New System, Who Dis?

Tuesday, April 16th, 2069

“I’ve got some more bad news,” Smegma said, as we began mining the following day. It had been a rather long night of explaining the horrible news of the pre-trial to my family, over, and over again. So, Smegma uttering those words instantly put a spike of hot iron into my gut.

[What is it?] I asked as I pummeled an F-rank mana crystal into shards.

“Your Strength stat didn’t go up at all yesterday,” Smegma grumbled, the simple statement sounding like a pronouncement of death by the tone of the demon imp. I waited for more, even pausing in mining to rub the back of my forearm over my forehead to clear the sweat.

Today’s dungeon was all underground. A cave system that likely was extremely deep on the ‘planet’ we currently were on. Why did I think that? Well, the heat that radiated from the rocks surrounding us, suggested that we were likely closer to the core, than we were to the surface. Or at least that’s what the Lynx guild also believed.

Finally, I had enough and prompted, [And?]

“It seems you have to be present to receive the Mana Spillage from the enchant,” Smegma explained, his voice hysterical, like this news should send me into suicidal thoughts.

[Still not picking up what you’re laying down, Champ.]

“Well, I mean you could have owned a business and just sat back as your stats and skills came pouring in, Chief.”

I rolled my eyes. Only a fat, lazy demon imp—

“Hey, that’s totally uncalled for!” That lazy imp complained.

[Whatever. As far as ‘bad’ news goes—that’s like a one on the Richter Scale I’m currently reading from. The rest of the shit going on ranks around an eight. Just for reference…]

I continued to shard when I realized something. Something I probably should have asked Smegma a while ago. [Umm, Smegma you probably know what the locked stats are right?]

[Took you long enough. But nope, not a clue, dumb-dumb,] Smegma said as I set up to mine a perfect crystal. I paused and looked pointedly at him, and he got the hint. [We didn’t have a stat called Strength. Crendalar Five had three primary stats, and some hidden ones that only a few people possessed.]

My pick tinged into the soil and I felt the head hit the stem of the Crystal perfectly, severing the thing in a single swing. It felt good, brightening my mood, until I realized that Smegma wasn’t going to offer further explanation—which admittedly annoyed me. [And those three stats were!]

“What the husk do you care, you clearly have seven—” I glared at the imp even as I sold the crystal. “Ughhh. Whatever, fine. The three main stats were Martial Power, Magic and Force. Do you need a description of what these stats did too?”

[That would be fantastic.]

“Why do you husking need to know when you don’t have them?” I mentally gave the demon a look and he sighed, clearly annoyed. “I guess I’ve got nothing better to do, anyway. Okay, Martial Power was the strength of body and came with a pool of energy we called Endurance. Some people also referred to it as Stamina. In essence it was just a gauge of how long you could continue to physically exert yourself before your body became weakened. You follow me?”

I nodded, clearly understanding his point thanks to role playing video games. Some of those possessed a stamina bar that you needed to let recharge from time to time. Smegma began picking his teeth with a taloned claw as he continued.

“Magic determined how powerful your spells and skills were while also decreasing how much of your Mana pool activation of said skills would cost. It goes without saying that the resource pool for the Magic stat was Mana. Finally, force. This stat was the least understood but also widely varied in use. Force could add damage to physical strikes, magic spells, be used for telekinesis and even just create an aura that would weaken others. It manifested differently for each person, but you could train yourself to have it mimic what others did.”

About midway through Smegma’s description I realized that like he had thought, his description of stats wasn’t going to help me. Clearly, based on the operating system updates to Demonic Vault, the system had gone through many changes before arriving on Earth. That of course begged the question of why it needed to?

“That’s the million-dollar question,” Smegma mumbled. “If you figure out why the system does what it does, please let me know.” The second part was clearly meant to try to lighten the serious mood. Unfortunately, I had too much ‘serious’ on my mind, and Smegma’s lame attempt at humor didn’t break me.

“Okay, grouchy pants, I’ll leave you alone then,” Smegma whined, before flying away through the cavern ceiling. I shook my head, not understanding why Smegma was pouting over my mood. [Cause you’re a buzz kill,] Smegma mentally explained.

[You really should stop reading my thoughts then, husktard,] I responded but got no response. I had to assume that this all stemmed back from Smegma’s bad news. I examined why it was such horrible news from Smegma’s point of view and arrived at one conclusion. Smegma had been harboring a hope that I could become powerful quickly by giving people enchanted gathering gear.

My head shook in exasperation. Nothing in this world was free. I’d learned that years ago when I started my Mana Bank to the stars Swiftgram account. While others had made it look easy. Had made it seem like it was practically handed to them—I instantly discovered and now intrinsically knew, that wasn’t the case. It was the forward-facing façade of an iceberg of hard work.

The steady thump and tinging of my pickaxe kept my thoughts company as I began thinking of the actual problems in my life. I was about to be on trial for second degree manslaughter. I was innocent and knew it, so surely the jury would find the same thing, right?

I’d seen enough Hollywood crime shows and real life documentaries to know that wasn’t always true. Yet it was pretty farfetched to think that Mr. Varnish was going to be able to prove that I killed Morgan Hallsbrad for his skills. That absurdity raised a far more potent question. Who was behind Mr. Varnish?

