New System, Who Dis?

Tutorial Day 34

"Right forearm," Claude said in heavily accented English.

There was a reason he was calling this out in a different language than his native one. Because if there was a delay caused by the System's translation between his callout and my reaction, I'd feel excruciating pain.

Not that Claude really seemed to care…

He struck again and again, regardless of if I'd previously succeeded in defending against his 'Soul assault' or not. However, he sometimes waited an extra second from one blow to the next. Most likely because if I failed to react in time, I'd suffer what I could only imagine the comparison being—the pain of losing my right arm.

Sure, I could shut the pain off completely, and arguably shouldn't even be feeling the pain in the first place—but you try telling yourself not to feel the pain of a glowing Spear severing your ephemeral arm…

I watched in horror as once again, the blow from Claude's Spear sunk halfway into my 'arm,' got stuck, and then was brute-forced through. If I had a stomach, I might have vomited. I could swear the pain was worse when the damn thing hitched against my 'Soul defense.'

"Project your Soul defense beyond your apparition. Force it to form outside of your skin," Claude said in the robotic translation. He pulled back his Spear for another strike.

If I was being honest, the pauses after he cut off a limb might have been because he needed to breathe to give instructions, and not some sadistic way to prevent me from getting used to any kind of rhythm or pattern—but I wouldn't bet money on it.

Somehow, I managed to not only turn off the excruciating signals of distress from my right arm, but I was able to react to his next instructions.

"Left leg!" Claude commanded.

My 'jaw' clenched as I bore down and began to shake. All I needed to do was stop his Spearhead before it penetrated my spiritual form. For that, I needed a force field or barrier outside of myself. It was impossible to call this my body, with my actual body just… sitting there. However, in essence, that's what Claude was asking for.

I fought to create a barrier outside of my left leg. The glowing white Speartip struck, passing through the spot where I'd envisioned the barrier, before sticking in place a scant inch from my 'skin.' I might have celebrated, if I didn't simultaneously suffer a brain aneurysm.

* * *

"That was much better," Claude's robotic praise whispered into my ear, as soon as my physical eyes fluttered open. "That concludes our basic lessons on touching your Soul."

It would have been nice if I didn't flinch away from the red notifications, but over the last two days, I'd kind of gotten used to Claude ejecting me from my body every time I was 'physically' in it. So, despite his praise, I had been expecting a blow to my sternum and forehead.

When it didn't come, I sat up slowly and regarded the Drunken Spear Master. Quite stupidly, I asked, "Wait, you have lesson plans?"

"I'm a teacher—of course I plan my lessons," Claude said. "What do you take me for?"

"I thought you were an NPC," I muttered, even as I double-checked all my limbs, to confirm for myself that they were still attached.

"An NPC?" Claude asked, his robotic voice unable to convey the confusion that was written clearly across his face.

Blinking rapidly, I regarded Claude. Was he part of the System and wasn't aware that he was? I'd really only said the words because I was frustrated, angry and beyond anything else, sporting a migraine that I was internally still comparing to the worst I'd had in my entire life.

"It means Non-Player-Character. It's a term from MMORPGs, like Monster Hunter X." I watched Claude's face, looking for any hint of an emotion. What was I expecting? Anger, perhaps. Maybe embarrassment or recognition. Thus, why I was beyond confused when I saw sadness.

Claude noticed my scrutiny and smiled, the action never reaching his eyes. Morosely, Claude explained in broken English, "I asked le same question, during my Tutorial. I do not know this… Morgz? But I assume it was like our City Enrichment Games. The staff were sometimes called drones."

For a moment, it felt like Claude was still speaking French and the Tutorial wasn't translating. Then I started putting the pieces together. City Enrichment Games? Drones?

"What exactly… are you?" I asked, my eyes narrowing as my suspicions grew.

"I'm a simple participant of this Tutorial," Claude responded, his words translated once again.

"Then why do I gain Reputation with Claude, the Drunken Spear Master?" I asked, hoping that revealing something on my side might allow him to peel back a bit more on his.

"Because I'm often drunk, and I have mastered the Spear," Claude responded. "Now, if that is everything you wished to learn, I'll ask you kindly to leave so I can get back to the ivre."

The last word came out in what was clearly French, and by context, I assumed he was asking to return to drinking. Part of me wanted to stay and attempt to slowly mine more information. If my suspicions were correct, Claude was like Smegma—a different race who had taken the Trial.

What he was doing in the Tutorial, I couldn't say. Still, I could also tell he was serious about his desire to return to drinking—mostly because he'd already started. Half of what looked like an expensive or ancient, dusty bottle was already gone.

