Chương 495: B8—Chapter 2: Oompa Loompas

One day, while Mahya was working, a demon rabbit jumped at her and bit her ear. It startled her badly enough that she bent an important pipe. Not one to let things go, the rabbit paid for it with its life. Mahya wanted to revenge-eat it, and that was how we discovered it was delicious with a delicate taste and a sweet aftertaste. Rue got a new job. Instead of chasing the rabbits, he flew to different spots around the grassland and simply stood there. I watched him do it once. He landed, sat down, and waited.

Within seconds, three rabbits charged him from different directions. Rue caught one in his mouth, swatted another away with a paw, and snapped up the third before it could bite him. He trotted back looking unbearably pleased with himself.

"Good job, buddy," I said, scratching him behind the ear. He pranced around with his snout pointed at the sky, looking as proud as if he'd just slain a dragon. Every day, he brought home plenty of meat for our barbecues. There were so many rabbits, and Rue became such an accomplished hunter, that after four weeks we had enough rabbit meat to last us a year, even with his frequent lunches.

In our last two weeks in the grasslands, temperatures dropped by the day, and the rains grew more frequent, to the point that the ground rarely dried and stayed muddy most of the time. We packed up all the spread-out projects and moved on. There were quite a few towns and cities further north along the coastline, but after a short deliberation, we chose to head south instead. None of us wanted to double back later. In that direction, the towns were farther apart and tucked into forested areas.

With the frequent rain, taking the balloon didn't sound appealing, so we went with the jeep fitted with monster wheels and headed that way. It took us two days to reach the grasslands' edge, and we encountered several large herds of herbivores along the way. They were barrel-bodied creatures with four thick legs and broad, shovel-like mouths that cropped the grass in wide sweeps. One of them even chased the jeep. Stupid animals. Closer to the end of the grasslands, it became obvious that autumn had arrived.

When we finally saw trees, their leaves were changing color and falling. After another day of travel, we came close to the first city, or maybe a large town. As was our tradition, we stored the jeep, turned invisible, and flew the last stretch, keeping an eye out for people so we could learn the language. The residents of this world were orange, like Oompa Loompas, with dark hair and eyes that stood out sharply against their skin. Once the eye adjusted, the color felt natural rather than strange.

Their features were soft, and most of them wore calm, open expressions that made the place feel welcoming. They dressed in layered robes and long tunics, mostly in muted earth tones, faded reds, browns, and greens. Sashes, simple embroidery, and cloth shoes were common, with little metal or jewelry in evidence. Everything looked hand-made. As we walked the streets, listening to the language, a vendor called out from a steaming food cart.

Before he'd finished, several people had drifted over and chatted as they waited.

"Food smell good," Rue sent. We took the hint, ducked into an empty alley, and turned visible again. Sadly for my nosy friend, by the time we returned to the street, the vendor had sold out and packed up. Rue spent the next two streets walking with his head hanging so low you'd think the world had personally betrayed him. A little girl stopped in the middle of the street when a yellow leaf landed on her nose.

She giggled, brushed it away, and ran after her mother, who was balancing a basket full of vegetables on one hip. Rue watched her go and somehow that restored his previous good mood. The architecture leaned heavily toward a Chinese influence. Buildings were low with curved, winged roofs and deep overhangs. Dark wooden beams contrasted with pale stone foundations, and red-painted columns framed doorways and walkways.

The streets were wide and clean, mostly paved with stone, and scattered with fallen orange and gold leaves that no one seemed in a hurry to sweep away. Food smells drifted constantly through the air. Warm grains, roasted roots, stewed vegetables, and something sweet and nutty that reminded me of baked pastries. Small street stalls sold a variety of foods, and this time Rue wasn't about to let another vendor escape.

He dragged us from one stall to the next, his tail wagging nonstop, and every successful stop earned an enthusiastic,"Food good!" before he rushed off in search of the next one. With the trees blazing in autumn colors and the people sharing the same orange hue, they looked oddly color-coordinated. Stolen story; please report. Although the Guidance didn't recommend glamor, we still used it to look local, stayed at a local inn, and spent a little over two weeks in the town.

I offered my services as a Healer and had a steady stream of patients for the first ten days. I'd almost forgotten what it was like to heal in a low mana world. For the last few years, most of my work involved injuries, either fresh or old, things like missing limbs, crushed bones, and deep trauma. Here, it was different. I treated mostly diseases and everyday problems like infections, chronic pain, joint issues, lingering fevers, stomach troubles, burns, and an impressive amount of dental decay.

