Power-Leveling is for Chickens

John’s reappearance in the Bitter Nines headquarters was met with questions and breakdowns of what had been discovered in his brief absence: in those minutes that had been hours for him, the casualties suffered by the Lawmen of the Plate had been estimated to be nearly or over half their whole numbers and a quarter of their resources, and that was without considering the “disastrous” loss of the Purifier. Botuk was quick to warn—brag?—that this still accounted for less than a tenth of the Lawmen at the Peak’s command, of course… but it was a start.

But even with Botuk’s earnest report guaranteed by brand, she was light on the details; she had to go based on projections of what came to pass before she was cut off from the Network, and whatever their plan was now was unknown to her. The devastation would be felt, she estimated, by virtually every stretch of the Plate: the sudden dip in Lawmen patrols would not be covered for some hundred days without emergency orders from the Peak, and the Plate’s criminal elements would take full advantage.

Which Golgon was counting on, of course.

As they reviewed the information, the vault room was being slowly broken down into pieces: Tricia’s drones cut chunks of it out with tiny, super-heated cutters while the Bitter Nines marveled at her technology. Whatever commanded them was automated enough that Tricia had come to John to summarize what little they had learned of security protocols and information known by the enemy.

“Did they mention any… you know…”

Spies, they both understood. “No,” Tricia safely responded, knowing her words remained untranslated, “but it appears that even the Warden down here was kept totally in the dark; she didn’t even know why the metals were moved, much less under whose information or for whatever reason the Peak had. Their organizational structure is severely segregated; she honestly knew little more than what we already did through the Keeper or our experiences.”

John nodded with pursed lips before asking, “Am I needed for anything for awhile?”

Tricia glanced about. “Other than morale, I don’t believe so. Most of us are just continuing to recover, lay low, and wait for news from that ‘Kitok’ they employ.” She cocked her head to the side. “Why?”

“I’m going to train my summons so they’re ready for what’s coming.”

Tricia nodded. “An efficient use of this… ‘downtime’ we now have. We will need exceptional forces based on our utter lack of information regarding the enemy and her fortress at the top of this superstructure. Do you think you should take… some of us, as well? To level?”

“Maybe next time; partying up did dilute the XP, which was fine before… but right now, I need all the XP I can farm.”

Tricia nodded before rising on her toes to give John a peck on the lips before whispering, “Don’t be too long.”

The rebels watched John step through a tunnel and vanish without another word. Galley, who was now stretching with some of the Order knights who were trying to stay in fighting condition, had thought to say something, to get John’s attention and ask… what, exactly? She had no reason to bother him… but she didn’t care for being out of the loop… and then there was his cute dog…

“Hey, you,” Miles greeted in English.

Galley didn’t bother glancing up as she slowly lowered herself into a split, her robe hiking up her legs as they spread.

Miles didn’t ask again; she just admired the view quietly.

From the corner of her eye, Galley couldn’t help but notice Miles’ rising “interest” in her stretches. “I already told you I’m not interested.”

“I’m not here for that.”

Galley glanced at the rock-hard cock that rose to reveal the moist snatch between Miles’ thighs. “You can understand why I don’t believe you.”

“Fight me.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re strong,” Miles bluntly replied.

Galley shook her head as she raised her arms, never lifting from her split. “What makes you think that?”

“I’ve been watching you,” the Dorani replied hungrily.

“You should stop that.”

“I can just tell. Look, it won’t be to the ****, just a nice sparring match upstairs. How about it?”

The idea of punching Miles in the face was growing enticing… but Galley also lacked any confidence in doing so. She had heard rough approximations of this particular woman’s abilities; Galley, meanwhile, still lacked her strongest weapon or enchantments… she was, in her own mind, naught but a fit woman who knew how to box.

“If you do, I’ll show you a secret,” Miles all but sang with a wink.

Galley looked her dead in the eye without so much as a glance at Miles’ still-naked body. “You don’t seem like you’d have many… secrets.”

“I’d surprise you… and besides, it’ll be fun! C’mon, what else are you going to do? Hang out with these weaklings?”

Said weaklings began to sneer and grumble until Miles’ gaze fell on them with a withering precision. Their complaints died down.