The smell it gave off was both sour and sweet, making me think it was some type of wine. Shaking my head, I began to turn around as I pulled up my Status.

The increase in my Soul Pool made me spin around. I had wondered multiple times why I was able to last longer and longer against Claude in my 'spirit' form. However, I had no access to my Status page while incorporeal. Now, I knew why. His training had been increasing my Soul… quantity—strength?

I didn't know exactly what it was increasing, but the fact it had surpassed my Qi made me very excited.

Why?

Because I could use my Qi and Mana to fight, Gather Herbs, and now, even create Pills. What could my Soul be used for?

"Can you teach me how to use my Soul to attack, like you did with my Qi?" I asked, my excitement causing me to speak before I fully thought that request out. I'd only meant it as a future opportunity.

Claude lowered the bottle and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. He looked at me, seeming to weigh my question. When his eyes returned to mine, I saw the moment he realized the earnestness I held, because a smirk broke out onto his face.

"You think I've taught you how to use Qi in combat, do you? For both your Soul and Qi, you've simply learned how to touch and reinforce with them," Claude said, the robotic translation coming in over the top of a wicked and terrifying smile. "You only asked me to teach you how to use your Qi—not how to use it to attack."

"Husk!" I swore as I spun back around and tried to get out the door.

It was too late.

A hand slapped into the middle of my back, and a familiar uncomfortable weight settled onto my whole body. I managed to struggle through one additional step, dragging the stupid Armor, before I fell to the ground. Normally with the type of speed I had built up, I would have slid over the wood, but the weight of the Armor prevented even that.

Instead, my shoulder dug into the shoulder guards, and I felt my spine contract painfully. As soon as I managed a breath in, I shouted, "Come on! I thought we agreed you wouldn't trap me here again?"

"Trapped? What trapped? The door is right there…"

I turned my neck, feeling a mighty stretch, to bestow a glare on Claude.

"You wanted to know how to use Qi and Soul in offensive combat—and to do that—you must strengthen this pathetic vessel. Now, go fetch some water from the well."

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For just a moment, I considered jumping up and attempting to punch Claude in the face again. Like I had done previously. Yet, the latter attempts to do so had also taught me how fruitless that endeavor would be. The question was whether or not I could do as instructed, without running out of Qi somewhere outside.

My body shuddered as I considered that possibility. Without Claude to feed me milk porridge and trigger the Cleaning Magic—I could be stuck outside—until someone took pity on me. Or until I starved? Would Claude come look for me?

I turned around to look at the Drunken Spear Master and found him drinking the other half of his bottle. The answer was that he would likely entirely forget about me…

Growling at my own stupidity, I began cursing myself out. Why hadn't I used Stat Breakthrough Pills? Or explored more of the Tutorial? Now I might be stuck here until my Points ran out again. Sure, I had a deal going with Veronique that should make sure I stayed out of debt—but some quick math told me that with my huge amount of Tutorial Points, I'd be trapped within this Armor for over two months.

But I had asked how to use Soul in combat. So, if Claude was truly a trainer that was placed in here with me by the System—he wouldn't simply do this to abuse me.

Well… I thought. Not only to abuse me… Probably.

He was likely truly trying to train me. So, could I use Soul, Qi, and Mana to complete the 'simple' task of getting water?

"Where's the well?" I asked skeptically.

"In the backyard of this building," Claude answered, his words still being translated for me.

"Okay, what door do I use to get out there?" I asked, trying to scan the Dojo but not being able to see the entire space.

"The front door."

Okay, this was sounding more possible with every moment. Sure, it would have been an easier task to go out a back door, but I figured I might be able to use Reptilian Body and my Qi to travel around the somewhat small Dojo. If it was one of the Academies in the center of the District—I'd have attacked Claude on the spot.

Still, this—this might be possible. With a deep breath, I used my Mana to force a connection to Reptilian Body, and then stopped the leak of red mist. Instantly, I felt my Stats increase, and I got to my feet in a rush.

"Too fast," Claude said, even as I took my first step toward the door.

"What?" I asked. He didn't respond right away, so I turned, set my feet and deactivated the Skill.

"If you want to use the Skill like last time, I will increase the Armor's weight. What I meant by 'too fast' is that you are burning through your Qi and Mana too quickly," Claude explained as he pulled out a chair from some sort of storage device and sat down. "Practice by getting me a beer."

Claude pointed to a corner of the Dojo, where a bottle rested. I could see the drops of condensation on it—meaning that it had just been placed there. Frowning, I attempted to use my Qi, and only my Qi, to enhance my Strength.

