An Otherworldly Scholar - 169

Ilya and I sat outside the tent, sipping tea from our enchanted mugs. Besides fighting the occasional wave of undead, there wasn’t much to do in Umolo, so I focused on enchanting. Carved in the mug's base was a Fire enchantment. With a little bit of mana, we could warm up the contents without the need to start a fire. There was a difference between the things I could enchant and those I should. At full power, I could make a Fire rune to boil water, but it wouldn’t be safe to touch, and wood wasn’t the safest material for engraving fire runes. However, as long as I kept the Mana Threshold—the enchantment power—below 50, Fire runes were harmless.

There was more to power graduation than I initially thought. The enchantment behavior drastically changed according to the Mana Threshold used. The Fire rune, at its maximum power, 300 Mana Threshold, released a basketball-size fireball or a slightly smaller fire vortex. At 100 Mana Threshold, the Fire rune could turn metal or stone into a cooking surface. At the 50 Mana Threshold mark, it could make warm clothing.

I could ‘underpower’ enchantments before getting [Rune Identification]—I enchanted my Warm Stones hot enough not to burn down the forest—but having a visible numerical value made the process easier to follow and reproduce. It helped, especially when I wanted to keep the enchantment below an item’s Enchantment Threshold.

The daggers we had scavenged from the Sentinel’s watchtower had an Enchantment Threshold of 600. Although finely crafted, the daggers couldn’t fit a Vampiric-Fire enchantment without degrading over time. I had considered turning the kid’s weapons into Leechflame Swords, but that worked against our new fighting style. 

“Vampiric arrows or blowgun darts seem to be the better option,” Ilya said out of nowhere.

I couldn't stop thinking about the problem either.

It was the fourth day since our arrival at Umolo, and my attempts to make an anti-Chrysalimorph weapon had fallen short. Luckily, no Chrysalimorph had attacked Umolo, but it was a matter of time. The longer the Monster Surge went on, the more bodies the Forest Warden could turn.

“Maybe we should settle for Vampiric Arrowheads and distribute them among Pyrrah, Hallas, and you,” I said.

“I don’t trust them,” Ilya grunted.

The matter of the Forest Warden Seed came up again, and the elves swore they wouldn’t use it for nefarious purposes, but that was all we had—a promise. I suspected the Seed was related to the Holone Grapes and the secret methods elves used to exploit magic. Ilya thought the same. We couldn’t tell how they’d act after obtaining the Seed, and Vampiric Arrowheads were the quintessential mage-killer weapons. We couldn’t risk them turning them against us.

We could technically bind the arrowheads to prevent Hallas and Pyrrah from using them, but that raised another set of problems. For starters, orc arrowheads didn’t have an exceptionally high Enchantment Threshold, so wasting space in a Bind enchantment would weaken the Vampiric effect.

Ilya channeled mana into her cup, and the tea inside steamed again. 

“We don’t have time to get everyone else’s bow skills up to par, the blowgun’s range is laughable, and we don’t have access to your so-called rubber,” she said.

A slingshot would’ve been nice, but I had no idea how to make vulcanized rubber.

“It seems we are in Ginz’s hands,” I said.

“Not a thing I wanted to hear early in the morning,” Ilya replied, sipping her tea. “I might have forgiven him, but that doesn’t erase the fact he left us after Risha and Astrid disappeared.”

Distrustful as ever.

“I wonder if I’m also listed in Ilya’s Huge Book of Grudges,” I jokingly said.

“You have been shattering my childhood dreams lately, but you are in the clear for now,” Ilya replied. “Do you think Ginz could make us guns?”

“I hope so.”

The conversation died, and we sipped the tea in silence. Now that I had access to the Bind rune, I was ready to create more dangerous weapons. Suddenly, a loud crash came from inside the tent. Ilya and I jumped to our feet and rushed inside. Wolf was lying on the floor with a wooden bucket on his head. He grunted and rubbed his lower back.

Firana laughed on the floor, curled into a ball.

“It came loose,” Zaon announced.

Bind’s effect also varied wildly depending on the Mana Threshold. At maximum power, the rune served to identify its rightful user. However, from 1 to 99 Mana Threshold, the rune just ‘glued’ items, almost like a magnet. Wolf applied [Regeneration] on his back. A 99 Mana Threshold Bind enchantment could support Wolf’s weight for a few minutes before failing. In practical terms, I had discovered magical superglue. I waited for Ginz’s input before deciding how practical the binding effect would be for crafting.

