Cultivating Talents [LitRPG Mana-cultivation]

Pendeck shifted, turning his body towards Orndale and eyeing the shorter man. It wasn't clear what Scoda wanted with those documents, but Pendeck knew one thing. Bobbie wouldn't let an error like this slide. He'd have to take on the punishment.

And it would be one Pendeck wouldn't like in the slightest.

That only left him with one option. Brushing a hand down his side and slipping it into his pocket, Pendeck's gaze traced the shifting contours of Orndale's face as the man squirmed. "How many people know about the missing documents?"

If I'm going to do this, I have to make sure there aren't any loose ends. It's one thing to mess up; it's another to get caught trying to sweep that same mess under the carpet.

Orndale wrung his hands. His gaze shifted off to the side. A few men stood by what was left of one of the many safe house walls, looking over. One of them, a potbellied man with arms far too big for his body, sniggered to his supposed friend, his thick finger jabbing in Orndale's direction as he muttered, 'Pencil pusher.'

Pendeck swept his gaze across the man, forcing him to turn away and continue digging through the dirt like the grunt he was. The admins were valuable in a way these illiterate fools just didn't understand. And that's what would make this so difficult. "So?" Pendeck asked, raising an eyebrow. "Who else have you told about this?"

"I didn't mean to, sir, he just wandered in," Orndale said, pulling at the collar of his shirt. Stone crunched beneath his feet as he shifted, his foot slightly bumping the box of files. "My apprentice, Carl. I was just complaining to myself when the boy stepped in. He's a good lad. He'll keep it to himself." Orndale's blue eyes quivered, as if hoping Pendeck would see it the same way.

A pang of annoyance flared in Pendeck's chest. "And where is Carl now?"

"Oh, the boy. He should be on his way back to the outer slums," Orndale said, letting out a slightly nervous chuckle. The poor fool was probably worried Pendeck would try to silence the boy. He probably thought himself too valuable to be taken out by Pendeck.

He'd be wrong.

If I wait too long, the boy might speak to someone before I can get to him. Everyone who works in the administration wants to win some points with the boss. But if I leave now, Orndale will know I've gone after the boy. If he lets that slip before I can put him down, I'll have more problems and be right back at the start.

Pendeck shook his head, the cool afternoon air blowing across his cheeks as he pulled his hand from his pocket. Raising a finger, he pointed towards a large man carrying a plank of wood twice his size. Looks like he'd have to do this the old-fashioned way.

Glancing at Orndale from the corner of his eye, Pendeck held back a smile. "I'll have him over there escort you back to the outer slums. Can't have any more files going missing, can we?"

—- —- —- —-

A few hours later, after Emela and Nyx had left, Hector, holding a mana stone in his hand, guided Lincoln through the tunnels and back to the sewers. The constant patter of their sandals on the cold stone floor echoed all around them as they walked.

Hector dragged in a breath. Cool tendrils of air drifted up his nostrils, perking him up ever so slightly. "I have something to ask." he said, turning to Lincoln while keeping his steps measured. His voice echoed a bit more than he'd been prepared for.

"What?" Lincoln, apparently having noted the echo, lowered his own reply.

A small smile came to Hector's lips as he adjusted his voice and continued. "As I said earlier, I think you are kind of right about us not having enough members."

Lincoln's lips split into a playful smile. "You did, did you? If only you could have made that a bit clearer to Jodie."

Hector shook his head. Falling silent for a moment, he paused, letting Lincoln's remark drift away. He wouldn't pick sides or humour one targeting the other. If anything, he had to mediate and stop the two before it could get any worse. Though if he was honest, he hoped it would sort itself out.

"I want you to go to the dumps and find Adrien's dump guards," Hector said, "even better if you could find the one that pointed you in Adrien's direction."

Lincoln dragged to a halt, his feet scraping across the stone as he did. An urge to roll his eyes flared in Hector's chest, but he opted to shake his head and raise an eyebrow at the boy.

"Oh, and what are you thinking of doing with the dump guard, Hector?" Lincoln asked, crossing his arms as a playful smile hung on his lips—an annoying smile.

Should I really ask him to do this? What am I thinking? No one else would. Or even have the time to. No, this is something only Lincoln wouldn't have too many problems doing.

Guilt squirmed through Hector's chest. It was wrong of him to admit that, but it was the truth. He had to use Lincoln for this. If he didn't, then who else? With the Collar gang still looking for him and Mirae, he could hardly do it himself. And Hector doubted people would trust a masked stranger coming out of nowhere and making them an offer.

Lincoln cleared his throat, the sound echoing around and down the tunnel. Hector glanced up, taking a breath of the stale cave air, the taste of aged stone thick across his tongue. "I want to run a simple test, as well as get some errand runners. When we hopefully find a seller for the Hairless rats we hunt, we'll need people to transport them, at least on top-side."

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Nodding, Lincoln brought up a finger and rubbed his lips. "So you want to see if these guys would be good as runners for us? While also doing what?"

"Well, my hope is it will help us cultivate some loyalty from them, just enough to do odd jobs. It will be a good while, I think, before we can find anyone that we can halfway trust to join the mercenary company."

A cool breeze blew past, ruffling the few white locks in front of Hector's eyes. They weren't too far from a sewer exit now. Hopefully, it wouldn't take Lincoln too long to get back.

"Alright, I see where you are going. But I will need some help, of course." Lincoln said, turning and continuing his walk.

"Who? I mean, you're the only one I can…" Hector's eye twitched as he caught the slight smile tugging on the corner of Lincoln's lips. "Griffen."

Jodie is right. Lincoln seems to have found himself a little lapdog. I don't even understand why the kid is so obsessed with him. What did Lincoln even say to him?

