Chris looked at him levelly. “Good Sir Philip, I would never consider trolling you. Sleep well.”

Without a backward glance, and without heed toward his guest’s splutters, Chris placed the lantern on the floor for Philip, then gathered his things and strode out the door. He stopped by the Spawning Vat and gave the spigot a twist, preventing it from spawning any more slimes—there were almost too many, he didn’t want them spilling out.

Wanting to test something out, he set his alchemy materials aside and thrust his hand into the pitfall in which the Slime had gathered.

A pseudopod of Slime met his arm, then was absorbed into his fingers. The fatigue he’d felt from shedding Slime, while convincing Philip he was about to explode, disappeared with abruptness. He felt good as the flow of Slime into him slowed, then halted entirely. He waggled his fingers, feeling refreshed.

The Slimes inside the pit hadn’t burnt his skin, so he put his other hand in. Sticky gooeyness cohered to his fingers, feeling like aloe vera, but doing little else. Cool. They probably counted as friendly to him and maybe other humans, although it was possible that his entire body had gained some measure of acid resistance.

He heard a crash from inside Philip’s house, probably as the only piece of furniture inside collapsed.

Smiling, Chris withdrew his hand from the Slimes and walked back to his Keep as a fresh stream of curses came from Philip. On his way, he stopped to buy a new shield, a suit of silvery gray plate armor, and of course a lantern and mattress—his keep wasn’t exactly furnished either.

It took two trips to get everything in place, but once it was done, he stripped, laying his mattress on the floor beside his armor, then went to sleep.

He rose, bright and early, to sunlight spilling in through a narrow window set high up in the wall. He donned his armor, cleared his meridians of mana, and strolled outside.

A quick trip to the General Supplies Vendor yielded a sandwich magicked out of thin air, and the discovery that Philip was just waking up as well. The rain of the previous day was nowhere to be seen and Chris decided to take his alchemy supplies outside to work on as Philip got ready. He’d been tired last night—not too tired to troll the poor man, but still tired. What was he even doing out here? Why?

He settled down, adding a few of the reagents he’d prepared the previous day to the potion suspension solution. A dash of something called olear powder, a pinch of carbon, and grain of salt, then a mote of mana into the heating pad integrated into the retort. It was one of the simpler recipes in the alchemy book, an astringent cleaning solution that was good for cleaning metal, and less good for drinking.

He poured it over his hammer, watching caked dirt and blood slide off the surface, splattering against the floor in a murky sludge that aggregated dirt and dust on the road into balls of black tar that quickly hardened. He kicked them into the Slime pit.

He began a new potion—a minor Perception enhancer. This time, the recipe was more complex and required a longer wait until it was prepared. He summoned his Dao, and black wisps manifested around his hand, with a corresponding drain on mana. He raised his hammer, then tried concentrating the Dao of Suppression in the head. Languidly, the black energy concentrated around the head, too sparse to cover it completely.

He gave the weapon a swing. The motes of darkness outlined the hammer’s trajectory like an afterimage, before gathering back around the weapon. He wanted to test it out more, but his mana was getting low. With some reluctance, he let his Dao fade, then checked his Status.

Name Christopher Hill Level 18 Class None Race Hybrid: Human (F-2), Slime (F-2) Cultivation Troll (F-1) Dao Suppression (Black-Foundation) Traits Human Potential, Monster Hybrid, Monstrous Constitution, Monstrous Assimilation, Amorphous, Stone Form Titles Genesis of Blood, Prime Underdog, Agent of Self-destruction, Prince of Poison, Makeshift Master, Prodigy, Legendary Prodigy, Unrivalled Prodigy, Horde Disciple I, Xenocidal, Infiltrator, Anomaly Breaker I, Rift Scion, Surpasser, Area Guardian I System Coins 343 Strength 83 Dexterity 99 Constitution 96 Endurance 79 Intelligence 78 Wisdom 74 Perception 73 Luck 107

He was nearing Level 20—two more levels to go—which meant that it was almost time to hand in that quest. Still, it might take some time, it was becoming increasingly difficult to level with each new height he attained.

There was also information beside his Dao—Black and Foundation. He had no clue what that meant, but it probably had something to do with rank, probably graded by color rather than alphabetically, and with various stages starting at Foundation. He had no idea how it would end. Gold-Super-Saiyan or something?

