Soulweaver 3: Penalty Maxer

Penalties

Forego Boons: 5,000 Cosmo Buckaroos

Arthritis: 10,000 Cosmo Buckaroos (Stackable 4x)

Insomnia: 12,500 Cosmo Buckaroos (Stackable, 3x)

High Level Starter Dungeon: 40,000 Cosmo Buckaroos (Stackable 5x)

Halved Leveling: 40,000 Cosmo Buckaroos

No Leveling: 80,000 Cosmo Buckaroos

Halved Stats: 55,000 Cosmo Buckaroos

No Stats: 150,000 Cosmo Buckaroos

Forego Welcome Package: 250,000 Cosmo Buckaroos

Deafness: 500,000 Cosmo Buckaroos

Blindness: 1,000,000 Cosmo Buckaroos

“Fascinating,” I muttered, scanning the papyrus. While Cosmo was too busy enjoying my suffering to say anything actually useful, the Classes and Penalties on offer certainly did.

For one, it told me that the world most likely resembled a medieval fantasy game world. Many of the Blessings were similar to those featured in the games I’ve played, but it was the penalties that confirmed my hunch.

I was surprised to see the word Dungeon appear there. Maybe it meant something completely different, but if I wasn’t mistaken, we were looking at monster-filled caves and underground lairs here.

Restricted leveling also told me that I could reasonably expect the experience points and leveling structures that most role playing games had.

That I could stack certain penalties was another interesting detail. Cosmo had sure put in some effort coming up with these.

The list went on and on. Some were truly catastrophic. “[Blindness]?  Seriously?”

“Yep, that one’s a doozy,” Cosmo said. “1,000,000 Cosmo Buckaroos, though. You’d be rich!”

It awarded so many Cosmo Buckaroos, I could almost afford the [Legendary] Classes with that alone.

Except, I’d be blind. Unless…

“Any way I could undo some of these penalties once I’m in the world?” I asked, fully expecting another nonanswer.

“Well, who can say?” Cosmo replied, thoroughly fulfilling my nonexistent expectations.

He hadn’t outright said no, but whether that was Cosmo being Cosmo or whether it was actually possible, I couldn’t know.

Regardless, no cost in the world was worth going blind or losing my hearing, even if they were somehow possible to fix later. Smell? Taste? Touch? Those I might be willing to compromise on. Maybe.

Before I really dug into the penalties, I needed to figure out what I was aiming for. Once again, I looked over the list of Blessings.

The [Divine] classes were out of reach, no matter how many penalties I racked up. In fact…

“Got a napkin and a pen?”

“Do I ever?” Cosmo said. “Your wish is my command! Sometimes, anyway.”

Cosmo snapped his fingers, and a napkin and a pen appeared before me.

When I’d summed them up, I laughed. The joke wasn’t even funny.

2,262,500 Cosmo Buckaroos. Exactly one point short. The [Divine] options weren’t even attainable, even if I took on every single penalty, let alone whatever [Janitor] was meant to be. Not to mention doing so would’ve left me little better than a vegetable.

“You didn’t seriously think I’d let you become a god, did you?” Cosmo said, looking at me like I was the crazy one here. He’d popped up beside me and was poking his head over my shoulder to inspect my handiwork.

Well, that at least makes the choice easier.

I focused on the ones I’d shortlisted. The options were:

Initializer [Epic] Cost: 444,995 Cosmo Buckaroos

Systems! Leveling! Now even your gear gives you stats! Isn’t that grand?

Journeyman of all Trades [Legendary] Cost: 999,995 Cosmo Buckaroos

Journeymen aren’t Jacks. Nor are they masters. You’re decent at everything, but you’ll never be truly good at anything.

Merchant Prince [Epic] Cost: 329,995 Cosmo Buckaroos

With this class, you’ll never be swindled again!

Omnimancer [Epic] Cost: 519,995 Cosmo Buckaroos

Because one element just won’t do. All the elements. All of them.

“Is [Merchant Prince] pretty much what it sounds like?” I asked, knowing I was shooting in the dark.

“Pretty much!”

“You’re not going to tell me more, are you?”

“I literally can’t. Not until you’ve chosen your penalties.”

My… penalties?

I looked over the penalty list again.

Why would—Ah.

“It’s this Forego Welcome Package’ penalty, isn’t it?”

“Got it in one!” Cosmo exclaimed, snapping and pointing a finger gun at me. “The Welcome Package is full of useful tidbits that’ll help you start your journey.”

And the descriptions are one of those tidbits, huh?

