BlueShear
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Chapter 38
🕑 Added 2025-01-10 03:02:08 +0000 UTCCHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT
Richard took the time to polish off the rest of the butchered elite before they finally set out for the clearing. Eventually all that was left was a graveyard of bones, perfectly picked clean, and a pot bellied infant far too full for his liking.
Through dogged repetition, your ability [Super Enhanced Metabolism] has ranked up in proficiency.
[Super Enhanced Metabolism] has reached lvl 5
[Super Enhanced Metabolism] has reached lvl 6
[…]
[Super Enhanced Metabolism] has reached lvl 8
Continue to push past your limits, discover creative solutions, and apply your ability in unorthodox ways to further increase its proficiency.
More than once throughout the grueling process—when he felt like he couldn’t stomach a strip of taffy more—he thought about asking Penelope to bring out her legendary regalia. The aura of insatiable hunger it projected would’ve come in pretty darn handy. Especially in those moments when the contents of his stomach were threatening to rebel. Every time he thought about asking her, however, he recalled the slight warmth of her embrace, saw the brightness in her eyes.
Then he’d look down at his own hands—drenched in the blood of thousands—and mentally recoil.
No. He would do this alone. Hadn’t that always been the way?
A light breeze cooled the sweat on his brow, and a figure from the past flowed over him—swimming through the air like a fish through water. When she spoke, she made no noise, and yet Richard couldn’t make himself look away.
“Not always…” she mouthed, before she vanished just as quickly as she’d come.
Banished from his sight just as he banished her from his memory. They weren’t good memories. He was better off without them. Angrily, Richard tore a stretchy chunk free and stuffed it in his mouth. Gnawing on it with his gums before forcing it down with a painful swallow. He reveled in the pain. He deserved it.
Of course, that was when the lump of taffy got stuck halfway down his throat, and he was forced to scramble for a water bottle or choke to death. A few frantic pounds on his ribcage and a drained water bottle later, and he was once more allowed to release a sigh of relief.
Okay, so even I can admit that was stupid, he admonished.
He made a sour face, silently castigating himself.
I can mope and moan all I want, but it doesn’t change the fact that all of those needless deaths would be made even more meaningless if I died pointlessly. There’ll be time to atone for my sins I’m sure. Later. Much later, when I’m strong enough to do what’s necessary. For now though…?
He looked around at the messy glade, looking over at Penelope, as she floated over to join in on a game of hopscotch. Watched as she completely botched the rules—due, in large part, to the whole flight thing she had going on—but, bobbing up and down, she seemed to be having fun. And the others didn’t seem to mind either. Laughing, smiling, their faces radiant, almost blinding.
He watched them, as if through frosted glass, felt that sharp twinge of guilt and remorse, then set it aside. Placed it in a box, taped up said box till it was air tight, then shoved that same box into the far corner of an unused attic under a bag of dusty Christmas decorations.
With practiced ease, he re-donned his mask of studied indifference. He wasn’t as much of a third party observer as he had been in his last timeline, but that still didn’t mean he had to care. They weren’t children in need of his protection, merely tools to be used to his advantage. A means to an end. That was all. If he said it enough times, one of these days he might even believe it.
Richard smirked. It was forced, just like all of them were. In fact, now that he thought about it, he hadn’t genuinely smiled since… since…
A breeze caressed his brow, snapping him from his revery.
“Alrighty, pack it up folks. In five minutes, we march!”
In response to his cry, the nuisances—the children—eagerly sprang to obey.
Richard did likewise. Strapping on a couple of propulsion daggers, just in case, before shrugging on his backpack, and snatching up his freshly repaired spear. Grunting with satisfaction, he was just about to lead the way out of the glade, when a message popped up in the center of his vision.
<Penelope Green> Can eat?
Richard frowned, scanned his surroundings.
Now where did the little bugger run off to?
Then he spotted her. Hovering at the very center of the clearing, she was eyeing the spawning orb like it was the chocolate cake to end all chocolate cakes. He even thought she saw her drooling a little.
