Chapter 18: Roadside Barters

  //ANOMALY REVIEW REPORT:

  //ACCESS LEVEL: Administrator (Obfuscated)

  //REQUEST SOURCE: Internal Anomaly Monitor – Euclid

  //LOG CONTEXT: Progress Evaluation – Subject #0117–A ("Alex")

  //STATUS: Internal Flag: Pending Review

  START OF RECORD:

  ::://Event Flag: Meridian Imprint Activation//

  //Subject Identifier: Worldstrider [Alexander Pierce]//Core Status: Incomplete (Damaged)//Meridian Pathways: Unlocked [Resilience Imprint I]//Observed Technique: Integration Unique:: anomalous layering of external aether constructs with internal circulatory channels//

  //Performance Evaluated//Adaptive Innovation: Exceptional//Risk Tolerance: Extreme//Deviation from Predicted Behavior: +41%//Overall Rating: Good:: Rising Notability//

  //System Note: Subject continues to defy baseline progression models. Absence of Mage Core offset by irregular but effective integration of foreign constructs. Unlocking of Meridian Imprint at middle Adept-tier survival state is rare—probability <30.2%.//Likelihood of Future Trial Success: Rising (High-Variable)//Behavioral Compliance: 47% (Deviation accelerating)//Encouragement Measures: Elevated: Additional Monitoring: Imminent//

  //System Remark: Subject demonstrates unexpected ingenuity. Outcome potential—worth observing further.//

  :://LOG END//

  ***

  The cloth spread across the dirt, its surface covered with little piles of reagents, scavenged monster parts, dull-cut crystals, gems and stones, and a few other natural treasures, all laid out in messy clusters. Alex crouched over it, rubbing the back of his neck as if staring hard enough might convince the slices of basilisk heart and wolf-drake marrow to magically not cost so damn much gold, and instead let themselves be snagged up for sheer copper.

  He wanted to dive right back into the work, blast open another meridian, and earn another imprint, another boost. The high from yesterday’s success hadn’t left him motivated, but Obby had been annoyingly clear.

  Opening each new meridian was harder than the last. The first was not easy by any means, no, but when compared to the others… The first was like cracking soft clay. The second? More like chipping through half-set concrete. The Third? Boring through a sheet of iron. Every previous unlocked imprint caused the remaining meridian channels to stiffen, harden, basically to calcify. This increased the back pressure, making the next meridian even harder to force aether into, and thus harder to fill.

  And if he waited too long? Well, once he broke into Magus Tier, the window would slam shut. After Adept Tier, one’s aether quality changed, finishing the calcification process entirely. So at that point, the meridians froze completely, locked in their current state forever. Still usable, still flowing with aether in and out, but unchangeable.

  That was why most mages only managed two meridian unlocks, maybe three before moving on. More than that? It was doable, but rare. Opening five of the meridians, legendary. Alex wanted all six…

  Obby explained all this to Alex, convincing him to rest for the night and come up with a plan to further prepare at unlocking the following meridians. Which brought him to Henry and Allie the next morning, explaining everything he had done, and what he had learned.

  “Yes, of course I will help everyone with unlocking their meridians too. But you all need to get your intelligence stat to twenty before the option even opens up.” Alex explained.

  “I’m close, just a bit more.” Allie bit her lip and tsk’d softly. “You think you can do that [Lattice Spiral] enchantment for me?”

  “Uh, I don’t see why not.”

  “Me too.” Henry crossed his arms.

  Holly leaned in over Alex’s shoulder, her lips brushing softly against his ear. “Me three.”

  He smiled, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer to him. “Of course, we can make it a whole thing, all four of us at the same time.”

  “At the same time? No, I don’t like sharing.“ She grinned at him, winking. Alex just rolled his eyes. Allie giggled.

  “If you think Kate and the guys will be okay with being left out, you’re delusional.” Holly added well.

  He sighed heavily, looking through the resources in his bracelet and mentally tallying how much he would have to use for the enchantments on all his friends. It wasn’t a huge sum, but it also wasn’t cheap. And that was only the [Lattice Spiral], he didn’t even have the necessary item for making another artificial body gate for himself, let alone everyone else.

  “I’ll see what I can do, might need to have everyone pitch in. Henry, how are those herbs we talked about for the Wyrm-heart?”

  “Still no ready yet,” the burly man shook his head.

  “Fuck, alright, keep me updated so Allie and I can make preparation.” Alex was itching to finally use the Wyvern blood he had collected so many days ago. Things like herbology just took too much patience for his liking.