“Swinging was a bad idea,” Zaon said.

“I was limit-testing,” Wolf replied.

I couldn’t decide if the Rune’s variant effects were genius or just spaghetti code in action, but one thing was for sure: I had a blast enchanting stuff for the kids. Firana wanted instant-drying socks, so I combined the Wind with a low-power Fire rune. The enchantment worked most of the time, leaving the socks nice and warm in a few seconds.

I tried to activate the Fire and Wind runes separately so that the enchanted socks would double as warm and instant-drying socks, but it was one way or the other. While I tried to devise a convenient power source for the socks, I discovered I could combine the Absorption and Recharge runes. Absorption gathered environmental mana and stored it inside the Recharge rune. Still, the process was so slow that a standalone Recharge rune was a better pick for most mana-intensive enchantments. Absorption-Recharge worked well with the instant-drying socks because it was an enchantment needed once or twice a day.

Not everything was progress, though. Ilya’s Cooldown Bow hadn’t revealed any new runes. The runes it used had to be too high of a level for me. The lack of an elemental rune in the Cooldown Bow caught my attention. It wasn’t the wind that propelled the arrow forward, but it seemed like the bow drew kinetic energy from somewhere.

It didn’t take an expert to realize the potential of such a rune.

On the bright side, the Twin Rings had revealed something interesting.

Force. Elemental Rune. Rank I. [Rune Identification]: This rune represents the primal magic energy. Affinities: Bone, Iron, Silver. Mana Threshold: 1500.

Guide. Effect Rune. Rank I. [Rune Identification]: This rune represents the essence of insight and direction. Affinities: Tin, Gold, Paper. Mana Threshold: 100.

Link. Effect Rune. Rank I. [Rune Identification]: Copper, Pewter, Wood. This rune represents the unseen connection between faraway entities. Affinities: Mana Threshold: 100.

The Force rune ignited my interest, but I only dared to use it in its weakened form. It was similar to the Wind rune, although its range was shorter and the blow much stronger. After some experimentation, I concluded it had the same effect as wrapping a blunt weapon, or even my fists, in mana.

The Link rune allowed me to entangle the effects of an enchantment across two objects; however, the strength of the enchantment seemed to be capped. So far, my most powerful invention was the Linked Mugs. It required four times as much mana as two self-heating mugs and couldn’t be activated separately, so it was far from efficient. But it worked.

The Guide rune was the most underwhelming of the set. When used in a circuit with Link and an elemental rune, it pointed towards its ‘twin’ using the elemental rune as the signal. I thought of enchanting a complex communication device, but all my attempts had failed so far.

“Stop fooling around and eat your breakfast. I want everyone ready if monsters attack,” I said, turning around and exiting the tent. 

Several wooden bowls had appeared on a workbench by the side of the tent.

“They did it again,” Ilya said, standing beside me.

Since the day after the first Ghoul attack, orcs have given us gifts and offerings. They’d leave wooden bowls with spices, flowers, charms, and small carved animals outside the tent. All of our needs were already covered. However, the offerings had little to do with basic sustenance. 

“They call Wolf the Thunder Warrior,” Ilya said.

Wolf had become the de facto shotgun user since we arrived at Umolo. He had shot it only a few times, but the sound was impossible to conceal, even on the battlefield. Orcs were keener than I initially credited them, and the stories of the ‘thunder weapon’ spread like wildfire.

“Wolf has become quite the celebrity,” I said.

A System user who fought without using skills was a strange sight.

“I’m sure some of these are for you,” Ilya said, grabbing a bowl of spice and bringing it near her nose. She sneezed. The sound was cute, like a tiny mouse, but I didn't mention it.

Although orcs didn’t have inner commerce—they just shared their stuff to optimize the group's survival—they still showed gratitude with gifts.

My enchanted armor had emboldened Dassyra’s warriors. Warchief Callaid and the other chieftains weren’t pleased with Dassyra’s daily haul of trophies. However, they were wise enough to keep their warriors within Umolo walls when undead System-users appeared. Orcs were too pragmatic to risk their lives in a losing fight, and no amount of competition would get them to make a rash decision. Survival always came first.

Ilya examined the offerings, stalling her stay outside the tent.

“What’s on your mind?” I asked.

“The Greyfangs seem to be interested in Wolf,” she said, handing me a bowl with the tusk sigil of the Umolo elite warriors.

We all noticed, but they hadn’t tried to contact him until now. I grabbed the bowl and examined its contents. It was cinnamon. I wonder if it had a special meaning in orc culture or was just a fragrant ingredient for infusions.