Given how little information Cosmo was giving me, the Welcome Package sounded like a great benefit. Except for one thing. Foregoing it gave me a shit ton of penalty points.

I thought long and hard about this decision. With my knowledge of game worlds, I really wondered what I’d gain from this package. Sure, Blessing details would be nice, as would information about the world, but those points…

Regardless, I didn’t need detailed class descriptions to eliminate a handful from consideration.

I ruled out [Merchant Prince] immediately. From the penalty list and Blessing descriptions, I deduced that this world had monsters and dungeons. I didn’t know if what Cosmo wanted me to do would require fighting them, but so long as this was a dangerous world, that wasn’t a safe class to pick.

“Alright. To be honest, [Omnimancer] sounds pretty solid for a mage build.”

“Now that one’s flashy. You know Gandalf in Lord of the Rings?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah?” I replied. I hadn’t expected it to resemble the powers of a white wizard.

“Yeah, it’s nothing like that. Trust me, you’d love it.”

I sighed. Despite Cosmo’s terrible explanation, [Omnimancer] was definitely in the cards. As an elemental mage who’d mastered all the elements, I’d be powerful. But to afford it, I’d need to take a slew of penalties that I wasn’t comfortable with.

I didn’t even bother with [Cosmomancer]. Yes, it was a Legendary class, but its description was clearly a joke.

Absolutely 100% Cosmic. Trust me, it’s the best. Number One.

[Initializer] was more of a unique option, in that it was another ambiguous one. Cosmo’s explanation was even worse than usual for this one.

“That is certainly a Blessing, isn’t it?”

The ability to allow objects to level. At first glance, it didn’t sound all that powerful.’Objects’, which made me think it’d only take effect on gear—weapons and armor and such.

For killing dragons, this was not the best class. It didn’t sound optimized for any purpose at all.

What it was, however, was versatile. The key hint lay in the fact that it bestowed stats to items as well.

“Just talking out loud here,” I said. “If, say, I were to initialize armor. Or a weapon. If I then leveled it, I could create specialized builds. Except, unlike a specialized Blessing, I could swap my armor and weapons according to the task at hand.”

It was, essentially, another take on the coveted Polymath class. The class that, when leveled, became masters of everything.

“Well, sure. Assuming you can hot swap in the middle of a fight,” Cosmo said, tapping his chin.

“You really don’t know?”

“Hey, don’t look at me!” Cosmo said, raising his hands. “I’ve never done anything like this before!”

That… actually explains a lot.

“The point is, I could create a set that boosted my merchanting skills. Then, if I needed to kill a dragon, I could swap into my dragon slayer gear. It’s a combat-crafting hybrid.”

[Initializer] had the same crippling downside of many of the others—it’d likely be weak initially—but even so, I was definitely warming up to it. It sounded perfect for the uniquely ambiguous situation I was up against.

Of course, this all assumed that my deductions were correct, though I had some confidence. For one, its [Epic] rarity tier was a big hint about its capabilities, otherwise it’d be a lower tier. So was its point cost within that rarity tier—it was on the highest end. For the same reason, I didn’t believe that the Initialized bonuses would be random. It’d make the class far too cumbersome to be useful, and would thus reflect in its rarity and cost.

Also, maybe it was just the alcohol, but my spidey sense was tingling. I was getting excited—that hadn’t happened in a long time.

“Talk to me, Greg,” Cosmo said, refilling my glass. “What are you thinking?”

I picked up the glass and swirled the amber liquid.

“If I’m honest, [Journeyman of all Trades] feels like the safest option. I’d be decently good at every skill, which I’m guessing means magic as well. In games, these sorts of ‘Jack’ classes usually evolve into the strongest class of them all.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“The Polymath. Polymaths can become masters at every skill, making them the most overpowered, broken builds. Assuming you spend the time to master each skill.”

Cosmo rested his elbows on the counter, interlocked his fingers, and rested his head on them, gazing at me intently. He sure seemed to be fond of that gesture.

“So?” he said. “Why the hesitation?”

I frowned and took a sip. “Two things. For one, it’s Legendary. The penalties I’d have to take to afford it… well, they’d cripple me.”

“True enough. Imagine never going to a concert again,” Cosmo said, plugging his ears. “What’s your other hangup?”

“I’m not sure if it can evolve. One particular word in the summary stuck out to me. The word ‘never’ was bolded, italicized, and underlined—it said I’d never be great at any skill.”

“I see.” There was both excitement and amusement in Cosmo’s short reply. As usual, though, I couldn’t guess why.

