Chương 36: Chapter 32: On Second Thought, Maybe I Didn’t Buy Enough Stuff

Mining was hard work! At least the cave was cool. For the last couple of weeks, the heat outside had been so high that it had glued my clothes to my skin with sweat. Stepping out of that furnace felt like entering a shaded garden. It was refreshing enough to make me sigh in relief every time I escaped the sun beating down just beyond the entrance. The contrast almost made the backbreaking labor enjoyable, at least for a while.

I didn't have a pick or anything, so I had to improvise with a medical bone chisel and the hammer I'd been paid with for my healing services. The bone chisels were small, and I snapped two before learning to use them without damaging them. I also broke a few emeralds until I learned how to maneuver around the stones to dislodge them. The dust choked me, so I put on a surgical mask. After about an hour, my eyes stung; the oil lamp gave off too little light.

Two hours later, my knees ached from kneeling at the bottom, and my shoulders throbbed. Thank God for the Heal Muscle spell. As I hit the rock again and again, surges of old anger bubbled up from deep inside me. Memories of growing up in foster care flooded back—memories I'd tried so hard to bury. Each strike of chisel and hammer acted as a release valve for the rage I'd carried for years. The first foster home wasn't too bad, but I was only five and already knew I was unwanted. That is, until the bully arrived.

From that moment on, it was a nightmare of ER visits and looking over my shoulder. The second was worse. Mrs. Reynolds had a sharp tongue and a sharper hand. I remembered the sting of her slaps and the way she would lock me in the bathroom for hours when I dared to speak back. Hitting the rock, I pictured her face—her cruel, twisted smile—and I hit harder. The stone cracked, and I got a small measure of satisfaction. Another hour passed before I needed a break.

In that time, I mined an area of about three square feet. Looking around the vast cavern, I figured that at my current pace, it would take at least a year to clear it. Not good. Going back to work brought back memories of Mr. Turner, the foster father who had initially seemed kind. He was a drunk, and his kindness turned to violence after a few drinks. I remembered the time he threw a bottle at me, cutting my forehead open. The chisel slipped in my hand at the thought of him, and I cursed, tightening my grip.

The anger fueled my strikes, and the stones yielded more easily. Occasionally, I smashed my fingers or missed with the hammer, but it never stopped me. Healing Touch, and back to work—both physical and mental. The second time I healed my fingers, the spell fixed everything in one cast. That was unexpected, since I'd smacked my fingers hard enough to draw blood from three of them. I checked, and Healing Touch had reached level 20. So, it wasn't only level 10 that made a difference, but each ten.

Although that was also strange. If the threshold was every ten, why was the max level 25 and not 30? Grrr! The lack of help files was ANNOYING! With a sigh, I checked the new mana cost, and it had dropped again—from 40 to 30. At least there was that. To shake off my annoyance, I went to pet Stretch. It always lifted my mood. He was nowhere to be found, so I left the cave to look for him. He was dozing near the cave entrance as the sun was setting.

I called him in for dinner, fed us both, laid out Stretch's sleeping bag and blanket, then lay there thinking about a faster solution. Maybe there's a light spell? I facepalmed again. It was becoming my signature move, and I didn't like what it said about me. Why didn't I think of buying the Butchering and Skinning skills instead of looking for someone to teach me? The spell list had a few different light spells.

After reading their descriptions, I chose a channeled spell that allowed me to change the light intensity as needed and control its placement. It cost two Ability Points instead of one, but the extra control was worth it. 46 Ability Points left. ADAPTABLE LIGHT BALL Adaptable Light Ball is a versatile channeled spell that grants the caster the ability to manipulate light with precision.

This spell allows the user to adjust the intensity of the light, ranging from a gentle glow to a bright, focused beam, with the brightness increasing the more mana is channeled. The caster can control the placement of the light, making it possible to illuminate specific areas or objects as needed. It is handy for detailed work or when a customized lighting setup is required. Cost: 2 Ability Points While at it, I bought the Skinning, Butchering, and Mining skills.

SKINNING Skinning is a practical gathering skill that enables the user to remove a creature's hide, pelt, or scales without causing unnecessary damage. The skill improves precision and efficiency, ensuring maximum yield from each animal harvested. It is favored by hunters, trappers, and anyone who works with leather or fur. Cost: 1 Ability Point BUTCHERING Butchering is a foundational processing skill that enables users to efficiently break down carcasses into usable cuts of meat, bones, and other resources.