“I don’t trust them,” Ilya said, lowering her voice. “They are using elemental skills, and nobody seems to bat an eye. I thought orcs hated the System.”

“Dassyra says those are temporary Shaman blessings, but I’m not convinced either. System magic is different from natural magic,” I whispered, and Ilya gave me a curious look. “The System is, in essence, a middleman between the Fountain and the users. Raw Fountain mana is harmful in huge quantities, so we can naturally manage small amounts only.”

I pulled a strand of pure white Fountain mana and turned it into a small knife.

Ilya nodded in silence, absorbing the knowledge.

“The System refines raw Fountain, allowing us to use pre-recorded skills that otherwise we couldn’t summon, like your [Mana Arrow] or Zaon’s [Steadfast Shield],” I explained. 

This time, I pulled a blue strand from my mana pool and shaped it into a comb.

“The mana Greyfangs use is System processed mana, without a doubt.”

Ilya put the cinnamon bowl back on the workbench and channeled her mana into a bright blue arrow. [Mana Arrow]. Then, she tried to do the same using [Mana Manipulation]. The outcome was almost the same. However, after a couple of meters, the [Mana Manipulation] arrow would dissolve into nothing.

“The Man-in-yellow must’ve been really smart to come up with all the skills by himself then,” Ilya said, rekindling the discussion of a few nights before. She was determined to defend the System creator’s honor.

“The Man-in-yellow cribbed a lot. Hunter, Warrior, Knight, and Healer are archetypes back home. I guess Zealot is kind of novel. He might have wanted to avoid the most common religion-related archetypes.” I could almost pinpoint the games and books he used as inspiration.

Ilya sighed. “This is so lame. I preferred when the System was a thing of myth and legend. Classes and Skills used to look so cool. So mysterious.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. I was also disappointed when I realized Santa, the Tooth Fairy, and Narnia weren’t real. Sometimes, I wished to have inherited my mother’s faith in religion, but unfortunately, I was born a cynic like my father.

“This world still has a bigger secret than the System,” I said. “Beyond the boundaries of our mana pools is the Fountain—a magical presence with the strength of a thousand suns. That’s the true source of magic, and I can’t even start guessing why it exists or how living beings can draw energy from it. Something like magic, like the Fountain, shouldn’t exist. It’s a bit scary if you think about it.”

Ilya looked at me straight in the eye and groaned.

“I should be less grumpy.”

I couldn't understand why she had reached that conclusion.

“You make everyone feel nice with a few words, and I can’t say I have the same effect on people, so maybe I should try to be less grumpy,” Ilya said, somewhat embarrassed. She hid behind her mug, sipping the leftovers of the tea.

Her words caught me by surprise.

“Well, Ilya, you are like an onion. You have several layers, which is more than you can say about many people. To reach your charming side, they must suffer the irritating and quarrelsome layers first,” I jokingly said.

Ilya choked on her tea, but before she could reply, an orc warrior approached us.

“Chieftain Dassyra wishes to see you,” he said, and without even waiting for an answer, he left.

I grinned. It was the fourth day of our stay at Umolo, which meant my delivery was due. “Want to tag along, Miss Onion?” I asked.

“You are asking for a whole chapter in my Huge Book of Grudges, Robert Clarke,” she laughed. “And yes, I want to tag along.”

____________

Ilya strolled to catch up to my pace. Life at the Teal Moon tribe camp was strangely peaceful. Orcs plowed the plots between tents while others repaired tools and weaved summer clothes. They were too pragmatic to be worried. The sight was almost idyllic, and it would be if waves of undead hadn’t attacked the walls every day.

Dozens of orc scouts went in and out of Umolo daily, and the chieftains believed the Monster Surge was receding. I wasn’t so sure that was the case. However, my warnings didn’t seem to worry Dassyra. I blamed the effectiveness of my enchanted armor. The silver lining was that Dassyra’s people prepared for an extended stay at Umolo, although I couldn’t say if my assessment had influenced her decision.

We crossed the main square, and Dassyra’s guards moved aside. 

“Hello?” I called, but there was no one inside.

In the middle of the tent was a big burlap sack. Suddenly, Ginz’s head emerged from the hole, looking around in confusion. The whole kidnapping thing was a cover-up, but I started to think orcs missed the idea. Ginz’s eyes shot open as he saw me. He wasn’t happy.

