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16. A Little Help
🕑 Added 2024-04-12 13:00:08 +0000 UTCGrumpy, Ike looked up. “What now?”
An old lady smiled down at him. Cara tilted her head, grinning a little. “Orin managed to recruit you for this one, huh? After ending up with Joseph’s crew…it’s like you seek out the worst jobs.”
“Ha…haha,” Ike said sarcastically.
She sat beside him. The wooden stair groaned under her weight. “I’m only joking. It’s just how it is for low-Rank hunters. We all did our fair share of suffering at the start of our careers.”
“Did you?” Ike asked. You can’t convince me that everyone’s first mission ended with killing their own party.
“You might’ve had it a little rougher than most,” Cara allowed, a merry glint in her eyes.
“No kidding,” Ike muttered.
Cara looked at him. She nodded. “How about I help you out a little?”
“How? Are you Rank 3 too?” Ike asked.
Cara smiled mysteriously. She tilted her head. “Did you know that hunters live a long, long time? The higher your Rank, the longer your life. There’re skills for long life, too, and you can always hunt the few monsters whose flesh grants longevity. But eventually, at the end of our lives, we end up living on nothing but mana. And when that mana runs out…”
Ike looked at her. Understanding flickered in his gaze. Right. That’s why they call the people in the upper city immortals, because they live for hundreds of years. Forever, by my count. I thought it was just an upper city thing, but it’s a Rank thing instead?
Ha. Typical upper city. Acting like they’re special, when it’s the System that lets them be that way.
A second later, his eyes widened. He looked at Orin, who lounged in the shade of a tree, reading a book. “Is that why—”
She lifted a finger to her lips. Lowering it, she nodded at him. “I can’t take out that mantis in the basement, but I can help. How does that sound?”
“I’ll take anything,” Ike said.
Cara smiled. “I can light up the basement with one of my skills, and once, just once, I can release a pulse of blinding light. Any more than that will cost more mana than this old lady can spare. Signal me when you want to use it. If you use it right, it can turn the tide of the battle.”
Ike nodded. He stood, stretching. “Understood.” It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing, which is what Orin’s contributing to this battle.
“If you’re lucky, it might even drop a skill,” Cara said, in a tempting voice.
“Is that more common with big monsters?” Ike asked, curious. The Salamander had dropped a skill, but none of the little salamanders had. He’d slaughtered dozens of the squirrel beasts without seeing a skill orb from them, either. It makes sense that more powerful monsters are more likely to have skill orbs, after all.
Cara nodded. “When it comes to monsters, they gain skills naturally, as they age. Mana accumulates in the bodies of animals, until they become monsters; once they become monsters, the mana keeps accumulating until it condenses into skills. Monsters that live short lives—that is, less than a hundred years, are unlikely to condense a skill orb. One out of a thousand might have one. The more powerful they get, the longer they live, the more likely they are to condense an orb. At a hundred years, it’s one out of a hundred, though the skill likely won’t be above Gold rank. At a thousand years, it’s one out of ten, and you’ll have a chance of seeing Rare or better skills. At ten thousand years or more, the monster’s guaranteed to drop a skill, and the longer it lives, the better that skill gets…even if it’s just a higher-level orb of a low rank skill.”
Ike’s eyes widened. He looked at Cara. “There aren’t many of those, I bet.”
She shrugged. “Ten-thousand year monsters? Not close to the wall, there aren’t. Though you shouldn’t get too excited. Most of the monsters have lived that long are hard for a Rank 3 to kill, let alone a Rank 1 or 2.”
“Right. Otherwise, they’d be hunted to extinction already.” A thought came to him, and he frowned.
“Stuck on something?” Cara prompted him.
“Mana condenses into a skill…does it work that way with humans, too?” Ike asked.
Cara smiled. “If you have a few hundred or thousand years to spare repeating the same action over and over, yes.”
“Oh,” Ike muttered. That’s another way to say no. He looked at her. “What if you have a skill, and repeat that over and over?”
