39 – Purpose

  “Andy.” The soft whisper penetrated Andy’s fitful sleep, and he opened his eyes to the dim light of a flickering candle. Lucy’s face was inches from his. “Are you awake?”

  He inhaled through his nose, arching his back in a stretch, as he murmured, “Mmph, yeah.”

  “Bella tapped on the door a minute ago. She said we should come down soon so she and the others can get some rest.” She paused to let the words register. “You should look at your class refinement thing first, though.”

  Suddenly, Andy was less groggy, and he pushed himself up on his elbow. “Did you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And?” He wanted to hear about her experience before he got too distracted by his own.

  “It was interesting.” She yawned, turned onto her back, and then continued speaking with her eyes closed. “I got to pick a style of hunting to focus on. Of course, I chose the ‘ranged’ option. I also got to choose a boost for my favored-enemy attacks. Basically, my arrows will apply some sort of debilitating effect that will last for up to a minute. Hmm, what else? Oh! I got to pick between a focus on stealthiness or trickery. Thinking of you, I chose stealthiness, but nothing seemed to happen. Not sure how it will affect things long-term.”

  Andy yawned again, then pushed himself to a sitting position, leaning against the bed’s rickety headrest. “Interesting, anyway.”

  “Now you.”

  “Right.” Andy called up his status sheet and saw that his “active class” was blinking, so he focused on it.

  ***Congratulations! Your Brimstone Stalker class has reached a milestone level. A class refinement is available. Begin? Yes/No.***

  “Yes,” Andy muttered.

  ***Refinement Option One. Choose between the following: Fire or Shadow.***

  “Huh,” Andy glanced at Lucy. “Doesn’t seem like my process is as clear as yours.” When she arched an eyebrow, he read the message to her.

  “Maybe it’s asking what kind of magic you want to focus on.”

  “Yeah, probably.” Andy let his mind run down imaginary avenues of magical advancement. Fire seemed like it would open up more spells like Brimstone Breath. Shadow, he figured, might bring him back toward his old Umbral Reaper abilities. “I don’t think this will affect the abilities I already have, right?”

  “Didn’t seem to for me…” Lucy shrugged. “Sorry, but it seems different, so who knows?”

  Andy already felt like his stealth game was pretty damn good, what with his Cloak of Shifting Smoke. Brimstone Breath had been invaluable against the hordes of vermin, but it was a lot less effective against larger, more powerful foes. With a mental shrug, he said, “Fire.”

  ***Refinement Option Two. Choose between the following: the path of the Cindercat or that of the Duskwyrm.***

  “What the hell?” Andy groaned. “Is the System messing with me?”

  Lucy giggled as she sat up beside him, hugging her knees to her chest. “What?”

  “It’s telling me to pick between a cindercat or a duskwyrm. Ever heard of those?” He snorted an exasperated laugh.

  “A cat or a worm?”

  “Not worm, but wyrm.” Andy tried to emphasize the “y” sound. “I think in fantasy lore they’re related to dragons.”

  “Well…” Lucy smiled and leaned her head against his shoulder. “Fantasy seems all too real these days.”

  Andy rubbed his chin. Thinking aloud, he said, “If a cindercat is like cats on Earth, they hunt alone and are sneaky, right?” Lucy made an affirmative murmur. “Unfortunately, I have no idea how wyrms hunt or behave.”

  “There are more clues, though.” Lucy straightened, looking at him with bright eyes. “Cinder versus dusk.”

  “Ah, shit. More fire or shadow? Is this the same choice as the first one?”

  Lucy shrugged. “I bet there’s more to it. Like you said, cats fight alone. Maybe duskwyrms fight as a pack.”

  “Could be a million things, I guess. Cats are quick and agile; maybe duskwyrms are stronger and have armor—”

  “Maybe cindercats aren’t anything like cats on Earth.”

  “In other words,” Andy said with a resigned chuckle, “I’m just gonna have to make a blind choice… or wait and level a different class, hoping that I get some information about these exotic creatures.”

  “I wouldn’t—”

  “I’m not.” Andy nudged her with his elbow, then said, “I choose duskwyrm.” It was a little impulsive, but he picked it for the “dusk” prefix; he’d already chosen fire once.

  ***Congratulations! Your Brimstone Stalker class has gone through its first refinement! As a result, some of your notable class abilities have new morphs. Apply Improvement Points to unlock them. Moreover, as you gain levels, new abilities befitting your refinement will become available. All banked experience for this class has been applied… Congratulations! You’ve gained two levels in your Brimstone Stalker class, earning more mana and an Improvement Point.***

  Even as he read the message, Andy felt a wave of vertigo as tingles rushed through his skull. Lucy grabbed his shoulder to steady him. “You okay?”

