Monroe

Chapter One Hundred and Fifteen. Too much time alone in the Dungeon.

Chapter One Hundred and Fifteen. Too much time alone in the Dungeon.

"So," Bob said to Monroe as he rubbed the big cat under the chin, "I was thinking that now that we both have our Dimension schools capped and our Spatial Expansions spells capped, we should expand our inventory; what do you think, buddy?"

Monroe's low rumbling purr didn't change, nor did the rhythm with which his claws slowly flexed into the chest plate of Bob's armor.

"You'll have so much more room in there," Bob enthused as he kept a watchful eye on his UtahRaptors as they tore through a pack of five Veno-bears.

"And I was thinking," Bob continued as he switched to digging into Monroe's ruff, scratching under the edge of the Makres harness, "If we expanded it enough, and we ought to be able to, I could set up a few rooms in there, sort of a little home that we can carry with us."

Monroe opened his eyes to slits and increased the volume of his purr and the frequency of his happy feet in appreciation and approval of Bob's suggestion. Or his attention to the itchy spot under the harness.

Bob chose to believe it was enthusiasm for his suggestion.

He'd been in the Dungeon for almost four weeks.

After he'd constructed his system of pipes to reduce the turbulence in the mana flowing down into the bottom of the Dungeon, his checks throughout the floor had become routine. He'd found only a single leak since, at least in the pools.

He'd repaired his spiraling baffles every other day, which was both safer and far less expensive than the multiple fixes he'd been making before creating the system.

The first week, he'd been managing to keep up with the hundreds of mana crystals he was expending each day by virtue of spending twelve hours a day on the thirty-fourth floor.

Bob rolled his shoulders and checked behind him carefully.

That first week had been rough.

The turbulent mana had caused some pools to spawn monsters more quickly, and as a result, there had been wandering Veno-bears that dropped from trees or sprang out from the underbrush.

He'd been ambushed quite a few times.

The attacks had become much less frequent after he'd installed his plumbing, but...

Veno-Bears hurt.

Bob was fragile.

He needed not only a defensive skill, such as dodge or parry, but he also needed an armor skill.

Trebor had explained that wearing armor mitigated damage, but knowing how to use armor, shifting your body to take the strike on a plate rather than a seam or exposed flesh, was an actual System skill.

Apparently, 'Armor' was a school, and then you had several skills beneath it, such as Mesh, Scale, Plate, Feathers, Fur, Scales, or Hide.

He was missing out on a significant amount of defense.

If it weren't for his Eldritch Shield, he wouldn't have survived those ambushes.

Bob shivered and rechecked the trees.

He reached up and stroked Monroe.

It had been a Veno-bear ambush that had resulted in his frantic escape into his inventory.

He'd just finished a ritual repair to a pool, when not only did the monsters from the pools suddenly swarm towards him, but a skulking Veno-bear had dropped on his back out of a tree.

With no raptors up, one monster having popped his shield, and five more headed his way at full speed, Bob had panicked and dropped a portal to the only safe place he could.

He'd taken several moments to calm his nerves before recasting his effect over time Eldritch Shield and heading back out to deal with the threat.

His inventory was a ten-foot cube, with all sides being made of his blue-black energy, a pile of mana crystals in one corner, his clothing in another, a cat bed in yet another, with the final corner reserved for the litter box.

Days later, he'd considered that with Spatial Expansion, he could expand his inventory into something quite roomy.

He was, after all, wasting a bit of time each day going in and out of the Dungeon.

If he expanded the space and arranged living quarters, that time could be reclaimed for other purposes.

Bob glanced at the transparent bar that hovered on the edge of his vision.

At thirty-two experience per kill, he'd been making fantastic strides towards capping his Summon Mana-Infused Creature spell.

He had reached the wall from sixty-four to sixty-five earlier in the day.

Forty million nine hundred and sixty thousand experience.

That was almost twice the experience he'd gained over his marathon twelve hours a day, seven days a week, nearly four-week-long delve.

In that time, he'd capped every single spell he had, save his Summon Mana-Infused Creature and his Eldritch Blast spell.

He'd even capped his melee skill.

It had been like some terrible training montage, except instead of lifting weights and hitting punching bags, he'd been surrounded by UtahRaptors battling Veno-bears.

It had been profitable, though. He had gathered a touch under twenty-thousand mana crystals.

Of course, the first week, he'd spent three to four hundred a day, then he'd spent four hundred on his plumbing, and then after that, he'd only needed to spend a hundred every other day or so. All told, he'd burned through five thousand eight hundred mana crystals curating the Dungeon.

