Chương 7: Chapter 6

[DEBT - LIONEL] Owed: 15gc Total funds: 0gc Due: 4 days Corin lay awake on his misshapen bed of hay, applying the last dregs of his makeshift healing salve on his wounds, grimacing all the while. Gus had been kind enough to give him a free room, just for the night, on the condition that he'd clean up the place and the bar the next morning; an easy trade. Besides, this exact bed (if you could call it that) had been where he'd first received his vision. His Foresight.

And once more, as he felt that sharp pain in his eye already forming, he tried to summon vision of the Turn, to no effect. Outside, the watchman's bell tolled distantly, marking the turn of the new day. Corin barely registered it anymore; he'd heard it every night for years. And in that moment, the pain still flaring, something came to him: [As~r~t ▒ val~ x2] His mind jolted awake. It had come again, that flashing text, just as incomprehensible as last time. He scrambled for parchment before it could slip away.

This one felt different - like it had already happened, already Turned. Old news. Worthless to him... unless no one else had caught it yet. He shifted his attention to deciphering.

'As~r~t'. Was each line a missing letter, or multiple? He poured through his brain for whatever could be relevant, until a single word suddenly slotted in: ashroot. A weak, basic alchemical ingredient, something people never really bothered using since it was only available in a very particular, very unpleasant region near the city. And val had to be value, right? And x2. That means the value of ashroot has been doubled? In that case... that's useless to him.

If he'd known that before, perhaps he could have done something about it - but he couldn't use this at all. Regardless, there was definitely something missing between ashroot and value... what could it be? He sighed, gathered his things, and left the tavern after finishing his cleaning duties, waving Gus goodbye on his way out. Roaming through the bustling city markets, he looked for the Alchemy section just to make sure that his vision had been correct. Instead, he found no ashroot to be seen anywhere.

He approached an elderly-looking woman, Greta (judging by the name stitched crookedly into her apron), mostly due to the fact that she seemed least likely to immediately shoo him away. She nodded at him, then he queried as to the lack of ashroot on offer.

"Oh, ashroot?" Greta asked, as if the word tasted poorly on her tongue.

"Bah, no use for the stuff. Mugwart is what you want, if you don't mind a few warts here and there. Will set you back just 20 copper."

"Interesting," Corin replied.

"Ashroot usually sells for 5 copper a piece, right?"

"Sure, but it's not worth even that," she replied.

"Nightmare to get the stuff, not worth the squeeze. We stopped stocking it a while back, everyone has."

"Are you sure nothing's... changed, about them?" he asked, gesturing vaguely.

"Like, they're not more valuable now?" Greta seemed a bit confused, subtly shaking her head.

"No, dear. I haven't heard anything about that."

"I see," Corin replied.

"Thank you, and sorry for wasting your time."

"I can give you the mugwart for 18 copper a piece if you buy five of them!" she called out after him as he turned to leave, but he politely declined. He had more pressing thoughts to attend to. He knew where ashroot grew. The prospect did not excite him, but he knew that he had to test it. And if I'm getting one of them, he thought, clutching his Bag of Holding, then I might as well get all of them.

[Location Unlocked: Mudmire] The walk had taken him less than thirty minutes, something that Corin was not particularly happy about, as that meant he'd be in Mudmire even quicker. Older maps still marked it as farmland, he vaguely recalled - something about a drained canal, decades back, that had never quite stayed drained. He gulped as he took his first step into the swamp, the thick ooze of silty mud hungrily swallowing his foot whole.

It took an undue amount of force to release it, his next step encountering much the same friction, causing him to traverse the swamp like some kind of ungainly giant stomping on fleeing townsfolk. His progress was slow but continual, and he eventually made his way onto a brackish clearing in the middle of the swamp, the ground fortuitously more somewhat-solid underfoot, and he finally spied the tufts of ashroot that grew here.

He began methodically collecting them, each new bagged ashroot accompanied by a growing notification: [Obtained: Ashroot x12] Each new bagged ashroot was additionally accompanied by a new mosquito, until his free hand was a constant flicker of movement around his exposed face. Something suddenly lurched from behind him, his hand reaching for his hammer instinctively. [Mudskip - Lv. 1 {Common}] HP: 5 Threat: Comical The mudskip emerged from the swamp, its stubby legs propelling it forward onto land, its haphazard teeth seemingly keen to introduce themselves to him. Not keen on the introduction, Corin instead poised his hammer and waited for the perfect moment to cave its head in. That time never came, as something unseen emerged from the swamp and devoured it whole, retracting into the water before Corin could even see what it was, let alone get a Substrate identification.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. He remained there, hammer poised, suddenly keenly aware why fucking no one collected ashroot. He cursed himself for being there, but knew that the mini-island he was on was currently the safest part of the entire area. Corin tried to ignore the obvious monster lurking in the swamp, instead returning to his ashroot collection endeavors, as that was better than envisioning his imminent demise.

His Bag of Holding proved to be immensely useful, effortlessly sucking up every scrap of ashroot without complaint. Eventually, after he'd harvested absolutely every bit he could find, he turned back to stare at the swampy waters. He'd be mid-waist in it, and if that thing returned, it dawned on him, rather unpleasantly, that it would have a full, balanced meal - meat and vegetables to boot. That was not an ideal outcome for him, all things considered. He hoped it was full already. Then, something occurred to him.

Mudskips were attracted to vibration, the one that had come after him likely attracted to his initial steps onto land. With that in mind, he took out his hammer and began lightly hitting its side on the sand, a soft 'thump thump thump' pervading through the mud. Before long, another mudskip emerged, first curious about the noise, then abruptly, foolishly hungry - and soon had the sharp end of a hammer lodged into its skull. Mudskips did not make for appetizing meals - for humans, at least.

