Successor of kukulkan st.., p.30
Successor of Kukulkan: Stormcaller, page 30
Though much less effectively than the Copper tiered Wind Manipulation, TJ sliced through the hand inch by inch. He sent little blades of air to separate the thumb from the rest of the hand, and about 10 minutes later, he had a thumb-sized and shaped blade. With a glance at his MP, TJ saw that he hadn’t spent nearly as much as he had suspected he would have. He’d been using the MP intensive Skill on and off for nearly that full 10 minutes, and he was only right around the halfway point of his total MP.
“Why didn’t I use much MP?” He idly asked the System.
The higher tier of Divinity a Skill, the greater the drain on whatever resource the Skill requires. Thus, when using the Copper (I) tiered Wind Manipulation, the MP drain is greatly heightened compared to the drain of using Dirt tiered Wind Manipulation.
That made sense, and TJ was almost embarrassed he’d never thought of it. Of course a more powerful Skill would demand a greater expense of resources. It was harder to lift a heavier weight, after all, so it made sense that elevating the tier of his Skill would be more intensive. The long term thought of what the drain on his MP would be at the higher levels of Divinity, when his Divine Transformation would evolve Wind Manipulation to two tiers above his current Divinity, staggered him.
“What’re you so focused on?” Stanton’s voice interrupted TJ from his musing.
“Just thinking about Skills and how hard it’ll be to keep up with them.”
Stanton grunted his agreement.
“Have you thought about what the higher tiers of divinity and Skills will do?”
“Yeah. I’ve got a Copper Skill now, so I get it.”
“Wait, you do?” TJ felt his jaw drop.
“Yeah. You think that upgrading my bow to a gun was something small? It costs me 10 MP per bullet. Does that seem like a reasonable cost for a Skill that I depend on?”
TJ shrugged.
“Course not. I’m betting your Wind whatever is Copper rank too? It’s too damn powerful not to be.”
“Only when I’m using Divine Transformation.”
Stanton nodded. “Far as I see, someone’s gotta pay something to get that kinda power. I can only store so many bullets and it’s hard for me to prepare them. You can only really use the Skill like you do when you’re using another. Makes sense to me. Other people can just always use theirs. We get powerful Skills that we can’t use all the time.”
“I guess.” TJ answered as he looked down at the thumb he’d cut free from the wendigo’s body. He needed a knife, and this seemed like it would be his best bet, but he didn’t want to carry a literal thumb in his pocket as a grisly reminder of this monster he’d killed. Looking at the skull that’d been set aside in favor of extracting the “blade”, TJ remembered something else from his youth as a Boy Scout–a knife made from scrap rotary saw blades and an antler. With a pursing of his lips, TJ quickly made his decision.
“You see a big rock near here? Or do I need to go find one?”
Stanton cocked an eyebrow in confusion, but just a moment later, he looked down at the wendigo corpse and up at TJ.
“Round the back, there’s a couple boulders that might do what you’re looking for.”
Though disgusted with the thought, TJ had made his decision and hauled the body around the corner of the house, where he could continue his macabre work.
Wind Manipulation, blunt force trauma, and more of both eventually left TJ with two curling horns and the shattered remains of the wendigo’s skull. As TJ breathed deeply to recover himself, he wiped a hand across his sweaty brow. Dirt, bone dust, and who knew what else coated his hand, a testament to days spent without any real option to clean himself. In his mind, the thuds of bone repeatedly striking against rock echoed, and TJ fought to clear his mind of it. Though the act had been horrifying to say the least, the Appraisal of his materials wiped any regret from his mind.
Wendigo Horn: The remains of one of the horns of a wendigo. Though most wendigos do not use their horns in battle and they remain primarily as a decorative accessory, the horn remains one of the most valuable parts of the wendigo. This horn can be used as a material in creating equipment, tinctures, and more. In addition, equipment created using this horn may gain additional attributes upon completion. All crafting attempted utilizing this ingredient will be heightened in difficulty due to its origin as part of an Elite monster. All crafting products completed utilizing this ingredient will be enhanced in quality due to its origin as part of an Elite monster.
