Chương 19: The First Cubic Centimeter

On this his initiation as a monster butcher, Jordan got through just the one carcass. He'd taken too long. By the time he'd talked himself into trudging toward a second dead Grandelope, Canyon was back. At her waist, next to her Gourd of Foresight, hung four glistening Glands in a neat string. Four to Jordan's one; it paid to be knowledgeable and proficient. At the sight of the Glands being so close to a Gourd, he nearly hurled again. But then he remembered that this Gourd wasn't meant for drinking water.

Indeed, it was the whole reason the party had just undergone this grisly exercise. Canyon, on the other hand, took one look at Jordan and seemed to clock everything. Wordless, she stepped off the horse and cast [Shape Liquid] —the same spell a Brothmaster had once cast to salvage spilled milk. On this occasion, it was used to rid Jordan of all the monster blood (and human vomit) threatening to turn solid on his person. The intervention was timely and much needed.

Not a moment later, they were joined by Foxhill and his eight Glands—double even Canyon's haul. The man gave Jordan and his pitiful contribution a pointed look, but decided not to say anything about it." Now," Foxhill moved onto the next point of discussion, even as he began to hitch the horses back onto the carriage, "about divvying up the mana loot. I'll say my piece first, then you tell me if you've got any objections, yeah?" Divvying up. Until this moment, Jordan hadn't even considered it.

Fighting as a party was also a thing in the computer version of Vesselia, but the loot there was distributed automatically after being wrung through some black box calculations." Way I see it," Foxhill went on, "I should get something like 80%. I killed 12 of the 13 Grandelopes, after all. Even harvested eight of the Glands. But none of that would've been possible if it weren't for Miss Canyon's [Perfect Driving]. I'm feeling generous enough to say that warrants a 20% cut.

So generous, in fact, that I'm also willing to round that up. So, let's say ten Glands for me, and three for—"" What about Jordan?" Foxhill let out a long sigh through pursed lips. He then put on the mother of all fake smiles before turning to face his paying customers." Still on about that, Miss? What do you reckon, Mister? Think your efforts this morning deserved one whole Gland out of 13?" Jordan was more than ready to shake his head no. But then…"

It doesn't matter if you agree to it," Canyon said, mild and matter-of-fact, "because I'll simply give Jordan one of my three. But I do wish for you, Pathfinder, to acknowledge our third party member and the role—however small—he played during the encounter and its aftermath. No matter how you look at it, he deserves more than to come away from this empty-handed." Jordan's [Dig Hole] instinct was itching again. He did appreciate Canyon going to bat for him.

Albeit he got the sense that the Chronicler was merely a stickler for justice and fairness, more so than she had any personal interest in his welfare. Aside from that, he was in full agreement with Foxhill—that his 'contribution' was worth shit and that an empty hand was exactly what he deserved. The Pathfinder in question, however, seemed to relent." Ah, have it your way, Miss; I'm not the boss of you. As for you, Westerner… I'll admit you showed some spirit out there.

Maybe pair that with some actual spells next time, and we could make an adventurer out of you yet." Jordan was too exhausted to argue either way. He mainly just wanted a long, hot shower—maybe more than he wanted mana to fill his cauldron. He wouldn't, of course, say no to the free mana. Quite convenient, then, that he was already holding his share in his hand.

As Foxhill and Canyon settled their accounts, Jordan inspected his Gland in the sunlight, wondering just how the hell he was meant to extract the rosy goodness inside. The answer, as it turned out, was stupidly simple. And elegant in its video game logic. As Jordan watched on in amazement, the two locals crushed the respective Glands in their hands. The glistening organs instantly disintegrated into fine, rose-pink mist—a much more palatable alternative to black blood.

The mist then streamed at speed into the spellcasters' Gourds—their bound Vessels—as if sucked in by a powerful vacuum. Jordan hastened to follow suit. He assumed the task would require considerable grip strength, but that also turned out not to be the case. It seemed it was the intent that mattered most. For as soon as he applied the slightest pressure, the Gland went poof in his hand. The pink mist then shot toward the roof of the cabin, where it phased through the tarp as if it wasn't there.

Gland of Rushing Steppe base mana gain: 100 cc. JORDAN YU gained: 135 cc. Current VR: 135/50, 000 cc (0. 27% partial, 0. 0000135% total) Target VR: 1, 000, 000, 000/1, 000, 000, 000 cc (100%) If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. [Hoarding Mode] remains in effect. It'd taken four days and a humiliating first battle besides. But Jordan Yu the Lv. 30 Gatekeeper was finally on the board. 0.

0000135% of the way toward becoming the most mana-rich spellcaster in all the land. Jordan didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Deciding he'd already been emotional enough for one day, he decided to do neither, instead fiddling with the black box that was his own mind. 35 additional cc from a base gain of 100. At WIS of 23, my VR efficiency is 1. 23. Multiply that by the 10% bonus from [Hoarding Mode] and … yeah, the math checks out. At least this part works the same as the computer version.