And he still had over fourteen thousand.

Which was why he was contemplating using a couple of hundred crystals to expand his inventory. He wasn't sure when Thidwell was going to come back, but it would probably be a while, and it wasn't like he couldn't just pop down and clean sweep the thirty-fourth floor a few hours a day if he wanted to.

He was also considering the seven thousand crystal cost of new armor for both himself and Monroe.

He was currently wearing armor with bonuses for level twenty-three, which was fine, although his staff was level fifteen, which he really needed to replace.

And at some point, Monroe would also need an upgrade.

"Rule six, buddy, never enough crystals, even when you have thousands of them," Bob commiserated with Monroe.

He needed sixteen thousand crystals to reach tier sixa minimum of four thousand for new gear and a new staff for himself.

He wasn't sure about increasing Monroe's tier. The big Maine-Coone was perfectly fine as he was, and it wasn't like choosing Monroe's path. Tiering the big floofer up would change who he was, and Bob was hesitant to make that decision.

Bob sighed and started summoning out effect over time UtahRaptors. He needed to level up his Eldritch Blast spell, but he still needed his raptor packs to take on the Veno-bears for him.

"Mommy's alright, Daddy's alright, they just seem a little weird," Bob sang to Monroe as he started on his second circuit that hour.

Thidwell slashed down with his spear, marveling at his new strength.

Root, from the Plant School, with persistent effect, had given him an additional one hundred and fifty Strength and Endurance. He couldn't walk, but he was in a position to pull the Flaming Hipenakes towards him with a spell.

He'd never been dismissive of Druids and the others who delved into the Plant School. He was well aware of the role Plant Growth played in keeping Holmstead fed, and by export, profitable. Poison Blast was excellent for clearing more than just pests from crops; it also cleared monsters from the wall during a wave. No, he held a great deal of respect for them.

He'd never truly considered the impact that Root could have.

He fought mechanically as his thoughts drifted.

He'd been delving for exactly four weeks. He was still suffering from a mana density discrepancy, and it would take quite a while longer for it to equalize, but he was confident that he'd gotten his shield up in time to prevent any true damage.

He was level twenty-four, and he nearly had his skills capped. He'd expected to be done by now, but the truth was that his new path provided so many skills.

He had more skills now than he'd had before reincarnating at level thirty-one.

He was spending eighteen hours a day delving, pausing to sleep at the gateway of the whatever floor he was working his way through.

His next jump would be to level twenty-eight, where he would work to cap his skills on the thirty-fourth floor. At that point, he could start taking some of the burden off of Bob, who had to be worn ragged from keeping up with the constant repairs necessary on the bottom floor of the Dungeon.

He smiled savagely.

From the moment Bob had shown him the Path of the Patient Warden, he'd seen the truth of its power.

The additional skills were nice but not necessary. No, the true power was the capstone. Being able to work on the bottom floor of his Dungeon without worrying about monsters attacking him.

He could work out the mana flows so much more quickly, allowing him to drive his Dungeon as deeply as mana crystal accumulation and donation would allow.

In another five years, Holmstead would rival Harbordeep.

In ten, Holmstead would eclipse them, and with Bob's ability to unravel the secrets of powerful paths, the most powerful adventurers in the world would settle here.

Harbordeep would wither, and those treacherous fools would be left in the shadows, impotently wailing and gnashing their teeth as the world passed them by.

The name Orstang would once again stand tall, and finally, his father would be avenged.

Thidwell chortled as he ran his spear smoothly through another Hipenake.

Ellen cursed as the sheep she was attempting to shear twisted at an almost impossible angle, nearly popping her shoulder out its socket.

She was beginning to loathe sheep, foul creatures that they were.

The entire situation was made worse by just how friendly and happy they were after they'd been sheared. The stones cursed beasts were glad to be rid of their overly heavy coats, but they fought like demons to avoid the process that freed them.

Bob had been gone for five weeks.

After four and a half weeks of wilderness survival training, they'd been tasked with plowing fields. Four days later, they'd helped to seed the fields they'd plowed.

Now they'd been shearing sheep for two days.

Ellen was a member of the Watchers and an Adventurer. She was not, nor had she ever been, a farmer.

She was more certain than ever that there weren't any cultists in Holmstead.

The town's population had exploded out of their homes as the snow melted, eagerly and vigorously setting about the tasks to prepare themselves for spring.

She'd seen nearly every person in the town at this point, and while there were a few more Oren and Gaia followers than the Chruch might have preferred, they were out preparing fields and working with livestock, a well-meshed part of the community.

