Double-Blind CH14

<Ordinator has reached LVL 5. A new Ordinator branch can now be accessed.>

A massive wall of text scrolled vertically.

<A WITHERED MAN IN A WHITE MASK STARES IN YOUR WINDOW EVERY EVENING. IF YOU APPROACH THE WINDOW, HE DISAPPEARS, ONLY TO RETURN THE NEXT NIGHT. IF YOU IGNORE HIM, HE SHAKES THE WINDOW UNTIL THE LATCH LOOSENS. AFTER EXHAUSTING EVERY OTHER OPTION, YOU:

A. GO OUTSIDE AND SLIT HIS THROAT

B. SHOOT HIM FROM INSIDE THE KITCHEN>

On the surface, it was a question of range. Would I rather be up close to an attacker or far away? Superficially, the answer was B, far away.

But the question is flawed. Window. Kitchen. It specifically calls to mind a domestic setting. My LSAT knowledge tickled. Assuming the question is tailored to me, specifically, this is a stand-your-ground state. Option A isn't going to fly—There's Greystone Garcia v. Florida, but that shit was borderline. Option B is justified under both stand-your-ground and most Castle Doctrine laws, but looking outside the letter of the law, this is happening at late at night, with presumably no witnesses. It would be hard to prove the lethal force was justified.

Or, it was just a superficial question about range. But the system had a history of asking nasty questions that were anything but surface level.

“Gonna go with Option C. Call the cops,” I murmured to myself.

C. CALL THE POLICE

The option appeared as if it had always been there.

Answer accepted.

Before I could channel my angry sputtering about bad proctoring into more colorful epithets, more system text began to scroll.

<Ordinator has split from the Primary Branch to Hidden Subset.>

<Ordinator Ability Unlocked: Suggestion>

I stared at the ability in silent horror. From the beginning, my largest issue with the Ordinator class was its total absence of any direct damage. Daphne could smash my face into the ground. Wife-beater guy could burn me to death with acid birds.

And now, I could kindly ask them to stop.

The cushioning grass welcomed me as I laid down slowly, the system screen following as I fought the urge to punch something. Even if it was something completely overpowered like direct mind control—which I highly doubted, considering the name—the skill had the same subscript as Probability Spiral, a little number 1 to the bottom right. Meaning it was single target. So if I was attacked by the group, I could kindly ask one of them to go easy, while the rest curb-stomped me into the ground.

And naturally, the system wasn’t going to give me any more information if I focused—

<Skill Description: Suggestion. The ability to bend others to your will. Strength of effect depends on the specific order and intelligence of the target and caster. Most effective on summons.>

Option C. My eyes widened. It was like opening a present that hinted at a much larger present to come. I tore through my various screens until I found what I was looking for.

<Summon Slots Available. 0 of 2.>

/////

Short version. My drops from the Omnivorous flowers included around Forty Goldlight Petals that had alchemical potential according to the description, a half-dozen vines that could double as ropes, and a silver coin that portrayed rather graphic iconography of a flower being shredded by a jagged short sword.

<Monster Core: Simple>

<Consume Monster Core and Create Summon?>

So now it was a question of build.

Matt

Level 5

Strength: 5

Toughness: 4

Agility: 7

Intelligence: 13

Perception: 7

Will: 6

Companionship: 1

Active Feats:

Double-Blind, Ordinator’s Guile I.

Current Skills:

Probability Spiral, LVL 6. Suggestion, LVL 1. One-handed, LVL 4

Skill Points Available: 6. Feat points available: 4.

Raising Intelligence was just as critical as before and remained a focus, as both of my abilities keyed into it. Will—according to an otherwise vague tool-tip—allowed better control over my summons. I guessed companionship might factor somehow but wasn’t willing to risk precious skill-points over a hunch. I placed two points in Intelligence, three in Will, and one in Agility. I was torn on where to put the last point, but Agility was invaluable when it came to direct combat.

There were no Ordinator perks available that had anything to do with summons. I picked two generic feats instead. It was easier now that I had an idea what I was building towards.

<Awareness I: Opens a third eye. Expands the User’s peripheral vision significantly. While it lacks the more specific nature of later tiers, the User will often receive an early warning when a threat evades their perception.>

<Stealth I: Stalk your enemy from the shadows or a crowd. Taps into the User’s agility, making them harder to detect. 20% increase to stealth.>

Both selections were almost automatic. Stealth was paramount for both sneak-attacks and getting an early read on a situation. I’d gotten lucky that the flowers were slow and relatively weak once separated. And I knew better than to rely on my luck. That it would increase my natural ability to blend in a crowd was the icing on the cake.

Awareness was—Well. Let’s just be honest. It was copyright-friendly spidey-sense. And who in their right mind would turn down spidey-sense? My only concern reading the description was the off-chance that it might, in a spat of system fuckery, open a literal third-eye on my forehead.

I did one last lap around the meadow to confirm the perimeter was secure in case I passed out and hit the confirm button.

My vision blurred as my body and mind changed as one. The pain was expected. The warm trickling of accomplishment that flooded my veins wasn’t. And the feeling only grew stronger. My feats kicked in and my perspective shifted. The scent of the slain flowers held notes of pungent cedar, now impossible to ignore. I could see them without turning my head, far back and to my left, at an angle so sharp it should have been impossible.

It all blended into a giddy feeling that flowed endlessly.

I did this. Me. I overcame an obstacle and earned this. And it was only going to get better. More levels. More power. More rewards—

Wake the fuck up. This is textbook operant conditioning. You’re a rat in the Skinner Box. And Skinner, in this case, is kind of an asshole. Jaded Eye’s grating inner-voice cut through my fugue. The feeling was so strong I almost dismissed the warning before I realized how right it was.

An image of Daphne driving her fist into the bounty’s face over and over popped into my mind.

Even before we fell out, back when we still played games, she wasn’t the greatest friend. She’d always been quick to screw me over a piece of loot, or laugh when I failed.

But she was never a monster.

The easiest explanation at the time was that she’d gone insane, like the rest of the city. But what if the difference between me and her came down to how she started? I was generally conflict avoidant, and I’d already harmed two people. If she’d had a more tumultuous start that ended in a body-count, and the result was this feeling of euphoria and accomplishment? And she kept chasing it, surrounded by people doing the same thing?

Disregarding the system entirely would be foolish. It had always been shady. But I needed to be careful. There needed to be rules, a regimen. A basic first tenant was that jumping more than one level was a no-fly zone unless absolutely necessary. And I had to be on the lookout for other ways the system tried to affect my judgement.

Eat your cheese. Just keep asking who’s feeding you.

I consumed the token and prepared to summon.