The horns both hadn’t been damaged in his rough treatment of them, though they’d both hit against the stone multiple times. The shards of remaining bone from the skull came back merely as Bone Shards. Then, seeing that there was insufficient time left for him to complete the creation of this newly ideated knife, TJ evaluated the wendigo’s hand. It came back merely as an Amputated Hand while the thumb was more specific.
Wendigo Claw: The remains of one of the claws of a wendigo. All wendigos are born with two innate weapons: their bodies and their frost. Their claws serve as the apex of both. The claws are supernaturally hard and sharp, resistant to damage, and are an effective conduit of divine manifestations, such as the wendigo’s frost. This claw can be used as a material in creating equipment, tinctures, and more. In addition, equipment created using this claw may gain additional attributes upon completion. All crafting attempted utilizing this ingredient will be heightened in difficulty due to its origin as part of an Elite monster. All crafting products completed utilizing this ingredient will be enhanced in quality due to its origin as part of an Elite monster.
TJ looked at the multiple materials laid out before him and could almost feel his Occupation growing in level already. The mere acts of cutting off the single finger and extracting the horns from the skull had given him not insignificant experience that nearly brought him to the cusp of the next level of Savage. Though he didn’t like how it’d look when others saw him making something with an almost human finger, the wendigo had already shown him just how vulnerable he still was. Every level was more HP, Toughness, and everything else that would keep him alive. Public perception wouldn’t change that. His decision made, TJ grabbed the entire hand, both horns, and—after activating Divine Transformation and lopping off the second, more damaged hand—made his way back to the front of the house.
Stanton stood there, both hands in his pockets, his breath misting in the chilly morning. After glancing at TJ and the contents of his hands, he sighed.
“You gonna put those in a bag? Fingers at the breakfast table are a bad look. Especially since a lot of people here already think you’re a crazy.”
TJ reached in the door, where just beside the entrance sat a mostly empty backpack. He carelessly dumped the contents to the side before tossing in the horns and hands and a prepared gut, just in case. When Stanton opened his mouth to complain, TJ raised his hands. “I’ll clean it up later, just getting moving for now.”
The grumbling old man muttered something about disrespectful little shits under his breath while TJ chuckled and jogged onward towards breakfast. His Primitive Craftsmanship reminded him that he’d need something to bind the blade of whatever knife he made into the hilt, so he pulled the thumb out of his pocket and cut a couple sections free from a pine tree he walked past where the sap had oozed free and crystallized. Even frozen and solidified, there was a certain amount of stickiness the sap carried, and TJ hoped it would be enough to hold this blade together.
Then, his materials gathered and in his backpack, TJ and Stanton made their way to the firehouse. The smell of fatty meat frying made TJ’s mouth water as they walked forward, though he couldn’t quite place the smell. It was almost like bacon, but not quite the same–the simple solution struck him. As they walked into the wide open garage, a table veritably filled with all cuts of javelina was sprawled before them. There wasn’t any processing possible into sausage or anything like that, but slabs of steak, bunches of bacon, and piles of pig awaited him. Some hash browns were there to give some semblance of a balance to the meal, but it was obvious that the fresh, unprocessed meat would go bad before too long and the kitchen knew it.
Though he wondered if his stomach would complain about the nutritional imbalance, TJ piled his plate high and quickly threw himself into devouring the meal. At least in that moment, he merely enjoyed the feeling of being full while missing a cup of coffee, regardless of its quality. Once he finished his meal and Penny swept up his plate with her usual insistence, there was still plenty of time left before Laura’s planned address. Thus, TJ was sat in a corner, idly whittling away at one of the horns with the thumb knife when Laura’s voice cut through the sounds of the crowd he hadn’t realized had grown around him.
“Thank you for staying, even if you’ve finished your meal. It’s now the fifth day of this, and we need to talk.”
