In his excitement to land a paying gig, Silas had greatly overestimated his capability to produce a wide variety of distinct cheeses. During a blind taste test performed by himself, he was unable distinguish between his intended aged extra sharp cheddar, mild cheddar, the other varieties between, and Colby. They all came out tasting like a mild cheddar. He made a decent Swiss. The Muenster seemed a bit bland. The Parmesan was too dry. The Gouda… The less said about the Gouda, the better. The mozzarella was one of his better ones, but he could only do it in sticks.

Five types, after making his stupid spreadsheet.

The others cheeses just wouldn't work. He couldn't summon them. Silas decided it was because he didn't really know what they tasted like. When had he ever sat down to really sample and savor a chunk of blue cheese? Never, that's when. Maybe he could produce a salad with some on it or something, but salad was hardly food fit for gaming. As for cheddar, sure he'd tried a few types, but he had one favorite, and when it came to cheddar he always liked a good mild.

The rats, to no one's surprise, didn't care. They were thrilled to get five new types of cheese and loved them all, especially the mozzarella sticks, probably because they were portioned out for sharing already.

Anyhow, Silas had thought enough about cheese. In one day he had earned far more than whatever had spilled from his carry-on in his brief struggle for his freedom, back on the frightful day when he arrived in this world. Those had been regular gold coins, not the big ones.

Thinking back to that day almost made Silas see red as he was so angry about how he had been disregarded and subsequently treated, but it also reminded him he wasn't in a safe place, for all the peace and quiet he had enjoyed so far.

Not long after the rats left with their first batch of goods that morning, a manbear in armor had slowly walked in front of Silas's cell. There froze Silas, who had been giving himself his morning scrub to wash off the smell of rat. The humanoid bear, his mana notably denser than the rat leader's, stared into Silas's eyes for an uncomfortably long moment, before grunting and throwing a biscuit, of all things, at Silas. A biscuit! The thing was rock hard too, beyond stale, likely months old. They broke eye contact to both look down as the thing thumped against Silas's chest, to bounce off and land on the floor.

Silas raised an eyebrow at his assaulter. The bearman shrugged and casually strolled away.

That interaction left Silas thinking. He'd been thinking so much he couldn't even focus on some simple gathering quests in The Watcher. Finally he gave up and decided to try out a few things, based on what he knew. He couldn't survive in this world by keeping his head in the sand.

He knew he had something called a Soul Bond with his laptop.

He knew this gave him the ability to level up. Leveling up gave him Ability Points, which he had so far disregarded. The idea of altering values which described his very being frightened him more than a little. Watching the numbers go up through his own efforts felt good though. Leveling also rewarded Skill Points, of which he had used one to purchase the best skill ever, Gaming Necessities.

He had eight more Skill Points.

Could he buy eight more Skills as broken as Gaming Necessities? Leveling up new skills would further level him up, giving him more skill points. Rinse, wash, and repeat.

He should only purchase skills unavailable through Gaming Necessities, naturally, which meant he needed to push the skill hard and see what came out. Having queried for various skills by beginning the process of spending his SP, he knew what skills were available and which were not.

Immortality, Invulnerability, any type of immunity, Omniscience, even Limited Omniscience were all unavailable.

He could gain skills for any of a wide variety of what seemed powerful schools of magic, but then he'd have to spend all day training up his magic skills until they became powerful, to the detriment of his gaming skills.

Instead he decided to start with something easy.

Sleeping sucked. He spent around a third of his life sleeping. He needed to not sleep, so he could finish all the games he wanted to play in his lifetime.

Skill Gained: Sleep Resistance! +1 XP!

It wasn't Sleep Immunity, but perhaps one day it could be.

When considering the possible dangers of a magical world, the scariest ones were those he couldn't see coming.

He needed mental protections to guard against those who would impede his gaming through illusion and unwanted influences. He needed spiritual protections against those who would divine his location and impede his gaming time once they found him. He needed magical protection against those who would target him from afar for their foul magics, which would inevitably interrupt his gaming. He needed everyone to leave him alone so he could play games in peace.