Ms. Stovall after the pre-trial had been furious with her team and herself. I’d only heard a bit of the barrage she’d been starting as I left her office, but it seemed that Mr. Varnish replacing the state prosecutor was a last-minute thing—that she felt they should have known about. Which was why the question. Why would someone like Mr. Varnish take on a case like mine?

Morgan Hallsbrad had definitely not been a private investigator—despite whatever paperwork the judge and Ms. Stovall were handed…

I worked like that until lunch, my thoughts circling each other uselessly like a boy and a girl at an eighth-grade dance. Every so often Smegma mentally told me how pointless my maudlin was but I ignored the pouty demon—even sending barbs back his way, when I thought of a good one.

“Did you hear?” Willa said excitedly as she looked between my father and me—both of us were eating our portal-ham and American singles sandwiches. I raised my eyebrows and looked at my father who was smiling widely. I shook my head. “Jarred is coming to work with us starting tomorrow!”

“That fast?” I asked, my voice carrying my excitement and surprise.

“Yeah, Ella came around. Well, I’m sure it wasn’t that easy, but the important part is that Jarred is going to work with us—and Ella may retake her position as an office administrator.”

“May?” I asked, attempting to mimic my father’s tone, when he said that word.

“She’s thinking about it,” Willa chimed in. I groaned and saw both of the two adult’s faces fall in unison. “Honestly, she probably needs a shrink more than Brodie…”

“Willa!” my dad said, and I laughed at Willa’s apologetic wince.

“Sorry, Brodie, I didn’t mean—”

“Willa, it’s fine. Honestly, I only have to go to eight more sessions with Evelyn.” Willa looked at me with narrowed eyes and then glanced at my father, seeming to look for permission. Which apparently she either got, or took his lack of noticeable response, by me, as an affirmative.

“How are you okay with all this, Brodie?” Willa voiced. I could tell that she only had my concern in mind, and from the way that my father leaned in—he also wanted an answer to this question.

I guess that’s why he’d not given Willa a shake of his head.

Taking a deep breath, I thought about the question, before finally sighing and saying, “I’m not really okay. I was fine with the assault because I beat the guy—protected myself from him. You know?” I got nods and clenched fists in response, and continued, “Now? Now, I’m really lost.

“How can the court send me to trial for defending myself?” I finished after a pause.

“Don’t worry Bro,” my dad said instantly reaching over to squeeze my shoulder. Hard. “They will find you innocent.”

Willa spoke instantly after my father finished. “Someone did die, Brodie. So, they’ve gotta do the dueligigence.”

“Due diligence,” my dad corrected fondly.

I chose to point out the rather glaring flaw in their thoughts. “But then why did the Crown Prosecutor get switched with Mr. Varnish?”

“Did you look into him?” Willa asked. I nodded but threw up both my hands to say that the internet had failed me. Which was strange considering that almost all top tier lawyers had websites, SwiftGram, Smilebook, and JackedIn profiles. Ms. Stovall for example.

“Maybe he’s new?” my dad suggested.

“Fat husking chance,” Smegma commented from somewhere in the cavern. I licked my teeth and looked around for the imp—pretending to be thinking.

“I don’t think he’s new. He was too well dressed and frankly good at his job. Ms. Stovall is excellent, but even she seemed surprised by how much effort this guy put in to twisting the facts,” I explained.

“Maybe he work for mob,” Dave added from his seat with Fat Gary. I had kind of forgot their presence because they had been so quiet. I looked at Dave then and found him shrugging as he went back to eating. Clearly conveying that it was just a thought. The fact that the man’s brain went somewhere so dark, likely told a story about his past, but that didn’t make it any less possible. Right?

“It definitely fits,” Smegma said.

My father scoffed and spoke simultaneously. “No way, Dave. Come on, a mobster in Windsor? Why would they care?”

“I don’t know,” Fat Gary said patting Dave on the back in a consoling way. “This Haller guy was from the states right? Operated up the east coast, and ended in New York? Sounds possible. That or cartel?” Fat Gary finished in a whisper

Dave shivered, and Fat Gary squeezed his shoulder, like my dad had done mine. I decided to change the subject. “Either way, I think this lawyer is pretty well funded, and whoever is behind him seems to want something out of this.”

“How do you figure?” my dad asked.

“Well, even if you hired a private investigator to track a murderer, would you care if something happened to the guy?”

“Depends how long I’ve worked wit da guy,” Willa said. At the shocked looks she said, “What? I watch crime shows!”

“Even then, Morgan Hallsbrad was a piece of shit, and is being tried for multiple counts of murder—who would be willing to exonerate someone like that? Plus, why isn’t Mr. Varnish representing him in any of those other cases?”

“He isn’t?” my dad asked. I shook my head as answer.

“So, you’re saying that someone is specifically targeting your case?” Willa asked.

[I’m saying someone is specifically targeting me,] I mentally said. Refusing to admit that particularly terrifying truth in front of Fat Gary and Dave. To the group I just shrugged, which brought about a pretty profound silence.

“Why don’t we start discussing what veins to tap?” my dad said, changing the subject. I allowed Willa and him to start assessing even as Smegma flew down to hover beside me.

“You know you should probably tell your family the whole truth at this point.”

I reached up and ran a hand through my sweaty hair. This wasn’t going to be a pleasant conversation.