Magicraft master a mass.., p.14
MagiCraft Master: A Mass Isekai LitRPG, page 14
As Freya was munching on a bright yellow fruit resembling a pear, she saw the agents stir up, their new shields hoisted.
“Somebody’s coming!” one of them announced to the camp.
Through the woods appeared three familiar faces.
“Logan!” Freya got up, a wide smile on her face. That smile waned at record speed. “Why are you carrying that bitch?!”
CHAPTER 26
Logan watched Freya stomp toward him with fists clenched. She started yammering at him for carrying Kat home, but he wasn’t in the mood right now. He put Kat down carefully. The girl whimpered half-awake and clutched at his satchel. He pried her fingers off gently.
“Frey, get Dr. Rosenberg.”
Freya was about to say something more, but Logan snapped at her. “Now!”
She opened and closed her mouth like a fish, took another look at Kat, and gave him a sober nod. Logan sighed in relief.
The elderly [Healer] half ran, half hobbled to where Kat lay. Logan gave him an [E-Grade Numa crystal, 100%], one of many.
“Use this. I’ll give you another if you need.”
The old doctor didn’t ask what had happened or what was wrong with Kat. He told them to give him space and immediately hunched over the young girl’s body, checking her pulse and pupils and whatnot.
After a minute, he turned to Logan. “Young M— Logan. What bit her?”
“A beetle-monster. One of those blue and black things. Her thigh.”
Dr. Rosenberg ripped open her jeans’ torn-up thigh and revealed a beetle-horn slash and four puncture wounds on her leg. He inspected the damage and pressed on the flesh, eliciting a groan from Kat. Then he gave it a sniff.
“They aren’t venomous,” the [Healer] said.
“The other thigh,” Logan said sourly. Freya came over and kissed Logan’s shoulder. He nudged her head.
“Happy to see you again,” he said.
“Likewise,” Freya murmured. “What happened?”
“I’ll … Tell you later.”
The other jeans leg was also ripped but it hadn’t happened in the battle. It had three of those manufactured clean vertical cuts that was meant to make it look cooler. Logan always thought they looked dumb as hell. Who’d spend a hundred bucks to buy ripped clothes? Idiots, that’s who.
Between one of those cuts, however, Kat had clearly been burned. It wasn’t much larger than a cigarette butt, but the skin around it was angry red in inflammation. Logan knew exactly what had caused that. His ears were burning. One phrase for it would be “paralyzing, corrosive death sludge” (patent pending). Another would be “irresponsibility.”
“Use the crystal!” Logan urged the doctor, who was clearly weighing his options.
Dr. Rosenberg raised an eyebrow moderately. “How?”
“Tell it you want to heal her from the toxin, and you want to repair tissue or whatever.”
The good doctor did just that. The crystal clearly yielded some energy, and the red swollen skin around the burn got ever so slightly better.
“Oh,” Dr. Rosenberg said. “I leveled up! That’s … interesting. But it says the level requirement is not met.”
“What level are you?” Logan snapped urgently. He had seen Kat’s state weakening by the hour. He’d have thought it would have gotten better overnight in a nice cool place to sleep, but it had been the opposite.
“One,” Rosenberg said. “Well, 2 now in [Medicine]. I also have some of these … attribute points, mostly in Insight.
Logan groaned in frustration. He snapped his fingers at Balmer, who was standing there, particularly uselessly right now. “Give me back my weapon.”
“What are you—”
Logan snatched the scythe-rang from the goon and, without hesitation, cut a proper gash on his forearm. Freya yelped.
“Logan!”
Logan thrust the arm at their [Healer]. “We’re going to power-level your ass. Heal it.”
The good doctor gave him a hesitant look. He gulped and made a polite, mild-mannered request of the Numa crystal.
Everyone looked at the four-inch red gash on Logan’s arm. First, the trickle of bleeding slowed down. Then the flesh knit itself back together an inch from both ends.
“Oh!” Rosenberg said. “I leveled up quite a lot!”