No, she thought sourly as she finished shearing the ungrateful beast; the only evil to be found in Holmstead was the sheep.

Elli and Harv might be sadists, though.

She stretched and reached for the next sheep with a smile, playing her role as the sore but willing teenager.

The rest of the freshers had embraced their tutelage under Harv and Elli with enthusiasm. Their willingness to pitch in and help the community had worked to ensure that they were accepted, and she had noticed that several of the teens were pairing off with locals, and all three of the groups had decided to stay in Holmstead past the end of the shepherding period.

Part of that stemmed from the taxes or lack thereof.

She was well aware of how people felt about the King's Tax in Harbordeep.

Ellen knew they'd be far more upset if they were aware of the frivolous luxuries their taxes went to fund.

She'd attended a few dinners hosted in the palace and seen the lavish rooms, elemental features that required an ongoing upkeep of mana crystals, serving no purpose but decoration.

And while the King's Tax paid for the maintenance of the walls, streets, water systems, and the guard, she had calculated the expenses and realized that more than half of the collected taxes went directly to the King.

While you could easily make the argument that the King protected the city and deserved compensation, the raw numbers would inflame the populace, were they common knowledge.

No, the freshers likely weren't aware of the waste; they were simply eager to be free of the tax.

They tipped Austan quite well, and she'd noted that he turned the crystals over to the Church happily.

Holmstead wouldn't lead any of the freshers astray, but it was also a waste of her time. She needed Bob to finish his shepherding so that she could report back to the Church. They needed to know about the Affinity Crystals and the Paths that required them.

Stars above, what was taking Bob so long?

Eddi was sitting on a branch, trying his hand at whittling. Wayna loved hawks, and he was on his eighty-fourth attempt at carving a hawk medallion out of a chunk of white walnut.

He really liked Wayna. She was smart, funny, and pretty, and she didn't mind that he sometimes got excited and rambled on.

He'd been level twenty-three forever, but Thidwell, before he'd reincarnated, had tasked Eddi with gathering enough Summoning Affinity Crystals for Bob to show all the other Guilds in Greenwold how they'd work.

Thidwell had even suggested that Eddi go along with Bob to show everyone the power of the Endless Swarm.

Thidwell had asked him.

He'd never expected to talk to Thidwell. The huge man was the Curator of the Dungeon and the Leader of the Adventurers Guild in Holmstead. He was important. The most important man in Holmstead.

And he'd asked Eddi to do something for him. Something to not only help Thidwell but also to help Bob.

Of course, he'd said yes.

It was a little boring, though.

He'd followed Bob's advice and taken quite a few of what Bob called "Quality of Life" skills as he'd leveled up.

Dimension, for flight and travel, as well for spatial expansion; that was going to be a moneymaker. He'd drawn up a special backpack, the leather stretched around a frame. It formed a box, two feet wide, two and a half feet tall, and a foot deep. He'd had to add padded swathes to the back to make it comfortable, but with Gary's help, he'd managed to make a rectangular backpack that was comfortable to carry.

He'd cast the ritual to spatially expand it himself. It was almost three times larger now, in all dimensions. It was seven feet tall, six feet wide, and four and a half feet deep. He had to wriggle a little, but he could squeeze into it, and he had a narrow bed set up in there, with a dresser/desk built into it at the end. It was a cozy little room, and it held all of his clothes, his books, and the few oddities he'd collected or been given as presents by his parents.

It kept his little sister out of his stuff quite nicely.

He wanted to make something similar for Wayna, but he was still trying to work out what sort of layout she'd like.

After furnishing his own space, he wished he'd made the backpack a little deeper. The foot and a half, when expanded to four and a half, made his space just a little narrow. Another half a foot would have his space at six feet wide, by six feet tall, by seven feet long.

But first, he was going to get this hawk just right.

He paused to throw a series of Anima Blast Effect Over Time spells on his persistent effect rexettes. That was something else Bob had told him.

"While you can summon them back out and restore their health that way, and yes, it will often be more efficient, you live in a world where you can heal people."

He remembered Bob pausing to make that point.

"Living in a place where you can heal people, saving their lives, regenerating their wounds, replacing lost limbs, and choosing not to have that power, is the most shortsighted and foolish choice you could make."

Bob had told him that where he came from, if you lost a finger or an arm, it was gone. Forever.

Eddi shook his head.

He had Anima Blast and Regenerate. Because Bob was right. If you could take those skills, you should take those skills.

His T-Rex packs tore apart another Komoscorp as Eddi refocused his attention on the tail feathers. He'd get them right this time.