"What? The boy has a good work ethic. He kinda reminds me of Able in that way," Lincoln said, holding his hands behind his back. "Besides, I'll need a middleman, too. And I think the guy would be more than willing and able."

"Hmmm…" Part of Hector wanted to say no. The kid was a big unknown, and it was kind of creepy the way he acted towards Lincoln. If anything, it would probably be in Griffen's best interest to stay away from Lincoln. "Like Able, huh?"

Images of the blonde-haired boy swirled around Hector's mind. He was a good kid, one who truly worked hard and took everything a little too seriously. When would Hector see him again? When would he see all his dojo mates again? Had they noticed Sasha was gone yet? Had they noticed he was gone?

"So?" Lincoln asked, glancing at him from the corner of his eye. "Can he help?"

Not like I'm really swimming in options, and, to be honest, I'd probably just be delaying the inevitable. I just hope I don't come to regret agreeing to this.

They stopped. A gag-inducing scent slugged up Hector's nose. They'd made it back to the sewers proper. The air had grown cooler, the subtle wind lapping at the exposed skin on Hector's arms. A shaft of slitted light further down the tunnel trickled in. The little dust that was down here played subtly in its rays.

Sighing, Hector placed the mana stone he held into his pocket. It thumped down to the bottom with a soft thud. "Alright, the kid can help you. But if he messes up, it's on you. And just to be clear, Lincoln, I don't like this one bit." The cool air brushed past Hector's hand as he held it out for a shake.

Lincoln took it with some exaggeration and gave it a firm shake. "You worry too much, Hector. It will be fine. Especially as long as you keep awakening those Talents in us, it should all work out perfectly."

Dropping Lincoln's hand, Hector let out a sigh, the warm air brushing his lips slightly. "Somehow, I struggle to believe that."

—- —- —- —-

The morning sun beat down onto Griffen's eyelids, practically forcing them open with its intensity. He groaned, rubbing at the crust on his eyes, as his other hand scratched against the dry, caked cloth of his shirt, getting at the itch on his belly.

He groggily sat up. The small layer of trash that had sheltered him from the chilly night fell to one side, tumbling down the small pile he'd chosen to rest on last night. Passersby would probably have thought him dead. And that would probably be the case if it weren't for Lincoln.

Wiping the drool from the side of his mouth, Griffen turned on his side, pushed off the shifting trash beneath him and shakily got to his feet. Pain. It spiked through him in subtle waves. It wasn't too bad, though, and despite the occasional scuffle over food, it was getting better.

Though one pain was harder to ignore. A burbling came from his stomach, followed by claws of hunger that scratched at his insides. He bent over slightly, gripping it.

I need to find something to eat. Perhaps I should head to the bakery. They are always throwing away over-aged dough. That should keep me fed for a good while, at least.

Finding his plan satisfactory, Griffen trudged down the small trash pile. Around the dump, others sifted through trash, clawing at broken wood and wincing as they cut themselves on metal. It was stupid—all of it. They were doing this to give scraps to some people who didn't even care about them.

A small smile came to his lips as Griffen shook his head—hapless fools, the lot of them. He'd been like them once, but Lincoln had told him of a better way, and if everything went well, would show him too. In a way, he had to thank those crazy Farmhands. If it wasn't for them, then he'd still be like the rest of them.

His stomach groaned as he rounded a rather large trash heap. Passing a small, thin, black-haired girl, a cloth sack covering her form. Her frame was nothing more than skin and bone. Griffen sighed as she lamented.

"—Where is it? I just had it, by the Great Lake, please. It has to be here; where did it go?"

She probably, in her hunger-induced delusion, thought she'd found something, only to snap out of it a moment later, realising it was actually useless and thinking she'd lost it. It happened a lot in the dump, and often only ended one way.

As Griffen closed in on the gate, he paused. Up ahead, the sun's rays practically following his beautiful form, was his saviour, Lincoln. Griffen's body relaxed a little, a tension he didn't know he'd been carrying unwinding.

With a huff, Griffen rushed towards Lincoln, his steps heavy as hunger ate away at his body. As he moved, Lincoln turned his head, his perfect brown eyes locking onto Griffen. A wave of certainty washed over the boy as a smile lit Lincoln's face.

"And how are you doing, Griff?" Lincoln said, as Griffen staggered to a stop before him.

"Not too bad. I just woke up, actually. I was on my way to get some food."

Lincoln's face fell, a small frown appearing on his lips. "You poor thing. You must be starving. That won't do, that won't do at all," Lincoln said. He then reached behind his back, grabbing at something. "Guess what I have for you?"

Saliva built up in Griffen's mouth, and he fought back the drool threatening to leak out. "Is it food? It's food, right?"

"Oh, good kid, I can't get anything past you, can I?" he said, removing the loaf from behind his back.

Griffen could taste the sweet, soft cloud in his mouth. Fighting back the urge to leap at the loaf—that would be beyond rude—his gaze snapped back to Lincoln's. Was he going to give it to him now?

"This is for you. Don't worry. But there is something I need to tell you and want you to think about," Lincoln said with a smile that said he understood Griffen's need. "You remember when I told you about the mercenary group I was making?"

Griffen nodded.

"Well, I have some news. Certain people don't want you to join. They don't see your exceptionality the way I do. They can't appreciate how amazing you truly are," Lincoln said, shaking his head slightly.

A pang of sadness flooded Griffen's chest. This poor man was fighting so hard for him, but Griffen could do nothing but wait. What a failure he was. No wonder his uncle abandoned him.

"But don't worry, Griffen," Lincoln locked eyes with him. "I have a way that you can prove yourself. A way you can show them how great you truly are. Do you trust me?"

Griffen nodded.