“This would all just be a lot easier with a bit more information,” I said, more to myself than Cosmo.

“Why not choose your penalties, then?” he asked. “The Welcome Package would make this all so much easier, no?”

“Yeah,” I said with a grimace. “Yeah, it would. Except I’d be locking myself into the lower tier classes if I did. I did the math. Even assuming I picked most of the other non-crippling penalties, I wouldn’t have enough to afford the Epic ones, let alone the Legendaries.”

“And?” Cosmo asked, clearly expecting me to continue.

“And, I dunno if the lower tier classes can evolve. Not a single [Common] Blessing could, which makes me think only the higher rarities can.”

“Sounds like your mind’s set, then,” Cosmo said, disappearing and reappearing a few paces away, a beer glass suddenly in his hand. He was cleaning it with a pristine white rag.

Can’t the guy just walk like normal people? That had to have been less than two steps!

“What?” Cosmo asked.

I take it back.

Every time he used one of those powers, he was practically showing off how not normal he was.

“I have,” I said, answering his earlier question. “I’m going for one of the higher tier classes.”

If I couldn’t be sure which ones were evolution-locked, all I could do was go with a solid bet to begin with.

The decision boiled down to a three-way tie. The [Rare] Chronomancer, and its lower penalty cost and higher flexibility. The [Legendary] Journeyman of all Trades with its known limitations, or the [Epic] Initializer, which was somewhere in the middle.

“Initializer’s definitely a wildcard,” Cosmo said. “The other two would serve you well.”

“Actually, I disagree,” I said. “The real wildcard here’s Journeyman, and whether it can evolve. If I’m going with a class that’s good ‘as-is’, that one would be the riskiest.”

“That’s an interesting way of reasoning about it. Wouldn’t have thought of that,” Cosmos said, stroking his chin.

“Chronomancer, then,” he said. “If you went with that, you could afford the Welcome Package. You’d get to see all the nitty gritty details.”

“Yes, I would,” I said, pondering the options.

I spent the next hour pouring over every option again, wracking my brain for every detail I could pull out of the summaries. I considered going with [Common] Classes. I considered what it’d take to afford a [Legendary], weighing their merits and demerits against the types of situations I might encounter.

Finally, I closed my eyes, took a deep, meditative breath, and made up my mind.

“Initializer.”

“I see!” Cosmo replied, dragging out the ‘e’. “May I ask why?”

“It’s the most versatile of the bunch,” I said simply. What I didn’t say was that, considering the penalties I had to take to obtain any of the higher rarity Blessings, it was one of few that made any sense.

The list of penalties were long, but they fell into two major categories. Ones that sacrificed something major to gain a ton of Cosmo Buckaroos, and ones that were less of an issue, but offered similarly fewer points.

[Initializer] cost 444,250 Buckaroos.

I’d already decided I’d go without the Welcome Package, so that netted me 250k right off the bat. The others weren’t nearly as easy. I didn’t even consider taking the penalties that made me deaf and blind—because, well, no sane person would. Though, I did find it interesting how the system considered eyesight twice as important as hearing.

That left precious few options for getting me up to the required cost.

One of them being [High Level Starting Dungeon].

“Now the penalties, I can say more about,” Cosmo said before I even asked. “As you’ve probably guessed, that [High Level Starting Dungeon]’s similar to the games you’ve played. What you may not know is that you can’t combine some of them. Halved Leveling and No Leveling can’t be combined. You can only pick one. As for blindness, deafness, and arthritis, you can combine those all you want!”

“Yeaah, I’m gonna pass on that,” I said, cringing at the thought. “Grandpa had arthritis before he passed. Just hearing him talk about it hurt me. Feeling pain whenever I try to move isn’t my idea of a good time.”

“Right? Getting old sucks.”

“How old are you, anyway?” I asked, leaning back on the barstool and crossing my arms.

Cosmo threw me a look of pure horror and clasped his hands over his heart. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to ask a god his age? It’s rude!”

I rolled my eyes. “Any others I can’t combine?”

“‘Halved Stats’ and ‘No Stats.’”

“Makes sense. Those are what they sound like, aren’t they?”

“You bet! No leveling means you’re Level Uno for life. No level ups. None of that sweet dopamine rush you gamers are always craving.”

“It’s not the dopamine that bothers me,” I said. “It’s survivability. What about No Stats, though? What does that even mean?”

That ‘No Stats’ granted twice as many Cosmo Buckaroos as ‘No Leveling’ was telling. Stats usually improved at a slower rate, but had far more meaning than levels. Foregoing stats was a heavy penalty to take on.

