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The Gamer Chapter 1147 – Metal and Chemicals
🕑 Added 2022-01-25 20:03:29 +0000 UTC‘Soul Crystallization Device,’ John tapped into the window that opened after he had mentally signalled his intent to open the Adventure. He stood among his haremettes in the complete darkness of the unfilled space that lay past the I.D. Gates. All who wanted to accompany him were present, the elementals in their incorporeal form. ‘This better work,’ he thought, having his reservations even now. Raw paranoia, considering that Gaia usually let him have what he desired as long as he worked hard enough for it. Otherwise, the Perk that had enabled this in the first place wouldn’t have shown up.
Overcoming the last vestiges of doubt, John pressed the confirm button. The darkness around them trembled then was rapidly undone, revealing behind its veil another Kingdom.
All of them were too powerful to be hindered by the gas, yet all of them, save for the Artificial Spirits, coughed upon taking their first breath in this new world. It smelled of a mixture of shit and rotting fruits. The air was heavy with that smell and greyish green particles that clouded the air with a thick smog, making each attempt to inhale feel like John was sprinkling dust all over his insides.
Repeatedly blinking against the particles layering on his eyes, John looked around. They were in a city of some kind, with various houses fashioned crudely from stone and iron sticking out of a cliffside. People moved around in the smog. Their silhouettes were ghoulish. Slouched shoulders, hanging heads, and a swaying gait portrayed an utter lack of energy and care. Few stepped close enough that John could make out details. What he saw were malnourished, sickly humans, each of them befallen by the negative status effect of the air. A couple of the Information boxes mentioned the same substance as the debuff: Mettle. None of the people gave John more than a short glance, continuing to sway along.
John wanted to investigate further, but the unpleasant sensation in his lungs drove him to make another call first. “Let’s get to higher ground,” he told his loves. The smog served to obscure them from the vision of the inhabitants of the world. Useful as that was, he would much rather get a read on the situation than hide their unusual appearances.
“For the love of Gaia, please,” Rave croaked.
‘I could clear this up for you, if you want? I really could! Would only take a few seconds or so, maybe less, maybe more, but I could do it!” Sylph palavered in John’s mind, while they searched for a way out of the smog.
‘That’d garner a bit too much attention,’ John posited. Even moving the Mandala Sphere into the airspace above them would likely draw someone’s eye, but they needed some way of orienting themselves.
The smog cloud went easily twenty metres up. John assumed they were in some sort of valley or ravine, allowing the thick gas to gather. Instead, when the Mandala Sphere finally made it out of the greenish-grey cloud, he found that they were at a mountainside. The city they were in sprawled out, the majority of buildings only visible as shadows in the deep fog. Only towers in a clearly wealthier part of town, sticking close to the mountain, rose above the roiling particles. The city descended down a slope and the pollution originated from a massive opening in the mountainside. It was impossible to see inside.
Beyond the city, the smog gradually dispersed, settling in the surrounding landscape and killing everything that was green for kilometres around. Even the greenish property of the particles was gone by then, leaving only a blighted grey scar on the land. It was depressing by every metric.
‘How do these people survive?’ John wondered, and it was a serious question. That humans could exist even in the most depressing conditions was well-known, but everyone had to eat. He couldn’t see any fields anywhere, not even in the green that existed beyond the city. Before he dove deeper into that question, he had to make a decision though. A decision reflected in the first Quest he got.
Going out into the countryside would avoid attention for longer, doubtlessly, but John didn’t feel like his group was in a position that required avoidance. It would take immensely bad luck for them to run face first into someone that could match all of them in a real Kingdom. If this had been Gaia-made, that concern would have been more real.
“We’re going up,” John said, looking over his shoulder. “The smog will get thicker at first. Stick together.” His haremettes nodded. Among them, only Eliana worried John. There appeared to be little reason to. The blood mage was stable and walked along without any major or minor signs of distress. Had it not been for his additional senses, John would have bumped into another humanoid while his head was turned.
