Chapter One Hundred Twenty One

Ilyelanralo burned with rage for the first time. This eccentric plays with my responsibilities! He Must… he WILL learn his place! Ilyelanralo had cried out several times, even given the bait almost a small bell of time to return, but still he did not come. Rage grew and burned and finally he cried out once again.

"All slaves, return now!"

The guards, trained and taught to echo the command at the perfect beat following his cry echoed out the same, shouting in time with Ilyelanralo's cry to reinforce and increase its volume, "Return now!"

But, their shout snapped Ilyelanralo's last patience and he cut them all off with a burning hatred, "Silence! Do not shout or overtop my cry!"

Ilyelanralo glared around at the other guards before bellowing out again, "All slaves, return now! Mustering yard!"

Ilyelanralo waited, but heard no returning footsteps and struggled to maintain the propriety of his station even as he stared down with imperious rage upon those beneath him. The rest cowered before him, as they should. And even the few that had aligned themselves to the eccentric were wise enough to keep respectful silent attention. The eccentric, however, continued to play the fool, gaze easily distracted and no respect given as he stood lazily and without concern. Rage spiked, and Ilyelanralo almost allowed his anger to take him. His teeth ground together in absolute frustration even as he closed his eyes to try and regain control before he snapped them open again and glanced at his primary slave guard.

"Bring me the eccentric's controller!"

A guard scrambled off back to his villa while Ilyelanralo turned back to the crowd, "Our resident eccentric believes he is clever. He believes he can beat me. He believes he can beat dozens of galyears of slave guild and collar artifacts. He will learn that such a belief is foolish. Shall we teach this to him?"

Ilyelanralo allowed his vindictive glee to shine through as he looked across the crowd of slaves in the mustering yard, all but one despairing.

* * *

Joe watched on as the slave master grew angrier until he began shouting at everyone. Maintaining his disinterested insanity was simple and ignoring the itch to obey burned just at the edge of what was acceptable. The slave master never asked, so he could continue to keep his mouth shut. To distract himself, he began keeping an eye on those around him as well as the slave master. Worry grew as he noted how disturbed or enraged some of the slaves were getting. It got even worse when he quickly noticed the vindictive glee of the slave master. This… isn't going to be good. Even as he knew it was going to be bad, the immediacy of the moment hammered home the reality; knowledge becoming real adding fear and nervous tension.

The slave guard the slave master had sent running came back with the tool that was used against him and Joe struggled to keep his face passive. Not going to be good! Joe struggled to maintain his passivity even as the slave continued haranguing the crowd. Then, it began.

Joe collapsed to the ground even as the slave master used his controller to inflict pain. He twisted up into a fetal curl but fought to maintain awareness and quickly noticed that some of the slaves were on the ground in pain like him and some were moaning in pleasure. The pain lasted a long, long time and it clouded his mind, making it difficult for him to think. However, the pain numbed and soon his mind began to clear, slightly, and he quickly realized that those in pain were the ones who sided with him. The rest got pleasure rewarded. Joe breathed deeply, focusing, and the pain faded into the background even as he maintained the fiction of the amount of pain he was actually experiencing. Pain titles working … I guess…

Joe basically worked to duplicate the painful performances of those around him and then kind of just let himself go into the experience. Zero out of ten, would not recommend… Joe stifled the chuckle to himself. Ironically, the longer it went on, the easer and easer it got for Joe, pain becoming a kind of burning itch more than anything else. Despite the reduction of the actual pain, something was happening in the collar that essentially locked him up, bodily. That did not make him happy, so he began working against it, mainly only trying to control the way his limbs moved.

As luck would have it, the slave master was incredibly angry and the session went on for some time taking up most of the morning. Lots of time to practice… thanks man… Sarcasm quickly became a refuge, the feeling of mockery giving him some subtle sense of superiority and strength to add to his resistance. Still, he kept most of his focus on the others and matched his performance to theirs.

Finally, the event ended, the slave master still in a cold rage, but he turned away and returned to his villa. The rest lay panting on the floor in pain or pleasure and a lot of exhaustion. Joe did not move, moaning and rolling around similar to the rest. The first few began to rise, but he waited until he was in the middle of the pack and one of the last of those who had pain inflicted upon them. Then, things quickly went back to normal. A completely screwed up and unpleasant normal. And deep within Joe a small kernel of glee and vindictive success hardened within his rage.