Ponderously, I took a step. My foot crashed into the Dojo floor, and I heard Claude tsk before saying, "Do not break my floor, student."

"How the hell am I supposed to walk while weighing a thousand husking pounds without risking your floor," I responded heatedly. I felt my Qi respond to the anger and flood my body. Ahh, that's what Claude had been after.

My next step, I used my Qi to slow the descent of my foot. It kind of worked, however, I still felt the floorboards buckle under my foot. They creaked ominously as well.

"Student, I told you not to break my floor!"

I frowned. I'd fought him for days on end, not caring about anything but punching him in the face. Plus, the Armor had been probably five to ten times as heavy. The floor hadn't broken then!

Husk, I was an idiot. I needed to change my mindset. Don't get upset with his words. They were instructions. If that was the case, he wasn't trying to evoke anger from me—but attempting to teach me a lesson.

My next step was no better than the first—since I'd calmed down and somewhat lost a bit of the flood of Qi from my Dantian. With each step, Claude made a comment—like he was actually an NPC. Within eight steps, I'd reached the bottle. Getting the bottle only highlighted how problematic and wrong my current method was.

Clearly, I was missing something. With my current Qi, I wouldn't be able to make it back to Claude with the bottle. So, what did I have that I wasn't using? That answer was simple. Soul.

However, that solution felt slightly wrong. Last time I'd been in this Armor, I didn't know how to touch on my Soul Pool. So, was Soul the answer, and last time Claude had railroaded my ass? Or was the answer Mana—the only other solution?

Not seeing how I could use my Mana—other than to activate Reptilian Body—I tried using the exercise I'd just completed with Claude.

As if expecting an attack from the man, I gripped my 'Soul' tight to my body. Then I bent down to pick up the beer. Nothing changed—

I stared dumbly at the bottle and my gauntleted hand. The bottle was cold. My gaze tracked down to my mechanized Sollerets. Unlike normal sollerets, these encased my entire foot, adding a metal bottom that took away a great deal of sensory feedback.

Not now though.

Curling my toes, I felt the grain of the wood beneath the Armor, even though the Sollerets didn't move. Blinking, I tried taking a step with everything I had. I attempted to use my Qi and my new sensory feedback to tip-toe the step.

And failed miserably.

"Are you expecting an attack on your Soul from my poor floor?" Claude intoned. Now that I was facing the man again, I understood that he wasn't even paying me much attention as I attempted to complete his task.

My Qi was below ten points and my Soul was slowly draining. How in the husking hells was I supposed to do this? Angrily, I used my Mana to activate Reptilian Body and crossed the ten feet to Claude in his chair.

Or I should say, I tried to. As soon as I activated the Skill, multiple things happened. First, the bottle shattered in my hands. Followed by Claude disappearing. I felt the slap on my armored back, thanks to my Soul adding sensory input to the suit, just as the force the man used toppled me forward.

"Get husked, you—" I began, as my face struck the floor.

* * *

Wednesday, May 15th, 2069

Jarred's stomach was in knots as he folded down Rainforest Boxes. Ella had begun work again, and they certainly needed the things she had ordered for the kids—but this act of breaking down packaging was just too visceral for his already frayed nerves from the conversation earlier that morning.

"Still, we've paid back twelve thousand Greenbacks already, thanks to Abyss and the bonuses," Jarred told himself. Plus, with Ella working and their agreed upon budget, they should be able to put his entire Specialist salary, and continue to put all bonuses, right onto their debt.

The problem was that Abyss was starting to slip. Not significantly yet. But with that jackass Jagger aggressively expanding, Jarred worried that they'd soon be in Portals with D-Ranked Guilds, and not the B or even C-Ranked ones. Jarred and Gary knew that was where the severe line of delineation existed between Guilds. Even now, they'd likely start seeing some of the safety concerns that militant Hunters brought into Portals.

Namely, being protected by unSkilled Hunters when Gathering. Going back to the second or even third squad of Hunters—to save the limited Skilled individuals for running the next Portal. Still, at least these Guilds would clear the entirety of the Mines, Monsters, and Gardens for the Gathering teams.

The real question was what could Alonzo's Abyss do to keep the contracts with the mid-ranked Guilds, or better yet, earn back the high-ranked ones?

They'd begun with farming Intact Crystals, Gathering Full Hides, and providing the freshest cuts of Herbs. They even often provided grafted Saplings that could grow and continue to produce Plants outside of Portals. Albeit at a reduced quality. However, those 'tricks' were easily copied by the competition. Jarred wondered if P-Squared had spies inside of Abyss—he figured they probably did, but it wasn't like they needed them.

