3:37 PM - (13d 15h) - M: 03/10 (-2)(10% eff.) 3:42 PM - (13d 16h) - M: 03/10 (-2)(10% eff.) 4:42 PM - (13d 17h) - M: 03/10 (-2)(10% eff.) 5:06 PM - (13d 17h) - M: 02/10 (-2)(10% eff.) * 5:42 PM - (13d 18h) - M: 02/10 (-2)(10% eff.) 6:37 PM - (13d 18h) - M: 01/10 (-2)(10% eff.) * 6:42 PM - (13d 19h) - M: 01/10 (-2)(10% eff.) 1h old = 1h new …yay! 6:37 PM - 5:06 PM = 1 hr 31 min per Mana lost 6:45 PM Dismissing laptop, will resume when mana increases. Woke: 12:19 AM - (13d 25h) - M: 02/10 (-2)(10% eff.) Slept ~6 hr 20 min, gained 1 mana. Conclusion: My mana regen sucks. Solution: …Doubled to 20% it would still suck, and I don't have that many AP anyhow. Need a skill.

Silas sighed and saved the text file before dismissing his laptop, uncomfortable after having slept bent over his wobbly desk in an uncomfortable chair.

He stood and stretched, then shivered at the cold, having forgotten he wore nothing but a blanket.

A gaming necessity like no other, he conjured himself a fleece classic Batman onesie complete with hood-mask eye holes and a cape big enough to wrap around himself like an extra blanket.

[Skill Gaming Necessities reached Level 11! +1 XP!] █

So warm. Should have done that earlier.

Frowning, he decided his terminal window needed some updates. The brackets and annoying cursor had to go. His Status could use some streamlining too. He messed around for a bit, earning a few Interface skill ups in the process. Yet even after all that tinkering, he hadn't wasted enough time to generate a single point of mana.

In the end, he needed more mana if he wanted to keep his laptop summoned. He could waste a skill choice on the Help skill, which would likely help him figure out some of these mechanics which now ruled his life, or he could just go with his gut. Even if the skill didn't do what he thought he did, it would still be a shiny new, probably useful in some way, skill.

Better to take a risk than read the manual. Who does that?

Interface was good enough to give him some hints regarding the inner workings of his Status page. With a mental push he managed to expand the abbreviated text on his status. The "eff." where his mana regen should be listed expanded to "efficiency."

Looking at Vitality and Affinity, both stats governing regen, paired side by side made Silas realize the way all the attributes were arranged in ordered pairs was significant. Physical stats on the left, mental stats on the right.

Strength was physical power; Will was mental power, magical power.

Agility was physical speed; Wit therefore was mental and magical speed, which fit.

Endurance was physical toughness and governed his Health and Stamina; Spirit was therefore mental and magical, perhaps spiritual, toughness, and governed his Mana capacity.

Vitality governed physical regeneration; therefore, Affinity governed mental and magical regeneration.

Perception and Charisma took some thought before he saw their correlation. Perception governed how he saw the world. Charisma governed how the world saw him.

Taking it a step further, if one thought of Charisma, often important for social and leadership skills in games, as "mental Perception," then it fit that the attribute governed what he could see in others, making him better suited to lead and navigate social situations. What a dump stat. A high enough Will could probably let him ignore the draw of someone with a high Charisma in any case.

Therefore, considering Perception as "physical Charisma," perhaps it might also govern how well others could see or detect him, physically, when he wanted to be stealthy. Or maybe not, this guess felt like a bigger stretch. …Although, maybe it could help him know when others were watching him? This felt more likely.

Back on task, he needed better mana regeneration.

When looking at his stats and trying to understand the connection between an affinity for mana and the efficiency of mana regeneration, Silas considered the two main tropes of mana use in games and stories.

In one trope people regenerated their mana internally, creating it from nothing over time, or from food, or by converting mental energy, or whatever else. In the other trope people absorbed and converted ambient mana into their personal mana.

