The office was on the 42nd floor. It reminded Corn of an operating theatre. The man behind the desk wore a burgundy suit and had skin whiter than torchlight. His lips smiled, but his pitch black eyes were expressionless.

“Yeah, I can remove a Race counter for you,” said the man.

“What’s your price?” asked Corn.

The man’s smile grew wider. “I get to keep your Race counter.”

Corn sucked in his breath. The price of a Race counter was at least 6 digits according to the Border Reserves.

“I don’t know what this young lady has said, but becoming a Chaotic Race is bit more complicated. First of all, species are based on your first Stat and you can only have one Stat. Secondly, you must have at least 10 points in your chosen Stat. If you don’t meet those requirements you become feral.”

“Feral?”

“You lose your mind. The city will issue someone to end you.”

After a few more questions, Corn and the succubus left.

“I kept my end of the deal. Now it’s your turn,” said the succubus.

The two of them choose a corner of a bar.

Pleasure flowed like water. It snaked its way through every nook and cranny of his 4 foot body until it exploded his nerves into a dull bliss. This wasn’t the usual grind fest that Corn was used.

It felt like love. For five minutes.

The succubus’ breasts spilled over on his arm. “You have a whole lot of vitality,” she murmured and dozed off.

Corn lay next to her. He could still feel whispers of bliss but there was a growing emptiness that left him tired and feeling that he could never look at a woman again.

It took him half an hour to recover enough energy to dress and slip out of the bar.

Time Remaining: 10 days 23 hours

Stats: 8/20

The bar this time was not as seedy. Firstly, the bar was run by a dwarven community. Free discounts for dwarves, so Corn was chugging beer from a wooden mug. Secondly, this was not a trap. Corn was fresh out of ideas. He had racked his brain to no end, but he couldn’t figure out how to get those 2 Stats.

Only one method was left. It would be almost suicidal; and while Corn prided himself in being a risk taker, he knew the chances were not in his favor. But there was no alternative, hence the beer.

The doorbell tinkled and Corn saw the heads of patrons turn to see the visitor. A dwarfish maiden sitting next to Corn blushed.

The visitor sat next to Corn and said, “Hi.”

He wore a loose shirt and slacks of a red and blue floral theme. His skin was soft and smooth. It was the color of fresh pomegranates and smelt like rose and basil. His lips were soft and his teeth a brilliant white as he smiled. And his eyes. Oh, his eyes. His dark orange irises held worlds inside…

‘Wait a minute! Hold on! I’m not gay.’

He giggled, his laughter twinkled in the air-

‘I said hold-the-fuck on!’

The attraction subsided, but he could feel it vaguely on the edge of his mind.

Noticing the star struck looks of the other patrons, he shouted at the visitor, “Stop it!”

It was gone. Now he looked like an ordinary guy. ‘Ugly and repulsive’ guy added Corn just for good measure. The crowd turned back to their own business.

“You felt that?” asked the nymph. “With your aura there’s no way you felt that.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are? Go screw yourself!” shouted Corn banging his mug on the counter.

Reading the mood, the nymph held his hands up in a supplicating gesture. He stood up and slid a white embossed card to Corn. “If you ever need anything,” he said and walked out.

Corn wanted to stew in his anger for a while. He, of all people, despised mind intrusion. But he knew realistically that this bullshit was leagues better than the insane mind invasion that came with being a Base slave.

“Wait.”

The nymph turned and smiled (most disgustingly). He sat down next to Corn. “Hi, I’m KnotTea, call me Knot.”

“No more of that mind bullshit.”

The nymph held up his hands, “No more Charisma, my word.”

“I’m looking for information: an honest conversation with a Mage. Just for an hour.”

“Hmmm. That is tricky.” He sat there drumming his fingers on the wooden counter.

“It’s tricky, but it can be done, Corn.”

“How do you know my name?”

“Rue, didn’t tell you?”

“Rue who?”

“She’s human; a genius at Endurance and works in the Guard. Tallish for a human and with a pixie cut?”

Corn remembered. It was the officer who he helped to save the dwarves and who cleared his Fish Badge quest.

“And what do the two of you get from all of this?”

“Do you find it hard to increase your Stats? Do you know how to utilise your Stats or even know which equipment to use? You’re not the only one facing these kind of problems. We operate a small mercenary guild plus shop that operates as a jack of all trades. Are you interested?”

“There are dojos and guilds for that, no?”

“Well, they are very linear in their thinking. One guild focuses on one Stat. Besides, it’s a large organisation, they are only going to give you proper techniques and weapons by 25. At that age your Stats stop growing. And they only choose the powerful and rich.

We’re a small organisation and we believe in integrating Stats. There might be a lot more work, but there’s way more opportunity.”

“So, if you help me with my Stats, I have to join your guild?

“You don’t have to. More like you owe as a favour and, by the way, I do know how to find you.”

“Deal.”

The very next day Corn found himself in an industrial area. This wasn’t the crowded, unfinished kind he was used to but the posh, spacious and certainly expensive kind. A tall badger kin opened the door. Seeing Knot, he smiled gleefully. But after finding Corn with him, his expression crumpled.

