Origin ARS 6 Read online

  The beast brought over a dozen mechanical arms to the fight. Each of them was tipped with a cutting or drilling implement. It was hard to get in close, and even more difficult to get away once an attack began.

  On the verge of collapse, he downed one of the few restorative items that he allowed himself to purchase. While the miracle of modern magical alchemy performed its healing work, he kept a wary eye on the murderous contraption.

  Scott's problem with the slow moving scrap pile was that he did not have an effective ranged weapon. Even his celestial spell proved to be less effective than he would have liked. Technically, the beast was a spirit inhabiting a machine. Despite that fact, the nature of its existence did not translate entirely to undead status. Perhaps it held some sort of innate defense against celestial power? It was possible, but hard to say. It should be no different than a zombie, except for the fact that its body was comprised of random junk.

  Herbert dodged past a buzz saw arm then dived inward toward the center of the beast. The cape wearing rodent launched himself up into the air then landed with a hard double-kick to the monster's refrigerator body. The result was a small dent, and a re-orientation of all of the mechanical arms toward the attacking Grassrat.

  Scott saw that as an opening for an attack of his own. He rushed in and performed a powerful spinning heel kick that slammed into scrap beast from the opposite side. The new dent was much deeper than the old one, but it was not nearly enough to end the fight.

  His arm was healing, but it was still too injured to be used effectively. The bleeding was slowed greatly, but the pain was excruciating whenever the damaged limb moved. However, that did not stop him from following his attack up with a brutal kick to one of the closest mechanical arms. As both luck and Scott's current skill would have it, his heel impacted one of the mechanical beast's arm joints. It was loosely constructed from random scrap. There was no way that the annoying creature could withstand the force of Scott's blow at such a location.

  A loud combination of a cracking sound and the scream of overstressed metal split the air. The arm joint was weakened considerably after the attack. Suddenly, the tide began to turn. The fighters had discovered a path to victory.

  The only saving grace in this battle was that the monster was a bit on the slow side. It could attack quickly once its limbs were lined up, but it took a few seconds to put them in place. In some ways, the beast was like a cross between a hermit crab, a refrigerator, and one of those mechanical arm crane games. It must be lined up perfectly to get the prize. The prize of course, was sawing or drilling into Scott's sweet manly meats.

  Fighting with renewed vigor, the sorcerer and his rodent brother kept the pressure on during the fight. The refrigerator body was battered with kicks, while the dynamic duo did their best to avoid receiving what could easily be considered a deadly attack sequence.

  It was a ruse. The real goal was to disorient the mechanical monstrosity to the point that Scott would be able to kick one of its arm joints.

  Herbert had it easiest during the battle, even if his attacks also did the least damage. The hermit crab refrigerator monster faced difficulty when it tried to accurately striking at the speedy little rodent. His task became that of the aggressive guy who kept most of the monster's attention.

  Not all of the beast's attention was stolen by the agile rodent, however. Scott was forced to duck under an incoming saw blade strike. Luckily he was not foolish enough to remain in place when he did so. He immediately rolled to the left in the process of evading the attack, and narrowly avoided a sudden downturn of the whirling blade. Out of the weapons that the possessed scrap pile could bring to bear, the saw blades were the most difficult to deal with at any given moment. The drill attacks would only lunge forward, but the saws would occasionally swerve downward without warning.

  The battle continued unabated for several tense minutes. Outside of a few minor lacerations and a near-miss from another drill attack, neither of the two received another injury. Eventually, the murderous mechanical hermit crab fell to the ground and sputtered its last pitiful sputter.

  Neither man nor Grassrat ceased the battle at that point, however. They continued to beat on the machine just to be certain. Once they finally tired of pounding on the scrap heap, they set about taking it apart to find decent salvage.

  "Man, this thing was a pain in the ass," said Scott as he tore off one of the mechanical arms. Most of the metal was rusty garbage, but one of the motor joints seemed to be in good working order. It would be worth a few copper at least.

  Scrap metal by itself, mostly steel, was only work a few copper coins per hundred pounds. It was not worth lugging it all over the countryside without a heavy duty truck to haul it. The cores and occasional working parts weighed much less, but were each worth a good deal more.

  Herbert squeaked excitedly then patted the side of the refrigerator. Scott moved to investigate then grinned after he saw what had gotten the little fellow so worked up. "Now that was worth it."

  Scott reached into the refrigerator body and ripped out several wires that were attached to the largest core that they had found so far. "Looks like the entire casing is made of aluminum, too."

  Copper, aluminum, and silver were sometimes found inside the beasts. Those metals were worth their weight and should always be carried back to town.

  Outside of the core, a few servo-motors, and the bits of various scrap metals worth scrapping, there was not much else of value. Scott calculated that the core was probably worth about eight normal cores. It was not a major find, but it was equal to beating eight of the weaker scrap heaps that they faced previously. It would be more than enough to finish up their core collector mission. The metal price would vary, but along with the motors they would probably see a full silver after coming their way after this fight. Dangerous, but the battle was worth it in the end.