Chapter forty-six
“We need to talk.”
Regardless of how old he’d gotten, those words still sent a shiver down TJ’s spine, and he could see in Laura’s face that it was the intended effect. The quietly chatting populace went silent, an air of tension sweeping over the 178 people in the room. Laura continued to sweep her gaze over everyone, locking eyes with whoever allowed it.
“108.” She said to break her silence, letting it puzzle everyone who heard her. “108 of you are level 1. 56 are level 2. That means that less than 15 people in this town are level 3 or higher. Less than ten percent. You might think that we’ll be fine, because that's about the same as the United States military, counting supporting personnel. Unfortunately, we are not the military, and we are in far greater danger than we used to be. The military isn’t coming, at least any time soon, and we have a deadline to survive.
“Who knows what the requirements for this Tutorial are?” Laura asked, eyes roaming across the uncomfortable crowd. Somewhat unsurprisingly, Granny Penny raised her hand with a hefty serving of pep. Laura pointed at the elderly woman and she spoke in a warbling tone, though her voice was clear.
“Survive to the end of two weeks. Protect the store. Kill the big guy.”
“That’s close enough.” Laura answered. “There is, however, one part that I wish to clarify and to emphasize. The space surrounding the general store will continue to be reduced until it is nothing.” The Bureaucrat let the fear begin to set its claws in the masses at her words. Whispered worries grew in intensity until Laura raised both hands and hushed them.
“I know you hate to hear this, but we are all in clear and present danger. The few securities we retain are diminishing, and eventually, they will all be taken from us. The day of reckoning is coming. You can see what time it will be if you ask your System.”
TJ couldn’t help himself and asked how long until the end of the first part of the Tutorial.
Time remaining until the end of part 1 of Tutorial 107.48.891: 237:52:36.
Just under ten days, then. As he’d already known, given that only four full days had passed since Integration, but even so, the time remaining seemed like so much, and so little all at once. Laura’s continued speaking tore him from his musing.
“There are less than ten days until there will be nowhere safe that we do not reinforce and protect ourselves. Beasts as mundane as coyotes and as terrifying as monsters from the dark will come, and if you are weak, they will kill you. You need to protect yourselves, because I won’t be able to. Our hunters won’t be able to. Only you can. You can only truly depend on yourself.”
A man’s voice TJ didn’t recognize called out, “Why won’t the strong people protect us!”
It was more of a raging scream than a question, but Laura was ready for it anyways. “Because they can’t. TJ, would you stand up?”
Hesitant, TJ stood tall while Laura gestured to him. “Most of you have at least heard of our newest additions to the town. TJ can transform into a massive snake, and has spent most of these past four days fighting for his life. As such, your levels are…?”
She trailed off, allowing TJ to answer for himself.
“Yeah, Neophyte 8, Savage 6. I’m sure I can hit 7 before lunch.”
A burst of whispers exploded at his declaration, and TJ heard quite a few worried conversations about his “Savage” Occupation and what that must mean that he was. Laura nodded in thanks and TJ sat back down.
“There isn’t anyone else in this town that can begin to measure up to his levels, but that just raises the question again, why doesn’t he just protect us? He seems driven to grow stronger, so he can just do the difficult part. Why won’t he just bleed for us so we can stay hidden behind our doors, praying that someone else will take the beating for us? Isn’t he selfish?” Though she seemed to be chastising TJ with her words, it was obvious what her point was.
“No, he isn’t selfish. In preparation for today, he was willing to go out into the night all alone last night, making sure that the surroundings were safe for you and me. When he left, he met the first true monster any of us have seen. It nearly killed him, and it was only level 5. There will be more of them, so can TJ kill another? Or two? Or five? No, he can’t. He’d simply be killed in vain, and that would only be if he was willing to die for you. TJ isn’t willing to sacrifice himself for you.”