It was simpler work, but it turned out to be very good for my Healer class. On my second day in town, after only six patients, the worst of them a badly infected burn, I got my first level raise. Level Up +3 Intelligence, +3 Wisdom, +2 Vitality, +3 Free points Class: Healer Level 21 Free Points: 18 It didn't surprise me. I'd done a lot of healing back at the outpost after my previous level, and that effort was clearly still counting. But then, after another seven days of steady work, it happened again.

Level Up +3 Intelligence, +3 Wisdom, +2 Vitality, +3 Free points Class: Healer Level 22 Free Points: 21 The spell that progressed the most was Regrow Enamel. Many people had tooth problems, and apparently, years of poor dental care made an excellent training regimen for a Healer. Once the patient stream dwindled to one or two a day, I switched to selling. Like before, linens and towels were an instant hit, and I sold half of the stock I had left.

I could've sold it all, but it turned out Mahya and Al had stock too, and I was a nice friend. I also sold all my light plates, and they were a roaring success. Appraisal said they were worth three gold, but since I was chasing a new profession and not money, I sold them for two. When Mahya heard about it, she sighed and shook her head like a disappointed parent.

"The spider was right. You're the worst Merchant in existence." I didn't really have anything to say, so I stuck my tongue out at her. She tried to slap the back of my head, but I was faster, so she got another stuck-out tongue instead. Al sold some of the fire starter rings and a lot of potions, so he was quite pleased. Mahya didn't sell a single wand or stave, since the place didn't have magical classes, so she was less pleased. Still, all in all, she wasn't too disappointed.

Rue, of course, made friends with the local kids and had a lot of fun. Every afternoon, a whistle sounded outside the inn. Rue bolted through the doorway so fast he nearly knocked one of us over, and half a dozen children took off after him, laughing. He talked with them in mana speech, after he'd gotten good practice in the Genomey world. More and more, he spoke with us in mana speech as well, instead of telepathy.

We didn't really care either way, and the only difference was that his use of mana potions increased. But since we had an in-house Alchemist, it wasn't a problem. The only fly in the ointment was that, despite selling all the light plates and some of the enchanted items, I didn't get any kind of offer from the Guidance, either for free or for ability points. After eighteen days, we were ready to move on.

We sat in the common room of the inn, mugs cooling in front of us, watching rain hammer against the windows hard enough to blur the street outside into gray streaks. Al leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over his stomach.

"Are we using the jeep, or do you intend to fly?" Mahya didn't look away from the window. She rested her forehead against the glass for a second, then pushed herself upright with a quiet sigh.

"I'm not flying in this weather."

"Yeah," I said, watching water spill from the gutters like a waterfall.

"Same." Al's fingers tapped against the table.

"Then we will have to store the jeep before every town or city. And if we stay on the road, it is likely to draw attention." Mahya turned, scowling.

"I'm also not riding the bike in this weather." I stared at the street again, watching a cart struggle through the mud the rain had washed across it. Its wheels slipped, caught, then slipped again as the driver leaned forward with his entire weight to keep it moving. After a moment, I cleared my throat.

"You know," I said, "back in Lumis, I had the core absorb a wagon and then take its shape." Mahya shook her head on reflex, then stopped mid-motion. Her eyes flicked to me.

"How was it inside?"

"Normal," I said.

"Like the house." Al's eyebrows climbed, nearly disappearing into his hairline. Mahya slowly started nodding.

"That could work," she said.

"I'll handle it." The next day, Mahya rounded the corner leading four horses behind her. For a second, I thought she'd bought a siege engine, until I realized I was looking at the wagon. It was enormous, easily ten meters long, with six massive wheels nearly as tall as I was. Instead of sitting on top of the axles, the wagon's body hung low between them. One glance at the team pulling it was enough to understand why. The horses looked almost normal.

They had the same broad heads, long faces, flowing manes, and swishing tails as the horses I knew. The only obvious difference was their legs. They were ridiculously short, less than half the length they should have been, making the animals squat and much lower to the ground. They looked like someone had crossed a horse with a Dachshund. Horseshunds, I guess. Still, they were kind of normal. No carnivorous teeth, or being pack dogs at least.

It took the rain another full day to ease into a thin drizzle, and we took that as our cue. We left early, wheels hissing softly on wet stone as the town disappeared behind us. A couple of kilometers down the road, we guided the horses off the main track and into a patch of soaked grass. I climbed down and unhitched the team while Mahya calmed them. Once the traces were clear, I opened the house in its small configuration with the deck, pushed the wagon onto it, and told the core to absorb it.

It disappeared into the floor. I ordered the core to close, then open again as the wagon. The shape flowed back into place, boards settling, wheels reforming, everything exactly where it had been. I peeked inside. All was well. A cozy living room, the fire already lit. We hitched the horses back up, climbed aboard, and rolled on, the drizzle tapping softly against the roof as the road stretched ahead.