* * *

Things really didn't change much after that except that Joe now wandered the camp multiple times each day, whittling and practicing his mana, albeit personal and not system. He even began to add in some exercises for his arms, unique skills and abilities now that he no longer had legs. And throughout it all, a certain lightness buoyed him up. He'd gotten one over on the slave master and that gave him hope and joy much more than anything else. It wasn't much, but it didn't need to be for on the other fronts, Joe found himself stymied. He wasn't finding any new information about the collars nor was he able to do much of anything with them. Any attempt to use mana on them incapacitated him, no matter what he tried, and nobody was bringing out any of the collar balls or speaking about them. He also couldn't think of any new meaningful ways to seek freedom, and soon was growing both frustrated and anxious. He couldn't sneak away to the dungeon very often, many of the guards now actively following after him. Probably want to know where the kid is!

On the other hand, Joe was making significant progress into his mana skills and casting a couple of different healing spells. The night torture session was giving him plenty of healing practice and regrowing his limbs became almost a normal part of his life. It also began to feel normal to delimb himself; something that he found quite disturbing simply because he wasn't finding it disturbing. Despite that, he was also getting a lot of practice in on a variety of skills, including keeping a lot of his jobs with passive 'char:' skills equipped to get them up to hit level one and free up as many of the 'char:' skills as possible.

Things went very well for the next week until the next muster call. He came out as he always did, and then froze on the way to the muster when he saw Johnnie waiting for him at the mustering yard. When Joe resumed his march towards the mustering yard, he felt nothing. What emotion he'd had was flat and gone. Only a deep burning slowly swelling rage was left and a certainty of soon despair. He marched to his spot and stared straight ahead without care or emotion, attempting to maintain a passive look.

When the slave master looked at Joe, it was easy to see the satisfied conviction with just a hint of mocking vindication. Joe did nothing. He said nothing. He knew there was nothing he could do. It was too late, especially when his body was controlled so easily. He couldn't run. His own collar would force him back by the evening. It was unlikely he could even leave in the first place because he doubted he could get the proper mentality to make it beyond the compound's magical version of a shield fence. He couldn't get the kid to follow him either. The slave master would just command the boy back and there was nothing he could do. Even if he did try to take him and run, he would likely have to knock the kid out cause the kid would fight tooth and nail to stay, obeying the slave master. It would also likely mean that if he did get away, the kid would run back as soon as he had a chance. Not sure I want to tie up the kid every day and night to force him to not run back.

The slave master had won, and he had no response. So, he simply stared straight ahead and desperately tried to shut off all his senses. He didn't even try to continue in his insanity, but simply shut down. Time dragged on. The slave master gloated in a lengthy speech, equal parts disappointment and grandfatherly concern tinged with hints of mockery and bitter satisfied anger.

Time passed so quickly, and soon Joe found the boy directly in front of him. The slave master said a few more things, and grew angrier with the passing of time, but Joe simply stared straight ahead without blinking. He didn't want to look into the boy's face. So he didn't. And guilt dug into his heart and clawed at him, shredding him so deep Joe wasn't sure what he felt. And then, his body moved without his command. His hand grasped a knife. His offhand gripped the boy by the shoulder. And in an especially vindictive mood, Joe found his head forced down and eyes pinned upon the boy's even as a dagger in his had sliced across the boy's neck. He couldn't blink. He couldn't close his eyes. The boy stared at him betrayed and terrified while tears flooded his cheeks and a horrified cry of pain wailed high and went higher until the blade cut through the boy's windpipe and all sound died. Except for a soft wet gurgle of desperation seeking air.

Violent rejection heaved up within Joe even as his stomach roiled, what little was in his stomach seeking ejection at escape velocity but nothing came out. His body did not move. His mouth did not open. The boy slowly collapsed in his arms, red warm liquid oiling his arm and the front of his body. Time froze. Joe froze. Nothing happened.

* * *

Joe blinked, then blinked again in shock when he realized the boy in his arms and lap was freezing cold, body stiff and blood hardened all across his arm and abdomen. Joe looked up and found the mustering yard empty. He looked up further and saw the sun had already moved to mid-afternoon. Joe's stomach roiled. His heart evaporated, replaced by a simple never ending expanse of solid white crystal clear ice without end; nothing breaking it's expanse.

Wisdom and caution warred with rage and Joe stood up. Caution sought to drive his body down, to curl over with head to the ground while seeking inane objects in a play dedicated to insanity. However, he remained upright, strong. Rage shook his core, and tried to drive him to gaze with challenge at the villa, to stare into the eyes of the slave master with promises of exquisite violence and torture. But wisdom finally rallied to caution and he kept his gaze forward before finally turning away, leaving the corpse of the boy behind. Wisdom drove him back home and caution slowly, step by step, bowed his shoulders into a slump. He bent over and walked into his tent, retrieved some washing items, then headed to the small stream of water that supplied the water for the camp. At least don't need to double check if this is the same stream the kid was getting his water from…

He washed his clothes. He washed his body. He sought comfort, finding none. Then, he returned home and slept, wasting the afternoon of a perfectly good day.

