside his bowl, slouched against the wall. His stomach sloshed. “Alright everyone. Eat up, then we’re back to work in thirty minutes.”
“Back to work?” Skylar mumbled. “We’ve been working since morning.”
“Yes, since we woke up.” Viola added. “I want to rest.” Her tone was off slightly.
Rowan didn’t relent. “There could be Trolls coming for us right now.” The mood chilled as though everyone had forgotten.
Gabrielle said, “And Rowan and I would just respawn. None of you would come back.”
Zaine’s head shook. “Elf slaves are valuable, more so in forests. They’re very careful to not kill us if they can avoid it.”
“Oh, right, you have racial bonuses.”
Faenin nodded. “We gain additional experience in Forester and Woodworker. Our skills are more effective with shorter cooldowns.” His voice was stronger.
Eying those blood-stained bandages, Rowan asked, “Hows your debuff?”
“Moderate, but I’m feeling better. I think it may decrease to Minor soon.”
Relief swept Rowan’s innards. “I’m glad we didn’t lose a good Elf.”
“Me too!” Gabrielle chirped. “I’m so happy my babies are doing well.”
Some awkward laughter was had.
Rowan raised a palm and said in a lord’s voice, “Seriously though, we have to get to work. Faenin, where is that gold deposit?”
It was Liluth who stood. She held out her palms wide, then sang a word in the mystic language. Her eyes lit up with brownish-gray light. Her index finger pointed along the coastline toward the ocean. “Six hundred and forty yards.”
Gabrielle asked, “Close to water?”
Faenin answered, “No, roughly two hundred yards from the shore, uphill. Fifteen deep.”
“Alright,” Rowan exhaled, nodding. “We’ll have a fifteen minute break, then we’ll start digging.”
“You said thirty,” Viola complained.
“Oh, did I? My mistake.” Rowan smirked.
Abruptly, Zaine stood, stretched his arms, and muttered that mystic word for Survey: “Sevialia. Five thousand units, give or take a hundred or so.”
Gabrielle perked perked straight. “Oh. Oh. I forgot to ask, how strong are those spiders?”
Faenin said, “We did not see, but monsters that spawn around manawood trees are generally mid-to-high level. There will be one or more elites.”
Oh, shit, Rowan thought. And that mana had ancient in its name.
“Uh oh.” Gabrielle whistled a low tone.
A touch of anxiety brushed Rowan’s neck. “What’s the range on your Survey skill?”
“One mile in each direction, a tenth of a mile below ground. These are the only two deposits for many leagues.”
Swallowing, Rowan stood and gave everyone a tug. “Break’s over. Let’s get digging. No complaining.”
They did complain—lots of complaints from this ungrateful lot. At least Gabrielle was appreciative, his loving wife and mate.
It didn’t take long to get everyone to shut up and into the grove of things.
24
Dozens of yards underground had not sounded so deep to Rowan, but brutal reality soon put a crushing weight on his back. He cursed rudely under his breath while his arms and lower back were begging for a reprieve. He pushed onward.
Here at the base of mountain’s jagged cliff, the topsoil was only a yard thick, and beyond that, sedimentary rock stretched likely for miles below, assuming no aquifer flowed near. At fifteen yards was merely the top slivers of gold; the vein itself was immense, a vertical cone-like structure over forty yards in height. One could imagine what this mine would soon look like—not pretty.
Nevertheless, diligent work was underway with minimal small talk under the dying light. While Zaine went straight for sedimentary rock, magicking away chunky sections one at a time, everyone else was clearing a twenty-by-twenty section of topsoil and clay. Everyone except for Faenin, who was keeping a lookout back at the base.
Gabrielle said, “This is gonna be like those multi-layered pit mines in our world, isn’t it?”
“Yep,” Rowan grunted as he dumped a crate full of clay onto a pile. He coughed in the dust cloud.
“Aww. It’s gonna be ugly!”