Simply put, just looking at the products was enough to mimic them.

Yet, this job was by far the best one Jarred had ever held. Not even in terms of pay, which it was by nearly one hundred percent of his salary. No, it was the best simply because he got to see people he truly cared about every day. Jarred ran his hand over his stomach and smiled as he felt a few old friends. Those long lost friends were of course the top of his abs, which he hadn't seen in a long time. Only the top two of them below his sternum showed, even with his shirt off, but they were abs all the same.

Jarred even thought he could see some new growth of hair on his balding head. He knew he'd lost the hair due to stress, but he truly hadn't expected to ever see it again. Still, the greatest blessing had been the Skill Puncture. Truly he didn't want to leave his current job, but he knew he could get a position as a Specialist anywhere at this point. Plus, if he took the Pick that repaired itself with him—well, he'd be better than anyone else with his D-Ranked Mana Pool.

But, Abyss wasn't that desperate yet.

* * *

Thursday, May 16th, 2069

Jarred licked his teeth. They were fuzzy, reminding him of the rush he had this morning to get to the site. Unfortunately, Ella had gotten it into her head to get the kids into a private school. Why they needed to discuss this in May, Jarred couldn't say—but according to Ella, it was important to start the process early.

That had caused an argument to begin because Jarred didn't think his C-Plus-at-best son, Danny, and his B-Minus daughter, Lucy, were private school material. Not that they weren't intelligent, but it just didn't make sense to take them away from the routines they knew. Not really.

Jarred accidentally Sharded a Crystal and shook off his tangential thoughts. He looked around at the crew in the room with him, marvelling at the difference in the environment, even from P-Cubed days. Abyss provided high-quality Lightstones, and not just one. But one per each hundred square feet of the chamber. They'd decided on the protocol to increase safety, and admittedly they had reduced the need for Skilled Healers significantly.

Yet, that wouldn't matter if they lost access to Guilds that could afford to keep those Healers on hand…

Jarred heard his gloves squeal in protest as he clenched his fist around the Pick. He truly didn't want to leave Alonzo's Abyss, Gary, Clara, Willa, and even Brodie and Dave—but did he have a choice?

Not if Ella was going to have her way and send the kids to a private school. He triggered Puncture and pumped his Mana into it, knowing he shouldn't waste the limited resource but wanting, or perhaps needing, to vent his frustration into the stone floor of the deep chamber they were in.

To minimize the damage, he pictured a long, thin needle punching a small hole into the stone beneath the Crystal he'd been swinging at. To his surprise, his Pick didn't even truly make contact with the stone before it was stopped.

The resistance was immense, and his Pick almost jerked out of his hand. He let go of the handle, and the Pick even seemed to float in the air for a moment, before the back end slowly tipped, and then the thing clattered to the floor.

Had Jarred just created projections of Mana?

That was something that Hunters took years of schooling to learn. Surely that—

Black liquid sprayed up into his face and mouth. He sputtered and backed away, forgetting to grab his Pick as a literal puddle of black sludge began to grow around the Crystal he'd been semi-targeting.

He wiped his face and spat out the liquid that made it into his mouth. It tasted foul, like rubber mixed with how gasoline smelled. Jarred leaped forward to get his Pick before it got consumed by the black liquid that he was just starting to realize was Oil.

Jarred frowned at the screen he was looking at. Hadn't Dave mentioned something like this? How had what he'd just done unlocked the Stamina Stat? He shook off that thought and the window closed. He spat out the remnants of Oil in his mouth and considered the growing problem in front of him.

There was Oil inside the Portals? The puddle continued to grow, and Jarred watched as the bubbling started to geyser. Jarred had screwed up… and he'd need to tell everyone.

"We'll need to evacuate this chamber," Jarred shouted to get the other Miners' attention. They all looked over and saw what he was referring to. Fat Gary was the first to react, and instead of starting to pack up, he moved closer.

"You sure about that, boss?" he asked, pointing at the pooling Oil.

"Wouldn't this be able to be collected in Bags of Holding and sold?"

Jarred raised an eyebrow. That was an idea. Oil was worth… Jarred didn't know what Oil was worth. But gas was selling at something like nine Greenbacks a gallon…

Jarred also had no idea what the process would be for selling or refining Portal Oil. Still, Fat Gary was right. This would certainly have value. However, the company only had three Bags of Holding, which topped out at three hundred cubic feet each—and with the speed of the puddle growth…

"You guys want to go get someone from the Gecko Guild to see how we should handle this?" Jarred asked.

Fat Gary nodded.