“Just that you’ll be stuck with stats at rank one.”

“Which means that I could expect to improve them, without the penalty? With level ups and evolutions and such?”

“Perhaps,” Cosmo said with a shrug.

That was interesting. That info was probably also part of the Welcome Package, but anything pertaining to penalties likely wasn’t.

The way the penalties were structured, I’d have to pick at least one that was truly significant. Either I forego leveling, or I forego stats. If I wanted any of the [Legendary] or [Epic] Blessings, this was a choice I’d be forced to make.

If I was honest, both sounded debilitating. Playing an RPG as a level one character was like cranking up the difficulty level to Nightmare Mode.

Which meant if I picked either, I’d need a class that could make up for that deficiency. Make up, and exceed.

“I have one question for you, then. [Initializer] levels objects. And also stats as well, by its description. Would I lose that ability if I took the ‘Forego Leveling’  or ‘Forego Stats’?”

“Hmm, that’s a good question!”

I took a swig, feeling the alcohol burn as it trickled down my throat. Yeah, that’s gonna be a problem.

“You see the issue here, don’t you?” I asked. “If I can’t level objects, [Initializer] becomes useless. So do pretty much all the other Blessings, for that matter.”

“Certainly looks that way, doesn’t it?” Cosmo said.

“You really won’t say anything?”

Cosmo gave me a sly smile.

Guess that means I’m on my own…

It was only after I’d stared at the list of classes for what felt like an eternity that I remembered something.

“Cosmo, can you show me the Common Blessings again?”

“What, now? You’re chickening out?” Cosmo said, acting shocked. “Where’s your sense of adventure!”

“Humor me,” I said, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice.

“No problemo, amigo,” Cosmo said, pulling the papyrus scrolls, which caused them to roll up and out of the way.

I scanned the list…

Bingo.

I downed the rest of the whisky and slammed the glass on the counter. “I’ve made up my mind. No Welcome Package. High Level Starter Dungeon. And… No Stats.”

The answer was right there all along. A couple of the Common classes had disclaimers next to the stat boosts they bestowed.

(Note: Equipment Stat modifiers bypass any stat penalties)

Games weren’t like real life. They set down rules. Ironclad rules that underpinned their entire operation. Equipment stat modifiers bypassed any penalties. If that was true for Common Blessings, it was true of them all. I hoped.

And that meant [Initializer] was one of the only Blessings capable of overcoming any stat debuffs. Its initialized gear bestowed stats, and because equipment stats bypassed penalties… It practically nullified the penalty altogether! I didn’t see anything similar mentioned for leveling, so that really was the only sensible choice.

I did my best to keep a poker face. Whether Cosmo had messed up with this Blessing, or if he was simply unaware, I didn’t want him fixing his mistake. I was gonna be damned sure I’d exploit the crap out of this loophole.

“That brings you up to 440,000 Cosmo Buckaroos,” Cosmo said. “So close!”

I was just 4,995 bucks short.

“What Cosmic Irony,” Cosmo deadpanned.

I… actually laughed.

Cosmo’s lips edged up slightly. I was pretty sure that was the first genuine smile he’d given me since I walked into his bar. As if my reaction put him at ease somehow.

“Feel like stacking that High Level Starter Dungeon Penalty?” Cosmo asked.

“Hard pass,” I said. Life was already going to be hard with [Initializer] in a high level dungeon. The last thing I needed was to reduce my odds of survival even more.

The Forego Boons penalty seemed like the obvious bet, but without knowing more about what it did, I couldn’t risk it. Cosmo wasn’t willing to give me any details, so I turned to my only other resources—the Blessing descriptions.

It took a while, but I finally found something that mentioned it.

Boonchild [Uncommon]

Details: Most struggle to receive boons of the gods. Not you! You’re swimming in them. They may not be all that strong, but who’d say no to more freebies, eh?

Gotcha!

It made sense. If Blessings were powerful gifts of the gods, then Boons were their lesser counterparts. From the low cost, I could figure their worth—next to useless.

“Looks like no Boons for me,” I said.

“Oh, that’s a good one! They’ll just convert to experience, instead. Now, are you sure this is what you want?”

I blinked. If I wasn’t mistaken, Cosmo had just let slip something there.

So, taking the penalty means I can’t take Boons, but instead, that’ll contribute to my leveling? That’s hardly even a penalty.

[Forego Boons] was a definite pick. As for the rest, I wasn’t as sure. [Initializer] would be weak to start. While I wasn’t crazy enough to stack it, I’d taken the High Level Starter Dungeon penalty. That meant I’d be relying on my gaming knowledge to pull me through.