“It has to be done.”
“Hmmm. I know! I’ll turn it into a garden pond.”
“Right. Just don’t let it get infested with algae monsters.”
“Hehehe. You’re funny, Row.”
“I’m serious.”
“Kay.”
“An underground storeroom is much better.”
“This far out?”
“A backup storeroom for extra food.”
Her mouth made sucking noises in her contemplation. “I want a garden though. This can be my palace. I want a palace!”
“Nevermind,” he said, smirking. “We’ll see what we’ll do with this mine.” He picked up the crate and headed over for another load.
The rest of the evening, three hours, slipped away like viscous honey through Rowan’s fingers. Nightfall swept, and much of the topsoil still remained. When the moon was bright over the mountains, the Miners had made less than three hundred cubic yards worth of progress on the first yard-deep layer. A usable stockpile of limestone was growing; the Miners carried chunks without strain thanks to their magic.
This was going to take a monumental amount of work.
Easy math ran through Rowan’s head. Thirty cubes could be removed per hour per Miner with a thirty second cooldown to remove a quarter of a cube. Roughly ten thousand cubes with two Miners made for hundreds of man hours. Eight-hour work days would make this a two week project. More given Faenin’s injury. That was the worst case scenario, of course. If the gold ore was high quality, then there were no worries.
When the sun dipped below the horizon, the half moons were bright among a elliptical band of stars. Rowan called for a halt, his eyes blurry as exhaustion kicked in. “Alright, everyone. Wash up in the stream if you want, then hit the hay.”
“We have no hay,” Liluth said. “Our grass stockpile is still drying.”
He exhaled. “It’s a Human expression, don’t worry. Just get some sleep. Gabby will watch for threats tonight.”
“Huh?” Gabrielle blurted. “Why me?”
“Because you slept for half the day. Do you even have a Sleep Deprivation debuff?”
“Yes.” Her eyes waltzed from corner to corner. “Nah, just kidding. I’ll keep a lookout.”
“Good. Wake us if—”
“What do ya think I am? Incompetent?”
He smirked, holding back a yawn. “I’m just sleep-talking.” He stretched his back and limbs, bones clicking. “Let’s go!”
“Yes, Lord LeMort,” a few said.
The slaves walked with the limbs and faces of
risen dead. All the slaves but one. Zaine was alert and ready for conflict, flourishing and stabbing his precious iron sword with practiced katas. “Hi-ya! Hi-ya! Hi-ya!” Oodles of fun was being had there.
He’s only a teenage boy, Rowan reminded himself. “Zaine. How old are you?”
“Fifteen seasons.” Which translated to perhaps a fifteen or sixteen year old Human on Earth.
“You’re quite tall for your age. How come you’re not tired? Teenage hormones?”
“What are hormones?”
“It’s just what we call teenage energy and vigor.” Rowan couldn’t be bothered explaining.
But Gabrielle could: “They’re tiny things in your body makes that make you grow into an adult. It’s in your blood. They’re smaller than ya can see even if ya had like a hundred points in Agility.”
Partial comprehension dawned upon Zaine. “Oh, I think I know what you mean, but it’s not that. I had a nap earlier. It turns out, luckily for us, that three log units per hour is closer to four with these pine trees.”
Lucky again. Rowan said, “Good to hear. Why don’t you go on lookout with Gab? Unless you want to keep mining?”
Faenin said from afar, “Mines are more dangerous at night, even with what we have dug. His use of Miner magic can react and cause insectoid monsters to spawn.”
Oh, right. Rowan swallowed. Infestations were in the patch notes. They’re more common now. And Tasha died multiple times to scorpions before the patch. Better not risk it here.
Zaine’s brows rose gradually, his face glowing in the moonlight. “That is correct. But I think I’ll keep Mi—”
“No.” Rowan wasn’t having any of it. “You’re on lookout duty with Gab. We’re not having you fighting insects while everyone sleeps.”
