Chapter Thirty-Eight. Is... Is the System the baddie?

Chapter Thirty-Eight. Is... Is the System the baddie?

Bob was laying on his bed with a purring Monroe sprawled on his chest.

He had almost died today.

Twice.

And no one seemed to find that odd.

He was forced to consider that this world was much more savage and primal than Earth. It was easy to get caught up in the current and go with the flow, but underneath the thin veneer of civilization, this was very much a kill or be killed place, and humans didn't seem to be anywhere near the top of the food chain.

Or mana chain. Whatever.

"Hey Trebor," he muttered, "I've got a question or two."

'You know you don't have to actually speak for me to hear you, so why are you?' Trebors voice responded.

"Because having mental conversations is kind of weird, and I'm by myself anyway. Monroe won't judge me, will you buddy?" Bob said as he stroked Monroe, who opened one eye for a moment before closing it again, clearly indicating that as long as the petting continued, he didn't care if his human-servant talked to himself.

"So, I nearly died twice yesterday," Bob said.

'In point of fact, three times,' Trebor corrected him, 'Being swarmed by the leading edge of the wave, the H.E.S.R. bite, and you were just under two-tenths of a second from impacting the ground."

Bob blinked.

"Fuck, am I somehow becoming accustomed to being in mortal fucking danger?" He growled out.

'The human mind is a wondrous and versatile thing, eternally adaptable,' Trebor said.

"Everyone else seems to just accept that on any given day you might almost die," Bob said, "so I have to ask, how many people, or rather what percentage of the population dies due to monsters?"

'Close enough to one hundred percent as to make no difference, statistically speaking,' Trebor responded instantly.

Bob stopped petting Monroe as he struggled to wrap his mind around that statement.

Monroe extended his claws just a tiny bit as he kneaded his servant, expressing that further extension was possible if the petting did not resume.

Bob started petting his cat again.

"Everyone?" He asked softly.

'There are the occasional accidents that take a life, but with the prevalence of magical healing, those circumstances are rare, and other factors such as disease are also negated by magical healing,' Trebor said.

"What about old age?" Bob asked.

'Bob,' Trebor chided, 'within the system, if you should reach middle age, you need merely increase your level once, and the additional endurance attribute will extend your life span by five years.'

'Why would anyone face middle age, let alone old age, when they can simply delve into a Dungeon and avoid that fate? In fact,' Trebor said, 'gaining a few levels and allocating a few attributes points to endurance can roll back the clock as it were, and return an aging body, with all of its aches and pains, back to the flower of youth.'

"So people fight monsters, until one day something goes wrong, and the monster wins," Bob said.

'Precisely,' Trebor said.

"Fuck." Bob said.

Bob petted Monroe. Monroe purred. Bob thought deeply.

"Doesn't anyone realize that if they just stopped at level ten, or fifteen or twenty even, that they could live great lives if they stopped fighting monsters except for when waves came?" Bob asked.

'There are certainly those, across many races and planets, who have preached this idea, but it has always been regarded as a fringe movement,' Trebor responded.

"Why?" Bob asked flatly, "What am I missing?"

'There are a few factors, the primary one, amusingly enough, is the one that you actually did miss,' Trebor answered, 'as you weren't able to truly experience achieving your first level to tier equivalency point due to the damage to your matrix.'

"And what is the experience of reaching your level to tier equivalency?"

'The physiological effects vary depending on the race, however, the goal of the system is to provide a state of transcendent bliss,' Trebor stated.

"So hitting level five gets you high?" Bob asked incredulously.

'The idea of a 'High', as you know from your world, pales significantly to the bliss the System provides,' Trebor said, 'and the System doesn't inflict any sort of physiological addiction, as does most of the compounds the people on Earth use recreationally.'

"But studies have shown that the high itself creates a desire to experience it again," Bob protested.

'The System has noted that tendency amongst the vast majority of the species within it,' Trebor agreed.

"So the System gives you the perfect high at level five, and people spend the rest of their lives chasing it," Bob concluded in horror.

'Oh not at all,' Trebor said, 'the System provides the experience again at levels ten, fifteen, twenty, and twenty-five.'

Bob rubbed his forehead with one hand while he continued to pet Monroe with the other, taking comfort in his buddy's rumbling purrs.