“Again!” Logan demanded.
For the next ten minutes, Logan cut and Rosenberg healed. Nearly everyone, including Logan’s father, came and watched the procedure. They only stopped when Logan fell to his knees from weakness due to blood loss. Regardless, he presented his trembling arm to the doctor. He healed it fully.
When Logan fumbled for his weapon, about to make another cut, Malcolm grabbed his wrist.
“Enough.”
“It’s not!” Logan spat out, half-delirious. “It’s my fault! I will fix it.”
“You will rest,” his father said in a tone that brooked no argument. Then he took the blade from Logan’s weakened hands and cut his own arm. It was a forceful and deep cut, blood flying in every direction. Without the slightest flinch on his stern face, Malcolm offered his hand to the doctor.
With blurry vision, his dizziness almost overtaking him, Logan noticed the E-grade crystal was almost spent. He fished for another one from his bulging, glowing pouch.
“Here,” he managed to say before passing out in Freya’s arms.
Logan woke up in the shade of a great tree of leathery leaves and a gray trunk. Freya held his head in her lap and smiled down affectionately.
“Not a bad way to wake up,” Logan said and gave her a smile.
Freya brushed a strand of hair off of his forehead. “Now this I know how to do at least.”
“What?” Logan muttered.
“Oh. Nothing.”
“How are you feeling?” Freya asked.
“A little weak.”
“Dr. Rosenberg told me you would need to eat something. We have some beetle-meat left.”
“G-great,” Logan muttered. “More beetles. Just what I wanted.”
Freya rolled her eyes. “I’ll go get you some.”
She returned a few minutes later with beetle mush and water in crude clay bowls. That doctor who had started working with clay must have gained a few levels. The bowls were smooth and almost even.
“She alright?” Logan asked quietly.
Freya’s face scrunched up ever so slightly in disgust.
“Don’t be an asshole, Frey,” Logan said gently.
“Y— I— She pisses me off, alright?!”
Logan laughed. It hurt his ribs. He was still sore from yesterday’s great battle. But a weight fell off his sore shoulders.
“She’s weak,” Freya said. “Took the doc two of those crystals to stabilize her. Now she’s resting in the den.”
“That’s what you guys are calling it?”
Freya shrugged. “It caught on.”
“You heard what happened?” Logan asked quietly, wiping his mouth after having gulped a big mouthful of water from the bowl.
“Some of it,” Freya said. “Balmer started making a report when your dad stopped cutting himself. I’ve never seen either of you looking so … intense.”
“Specters always act like that when they’re teleported into different realms!”
She giggled, but Logan noticed that she was mostly humoring him. He couldn’t blame her. That joke wasn’t exactly Late Night Show material. Blood loss was surely the reason.
Logan told her what had transpired. It sucked having to live through it again. Logan didn’t question his actions, as they had been necessary.
But He had put people at risk for greed. That sounded an awful lot like a Malcolm Specter move. Logan didn’t particularly enjoy that thought. But at least the risk had paid off. Twenty-three [E-grade Numa crystals]. Well, twenty-one if healing Kat had used two. That would leave seven for the three of them. Logan could get a lot done with seven of those bad boys. Oh, he had plans.
“I guess I left my satchel where we arrived,” Logan said and got up. “At least we made a fat bank!”
“Yeah, umm …” Freya said, searching for the right words.
Logan didn’t like where this was heading.
“He didn’t …” Logan asked, anger mounting in his voice.
Freya cringed. “He did.”
CHAPTER 27
All of Logan’s aches and feebleness were forgotten in a surge of anger. He knew he should calm down. He knew his father could have simply taken the Numa crystals for safekeeping. He knew he could be testing him (which pissed him off even more). Logan began to scan the camp but couldn’t find him anywhere.
“You …” Balmer said in a strange tone. “Are you looking for Mr. Specter?”
