Monroe

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-six. 713 and counting down.

Monroe watched as his human-servant slept. He'd awoken earlier and enjoyed a drink from the ever-flowing water box that his servant had provided for him.

He'd made a few rounds of the den his human had arranged for him and even taken a few nibbles of the plants that had been growing in boxes in the sunroom.

Monroe loved the sunroom. The long ledge that ran along the base of the clear-wall allowed him to find a sunbeam at nearly any time of day.

But now he was hungry.

Monroe knew that his human-servant had fish for him.

Carefully, claws sheathed, he reached out and gently batted at his human's face.

Bob woke up to a huge paw, complete with toe-tufts booped him on the nose.

"Buddy," he grumbled as he sat up, knowing that if he didn't, Monroe would just keep batting at his face.

hunger-play-run

Bob nodded sleepily as he read the emotions projected by his feline overlord.

"Breakfast first, then we'll see about having some fun," he told his fluffy alarm cat, then stood stretching carefully.

Getting to the kitchen proved to be an adventure, as Monroe had decided that he wanted to wind his way between Bob's legs.

While this had been a bit inconvenient before the big floofers growth spurt, it was now downright hazardous, as Monroe bulldozed his leg aside with a powerful nudge, causing Bob to stumble and catch himself on the doorframe.

Letting out a long-suffering sigh, Bob pushed mana into the pattern for an effect over time Flight spell, allowing him to glide to the kitchen, with minor course corrections as Monroe continued his affectionate winding.

Bob opened his stasis box and considered his options.

With a shrug, he pulled out a bear steak and an iridescent trout, showing both to Monroe.

The big Maine-Coone batted at the trout, but Bob was able to keep hold of it. He knew that Monroe could probably handle eating the tiny bones, but it only took him a minute to clean it.

After attending to his overlord's breakfast and scrambling some eggs for himself, Bob retired to the sunroom, kicking back in his favorite chair as he watched the sky being to lighten.

Monroe sauntered over and hopped up on his lap, sprawling out to cover the arms of the oversized easy chair.

"Good morning to you too," Bob murmured as he pulled a slicker brush out of his inventory and started running it through Monroe's long silky coat.

He'd discovered that if he didn't brush Monroe every other day, his fur tended to bunch and tangle, requiring him to comb it out, which took a lot longer.

Fortunately, Monroe was almost always up for a good brushing if the ever-increasing volume of his purrs served as any indication.

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Bob's morning ritual was interrupted as a System notification filled his vision.

Time until System Integration : 713 Days, 15 Hours, 59 Minutes, 28 seconds.

"Shit," he whispered, "Trebor is that..."

'Yes,' Trebor responded quietly, 'that is the countdown until the System integrates your universe.'

Bob recognized that he was, and had been, panicking.

Time until System Integration : 713 Days, 15 Hours, 17 Minutes, 9 seconds.

Apparently, for a bit over half an hour.

"Trebor, would you please remove the countdown timer until I ask for it again?"

As the notification disappeared, Bob took several slow, deep breaths, forcing himself to keep his eyes open.

He had damn near two years until the System integrated his universe. He just needed to pop on over to Earth and find someone to handle the approaching apocalypse.

Bob paused.

"Trebor," he began slowly, "if I were to Portal to Earth, would I be able to regain my mana, being as it apparently isn't active in my universe?"

'You would not,' Trebor responded pleasantly, 'although you would be able to do so if you portaled into your Arcane Depths.'

"Well, at least there is that," Bob muttered.

'In the interest of disclosing all relevant information,' Trebor continued, 'there is a skill that allows you to drain the mana from a mana crystal to refill your reserves."

Bob sighed.

"That sounds like another skill that I'm likely to need," he said with resignation.

He needed to apotheosis to tier six, as there were skills he needed.

Sadly, apotheosising to a Yheldaar meant that the cost to level from twenty-six to thirty would be over fifteen thousand more mana crystals. From thirty to thirty-six would be another forty-six thousand crystals. All told, he'd need sixty-two thousand crystals to reach the level cap for tier six, as a Yheldaar.

If he opted to become a Paragon, it would only take three thousand seven hundred and twenty crystals to reach thirty and a further eleven thousand five hundred and twenty to reach thirty-six.

In short, it would take the same number of crystals to reach level thirty-six as a Paragon, as it would to reach level thirty as a Yheldaar.

If he could manage to delve for five to six hours a day, he could gather five hundred or so crystals each day, which meant he could reach level thirty-six in a month as a Paragon.

"Trebor," Bob began, "in regards to the Yheldaar, could I proceed as a Paragon Human, and then when I apotheosis to tier seven, become a Paragon Yheldaar?"

'You would need to meet the requirements for the Yheldaar species, namely the Affinities,' Trebor replied.

"So my lack of Shadowmancy and Mana Affinities would prevent that," Bob reasoned.

'Again, for full disclosure, you could purchase a System skill that would allow you to change your species from a Paragon Human to a Yheldaar, although you would need to use double the difference in the mana crystal cost between the two in order to do so,' Trebor said.

'Further,' Trebor continued, 'that particular skill can be used to move laterally between equally tiered species as frequently as you'd like, for as many species as you'd like. There are several species that base their cultural hierarchy around how many different species an individual has experienced.'