“Fine,” Zaine grumbled, but something dastardly blipped across his face. “Can I kiss Gab?”
An earth-shaking choke sent saliva into Rowan’s nose. Where in Draesear’s Hell did that come from? “Only if you want to be butchered. I need some shoes and a coat.”
“In that case… I will think about it.”
“Don’t try it.”
“Hehehehe,” Gabrielle snickered. “Come on, boys, dun’ fight over lil’ ol’ Gabby. She’s not that special.”
Zaine said, “You are a touch crazy, I must say.”
“I am the most normal Demon girl here. Hmph.” Her forked tongue poked.
Rowan shot a hard glare. “Viola’s still single, and we do have a population shortage. I hear you’re down to quarter of a million Sun Elves. How about her?”
Something different clouded those Elven eyes. He was about to say something, but instead frowned and shrugged, mumbling, “She is… a bit old for me. Seriously.”
And Gabrielle was older. A grunt of agreement lifted Rowan’s chin. “Thought so.”
Of course, Zaine was just pulling at loose threads, but this particular thread was attached to a nerve, attached to all his sensitive spots that likely needed some special protection in terms of armor. The thought smacked his ear: no one had access any armor or accessories—a big danger.
I need to put Luthias to work on that tomorrow morning. He better not sabotage anything.
Rowan gave Zaine, the little rascal, a last firm look, then strode ahead toward one of the two streams. A couple of days had passed since his last in-game wash, and this tattered linen garb needed another thorough wringing. Some cleaning magic could help here…
* * *
Sleep was a valuable resource, and Rowan didn’t know how much of it he had scrounged up when Gabrielle’s yelp pulled him out of a dreamless slumber. The room was dark, and moonlight was falling through the glass panel and open door. Owls were hooting in the distance.
He jumped off the bed, mentally slapped himself alert. “What is it?!” he yelled.
“Just a that rat again, sorry,” she called. “It grew.”
“Disgusting,” he muttered. His stomach again as the rat invaded his imagination. “Zaine! Did you kill it?!”
No reply.
Gabrielle said, “He fell asleep a while ago.”
“Whatever. Lazy ass.” Exhaling, Rowan climbed back onto the bed, pressing the reeds and grass flat. It was soft enough. He was asleep in seconds.
* * *
Blaring, high-pitched dings jolted Rowan out of a deep sleep, his eyes crusted over.
Gabby LeMort demands your assistance!
“Spiders! Spiders! Spiders! Spider attack! Get up! Get up! Get up!”
And he was up. His heart banged against his ribcage, skipped a beat. This couldn’t be good. But please be something good! Just weak spiders, please.
Moonfyre at the ready, Rowan sprinted outside to the sight of Zaine skewering a giant spider through the head, blue goo splattering. Monstrously big, it was the size of a donkey. White hairs grew on a fatty ebony limbs and a shiny carapace protecting its back. Two sets of bunch aqua blue eyes glowed dimly.
A freezing shiver rode up Rowan’s back and dulled his inner fiery magic. His own hairs stood straight.
Mutated Huntsman Spider Drone (Level 8)
Health: 4%
Only level 8?
His eyes skipped toward many bunches of glowing eyes coming through the forest, all similar levels. With a mental sweep he pinned health bars to the game interface, tracking their locations.
A spider raid. Just great.
“Hi-ya!” Zaine lopped that club-shaped head right off. He laughed, a mad grin on his face. He was enjoying this far too much.
That was easy, Rowan mused. I guess it was only level eight for a reason.
A second spider crawled through the grass, and an arrow, glowing with a jade outline, impaled a leg to the ground. The spider squirmed and thrashed, and when it broke free, a second magic-infused arrow tore into its eyes. It stopped moving entirely. Skylar was wielding the crude longbow Rowan had crafted for Gabrielle.