She must have sensed the mana.
His frown deepened.
Or… maybe she sees it?
He shook his head.
I’m not really surprised that she’s interested. It’s unlike any other mana source I’ve ever come into contact with. It would have to be. It’s the Systems mana, after all. Or, at least a small sliver of it. A part of the framework that makes this whole thing possible.
He grunted.
And of course, my voracious student wants to eat it. Why am I not surprised?
Honestly he highly doubted she could, no matter how stubborn she was. Even at the height of their power, not even the six imperials were able to wield the system’s mana. As far as he knew, it was outright impossible to move it, let alone eat it. Although…
The other imperials couldn’t do it, but if it was her, then maybe…
Richard bit his lip. Then, almost unbidden, his gaze strayed towards the half dozen curious faces eagerly crowding around the orb, but not daring to touch it or get too close. Richard shook his head.
No, better not to risk it. Later, maybe. Once she’s grown into her power a little, and we can handle the possible consequences… but until that time…?
“No, we don’t eat these. They’re poison,” Richard lied through his teeth.
The girl recoiled, as if stung—frowning at the orb as if it’d betrayed her in some way. The kids, likewise, took a wary step back. Although, considering they hadn’t actually been contemplating nomming down on the perfectly round donut hole in the air, they weren’t nearly so dismayed as the empress had been. Like the Red Sea, they parted before him when he approached, nearly tripping over themselves to make room.
He chalked that up to lack of coordination on there part, rather than a suddenly heightened respect for his authority. Passing Penelope—who was still mean mugging the spawning orb something fierce—he reached out, and, without any fanfare or ceremony, poked the orb.
With a loud popping sound, it burst like a soap bubble. Then, of course, came the rain of confetti, the blinking lights, and finally, that oh so familiar casino jingle. Suddenly, as if it’d always been there, there was an honest to gods slot machine standing right there in front of them. As if pulled straight off the Vegas Strip.
Only two reels? Well I guess this was a fairly low level den. Still, for clearing it solo, I might’ve at least expected three.
Richard carefully studied the reels, and the symbols depicted on them. There really wasn’t much to see. On the leftmost, slowly rotating reel, there was the symbol of a sword with a question mark over it. This pattern repeated twice more. One depicting a chest piece, while another depicted a potion.
So, a random weapon, piece of equipment, or consumable. Seems standard enough.
He moved onto the second reel. There, only two symbols were depicted—rounded diamond shapes in two colors. One of them, a dark gray, took up the vast majority of space on the reel, with the second color diamond, a light gray, only showing its face very rarely.
So Poor and Common rarity, huh? Well, I guess that it would’ve been unrealistic of me to have expected anything more. An almost guaranteed Poor quality drop. As I suspected, not really all that useful. Although, in its defense, I will say the handle is rather fun to pull. That makes up for it, right?
“Don’t gamble kids,” he said, before pulling down on the round red lever with all the baby strength he could muster
The reels began spinning, the jingle grew in tempo, the strobing light show—reds, cyans, golds and magentas—reflected in their eyes. Eyes which were wide with eager anticipation. Even Richard couldn’t help but get excited. Would he strike big? Eventually, the spinning reels slowed from a blurring whirlwind, to a more reasonable pace. The ding, ding, ding, gradually slowing down to a crawl, until, at long last, the spinning stopped, and the machine burst into electronic applause.
•|—CONGRATULATIONS! YOU WON!—|•
YOU RECEIVE: [Sharp Stone Dagger (Poor)]
Richard’s disappointment was immeasurable.
There was a metallic clunk from somewhere inside the machine. Almost begrudgingly, Richard reached down, shoved past the plastic partition, and retrieved his “prize.” Once he’d done so, the machine vanished as if it’d never been there at all.
•—|-Sharp Stone Dagger-|—•
•[Poor]•
A stone dagger that is sharp.
Then, below in red, his Truth Seeker’s Sixth Sense chimed in.
This item possesses no additional attributes or qualities.