Between the two tropes, he felt the second one better fit his situation. His Affinity governed the efficiency at which he could absorb and convert ambient mana for his personal use. The reason he didn't have a flat number to represent his mana regeneration was because his regeneration speed depended on the density of the local ambient mana. If he had more ambient mana to work with, his mana regeneration should go up, and he could keep his laptop summoned indefinitely!

Therefore, it reasoned he needed a skill to attract ambient mana. With that in mind, he focused on the prompt to choose a skill and fed it the idea of what he wanted, something to passively attract ambient mana.

Learn Mana Magnet skill for 1 Skill Points? (Y/N):

He almost said yes, then reconsidered. He needed this skill to keep gaming. Why spend a point when he could leverage his Gaming Necessities skill to help out again?

Skill Gaming Necessities reached Level 12! +1 XP! Skill Gained: Mana Magnet! +1 XP! +1 Will!

Perfect. Now to let the skill do its thing.

Without anything better to do, he dismissed his table and chair, then summoned another gaming necessity, the recliner. The recliner appeared old and frayed, cloth not leather, but it held his weight without more than a squeaky complaint and even reclined fully back to a resting position after some percussive maintenance.

He produced the empty bottle from his Inventory, then practiced having it appear in either hand, then on top of his knee and elsewhere on his body according to his will—his Will, perhaps—as he queried the Skill prompt for possible skills, thinking over his next steps as his mana slowly regenerated.

1:30 AM - (13d 26h) - M: 04/10 (-2)(10% eff.)

Before he knew it an hour had passed while his mana regenerated two points.

Mana Magnet for the win! Self-sufficient gaming was a go! He chose…wisely.

To set down his laptop beside the recliner he summoned a table, appearing rickety with a flimsy black metal frame, but it would do. He liked having the laptop nearby, to take notes as the fancy struck. Plus, without it his cell grew quite dark.

Inventory had rocketed up to 9 while he played with the skill. Fiddling around with Interface had done the same. Mana Magnet had even increased by one all on its own. All together his skills net him three XP short of Level 7, so he spent more time playing with the skill, pushing it for three more level ups.

To celebrate reaching Level 7 he summoned himself another pizza, aiming for pepperoni and bacon yet getting ham and anchovies. He took a bite then tossed the box to the side and tried again, plain cheese being easier to visualize it seemed.

Next time he'd work on picturing the pizza hot and fresh too.

[Status] Name: Silas Aegis Dircks Age: 11y 3s 13d 26h Level: 7 (57/84 XP) H: 11/11 (15/day rest) S: 11/11 (15/min rest) M: 01/09 (-3)(10% eff.) AP: 7 STR: 08 WIL: 15 AGI: 10 WIT: 16 END: 11 SPI: 12 VIT: 15 AFF: 10 PER: 14 CHA: 09 SP: 6 Interface 9 Gaming Necessities 15 Gaming 19 Inventory 9 Mana Magnet 2

Finally things were going right for Silas. He had his laptop. He had pizza. He had peace and…relative quiet.

He'd see about conjuring some headphones next. He recalled a five dollar pair which lasted him most of middle school. His skill could probably manage a pair like them.

All in all, life was pretty good.

Himel patrolled the western cell block, the progress of his early morning route announced by the jangling set of keys at his waist. The keys were a decoy, the real key hanging from a necklace hidden under his tabard. Better to keep it there when he didn't have business with any particular prisoner, as he rarely had reason to open a cell door and a mana collar didn't do much to subdue alleyborn vermin, sticky fingered the lot of them—some more literally than others.

The echoing jangle helped to quiet the prisoners. Most learned early in life to respect the Guard. Just the sound of his keys approaching would let the trash know it was time to present themselves for morning inspection. He was to note if any of the scum had died during the night and toss each their daily ration of a Succor biscuit. Layabouts who required assistance waking got half rations. Hunger taught even the dumbest pup to obey orders. Going hungry for a day or two might teach more respect for the Guard, but the ones down here could handle a day or two of hunger. Their type learned to live off scraps and Succor biscuits before they could walk.