* * *

Gwenvair woke with a shout even as a burning rage, overwhelming in pain and burning hotter than the sun, snapped her to awareness. Kilniara was there from her own room only moments later, quickly followed by Xylarnae and Stephliquen shortly after from each of theirs. Kalia dragged herself in quite a bit later. They all came in with concern, questioning and worried, but Gwenvair simply held a hand up and quickly Heard.

What she Heard broke her heart, and she quickly dove in to caring for her husband. The razor blades of pain and rage shredded her but could not compare to the pain that Joe was obviously feeling. She did not hold herself back in anyway, diving deep into caring for the man she was already deeply in love with. She shuddered, fear welling, before she beat it down. Joe… first!

When things had calmed, she spoke to the others, explaining things quickly. All stayed with concern although Kalia returned to bed once she knew Joe was alright. She didn't stop her meditation, however, Joe's pain requiring ever more work from her. It was a very long early morning.

* * *

Ilyelanralo watched with some satisfaction as the eccentric finally came to realize his position and who he was. The man needed to learn that he was nothing more than a tool, completely controlled by any master he would come to find himself under. There was no exception. There was no escape. The man was now and forevermore nothing more than an extension of his master's will. He no longer had to worry or care for his future. His master would take such a burden on. He only needed to become one with his master's desires; nothing more, nothing less.

Ilyelanralo glanced down at the eccentric where he had collapsed back onto his rear after the bait boy had died in his arms. The boy's corpse rested in his lap, and the eccentric proceeded to waste his master's time. However, Ilyelanralo was kind and understood just how big of a shift in position the eccentric must be experiencing. To go from being an independent great young master of a wealthy clan to being the well prepared and honed tool of another; such a change would be staggering for any.

Ilyelanralo sighed with piteous compassion, understanding the eccentric's unusual position and waved off a guard that had come forward to teach the eccentric his place. He has learned. I will allow him his peace for the night. Ilyelanralo turned away from the eccentric and then quickly called over the eccentric's assigned guard.

"Allow the man his moment. He has learned. Leave him until tomorrow."

The slave guard nodded then indicated a need for clarity without inserting his person impudently into his master's time and space. Ilyelanralo recognized the usefulness of his tools so did not begrudge the slave guard's question, nodding slightly in acceptance.

"Does this include the guiding session tonight?" ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ NoveIꜰire.net

Ilyelanralo paused at that, considering, then nodded. Ilyelanralo was a kind and good master. The eccentric had learned. There was no need to be vindictive.

The next morning, however, Ilyelanralo found himself enraged. He'd been so certain the man had broken and learned his place, but it seemed the eccentric was still just as stubborn and recalcitrant. The only time the man was obedient was in the mustering. Otherwise, the man wandered off ignoring all other activities. Ilyelanralo found himself pacing his balcony in an uncouth display of impatient rage until he'd calmed himself. The man seeks to be stubborn! Then I shall be stubborn.

Ilyelanralo returned to his villa, resting in his office as he considered long and hard. The solution was rather easy, simple really. But Ilyelanralo struggled against it for several days, unwilling to waste such a precious connection, a precious favor, on such a simple problem. Despite his efforts, however, Ilyelanralo was unable to find any other way, and it was with a sigh of resignation he prepared a message to be returned to the guild and from there on to its destination. Ilyelanralo sighed with disappointment. Sending a king to kill a peasant!

* * *

Joe walked the absurdly clean streets of a small city on the southern tip of Okinawa, Japan. It was a beautiful city, with the people there meticulous in their cleanliness while relatively free in allowing the vegetation in the area to grow rather wild. The beaches that surrounded the entire island and the subsequent number of resort hotels made the island a popular tourist location for the Japanese. It was known as the 'Hawaii of Japan' but that wasn't why Joe was there with his family.

It had become home for his family because of another reason that Okinawa was famous for: being the birthplace of karate. His family, especially his father, had traveled there both for his son and for his own personal training. The time there had been peaceful and enjoyable, and the memories of the place swam past his thoughts in lazy circles and passes.

As in all dreams, strange shifts in location and being flashed in lightening jerks that his mind simply accepted as the norm. He walked the streets of the city of Tomigusuku, running to his favorite local convenience store he often frequented then suddenly found himself traveling down the long empty stretch of road that lead to one of his favorite beaches simply because it remained rather empty of tourist visitors.

Then, suddenly, he found himself on that beach, walking the white sands beside his father. He smiled up at his father, grinning before turning to chuck a rock off into the waters down the beach. They wandered without purpose for a time, a rare moment where father and son simply enjoyed each other. His mom and sister were there, he knew, like a certainty printed upon the memory but they were not in sight, off down the beach enjoying their own moments of time together. And the memory dream jumped again.