It’s so basic not even my skill has anything to say about it.
Disappointed, Richard promptly tossed the useless dagger onto the floor, turned about face, and marched his way out of the glade—immediately dismissing the useless item from his mind. If he’d been paying even the smallest bit of attention, however, he might have noticed how one of their member, a red haired lass, hung back a step, crouched down low to stuff something inside her jacket pocket, before hurrying to catch up with the rest.
+++
They arrived inside the clearing just as the sun was beginning to set on the western horizon, dying the cloudy sky a mix of purples, reds, and oranges. Only fifteen minutes, as it turned out, before a bedraggled procession of rather sullen looking women would tramp their way in through the sparse tree line. This gave them just enough time to discard their soiled clothing and promptly don new sets of system created onesies—Liora’s Embrace ensuring a perfect bill of health and cleanliness for all.
It was to the point that, very soon, Richard feared the idea of personal hygiene would become a foreign concept to these kids altogether. And Richard too, for that matter. They didn’t even need to brush their teeth! Not that he really minded it all that much, it was just a habit that would take some time to shake off.
I mean, talk about convenient. Oh, man. A baby could get used to this.
The adults were eerily silent as they went about the camp—stripping, hosing off, before tending to the campfire, and otherwise winding down for the day. Robin saw to the children. Asking them, in a hoarse voice, all about their day, and seeing that they all got fed. A harsh glare from Richard made sure the little blabbermouths didn’t divulge anything too confidential. And, as far as he could tell, Robin didn’t seem to notice anything was amiss. This despite a few minor slip ups here and there. It was actually almost concerning how oblivious she was.
Barely having the energy to respond at times, she merely carried on with the feeding while the brats talked her ear off. Mechanically, as if she were dead on her feet.
Richard tried to decline her generous offer, afraid the richness of the milk wouldn’t play nicely with the contents of his round belly. But of course, babies have no rights in this world, so he was forced to drain at least half the bottle before she was satisfied. After that, the adults sat around the campfire, digging into their standard meal kits in silence. The mood somber and oddly agitated, the occasional wary glance shot in Denise’s direction, before quickly darting away. The woman herself far too occupied with glaring at a trio of peas, like they’d just murdered her entire family, to notice.
As young children were like to do, they quickly picked up on the tension in the air, and, in turn, were far less animated than he would’ve expected after the kind of day they’d had. In short order, without a joke or even comment shared, the meal was finished, Richard and the kids were shuffled off to bed, and the grownups did whatever grownups did while the kids weren’t around.
Richard lay awake inside the stuffy tent, practically smothered in peacefully sleeping, snoring, and drooling five year olds. Trapped, ostensibly. He let out a sigh. Tried to shift into a more comfortable position. Gave up. Then finally resolved himself to sleep. It was surprisingly difficult. He had things to look forward to, after all. His stat gains, much like traditional body building, would only reveal themselves after a good nights rest. Which ultimately left him in something of a compromised state.
It was ridiculous! Surely this couldn’t be a coincidence. This was the first time he’d felt like a kid on Christmas Eve since, well, since before the integration. Well before.
Richard calmed his racing heart with a series of breathing exercises. Excited though he may be, he was only delaying matters.
Sooner begun, sooner finished. That technically applies here right?
And so, it was with that thought held firmly in mind, that he was finally able to relax.
Just as he was about to let his eyelids slide shut, and finally drift off to the sleep, however, a message alert pinged in the corner of his vision.
<Gorgeous> Hey. You say you know a lot about the system right?
<Watcher> More than any newly integrated person currently alive. Why?
<Gorgeous> Yeah, right well, I need your help.
Richard waited for a moment, but when those three bouncing dots failed to materialize, he wrote.
<Watcher> Elaborate please.
<Gorgeous> My weapon, this… regalia, or whatever it’s called. It’s sh%t.
Richard blinked, pondered for a few seconds, then quickly thought back a single word reply.
<Watcher> Explain.
Comments
Gopard
Thanks for the chapter!