“Geez… well, if it gets you to leave us alone from now on,” Galley declared as she slowly rose from her stance, “and you think it’s safe to even do so…”

“Then we’re coming too!” Miles spun on her heel, surprised to hear from the pink-haired girl of a slim, unimpressive build. Miles had ideas about her, too… but those ideas more involved what Galley thought Miles was up to.

Travolta, who had already rebuked Miles’ advances, grumbled at this proposition too. “No, we’re not.” Travolta rubbed his shaved head in token frustration as he followed his charge into yet another unwanted confrontation.

“Fine, you’re not,” Rave shrugged as she continued to approach the pair of “women,” “but I’m tired of sitting on the sidelines… besides, I want practice before shit really hits the fan.”

The bickering went on like this until a small fight club had come to form. Golgon sent Miles up with his blessing; Tricia repeatedly warned them against appearing anywhere visible to Plate dwellers who might report them; and Miles the Human, grinning ear to ear, took her unexpected bounty up into the structure above.

A few minutes later…

The physical wall that encircled the Popot Field remained imposing to John, and no less so as he watched a dozen Lawmen patrolling the skies above it. His view from the nearby immovable—a twisted, oblong structure with rags covering abandoned windows—afforded him an anonymity at this distance, even with the pale firelight emanating from Tara.

But maybe I should have her douse herself anyways… If John wasn’t careful, they might raise the alarm and bring all manner of forces down on his head; if he got everyone into the barrier in time, however, it would apparently cause no trouble given the complete lack of familiarity that Golgon and the other natives showed with the concept of illusion barriers. Juniluny and Tricia both assured him it was nothing unique to Earth; so had the concept simply never reached Vantage? But all the same, John did not desire attention. Instead, he found one of the abandoned structures closest to the Popot Field and prepared his minions in its bottommost, shadowed chamber.

You summoned Regan.

As much as John wanted to grand summon the lot of his **** minions, the reduction of total numbers he could call made it too risky. With Rosa back at the Bitter Nines as his eyes and ears, John had only seven slots left. The final team had come down to Lily, Regan, Thumalk, and Woofroot as the creatures he would see improved, all while Ju, Fairy, and Tara would provide fire support. All that remained now was to create the illusion barrier as Regan appeared…

“W… Whoa…” came her excited sigh. Regan wore her wondrous expression from where her head was harnessed: against her abdomen in front of her with a series of straps and cradling kelbok plastics (or at least they felt like plastic to John). The ultimate effect was that her long, black locks of hair dangled near her waist while the rest of her head was firmly locked down, leaving her hands completely free. Beyond this harness, her armor was very light: gray metal plates strapped to her arms and legs over a basic cloth layer of black, all designed by John to both be as light a burden as possible while also giving him some peace of mind.

Lily and Thumalk arrived wearing the same boring adventuring gear: blue-tinted metal plates set into leather, none of which did anything beyond provide five points of damage resistance. What shined on their forms with equal power were the silver bands sitting on their brows, each topped with four opal-like stones. Regan, too, wore the circlet, though it was hidden by the strap anchoring the top of her head.

Circlet of Noble Guard: minor magical headgear. Grants the wearer DR 5/10/15 against unaspected/energy/physical damage. The circlet also produces a shield of 100HP that is recharged with the wearer’s command, exchanging 2MP per point of recharge.

With all three so well-warded, John had to hope it was enough. Sensing his unease, a soft, happy bark came from Woofroot. John glanced down, shushing his dog with as good a demeanor as he could manage; they were in enemy territory, after all, and he didn’t want any Lawmen flying nearby—if any bothered to patrol after the chaos the Gamer had sown—to catch on.

Woofroot seemed please enough, even as he scratched with his hind leg at the red collar around his neck. It wasn’t going to come off, given how snugly John had secured it; if it really bothered the pet, his cheerful yap didn’t betray it.

Hellhound’s Leash: minor magical necklace. Grants the wearer 50DR versus fire damage and 10DR versus radiant damage.

The fear of his plant pet being lit aflame by one enemy or another could, at last, be put mostly to rest for John. Or accidentally, by another… Tara’s hands perched on her generous hips who, no longer underground or near anything flammable, let her flickering hair reignite and give some light to the otherwise barren chamber. Her dress remained immaculate and incombustible, and her body heat cast dark shades over the winged and undead women behind her. “Alright then… so now we’re babysitting, is that right?”