Light shifted, quickly fading to brilliant orange and red in the west, turning to bruised purple then black as the night rose to chase the sun's fleeing form. Joe and his father sat on the beach, his mom and younger sister on the other side of his dad with his sister probably leaning against mom like she always did.

"Dad?" Joe began.

His dad took a bit to rouse, lost in his own thoughts and enjoyments of the sunset, "Hmm?"

"So… you and mom teach us a lot about fighting."

"Hmm," his father replied without much thought.

"And I like it, don't get me wrong. But, we spend a lot of time traveling and learning fighting from all these places but … I guess they all do this too, but… you spend a lot of time teaching us not to."

His father remained silent for a time before his mom bumped his dad's shoulder. His dad blinked and jerked around to his mom before turning back to him.

"Huh? What?"

His mom chuckled, ignoring his father's return to the conversation and spoke again, "First off, Joe, why don't you ask a question in all that."

Joe ducked his head with chagrin, a soft half smile on his face, "Sorry, mom."

His father smiled with a hint of gleeful mockery and copied his son, "Yeah. Sorry, mom."

His mother shrieked in indignation, punching his father on the arm and he winced in pain when the hit landed with a meaty thunk that rocked his father back. His mom was small and short and would be absolutely wrecked by his father, but that didn't make her punches a joy to experience. Her technique and power were enough to easily rock most. His father, however, had seen it coming easily enough and tensed his bicep and when his mother's punch landed against his upper arm, his mom winced and cradled her hand even as his father turned to her and wrapped her in his arms as he began to tickle her with a grin, laughing as he turned the tables on her.

She growled at him with mock anger even as she turned to a kitten in his father's arms and she ineffectually pushed him away with an odd happy smile on her face, "Honey! The kids!"

"Yes. The kids, what about them?" Joe's father asked as he bent down and planted a kiss on his mother's lips.

Joe grimaced and turned away, moaning, "Daaaad!"

His sister on the other side did the same, her cry much more drawn out and insistent, "Mom! Daaaaaaad!"

His dad chuckled and took a quick peck from his mom's lips before he retreated from his mother and sat back beside him; all this he noticed and assumed from the noises he was hearing and not by sight. His father bumped a shoulder into his when he settled back in beside him.

"So… you feel… Well, wait a minute. First off, sorry for not catching what you said. Got a bit lost in just enjoying the moment. But, despite the lack of a question, you're asking about being taught to fight while also being taught not to fight?"

Joe chuckled at that, finding a humor in it before nodding, "Yeah, kinda. I mean, I understand that you and mom practice and fight for competitions and stuff like that, but you … we all still practice to actually fight and not just the competition stuff."

"Hmm. Yeah."

"So… I just… yeah."

His dad fell silent and Joe waited, used to the long thought process of his father and knowing an answer would come soon. His mom and sister started their own conversation while dad thought and got lost in thought until a few minutes later, his dad began. His mom and sister, despite being in their own conversation, soon hushed and listened in.

"So. You know about the whole 'do to others as they do to you,' yeah?"

Joe nodded quickly but said little else and his father noticed and nodded back as he continued, "A lot of people give that to Jesus, but it really came from a lot older. Some people say Buddha said it, others are certain Confucius was the author. Even Moses has a form of it long before either of those two, but what a lot of people don't know is that the original rule is pretty passive. Or… written negatively."

Joe frowned at that, "Huh?"

"Well, it said something like 'Don't do to another what you don't want to happen to you.' Or maybe a bit more easy to understand it was something like 'do to other people what people do to you.' Basically, the first version kinda goes like 'don't do bad things if you don't want people to do bad things to you.' The second is about the same, if worded a bit differently: respond in kind. The first warns against doing bad things so that others don't do bad things to you. The second is a bit more positive, saying to give back to others what others give to you. But both are rather passive. They tell you to not do anything bad, or at the very least, do nothing to others if they leave you alone."

Joe nodded slowly at that before nodding as understanding came. His father watched carefully before nodding and continuing.

"The stronger version of the golden rule is usually given to Jesus, but actually goes back long before him. Moses references it but in a different but still famous way: love your neighbor as yourself. If anything, the golden rule is the practical expression of the philosophical second statement. It says to actually do for others what you want to be done for you. So if you want kindness and love from others, give it to them first. What do you think the ramifications of that would be in comparison to the first?"