“Tell me I’m dead. Please, for the love of everything that’s good, tell me I’m dead,” the Craftsman said, defeated.

My hopes for a heartwarming reunion crashed down.

“You are very much alive, and you still have lots of work to do before dying,” I grinned, loosening the burlap sack. 

Ginz refused to come out, his face red in anger. “I hate you so much, Robert Clarke. Do you know how scared I was when two orcs appeared out of nowhere in my workshop? They put me inside a sack, Rob! A burlap sack! Risha even gagged me first!”

“How is Elincia?” I asked, ignoring Ginz’s tantrum.

“Oh, she’s great. She’s already over you. She found a better-looking Scribe and got married a week ago. An upgrade, if you ask me. In fact, nobody misses you, and the whole orphanage is in a better place without your shenanigans,” Ginz growled. His eyes trailed over my shoulder. “Oh. Hi, Ilya.”

“Hi, Ginz,” she replied, more amused than anything.

Knowing everyone was doing well back at home took a weight off my shoulders.

“Ok, Ginz, things go as follows. I’ve pissed off a powerful undead magician, and now he and his army of high-level monsters are after me. We need weapons, and we have ten days until we get kicked out of the orc’s city,” I said.

Ginz pulled the burlap sack over his head and curled into a ball. 

“Should I?” Ilya asked.

I nodded. 

She grabbed the sack from the bottom and, planting her feet firmly on the floor, tugged it with all her strength. Despite Hunter’s relatively low strength growth, Ilya was far from the flimsy gnome I met months ago. The sack flew, and Ginz fell with a thud, still curled into a ball. He wasn’t done with his rant.

“How could you do this to me? There is a Monster Surge outside, and I’m a crafting class! I will die here just when the royals start noticing my creations. My fame! I want my life back!”

I ignored Ginz’s grievances and looked at the orcs’ backpacks. The metal glinted like solid gold as soon as I opened them. I counted at least seven barrels. I reached and pulled one out. It was cold and smooth, a little heavier than I expected. And it was our ticket back to Farcrest.

“You have outdone yourself,” I said, genuinely surprised.

Ginz got on his feet and stretched her back.

“Each one of us dealt with your disappearance the best we could,” he replied, dragging a table to the center of the room next to the firepit and arranging his materials. 

I felt guilty about leaving the orphanage in the dark.

“What happened that day? Are the other kids safe?” Ginz asked.

“We are doing good,” I replied but Ilya interrupted me.

“Rob almost died. Twice. He doesn’t listen to me when I tell him he has to be careful!” 

Ginz let out a long sigh.

“Bad weeds are notoriously hard to kill,” he said. “I want to know everything.”

Ilya caught Ginz up to date as we sorted through the backpack. [Foresight] alerted me of a crumpled piece of paper beside the table leg. It must’ve fallen from the backpack, so I knelt to retrieve it. I smoothed it out just to find a message written with almost illegible handwriting. You shouldn’t have taken off the ring. Elincia is going to kill you–-R. I smiled. Risha must’ve recognized the orcs who kidnapped Ginz. They must have been relatives. I wondered how much the orcs explained to get Risha on board. At this point, Janus’ suspicions must’ve worn off, or so I hoped.

I grabbed the enchanted ring from my pocket and examined it, wondering if I should put it back on.

“Hey, blockhead, I’m talking to you,” Ginz said.

I jumped up, startled, and hit my head against the table.

“What?”

“Sulfur, fire beetle glands, powdered slime core, powdered flare crystals, dragonfire fruit oil. I need all of those things to produce ammunition. And paper. And primers. And slugs, if you want slugs,” Ginz said, his professional attitude back.

“I’m getting better at enchanting. I was hoping to use magic instead of explosives this time around,” I replied.

Ginz rubbed his temples. “Barbaric. I can’t believe you want to turn my babies into magical abominations. Where is the elegance? The grace? The all-natural explosions?”

“Come on, Ginz. We are trying to save the world here,” Ilya said.

“Right. What is the plan?” He asked.

I channeled mana and used [Mirage]. A simple rifle floated before our eyes, but I wasn’t expecting that level of definition. I could even see the sun's reflection on the barrel and the direction of the grain in the wood. Ilya reached at the illusion, and for an instant, I thought she would pick it up. Her fingers, however, clipped through it.

“We need a design that is as simple as possible—body, chamber, and barrel. The firing mechanism will be operated with Runes,” I said as the illusion shifted to an exploded-view.

“Man, I love this,” Ginz said, his eyes shining with greed.