Mike and Creeanth entered the clearing that had been created when Mike had power level Hardened Skin by cutting down trees almost 6 months earlier. Under the guidance of the gardeners, lush foliage now dotted half of the clearing, despite the lateness of the season. The berry bushes and other herbs were interspersed by the large mounds that were now the primary means of growing sweet potatoes for the valley. The potato towers seemed almost cartoonish in nature, rising almost 8 feet above ground, compared to their 3 foot counterparts that could be found before the integration. Although larger in size, they faced the same fundamental issue that potato towers always have, heat dispersion. The claggy mass of mud and compostable waste retained heat, which put the tubers in danger of not growing. Somehow, a Level 3 Gardening skill counteracted this to some degree, and the towering structures regularly produced food, so long as the mid-level gardeners were the primary caretakers.

There were around 30 hobgoblins that had gotten their gardening skill to Level 4, which Mike considered remarkable since he, himself, only had 3 skills at Level 4, and most of those skills were somewhat leveled before he had even met the hobgoblins. There were around 10 hobgoblins that had gotten the Skill Ability Gaea’s Blessing when Gardening hit Level 4, and they were the main reason the valley was surviving. The ability allowed them to speed up the production rate of plants many times over, to the point where a tower of potatoes could be grown from the ground up in 3 days. More importantly, they had managed to raise a large oak orchard in just a few months. The trees were laden with acorns, and the ground between trees was constantly littered with the small nuts, despite the lowest level hobgoblins being tasked with collecting acorns on a daily basis.

The acorns represented a major shift in the valley’s diet, one with flour. It wasn’t a true grain, but from experience, Mike knew that adding some higher calorie foods to the regular food rotation would help the inhabitants weather the winter and have the energy to keep existing in the harsh environment that was their home.

As Mike surveyed the heaps of potential food, the problems that had kept him up at night began to plague him again. In regards to acorns, the problems were two fold: 1) They needed a faster way to process the nuts into flour than the current process the valley was utilizing and 2) They needed a place to store the nuts until they were processed, the shed sized mounds of acorns would freeze if they remained in their current state much longer.

His idea to solve the processing problem was to create a mill that was powered by the canal that already wound its way into the clearing. Mike had engineered the pathway and allowed the miners to do most of the diffing. It currently provided the gardeners with easy access to a water source and also corralled fish into small ponds. The mill was similar to the canals, in that it was a project that he could only entrust to himself–though some of the hobgoblins now had a reasonable Intelligence score, there was no way they could build something so complex.

“Mills are really quite simple to make, Creeanth, and I think you are going to learn from the process…” Mike began walking the hobgoblin through the process as they made their way over to the canal.

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The next few days proved cathartic, as Mike devoted almost all of his time to completing the water wheel. By his estimation, its completion was one of the two most important tasks to finish before winter. The chance to work with his own hands again was thrilling–ever since the hobgoblins arrived, he had spent most of his time overseeing projects and improving himself as their protector.

By the end of the first day, Mike had a rough layout of what the mill would look like. Unlike many projects around the camp, this problem couldn’t be solved with Quicksilver manipulation. Though rust resistant, it would be too heavy to be easily turned by the slow moving water. It also wasn’t a suitable material for the actual grinding plates, Mike had learned from sliding along its surface that it was quite conductive to heat, and he didn’t want to risk burning the flour.

By the end of the second day, he had managed to put together a reasonable water wheel–it had required him to narrow a section of the canal. As the water entered the thinner section, it sped up, allowing him to get more force pushing into his water wheel.

He was disappointed when Creeanth didn’t show up to help on the third day. He rather liked talking to the quiet shaman, and in his absence, Mike was acutely aware of the other hobgoblins watching him. For the most part, he was used to the small crowd of hobgoblins that watched him from the shadows, the tattoos on their foreheads, roughly shaped like an ax, identified them as those who revered him as a prophet. The entire morning he was able to hold in his frustration both at their stares and the missing shaman, but when he accidently broke the gear box he had spent the last several hours working on, his anger came to a head, and he marched over to foremost cultist and began instructing her in the various ways she and her friends could be useful, rather than sitting around watching someone else work.

“We need large earthen vessels to store all of these nuts in” he said, emphasizing each word. By Analyzing Creencheez, he knew she was a priestess and that her intelligence score was almost as high as Creeanth’s, so he felt reasonably sure she would get the just of his message.

“We will need about 10 of them. I want them to be about as tall as a tree” he continued as he ran his hand down the length of the large pine tree that had fallen nearby. Her nodding head made him sure that she was following.

“And I want it to be half as wide as it is tall.” This time he stopped gesturing halfways up the tree length.

Repeating his instructions one more time, he added in more hand motions to show height and width. As an afterthought, he said, “I appreciate the trees that you all plant each day. It is helping the valley look more like what it did before the System.”

Silence was the only reply he received, and he feared he had failed, but then Creencheez began relaying his instructions to the others, and they all scurried off to help out.

Hobgoblins really are good people, they just need a bit of guidance every now and again. He thought to himself, his goodwill and optimism returning after the break from his work.

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Creencheez felt both terrified and excited as Big Bossy Boss approached her. Since starting the burgeoning congregation, she felt it her duty to watch over Big Bossy Boss and be on hand should he need any help. To that end, she delegated as many of the clerical tasks to others so she could continue her vigil. Lately, the congregation had swelled to several thousand, though most only joined in the nightly ritual of planting trees, being otherwise engaged with tasks set by the Prophet himself.