“No visitors allowed,” said the badger kin.

Knot waved, “Hi Tow. That’s a wonderful suit. Treating someone special, huh?”

“I do look good, don’t I? Come inside.”

‘Wow, Charisma sure is powerful, because that is an awful suit,’ thought Corn to himself.

They nymph grinned conspiratorially, guessing what was on his mind. “Relax. Your aura is of the darkness type. It’s very hard to influence.”

“You tried yesterday.”

“Yes, ‘tried’. The type of aura varies individually but I couldn’t actually influence you, could I?”

Feeling somewhat mollified but still keeping his guard up, Corn walked with him to the large visitor’s room.

“You’re screwed,” said Tow to Corn.

“So I’ve been told, but why?”

“You do understand what power and control are? Good. People have inherently lower control for Magic. It’s true for all the upper four, but especially for Magic.”

“How low?”

“If I go and check mine, I’m only going to see 0%. That’s why no one ever takes Magic first. They take other Stats and build them up and as a consequence the power of Magic builds up to an amount you can use, even with a low control. I had to take 3 other Stats before I could become a Mage.”

“Someone’s talented,” said Knot.

“And rich. What’s the value of your Magic? 0? Even if it’s not, can you even produce mana?”

“No,” replied Corn, “but if I had a wand?”

“Doesn’t matter. You can’t use a wand, if you can’t produce mana. Wands work only if you pour in your raw mana inside them.”

“What about bloodlines?” asked Knot. “Don’t look at me like that. They exist. Those with them have better control, have higher growth rates, and tend to be better looking.”

“There are no bloodlines for Magic. There haven’t been any for centuries.”

The preparations were done. To be frank, if he didn’t have this time limit hanging over his head, he wouldn’t go this far. He knew, with time, his Stat would grow naturally easily increasing over 20. Maybe not enough to let him produce mana, as the badger kin had enlightened him, but enough to get this quest over.

But he did have a time limit.

One that would end soon. In theory, all his growth till now had been using the ambient mana of cubes, wands and the like to mould his circuits. The problem was that this ambient mana was insufficient to affect his circuits. So he needed something bigger, with more mana flowing through it and more ambient mana leaking out. No way was he gaining access to something man made of that capacity.

It would have to be natural.

He followed the crew on the empty plains. This time, he wore no armor but carried a camera mounted with all kinds of sensors. He touched the safety box, that he lifted from his old company, in his pocket to remind himself of his mission.

“There it is,” announced their leader, a giant with a potbelly large enough to house two Corns.

It was a bizarre blue and ochre. The ochre parts blended into the sky which itself was a yellow brown. The mana storm looked small, or so Corn thought. It remained the same size no matter how much they walked towards it.

Until it exploded.

“It’s unstable. The anterior whirlpool hasn’t enough force to hold it together. It’ll break in..”

The giant consulted the devices floating around him and the huge chart with lines that shifted and squiggled.

The storm didn’t wait for his estimations. The swish and roar of water tearing apart earth, along with a deafening crunch, filled the air. All around them were waves of water in the sky and brown earth twisting and shapeshifting to dance among the sea in the sky.

The giant encased Corn in a barrier and threw him to the closest point of the storm.

A guinea pig that’s what he was. But it was still the better of his options. He tossed away the equipment.

Corn could only feel mana. All his other senses were forgotten. His intricate circuits, painstakingly built up, were blown away like strands of cobwebs in the wind. His spine froze, the base of his circuits going numb until it reached the base of his skull. Then the sensation switched, numbness turned into searing pain. It felt like the back of his head was being drowned by the ambient mana of the storm.

He could feel his mana being corrupted by the mana from the storm. So he fought. His circuits could channel mana, in his case ambient mana, but this had no effect on the real world or even his body. No matter the number of circuits, only when the mana was released did it have any effect.

He warred for control over the mana. Clutching a tiny portion and tearing it from the base of his skull, bypassing the frozen base of his spine, all the way through his left arm until it burst from his hand. A mini geyser of earth and water shot forth. Success!

The ambient mana from the storm in his body softened its attack.

But the murky mana would not stop gushing forth.

He tried breaking the connection, but failed. The mana flow was uncontrollable. The mere sensation of burning caused by routing ambient mana through his body became physical damage as the murky mana scrapped his skin and bent his fingers.

In a way, it was embarrassing. It felt like he was pissing through his hand. And he couldn’t stop.

Time to end it.

He took out the safety box, unscrewed the red button and pressed the metal surface.

The world faded to black…

Nope he was still alive.

He banged it and pressed it again.

It wasn’t working?!

The mana storm smashed into the barrier, leaving a spider web of cracks.

He slipped a thin blade out of his back pocket and plunged it into his chest, aiming for his heart.

The storm battered his barrier and broke it. Shit, he wasn’t dying fast enough!

The whirling mana headed straight towards him. “Die, die,” he screamed.

The world faded to black.

Time Remaining: 7 days 15 hours

Stats: ?/20