The skill improves speed and accuracy, reducing waste while preserving the best parts for cooking, trade, or crafting. It is favored by hunters, cooks, and those who prepare supplies for long journeys. Cost: 1 Ability Point MINING Mining is a core gathering skill that allows the user to extract stone, ores, and minerals from natural formations more effectively. Each strike becomes more precise, yielding increased resources and reducing the chance of damaging valuable materials.

It is favored by craftsmen, builders, and anyone who relies on raw materials for their trade. Cost: 1 Ability Point Just to be sure, I rechecked the spells and skills to see if anything could help with looting. Unfortunately, there was still nothing. Oh well, you can't have everything. 43 Ability Points left. The next day, mining was easier, but it was still not one hundred percent.

Even with the skill, hacking away at solid rock with a medical bone chisel in one hand and a heavy workman's hammer in the other was anything but efficient. The chisel was too small, and the hammer was too big; together, they made for clumsy, uneven work. I made progress, but every strike reminded me how much better real mining gear would have been. At least I was moving faster than before. The Adaptable Light Ball, though, was terrific.

Being able to adjust the light allowed me to see every crack and shadow in the stone. At least I finally had proper lighting for the job, and that alone made the work bearable. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. Stretch spent most of his time outside; he didn't like to stay in the cave. A claustrophobic dog? The days blurred together as I mined, each strike of the chisel chipping away at both the stone and the anger inside me.

I thought about the other foster kids, how they would form alliances and protect each other when they could, but never me. In the end, everyone was out for themselves, and I had been an unwanted outcast from the start. I struck the rock with renewed force, the chisel biting deep and nearly snapping again. As the days turned into weeks, more memories resurfaced. The physical work and the repeated strikes helped me release the anger from my system.

I thought about the fire that had almost killed me and the two kids I suspected had died, even if nobody was willing to admit it. The bullies at school who wrote slurs on my locker, shoved me in the halls, or tore up my notebooks, while the foster parents refused to replace them. One of the last homes where I was placed came back to mind. The Petersons. They weren't physically abusive, but they were neglectful in the worst way.

I would come home to an empty house with no food, and a certainty that they didn't care if I came back at all. The loneliness of those years was a wound that never fully healed. The rock cracked under my relentless assault, and I allowed myself a small, grim smile. Each piece that fell away was a piece of the past that I was letting go of. For the next few days, I continued to work through my memories. Each hammer strike delivered a cathartic release. I remembered Mrs.

Kendell, who had me for a year when I was twelve. She was obsessed with cleanliness and made me scrub the floors with a small brush if she thought I wasn't thorough enough. Every night, I went to bed with raw, aching knees and hands. I channeled that pain into my mining, and each chunk of emerald felt like a minor victory over those memories. And the pile of victories was growing fast. The days blurred together, each one slightly less burdened by the past. I recalled Mr.

Jenkins, who never hit me but used words as his weapons. He tore me down, calling me worthless, saying I would never amount to anything. I struck the rock with such fury my muscles burned, and another chisel snapped. Sighing, I took out a new one and kept going, not just for the emeralds but for the cleansing of my soul. With each blow, I felt lighter, breaking free from the chains of my past.

After one especially strong and angry strike, which for once did not break another chisel, a bubble of hurt popped inside me and dissipated. I almost heard the pop. My whole being clenched like a cramp, then released, and a wave of intense relief washed over me. It was so strong I swayed on my feet for a moment. For almost two weeks, I worked day after day until the last of the mana-rich meat was gone. I didn't want to leave the cave so soon, but I also didn't want to delay Stretch's awakening.

After some thought, I came up with an idea. I pulled out one of my coolers packed with chicken and set it on the stone beside me. Slipping my hand under the lid, I let the mana flow slowly, trying to saturate the meat without blowing it up. There was a pop inside the cooler, then another, and when I lifted the lid, I found minced chicken where the smaller cuts had been, but the whole chickens stayed whole. I leaned back on my heels, grinning like an idiot. It wasn't perfect, but it was progress nonetheless.

For another ten days, I worked until there were no more stones I could reach. I took out my "operating table," climbed on it, and continued to mine. The Mining skill on my profile progressed, but only to level 3, which was strange. I mined a lot. Maybe because I was improvising and not using the right tools? My mana had risen another 600, and now was 6, 150/6, 900. Again, there was no rhyme or reason. I didn't even get upset or surprised this time; there was no point.