He pushed hard on the various concepts, thinking of a certain spell from his tabletop gaming days.

Skill Gained: Obscurity! +1 XP! Will +1 => 18 Will!

He sighed, glad to see it worked, as had his latest Interface tweaks.

Now for the hard stuff.

Magic was cool and all, but depending on magic to keep himself safe felt risky. Even if he could summon an army of indestructible golems, elemental guardians, or whatever else to guard him 24/7—30/whatever—he'd still be physically weak, easy to take out. There were metamagic skills, contingencies and triggers he could set up, barriers and buffs, but it all seemed like too much trouble, too many unknowns which could possibly fail and leave him vulnerable when compared to simply being physically powerful enough to just steamroll through whatever came his way.

Also, he wanted to be ripped.

He needed to be strong enough people would leave him alone so he could just play his games in peace. He had mana, but he needed something to do with it, a way to grow stronger while gaming. A way to channel mana into his body and gain physical strength. He—

Skill Gained: Mana Body! +1 XP!

That…seemed a bit too easy. Maybe the great pasta divinity high above was looking down on him with its giant meatball eyes and smiling its toothless, al dente grin.

Even if he now had a way to improve his body, he didn't have time to waste learning how to fight. He needed to be naturally good at fighting, so he didn't have to waste his gaming time training like some Saiyan.

Skill Gained: Natural Fighter! +1 XP!

Even if he knew how to fight, he needed to predict oncoming danger, a way to know when he might get injured, which would certainly impact his gaming time.

Skill Gained: Intuit Danger! +1 XP! Will +1 => 19 Will!

Apparently he was on a roll.

He needed to be able to react to the danger he sensed or else—

Skill Gained: Instinctive Reflexes! +1 XP!

He needed to be able to—

Skill Gained: Rapid Regeneration! +1 XP!

He needed better—

Skill Gained: Spatial Perception! +1 XP!

He needed a—

Skill Gained: Mana Constructs! +1 XP!

What even? No. He needed—

Skill Gained: Hero's Refuge! +1 XP!

What—

Skill Gained: Eyes of the Gamer! +1 XP!

Was—

Skill Gained: Countdown to the End! +1 XP!

…Hmm.

…Help?

Learn Help skill for 1 Skill Point? (Y/N)

And waste a skill point!? Hah!

Silas needed the Help skill, because otherwise he would spend too much time obsessing over those last few skills, instead of gaming.

…Nothing?

He sighed and bought the skill.

Skill Gained: Help! +1 XP!

Not needing any help to use the Help skill, he focused on his most ominous sounding skill.

Countdown to the End Unless you take action, you and every other person in 100 leagues are fated to die during the dungeon escape in five days, when the Black Dragon Syndicate dominates the skies once more. Shatter the chains of fate, Hero.

So helpful.

Dungeon escape When too long passes without the majority of a dungeon being unmade and reforged, the denizens of the dungeon become unbound, able to pass its barriers. Black Dragon Syndicate A syndicate of twelve ancient black dragons, currently bound within a dungeon.

A hundred leagues… He could probably make it that far in five days, right?

What was he supposed to do with a bunch of level one skills, from his jail cell?

The headmaster rubbed his temples. His day had been bad before, and now… "Say that again, Legent."

"Cor wanted to kill him, so I—"

"No, no. The book, boy, the book! Where did you find it?"

"Nive said he found it in the section on summoning spirits and fairies and the like. We didn't think—"

"Clearly," the old man said in a dry tone, feeling older with every passing moment.

"It said we could summon a genie," the boy muttered again. "I don't understand what happened."

The headmaster sighed. "One doesn't summon djinn. They exist bound to objects which resist such spells. And even if you managed to summon one…" After another long sigh he continued, "Now tell me exactly what ingredients you used—better yet, bring me the book and—"

The boy muttered a string of sentences together. The aging man hoped he heard wrong.

"Speak up, Legent."

