CHAPTER 329: CURSE YE BONES

About two-thirds of our Dimensional group was Silver and would remain behind to guard the second perimeter. Ishi flew off to the Woodworking Dungeon, whereas Madel would accompany Clown Car and me to the Smithing Dungeon. She didn’t have Smithing–she didn’t have any crafting skill at all–but she had to pass through a crafting Dungeon of some kind. Thus, she was being carried by the nearest crafting expert.

Madel flew ahead while the mysterious Level 26 used a movement aura to give him and I a jaunty sprinting speed. I resolved to get his name, despite the awkwardness of having waited several hours to ask.

“Specialist Tomomaru Ginsum,” he said over his shoulder, face obscured by his dark helm. He’d never taken it off. Tomomaru was taking the lead and plowing a road through whatever vegetation dared exist in his path, shredding bushes and waist-high weeds like a boulder catapulted at near-mach speeds. He had to yell for me to even hear him over the noise of our passing.

I followed behind, happy to keep the burrs out of my beard. I was also wearing a helmet, but I knew the thorny seeds would find a way inside if I were to forge my own path through the Forest. They were insidious like that.

“Sounds more like a Chovali name than a Littan one,” I replied. “In fact, if I were back on Earth, I’d say it sounded Japanese.”

“A strange coincidence,” said Tomomaru. “I’d have thought names from your world’s cultures would be more distant from our own.”

“There are way more similarities than differences. I’m fairly certain that my trip to Arzia was just a sideways hop to a sister Earth.”

Specialist Tomomaru regarded me for a few moments. “Maybe your Earth was something created by an older generation from this world. From your reports, there have been many advanced civilizations to rise and fall here. Maybe one tried to escape by building another planet and shutting the door behind them.”

I hopped a log that Tomomaru had slid under rather than smashing through. “You know, I’m not sure if that theory makes me more or less comfortable than a multiversal one.”

“Well, despite how you think my name sounds, Ginsum is a very Littan surname,” he said. “It’s derived from Ginso, which is the name of the vassal nation I come from. This is an honor bestowed upon notable citizens by a duke for different reasons, with different forms based on their service. General Thaddacleus Connatis is named after Connas, whereas General Olivia Bavecista is named after Bavecira.

“As for my forename, Ginso is closest to Choval of all the nations in the empire. We’ve adopted some of their culture as a result, although it is also a part of the title.”

“So Tomomaru is a very Littan name as well,” I said.

“Yes.”

“And what meaning does Tomomaru Ginsum have, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“It means ‘perfect companion of Ginso,’” he said in a formal tone. The man seemed to take his name seriously. “Do not ask me why I received the title. It is a private matter.”

“Of course.”

We ran for a time in silence before he made some more very loud small talk. I eventually asked about his military rank. Specialists were individuals with a narrow role who either hadn’t shown any aptitude for an officer position or had no desire to be involved in command. When I asked what he was a specialist of, a wave went through the weird blur that his soul created, and I could hear the grin in his voice when he answered.

“Survival.”

We reached the Smithing Dungeon in about twenty minutes, leaving a two-hundred-mile-long trail through the Forest in our wake. Tomomaru assured me that the first half of the trail would have already overgrown, which matched my own experience in the region.

The Dungeon was a mountain-sized pile of roots rising at a steep angle, supporting a single enormous tree at its peak, although the canopy obscured the gargantuan entity. A few hundred feet up the slope was a wide opening and a path down into the root system. At the mouth of this root cave was Team Pio’s tank, Sergeant Guar, the moody-as-ever Major Kai of Seaward, and the big guy himself, Varrin. Folly’s resident sword saint was helping Guar with yet more equipment repair for the fifteen other Littans standing around.

“Wow,” I said. “Smithing is popular with Littans.”

“It’s the opposite,” said Tomomaru. “Because of the paucity of magical materials in the empire, crafting is left in the hands of a small number of experts.” He shifted and thought for a moment. “Our new relationship with Eschendur may change that for the newest batch of recruits.”

“So somebody here is a Smithing master? Do you know who?”

“Well, of course I do. He’s me.” Tomomaru leaped up the last hundred feet of roots and landed amidst the gathered Littans. It took a few minutes for a few stragglers to arrive, after which Major Kai got everyone’s attention. I noted that the man now wore heavy plate armor very similar to Tomomaru’s, although it looked shiny and new, whereas the specialist’s had some obvious signs of aging despite being well-maintained.

“This is not a normal chain of command,” said Major Kai. “Specialist Tomomaru has the highest Smithing skill, so any order he gives while we are inside the Dungeon shall be treated as if I’d given it myself.” Kai nodded at Tomomaru, who smoothly took over.

“Forest Dungeons do not like it when somebody without the right intrinsic skill enters. It will try to separate us, to isolate anyone without Smithing, and force you to take the skill or die. Since none of you should have any open skill slots, it will be impossible for you to take up Smithing, meaning that if you get separated, you will die. Because of this–” Tomomaru stopped when I raised my hand. “Yes, King Xor’Drel? Do you have a question?”

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“Is there any reason I can’t stuff everybody in my lounge and then pop them back out once we’re on the other side?” I asked. “There’s plenty of room in there, and my portals don’t break.”

Tomomaru looked at me for a long moment, then turned back to the crowd.

“Those of you without the Smithing skill will be entering Closetland for the duration of our journey through the Dungeon,” he said with the confidence of a man who hadn't just had all his plans thrown in a fire. “I’ll remind you that this is a border crossing. You will be under the jurisdiction of Closetland, so I expect everyone to behave.” He nodded at me, and somebody shouted for the non-smiths to line up. I opened a portal to my lounge, and my second self appeared within it to act as host.