‘Bumped into’ was less likely than ‘ran over’. The woman was short and had green skin, leaving John to guess that she was a half-goblin or something similar. Beyond that, she was every bit as thin and sickly as the rest of the humanoids. Lightless eyes flickered over to John, only identifying him as an obstacle to avoid.
“I don’t like any of this,” John said, while they went on further. “Be ready for combat.”
“How ready?” Metra asked.
“Fully ready,” he answered. Metal sung and lights flashed, while the entire group brandished whatever weapons they had. Following his answer, Metra went as far as to manifest her armour. Only Eliana took no immediate action. Drawing forth the power of the goddess of genocide was a bit too much to do on suspicion alone.
The many lights their weapons emitted must have caused the people to avoid them. From that point onwards, all the people stumbling towards them took a sharp turn. Whether that was common sense or trained behaviour, John didn’t dare to guess.
They manoeuvred through the roads of compacted dust and between the houses. In one of the alleys, they met a duo, speaking to each other in hushed tones while injecting a green liquid through a gas-mask-esque device. They stared with shock and fear at the group. ‘No, they’re staring at one of us,’ the Gamer realized, tracing their gazes to Metra. ‘She does look the evilest out of us, but I don’t think that’s the whole reason.’
They advanced without making a hassle. The duo cowered immediately, and the substance they were inhaling was most likely Mettle. While John was tempted to acquire the drug for investigation purposes or at least ask some questions, neither struck him as a successful course of action at this juncture. Better to just keep going.
There was a sudden change in the environment shortly thereafter. They stepped out of the poorest and into one of the wealthier areas. While the earliest towers and heavily fortified houses forged from tightly sealed plates of metal and glass were a good indicator of this district change, what gave it away to John was the air quality. They were past the cone in which the majority of the pollution was spewed out into the city. The constant stream still caused some of the particles to reach here, but it was much less and so breathing became much easier.
A couple of guards stepped forth, humanoids of much better health, with real gas masks covering their faces. They laid one eye on Metra and immediately stopped and returned to their posts.
“What’s up with them?” Rave whispered to her boyfriend.
John was looking for more clues, but presented his theory to her anyway, “Well, we are looking for a device that turns humans into Artificial Spirits, so perhaps the ruling class of this Kingdom are made up of them. Because Metra is the only one obviously made out of metal, they assume that she’s a noble of some kind?” The Gamer felt the odd stares of the surrounding humans on them. ‘Metra, take the lead.’
‘As you wish, my king,’ she responded and swiftly made her way to the head of their party. Immediately the odd stares stopped, leading further credence to John’s theory.
Ultimate confirmation came when they were stopped by a metal humanoid. Their form resembled a mixture of a skeleton and armour. Arms and legs were solid rods of metal, with only the hands and feet retaining the size they would have had in flesh and blood. The torso was mostly intact, with cast iron replacing the midriff and gaps showing where ribs would be. The head rotated on a stiff neck.
“Hail to the Emperor, Ironborn,” the person greeted them, their jaw opening fluidly like it would on a biological entity and the Artificial Spirits John already knew. The stiffness seemed to be more of a fashion statement than a genuine lack of manoeuvrability. “Why do you bring creatures with you?” The green dots that replaced the eyes in the hairless, cast-iron skull flickered at John. “Why is that one so amused?”
The reason for this was, although he still hated the environment between the tall towers, that one Observe at this ‘Ironborn’ was enough to confirm various important factors. Number one, he was a human that had acquired a metal body. The procedure was not outlined, only that it came from the ‘Emperor’. That did in turn confirm that it was something someone could do for someone else. Beyond that, their appearance was evidence for his ruling class theory.
“Creature?” Rave asked, not particularly happy about that title.
“Silence, creature,” the Ironborn thundered. Literally, as electrical currents danced between his ribs and fingers. Pale green light shimmered within the hollow torso. “Poorly civilized serfs like you… are you an initiate, is this why you even dare speak to me, fleshbag?” His tone immediately became diplomatic. “Please, fellow Ironborn, explain the reason for your honoured visit. State your rank, that you may be quartered appropriately.”