As he stood before her, she couldn’t help but feel that her patience and devotion were finally being rewarded, and she was receiving personal instruction. Her excitement turned to desperation as she struggled to piece together what Big Bossy Boss was telling her. Her only clues were vague hand motions and a hodgepodge of words she had learned from listening in on conversations between Big Bossy Boss and Creeanth, like earth, tall, tree, and nuts. It wasn’t until the second time through, when he had framed his face as he motioned to downed trees that she began to understand, and her heart burned with exultant ferver.

As he concluded his instructions, she turned to her fellows and began relaying the instructions with glee.

“He has spoken, and I have received. We are to build earthen statues in his honor, as tall as a tree. More importantly, we must hasten the planting of the grove. The work must go forward at an accelerated pace.”

Happy chirps filled the air as the message quickly spread from the 20 gathered hobgoblins to all other followers within the valley.

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Mike was making great progress on the grindstones until midway through the fourth day, Creeanth’s second absence was offset by the lack of tiny eyes watching him from the tree-line, and he was able to wholly focus on the work. Boring a whole through the upper stone was hard to do, even with Quicksilver, but his raw brute strength and ability to reform the Quicksilver at will made it much easier than it otherwise would have been. As he began boring another hole, where acorns could be inserted into the system, he was interrupted by a running scout headed his way. Though he didn’t understand any of the verbal communication, the hand gestures he had taught the scouts made the message clear. Help. Hurry.

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A large red arrow stood in stark contrast to the blue sky, and was clearly visible as soon as Mike exited the valley, though still several miles away from its location. Such a clear indication from the System hearkened back to the creation of the Arena, and caused him to worry that another dramatic change was about to be imposed upon his valley. Outpacing the accompanying scout, he covered the distance in less than a minute thanks to Footsteps of the Wind. Soon, a haggard man, trussed up and guarded by his scouts, came into view, and Mike was able to stop with only a small stumble and the tiniest loss of dignity.

Righting himself, he walked slowly to the man’s location, the expected and usual fear not found on the man’s face.

Name: Brent

Class: Novice

Level: 5

Strength: 22

Dexterity: 15

Intelligence: 15

Charisma: 10

Toughness: 12

Luck: 17

Abilities: Bust, Slink

Status: Hunted–Kill on sight to receive quest rewards.

Wary of the man’s intentions, Mike did the only thing he could think of at the moment, pulling out a training stud, he hit Brent on the back of the head, rendering him unconscious. No longer supporting his own weight, he collapsed to the ground, the unsuspecting hobgoblins falling in a mass of tangled limbs beneath him. Still slowed from Footsteps of the Wind, it took slightly longer than Mike would have liked to rescue the smashed hobs as he placed the man across his shoulders and began walking back to the valley. Maybe he could find a sympathetic ear from the only other human he had encountered that was so scorned from the System. At a minimum, he would get some information on what was going on in Noobtown

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Brent came too in a pit, lined on all edges with wooden faces. Along the upper rim of the pit, over a dozen hobgoblins stood with bows trained at him. A noise behind him caused him to turn, and he saw the Zone Boss for the second time. The limited light in his surroundings made the bald head less obtrusive, and the shadows only emphasized the breadth of the older man’s shoulders.

“Hello” was what he wanted to say, but all that came out was nasty mix of cough and slur as his pounding head and dry throat rebelled against him.

“Oh, sorry about that, I bet you are famished” his captor said, pulling a crude vase from his pouch that was filled with water.

Knowing that he would just respawn if this was poison, Brent took the vessel and tipped it back, allowing himself a much needed drink. His vision swam as the light hit his eyes and aggravated his headache. Swooning, he almost fell to the ground, until strong arms were suddenly present, holding him up.

“I should have thought to heal that head of yours, one moment.” A pleasant sensation and bright flash of light were the only warning Brent had before he once again fell unconscious.

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The world seemed much clearer as Brent awoke the second time, the lengthened shadows informed him that at least several hours had passed while he was unconscious. Hobgoblins still stood ready to shoot at a moment's notice, though Mike was no longer present. Having been knocked out once more, he was no longer sure what intentions Mike had for him, and he simply laid there and waited in silence.

Not too long after, the burly Navy Seal jumped down into the pit with a sturdiness that surprised Brent.

“Sorry, that is an unfortunate side effect of the healing. It doesn’t happen every time, but sometimes there is no avoiding it.” Mike said in an apologetic voice.

Their conversation was somewhat circuitous as Mike began asking about Brent’s experiences, interspersed with Mike randomly asking if certain ingredients existed in the town. Brent answered with as much honesty as he could, but Bart’s Soul Contracts prevented him from talking about Soul Sunder, Soul Contracts, or even hint towards them. He was even prevented from saying that he was being prevented from speaking about certain topics, as that would make implications to the Soul Contracts.

At length, Brent knew that Mike was getting increasingly frustrated. The man had shown him nothing but kindness, yet from Mike’s perspective, Brent was unwilling to talk about anything of consequence.

He had originally sought out Mike in an effort to escape being hunted by his fellow villagers. Night and day, the large arrow was a beacon to all who wanted to do him harm, and the previous six weeks had been incredibly hard. Despite some rapid gains and gaining a new skill, he knew he would be caught soon if he didn’t catch a break. He didn’t know that he could really trust Mike, but he felt that he had information that would at least put off a stay of execution and maybe afford him a rest.

Deciding it was the moment to put all of his cards on the table, he stated with as much clarity as he could, “The entire village will be coming to attack you in two weeks. I don’t know the details of their plans, but I know that they are coming.”