Leveling up the World

Chapter 975: The Trip to Centennial

The entire trip was mostly spent between fighting in the awakening realm and sleeping. Even with the re-acquired bonuses, giving his all turned out to be exhausting, especially since he made a point to suffer a blow or two with the goal of gaining the final common skill. On the fifth time he succeeded, bringing his total amount of skills to five.

There was a time when that would have seemed exceptional. Right now, Dallion felt like he hadn’t even reached fifty percent of his full potential.

You could have at least given me a few hints, he thought, semi-awake.

Thinking back, the Architect had shared nothing at all. Of course, it hadn’t seemed so at the time. Dallion was so overwhelmed that he believed the entire universe to have doubled in size.

Calling him didn’t help either. Atol had tried once only to fall victim to a far subtler use of music skill. Dallion had sensed it through the phone. It was elegant, precise, and a clear warning that the man didn’t want anything to do with them.

“You up?” Atol shoved Dallion in the shoulder, ensuring that he was.

Initially, Dallion didn’t react, yet the shift in his breathing told the woman all she wanted to know.

“I’ll stop to get some gas,” she said. “Want anything?”

The thought of gas station cuisine quickly made him lose any appetite.

“Something bland.” Dallion cracked an eye open. “And water.” So much for having been a hunter.

“Chewing gum? It’s the only thing that’s worth fuck.”

Considering the nutritional qualities of all other choices, the description was unusually apt. Even so, Dallion shook his head. There were bigger concerns than food right now. As much as he didn’t show it, he knew Atol to be right. If Alien had retained his magic skill, he wasn’t going to hesitate to use it. It all depended on how long it had taken him to restore it. Given the time that passed since the leveling up of the awakened world, there was roughly a one in five chance that he had retained his spellcraft and if so… the city could well have transformed into his private domain. The only assurance Dallion had was that all skills were a lot weaker on Earth than they had been in the other world.

The distant sound of motorbikes filled the night. It started subtly, though with Dallion’s perception it was easy to catch a fair distance away. The more the bikes got near, the more he could tell there were at least a dozen of them. That wasn’t so good. Dallion wasn’t afraid that anything might happen. At the same time, he was perfectly aware that a college kid in an expensive car was bound to make them stop.

Sure enough, it happened.

“Hey.” The first biker stopped right next to Dallion’s car.

At this point, the confrontation had started. Ignoring the man would be worse than pretty much everything else.

“Hey,” Dallion replied with a casual smile.

“Nice car you have there. Gift from your dad?”

“Nah, my girlfriend got it for me.” Dallion’s intent wasn’t to be confrontational, but he couldn’t keep himself from adding a verbal jab. His hope was that his music skills would be able to keep things from escalating. Unfortunately, there were a few things he hadn’t taken into account.

The noise of the approaching bikes had diminished the effect of his music skills. Also, the amount of alcohol the biker had consumed made his reactions less predictable.

There was no obvious explanation for what followed. Maybe it was a simple mishearing, or maybe the man had come with the explicit intent to get into a fight. Whatever the reason, he leaped off his bike, leaving it to fall to the ground, aiming to hit Dallion in the face.

From the perspective of an awakened, the action was sluggish, if surprising. There were a multitude of options open, but Dallion chose to go on the aggressive side. Placing both hands onto the seat beneath him, he lifted himself, then bent and extended his legs, hitting the other in the face with both feet.

“Combat initiated,” he whispered, pushing himself out of the car. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to hurt her.

Two more bikers got off their bikes, rushing at him. Unlike their unconscious gang member, they were quick to draw weapons—knives and brass knuckles—almost as if they knew that they were outmatched.

“Better stay inside,” Dallion yelled, the warning meant for Atol.

In the other world, a level five awakened could easily take a dozen skilled mercenaries, provided he had enough experience. Here, Dallion estimated his capabilities to be half that.

A long-haired man with a leather jacket thrust with his left hand, aiming to cut Dallion with his knife. The action was clear provocation. Dallion could easily tell that the man was left-handed and was just prepping for the real attack.

Lowering his torso, Dallion performed a low sweeping kick, tumbling his opponent instantly. The kick was instantly followed up with a multi-attack series of punches. The first quickly knocked out the long-haired, while the next incapacitated the muscular one with the brass knuckles.

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Three down, Dallion thought, quickly leaping back into a free area on the street. There still were at least nine others.

“Nice moves,” one of them said, as he sped up, aiming for Dallion with his bike.

Are you an idiot? Dallion thought. If he were in their place, the last thing he’d do was attempt one-to-one battles. Since they were providing him with the opportunity, he felt compelled to oblige them.

Using his athletic skills, he leaped up, then spun, kicking the man clear off the bike and onto the ground.

“Had enough?” he shouted, using his music skills to their fullest. This time, there was an effect. The remaining group seemed to freeze still, all attention focused on Dallion. “You better go now,” he ordered. “No one wants any trouble. If we keep this up, the feds will be here.”