The jailed would stay in their cells until the Judge found time to determine their level of guilt and hand down an appropriate sentence, usually deferring to the Justicar who handled the case, trusting their first-hand grasp of the events which led to an arrest. The wrongdoers would be issued fines and those who could pay would do so and be on their way, while those who couldn't would be put to work in order to pay off their debt to society. Harvest was in half a quarter, so the Judge had slowed down his case load in order for the cells to fill. Before long the entire block would be bursting. Himel couldn't wait for Harvest. This was the worst time of the year for him.

Usually at least one or two miscreants needed to be put in their place, yet this morning the lot seemed quite subdued, many showing signs of a sleepless night in the bags under their eyes and pale complexions, not that Himel particularly cared why. At this rate maybe he'd get through his morning rounds fast enough to catch a bite at that new pastry shop near the Guardhouse before they ran out of those deliciously sticky fried dough rings.

He walked at a steady pace, never needing to stop, making eye contact with each inhabitant before adroitly tossing them a biscuit through the bars of their cell. Most caught their morning delivery. Those who didn't would be better prepared tomorrow.

Towards the end of his route something felt off—smelled off. To confirm he shifted to his Bonded form, having Bonded an armored bear from up the mountain, the captured beast being the best his parents could afford without signing their tailoring shop over to some major guild, and Himel's future with it. Thankfully the Bond manifested for him with a hybrid form, taking on the best aspects of the armored bear, the combination of a powerful defensive frame and heightened senses. Thanks to his Bond he was able to unlock several good defensive skills with ease, earning him his place in the Guard.

If only he could better control Grodar when summoned, maybe he wouldn't be stuck patrolling the cells. That bear was just too stupid. He never listened. Not every person within ten spans of Himel was a threat in need of mauling. People said control would happen in time, but he was sick of his tripping post.

He needed the Animal Handling skill, but clearly wasn't able to learn it on his own, despite it often coming easy to those with animal Bonds. He'd need to hire a trainer, yet couldn't afford one on his salary. Once he earned his promotion it would be a different story, but he wouldn't get the promotion until he could control Grodar, thus the trainer had to come first.

A loan would almost certainly solve his problem, but the bank lenders thought him too much a risk. Unfortunately he had nothing of worth for collateral to convince them otherwise. As for the other option—Himel shuddered. He wasn't that desperate, not to mention if the Captain learned of it he'd lose his job, and then he'd tripping sure wind up in silk.

For the moment, however, Himel needed to figure out why something coming from one of the cells smelled so…appetizing.

Bread, cheese, a tantalizing aroma of salted fish, and some sauce with a hint of scintillating spices he couldn't identify.

He ignored the frustrated shouts of a few vermin as he hurried towards the mouth-watering aroma, only slowing down as eerie music reached his ears. Something must be very wrong. Prisoners didn't eat like that, not here. Any storage items would have been confiscated, and the prisoners were collared besides. And what was that music? A recording from some ghostly orchestra? Who would choose to listen to such haunting tones?

Maybe a visitor had come in the night—he hadn't exactly checked over the logs—but no one in this wing ever had visitors. Those who might be of higher importance, someone who might have Bonded a storage item or something else which allowed them to conjure food on demand, were kept on the ground floor with its moderately better accommodations and constant surveillance, as it wouldn't do to disgrace or ignore those certain to return to society as soon as they paid the appropriate fine for their transgressions.

Himel stood dumbfounded once he found the appropriate cell.

An oddly dressed young man, the silhouette of what seemed a bat on the chest of his masked cloth outfit, slept on actual furniture, some old cushioned chair in a hideous shade of green. A flat box made of something like thick paper sat open on his chest, half a glorious disk of cheese and sauce covered bread still within the box. The fishy smells driving him to distraction came from a similar box on the ground which remained closed.

Most bewildering, a strange, glossy black object with glowing red sigils covering the inner horizontal surface sat on a raised table as a cube of shifting colors spun, trapped within the inner vertical glass surface of the thing while the tinny, haunting music emanated from lumps at the end of some thin black cord coiled beside it.

There was something more, on the edge of his senses, like a wild, uncontrollable beast hid somewhere just out of sight. Probably that strange device, whatever it was. Some kind of artifact? How the kid even had it in his cell was beyond Himel, and his paygrade.