Logan had an overwhelming urge to snap at him and his stupid sweat-stained dress shirt. Instead of the sneer Logan was used to seeing on Balmer’s face, there was something wary. Logan stopped in his tracks and took a breath.
“Yeah,” Logan said with a strained voice.
Balmer nodded, and there was an awkward silence.
“She’s okay, right?”
“She is,” Balmer assured. “Her vision came back, and she got hungry. Ate some and slept.”
“Right …” Logan said. “Look. About what happened … I—”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this to you, Little Prince, but that was a good call,” Balmer said and gave him a wan smile.
“I was— What?”
“It was risky and stupid, of course,” Balmer said. “But after I’ve seen how powerful those crystals can be … Yeah, it was worth the risk.”
“You’re serious? We almost died.”
Balmer shrugged. “But we didn’t.”
“Since when did you get that stick out of your ass?” Logan asked, regaining some of his composure.
Balmer gave him a dry chuckle. “Same time you became useful for the first time in your life.”
“Yeah, fuck you.”
“Right back at you,” Balmer said. “Want to go check up on Kat?”
Something loosened inside Logan. His stupid father could wait. “Yeah. I do.”
Turned out Logan’s father was also in the den, as was Dr. Rosenberg and an agent guarding Logan’s satchel. Kat lay on the floor on her side, just breathing and watching their [Healer] fuss about her.
“I said I’m fine,” Kat said. “Go away.”
“Logan,” Malcolm said, “we will need to discuss your role in the camp.”
“Nice to see you too, Father.” Logan gave him a mock salute. Then he crouched down and pushed the doctor away. Dr. Rosenberg yelped in protest, but Logan just kept pushing until the [Healer] finally got up, muttering to himself.
“Thanks,” Kat said and gave a weak smile.
“You alright?”
“That sludge of yours sure kicks hard,” she said.
“You’re supposed to drink water in between.”
“Which reminds me, I’m gonna have you magic us some alcohol one of these days.”
“Well, we did get a sweet haul,” Logan said.
Weakly, Kat offered a fist. “Hell yeah, we did.”
Logan bumped her fist with his own but said nothing.
Kat watched him under her brows. “Look. Stop being a pussy. It was a good call. I’m alright and we made bank.”
“Fine,” Logan said. “I’ll let you rest. Glad you’re alright.”
Malcolm snapped his fingers and pointed at the door. Logan nodded and followed his father outside.
As he often did, Malcolm simply stood there, in his tattered, stained suit and waited. Logan knew this game. It was a power play. Logan often wondered if he even knew he was doing these things or if it was just as natural to his father as breathing.
Logan’s anger flared back, but he had done this dance before. He looked around the camp idly. Simmons had done short work of the copse nearby. Their camp was now much wider, a group of stumps evidence of Bulmer’s work. That was good. The camp also had a nice stack of lumber piling up. There were some elementary attempts at shelter, but mostly people were building tools or preparing food right now. The sun was bright and the camp’s bustle was somehow peaceful and homely to Logan. He smiled to himself.
“You did well,” Malcolm finally said. “I am … pleased.”
“Huh,” Logan let out. He didn’t really know what to say to that.
“It was risky to go look for the crystals to begin with. I heard from the agents what happened. You were thorough and careful. We are richer for it.”
“That’s—Thanks.”
Malcolm nodded. “I want to consult you on what we should do with the crystals.”
There was something in the way he said it that made Logan cross his arms and furrow his brow. “What exactly do you mean?”
“Well, you are the resident expert.”
“I am also the person who got this Numa,” Logan said, anger growing around him like a churning thundercloud.
“Not alone,” Malcolm reminded.
“A third should go to all three of us. The agents who were with us at the beginning already received a share.”
“Reasonable, were we in a free market society,” Malcolm said, his cool eyes regarding him without expression. Then he waved a hand. “Look around you. What should the crystals be used on?”
“How about this?” Logan said with all the collected calm he could muster. “You give me back what’s mine and I decide what should be done.”
“I am the leader of this operation.”
