Chương 94: 12. You Made a Difference

Once we've finished gathering up all of the stingroot in the patch of grass—a process made much easier by my new spell—Draga has us prepare for the hunt, starting with stringing his bow. Saban's bow, I realize. Nothing wasted, I guess.

"Is it okay for us to have taken all of the stingroot here?" I ask.

"It won't mess with the ecology if it doesn't grow back?"

"Hm?" He looked up at me with a frown.

"What was that? You're speaking your own language again."

"Oh right, um... Allie?"

"That's going to be a really hard question to relay," she groans.

"Is it really that important?"

"I guess not, but I'd still like to ask."

"I can help too," Evelyn offers.

"It shouldn't be too difficult." With their help, I manage to repeat the question in Fa'aun without making a complete fool of myself, and Draga gives me the most enthusiastic smile I've ever seen from the somewhat surly ranger.

"You know, between the army and the rangers, I must have done this dozens of times," he says.

"And not once has anybody thought to ask that." I start to blush, thinking that I've asked something stupid, but he continues before I can change the subject.

"You're right—whether it's a new village, an army on the march, or even just a couple of travelers looking for dinner, we have to be mindful about how our actions impact the world around us. It's not just dungeon anomalies that can destroy the blessings Sagaa provides." He finishes stringing the bow, flexing it once to test the string before slinging it over his shoulder.

"But stingroot is different," he explains.

"It's a weed. It grows everywhere, and in anything. You couldn't get rid of it if you tried. Now—you're going to need something better than that knife for a proper hunt." I frown. A better weapon would be nice, but I feel like I've been cursed. The gun we looted was confiscated by Talla and has to be given back to its previous owner's family, the spear was blown up by a magical lizard, and the staff was blown up by, uh, us. Aside from this knife, every weapon we get our hands on ends up lost or destroyed.

Draga draws what I thought was a walking stick out from behind his pack and holds it out to me. A spear.

"Saban was able to recover the spearhead from Reyna's weapon after it got destroyed," he explains.

"I've been working on this for the last few days while we were on the road, and I think it should hold." I accept the weapon and give it a closer look. The shaft is smooth and free of splinters—still slightly dusty from sanding. He must have been working on it as recently as last night. The head is indeed the same one as our old spear, affixed to the shaft by a socket and pin, but that's where the differences end. The new spear is shorter, and the wood is lighter even for its size.

The result is slightly more top heavy, but it doesn't feel clumsy or awkward in my hands.

"You made this?" I ask, managing the Fa'aun on my own this time.

"They don't make spears for people your size," he says.

"Reyna's short spear was on the smaller side, and it was still too big for you. Give it a few swings—get a feel for the balance." Taking a few steps back, I make a few half-hearted swipes with the spear, feeling self-conscious about Draga watching me.

"Not like that," he says, chuckling.

"Proper swings! Like you mean it!" I bury my pride and try again, imagining some invisible opponent in front of me. I mix in a variety of strikes and blocks, shift my footing, and then strike at a second imaginary foe. The entire sequence only takes maybe thirty seconds, but I find myself getting into a rhythm—spinning, striking, and blocking in a smooth set of motions before resetting my stance and starting again. When I finish, I'm slightly out of breath and extremely embarrassed.

I must have looked like such a dork doing all that. Draga applauds politely.

"Not bad at all! Never seen a style like that before," he remarks.

"You should probably cut out all the twirling, though. That looks nice in a parade, but it's useless in an actual fight." My face prickles from blushing so much, and it takes all of my self control not to curl up into a ball and bury myself.

"I don't know why I did that," I mutter.

"I just started moving on my own."

"Wrong language again," Draga reminds me.

"Although it served you well against the demon back then—you surprised us all with that. I thought for certain you were dead." It surprised me too. I was high on tincture and adrenaline at the time, but I never imagined I had moves like that in me. Maybe this was something I practiced in our old life. Alone, when nobody was watching, and absolutely not with the intention of ever actually using it in a fight.

"Thank you," I say finally, remembering to use the right language this time.

"You're welcome!" he replies with another duck-bow.

