His friend gazed at him thoughtfully. “Blood magic let’s me sense your potency better than the bullshit interface skill our… associate was using to get a read on you. Are you truly still 9th level? Or is our master’s left-hand man being thrown off by an obfuscation spell of some sort?”

Eric’s smile was all teeth. “Still 9th level Basic Conscript, my friend. And whoever wants to challenge me will get find out just how much juice I managed to pack into each and every one of those levels.”

Morelekai nodded. “The reason why I ask, Eric, is because you’re radiating potency pretty damn close to the Guildheads who stopped by to pay their respects to Master Grim earlier this evening.”

Eric paused at this, recalling his own calculations regarding average point totals that both a typical adventurer who hit level 30 the hard way in a Standard class after 14 levels as a conscript and a talented natural who jumped into an Advanced class after just ten levels of as a Conscript. No doubt the latter was actually more common than the former, since privilege and power beat the crap out of hard work when the non-elite tended to die. But if he were to add his Perception to his being nearly 150 points above a straight ten baseline in his physical stats… then yes, if anything he was well over the 170 mark, which was where an Advanced Level 30 guild master would roughly be at.

Even discounting Perception all together, his physical stats still put him about 5 levels above a 122 point Standard Warrior who got to level 30 the hard way.

“I guess I am,” Eric admitted at last, refusing to shirk away from Morlekai’s crimson gaze.

His friend’s look oscillated between relief, admiration, and desperate hot envy.

Fortunately, he settled on the smile Eric would expect from a friend. “That’s damn impressive, Eric. Damn impressive. In fact, it’s a blessing.”

“How so?”

Morlekai grinned. “What would you say if I told you there was a rift leading to a very special garden, with very, very special fruit. Think forbidden fruit fused with Spiritual energy any xianxia hero would love to get their hands on. All one needs to do is dare a rift leading to foes just as fearsome as the rewards. Only problem is, not everyone can join the party.”

Eric blinked. “This is beginning to sound like a cultivation progression novel. Not sure how well that translates into our System generated classes or our power leveling paradigm... but sure.”

“And you’re right about that,” Morlekai allowed. “This portal does seem to be geared for those on a Cultivation path, which most races seem to consider distinctly different from those who follow a System sanctioned Ascension path. But wonder of wonders… master’s left-hand man also pinged you for a Cultivator.”

Eric blinked and stopped, staring at his friends for long moments before bursting out in laughter.

“Are you serious right now? I mean, for real?”

Drake was gazing at Eric with an odd mixture of awe and envy. “Damn, Eric. You really do have a touch of everything, don’t you?”

“Twenty percent, Drake!” Eric snapped. “I have a 20% Novice score in what the System declared to be an ‘Unformed Trash Tier technique!’ That’s the equivalent of Rank 1! Only reason why I have anything is because it’s infused with the Essence of Fire. But honestly, all I do is visualize purifying the gunk in the air with a searing hot flame inside my lungs when I do my mom’s old yoga tape breathing exercises, and pretend I’m actually cultivating. It’s bullshit. Do you get me? Save for scaring off one fucking lich trying to mind-rape me back when I closed that rift, Morlekai, it isn’t actually good for anything save helping me to relax and focus and not give in to fucking panic attacks!”

Morlekai’s gaze hardened. “So whatever you have… it was strong enough to fight off that lich.”

Eric rolled his eyes. “I just told you, I was doing some basic yoga breathing exercise and throwing in a bit of colorful imagery, because who doesn’t want to pretend they’re a mystic badass to keep themselves sane when fighting for their lives in sewers without end while rotting undead were trying to overwhelm us? It was a power of delusion, Morlekai. That’s it!”

“Eric?”

“Yes, Morlekai?”

“Does the interface show you as having a cultivation technique or not?”

Eric grit his teeth. “Yes,” he finally conceded.

Morlekai nodded. “Good. Then as long as you haven’t chosen anything beyond Basic Conscript, you’re Arcane resonance isn’t enough to disrupt the portal.”

Eric blinked. “Wait… so this is all about having me jump through a portal and steal some mystic fruit from some spiritual garden, while doing my best not to get eaten by spirit beasts? Is that about right?”

“That’s the first half of it,” his friend admitted.

Eric blinked, gazing at his friend for long moments before cracking a bemused smile. “Just like a freekin’ cultivation novel. Alright, what else is involved?”