Some entity in the sky assigned random numbers whenever it felt like it. At least the numbers never decreased, but only increased. I continued for another three weeks until I couldn't reach any higher while standing on the table. Of course, I hadn't brought a ladder; why would I? For a minute or two, I thought about leaving the rest, but the greedy squirrel that apparently lived inside me threw a tantrum, stomping its tiny feet and refusing to let me quit. I thought about it for a while and came up with an idea.

Outside, I climbed down the mountain and scanned the landscape for trees with relatively narrow but tall trunks. It took a while; I wasn't in a forest, so I had to walk around scrub and boulders, peering at every lonely tree that grew out of the rough ground. Finally, I found two long and narrow trunks that looked like they would do the job. At least I had bought hatchets from the camping store. Without them, it would have been impossible, and the thought of hacking away at a tree with a chisel made me wince.

In addition, I gathered sturdy branches, dragging them back one by one, and used the bone saw from the field dressing kit to cut them down to approximately three feet each. I had the hammer I got as payment for healing, which I had been using for mining, but I didn't have any nails. Rubbing my face in frustration solved nothing, and I was feeling less self-conscious about the mountain of stuff I'd bought back on Earth—realizing, if anything, I hadn't bought enough.

I should find a blacksmith or something and stock up on work tools and nails. I laid the two trunks side by side, arranged the branches as ladder steps, and bound them with rope. At least I had bought a lot of rope in various thicknesses, and sent a silent thank you to the authors of my "manuals" for listing rope as one of the adventuring "must-haves." When it was done, the ladder stood about twelve or thirteen feet tall. Hauling it up the mountain turned into an adventure of its own.

I hoisted it onto my shoulder, took two steps, and nearly toppled backward. Shifting it under one arm almost dragged me sideways down the slope. In the end, I balanced it across my back and neck like a yoke and inched my way upward. I stumbled a few times but got it to the cave entrance. Forcing the ladder through the narrow passage turned into another battle. I shoved it ahead of me, scraping it along the stone, bumping into walls, and getting stuck more than once.

By the time I squeezed into the cavern, the rock mounds from mining blocked it from going further in. I leaned the ladder against the wall with a groan and admitted to myself that some maintenance was definitely in order. With an enormous trunk and a shovel in hand, I started loading the debris. After about ten minutes of work, I facepalmed, groaned, rubbed my face in frustration, and shook my head. My face burned as I thought about lugging the ladder all the way up the mountain.

I didn't need a mirror to know I was tomato red, fidgeting as I rubbed my face again. Thank God there was no one around to see. Otherwise, I would have had to leave Shimoor out of sheer shame. Then I walked between the mounds and stored them. When the cave was relatively clean, I went outside and called for Stretch—I didn't want to bury him by accident—then walked far enough from the cave and summoned all the dirt at once.

A small avalanche tumbled down the mountain, but when it settled at the bottom, it didn't look like it had done much damage. I returned to the cavern and continued mining. It took another five weeks to dig out all the emeralds I could reach. Some stones were still higher up, but my greedy squirrel stayed quiet this time, as if it understood the difficulty. I also had to saturate two more meat coolers with mana—Stretch ate a lot. After that, I identified him to check his progress over the last three months.

Stretch Adult Bushland Dog Progress to awakening 67%"You're looking good, buddy." He wagged his tail and licked my face. I added mana to my light spell and walked around the cavern to see if I had missed any accessible stones. None were visible. Checked my mana—no change. As I thought, there was no rhyme or reason. But looking at my profile gave me an idea. I still had the six free points from before, so I added them to Luck as a bribe, engaged the active Luck ability, and looked around the cave again.

Two areas "pinged" in my awareness. I marked one with a tent peg and began working on the other. I had to clear some rocks and dirt, but then I reached another deposit of emeralds, which were even bigger. It took me another week to mine the two hidden pockets. After I was done, I activated my Luck again and checked. Nothing pinged; even my Luck knew the stones up high were unreachable. Smart Luck.

I snickered at the thought, collected all my stuff spread over the cavern, took the improvised ladder with me, just in case, and left the cave. In the last three months, I mined two enormous chests of emeralds and was feeling very rich. It was midday, and spending more time outdoors felt nice. I left the cave to relieve myself and to get a sense of the days, but other than that, I spent all my time inside. I climbed back to the mountaintop and sat, taking in the view.

For so long, I'd focused on small areas that I felt cross-eyed. It was nice to expand my field of vision. I took my camera out and took some pictures. By evening, I returned to the cave one last time, fed us both, and slept. The following day, we needed to "visit" the bison.