Cultivating Talents [LitRPG Mana-cultivation]

A few murmurs punctuated the silence as the group turned back to the campfire. Hector glanced at Jodie, and the girl raised a brow. There was definitely more than one of those Earthen Moles, as she affectionately called them.

Lincoln coughed into his fist, drawing everyone's attention. Hector turned his head towards him, tilting it to the side as he eyed his brown-haired friend. "I think we will have one problem. And I know it's early, but I struggle to see how we would call ourselves a proper mercenary group with just the six of us."

Hector brought a finger to his lips. Lincoln had a point. From what he could gather, a typical mercenary group consisted of upwards of twenty members.

Jodie scoffed and leaned back on her elbows, the firelight flickering across her cheeks. "Well, we've just formed. We don't need to call ourselves a proper mercenary group. Besides, like Hector said last time, we aren't official or anything. So, it's fine."

Emela let out a low groan, and Hector looked over. "I have to agree with Lincoln, I'm afraid," she said. "While it's fine for now, if we want to have any staying power, we will need more members. If not for combat, just to do the menial work. We have to cultivate, after all."

Hector nodded. She was right, in a way. While the Talents offered him a lot in terms of versatility, he still needed to be present to have an actual effect. And his cultivation also needed to progress. That meant delegation would be needed. But who?

"Hold on," Jodie said, sitting up and locking eyes with Lincoln. "You already have someone in mind, don't you? You sly bastard. That's why you brought it up."

Everyone turned to Lincoln. If he really already had someone lined up, that was something. On one hand, it showed he was thinking about the future, but on the other, it meant he had some ambitions for the group. But where someone as self-interested as Lincoln wanted to go was another question entirely.

"Well, yes and no," Lincoln said with a sigh. "I only bring it up because I remember what happened to Sasha. The fact that we have an entire dojo, yet none of us realised she was missing or in danger... then I thought about Griffen and the things he went through. He's a good kid, and I want to help him."

Jodie scoffed and rolled her eyes. Sliding her hand through the dirt of the cavern floor, she readjusted herself. "You? You want to help someone? Please. You just want to use the poor kid as a lapdog, and this would give you the perfect excuse, you—"

Hector raised a hand. "Enough." He stared into the flames, thinking. The heat kissed his face, but what Lincoln said about Sasha pressed on him more than the fire ever could. It was suffocating, almost. He'd lost two people in a month. Two.

Shaking his head, Hector let out a sigh. Numbers. Skill. They had barely any of that. Talents made up for some of it, but as proven by that Gravity Forging-Seven berserk man, Talents weren't a decisive advantage.

Another faint screech cut through the silence that had settled in. It was closer now, maybe. With how much sound tended to bounce around, you could never really be sure. A small hand rested on the back of Hector's own, and he looked towards Mirae and smiled at her.

Turning back to the group, he nodded.

"I'm not saying Lincoln's right. Especially with bringing people we can't fully trust in," Hector said, his eyes shifting back to the flames. "But we can't be everywhere, and we will need support. There are a lot of people in the slums who are forgotten and left behind. We can use that."

"Isn't that what the gangs do?" Delworth chipped in.

Hector shot him a glance, and the boy fell silent. Hector then continued. "As I was saying. Obviously, I'm not saying we should bring them down here. Not yet, anyway. But the Collar Gang has screwed many people over; I'm sure we can find some people willing. That would also allow us to act as a force for change in the slums."

The fire crackled, sparks flying loose as a piece of wood tumbled further into the licking flames.

"The guards, the gangs, the nobles. None of them care about the people of the slums. We've seen it ourselves. By the Great Lake, Adrien had a small group of starving slum rats following him around just because he gave them some scraps. Think of all the good we could do."

"Hmmm…I mean," Jodie said, sitting up and playing with her fingers. "That kind of desperation tends not to breed the most moral of people."

Hector nodded. She wasn't wrong. Desperate people would often do anything to survive, and that mentality didn't exactly breed loyalty. But if you couldn't have loyalty, you could always take fear.

"And that's why we will have the carrot and the stick," Hector said.

"What do you mean?" Jodie asked with a frown.

Emela spoke before Hector could. "We are mana-cultivators, and ultimately, strength is what we respect the most. Sure, we can do good. But we will have to let people know there will be consequences if they cross us."

"I won't go around hurting people who can't defend themselves, Hector," Jodie said, holding his gaze. Her hand tightened around the clump of dirt she held in her hand.

Stolen novel; please report.

"I'm not asking you to," scratching the side of his cheek, Hector's gaze moved back onto the fire, "besides, we are getting ahead of ourselves. Recruitment isn't our main priority, not yet anyway. If people come along, then we can consider them."

"But as of now, we have one target."

"The Collar Gang," Marcus finished.

Hector nodded. "Exactly. Though we also need to deal with the moles and the hairless rats."

"Do you want to wipe them out?" Delworth asked, adjusting his blazer and resting a hand on his lap.

"We need to find the rats' nest and cull them. We need to figure out what we can do with the resources we get from them, and we need to find out where the moles are coming from."

"I would say the moles should probably be one of our main priorities," Emela said, her voice steady. She brushed a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "They have beast cores, which can be sold for quite a bit. And aside from attacking Collar Gang supply lines, this could be a good alternative. Especially once the Collar Gang has been dealt with."

Another wave of murmurs washed over the group.

"I can look into that," Lincoln said.

"No, it's fine. I can—" Emela stopped as Nyx leaned in and whispered.