Angry murmurs and glances responded to her latest statement, and TJ felt his blood surge at the woman he’d thought he trusted put him on display to be torn apart by the judgment of so many people. Then, Laura’s voice cut through the simmering rage.
“Why the hell would he?”
The grumbling went silent as she asked again, “Why the hell would he sacrifice himself for you? What have any of you done for him? What have any of you even said to him since he came to town a day and a half ago with his dying friend across his shoulders? Maybe good morning, or maybe whispered mutterings behind closed doors about how he’s dangerous and not to be trusted. He hasn’t made you any promises to be a knight in shining armor for you, and why would he? He’s been ignored and nearly mistreated by the vast majority of you, and you expect him to bleed for you?
“Though the hunters are treated with more respect than TJ is, we all still call them ‘adrenaline junkies’, ‘foolish’, and just plain crazy because they’re willing to live in the world we’ve found ourselves. Why would these young people, the ones who will survive in this hell, get themselves killed for people who refuse to understand that the days of letting others work for us are long gone?”
Laura’s impassioned rant rang off the concrete walls surrounding them, and at least half of the people there hung their heads in shame, though others’ jaws still stuck out in stubborn anger. The experienced public speaker only let the silence hang long enough to let her words sink in.
“No longer can we merely depend on the few selfless. We can’t throw our young and strong at the problem and hope that they’ll solve it for us. They are neither able nor willing. We need to survive and protect the general store, and we need to do it ourselves. Things will change.
“From today, everyone will receive half rations if they are unwilling to go on at least one expedition a day. During that expedition, there must be at least as many of our enemies killed as there number in the group. I don’t care if you’re a Disciple and a Bureaucrat or a Zealot and a Hunter, you need to be involved with the killing. This is our world now, and just like the rest of you, I need to be involved on the front lines.
“Now, questions?”
A barrage of near-insults exploded from the more surly looking people in the group, and they slowly emboldened those who’d waffled on the edge of compliance. Laura answered each with a balance of logic and emotion, but the angry people refused to be placated. As his own rage boiled to the forefront of his mind, TJ stood and shouted, drowning out every other voice.
“Shut the hell up!” His shout shattered the illusion of civilization in the room, and many people cowered before the inhumanly loud voice.
“Laura’s willing to talk to you right now. Frankly, I’m not fucking willing to listen to your horseshit. You listen to me.
“My name is TJ. My son, Junior, will be three years old on the day this first part of the Tutorial ends. I’m going to have to miss it because I’m here with you. I don’t know how many of his birthdays I’m going to have to miss because of this mess, and I hate the System for doing this to us. You need to get ready and work for yourselves, and if not you, then someone else you care about. If you can’t manage that, I don’t give two shits about anyone who’s gonna sit in their room pouting like a toddler because you had to do something for yourself. If you can’t put on your big boy pants and get out there, then I’d say let you starve. Laura’s nice enough to still feed you, but frankly, you’re a waste of space if you’re not willing to do anything to save yourself. You’ve been given a lifejacket, and you’re saying that buckling the stupid thing is too hard.”
Then, too disgusted to look the cowards in the face, TJ stormed out. He didn’t go too far, since he’d promised he’d escort one of the groups on their inaugural hunt, but he didn’t want to hear any more ‘mitching and boning,’ as his dad used to say. Remembering his parents, and his Nana, for that matter, TJ couldn’t help but have his piss-poor mood elevated with a wry smile.
“Sorry Nana, I should use my smart words, not stupid curses.”
His apology given, TJ sat under a tree and pulled the horn and thumb out. Though the thumb remained grotesque and off-putting, it also remained his best bet at getting a real knife that worked in tandem with Savage, so he needed to take the time to get the thing up to snuff. His grandpa had always harped on him about doing things right and doing it right the first time. Since this knife would be immensely important to him moving forward, TJ finished boring the hole to be just larger than the entire thumb in every dimension, except for half of the last joint. Then, the “blade’s” housing complete, TJ carefully slotted it into its new handle with no small amount of effort.