Of all the things he could have said, that was the worst. Dallion had no idea why he had resorted to using the “feds.” In his mind, that had sounded more threatening, but it also made no sense whatsoever. There was no chance that anyone from law enforcement, let alone federal agents, would be anywhere near at this time of night. Even if Atol had made a call and convinced them to go there, it would take them at least several hours to do so.

The man that was kicked off his bike slowly started getting up with a groan. The others remained where they were, though Dallion could sense the fear and doubt emanating from them. Their conscious minds knew that the threat was idle, yet thanks to his music skills, they felt they didn’t want to take the risk. Either that, or they didn’t want to get even more humiliated by a college kid.

“I won’t forget this, kid,” one of them—probably the leader—said. “You’re dead.”

“I doubt it.” Dallion kept on using his music skill. “I’m no one in particular.”

For several more seconds, the gang leader kept on staring at Dallion. Then, he tilted his head, indicating for the others to grab the unconscious members of his gang.

Remaining calm but ready, Dallion watched them come to, then be dragged to their bikes. The noise of motors filled the air again as one by one the bikers rode off, leaving Dallion behind.

Once all of them had disappeared along the road, Atol finally came out, carrying a small plastic bag.

“You okay?” Dallion asked instinctively. The confidence emanating from the woman quickly told him that she was. “Let’s go.”

“Hold on.” The woman approached, tossing him a can of soda. “Aren’t you curious what happened in there?”

Dallion frowned.

“I’m not in the mood—”

“When I tried to convince him to have the gum for free, a lamp next to him flickered. The man quickly grabbed his phone and dialed a single number. I’ve never seen so much fear emanating from anyone. When I used my music skills to calm him down, the lamp exploded.” That was unusual to put it lightly. There always was the possibility that it had been a coincidence, but there wasn’t anyone who seriously believed it.

Stay on guard, Dallion told the car, then rushed into the building.

The inside was as bad as one expected. Cheap racks contained cheap food products and some tools. The floor and walls had acquired so much dirt that at this point, there was no way they’d accumulate more. The lighting was dim. There were no security cameras, and the only person in the place lay unconscious on the floor. There were no signs of wounds, suggesting that he had either fainted on his own, or Atol had convinced him to.

What the woman had described as a lamp was little more than a bare bulb on a colored stand. Dallion was about to pull the cable powering it out of its socket when he noticed that there was nothing connecting it to anything.

Hello, counter, he said, keeping his distance.

Yo, the counter replied. What up?

That was neither the voice, not the lexicon Dallion expected, but he continued.

Who brought the lamp? Dallion asked.

Blinky? He’s been here for ages. Some shiny guy like you came here and left him.

Already Dallion had a bad feeling.

What was special about him?

Hell if I know, man. Guy came, left Blinky and left.

Did he talk to you?

Nah. You the first to do that.

An awakened had been through here, that was for certain, but it didn’t sound like any awakened—it had to be a mage. The visit also hadn’t been a social call. The person was marking his perimeter.

“Anything interesting?” Atol joined him. As someone who could have anything, she didn’t bother taking anything more from the gas station.

“How far are we from Centennial?” he asked.

“An hour tops. Why?”

An hour… “Do we have enough gas to get there?”

“You think I’d have stopped at this shitstop if we did?”

Dallion didn’t reply.

“It’s your friend, isn’t it?” she asked. “Looks like he’s expecting you.”

“Someone is.”

The bikers had gotten a good look at him, which meant if Alien had set this up, they’d be able to provide a full description. Getting into town became all that more dangerous. On the positive side, at least there was a strong chance that he was there. No one set up patrols and warning systems if they were elsewhere.

Looking around, Dallion went to a rack full of cheap T-shirts and took one. The piece of clothing was tossed over the remains of the lamp, then used as a sort of sack, as Dallion picked up what was left of the device.

“Let’s go.” He rolled the whole thing into a ball, then left.

Getting gas was easier than expected. There were several safeguards ensuring that people couldn’t just fill up their tank and then drive off without paying. However, a quick conversation with the pump—and a touch of music skills—easily bypassed them.

The magic device, still wrapped in the T-shirt, was tossed to the side of the road as far as Dallion could manage. With that done, the trip continued.

“So, what do we do now?” Atol asked. “Go somewhere with lots of people?”

“No. He’ll be prepared for this. When I used music on the bikers, it didn’t always have an effect.”

“There goes my usefulness.”

“Not quite. He isn’t expecting you. He doesn’t know what you look like. If we’re quick, we can find him before that.”

“How? Check every building in Centennial?” Atol snorted.

“Just the highly secure ones. Mages like to be protected. He can’t be good at convincing people, or he’d have used someone more competent. My guess is that he’s used money to get some hired help.”

“That narrows it down a bit. I guess we’re searching for someone rich?”

“Not only. I think someone told me he used to be a programmer.”