“So you keep reminding me,” Logan said. “Last time you gave me free reign, I built us shelter!”
“And it was well done,” Malcolm admitted. “You also made a pretty dress for your girlfriend.”
“Freya needed clothes,” Logan said and shrugged. “It wasn’t necessarily the best choice, so what?”
“So what?” Malcolm growled. “I don’t know if you noticed, Logan, but we are in a survival situation.”
“I’m not going to check with you every time I take a shit, Father!” Logan said, loud enough to attract the attention of people building a fire for the evening nearby. “You can lead. But you have to stop this micromanagement bullshit. Give me back my crystals.”
Malcolm regarded him with a long, hard stare. “Greedy and petulant. If I give you some, what will you do with them?”
If I give you some. The nerve of this bastard.
“Now, Father,” Logan said carefully, as if explaining a difficult subject to a child, “how many people do you have who are willing and capable of going out there and getting these all-important crystals?”
“Get to the point, Logan.”
“You’re better off having me cooperative.”
[Reconfiguring Neural Matrix … 49% completion]
“That’s strange. You okay there, Tumor?”
[This one is using 97% of its capacity to decode the data transfer given by the insect you discovered earlier.]
After a long pause, Malcolm nodded. “Understood. Now answer my previous question.”
“What will I use my crystals for? Weapons.”
Malcolm scoffed. “I was a fool to even ask you.”
Logan looked at Simmons attacking a thick tree trunk with the intensity of a hungry dervish twenty yards away. That man had an aura of heat emanating from him.
“You remember that actually useful advice you gave me when I was seven and was getting bullied in school?”
Malcolm raised half an eyebrow. “I do not recall.”
“I bet you don’t …” Logan muttered. “You told me that if someone attacks me, I need to fight back immediately.”
Malcolm untangled his crossed arms, letting one of them fall to his pocket. “I’m surprised to hear that you actually listened for once.”
“I’m surprised to hear you using sarcasm. You must have jungle fever.”
Malcolm smiled. It was a slight gesture, but for a fleeting moment, the glacial ice left his eyes.
Logan stored that image somewhere in the back of his mind. “Anyway, the teachers got extremely mad, but those idiots had it coming. They never bullied me again.”
Maybe it was the sun playing tricks on Logan’s eyes, but something seemed to soften in his father’s expression. Maybe it was some long overdue respect. Logan liked to think so, at least. But it left his father’s face as soon as it came. Back was the stern disapproval, and he crossed his arms again.
“It is good that you have grown, Logan,” Malcolm said. “But you’re a fool if you think we need to build weapons now. More people are coming here by the hour. We need shelter, we need food, we need tools. You will help us build. That is the end of it.”
Malcolm walked past him back to the den, leaving Logan to bristle at the grass.
CHAPTER 28
Logan had Tumor wake him up at what was estimated to be three hours before sunrise—apparently at 91.72 percent certainty. Logan had to remind Tumor to not use decimals. Having suffered from blood loss and needing to recover from the previous adventure meant that it wasn’t actually all that bad to have Tumor zap him awake. It worked not unlike the jolt of caffeine coffee used to provide him in the morning.
“Hey, how did you wake me up?”
[This one manipulated the signals that prompt cortisol production. This one also sent false signals to the part of the neural network, specifically the ones regarding your bladder capacity.]
That checked out. Logan did need to pee. More importantly, Tumor could do that?! Holy crap. If Tumor were a Swiss Army knife, Logan had practically just been using the corkscrew this entire time. Speaking of which, he really wished they could figure out wine soon.
Logan stifled a yawn and crept out of the den. He had positioned himself close to the door, so as not to wake anyone up when he moved. He couldn’t help but throw a fearful glance at his father, but Malcolm Specter was snoring lightly.
Logan clenched his fist. He wasn’t sure this would work, but hell, why not try?
Malcolm had placed Logan’s satchel in the care of the two night-guards. Logan had to give credit where credit was due. His old man had predicted Logan would try to pull some bullshit.
