Chapter 49.1 - A Familiar Pencil

“How flaming long has it been since ye used up the Master’s luck?” Jax yelled over her shoulder as we pelted down the hallway.

“I don’t know!” Lynnria shouted, chest heaving.  “Like… yesterday?”

“Watcher’s eye,” I groaned from my position trailing behind the pack.  “You’re going to need to start keeping track.  This is ridiculous!”

The wheezing conversation halted briefly while we navigated through yet another island of furniture, variously dodging, weaving, or hurtling over desks and divans depending on physical ability.  I was mostly just trying not to trip over anything.

The coin we were all chasing had picked up an incredible speed by that point—defying logic and reason to a preposterous degree.  You would have thought the damned thing was in free fall, not innocently rolling down a hallway.

“Do you still see it?” I yelled.

“Yes,” Arx shouted from well ahead.  At her Agility levels, she was much faster than the rest of us—because apparently, that was how that worked.  “I’d have caught it already if it weren’t for all this crap in the way!”

Right about then, we came to a much wider area, for once devoid of furniture save for a familiar-looking rug.  And a door on the windowed side of the hall.  As we passed the double set of ascending stairs, the conspicuously placed nude statues, and the undeniable remains of the table Lynnria had broken earlier, there could only be one conclusion.

“The fuck?!” I huffed.  “Does this hallway loop?”

“We wasn’t running backward,” Jax shot back, herself struggling not to gawk.

Almost before we had even processed that insanity, we were through and on down the hall again—as ever, straight as an arrow and with no signs of even a gentle curve.

I tried taking furtive glances at the doors as we passed them, trying to get some nebulous idea as to their signage, but there was almost no hope of remembering them all.  I was not even certain whether these were ones we had already seen, or if they had been replaced by new ones.

Because who knew what the Dungeon’s rules were anymore.  They might as well have been assembled by a bunch of gerbils rolling around on a typewriter.

Distracted as I was, my shin took the opportunity to slam into an inconveniently placed footstool, and I slid to the floor in a heap.

“And done.  I’m ready for testing now, if you’d all—”  Mia paused.  “Wait, what’s going on?  What did I miss this time?”

“We’s already testing one o’ yer dead pish skills,” Jax yelled, her voice fading as she drew away.

Mia ignored the insult.  “You are?  Then… why are you lying on the floor, my liege?”

Biting back the automatic, pained cursing I wanted to reply with, I instead stumbled to my feet to limp after my party.  Because of course, the wizard would be the one to get left in the dirt.  Maybe I should invest in something like an Expeditious Retreat?  That’d be nice.

“Mia, what exactly does the Luck Rune do, anyway?” I panted.

“Mmm~?” Mia thrilled huskily.  “Lord Donum…!  Naughty.  I haven’t even cleaned up yet.”

“Fair enough.”

Right about then, there was a distant crash followed by a pair of equally distant, gray legs upending themselves over a table.  “Son-of-a-’stoe-sucking whore!”

“Don’t… lose it!” Lynnria called, clearly winded.  She might well have been quite the runner amongst her peers, but stats were stats.  Even I had better stamina.

A sudden pain lanced through my rib-cage.

Slightly better stamina…

“Lose what?” Mia prompted.

“Coin…” I explained.  Shortly.  “Chasing… coin.”

“You’re chasing a coin,” Mia repeated—from her tone, as though reacting to a gaggle of five-year-olds reporting on little Jimmy’s heroic victory over the terrible, inch-long lizard they had happened upon.  “And I gather our friend, Lynnria, has temporarily enchanted this coin with a Rune for good fortune?  Did it never occur to you that losing it would be most unfortunate?  Quite the opposite of the intent of the Rune, wouldn’t you say?”

I managed to suck in a deep breath.  “Why, no, Mia.  That hadn’t occurred to me.  Because I don’t know how the damned Rune works!”

“Fair enough,” she chortled, echoing me.  “Well, then.  Until you do catch it, why don’t we go over your skill advancements?”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“It’s not like you have anything better to do,” she reasoned.  “But, if you’re too busy to attend to my literal purpose in life…”

I rolled my eyes.  “Fiiiine.  But no huge cards in my face.  I have to see where I’m going.”

“But I’ve already updated…” She sighed mournfully.  “Whatever.  You only really care about the big milestones, anyway.”

“Explain to me why I should care about a bunch of one-point increases, and maybe I will,” I shot back, slowing to a much more sustainable jog.  There was no chance for me to catch up to the Dolilim, anyway.  Even with the obstacles.

She sniffed.  “I suppose a single point isn’t so significant in the grand scheme of things.  However, it is a step along the journey toward Mastery.  And perhaps beyond.”

“Okay.  An explanation as to what these steps are and what they mean might actually be helpful.”

She tsked.  “I’m sure it would.  However, you know I can’t reveal more than what is generally understood by the populace.  You’re supposed to figure out the finer details yourself.”

What I knew was that what Mia could or could not reveal vacillated quite a bit depending on her mood.  She preferred to play her cards close to her chest, but she would lay them on the table in a heartbeat given the right circumstances.

She was a bit like a gossip that way.  Maybe she’s just starved for attention.

“I’ll take what I can get.  All I really know is Novice, Intermediate, and Competent.”  I hoped, in rattling off what little I had managed to glean, that the incompleteness of my knowledge might shake something loose.  “But other than a vague idea that each is better than the last, I’m in the weeds.”

“After those are Proficient, Expert, and Master,” she explained.  Then, a moment later, she added, “Grandmaster, too.  Though, that is exceedingly rare.  No more than six or seven in a generation—across all known skills.”

Bingo.  “Wow… why so few?”

She giggled.  “Flirt.”

For a moment, I thought I might have overplayed my hand, however my reply was delayed by a need to pick my way through a small scene of overturned furniture and broken crockery.

“Improving one’s skills requires challenging oneself in their use,” she continued when I did not.  “You have experienced this before during your… infrequent training sessions.”

“I’ve been a little busy, Mia.”

“Yes, my lord,” she agreed—perhaps a tad too easily.  “Of course, in the beginning, literally everything you do with a skill is a challenge, so progress comes quickly.  Things slow considerably later on.”

I nodded.  “Okay, that makes sense.  It’s just like mundane skill progression.”

“As opposed to what?”

“Uh…”

I briefly considered getting into what life was like back on my own planet.  She would have probably appreciated the candor, but that would require a whole lot of talking on my part.  And I was right in the middle of trying not to get left behind by my trio of lovers.

“I’ll tell you later,” I promised, picking up the pace.