"Uh… I guess…" Joe thought for a bit, carefully, then responded, "I guess the first is passive. You wait for the others to do something first, then you respond. The latter… you go first, … and I guess you go first and do the right thing regardless of what the others do. That's… huh…"

Joe found himself getting lost in thought as his mind wrestled with how such a thing would play out. The beauty of it warring with his knowledge of reality. His father gave him a time to consider before a soft sly grin came to his face and he continued.

"And let's start looking at all the variations you can find from India and China going back to the ancient eras before the Roman Empire. You can find…"

Joe groaned, sighing as his father turned his question into a history lesson, a common occurrence across multiple disciplines; sometimes history, sometimes philosophy, sometimes science or math. While it was often frustrating, Joe also found a joy in it, joining in his father's passion to learn a bit more.

* * *

Joe woke with a start, then grimaced, clenching teeth even as he struggled to hold back tears. It was easy to believe… when the world was a good place, dad. But… He blinked away the tears and the pain on his face faded to nothing even as it blanked to impassivity with all the passion of a statue. He sighed and turned away and took in his tent in the cold dim light of the morning sun. He lay in bed for a long time before he finally roused, unfeeling and unmoved.

Joe wouldn't say he was broken by what the slave master had done, but he couldn't say that he was unchanged. He found himself hard, rejecting of all others and brittle in his rejection of anything occurring outside himself. Any belief that goodness existed vanished before the increased torture he was subjected to.

Almost the day after the second boy died in his arms, his torture grew even more insidious, turning to his fingers. His legs were left alone, now, all focus of the nightly torture now placed upon his hands and fingers as he lost knuckle after knuckle every night. The only silver lining being that his fingers were healed to full health before each morning, allowing him to still have his hands throughout the day. Staying awake while his knuckles were completely healed was a struggle, but he forced himself so that he could heal his legs and then practice his katas in the still pitch black of his tent every night after the healer was gone.

However, in a stomach churning display of insidious mockery, he would open his eyes every night after the healer left and find all his knuckles set into a neat pile right in front of his face, obviously left there and meant to be seen when he woke in the morning. So, just as his legs continued to pile ever higher and higher in his inventory, the knuckles began to take up slots in his inventory as well. He didn't need to. He could have taken them out and thrown them away because they knew where all the extra fingers were coming from. However, a certain meticulous vengeance drove him to collect the knuckles, piling them up in his inventory in a macabre display of his history.

And Joe spent another three months or so in this fashion, even more withdrawn and focused upon self. His hidden peace he'd gained from people watching vanished as he cared less and less for any around him. The only thought that remained was an obsession with beating the collar and escaping this ever more hellish existence. The only time he ever thought to focus on people was any time he felt there was a significant moment amongst the guards or leadership. He also began becoming foolish, even desperate, as he flipped on his language skill and listened in carefully during such moments. But he was still wise enough to always keep the slave master in his peripheral vision if he ever reengaged his language skill. Fear of losing what autonomy he had made him obsessive in keeping track of the slave master. But no other in the camp did he care for.

He also cared little for the guards or their now overt shadowing of him, so soon found himself diving into the dungeon much more often, simply to escape the ever present gaze of so many on him. The other slaves' curiosity didn't bother him, but the burning gaze of guards and the slave master itched away at him. The slave master seemed angry, but so did the slave guards for reasons that Joe could hardly understand. Even in the few moments he was able to engage his language skill and hear what the guards and other slaves were saying of him, no explanation could be found for their ever increasing vitriol.

Despite that, he still had his sycophants in a small group of men and a single woman who crowded around him as if he were some kind of shelter. These spoke of him with high praise, the kind that made Joe very uncomfortable and proud at the same time. Still, all of it was pageantry that Joe found depressing for its content and a constant reminder of his current situation and powerlessness.

Still, Joe was able to gain some with his return to going into the dungeons a bit more regularly, if only once a week or even less. And if Joe had been in any other situation, he'd have found the advances he'd made with the system over the next three months incredibly exciting, but he found himself unwilling to care at all for the mediocre system. Every moment was focused on struggling against his collar with a passion that long passed obsession. But it seemed that no matter how he explored the system, slavery and the collar had nothing to do with each other, neither interacting with the other or offering some kind of control over the other despite the existence of the slaver class. If anything, the slaver class seemed like the manual way to accomplish the same as what a collar did automagically except for a few skills which seemed more related to the mercantile. That seemed odd although given the economic nature of slavery, it did make some sense.

But, Joe's diligence didn't allow him to ignore what he learned about the system and in the three months that passed, he learned several things about skills, opened up several jobs, and gained a couple titles which became vital to his continued growth. The two crucial titles he gained during his efforts to help Johnnie were Endless Mana and Endless HP. They were essentially identical to his Endless SP title and they offered the same ability which proved crucial to further developing his personal MP and HP. Help, show me Endless SP, MP, and HP. The popup flipped up even as he considered the three new titles and skills.