Whatever the thing that had eaten the first one was, it seemed to have a different opinion. Corin placed the dead mudskip next to him, continuing his thump-thump-thumping until he had two more fresh corpses. Thereafter, he tossed one into the swamp, directly to the left of where he wanted to exit. The mudskip splashed into the thick water, and after a few seconds of slow-sinking, some disturbance grew in the water near it. A jaw emerged, for a second or less, then quickly disappeared along with the mudskip.

Corin threw the next mudskip towards his back-left, and the water erupted as the water-mud-monster devoured it. Then Corin picked up the final mudskip and flung it as hard as he could, directly behind his intended exit. The thing twisted in a rather impressive arc before hitting the water - briefly living up to its namesake, hopping across the surface with surprising grace - until it settled atop the sludgy water, sitting there a moment before the muck dragged it slowly under.

The current followed it, though it sank before Corin could confirm the monster had eaten it. Not waiting to find out, he re-entered the swampy water, sinking in waist-deep, Bag of Holding held above him. Just once, something brushed his leg once, and he nearly screamed (he really did scream). He didn't stop moving until he was climbing out the other side, unharmed, though perhaps lacking a half-liter of blood, donated to the thousands of mosquitoes at their apparent buffet.

Returning to the market stalls as the sun grew heavy overhead, he arrived at Greta's stall and placed the bag onto her table, much to her surprise.

"Good evening, Mr. Ashroot," she said, her surprised expression slowly dwindling.

"Come to get some mugwart?" Corin instead started pouring out the ashroot from his bag.

"I'd like to sell you these, please." Greta looked at them tumbling onto her table, then let out a little laugh.

"That all ashroot? Gods, I've never seen that much ashroot. I'm beginning to think you really might be crazy," she said, her face caught between amusement and real concern.

"Tell you what. I'll give you one for free, and you can make a potion out of it to see if there's anything different about it," Corin replied, not breaking eye contact. Greta stared at him for a moment more, trying to decide if she needed to call the authorities or not. Eventually she relented, picking up the closest one to her.

"I can't quite place you, son," she said, taking out a sharp knife and peeling away the furry exterior of the root, revealing a faint, pulsing interior, as if the root were still alive.

"Still fresh. You got these today?"

"Unfortunately," Corin replied.

"Oh, then you really are crazy," Greta said, the wrinkles around her eyes deepening with her broad grin as she looked at him.

"Explains all the bites." She split the root down the middle, then tossed it into a boiling pot of water. They both watched as it spun and sizzled in the water, gradually distending into a thick, unpleasant goop.

"Now we just need to test it," Greta continued, pouring out the slush into a goblet with some kind of makeshift colander on top that sifted out the majority, but certainly not all, of the unpleasantries.

"How do we do that?" Corin asked, and the woman held out her hand.

"Arm," she said simply. Corin was confused, but he held out his arm all the same - and she immediately slashed it with the same knife she'd used to cut the ashroot." Ow!" he cried out, trying to remove his arm but finding that Greta's grip was stronger than his own.

"The fuck?!"

"Oh shush," she said, holding his arm firm, "even a normal ashroot potion can heal a cut like this. We just need to see if this one does anything different. Besides, it's better motivation to drink that sludge." Corin glared at her, wanting to be angry but was instead just impressed. He moved to take the potion, but she knocked his hand away.

"Patience, child," she said, watching the blood seep from his arm, "we need your HP to go below the normal ashroot healing amount." [HP: 80/85] [HP: 79/85] [HP: 78/85...] Corin noticed that his blood was dripping into a small bowl below, her keeping his arm placed directly above it. He looked at her incredulously.

"You're collecting my blood?"

"Come now, you can't expect me to broil a potion for a simple, useless ashroot, right?" Greta asked with an attached giggle.

"I'll take your payment in blood instead." Corin was not fond of the local alchemist having a vial of his blood, but figured it was too late to complain. Instead, they both watched his HP tick down, his blood dripping down along with it, though the rate was slowing. Eventually it had dropped by 16, and she motioned towards the potion.

"Drink up. A normal ashroot potion heals exactly 15 HP," Greta said.

"If you heal over that, then we know the Turn's changed something about them."

"But then we won't know how much more it heals," Corin replied, Greta tilting her head in apparent recognition of his point. Then, both their gazes drifted to his other arm, and he sighed.

"Just get it over with qui-" he started - needlessly, as she had already slashed him, sliding another bowl under the arm with practiced efficiency. She was good with that knife. He stifled his cry of pain (he didn't), and then they resumed their watching of dual-trickling-down.

"You see that monster in the muck?" she asked idly, and Corin realized she was talking about that thing back at Ashroot Swamp.

"Unfortunately," he replied, "though fortunately not up too close."

"Lucky," Greta said, " very lucky. Gatherer lost a hand to it last month."

"Should have kept a mudskip handy," Corin replied, and she looked at him with a quizzical, but nevertheless disinterested, expression. [HP: 54/85]"31 down, drink up," she said.

"Though, if you want to bleed out a little more..."

"I'm good," he quickly replied, pinching his nose and downing the potion in one go. He felt a sudden wave of nausea - then renewed vigor, as the ashroot poured into his veins, a current of healing washing through him, the open cuts on his arms slowly closing over. Greta watched with growing interest.

"By the gods," she muttered under her breath.

"By the gods, I think you might be right." After half a minute, the process had completed. Exactly 30 HP healed. Double the value - not the price tag, the healing value.

"How did you know?" Greta asked, and Corin broke out into a wide smile.

"Better yet," he said, gesturing at his trusty bag, " how much to be the only one that does?"