“How about you start with yours?” Metra asked and lifted Rex Magnar onto her shoulder. The halberd riffed menacingly, itself unleashing some electricity that rivalled the deliberate discharge by the Ironborn. They got the message that they were dealing with someone stronger and submissively lowered their head.
“I’m Lord of the 9th district of Chelmea, Ironborn Ramun.”
‘That useful for you?’ Metra asked.
‘Nothing Observe didn’t tell me,’ John answered truthfully. ‘Can you ask about his superior?’
“Jog my memory, who do you serve again?” Metra asked.
Ramun tilted his head and bowed forwards in an inspecting fashion. It appeared Metra’s tone displeased him. Regardless, he answered, “I serve Baroness Kalmira, ruler of Chelmea. Shall I call her?”
“And what’s above her?” Rave asked.
“Silence, creature!” Ramun snapped back immediately. “Open your mouth when your superiors ask!”
‘Have him call her,’ John instructed Metra. They could have easily taken care of this Lord. He was level 50, not threatening to any of them. He wanted to estimate Ramun’s relative importance, however, and by extension general power levels in this world. If those two even were related. ‘And be nice when you pick your words. Seems like Ironborn are very cordial when speaking to each other.’
‘If I have to,’ Metra groaned mentally and raised her voice in a sickly-sweet tone. It was so girly, it didn’t fit her at all. “If you could be a dear, fellow Ironborn, and call the Baroness, that would be really, really nice of you.”
Observe revealed that Ramun was no longer angry. He was, however, confused. That was the better of the two though. The issue was that Eliana was cackling. “These creatures you accompany with a truly detestable,” the Lord remarked. “I will contact Baroness Kalmira. Please, wait in my tower, the guest room is on the second floor.” He gestured towards an entrance to his right. “May I ask what I should tell her?”
“No, it is a secretive endeavour,” Metra answered and entered through the door. The rest of the group followed her. If Ramun took offense with that, it wasn’t enough to bother calling them out.
The base floor of the tower was an isolation chamber. A couple of maids awaited them there, women of slightly better looks than the average peasants and with masks over their lower faces, warding off any traces of the smog. Respectfully, the group were presented with brushes. That allowed them to get the majority of dust off their skin and clothes, before they advanced up a staircase and into a nicely outfitted guest room. The maids waited where they were, staring emptily ahead.
The sole window allowed them to look down into the smoggy streets and a little bit out into the slums beyond the high towers. Because it was only the second floor, that view didn’t reach particularly far. Inside the room were numerous books and equipment for drawing, measuring, and a large variety of other intellectual work. John walked along and inspected these utensils.
“Shit was hilarious, Mat,” Eliana said to the First of Wrath. “I didn’t even know you could sound like that.”
“You have to entertain yourself somehow when dealing with politicians.”
“Ya got any clue about this world yet?” Rave asked, while her boyfriend opened one book after another. There were several different writing systems between them, none of which he knew. The spoken language was either translated or, by cosmic coincidence, the same as English. Text wasn’t afforded the same luxury.
John dismissed the window; he had no intention to leave.
“Given the importance of titles so far, some kind of feudal society where Ironborn serve as the aristocracy and biologicals as serfs?” John made it sound like a question, as he wasn’t entirely sure yet. On one of the many tables in the large room, he found a map. It only depicted the city and the surrounding area. ‘I suppose this is the sign for 9?’ he theorized, as one of the districts was highlighted. All of the other numbers could have been anything. “He did say there were ‘initiates’, so they must be dealing with the lack of reproduction by elevating some people based on one criteria or another.”
“I’d guess its strength,” Metra said. “He didn’t dare to ask details after seeing Rex Magnar.”
“Could’ve been intimidation,” Rave suggested.
“He wasn’t intimidated,” John answered. “Observe worked fine and it said he was respectful. He assumed Metra was more important than him, likely based on the power hierarchy. Chances are high that it is based on power.” He grabbed something that looked like a compass. “I wonder if they have a north pole here.” The device clacked when he put it back on the metal shelf. “If this room is anything to go by, they do also study extensively. A warrior culture would present weapons to visitors.”
All of that was guesswork until they had someone to talk to.
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