  Scott reached over and checked his arm. The health tonic helped a bit, but the wound was still deep. "What say we pack it in for the day, buddy? Rhea's coming back tomorrow. We might as well settle up some of these missions."

  Herbert nodded in response then waddled over to the wheelbarrow. He would get a free ride back to town, while the injured man had to push the haul. The perks of being small and badass were not wasted on the little fellow.

  The long walk back gave the duo time to consider recent events. They'd fought long and hard as a team, though their skills and experience barely increased. The focus on actively building wealth, and acquiring better equipment, was one that allowed them to grow in different ways. Recently, they had traded the ability to level up quickly for financial gain.

  "You did good back there Herbert," said Scott.

  The Grassrat raised up one paw and waved him off. It was no big deal to him.

  On the way back, Scott considered the way things went that day. The refrigerator hermit crab creature was not particularly strong, but it possessed a lot of short range attack avenues. He could not afford a firearm at the moment. Finding one in the field would have to wait until his group could penetrate deeper into the area. Till then, a different sort of ranged weapon might be a good idea. Magical ranged attacks would take a while to develop into a proper attack tool.

  Time passed and they eventually reached town. The local scrap yard was as popular as ever. They rarely saw another hunting party out in the wilds, but back in town it was common to see a few dozen people in line to complete quests or to sell scrap.

  Scott and Herbert got in line behind a tall man in a jump suit. The word man might be a bit off, however. He had dark blue skin, and a mass of tentacles where his chin should be. Everything about him except for the squid chin and skin color seemed quite normal, however.

  The squid man began to mumble after a while. "Whose brain do I have to suck to get this line moving?"

  The brain sucking enthusiast continued to mutter and bemoan the line for quite some time. Every now and then he would look at someone and his tentacles would wriggle in agitation.r />
  Lines took time to deal with. That was their nature. No matter how long an individual had to wait, it was usually too long. The scrap yard line did move, however. Eventually, squid face got the chance to turn in his quest and a handful of servo-motors. He received his payment and left in a huff. His time was quite important, after all.

  Scott wheeled the group salvage over to the weigh station, and then began to separate everything into different empty bins set aside for each kind of item that the yard was interested in buying. The items were weighed, and he was given a sales slip that included a mission complete statement.

  "Alright," said the cat-eared girl working at the payout desk. "With mission pay included... That comes to twenty-three silver."

  "What? Seriously?" asked Scott. Herbert stared wide-eyed at the cheerful woman. Neither of them could believe the result.

  "Oh yes, we just sent off our collected load of copper and aluminum so we are giving out the best prices for the day."

  "Hey, I'm not complaining. It's more than I expected," said Scott. He had calculated eighteen silver at most for everything they had salvaged that day, mission pay included.

  Scott collected payment and then paid a few coppers to store the wheelbarrow. Finished with work for the day, the dynamic duo opted to return to Valkovia on the next train. Rhea and Scott had made plans for her return to ARS. Since actually meeting up would take time anyway, they decided to make a day of it.

  A quick dinner was shared between the two before Scott and Herbert's train arrived. It was a bit more populated this time when compared to the last, but there were fewer persons of interest. The most notable was another squid-faced individual. A young girl by all indications.

  Scott played with his Crysta-Com for a while before a conversation caught his interest. Two teenage boys, humans by the look of them, were talking to the girl with the squidly heritage.

  "Come on baby, you can tell us," said one of the boys. He looked to be in his mid-teen years, perhaps fourteen or fifteen. His friend was roughly similar in age.

  "I am not your, baby," said the girl, her tentacles writhing in agitation.

  "Why not? You ain't too bad lookin' for a squid," said the youth.

  "I am aware of my beauty. Thank you," she said in a non-comital manner. She then sighed loudly and crossed her arms over her chest.

  The boys persisted, however. The second youth asked, "You ever use those tentacles for anything fun?"

  Another loud sigh echoed through the train car. Her disinterest caused the teens to become even bolder.

  "Lookit this one! She thinks she's too good for us," said the first boy.

  "Yeah, stuck-up squid," said the second boy in a loud and obnoxious voice.

  Scott rolled his eyes. It never failed with some guys. If a girl wasn't into them, it had to be her fault.

  The boys continued to pester the girl for quite some time, until she grew fed-up with them and chose to change seats. The only available seat happened to be adjacent to the one Scott shared with Herbert.

  "Excuse me. Do you mind if I sit here?" asked the girl.

  "Feel free. I don't own the train," said Scott with a smile.

  The boys gave him a death glare, but he ignored them. Instead he moved a few of his things over onto his lap so that she could sit down.

  "I see you've had a hard trip so far," he said pleasantly.

  Her tentacles shifted a little and she sighed in response. "It would be nice if I could take one train ride without some brat or other seeing me as a piece of meat."

  "Is it really so bad?" asked Scott. He had never heard that chicks with squids for chins were some sort of sexual prize.

  "Are you from around here?" she asked him curiously.

  "Not really, no."

  "Ah. Well..." Her eyes closed part of the way and the skin of her cheeks darkened to a slightly deeper shade of blue. "There's a stupid stereotype about the females of my race."

  "Oh? What would that be?"

  "It's embarrassing..." she said.