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Endless HP really proved mind bending but seemed to be a linked to an actual ability to heal intrinsically with something. Probably mana… and … I donno.. He'd learned a lot over the several months of turning his HP on and off, as well as the Endless MP title. That begged a lot of questions about a lot of things and how he related or interacted with what was happening on this planet and in this place. In any case, the three new titles proved vital in developing his personal skills.

Turning off system MP had proven an almost obvious no brainer, and he had felt the difficulty almost immediately increase over the last few months. However, he found his development growing at a significant pace, especially as he began to initiate a style of practice in which he alternated with and without system MP. Without allowed him to attempt his own pure control in using mana; with it on, he was able to see 'the right way' it was to be done and even feel the mana manipulation as it was used in, around, through, and from his body. The holographic display helped as well. Of course, this was specific to spellwork, and not to his efforts to take advantage of his advanced stats, his infusion ability no longer helped by the system.

Regardless, with this change, his skill in mana manipulation, especially in casting specific spells and skills, grew by leaps and bounds. Of course, his nightly practice of engaging his stats using mana to infuse his system continued, and despite the incredible difficulty, his understanding of the intricacy of all the mana flows and how it interacted, enhanced, and protected the various organs, muscles, and bones of his body began to develop, if still depressingly slow to initiate the infusion state.

Another interesting aspect was that infusing his stats was actually easier while he used system mana. When he turned it off, he struggled mightily to use his system stats and it seemed to go back to the same problem as before: when he was trying to intentionally fall into system enhancement, he really struggled. However, when he was distracted or suddenly placed into danger, everything just seemed to fall into place easily. His subconscious somehow had the ability to just be when it came to using the system stats. Of course, it seemed that his naturalization had blocked his subconscious ability to enter infusion easily as well since he hadn't had the chance to do so since his naturalization. Granted, he didn't know if this was because of naturalization or because he just never had the chance to unconsciously fall into the infused state. He really didn't think that was the case, however, naturalization having explicitly stated he was going to be blocked from taking advantage of his advanced stats.

As for Endless HP, however, he still wasn't comfortable having it off. Having a backup insta-heal was something that Joe found great comfort in and loathed having that turned off at any time. However, that meant any scrapes and small cuts that would develop the skill would now instead be healed by the system and not his own personal skill. That made him worried about Endless HP as a title and his personal HP skill lagging behind since he knew for a fact that his stamina grew with use as did MP, from what he could see. And if SP and MP develop with use… maybe HP should as well? Not guaranteed, but seems like a good guess…

In that way, the month passed and he greatly increased his skills, both systemically and personally. With the system, his greatest gains were in the healing sphere followed by his diligence in getting his passive skills up to free some 'char:' skills he had. In fact, he had kept his believer job equipped since he'd regained his sanity, and the passive stats had leveled to around half way towards level one.

For his personal skills, he was growing more and more skilled in the use of his healing spells using personal mana as well, although he still couldn't heal at an adequate speed or power. For infusing his stats, he was soon able to affect his whole body, although he was still cautious to include his brain and mental stats in the process. The time, however, hadn't decreased much, still taking way too long to be useful in any combat situation and even too long for normal basic situations. Ten to twenty minutes, even longer, to infuse his stats was ridiculous, and every time he added another stat or increased the affect upon his body, the time necessary to actually activate his stats increased by ridiculous amounts.

Still, he could see actual gains and felt a sense of accomplishment for the work, even in infusing as he now was able to affect pretty much everything below his neck even without cheating by using intention and was able to do so pretty consistently. He kept his HP on, still way too worried to do it without HP as backup. The time was still way too long, and fluctuated wildly. The fastest he'd gotten was down to about ten minutes, but that was with intention and he'd really only done it once. If he was honest, his normal fastest was closer to twenty minutes and some spilled over even to half an hour.

The final thing he was able to develop was his jobs. He was able to level up eight of jobs over the couple months, but not near as many as he wished. The jobs, however, did not excite him or lead to any meaningful pride. The growth was arbitrary, and felt so.