Lincoln frowned, crossing his arms. His gaze shifted from Hector to the two girls. If his friend wanted him to say something, he was fresh out of luck. What Nyx and Emela had was for the two of them. He wouldn't force them to change just because it inconvenienced some of the group—not that he could.

They are the strongest here and surely have a bunch of secrets. If some of the things they keep hidden can benefit the group, I don't mind. Emela clearly hates the Muddust, and I'm fine with that, if it allows her to put in more effort to stop the Collar Gang.

"Better yet, you can do it," Emela said to Lincoln, after Nyx finished whispering to her.

"Sure," Lincoln said, exaggerating the 'e.'"

"I don't even know why you suggested it if you—"

Lincoln held his tongue as Hector levelled a gaze at him. They didn't need the bickering; it wouldn't help. Lincoln might not be fully in the wrong, but they didn't have time to be trying to put each other down.

"Alright, then. We know our general goals. Destroy the Collar Gang, and find a way to make a profit from the hairless rats and moles, while also figuring out where they are coming from," Hector said.

The fire crackled, its warmth steady against the cool cavern air. Around it, the group sat quietly, the tension loosening, not gone, but shifting into something more resolute. Decisions had been made—rough, imperfect ones—but decisions, nonetheless.

"So, it's really happening, then?" Marcus said, his voice low. "We're becoming mercenaries."

Jodie chuckled. "You might have to toughen up a bit. Probably get you a Talent or two, but yeah. But don't worry, I'll do all the fighting for you."

Hector's gaze shifted to Marcus. He had to get them all Talents. Some for versatility and some for defence. He also needed to get Marcus and Delworth cultivating. He didn't want to see half the group just up and disappear because of old age. In 100 years, if what his mother said was true, he wanted them at his side.

He let out a breath. That was a long way off. "We're a mercenary group, if only in name," Hector said. "We don't need titles yet, but we eight are the founding members. The core."

A smile settled on everyone's faces.

Delworth then nodded, brushing the sleeve of his blazer. "This will all take time. I can't wait to get started. Perhaps we can ask your dad to give us a discount on Talismans. We could use a few down here," he said, glancing past the shimmering dome to the cavern beyond.

"We could ask, but not yet directly," Hector said. "Either way, that's a talk for another time."

"Oh, yeah," Mirae said, speaking up. "Even though we aren't official, we are going to need a name, aren't we?"

The hideout fell quiet, the only sound being the crackle of fire.

Eventually, Hector glanced at Mirae. "Since you're the one who suggested it, do you have any ideas?"

Mirae nodded rapidly, her eyes practically sparkling. "I've been thinking about this for a while now. But why don't we call ourselves the Clear Sky Mercenaries? Because that's the best weather for plants to bloom, and I think we are all like growing flowers in a way."

Lincoln snickered, and Hector shot the boy a look. He fell quiet immediately.

"That's a beautiful name. I couldn't have thought of a better one myself," Hector said.

"And it's got such a beautiful meaning behind it," Emela said. "We clear the skies so that our members can bloom. I like it." Emela beamed a radiant smile at Mirae.

Hector's sister lowered her head a little, a faint red flooding her cheeks.

"It's nice, Mirae," Jodie said. She then turned towards Emela. "I just remembered. What was that you said about supply lines earlier?"

"Ah," Emela said. She reached into her pouch and pulled out the rolled-up document. She tossed it towards Jodie, and it slapped onto the dirt.

—- —- —- —-

Pendeck's gaze lingered on the destruction. The charred wood, the crushed stone, the ruins of it all. A whole safehouse gone in a day. Looted to boot. By mere ants that had jumped well beyond their station. This was getting to be a lot of work.

Stone and rubble crunched under the boots of men who moved around the site, trying to recover what they could. The filthy slum dwellers had been scared off; only his men remained. Those Scoda gang filth had also long since fled. Some had stuck around a day after the attack. Probably trying to follow a few idiots back to another safehouse.

It wasn't a dumb plan. Regardless of the Scoda gang's intent, they had earned some of Bobbie's attention. If they found a safehouse again, it would be a miracle.

At his side, a short man in brown pants and suspenders walked over. Sweat coated his forehead, and his black shirt was creased. In his arms, he carried a large box filled to the brim with folders.

"This is the last of the files, Mr. Pendeck," the man, a low-level admin member, apparently called Orndale, said.

Glancing at him, Pendeck reached forward and took the top folder from the stack, flipping through it. "And how is it? Are we missing much?"

"Strangely enough, sir, we are only missing one thing," Orndale said, letting out a grunt. Bending his knees with a few audible pops, the man placed the box onto the dirt, its bottom crunching into some loose rubble.

Pendeck raised an eyebrow. "They only took one file? That makes no sense. Even an idiot could see how valuable these are. Unless…"

No, that would require a high-level array master. The nobles barely have access to that; no way Scoda does. Though that doesn't mean they couldn't have read anything. Damn. We will have to make preparations.

Pendeck slapped the folder back down onto the pile, his eyes meeting Orndale's. "Which file did they take?"

"A rather minor one. Just the route switch to the Muddust refinery."

Pendeck frowned. His gaze shifted back to the rubble as a large man, possibly in the early Gravity Forging realm, struggled with a particularly large chunk of wood. Bringing a hand to his lips, Pendeck absentmindedly watched the man. Why would the Scoda gang take something like that?

It was useless. It's not like they could attack a noble family. That would be suicide. Even the Collar Gang would have to think twice if they wanted to do something like that. So what could they want with that document?