Chapter Twenty-two. At level.

Chapter Twenty-two. At level.

Bob was once again sitting at a table in the tavern with Elli and Harv, eating some sort of creamy soup.

"So," said Harv between bites, "now that you've had some time to let the praise sink in, let's go over what you did wrong on level five today."

Bob made a motion with his empty spoon that could have been generously constructed as "Go on."

"You were attacked, steadily as soon as you were twenty-five feet from the Gate," Harv said, "so why did you keep pressing forward? You were over a hundred feet in before you stopped."

Bob stopped chewing through what seemed to be a chunk of potato, and considered. Why had he kept pushing down the tunnel?

He started chewing again and mulled it over. Harv and Elli kept eating, and it seemed like they were going to wait for his answer before continuing the conversation.

He ate slowly, finishing most of his bowl, before pushing it away and draining his mug of water.

"I think," Bob started slowly, "that it's because I felt a need to progress. To move forward, to be active, rather than passively waiting for the rats to come to me near the gate."

Elli nodded, and pointed his spoon at Bob, "That is the attitude that we need to correct," he said, "you were dangerously close to needing us to intervene for eight hours Bob."

Harv nodded and pushed his empty bowl away to make room for him to lean forward with his elbows on the table. "Despite how well you managed your energy, you were often one rat-bite away from needing help. You didn't experience it, but if you are bitten by two different rats, the venom stacks."

"Level five is the tempering fire for would-be Adventurers," Harv gestured around the guild, "you can't clear it at or near level, it's meant to pressure you with overwhelming odds, and monsters that are deadlier than they ought to be for their level."

Elli spoke up, "You can verify it with Austan, but I believe the current stricture is that a group of at level Adventurers spend no more than three hours on level five, and a group of adventurers fighting for shards, no more than two hours."

Elli pointed a finger at Bob as he went on, "And those are groups, normally three or more adventurers. They need to pull out after just a few hours so they don't succumb to stress and fatigue and make fatal mistakes."

He leaned back, allowing Harv to tag in. "Now, I'll freely acknowledge that you are a decade the senior of most freshers, and you've clearly led a disciplined life, but eight hours demonstrated a flaw," Harv said in a serious tone.

"We were maybe twenty minutes away from pulling you out," Elli finished grimly.

"It might have been better for you if we had to have rescued you," said Harv with a sigh, "I'm worried that your successes so far will give you false confidence that will end up getting you killed."

Bob considered that statement. He hadn't known about the stacking venom, although it didn't surprise him. He had ridden the edge a bit in terms of balancing his resources. He grimaced. Stamina was even more of an issue than mana was, but he didn't have a good answer for it.

Had he been overconfident?

He'd waltzed through the first three levels like Fred Astair on a particularly good day. Even the swamp, while disgusting hadn't been that much of a challenge.

And while he'd made massive gains on level five, he had burned through six healing potions, which at market price was thirty crystals. Had he taken things slowly, and not advanced so far that he'd been fighting off rats from behind as well, he wouldn't have needed any potions.

Then there was the fucking light. He'd thought of it before but somehow failed to address the issue that he was going underground, without a damn flashlight.

There were likely other lighting solutions available, that while not as convenient, wouldn't carry a one hundred crystal initial outlay, and then require crystals to function. Like a fucking tiki torch. Stick it in the ground, fight in the light. Refill the oil every couple of hours.

He shook his head.

"I definitely made mistakes today," he said, looking first at Harv and then at Elli. "I'll definitely work to address those," Bob leaned forward and went on, "but as Thidwell said, I'm on a timer. When I was blown into this reality, my best friend was left behind, trapped, with only a few weeks worth of food, and no way out."

"Getting back isn't an option in the time I have before he starves, so Thidwell suggested I summon him," Bob said, keeping his voice low. "My best chance of success is to level my Summoning School, and myself."

He leaned back as he finished, "Oh, and of course I'll need crystals for the ritual, and to buy better equipment, and to repay everyone here that I owe for looking out for me."

"So while I made quite a few mistakes yesterday, I made real strides as well."

Elli and Harv had listened attentively, and it was Elli who spoke first, "As long as you can see where you erred, you're on the right path."