For the jobs chosen, Joe put the entirety of his focus on the administrator jobs, excited and most interested in understanding what was to be gained from those jobs. For the first time in months, he felt a little bit of interest as he unlocked each of these jobs and saw the skills. He unlocked the junior level of all five jobs: junior user support, junior system admin, junior network engineer, junior analyst, and junior GUI programmer. For the other three jobs he had leveled, he unlocked the next two levels of system admin and one more in analyst. They were named system admin, senior system admin, and analyst. After seeing that, it become apparent that the series of jobs for the administrator jobs, from what he could see, followed the title series of junior, no prefix, then senior. There was one more job after the senior level obviously given the empty spot after senior system admin, but he wasn't able to level the senior system admin enough to reveal it. He also quit simply because opening senior system admin already cost quite a bit of time requiring leveling system admin to level forty five. He'd pushed to level senior system admin to forty five as well, but it didn't reveal the next job which meant he would likely have to reach level fifty, costing him a good five or six days and the skills revealed with what he had leveled so far didn't give him a lot of hope.

The skills he'd gained were all very interesting. The system admin line of jobs gave read only system access to self, others, and species at level ten. The analyst line of jobs gave an analysis skill at level ten with the junior analyst able to analyze an object by touch and the next level job allowed analyze person by touch. The user support job had remote access read only for main, which Joe wasn't sure what that meant until he used it and asked help about it. The junior network engineer had something called network node connection check at level ten and the last job, junior GUI programmer, had a skill at level ten called UX – user, related to the user experience.

As for the rest of the skills, a lot of them seemed pretty interrelated or even just a copy. In fact, for the level twenty skill, all eight of the administrative jobs he'd unlocked all had a skill called troubleshoot, differentiated only by having more or less '+'s. Essentially, all the junior jobs had troubleshoot, the next level had troubleshoot +, and the senior system admin had a skill called troubleshoot +++. Joe guessed that all the other jobs would likely have the same series of skills as well since both system admin and analyst had the troubleshoot + skill.

For level thirty, things started to change. The junior user support had a skill called empathy. Junior system admin, system admin, and senior system admin had logic flows, logic flows +, and logic flows +++. Junior network engineer had a skill called distributed systems. Junior analyst and analyst had a skill called through your eyes and through your eyes +. Finally, Junior GUI programmer had a skill called empathy.

Finally, the level forty skills were a bit disappointing except for the system admin jobs. Junior user support had a skill called the right question. Junior network engineer had something called network monitoring. The analyst jobs had a skill called through your thoughts and through your thoughts +. Junior GUI Programmer had a skill borrowed from the analyst line of skills: through your eyes. Finally, the system admin job had an interesting series of skills. The junior job had OS troubleshooting, the system admin job had OS security, and the senior system admin had OS hacking.

The skills explained by the help system proved to be a bit clearer.

The skills were strange, even esoteric. But he did find some interest in them and ended up playing with them a bit when he was in his tent out of sight. Most proved straight forward, just as he expected and described by the descriptions. There were a few of special note, however.

The first very interesting thing was, ironically, troubleshoot. It allowed him a preternatural skill in anything he felt needed troubleshooting. That proved a distinct boon, as he noticed a distinct increase in his ability to evaluate and figure out his current slave situation. Still, it didn't seem to give him an actual answer, it simply allowed him to more clearly see all the factors at play. It was an odd, if interesting, experience. It also seemed to really only reflect what he himself thought, not adding or helping narrow down factors or anything in the situation. When he considered his situation, an odd possibility came to mind and suddenly it appeared as a factor in his mental landscape for all things related to the current situation. When he dismissed it, it disappeared. Despite that disappointment, he quickly recognized that he was able to evaluate it much more quickly than he would have normally been able to.

Next, system access and remote access were different. Remote access, even though it was only to the main page, was actually amazing. He was able to see others' stats just by using the ability. It was a bit clunky, requiring him to enact the ability while focusing on his target, but the ability to see their status and all their stats would be an amazing option. That said, it only worked when the other asked for help. Figuring that out was tricky, requiring him to use one of his sycophants in private, but proved an important part of learning about the skill. Granted, when he did speak, his hangers on suddenly became that much more excitable and even more dedicated to him and he found their attention a bit nerve wracking, even uncomfortable.

Analyze offered the same thing, essentially, although he could see all the other tabs in the other's window as well. However, he had to touch his target. On the positive side, there was more data added in, especially for analyzing objects, and more importantly when used upon a person, he did not need their permission or request at all! Despite the coolness factor of an 'analyze' skill, analysis didn't say much for anything that wasn't' rather obvious from what he could see. For example, his clothing simply reported what they were made up of with a short description about its machine production and relative comfort.

Since he already knew that all from personal experience, Joe wasn't certain how useful it really was, although he wondered if the description of any magical effects might be explicitly displayed. That… might be cool! I know next to nothing about magical effects or… whatever… so having that just flat out shown…

Joe considered and played with analyze a bit more, noticing that it also took quite a bit of time to return any data, especially with the more magical artifacts. For example, his wooden spear that he'd gotten from the dungeon that glowed with Celtic like lines of power obviously had a magical affect and it took a good couple minutes for the 'report' to come back. A bit more practice and playing showed that the skill didn't need a minutes long meditation on it or anything like that. A simple 'analyze this' thought while holding it was enough to have the answer come back a few minutes later. He could occupy himself with other things as he wished, and the skill would still show a popup a few minutes later.