“Your Majesty,” I said.

“Your Majesty,” I replied, drawing baffled looks from a few of the Littans. The rest of the experienced Golds were jaded enough to magic shenanigans that the sudden existence of a doppelganger was just another Tuesday for them.

Once everyone was through, I closed the portal, leaving myself, Guar, Varrin, and Tomomaru to face the Dungeon. I looked between my three companions–Varrin in his black and silver armor, Guar in his own black and red armor, another match to Tomomaru’s. Meanwhile, I stood out like a bright piñata in my blue, violet, and fuchsia getup. I stroked my boa, satisfied with how delightfully punchable I looked beside my menacing, temporary teammates.

“The Clown Nose Crew?” I said.

“Are you… suggesting a potential name for our group?” asked Tomomaru.

“Yes. One based on my outfit and your nickname, of which only I am aware.”

Before Tomomaru could follow that thread, Varrin held up a hand, palm out. “Please don’t,” he said. “There is no need for a name. Let us just get through this place.”

“Team Tank!” shouted Guar, golden eyes flashing.

“Varrin’s not a tank,” I pointed out.

“Fireteam: One Man Down!” Guar replied.

“Gods above,” Varrin muttered.

“Seems kind of pretentious, Varrin,” I admonished. He scowled at me. I could tell that he was scowling despite his face being entirely covered by his helm, since the man scowled with his entire soul.

“Smithing Squad,” said Tomomaru. “I don’t want to know why my secret nickname relates to a clown’s nose, so this is the obvious choice.”

I waved at the specialist. “Welp, he’s in charge.”

“Good. Let’s go.” The four of us picked our way through the opening, down into the massive root system.

There was no natural light as we descended, but the subtle glow of Guar’s eyes gave enough illumination for my darkvision to kick in. As we moved farther from the entrance, his eyes grew even brighter until his helm shone like a spotlight, lighting the way wherever he turned his head. After a few hundred feet, we got a notification.

You have entered the Caving Tree

Smithing Dungeon

Recommended skills: Smithing 20

You have been afflicted with the Caving Curse!

“Hmm,” I hummed. “What’s the Caving Curse?”

“The Caving Curse turns into an affliction called Bone Root Weathering if you go 24 hours without curing it,” said Tomomaru.

“Okay… What’s Bone Root Weathering do?”

“Small roots begin to grow near your bones. They slowly wrap around the bones, adding pressure until they begin to fracture. Then the roots wedge themselves into the cracks and break the bone down into smaller and smaller pieces. It’s excruciating, or so I’m told. I heard the screams but didn’t feel like poking my head into the infirmary.”

“What a gruesome curse,” said Varrin.

“Can you cleanse it?” I asked.

“Only if you have a skill to remove curses along with both Divine and Mystical Magic at Level 40 or higher.” He wobbled his hand in a so-so gesture. “There are some other ways, but that’s the easiest.”

“That’s not going to be a common healer,” I mused.

“It won’t matter for us. There’s an ancient machine deeper inside, which will drive out the curse if you feed it the right materials. We will harvest, make some simple items that incorporate a special mana weave, give those to the machine, then leave. The curse is mainly a problem for those without Smithing, or those whose skill is too low.”

“How would the soldiers who didn’t have Smithing have passed through?”

“We’d do the work for them,” Tomomaru replied. “So long as they sacrifice the item, the machine will cure them. The plan was to keep together in a tight group, harvest materials, and make items for everyone who couldn’t do it themselves.”

He stopped and gave me a friendly rap on my breastplate. “Your way will make this much quicker and safer,” he said. “In fact, I feel a bit foolish.” The specialist turned back to the path forward, and we continued to hike across the irregular floor of roots, dirt, and rocks as he spoke. “The farther one travels into the Forest, the more useless things like portals become. It’s easy to forget that your skills still work within such hazards.”

“Have you ever met anyone with a Deific skill before?” I asked.

“I haven’t.”

“It took a lot of training for me to start ignoring instincts like reconsidering teleports against Mystical users or checking for mana tithes on movement abilities. It takes some getting used to.”

Tomomaru considered. “I have spent a lot of time learning how skills work. The paths in my mind are well-worn and difficult to change, so a skill that breaks the rules I’ve spent my life learning presents a new challenge for me. It introduces a moment of hesitation that I am not accustomed to.” He trailed a hand along a thick root that wound along the side of the tunnel.

Guar chuckled, his voice echoing down the tunnel. “Teleports and portals are fine, but this man has an entire kingdom in his inventory. What a skill!”

“That took a lot of luck and a Delve Core,” I said. “Grotto rewired the mana flows within the Closet so that the ambient Dimensional mana was harvested by an obelisk and redirected towards the growth of the space. I can’t claim credit for that one.” I rubbed at my finger where the ring given to me by Fortune was shrunken beneath my gauntlet. “Most of my best abilities are built on the shoulders of more talented people, and some were flat-out gifts.”

“You are humble, but people skills are still skills,” said Tomomaru. “It is a legitimate path to power. Just be careful that you don’t turn into the kind of politician with their head stuffed beneath their tail.”

“Fuck, I hadn’t thought of myself as a politician until this very moment.”

“Live long enough and you will become many things that you never wanted to be,” said Tomomaru. Between the guy’s compressed soul and his occasional cryptic statements, I was getting a real ‘hidden master’ vibe from the dude. “Be sure to stay close together through here. The tunnels will shift and separate us if we get too far apart.”