Harv picked up, and Bob idly mused that it was a bit like verbal table tennis with these two, "Tomorrow we'll go back to level five, and you can show us that you've learned from today, and hopefully make some more progress."

"We," Harv and Elli exchanged glances, "understand the time crisis you're working under. We're willing to overlook the normal strictures for time spent in the Dungeon, for the moment. We definitely don't want you to develop the habit of long days underneath though," Harv finished.

Bob nodded and replied, "Alright, so that being settled, let me ask you this - have you ever heard of a tiki torch?"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

'Is the system not static?' he mentally projected.

'It both is and isn't,' Trebor responded, 'keep in mind that the skills you are using were, at some point, introduced into the System by someone, somewhere, experimenting with mana. The skills you'll find in the system have a bit of, shall we say, 'Wiggle room', built into them, because mana, by its nature, encourages change.'

'So I could create my own spells?' Bob thought eagerly.

'Yes, although anything that is too close to what already exists will simply refer you to that Skill,' Trebor replied.

'And,' Trebor went on, 'given that the System governing this universe has been in place for slightly more than fourteen billion years, with over ten million since the last time a revision was required, you'll likely find it difficult to create a Skill that isn't already present, although your knowledge of the fundamental realities of the universe might lead to your creating some esoteric Skills.'

'What is the process to create a new skill?' Bob projected.

'You sit down with a hundred crystals and starting pushing mana through them while focusing on the Magical School and mentally projecting the mana pattern for the skill you're trying to create,' Trebor answered.

Ah.

Fucking crystals. It all came down to fucking crystals.

And levels. And skills. And skill levels.

Bob finished his meal and looked towards Harv.

"Deep thoughts?" Harv asked.

"Just coming to the realization that I'm going to need a pile of crystals larger than I am," Bob replied.

Elli grinned at him and said, "That is one of the ways you know you're an Adventurer," he let out a laugh as he stood up, "you never have enough crystals."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

One more meal, two trips down through the gate, three lamp refills, seven hours, and one thousand, three hundred and twenty rats later, Bob saw the experience bar for his Summon Monster skill fill, and then empty back out.

He let his three UtahRaptors guard him as he walked the few feet back to the safety of the gate.

"Done," he said tiredly.

"And well done at that," said Harv, as he activated the Gate.

Bob followed them through the gate and paused in the mausoleum.

Austan wasn't there. Another man, wearing the same type of robes, but much younger, was sitting in the chair.

"Ah, excuse me," Bob said awkwardly. He'd been expecting Austan.

"Clyde," was the helpful response.

"Clyde, I'm going to use my summon monster spell, I want to check it's status now that I've leveled the spell up," Bob said.

Clyde nodded, and opened his book, presumably to find their Delve and mark them safe.

Summon: UtahRaptor(Jake) Tier: 5 Size: 5 Level: 5 Weapon Hardness: 15 Hide hardness: 10 Strength: 18 Mana: 7 Armor: 33.15 Coordination: 18 Stamina: 18 Claw Damage: 126.14 Endurance: 10 Health: 75 Bite Damage: 122.57 Intelligence: 7 Movement: 25 Wisdom: 7 Dodge 23 Beauty: 10 Caster Value / 2 56

He immediately dismissed Jake, not needing to cause Clyde any undue distress. Although he did sort of enjoy seeing people's reactions to the UtahRaptor, he was just too fucking tired.

The real improvements Jake showed were his health, which had tripled, as had his dodge, and his armor which had doubled. Even with his level reduced to two by the halving of persistent effect, he was still much more durable than he had been.

It was pretty clear that there weren't going to be any monumental gains in damage, but it was creeping up as well. He considered that it would probably increase more rapidly now that he was going to be gaining levels, which would impact his casting score, which in turn would impact the UtahRaptor's ability to rip things to shreds.

But for now, sleep beckoned.

Tomorrow was the big day. Down to level six of the Dungeon, where he could finally advance his level, and gather the crystals he needed to save Monroe.

He took a moment to close his eyes. "Hold on buddy," he muttered as his chest tightened, "I'll get you out of there."