Blurred speed, Zaine dashed and delivered an uppercut, bifurcating its head, cleanly. Pinkish brains and blue goop spilled onto the grass—as well as something else from a pierced sack by its mouth. The contents, runny and colorless, ate into the grass and inches of soil, fuming and bubbling.
“Acid!” Zaine jumped backward with astounding speed. That couldn’t be very good for his bones, but he was fine. And most fortunately, out of all things, his sword was alive. He wiped the flat of the blade on the ground thrice on both sides for extra measure.
Two more spiders came side by side.
Twin magic arrows stopped them dead in their tracks.
A third was coming with its rear leading the way. A thick white substance shot out from a hidden opening among muddy hairs and broadened into a ten yard net.
Zaine, in his overconfidence, was caught and pinned to the grass.
From the forest, a lankier spider lunged at him.
Emotionless, Rowan let his Demonic magic loose, simply pointed with his index finger. Heat surged down his arm, the familiar ecstasy of his power vibrating in his bones. A narrow jet of normal fire bathed that elongated head. Its health bar simply vanished. Its burning corpse rolled across the field.
Easy.
But Rowan mana bar at the bottom-right, he noticed, was down to eighty percent. Maybe points in Mysticism would be smart.
Rolling in webs, Zaine dodged the corpse. “Help!”
“On it.” Gabrielle dashed from behind and cut him loose with the mithril dagger, except she was not his regular Demonic Gabrielle. A gloomy miasma veil hung over her body, and her body was transparent. Gleaming, a line ebony runes were stacked down her left cheek, trailed down her neck into her linen garb.
Shroud of Shadows—the Agility Path. On a Priest? Why? But no matter. She knew what we was doing.
Rowan focused on the corpse.
Mutated Baby Huntsman Jumper Spider Corpse (Level 11)
Missing Parts: 15% (Head)
Spoiled, Burning
A mouthful for a name, and already spoiled? Well, I wasn’t going to try i
nsect meant anyway.
Another Jumper Spider came flying from the left, screeching murder. Skylar’s arrow plucked it out the air, but it wasn’t finished. Those long hairy legs collected and propelled its body toward Zaine, who was charging at the incoming Drones.
Rowan kept his breaths steady and cooked that Jumper with a second, stronger fire jet. The wide beam incinerated the thing whole, and incinerated his mana by forty damned percent.
Another Jumper swung on a silk line from atop a pine tree.
Rowan yanked Zaine’s thread, pulled him back by force, and briefly noted that the others were nearby. They were all ready to run into the fray with makeshift wooden weaponry, though they couldn’t do much here. Not Luthias the scarred, and not Viola who needed a bow.
Why didn’t Liluth make her one?
Yet another two Jumpers came from opposite directions, hungry for Zaine.
Rowan cooked the left one before it could do whatever nastiness to his best though somewhat untactful slave, leaving the other for Skylar, who impaled it onto a tree trunk. Again, easy.
But Rowan’s mana was now spent. The blue bar was regenerating at a pathetic rate. Trickling rightward. He could feel a void in his heart—a hollow where pure magic could fill, and it was filling at a dribble. The unnatural feeling coaxed anxiety to creep up on him.
Three sly Drones crawled into melee range of the workshop, ignoring everyone. Their mouths opened. Streams of acid spewed onto the wood. An entire wall dissolved, fumed away, and one of the stoves crumbled in the fallout.
A bizarre turn of events. Just what was happening? Why did they hate the workshop? Rowan pinched his cheek to make sure he wasn’t still asleep.
“Nooooo! My workshop!” Gabrielle cried. She dashed on silent feet. The Bone Mithril Dagger glinted with a coat of darkness, and she decapitated the first spider with ease. An assassin Demon girl, a devil’s bride, she made beautifully quick work of all three. The corpses were disintegrating from where the blade touched. Unholy Might was truly living up to its name.
At the right, Zaine swatted away a Jumper, but another caught onto his arm. And bit him.
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