Ar'Kendrithyst

Waking to the smell of bacon was like falling through several dreams.

The first dream was a displaced time from over two decades ago, when he had a different person in his bed every night. He was almost always the first one to wake in the morning, and he always made breakfast; bacon, eggs, and toast. But no, he was 48 now. His 20s were long gone. The dream was recognized, and then it faded.

And then came an impression of three months ago, when Jane showed him the letter of acceptance for an internship at the CIA. They had gone out for Sunday breakfast like they had done every week, when she was a little girl; a tradition that they hadn’t done for the last three years; she was at college. Jane loved her bacon growing up, and that day was no different. She got three orders of bacon and one order of toast. Erick was trying to cut back, as per doctor’s orders. Erick got a cheese omelet and home fries. A far cry from when he used to match Jane pound for pound with the bacon. That day was full of sobering moments. He had kept himself together in front of her, but after the joyful hugs were done and she went to bed in her old room, Erick went out to the old treehouse and silently cried for an hour.

He opened his eyes to see a stone ceiling and colorful pillows all around. Al was setting down a tray of something on the coffee table in the middle of the room, but most of Erick was still asleep, and looking at Al… Al was a great guy and basically a supermodel.

Erick wasn’t ready for that kind of dream. He turned to face the wall.

Rushing water sounded up far away stairs.

The sounds of voices all around ended a forgotten dream of darkness.

Erick sat up. Al and Jane were still talking about Scions, but this time there was a large tray of empty plates sitting on the coffee table. One plate of food remained; it had been set aside from the rest, but Erick hadn’t the wherewithal quite yet to understand what kind of food it was.

“Good morning, Dad.”

“Welcome back, Erick.”

Erick sighed deeply. “You two still arguing about the best Scion?”

“Oh, I know the best answer,” Al said. “But your daughter likes to fight.”

“Speaking of. Dad? How far did you get before you crashed?”

Erick looked at his Status, rubbing his eyes, glancing through menus until he found what he was looking for. “Uh. [Ward 4], [Meditation 5].”

Jane smiled. “[Ward 6], [Meditation 6]. Base Level 10.”

With that bit of smugness, Erick took the time to study the remaining tray of food. There was fluffy yellow stuff that was probably eggs, thin bread like a crepe, and long strips of red meat. Breakfast Tortillas, probably. He began making himself one. There wasn’t a whole lot left, but it should be enough to make two wraps.

Jane prodded, “What? No response?”

Erick looked up from wrapping his tortilla. “You’re a monster, Jane.”

She cackled as Al laughed.

Erick asked, “Are we going in the sewers today?”

“Not until you get [Ward 6], Dad.”

And for some reason, Erick was feeling a bit more miffed at the whole existence of magic than usual. It might have been the ‘grinding’ as Jane called it, or maybe the fact that, yes, they did already survive a skydive without a parachute. It could have been the mana exhaustion talking. But the cumulative effect was that Erick’s hesitation regarding killing a known threat in the sewers was, for some reason, nonexistent.

Feeling such a weird ‘killing’ feeling caused him to pause in thought. As the strange feeling overtook him, he had almost instantly blurted out about them going to the sewers right this second. Now, he was not quite sure. He was a pacifist, for sure. But did that pacifism include killer monsters? On Veird, ‘pacifist’ meant something vastly different than on Earth, mostly dealing with how an incani or a human viewed the Quiet War.

No one had the hangups regarding killing monsters that Erick seemed to have. Jane was probably right, that shadowolves should be killed, because otherwise they would kill people. There wasn’t anything to ‘talk out’ with monsters that viewed him as their next meal.

—But he was sure that if he found some monsters that talked, his first instinct wouldn’t be ‘KILL IT!’.

Erick wasn’t about to kill some harmless slimes, though.

That thought led to a different question. “Hey, Al? Why aren’t oozes threats as soon as they spawn? What’s with the 10 day timer?”

Al shook his head, saying, “That timer is only an approximation. The ooze will come out of the sewers when it can’t find slimes around every corner. That is the real timer. But you must understand that Spur is an old city, with the same sewer system for the last three hundred years and a strict allowance for new adventurers to hunt slimes. When an ooze appears—” A bell chimed across the hallway. Al stood up, sighing. “Seems I am needed upstairs.”

Erick said to Jane, “Let’s go kill that ooze, Jane. After I finish this breakfast tortilla.” He almost took a bite of his wrap, but added, “And I find a good damage spell to take.”

Jane smirked. “Sure. But that’s not a breakfast tortilla. It’s a 3pm tortilla. You slept almost all day.”

“… Okay then.” Erick ate his afternoon tortilla. It was pretty good.

Jane pointed to a pair of straight staffs propped up in the corner of the room. “I got us some starter weapons, too. 5 silver apiece. You can get a spear for a gold, but I didn’t want to go down to 1 gold. But with a trip through the sewers, we might be okay for a while. One adult slime core contains one rad and they’re 3 gold on average.”

“I don’t want to kill any slimes if we don’t have to.”

“I’m not going to go out of my way to chase them down, especially when there’s something as dangerous as an ooze prowling the darkness. But we need the money.”

“… Fair enough.”

Al walked into view.

Along with Guildmaster Mog.

He said, “There’s been a change of plans.”

“Al and I are headed in to take care of the oozes, but he seems to think that it would be good experience for you two. I think you would get killed. You should stay here, Jane. Erick.”

Erick paled. “Oozes? Plural?”

Al said, “A rookie squad of four level 15s went in this morning with clearance to tackle the ooze kill quest I posted in the Guildhouse. One returned. She reported that there are at least three oozes. She’s coming with us to claim whatever is left of her friends. Do you wish to come as well? I would not hold it against you if you wish to stay behind.” He pointed upward. “Savral and Bacci are staying here and the sewerhouse is going into lockdown until I return.”

“… Maybe three oozes are too much.” Jane said, “I’ll stay here with my father. Thank you for the warning, Guildmaster Mog. Sewermaster Al.”

“Smart girl.” Mog walked back upstairs.

Al nodded to Jane and Erick. “I’d suggest you stay here while we go into lockdown, but I won’t enforce this suggestion. What do you say?”

“We’ll stay here.” Erick asked, “Do you expect something to actually happen while you’re gone?”

Al laughed. “The Sewerhouse’s rules are well known, so there’s a saying about times like these. ‘Don’t ever think you’re safe, because that’s when the monsters get you.’ But Savral and Bacci can handle most threats.” He almost walked back up, but then he paused and asked, “What attack spell were you thinking of buying, if you were going with us?”

Erick looked over the spells he was thinking about. There was his first choice in [Force Shrapnel].