  That wasn’t even getting into the basilisk eyes he now had, or its venom sack, which Allie had gotten, something he was sure could help with his constitution as well. He also needed to heavily re-focus time to his cultivation to increase his [Aether Attuned Body] which he had been neglecting for other projects. There was just so much to do, and so little time.

  And so little resources to fund it all.

  But for now, he’d take what he could get. Which meant he needed more resources to prepare for the upgrades, rare ones, ones he didn’t have.

  That was why he was here, kneeling in front of half the damn caravan, looking over a collection of items laid out on a cloth like some street vendor about to be heckled out of business. The mercenaries crowded in loose knots around him, arms crossed, hands near weapons, giving him that particular look he was starting to recognize all too well. The look of wary distrust, half-baked egotistical superiority, and the lingering thought that maybe they’d be doing everyone a favor if they put the weird human down before he got to become an even bigger threat.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Not everyone looked at him that way, many had small hints of respect and awe. But there were enough who looked otherwise, more than enough.

  “Look,” Alex said, trying not to sound desperate. “I’m not trying to cheat anyone. I’ve got coin, I’ve got trade stock, hell, I’ll even owe favors if that’s what it takes. But I want these. So name your price.”

  The silence that followed wasn’t exactly promising.

  Obby snickered in the back of his head, the sound laced with amusement. “They don’t like you, meatboy. They smell the fear, or maybe it’s the crazed ambition. Either way, you’re dangling fresh meat over a pack of starving dogs.”

  Alex clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stay still while the mercs, smirked, and muttered out of the corners of their mouths about him. He hated this part, the games, the power posturing, just like the political bullshit they dealt with back in Terraxum. Like the events and charity balls he was forced to attend as a kid, and as a teen. But he couldn’t walk away. Not this time.

  Because without these reagents and materials, his crazy ideas were just that. Ideas.

  The first jeer came from a scarred woman with, as far as Alex was concerned, far too many knives strapped across her chest.

  “Careful, boy. You keep begging like that, I might start thinking you’re desperate. And desperation?” She tapped one blade against her palm. “That drives the price way, way up.”

  Her partner, a wiry man with a crooked nose, barked a laugh. “What’s the offer now, Tennia? Triple? Four times market?”

  “Why stop there? He’s already frothing for it.” Another merc snorted. Then man then spit in the dirt near Alex’s flame-decaled boots. “How about five? Maybe he sells us his bone marrow next time for a discount.”

  The chuckles spread through the circle. Alex kept his face blank, but his hand twitched at his side, aether energy flickering subtly under his skin. He wanted to snarl, to shove their smug little faces into the dirt, but he needed this. Needed them.

  Obby cackled inside his skull. “Ooooh, this is good. Look at them poke the wolf. How long before you snap and eat all their mage cores, meatboy? Place your bets!”

  Alex drew in a long breath through his nose, steadying his building anger. He could take it. For now.

  That was when the crowd shifted, opening almost naturally as one of the merc squad leaders stepped forward. He was broad-shouldered, his heavy armor still scratched and scraped from the basilisk fight, but his posture was as sturdy as bedrock. The faint blue tint of his skin caught the light, giving him an almost metallic sheen.

  “Cresselian,” Obby supplied the word with smug authority. “A race with blood that had once run in caverns deep under mountains, cousins to dwarves, but stretched tall and carved from smarter stuff. Some think they are more related to elves than they’d likely admit.”

  The man’s name came to mind easily, Beithin; Alex remembered him clearly. The earth-attuned tank who—along with his second in command—had weathered the basilisk mother’s fury long enough for the rotations to hold. The man had a stern face, square jaw, and blue eyes that didn’t wander. Alex got the impression that he wasn’t some cocky vulture sniffing for easy coin, he was a wall of a man, forged by violence, just as Ghrukk was.

  Beithin looked over the items that lay on the cloth, then over at Alex. His lips pulled into a grin that revealed rows of sharp pointed teeth.

  “You’re a stubborn one,” he rumbled, the words coming out in a sound stony low tones. Crackly but not grating. “And stubborn men burn fast in our line of work. So let’s make this simple.” The murmurs died around him as he went on. “You and I fight in a straight match. No killing, no maiming, nothing that’ll cripple either of us. If you win, you get your stock here, half price. No more haggling and highballing, and no more games. If I win, you pay the highest bid one of my people’s already thrown.”

  The crowd stirred again, some grinning, some whispering wagers on the fight already.