John grimaced at the disdain in his half-human’s voice. Tara had helped him thus far on the sole premise of returning to Earth and her “freedom,” hectic as that was. Her tone never let John forget that much. “Just until they can defend themselves.”

Thumalk unsheathed the long sword at his side, no worse for wear than when he had been captured; Lily, still with her squinting eyes, just planted her hands on her armored chest. She didn’t speak; John had ordered her to be silent in his efforts to remove any interpretation of affection in his actions… but secretly, she knew how much he was working to protect her.

Because he cared for her…

HP: 24/24

Christ, she lost another point already?! “Alright, hopefully no one from Vantage can secretly infiltrate my barrier; even if they can, we’re far enough out that they won’t find us once I head back. Remember your priorities in the coming combat… and do not attack any seemingly intelligent people or creatures unless they attack first or I order otherwise.”

A general murmur of agreement sounded from the more **** members; Lily and Regan, both excited for what this could mean, gave enough enthusiasm to make up for the rest. Fairy and Tita both looked about, waiting for the entrance to John’s barriers… except he had no intention to parse it today.

“U-Um… John?” Regan raised her hand diligently as she had during home schooling.

“W… What is it, Regan?”

“What should I fight with?” She showed her bare hands, and motioned towards Lily as well. “We don’t have anything…”

“For now, you just need to survive. If you do that… you’ll be a tremendous help, I promise.”

Regan didn’t buy it, but she had **** but to cast her eyes down in silent agreement. Lily, already ordered into silence, only nodded sagely at her Master’s wisdom... just to the right of her Master.

Christ, I hope this works… John pulled up his character sheet and re-read Abysswalk. He contemplated easy confrontations when he noticed the parameters the spell permitted… Type…? What does that mean? How specific can I…? “Alright…” John willed the spell into place; an interface popped up with naught but a search bar, leaving the rest of the parameters to John’s mental command. Willing the barrier of the size and time dilation he desired, John carefully typed in “Kitok the Noisy from Vantage.”

ERRORS: cannot Abysswalk into creatures of a particular barrier; cannot Abysswalk into creatures from the source barrier; cannot Abysswalk targeting an individual or specific group of individuals.

John read the errors each in turn, doing his best to understand the limits of the spell. Source barrier… so nothing from this kingdom. Huh… then what about… Less patiently he typed, “Wolves from Earth,” imagining for a moment the idea of friends for Woofroot-

ERRORS: cannot Abysswalk into creatures of a particular barrier.

“Alright,” he sighed in frustration, continuing to meditate on the spell, “so I can’t treat ‘Earth’ as a type, either… let’s try something simpler…”

You cast Abysswalk.

The building shifted slightly… and rather than the bizarre warping caused by parsing, the physical world had become… blurred. John had only made the barrier large enough to cover the room he was in and the room above, a sealed chamber with only the staircase before him leading out of it. The Gamer looked around to make sure; each summon had indeed come with him, and each stood where he had scooped them into the illusion barrier. “So that worked…”

“What worked, exactly?” Tara asked, annoyed at having to read John’s interface both from afar and backwards.

“I asked for low-level chickens.”

Most of the summons took a moment to let that sink in… until Tara asked again, “What kind of chickens?”

“Um… chicken chickens? I mean, my barrier lets me specify what kind of enemy I want, but it doesn’t let me specify them from Earth,” John explained, his eyes searching the darkness of the stairwell for some feathered birds or another, “but I figured that, if humans explored the Abyss, then they probably colonized some parts of it too, maybe enough to bring livestock. Even if they didn’t, this would prove that even things from Earth would-”

“Alright… chickens,” Tara repeated. “But… they would have to be the chickens you meant, right?”

“Well… yeah?”

Tara remained unconvinced. Fairy, too, had joined her skepticism, chiding her Master, “If this spell really pulls from anywhere in the Abyss, Master… you didn’t just think the word chicken, right?”

“That’s… well that depends on how the thought was formed, I guess? What else would it refer to-?”

A crimson light began to fill the stairwell; its slow manifestation came with a rolling growl, guttural and almost intelligible. That noise only vaguely sounded like the creature John was expecting… and it rose into a battle cry to shatter the bickering of petty mortals.