Chapter 188: Don’t look at me like that

Chapter 188: Don’t look at me like that

“Ready to go?” he said as if nothing happened as he came towards the table.

Rosa looked back at him and smiled, and he felt some tension drain away.

“I actually need, like, days, to absorb all this,” she said, tossing a hand with her usual expressiveness. Then she stood up and took Mason’s arms and beamed. “But I can make potions! Like actual heal injuries with magic potions! Isn’t that amazing?”

Mason smiled and pulled her in for a hug.

“Yes, yes it is. I told you it was the right class. At least now I have a reason to keep you around.” He winked, and Rosa spared a glance at Becky with the usual jealousy. She lowered her voice.

“I missed my turn, didn’t I?”

Mason shrugged helplessly before the Mexican came closer and whispered in his ear. “I need to stay here awhile. When you come and get me, come alone.”

“We headin’ out then?” Becky said from behind him, obviously hoping to change the subject.

“Apparently yes, just not Rosa,” Mason said. “But you can go back to Nassau.” He frowned. “I don’t really like you going alone.”

Becky rolled her big, green eyes. “I’m just fine, thank you. I don’t need you protectin’ me, y’know. In fact I’m usually the one...”

“I can take her, druid,” Calypsa said with her hands buried in Streak’s fur, then she looked up and smiled. “It would be the least I could do for your gifts.”

“There you go, then,” Mason said before Becky could respond, then gave her a slap on the ass as he walked towards the edge of the tree. “If you’ve had enough spoiling, Streak, we have a giant to hunt.”

The wolf gave him a side eye but didn’t move, tongue out as the nymphs scratched his neck and ears. Mason whistled, and the wolf jerked like a soldier who’d heard an order, then gave a whiny growl as he padded over.

Thea stood with a frown, waiting until Mason met her eyes. “Be careful, druid. I’d recommend you not face this creature on your own. But then you do have a way of surprising me.”

“Ah shit.” He scooped handfuls of dirt and managed to put it out, clearing his throat as he felt a little judgment from the slightly burnt tree.

He tried not to think about how long ago he could have been using them. Hadn’t he upgraded Endless Quiver a few levels back? He just hadn’t bloody checked!

But at least he knew now. The upgrade to ‘Tier 2’ had changed things for sure. He tried Trapmaking next, but it didn’t seem wildly different. He expected he had to upgrade it specifically as he had his Claws to have a bigger impact.

His stats were increasing, his defensive and adaptive powers were getting obscene. But his offense was suffering. Even his prize bow hadn’t been keeping up with his strength, the max draw made for a normal man. His goblin bow was like a toy.

It could deliver his special arrows and worked on unarmored flesh at poor range, but that’s about it.

His Claws were much better, and the flexibility was as important as he’d expected. But there was just nothing like the effective killing power of a ranged weapon, especially a bow that produced its own arrows.

Mason decided he would have to start collecting javelins he could throw with more weight and at full strength. But he didn’t see any option with Endless Quiver there. The bow was much faster, obviously, but sometimes you just needed a big piercing spike to throw. Probably against a rock giant...

But there wasn’t much he could do before the fight. He kept going, kept looking, as night passed and day came again. He asked the trees and some of the larger ones kept directing him south or east.

He finally decided to rest and eat a little, then got halfway through building a fire before cursing and using a fire arrow. He wasn’t cold, but staring into a fire helped him think.

And when he started staring at the acorn in his hand, he knew why he’d really started it. He needed more power, and he needed it now. Making an artifact sounded great, but he didn’t know anyone who could remotely do that. The craftsmen of Nassau struggled to make basic items, and he had no idea how to get them leveling faster.

He boiled water in the single can he carried in his pocket, then dropped in the acorn until the water sizzled and turned green.

“Come here, boy.” The wolf smelled it and made a disinterested sound. “I don’t care if it smells bad,” Mason said. “We’re drinking it.” He drank his half, feeling just fine as he helped (forced) the wolf to lap up the rest.

But a minute later, it started to burn. He remembered the pool of wisdom and the crone and winced.

“I’m detecting a theme here,” he sighed as Streak started whining. “Ah yeah, that’s bad.” He groaned and sat as he felt himself sweating. “Yep. Not good.” He curled up and groaned at the agony in his gut, and somewhere in the trees he could have sworn he heard the crone laugh.