He was definitely at the bottom rank of it though. His Dao had none of the clarity of any of the three constituents that had combined to form. He assumed that was the System drawing on his experiences and fleshing them out to solidify his Dao. However, now that he actually had it, it felt flimsy and weak—a thought without much substance. Its previous incarnation in his center seemed like a distant memory to him. It would seem that his Dao was something that he would have to develop on his own. It had something to do with the strength of images, understanding, and conceptualization, but he wasn’t certain he knew how to deepen his comprehension of something like Suppression—it felt so abstract.

He’d also need a victim to test it out on. He glanced over to Philip’s house, then mentally scolded himself for even thinking such a thing. He’d only use him as a test subject if he couldn’t find a monster to use his Dao on. He had considered using the Slime pit, but there were hundreds, if not thousands of the monsters inside, he might not be able to fully distinguish the effects, especially since they were trapped in one big puddle of goo.

Philip chose that moment to leave the house, outfitted in his new plate mail.

Chris looked up at him, then down at his potion attempt. He cursed. The mixture had been heated for too long while he’d been distracted. Instead of a robin’s egg blue, it was now a much darker, sludgy concoction that looked like it could be used in roadbuilding.

The Slimes shrank away as he poured the failed potion into their pit, then collected the rest of his equipment and dumped it just inside the door of his keep.

He turned to see Philip waiting. “Sir Philip, may I help you? You never informed me what brought you here.”

“We might need your help, Sir Christopher. It’s not urgent, but we might need it all the same.”

“Very well, I will consider it. And how did you find this place?”

“Someone found the Hartshire Map Hall yesterday; broke in through a window. It showed your location, but until recently we were unable to get here because of those red skinned, bat faced monsters.”

“The demons.” Chris nodded, silently noting that at least some settlements must have certain buildings added to them automatically. Maybe Nathak got stone walls, while Hartshire got wooden ones and a map hall. Interesting. “What brings you to this place?”

“Monsters were spotted nearby, humanoid hyenas. They haven’t done anything, and no one has gone missing since I was last there, but it has people worried. You’re the strongest—” Philip paused just as his mouth began to form the first letter of ‘NPC’, “person we know, and we thought there might be a garrison here. We could take out the demons by baiting them close to the shield around Hartshire, but these new monsters keep their distance.”

“Is Hartshire not protected?”

“It is, but the N— the native guards are all Level 15. One of them has a skill. [Insightful Gaze]. Called them Plains Gnolls. Said that they were all at least Level 13 at the lowest, and some of them were unable to be identified.”

Chris thought back to when he was shopping for skills. Didn’t that mean that one of the monsters had an high ranked body? That wouldn’t be good if it was the case. Had upgrading the rank of the Area also increased the strength of some of the monsters nearby? He cast his mind to the other thing that Philip had said. “Do you have a Defender’s Barracks? You mentioned native guards.”

“A what?”

“A building with beds in it. They have timers on them.”

“No, nothing like that. We checked most of the buildings after we discovered the Map Hall. The guards were just already there.” Philip’s face scrunched up into a frown.

“Yes, Sir Philip?”

“There was one building. Locked. It gives a quest to the anyone who tries to open the door: Kill the guards to become Settlement Leader. It also said that killing the guards would remove Starter Protections.”

Chris’ gaze sharpened. “Tell me. Are you protecting the guards and the door?”

“Yes, but there’s a problem with that too. No one’s touched the door since we started guarding it. But we talked with the guards, even if they don’t talk much. There used to be five of them, there’s only four left now.”

Chris rubbed his forehead. Someone was making a bid to become Settlement Leader.

“What happened to him?”

“One of the… guys who got transported here asked the guard to escort him to hunt in the forest. The guard didn’t return.”

“Who with?” Chris’ mind whirled. If they had a Defender’s Barracks, the guard might be about to respawn. That didn’t seem likely, given that the System had put a hit out on the Hartshire guards in the form of a quest.

“We don’t know.”

“When did the guard go missing?”

“Six days ago. Almost seven.”

Chris went still. “Are you sure? Not,” he counted on his fingers, “three days ago?”

“By noon, we’ll have been here for seven days.”

The blood drained from Chris’ face. How long had he been in that Dungeon for?