"So, doable, although I'd need to gather nearly a hundred thousand mana crystals to move from a level thirty-six Human Paragon to a level thirty-six Yheldaar," Bob grumbled.

He ran his hands through Monroe's ruff, letting the low rumble of the big cat's purr soothe him.

Two years sounded like a long time, but how much time did he have, really?

If he rushed someone through with the Path of the Elemental Conjurer, which was arguably the quickest path to get started on, guiding them through the skills they'd need to be able to delve without worrying about mana density sickness, he could maybe have someone reach twenty-five in six weeks. Maybe seven. They'd only really need him for the first week and a half, two weeks.

He could likely handle four groups of four at once. So sixteen people at a time. They could likely start guiding others around level fifteen or so, so call it three weeks in.

At that point, it started to become exponential, and the limiting factor became the capacity of the Dungeon. And before that happened, there would be logistical issues that Bob knew he wasn't even versed enough to see coming.

No, sooner was definitely better than later.

He'd take the month, he decided, gathering more mana and Affinity Crystals.

With a grimace, Bob stood up, shifting Monroe onto his shoulders.

He still had a group of freshers to Shepherd.

Ellen fought back a sigh. She needed to maintain her cover, and a teenage fresher would be excited to finally delve down to the tenth floor, where her group could rapidly advance their skills.

She was just tired of pretending, tired of playing this role. While she could appreciate the rapid advancement, she would have preferred to move up slowly, taking the time to cap her skills at each level before delving down to the next floor.

The Path of the Endless Swarm was, she admitted to herself, ridiculously powerful. Her mana-infused creatures were currently capped at fifteen, which meant that she could barrage her summon and bring out four level seven mana-infused creatures, which were more than a match for the level ten scorpions.

Ellen took a drink from her canteen, as Bob bellowed... something.

She'd stopped paying attention earlier.

She was resting in a chair under a pavilion while concentrating on her spell, dropping it every other monster to ensure her summons were at full health.

Her initial trepidation had disappeared as her path's true potential become clear.

Ellen was going to keep this path, thank you very much. She'd have plenty of skills available for healing or even curating if she wanted to.

She'd pick up Melee and Dodge, Matrix Manipulation, Armor, and then Scale Armor. That would take her to level ten, at which point she'd have fifteen levels of skills to fill at her whim.

Shaking her head, she picked up the mana crystal her mana-infused creature had retrieved for her.

Just one more week, and then Bob would declare them ready to stand on their own.

Thidwell grinned sharply at Rogard as the man looked at the ledger dumbfounded.

"How can you be making so little?" Rogard asked slowly as he read through the entries for the week.

Thidwell shrugged unrepentantly and replied, "A crystal for a meal, a crystal for a room, a crystal per level, per month, for dues."

Rogard frowned.

"Don't you charge for access to your Dungeon?" He asked.

"No," Thidwell replied gleefully, "quite a few people donate crystals every few months to help me drive it deeper, but I've never required anyone to pay in order to delve the Dungeon."

"How can you possibly turn a profit like this?"

Thidwell snorted, "I'm not trying to turn a profit; as long as we're breaking even and no one is losing money, I can focus on the things that really matter."

Rogard shook his head.

"I'd expected to be sending significantly more back from the Guild," he lamented.

"I'm happy to disappoint you," Thidwell rumbled.

Rogard glared at him, then took a deep breath before replying. "You seem to be laboring under the misapprehension that I am your enemy," he began, "I can assure you that I am not. The King expects a certain level of revenue from Holmstead, and believe me, you'd much rather deal with me than him."

"You were raised in Harbordeep," Rogard leaned forward and lowered his voice, "You bloody well know what the King is and how his kind responds to disobedience or rebellion."

Thidwell's smile was sharp as he responded, "It's too late; the rebellion has already started." He shook his head, "The King made a smart play, sending out higher tier nobles to help, and demanding only five percent," he shrugged, "it's just enough aid, and only a little tax, that even I will accept it."

"But," Thidwell was almost gleeful, "make no mistake, if he shows up and throws his weight around, everyone with an Affinity Crystal and a Path is going to see him for the Tyrant he is and head further inland, maybe even further north, far enough away that they can establish a city outside his control."

Rogard stared at the huge man, shock written across his features.

"I don't think the common man would be quite so willing to leave, risking his life in such an uncertain venture," he replied.

Thidwell laughed darkly, "Oh, I'm sure you don't think so," he spat, "but I know that the 'common man' as you refer to the people who make up the majority of the citizenry are fucking sick of being used and abused by the Nobility and if the King decides to attack a town because he decided he wasn't receiving enough revenue from it?"

"Oh, they'll leave," he chortled, "they'll leave in droves, and those left behind will be the dregs, the least useful."

Thidwell stood and leaned over his desk, staring down at Rogard.

"So you tell your King that if he wants to keep his Kingdom, he ought to stay in that pretty little citadel of his because the moment that Dragon flies over a town or city other than Harbordeep is the moment it all starts to fall apart," Thidwell growled.

"You have your ill-gotten gains," he gestured to the bag of mana crystals and the ledger, "as well as the ledger showing the accuracy of the amount."

Thidwell pointed at the door and bellowed, "Now get the fuck out of my office!"