  One of the boys answered for her by calling out, loudly, "Them squilanti chicks give head so good it blows your mind!"

  She hissed at the rude little shit, her tentacles flailing in annoyance. "Was your mother a goat, you rude child?"

  "What did you say about my mama?" asked the annoyed little shit.

  "She had to be a goat for you to be raised to bleat any stupid thing you wished to say without concern for those around you!" The angered squilanti girl crossed her arms over her voluminous bosom and made a huffing noise.

  It was not long before a security officer made her way back to the scene of the growing argument. When she found out the reason for why it started, the boys were made to leave the train at the next stop.

  "I can see why you get annoyed by stuff like that," said Scott.

  She looked to him, and her left most tentacle wriggled. "Yes, it is quite annoying. While it is true that my people have certain skills... That does not mean that we're interested in using them on just anyone whom we run across."

  Scott smiled at her once more, but did not answer. He was not sure what to say to that, and it was possible that anything he did say might be mistaken for something else.

  After a brief silence passed, he changed the subject. They chatted about her people, and what little he knew about his supposed people. They traded stories about their lives and passed the time in a friendly manner.

  At the next stop, Scott's temporary train companion rose from her seat then prepared to leave. She turned to him and said, "If you like, you should bring your fiancé with you to visit my family estate sometime. I am certain that my father would enjoy meeting you both. He has a certain interest in sorcery and in the natural magic of the elven peoples."

  "I'll keep that in mind. It's out in the Salt Marsh region in the far western territory, right?" asked Scott.

  "Yes, correct." Her tentacles swayed in a gentle manner that Scott took to be something again to a smile among her people. The expression of her eyes certainly suggested it.

  "Perhaps we will see you later then, Ms. Amiscoototiloanosci."

  "You remembered my name?" Her eyes widened slightly. "Most humans end up mangling it, badly."

  "I'll probably live up to that reputation next time," he said with a grin.

  She laughed warmly, her tentacles wriggling in a happy sort of way. "That seems a fair possibility. See you later then."

  Scott's new associate left the train after that. The rest of the trip back was made in relative silence. He did not know whether they would indeed visit the girl's home, but it was nice to meet new people. "Hmm, Rhea did want to do more as a couple..."

  Thoughts of coupledom dancing through his head, Scott left the train in a slight daze. He did not realize that three sets of eyes peered at him from the dark. One set of which was quite beady. In a not so subtle whisper, Beady Eyes said, "See. Told you we'd see him get off the train if we waited here long enough. Let's get him."

  "This guy's AFK," said the elven girl while gesturing to the third member of the trio. His eyes were open, but he was obviously asleep.

  Beady Eyes looked over to his lightly snoring companion and groaned. "Well don't that beat all!"

  He set about slapping the guy around for wasting their golden opportunity. He'd have more than a few minor bruises when he returned.

  ***

  Night in the city was a time of whimsy, of wonder. No one seemed to sleep in Valkovia. Scott looked down from the balcony of his hotel room, and spent time thinking about the people and vehicles moving down below. In many ways, at this distance, the city was like any decently sized town from Earth. Only closer inspection would show that the people were often made different than the normal mass of humanity he had been accustomed to throughout his life.

  "I wonder what they would act like if they knew..," said Scott, a slight frown on his lips. The citizenry went busily about their lives. Many of them had no serious concerns in the world save for their current a
rmed conflict with the Storm Tyrant.

  The time for the board to act was well over a decade away, potentially. It was strange to Scott, even so. How would the people of Earth react if the situation these people faced was forced onto them instead? What if they were suddenly forced to fight for the survival of the human race? How would they react when they discovered that it was because a handful of people did not think the current world was profitable enough? Worse. The ones who might choose to end everything did so despite the fact that they lost nothing truly remarkable if they did not destroy the place.

  Money was essentially meaningless to the gods due to the fact that they lived an immortal existence. The ones who might kill off the people of this world, would do so solely because it was in character for their particular human-like lifestyle.

  Scott ran his fingers through his hair then took a deep breath. "How strong do I need to be to have a chance of taking down the Lords of Terror, anyway?"

  Leveling required a great deal more effort in this world. Constant battle only took someone so far. He had to complete missions, interact with the locals, and train. For the next few years Rhea was going to be left behind when it came to such things. Most of their time together would have to focus on completing missions. It was necessary for the possibility of buying more time, but it was also problematic.

  The biggest difficulty was the fact that his profession required more attention to detail. It provided incredible capacity for growth and customization, but he literally needed to build his powers from the ground up.

  "Ero will be back with us in a few weeks. Rhea's going to be here for a few days." Scott bit his lower lip then slowly nodded his head. "I need a training plan."

  He considered the possibilities before, but he came to the conclusion that he needed a definite training regimen. Scott went back into the room and sat down at a table. He spent a short time scribbling down training ideas.

  Currently, his training was a bit haphazard. He needed to spend time trying different methods for creating spells. Now that he had done so for the most part, there were a few things that he needed to work on aside from that. He needed to work on his physical skills, but there was also one class of magical energy that he had ignored for the most part outside of limited study in the library.