"Hopefully that will serve you better. It was tricky getting the balance right, but it should be better for throwing—you've got a skill for that, right? You should try that one out before we get started." I hesitate for a second, looking at the skill he's referring to. [Explosive Throw] You can throw objects and flames with explosive force. Your Ego is added to Power when using this skill. I'm not sure that's such a great idea.

Maybe I'm putting too much stock into this curse that I just invented a few minutes ago, but I'm genuinely worried that I'll end up destroying this nice gift right after receiving it.

"Rock first," I suggest, crouching down to find a suitable pebble or something I can use instead.

"Hah!" Draga laughs and shakes his head.

"It's just a tier two skill, Vi, I don't think you need to be that worried." And I don't think he realizes how ridiculous every class and skill that we've developed from [Unified Collective] and [Candle Enthusiast] is. There's just something about those two that seems to push the mechanism to its limits, and now we've got both of them together. I've seen the [World Engine] offer a tier one skill called [Reverse Entropy] that healed us so thoroughly that it even fixed our glasses.

I'm not taking anything for granted. After finding a decently sized rock that fits neatly in my hand, I stand up and take aim at the largest tree I can find. I take a stance like a pitcher and wind back for the throw, channeling the skill as I brace myself for what I'm about to do. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

"No, really," Draga says, "you don't need to—" I hurl the stone with all my might, my arm snapping forward like a whip. The rock leaves my hand with a deafening crack like a gunshot, causing the birds around us to take flight. Draga ducks urgently and winces, slowly rising again as an echo of the sound returns to us along with the distant sound of Talla swearing.

Ahead of us, a hole has been torn into the tree, with splinters and woodchips spread out on the forest floor behind it like wooden gore from an exit wound. The rock—whatever might be left of it—is nowhere to be seen.

"Holy frick!" Allie exclaims.

"Did we do that?" Draga silently walks over to inspect the tree, walking around it and peering back at me through the hole on the other side.

"Okay," he says curtly.

"Don't use that skill with the spear. You were right to test it first—forgive me for being lax." He puts his hands on his hips and stares up at the sky, sighing. Then snaps back and gives me a grin.

"Right! With skills like that, this hunt should be a breeze!" he says.

"Let's get moving—that sound will probably have spooked anything nearby into hiding." * For the rest of the day, Draga shows me various different animal tracks, explaining which creatures they belong to, how to recognize them, the best ones to hunt, and the most reliable methods for catching them.

"That's a moss rat. They make nests in lichen and multiply like crazy during their mating season. Small and very fast—not worth the trouble unless you can trap them. Use stingroot berries..."

"... wild horse. Males without a herd are very aggressive, and with a herd... well, it's probably for the best that this one's halfway across the desert by now..."

"... hooves not too different from ours, but you can tell it's a four-legged gait. Oasis prancer—good game if you can find them, but they're nimble, and I've seen a spooked one leap clear across Sagaa. You probably scared it off earlier..."

"... big tracks like this mean a river maw. Huge thing, thick hide, long tusks. It's slow on land, but deceptively fast in the water. Avoid. They're herbivores, but they'll kill anything that gets close. I used to think they were from a convergence break, but apparently they've been around forever..." And so on. It's educational, relaxing—even a bit of fun.

Each new set of tracks and live specimen we find adds to the list of things I can tag with [Faerie Fire], and although we don't actually manage to catch more than a handful of moss rats and a few fat chicken-like things that are literally called "fat birds"—that has to be a weird translation—I have a good time. It might be the first time since Allison woke up in that dungeon that I've just... had fun?

There have been moments that weren't entirely awful, and we had our ways of staying sane, but for the first time in a while I feel like I've been reminded that there really is more to life than just making it to tomorrow. I think I needed this.

"Thank you," I say in Fa'aun as we make our way back to camp. Draga looks askance at me.

"What for?"

"This," I say, gesturing around us.

"This," I repeat myself, lifting up the spear he gave me, freshly cleaned of the blood of a fat bird I managed to catch mid-flight—they're surprisingly nimble.

"This," I concluded one last time, pointing to him and then me.

"Thank you." He nods slowly, my sentiments breaking through the language barrier between us.