“That’s how people condense skill orbs, yes. It’s easier than creating a skill from scratch, because activating the skill repeats the same exact action every time—you don’t have to worry about swinging your arm a little different once, and it not counting for the creation of the skill. Even so, though, it takes a long time—tens, hundreds of years, and it costs a lot of mana, so most people don’t bother. Not even for Rare skills or better. Maybe Unique skills, but then the skill-giver loses the skill, so it’s not ideal.”
“Understood,” Ike said. She didn’t mention anything like what I do to create a skill. That suggests that it really is a special part of a Unique skill. A second later, his brows furrowed. “What about if someone dies? Does it work the same as monsters?”
“If someone dies…yes, if they have skills, they can drop skill orbs. Just like with monsters, it isn’t guaranteed. And it’s evil. Don’t start hunting people,” Cara admonished him, giving him a gentle smack on the head.
It makes sense. That girl’s body…when that man stabbed her, on the mud flats… I wonder if it’s more likely to drop if the skill isn’t fully absorbed?
Self-conscious, he touched his own stomach. If people could hunt other people for skills, then he needed to keep his Unique skill as secret as he could. It was the highest rank of skill, and whatever the skill, there was only one copy of it in existence. Even if a hunter didn’t want it for themselves, it was worth—well. More money than Ike had made so far. I need to make sure I don’t display Lightning Dash. Keep it quiet.
Cara frowned at his silence. “What are you thinking over there? Better not be planning any murders.”
“I was thinking that, when Orin dies of old age in a few days, I might be able to snatch a few Rank 3 skills,” Ike said with a mischievous grin.
Cara chuckled. “A few days? That old fogey’s gonna stick around for another few decades, at least. Trust you me.”
He clapped his hands together, then nodded at Cara. The quicker we drop this subject, the better. I don’t need her suspicious over me in either direction—whether it’s fearing me as a murderer, or planning my murder. “The mantis in the basement…how old do you figure it is?”
“That thing? A thousand years and change. If it wasn’t trapped in there, it’d be a right menace to society.”
“How’d a thousand-year-old mantis end up trapped under the lodge? Unless…” Ike eyed Cara. She did say they live for a long time.
Cara chuckled. “We don’t live that long, no. My good friend Orin has a bad habit of picking up pets he doesn’t care for.”
“Ah,” Ike said. A pet? That big-ass mantis is a pet?
“I can’t put it all on Orin’s head. The thing was nine hundred and ninety years old or so when he caught it. For all we knew, it’d stay at its hundred-year size for another nine hundred years, not ten. Didn’t undergo its thousand-year evolution until it was already in the basement. It was bad timing,” Cara said, waving her hand.
“But the hundred-year and thousand-year monsters…they’re near the wall?” Ike asked.
“Oh, sure. A little hard to find, but with Orin’s book, I’m sure you can find nests of them.”
Ike nodded to himself. Compared to lugging heavy, obvious bodies across the wilds, wasn’t it easier to carry skills home? Besides, he needed skills. He couldn’t afford any decent ones with ten gold, but he could afford the bare minimum of weapons. Using his Unique skill already gave him a step over other Rank 1 fighters. Combining all of that…I’ll hunt for skills. If the skills are shit, I’ll sell them. If the skills are good…I keep them for myself!
Ike chuckled under his breath. He lifted his hand and clenched it, already imagining the orbs falling into his palm. No lugging bodies back. No worrying about bandits tracing his path back to the loot. Skill Hunting was a perfect fit for him.
“But first, let’s kill this mantis.” Ike grabbed his pole, giving it a thump to check its sturdiness.
“That’s the spirit,” Cara cheered.
He looked back at her. “Thank you, Cara.”
“Hmm? I haven’t done anything yet,” she said.
No. You already did more than anyone else did. I have no idea how monsters work, how mana functions. I’m stumbling blind in this new world. You’re the first one to take the time to explain anything to me. Instead of saying all that, Ike gave her a smile and walked off, leading the way around the back of the house to the hatch.
The mantis roared when it saw them. It lashed out with a flurry of blade strikes that battered the hatch, then lunged for them. Its head burst through, but it banged its arms on the hatch, unable to fold them enough to squeeze through. Falling back to the ground, it let out a furious screech and fluttered its wings ominously.