That said, I didn’t usually go with enchanting or crafting classes in my builds—mainly because they tended not to specialize in any one thing. Which, ironically, was the reason I’d chosen it.

More than that, though, I knew so little about the world I was about to enter. Far less than I was normally used to. That was both terrifying, and—as Cosmo said—more than a little exciting. When was the last time I’d been challenged like this? I could hardly even remember. I missed the feeling.

“I’m sure,” I replied, meeting Cosmo’s face.

But the bartender didn’t simply agree, as I’d thought he would.

“There are no take backs, you know? And I’m not talking just about your Blessing. This is your last chance to walk out that door and forget this ever happened. Once you’re in, you’re in.”

I’d expected that all along, but hearing the words really made it hit home.

“I can’t come back, can I?”

“I’m… afraid I can’t say,” Cosmo said. There was real regret in his voice. Like he wanted to tell me, but couldn’t.

My hand shook and my heart pumped. Not out of fear—though there was a little of that—but anticipation. Cosmo wasn’t wrong. I’d lost count of how many times I’d fantasized about being whisked away to another world.

Cosmo set out two shot glasses on the counter.

But can I really give up everything I have here? I thought as I watched him pour.

For many, I imagined it’d be a decision fraught with agony. Family, friends, careers. People who relied on them. That was a lot to leave behind. Shackles that weighed them down.

I had none of these things. Hell, I didn’t even have a pet. Maybe that’s why Cosmo picked me.

“Let’s do this,” I whispered.

Cosmo raised his glass. He regarded me with relief, and also a touch of sadness. Like this was the last time we’d see each other.

I raised mine as well.

“To new beginnings,” he said.

“New beginnings,” I echoed, gulping the shot. This was strong stuff. How long would it be until I had another?

I made sure I relished every last drop of the divine liquid.

“May fate be kind to you,” he said softly as we set down our empty glasses.

I frowned in confusion. “Fate? How does that have anything to—”

And then the world went blindingly white.

The next thing I knew, I was standing in a dimly lit tunnel. My buzz was gone—I was completely sober.

I stood there, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Contrasting my dark surroundings, a green image of a person showed up. It reminded me of the Vitruvian man, with its arms and legs spread wide. I supposed that was my health display.

Within the person, a bright blue liquid filled the outline, starting from the feet and rising up to the head. The words Essence Utilization: 0/10 appeared on top.

The image moved when I did, making it function like a Heads-Up Display. I wondered how they pulled that off.

Even neater—I could drag and adjust the size and location of the items as I liked, as well as hide and show various features with a thought.

The sound of cracking rocks broke me out of my thoughts.

I turned to find two stone pillars. Shiny black stone that was polished to an almost mirror-like finish.

My eyes traveled up from the ground, trying to make sense of what I was looking at. The two pillars supported a large boulder, also shiny and black. Two rocky protrusions extended from it, and on top sat a smooth rock.

A rock that had two, glowing red orbs.

No. Not orbs. Eyes!

The assemblage shifted, and I understood that this wasn’t just a pile of rocks. It was an animated pile of rocks. A Stone Golem. Specifically an Obsidian Golem. The Golem that had just pulverized a wall of the cave I was in.

An overlay materialized around the golem’s frame, coating it in a green hue.

This wasn’t the golem’s magic, though. I recognized it as an element of my HUD—the same one that showed my Essence pool and body condition.

In fact, it was exactly like my body condition display. I supposed this was my Blessing helping me understand my enemy’s current level of health. If I was right, it’d shift to yellow, then red as I hurt it.

Very neat.

I didn’t have a chance to ponder its meaning, but I did notice the golem’s health overlay was now light yellow. It was obvious why—in attacking the tunnel, it’d pulverized its own hand.

Strong, but fragile, huh? Befitting something made of obsidian.

Its glowing red eyes found me. And then it let out a roar so deep, the cave actually shook.

It was so absurd. So impossible, I laughed.

“Okay, Cosmo!” I shouted up at the air. “You got me. What is this, some new VR tech? Next-gen reality TV? You can cut the crap now.”

The golem smashed the ground. Small stones went whizzing by my ear. So close, I could feel the air it displaced.

My cheek felt hot.

I put my hand up, and it came away wet.

Strange.

It was sticky and warm.

I stared at my bloody fingers blankly.

And then I understood.

This wasn’t a game.

This wasn’t an illusion.

It was real. It was all real.

And I was about to die.

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