"I'm glad I could help." [Level Up!] Incandescent Souls is now level 2. Savior is now level 7. Teacher is now level 2. Student is now level 5. +3 Power. +5 Resilience. +3 Awareness. +5 Ego. +1 Ego (Allison). +1 Will (E'ava'al'n). Woah! I stop in my tracks and stare dumbfounded at the words floating in my mind.

"Gained a level?" Draga asks with a knowing smile.

"Yes," I reply flatly.

"In everything."

"Not everything," Maggie gripes.

"I didn't get shit!"

"Ah, that can happen sometimes," he says.

"Not that I know what it's like having—what, four classes? But for whatever reason the mechanism likes to group rewards up like that if it can. Teammates and close friends often level up together as well." I see. I'm a little confused, though. I can see how [Student] would benefit from this experience—and as expected, it's been leveling up pretty fast with how much we've been learning about the world, ironically outpacing Allie's [Teacher] by quite a bit—but the others? What have I taught Draga in all this?

Or was it Allie and Eva helping me with the language? I guess I might be getting a little more comfortable with it. [Unified Collective] and its child classes have always been a bit weird, so I'm not going to question that one, but the one that really baffles me is [Savior]. Talla taught us to use class domains when referring to our own classes in [Messages], so it's quite easy to ask Draga what he thinks.

"[Rescue]?" I ask, making sure to add the question particle like Allie taught me. Draga catches my meaning and rubs his chin, pondering it.

"That is a bit odd, but you sometimes get residual achievements like that," he says.

"Probably from gifting that village our excess supplies the other day. Could be someone was starving and got a timely ration thanks to you."

"Just now?" I muse. That was days ago. He winces and scratches the base of his horns.

"Even this close to the river, it's a hard life out here. Villages have to prioritize where their food goes, even when they get an unexpected surplus." I did notice that the men in the village were a bit skinnier. The boys that held us up were toned, but wiry.

"Maybe those boys wouldn't have turned to banditry if they were just fed properly," I mutter darkly. Draga eyes me thoughtfully, even though he couldn't have understood what I said.

"I think I understand your sentiment, but that's just how it has to be. When there aren't enough resources to go around, a choice has to be made. I don't envy the ones who have to make it." Maybe not, but was the old lady who insisted on breaking out their reserves to host a noblewoman ever in danger of starving, herself? She didn't know that we'd repay her, and the bandit kid's mom definitely didn't expect us to.

So the richest person in the village spent precious resources to appease an even richer visitor, knowing and probably even expecting that it would mean someone else would go hungry—maybe even die. What's worse, it wasn't even my idea to feed them. Eva made that decision on her own, and if I'd been consulted... I probably would have advocated against it. Yes, they were extra supplies, but who knows whether we might need them later? I still think it was the wrong choice, and I feel guilty for thinking that.

Here I am criticizing their way of life when I'm part of the problem. Draga must have noticed me glowering, because he gives me a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

"You did what you could," he says.

"Not every problem has a neat solution, but you made a difference. Even the Goddess' divine work agrees. You can be proud of that." I'm not sure whether that makes me feel better or worse, but I guess I'll take it. It's easy to see how the people of this world ended up worshiping the mechanism that empowers them. It's a constant source of affirmation and reassurance. A little voice in the back of your head reminding you that you're still moving forward and making progress, bit by bit.

It's almost dangerously alluring. My ruminations are interrupted when we get back to camp and Talla rushes over.

"Blood and acid, there you are!" she huffs.

"What was that sound earlier? Did you take one of the pistols on the hunt? You know the metal in those bullets can be toxic if ingested, right?" I leave Draga to explain, but just like that the moment is gone. No more thoughts of systemic injustice or crippling guilt and self-loathing—though I'm sure they'll be back when it's least convenient—just the pleasant warmth of a good day in the company of new friends. Even though I know Allie is looking forward to seeing the city, I almost wish that we never get there.

That we could just stay in this routine forever, driving, camping, hunting, and enjoying each other's company. Out here we don't have to worry about the church, or the fact that Draga's at risk of losing his job, or the fact that Talla is a member of the ruling class responsible for that village's suffering... and that we're going to be reliant on her and her family's hospitality, making us at best complicit and at worst partly responsible for that very suffering. Ah... and there it is again. That was quick.

Oh well—it was nice while it lasted.