“Light,” Cara spoke aloud, holding her hands before her. A glowing mote materialized between her fingers, just big enough to fit in her palm. She made a gentle gesture, like wafting a dandelion seed away, and the orb floated down into the hatch.
The mantis lunged and sliced at the orb, but its long, bladed forearms cut harmlessly through the immaterial ball. It fell back, eyeing the ball with trepidation. Its wings flickered, the eye-patterns folded into their depths flashing in the fresh light.
Ike circled the hatch, getting a feel for the basement. It was larger than he expected. Deep enough that the mantis could stand upright, wide enough for it to easily maneuver. Dirt walls made a box about forty feet long in every direction, the dirt floor about twenty feet below them. Wooden beams reinforced the structure, though Ike was pretty sure the ceiling should have caved in long ago, even so. “That’s a big basement.”
“Orin dug it for the mantis. He wanted to start a breeding program. Sell pet monsters,” Cara explained.
“Pet monsters?”
“It was a trend in the overcity. Still is, quite honestly.”
Ike raised his brows. Interesting. Wonder how much that business is worth.
She sighed. “Unfortunately—or should I say fortunately? He overlooked one fundamental feature of mantis breeding. Did you know? The female mantis eats the male mantis when they mate.”
“O-oh,” Ike muttered, startled. So that’s a lady mantis down there, huh.
“He only got one egg pod out of it. Can you imagine if he hatched even more mantises? This place would be completely overrun. There’d be mantises in the outpost, mantises in the slums. The City Guard would have to get involved.” Cara shook her head, leaning back to glare around the edge of the house at Orin.
“This is one egg pod’s worth of mantises?” Ike asked, even more surprised.
“Yep. Hundreds can hatch from one pod. Most of them came out as ordinary mantises, but a few became monsters. Orin and I locked them in the rooms before they grew to breeding age.” She leaned in. “I think he was still hoping to breed them back then.”
So that’s why they were all locked in those closed-door rooms, Ike realized. He turned to Cara. “But they’re still locked in those rooms, so what happened? Did he realize that breeding monsters that can spawn hundreds of little monsters at one time was a bad idea?”
“Orin? Admit he had a bad idea?” Cara scoffed. “No. It turns out, the upper city nobles have no interest in insectoid monster pets. When Orin realized he’d gone to so much effort for nothing, he lost all interest in clearing them out…and that’s where you come into the picture.”
Ike shook his head. He snorted. “What a problem to have.”
He turned back to the mantis. It stared up at them with a wary posture. “Can you send the light toward it from behind?”
“Distract it? Good call.” Cara made a gesture, and the light ball swooped forward.
The mantis whirled. It swiped at the light again, its claws flashing.
The second it turned its back to the hatch, Ike sprinted forward. Grabbing the pole in both hands, he leaped into the hatch and drove the pole down toward the mantis’ head.
The mantis whirled. With a ferocious screech, it swiped at him, its claws cutting through the air.
Ike’s eyes widened. Shit, it’s fast! He threw the pole out to parry the claws instead.
Schink! The claws sliced through the pole and kept going. They cut shallow slashes in Ike’s stomach.
Ike dropped to the ground, holding half a pole, his stomach smarting and his shirt slowly soaking with warm blood. The mantis closed in. Its claws blurred toward him.
Lightning Dash! Ike sprinted away, lightning arcing after his heels.
The mantis’ claws struck dirt and stuck there, but only for a second. It yanked its claws free and turned, chasing after Ike. Its feet pounded against the dirt. Little puffs of dust leaped up behind it.
Ike drew the axe, hefting the pole in his other hand. The mantis dashed at him, moving in a straight line.
He threw the remaining half of the pole. “Take this!”
It bonked off the mantis’ head. The enormous beast didn’t so much as flinch. It loomed over him and lifted its claws again.
Shit. Ike sprinted off. The mantis’ slash struck nothing.
It darted after him. Its wings flared, and it surged even faster than before. Ike fled, only to find himself in a corner. It screeched to a halt, blocking him in. The mantis’ claws loomed over him.
Ike backed away, putting his back to one of the wooden supports. He gazed up at it, still defiant. “Give it your worst.”
The mantis swung.