Whatever the kid's story, it wasn't Himel's problem, nor his job. He could see the kid breathing, and he obviously had food.

If Himel was a few years less experienced he might have tried to confiscate the food to get a taste, but the whole situation stank of political games he wanted no part of. Whatever young scion had ended up in the cell block meant for those to be held until Harvest would be best left alone until his time for Judgment came.

Himel hurried away hungrier than ever, trying to think what he would say if the baker's daughter ran the counter today. A little too thick for his tastes, but if he could eat her cooking every day, well, he had a little extra padding himself, didn't he? Who was he to judge?

Intermittent dragging noises woke Silas.

Scrape, scrape. Chitter. Scrape, chitter. Scrape.

He looked down to find a pair of rats bigger than any cat, each tugging on their own pizza box using heavily yellowed teeth, dragging their prizes towards the gap below his cell door of metal bars.

Both froze as he shifted, the recliner creaking beneath him.

He stared at the rats of dire size.

They stared back.

"Well go on," he finally said with a wave. "Not like I would eat either one, now."

As if they understood, the two rats quickly worked together to push each box vertically through the bars of his cell, where a waiting dozen or so smaller rats used their backs to help carry off their stolen feast.

Silas watched the empty hallway for a minute before deciding he needed a shower. He couldn't possibly start his day of gaming without one. He dismissed everything else in his cell and focused on the idea of a shower.

He conjured a perfectly adequate handheld sprayer attached to a tank with a hand pump for the pressure. The water wasn't hot, but warm water was comfort enough in his cold stone cell.

After he washed using a store brand soap-shampoo combo and gargled with off-brand mouthwash, he toweled off and donned a whole outfit, successfully conceptualizing the black boxer-briefs, black shorts, black slippers, and red shirt with a Flash logo on the chest as one unit of clothing, already upon his person. Sitting down on a blue beanbag chair he managed a hot, if slightly burnt, breakfast burrito for breakfast, eating it while considering his next steps.

He had played deep into the—he might as well call it night, without any other frame of reference—getting into a rhythm where he conjured something random with Gaming Necessities while seeing how far he could push the skill, then stored the thing in his Inventory, then tried to create an image of the thing with his Interface, before removing the item from Inventory and dismissing it, starting over. All of this while managing and defending his crops in Sundew Valley. He needed to get Grandma's approval so she would give him that last Sundrop, allowing him to finally unlock the endgame content.

His skill grinding seemingly plateaued, however. Interface, Gaming Necessities, and Inventory had capped out at 19, matching Gaming which refused to improve. Silas had been gaming his whole life. It seemed odd the skills were considered at the same level. Pushing his various skills had helped his mental stats, Will and Wit, at least, earning a point in each during the training.

He'd slept for eleven hours, having stayed up long enough to watch the day on his age counter roll over after the thirtieth hour. Thirty hour days somewhat explained his reported age. Later he'd whip up a spreadsheet to figure out how many days were in the local year.

While he slept Mana Magnet continued to do its thing, it seemed. Not only had it also climbed and stayed at 19 as it continued to attract mana to him, his Spirit and Affinity rose to 19 as well. Apparently keeping his laptop out, draining mana, acted as a constant workout for his mana muscles.

In the short time while he ate breakfast, his mana already regenerated back two of the four points he'd used for his morning rituals. Mana Magnet certainly lived up to its name.

Silas pulled up his full status, wanting to see if he missed anything before putting his nose to the grindstone. Unlike Mana Magnet, his Gaming skill wasn't going to level itself.

[Status] Silas Aegis Dircks 11y 3s 14d 12h L8 (95/120 XP) H: 11/11 (15/day rest) S: 11/11 (15/min rest) M: 16/16 (-3) (19% eff.) AP: 8 STR: 08 WIL: 16 AGI: 10 WIT: 17 END: 11 SPI: 19 VIT: 15 AFF: 19 PER: 14 CHA: 09 SP: 7 Gaming 19 Gaming Necessities 19 Interface 19 Inventory 19 Mana Magnet 19