  The dizziness faded almost immediately, so Andy nodded. “Yeah. I guess that was it. Just those two questions.” Andy shrugged, scooting toward the edge of the bed. “At least I got two levels.”

  “Me too!”

  Andy smiled. “Cool.” He tugged on his shoes and, while Lucy did the same, picked up his armored coat and spear. “Ready?”

  “Yeah.” She stood and grabbed her bow. “I’m sure the others are ready for some rest, too.”

  Downstairs, they found that things had gotten very quiet in the common room. The fire was down to embers, and only Omar and the big laukin named Gord were still present. When Andy and Lucy appeared, Omar stood and walked over, speaking in a hushed voice, “Bella and Bea are in the kitchen. There’s some stew set aside for you.” He shrugged. “Seemed to taste fine. They said it was lamb meat.”

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Andy handed him the room key. “Third door on the left.”

  “Thanks. Wake me up if anything happens.” With that, he stomped up the steps, clearly exhausted.

  Gord nodded to them from his seat by the fire, and Andy saw he was clutching one of the curved iron swords they’d looted from the blitz-rats. The rest of the weapons and shields were still stacked on a table. Aside from the boarded-up windows and door, and the pile of broken furniture by the fire, there weren’t many remnants of the battle. Most of the bloodstains left behind by the dead vermin were gone—presumably scrubbed away.

  “Surprised the rats haven’t attacked,” Lucy said as they walked to the kitchen door. “I mean, all the corpses out there in the square must have gotten some attention.”

  “Yeah, but I mean, we’re dealing with rat-people, so who knows.”

  In the kitchen, a pot of stew that smelled rich and meaty burbled on the coal-fired stove. A single candle burned on the countertop near Bea and Bella, who sat talking quietly. All the laukin were gone. “Quiet in here,” Andy said by way of greeting.

  Bella yawned, nodding. “Just recently. Some of them were down here cleaning until just a few minutes ago, and Bea was busy with the wounded for a couple of hours.” She nodded toward the stove. “Eat some of that. It’s really good.”

  “Don’t you think it’s strange?” Lucy asked as the other two women stood. “I mean, that they’re all able to sleep? That there aren’t rats trying to break down the door? That everyone is fine with cooking delicious-smelling stew?”

  Bea shrugged. “I think so, yes, but you missed some of it. There was a lot of arguing about who should be allowed to go out and who was in charge. I get the feeling this isn’t the first time this city has been attacked by the vermin, either. They seem…familiar with the situation, I suppose.”

  Bella added, “Besides, we only hear what Jilly translates for us.”

  “True.” Lucy walked over to the stove and lifted the pot’s lid. “Oh my gosh, this smells good.”

  “Told you. I’m going to sleep.” Bella picked up her satchel, cradling it against her chest as she opened the drawer by the door, fishing out another room key. “Come on, Mom.”

  Bea groaned, following her through the door. “I told you to stop calling me that, you brat.”

  Andy sat in Bea’s vacated seat, smiling at their interaction. “Bella cracks me up.”

  “She’s funny, for sure,” Lucy replied. “You want me to dish some up for you?”

  “Hell, yes.” At the thought, Andy jumped up and poked his head into the common room, sighing with relief when he saw that all their backpacks were still stacked on the bar top. “Totally forgot about our gear,” he remarked when he returned to his seat.

  Lucy walked over, a wooden bowl in each hand filled with steaming chunks of meat and veggies. As she set them down and sat beside Andy, she said, “Don’t you sometimes feel like nothing’s real anymore?”

  Andy, stirring his stew with a carved wooden spoon, looked at her sideways. “Like, how do you mean?”

  “Andy, we’re in a medieval inn with a bunch of animal people eating stew. There are hordes of rat-people out in the city, and we’re not even on Earth. You and me? We’re doing magic and gaining levels. It’s all too much sometimes.”

  Andy took a bite, and though the meat was a little gamey, the spices and broth lit up his tastebuds, and he swallowed eagerly. He thought about what Lucy had said, and he had to agree that things didn’t seem real sometimes. He tried to put his thoughts into words. “I mean, if you think about everything abstractly, yeah, it all seems crazy. If you take each moment as it comes, though, it’s pretty damn real.” He held up his spoon. “This stew.” He nudged her gently with his elbow. “You.” He shrugged with a grin. “Getting stabbed, bitten, clawed—it’s all very damn real.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’m not trying to say we’re dreaming or anything. I guess you can chalk everything up to magic—the System included.” She took a bite, and her eyes widened as she chewed. “It’s good!”

  Andy smiled, and they ate together in silence for a while. When they were done, he propped the kitchen door open so they could sit in the common room and still hear if anything tried to break in through the now-barricaded rear door. Gord was dozing in his chair, snoring softly, so Andy and Lucy sat at one of the few remaining tables on the other side of the room.