Just like that, the old feeling was back. A hit of dopamine, even at the paltry gain of 135 cc. Jordan began to imagine scenarios—more avenues for earning mana. All without casting a single spell, though. Was such a thing even possible? First though, he still had to survive this trip into the city. To that end, he was more than happy to rely on some local guidance. Foxhill had proven himself a more than capable defender of the party.

And Canyon was a staunch if somewhat enigmatic ally, especially when Jordan was at his most vulnerable. Which he was now, as he climbed back onto the carriage to resume the journey. For [Shape Liquid] had gotten rid of the stains but not the smell. And if Jordan thought himself unbearably stinky, he couldn't imagine what it must be like for his companion inside a stuffy cabin. If Canyon too had found him unbearable, she didn't show it.

She went right back to staring out the window, porcelain face serene inside its rectangle. She also hadn't bothered to change her attire, which meant a little of her ankle stuck out amidst the bundles of luggage. Silence stretched once more across the salt flats. But not for long. All that dopamine had put Jordan in an adventurous mood. Adventurous enough, say, to strike up a conversation with the mystery woman allegedly from Amber Lake."

So," he asked with as much nonchalance as he could muster; given the circumstance, it wasn't much, "what does a Chronicler do, anyway? In the base ga— ahem —back in the, er, Commonwealth, I'd never come across a class like yours." For nearly half a minute, Canyon didn't react at all. Jordan was just about to shelve his ill-timed icebreaking attempt, when…" It's exactly what it sounds like," she answered without moving from the window.

"I chronicle the history of this nation, the way I perceive it with my eyes and my magic. Its people, its landscapes. The little happenings across the land with no one to observe them, nor a brush to capture. I try to be that observer, that brush." So … kinda like a journalist, then? But, in the base game, that job would've gone to a regular ol' Scribe. A historian? Nope, that would be a Scholar. Then … some kind of weird mix of the two?" Is that why you travel a lot?"

Jordan pressed, now eyeing the woman's overpacked luggage.

"And… travel under an alias?" Canyon—if that indeed were her name—turned around slowly. Her eyes remained ostensibly calm despite their blazing brilliance. She seemed to size up her cabin-mate, neither defensive nor accusatory." Something tells me that you, Jordan Yu, also haven't been entirely truthful about who you are." An indirect admission?

"Tell me, how fares the Commonwealth Navy and their expansion into the New World? Last I heard, some of the Gracelanders are giving you a spot of trouble." A barely veiled attempt at challenging his claims to be a Westerner. Jordan managed a smile of wry amusement. Truth be told, some of those buzzwords did ring a bell… in an eighth-grade Social Studies sort of way. But he chose not to engage. He knew the question had been more rhetorical than not."

So, we're both hiding things about ourselves," he said smoothly, starting to enjoy the conversation a little.

"That's fine by me. I meant what I said about not intending to pry. I am curious, though. Would a Chronicler write about someone like me? And if so, what would she write?" She studied him from her rectangle." She would write of a Lv. 30 spellcaster who doesn't seem interested in casting any spells. She would write of a grown man severely discomfited by the sight and smell of monster blood. Perhaps she would also write… of a stranger who seems determined to be overfamiliar. Have I got the measure of you, Jordan Yu?

Is there anything else you'd like me to add?" Canyon said all this in a lightly teasing tone, appreciable even when masked by her baseline snobbery. Even so, Jordan found himself taking every criticism to heart. They'd hit far too close to home." You can write about my [Doom Spiral]," he grumbled, instantly back to his baseline self-defeatism.

"That should be good for a laugh, at least. Someone will be reading this, yes? You can also tell your readers I'm one more failure away from hitting Lv. 2."" [Doom Spiral]?" Canyon frowned slightly.

"I'm not sure I'm familiar."" Really? It's just this Affliction. Gives me a penalty on all ability checks until I cure it." Canyon stared intently. Jordan felt himself grow hot. He had the uncomfortable notion that he might have been a little too casual with his use of Vesselia lingo. Could it be that these NPCs aren't fully aware that their lives are governed by game mechanics—by dice rolls of all things? In the end, however, Canyon picked up the thread as if it had never been dropped.

"… And how do you cure it?"" By rolling three successes in a row. That's assuming it doesn't escalate to Lv. 2 first."

"… And this is a problem because…?"" Huh? What do you mean?"" I'm saying… if there's such an easy cure, why haven't you cured yourself yet?"" Easy? Well, for you, maybe. I started out alright enough, but then my last two rolls have been abysmal."" Just find easier ability checks."" Find easier—wait, you can do that?" She studied him from her rectangle. The scarf around her mouth rose up and down in an apparent sigh. But if Jordan weren't mistaken, her eyes were slightly softened in a teasing smile."

You, Jordan, have just given me an idea to while away my boredom… at least until the next battle. You and I are going to pull you out of your [Doom Spiral]."