"I said I put it out with the trash. In the fancy bag that guy had. And some gold, as an apology. Thought maybe he'd want to know what we'd done. Maybe undo it or something. Nive's body was all— I had to get him out of there, and separate Cor from Pab so they didn't kill each other, and I… I…"

The headmaster rubbed his temples as the boy broke down in tears for the fourth time in the past half hour.

"You threw away the book. And your gold. And his bag." He took a deep breath. "And this young man who appeared in the circle, you threw him away too?"

The ignorant child shrugged and wiped his face with a well-soiled cloth. "Needed him gone. Beyond the grounds. Cor wanted to kill him, and I couldn't keep them all time-locked forever. And he—the one we summoned—well, I thought it would be better if he just went away. So I shoved him and his bag in the outside bin, by the garden? But now Nive's father keeps asking where he is and I don't know what to tell him."

With a sigh, the headmaster said, "Write down everything you can remember about the ritual, everything you all did before, during, and after. Everything that was touched. The state of the room. The time of day. Every fact and action you can account for. Then, I want no less than fifty pages on why you did what you did, when you realized it was a bad idea, what steps you should have taken, what you think you did wrong, and what you think you did right. Before that, fetch me Cormont and Pabvur, and tell them to bring plenty paper, on the double."

The Captain rubbed his temples. His day had been bad before, and now… "You pulled me out of that meeting over a little rat problem?"

They both ignored the fact the Captain asked to be pulled from the meeting if it ran long.

"Big rat problem, Sir. Tripping big rats. Cat and dog sized rats. Sighted by no less than three of our informants, confirmed by truth stones. They're stealing cheese from the gods know where and rolling it down our halls as bold as you please. Other boxed goods, too."

"Even if rats are stealing from our larder—"

"Not from our larder, those new wards are holding strong. Checked them myself, Sir." At his Captain's glare, his aide continued, "But no, sir. I didn't pull you from your meeting over some rats. The rats, the surprisingly well-organized rats are just a symptom. It's a new dungeon. Had a couple fellas from the Cartographers' Guild out to confirm with their specialized equipment. Mana density hereabouts is way up. Has to be a dungeon. And with those rats—"

The Captain sighed. "It's already burst."

The aide nodded.

"I suppose we should be thankful it's only a few rats we have to deal with. Things could be worse."

"Indeed, Sir. Now we just have to find the tripping thing."

"Tell the men to immediately report any anomalies."

"Already done, sir. Have a report ready for your signature before a runner takes it to the palace, too, Sir."

"What would I do without you, Tollins?"

"I expect you'd still be exchanging insults with the headmaster, Sir."

"He wants me to just let a thief go, not to mention wiping the records from our logs, Tollins."

"Man must have a good reason. Sir."

"No doubt. And when he shares his reasons, maybe we can work something out. But I'm not about to let some unknown thief walk from my jail and escape Judgment without some powerful reasons."

"Golden reasons, Sir?"

"The way he is acting? Platinum. He'd have gone over my head to the palace if this was a Mithril issue. It can't be Adamantine. The guy wouldn't still be here with that kind of backing. I'm going back in. If you can still hear us through the door in thirty minutes, bring in some tea, would you? My throat can't take such rough treatment these days, Tollins."

"Your mother told me something similar last night, Sir," said the aide, looking serious as ever.

The Captain snorted as he stood up. Tollins always knew when he needed a laugh. He left his office shaking his head, still laughing.

Status Silas D. Aegis 11y 3s 16d 10h L9 (150/165 XP) H: 11/11 (15/day rest) S: 11/11 (15/min rest) M: 16/16 (-3) (19% eff.) AP: 9 STR: 08 WIL: 19 AGI: 10 WIT: 18 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 Mana Sense 19 Universal Translator 19 Bargaining 4 Countdown to the End 1 Eyes of the Gamer 1 Help 1 Hero's Refuge 1 Instinctive Reflexes 1 Intuit Danger 1 Mana Body 1 Mana Constructs 1 Natural Fighter 1 Obscurity 1 Rapid Regeneration 1 Sleep Resistance 1 Spatial Perception 1