Morlekai’s features took on a thoughtful expression as Eric found his eyes dancing from gilded ceiling to the grand portraits and landscapes lining the walls as they continued down the corridor, truly feeling like he was in a museum.

“Master Grim sent one of his most promising students along with a quartet of hired adventurers a handful of days back. He should have arrived there at about the time we returned. We're pretty sure he's eligible for the Necromancer Profession, but avoided the Pod altogether.” His friend snorted. “Old fashioned as he is, he’s a power gamer and a completionist like you at heart, Eric. His goal was to master all off Grim's lessons in an attempt to immediately be eligible for a dual class Profession/Class option, without having to waste ten levels earning half the power he otherwise would as a Conscript. In addition to the quick mastery of the esoteric that daring a pocket realm should have provided him, he's a talented student of Grim's. He was supposed to play a key role in helping our master's bodyguards secure at least a few of the prizes trapped within that realm. Prizes that are absolutely priceless for folk who walk the paths that we do."

Eric whistled. “Wow. So with that one statement, we now know that Necromancy is both a Class and a Profession, and that you can power up your Necromantic bonuses by picking both. And if you’re willing to go whole-hog, maybe even avoid the Conscript trap altogether. I wonder if that’s why goblins hate Necromancers and Bloodmages? The very fact that the System has problems incorporating our own heritage classes, or perhaps it’s forced to make concessions for unorthodox race-specific arts, means that the best of us to might get an edge on the elites who are so used to lording it over the ignorant noobs of newly claimed worlds.”

Drake snorted. “Yeah, that sounds about right to me. The way the green-skins looked at our House when first we arrived, I’m surprised they didn’t try to burn us out. I guess that’s one reason why Master Grim has us surrounded by enchanted granite. And now they’re willing to sell us a whole library?”

Eric gazed at his friend for long moments. For all that Drake liked playing the goofy jock, he was clearly no fool.

“Exactly,” Morlekai added. “They’re selling us a library for a fucking ton of gold. Making out like bandits, feeding off our desperation. As far as I’m concerned, this is par for the course, and I’m far more willing to trust a competitor who’s motives I can understand than a good Samaritan's kindness out of nowhere.” He gazed at Eric and flashed an oddly apologetic smile. “Present company excluded, of course.”

Eric smirked. “I really threw you for a loop there, didn’t I? Maybe that was my motivation. The shocked look on your faces when I saved your asses just for the paladin-like joy of seeing the hottest girl in the Underdark gaze at me with a desperate hunger I’d never quench.”

Drake snorted. “Ooh, Alice is going to get you with that one, Eric. Better be careful, or she’ll have you wrapped around her finger so bad no one else can even compare.”

Eric grinned as his friend sighed somewhat theatrically. “So now that Louie and her are official...”

Drake flashed a positively wicked grin. “Oh, no worries there, brother. I couldn’t ask for sweeter bliss. We all know who the father is, and Alice needs all the mojo she can get, to keep her and little Junior happy and well fed.”

Eric blinked. “You mean...”

“Of course!” Drake said with a certain amount of pride. “I love them too much not to do my part for the family. And me and Louie have a good relationship with the Silver Shield Guild, on an informal basis, mind you, so once we’re drained dry of Potency and Alice is glowing with vigor, we grind some floors with their crews in one of the rifts, all without aging a single day. But don’t worry, even though the are impossible to map, the beasty level of the shallower area around the rift entrance is about ten, and only gets deadlier the farther in you explore, going all the way up to about level 20 critters or so.

“So though it’s perilous for newbloods, decently-leveled teams of adventurers really can make a stable, semi-safe living doing it, assuming they have the levels, experience, and teamwork.”

His friend gave Eric’s shoulder a friendly pat. “When you think about it, it’s really no worse than the sewers, so long as we have a decent sized party. Silver Shields is a second tier Guild, but they specialize in the tactics needed to master rifts with unlimited room for everyone. Our survival rate is just as good as the elites who have their delves all mapped out, because James is serious about disciplined bands, and always going out in groups of five or more! I mean Sure, the loot drops are terrible, but the experience is decent, and that and improving our bardiche and one handed weapon and shield skills is all we care about.”

Drake flashed a pleased smile. “When you think about it, Alice is doing us a huge favor! This way, we can get all the training we need to hit Journeyman in multiple weapons without bloating up our long term potential with Basic Conscript levels that give only a fraction of the points we’ll get as a standard Classers when we finally qualify!”