  “Are you still hoarding Improvement Points?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “Kind of. I’m getting them slower in my main class now, but I’m sitting on four.”

  Lucy nodded. “I’m running into caps on my attributes, but my bow-based skills are getting up there. Have you gotten your spear past that first cap yet?”

  Andy shook his head. “I’m close, though. Got a message for it a few times while fighting the rats.” He looked at his status sheet, then added, “Honestly, I’d spend some of these four points on my class abilities, but I’m hoping I’ll break through while we’re in here.”

  “You seem to be doing fine in this dungeon. But…”

  When she trailed off, Andy nudged her. “What?”

  “Well, aren’t you curious about what your refinement did? You could spend some of your points.”

  Andy chuckled, nodding. “Yeah, I guess I am.” When she laid her head on her arms and just sort of watched him, he realized she was going to wait to see what happened. The truth was that Andy had been planning to improve his Brimstone Breath anyway—it was at three, and one more point might lead to a morph. Now that he’d refined his class, though, he hoped the morph would be more potent. With a shrug, he opened his status page and applied an Improvement Point to the ability.

  ***Brimstone Breath has morphed into Cinderstorm Blast. Flame lurks within the smoke’s dark cowl, and the air ignites with smoldering wrath.***

  Grinning stupidly, Andy hastily looked at the new spell’s description:

  Cinderstorm Blast – Bound: By expending a large amount of mana, you can project a cone of fiery air and caustic smoke from your lungs. This attack scorches everything in front of you—igniting flammable materials, burning flesh, and heating metal enough to injure those who touch it. Mana cost: 150.

  “Your smile says it was worth it.”

  Andy looked at Lucy, brushing the System information aside. “Yeah, I think so. Sounds like my fiery breath attack just got a boost.”

  “Gonna do any more?”

  Andy looked at his skill list; as far as his Brimstone Stalker class abilities went, he only had Smoke Cloud and Smoke Drift that hadn’t been morphed. Smoke Drift was only at rank one, though, which meant he’d need to spend all of his points to find out how it would morph. Smoke Cloud, however, was primed at rank three. Looking up the list, something else caught his eye. His Smokescribe ability was still at rank one. After seeing how abilities seemed to be interlinked, he wondered if he were being foolish by not improving that one. It was a moot point at that moment, anyway; he wasn’t going to dump all of his Improvement Points into it—not while he was in the middle of a dungeon.

  “Guess I’ll try one more,” he muttered, putting a point into Smoke Cloud. To his dismay, nothing happened other than the numeral 3 shifting to a 4. “No morph.” Andy scowled, looking at the “2” beside “Improvement Points.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Nah, but I bet it’ll last longer.” Lucy looked at him quizzically, and he added, “Um, I improved my Smoke Cloud.” He shrugged. “Figure I’m done for now—want to save my last two points in case I break through the cap on Spears.”

  Lucy nodded, sitting up. She yawned as she pointed toward the table piled high with weapons and shields. “I wish they had some good knives or small swords in there. I hate how nervous I feel when the rats get past you guys and start closing on me and Bea.”

  “Yeah, I left my good dagger with Lydia—probably not too smart considering we were heading into a dungeon.” Andy stood and walked over to the weapons. He looked over at Lucy. “Did you look?”

  “Only a glance. Why?”

  “There are knives in here.” Andy shifted some shields aside to reveal several long, black-metal knives. They were crude but vicious-looking weapons. One of them had a jagged indentation on the back of the tip that reminded him of a fishing hook. As Lucy padded over to join him, he held it up, chuckling. “I wouldn’t use this. I think it would get stuck in anything you stabbed.”

  “Oh my gosh. That thing’s nasty.” She reached for a smaller one with a relatively simple design—single-bladed with a slight curve. It was long for a knife—about nine inches—but then, the blitz-rats were pretty big creatures. As she turned it this way and that, giving it a good once-over, Andy picked up the only other similarly simple blade. It was double-edged and straight. The blade was chipped, but at least it didn’t look like a middle schooler’s idea of a “cool” dagger.

  “You know,” he said, “we’ve got a few hours before dawn, right? I might as well do some enchanting. I’ll start with these knives and the arrows we collected earlier.” He nodded to the pile of shields and other crude weapons. “I’ll enchant all this stuff—good glyph practice and maybe it’ll help if the inn gets attacked.”

  Lucy smiled. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll sort them.”

  Andy sat down at the empty table again and set the dagger before him. He flexed his fingers—the mana was in there; he could feel it tingling beneath the surface. Like Lucy had said, things almost didn’t feel real. This world, these enemies, the new power buzzing under his skin—it was all strange. Even so, as Lucy hummed softly, sorting through the weapons, he realized he liked this new reality. He was tired and sore, and he didn’t know what crazy thing would happen next—but he wasn’t alone, and he felt like he had purpose. To him, that made all the difference.