  Alex stayed still, eyes narrowing. He switched on his [Aether Sight] just enough to feel the man’s spiritual weight. He wasn’t a disappointment, his aether flowed through him in condensed, powerful cycles. The core pressure radiating from Beithin was undeniable; he was middle Adept Tier, further along than Alex himself.

  Obby hummed in his head, far too delighted by this realization. “Oh hooo… juicy. This one’s a step above you, squishy. But look at those elemental hues, earth attunement, defensive build. He's a classic wall. You could crack him. Might break your hands doing it, but oooh, what a gamble.”

  Alex weighed the possibilities in his mind. Beithin wasn’t mocking him like the other mercs were. He wasn’t spitting in the dirt or sneering from behind another man’s shoulder. He was putting down a line, an honest one. The risk? High. The reward? Higher.

  And truth be told, Alex wanted this. He had new upgrades to try out, and heightened stats to play with. The basilisk mother wasn’t a good choice to compare himself to, Arcane Beasts had stats in different leagues. Ghrukk was a good test, but he didn’t have the spiritual weight that Beithin had. The Cresselian was closer to human than an Ork. Alex would be able to gauge himself against Beithin and really see where he stood against other human mages.

  His lips tugged into the faintest smile. “Deal.”

  The grin on Beithin’s face widened, as if a crack splitting through stone.

  The circle around the two men widened almost instinctively. Boots scraped against dirt as mercenaries stepped back, giving the two of them space. Someone called for wagers, and the rattle of coin purses pierced the sudden hum of excitement at random intervals.

  Alex exhaled through his nose, placid and calm on the outside. On the inside? His pulse was hammering. His heart rate rising as he felt his excitement begin to climb. He glanced to the side, seeing through the circle of mercenaries that the other worldstriders where watching a good distance away. None of them exactly look surprised, as if they had expected Alex to end up in a fight somehow.

  Am I really that predictable?

  Beithin shrugged off his heavy shield and warhammer, letting them drop into the dirt with a pair of thuds that kicked up clouds of dirt and grass. “Bare hands,” he said simply, flexing fingers that looked more like rough blue-hued stone than actual flesh. The blue tint of his skin deepened as veins of earthen aether glowed faintly beneath. He was a living mountain preparing to move.

  “Yeesh. Look at him. That’s not a man, that’s a wall with legs. Think your strong enough to break through him without snapping your pretty little meat-appendages.” Obby continued to make mental jabs at Alex, literally.

  He’s middle-stage Adept, Alex thought back, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. Same as me. Maybe his foundation’s more stable than mine. His core pressure’s denser. But that doesn’t mean everything. As far as I can tell, my stats are still rather bloated compared to Holly, Kate, Eric and the others. So, I might be stronger than him. And if not, well I guess I’ll be paying a lot of gold soon.

  “Oh, don’t be such a baby. You’ve got options, Martial Skills, Spells, use them. He’s got raw size, yes, but that doesn’t mean you can’t still carve him up and eat him. You’re the knife, he’s the turkey. It’s a classic, David and Goliath, mouse and elephant.”

  Alex smirked faintly despite himself.

  Across the make-shift ring, Beithin crouched slightly, shoulders squared, the weight of his stance settling into the ground. He was all discipline, every movement economic and measured.

  All around them the mercenaries hooted and hollered, some chanting Beithin’s name, others heckling Alex with jeers about broken bones and crushed ribs.

  He ignored them, running a hand along his bracer, where the aether gems still sat, each filled with energy. It wasn’t a whole lot, compared to a full mage core, but Alex knew more about aether control than perhaps any other Adept Tier mage outside the immensely educated scions of the World’s Empires, such as the Urhara Empire scions.

  “You sure about this, little human?” Beithin asked. Alex could tell that he wasn’t mocking, just checking.

  Alex met his gaze. “I won’t back out.”

  Obby clapped in his mind, someone how creating a grotesque echo of slapping wet tentacles. “Atta boy! Now remember, wear him down, break the rhythm, use your [Demon Asura] stuff to cut him apart from the inside. Oh, and if you do lose, I’m telling everyone you cried about it.”

  Alex, as he usually did with Obby’s rants, ignored him, bending his knees, and lowering his center of gravity. His muscles tensed in anticipation, tight and ready. His eyes locked on the Cresselian in front of him. The circle went quiet, even the merchants and wagon drakes seeming to hush, the very air muted under the intense audience.

  Beithin raised one fist in a warrior’s salute. “Then let’s test your mettle.”

  Alex mirrored the gesture.

  The silence shattered as someone in the crowd barked a shout: “Begin!”