Eric gazed at his friend for long moments before forcing a nod and smile. “Sure, man. I guess that does make sense. If you guys are happy, I’m happy for you. Now, about this suicidal mission you guys want me to take on...”

“Samuel’s body is mortal. That’s the downside,” Morlekai conceded. “But because of that mortality, he could slip through the gate without any problem, and the warding artifacts Master Grim forged should work far better for him than for any of us. Far less potency to hide. But seeing as he sent no word, and the mercenaries, who should have at least sent a message updating us as to the status of the rift and Samuel have sent nothing back, we can only surmize that the rift denizens got to him, or that the nearby orc clan captured or killed them as they made their way to the rift. Best case scenario is that the orcs hit our mercs, but Samuel is safe inside, and knows better than to leave with those pig-faced bastards now infesting that formerly neutral territory.”

“Like you said, that’s a best case scenario.,” Eric coolly noted. “He’s mortal. If he took even the smallest injury while he was in there, he could be burning up with a fever even now. Hell, he could very well be dead already.”

Morlekai nodded. “You got it, which is why we’re on a time crunch, my friend. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to enter the rift, make a good faith effort to find Samuel Orwell, and bring him back alive. Major points if you can also manage to pick some of that mystic fruit we're after, or save the escort, assuming any survived.” His friend’s gaze grew oddly intent. “But be careful, Eric. Samuel had some highly sophisticated technique involving mystic hands and undead servants he was planning on using to assist his harvest. According to rumor, someone who’s not a natural cultivator trying to claim that fruit is a death sentence.”

Eric frowned, not liking this last twist. “Wait… so only cultivators can pluck this fruit?”

“Yup, if Sam's harvesting tricks fail to work," Drake said with a grin. "But anyone can eat it, if it’s gifted to them. It’s supposed to infuse them with juice far sweeter than any varsity football cocktail. Right boss?”

Morlekai nodded before gazing intently Eric’s way. “More or less. Whether or not it actually does a non cultivator any good in terms of boosting their physical prowess is unknown. But every hint we’ve been able to glean makes it clear that it will infuse the fires of anyone’s soul with the essence of life itself. Far beyond that which we were born with. Do you understand what that means, Eric?”

Eric’s eyes widened, feeling a sudden jolt of hope with those words.

He was well aware that Morlekai already knew his deepest regret, had known just what to say to reel him in, and he couldn’t care less.

He had done his best to accept the loss of almost 22 years of his life, messing with deadly magics he had no business fucking with, even if his stupid daring had saved lives and opened a path to power before him that could conceivably make him a titan among men, despite his level. Assuming he survived single-handedly taking out multiple territories. Of course, he had planned on doing everything he could to raise his Vitality to absolutely absurd levels and savor every moment he had left, hoping it would buy him many extra decades of life. But even if it didn’t work that way, even if the System refused to budge and treated racial mortality averages as an inescapable death sentence regardless of personal power achieved, he had tried to tell himself that he was at peace with dropping dead in the prime of his life at 65 if he looked and felt like a hero, and he was gone in the blink of an eye.

It was all bullshit, of course. He hoped to live forever, as did anyone his age. But if he died at 65 while still looking and feeling like a young man, he’d have no time for regret. He’d just be gone. No incoming decrepitude, no slow wasting away. Just incredible Strength and Vitality one moment, and out like a light the next.

He had told himself he was at peace with that.

But if there was any chance he could claw those years back… or who knew, maybe add many more years to his life…

“Fuck yes!” Eric cried. “I’m in. What’s next?”

Morlekai took his hand and Eric felt a jolt that filled him with a sense that was equal parts wonder and exhilaration, reminded once more that for all it’s peril and hardships this newly ascended Earth was a source of wonder as well.

Including System quests!

It seemed that his night had just begun.

Congratulations! You have accepted the Quest: Wayward Disciple!

Find and rescue Samuel Orwell for experience boon and improved standing with Necromancer Faction of Freetown!

Additional experience and reputation bonuses can be earned by successfully harvesting Spirit Fruit, or by rescuing any members of the original protection detail!

Your Conquest Interface Map has been updated with location of Hidden Cultivator Rift! Warning: Rift access is limited to Cultivators or Basic Conscripts below Level 10! - Warning! Orc Faction Contenders have expanded into previously neutral territory. Hidden Cultivator Rift is now in hostile territory!