"I'm not sure if that is any better," he muttered.Updated from novelbIn.(c)om

"So, just to clarify," Bob said, "everyone dies to monsters because they are chasing the eternal youth and perfect high that the System provides?"

"He loves catnip," Bob confided to Elli, "but he's basically comatose for the next half hour."

Elli looked a bit shamefaced as he started gathering up the catnip back into the pouch.

"So Reef," Harv said, "I heard you stood tall against two big ones as well?"

"I did what I could," Bob said.

"No," Harv disagreed, "you risked your life to protect others," he gestured around the tavern, "there are probably a few people in here that wouldn't be alive if you hadn't done what you did."

Elli nodded as he prodded Monroe, "No one died on the North and Northeast points," he said, "usually we lose a couple at each point."

Bob didn't want to ask, but he had to.

"How many people died in this wave?"

"Eighteen," Harv said solemnly, "there aren't normally more than one or two huge and strong monsters per wave, but this time there were half a dozen, and that cost us."

"Fuck," Bob breathed.

"And this happens again in six months?" He asked.

"Yes," Elli said as he played with Monroe's whiskers, "but the next one won't be nearly as bad, and, although I hate to say it, the loses were mostly laborers, which might be a wakeup call."

Harv nodded with a sad expression on his face, "True, a lot of the folks who volunteered had only a single, underdeveloped combat skill."

"Still, they stood tall," Elli said, "and they will be missed."

"And we will be back on shepherding duty," Harv said wryly.

"Why is that?" Bob asked.

"Because," Elli said, "if you should fall while standing on the wall or in the Dungeon during a wave, Thidwell will have any of your children that wish it, shepherded to level six."

Harv nodded and added, "The last count was sixty-two to be shepherded, which is the highest number I can remember."

"Probably half of them haven't leveled up at all yet, so there is a chance they'll become Adventurers, instead of laborers," Harv finished.

"Thidwell has been saying for a while now that we have too many laborers and not enough Adventurers," Elli said, "and I'm afraid this wave proved him right. Another twenty Adventurers on the walls and we might not have lost as many, or maybe even none."

Bob shook his head. He had some things he wanted to talk to the two of them about, but his mind wasn't quite settled enough to have that conversation yet.

"So, I'm going to start delving the Dungeon again," he said, "and I was wondering, once I have the crystals, where I should go to buy enchanted equipment?"

"Gary will have most of what you need," Elli said.

"You're also going to want one of Austan's daylight orbs," Harv said, "level eight is a total blackout, and that is the level with the pockets of explosive gas."

Bob nodded, and then asked, "What about the 'Lighting the Path' blessing that Lesli told me about? Wouldn't that work?"

Harv shook his head and said, "Doesn't work in the Dungeon, unless you actually start worshipping Vi'Radia, and spending skill points on it."

Bob blinked and asked, "Why?"

Harv snorted and said, "That's more of Kelli question, but in short, God's will look out for you in exchange for a little worship, but delving into a Dungeon is a choice you're making to risk your well being, and if you want them to help you out down there, you'll need to show some true devotion."

"I'll save the other questions that answer raises for the next time I see Kelli," Bob said.

His stomach rumbled and he looked around, trying to spot Bailli.

"Where is Bailli anyways?" Bob asked.

"Bailli is gone," Harv said sadly.

"I'm going to miss her," Elli nodded in agreement.

"Gone?" Bob said, a weight dropping into his stomach. She'd been here the morning after the wave...

"Yep, she's done her time and she's being shepherded as of this morning," Harv said, "and with the wave and all, they haven't gotten her replacement onboard yet, so service is a little slow this morning."

Bob breathed a sigh of relief. He liked Bailli. She wasn't mean to him, she brought him food, and she liked Monroe.

He eyed the furball who was dreamily rabbit kicking the air in slow motion.

He couldn't help but smile. Anyone who didn't like Monroe was obviously a bad person.

He reached down and scooped up his cat, depositing him in the hood of his cloak.

"I think I'll skip breakfast then," Bob said, "I'm going to go clear out some wolves and bears for a couple of hours - I'll see you for dinner?"

Harv and Elli both nodded their assent, and Bob headed out of the Guild and towards the Dungeon.

He made sure to thank Austan for the blessing he'd given him and let him know he'd be on the seventh floor for two hours, then placed his token to the gate and stepped through into the Dungeon.

He took a deep breath of the cold air and listened to the howls of the wolf packs. It was time to put in the work.