However, an analyze on his shirt or pants came back in about twenty or thirty seconds, and simply stated it was a comfortable shirt or pants made by an artifact. In contrast, the spear reported a general history, along with a date and time it was acquired and from where. It then gave a short description of the effect the spear. Its effect proved interesting: an enhanced infusion affect that allowed a wielder to infuse the spear and the infusion would be increased, using ambient power to further empower the infusion over time. A powerful effect that Joe really liked.

System access, however, seemed to deal with exactly that, the users access to the system. Attributes, as in user allowed attributes and permissions, and access rights seemed to be the domain of this skill, getting into the esoteric function of the system. Joe really wasn't certain what he was looking at and the descriptions and purpose behind it all was obscured by technical language beyond his kin. He was very concerned with messing with it at all, and pretty much stayed away from it. That said, the skill supposedly only gave read only access to him, so he assumed with time he would be able to make changes later. But the skill seemed, to the best of his ability, to give him a connection into the guts of the system itself where he could see things like what tabs or information was available to a user. He had several options of this skill; targeting himself, others, a species, and everyone. That made him very nervous to touch.

UX – user seemed to give him a similar deep access into the system but was even more esoteric with its experience with strange ritualistic symbols and a deep dive view into the guts of the system leaving him dizzy with confusion and awe at its depths. And if my understanding is right… this thing is only showing the user… GUI? No… its saying experience… although with this kind of fully integrated bodily thing… that takes on some new and very weird implications.

Like system access, he backed out of this quick and didn't touch anything before turning to the other skills. Empathy sounded exactly like it was, allowing him to more easily feel for the other, although it added nothing to understanding. Logic flows proved very interesting, especially when combined with troubleshoot and actually helped him to more easily understand and draw some conclusions about some ramifications he was struggling with when he considered the collar. It simply made the connections between things clearer to see and understand.

Distributed system was a weird one, really leaving his mind twisted. Like system access and the UX skill, it gave him a deeper insight into the system itself, but seemed to show something like a load distribution and how loads were balanced across the system. Other than that, he had no concept of what he was looking at and backed just as quickly out of that skill as the other two which left him disconcerted.

Through your eyes and through your thoughts were powerful and interesting, allowing him to actually see and know the thoughts of the other but it was extremely limited. It only allowed him to use it specifically for the purpose where the skill was. For example, the GUI programmer line of jobs had through your eyes and allowed him to see what the user was seeing of his GUI and nothing more. Everything else shown was blacked out. For the analyst, which also had through your eyes and through your thoughts, only information specific to the system or the user's current situation using the system was revealed to him. In both cases, it required interacting with the other person and asking them to interact with him in that way. No sneaking into another's mind for a fight. Joe sighed in disappointment at that thought.

The right question was a pretty cool skill, but just like remote access, limited to those seeking his help and specific to helping what the user was seeking, nothing more. Joe wasn't able to game it and get any hints of how he could use the question skill for his current situation, unless it was a question specific to the system. He would spend more time playing with this, as it seemed powerful, but Joe right now wasn't exactly certain how he could use it or in what way he could take advantage of it. Every attempt to use it outside some kind of user support situation specific to using the system failed.

Network monitoring proved cool but like distributed systems, seemed to be a reporting tool showing him some really cool data about the system as a network of nodes. He did spend a lot of time just watching what was happening but otherwise found it a dance of pretty lights and was not certain of what he was looking at.

The last three were deeply concerning, much in the same way that UX – user and system access was. OS troubleshooting, security, and hacking let him see deep into the system and what he saw was a dizzying array absolutely terrifying to see. Troubleshooting let him see hints of problems, but since had no clear understanding it only left him even more confused. Security and Hacking were similar, reporting things just beyond Joe's comprehension and he backed out of that experience as quickly as the rest.

Going over those aspects revealed just how powerful the tools that were now at his disposal were, but it left him feeling very nervous about touching them. He had little skill in the area and almost no experience, but he did know messing with something like this was like messing with a gigantic multistory tall house of cards or a massive warehouse-spanning series of dominos. Touching just one in the wrong way would collapse everything. Still, diving into learning about the new skills had given him a short respite from his daily drudgery each time he did level another administrator job, allowing him to explore the skills linked with the jobs.

Other than the new jobs and skills, he continued sitting in random places where he practiced whittling, mana practice, spell practice, and personal HP healing. He also now added analyze practice, randomly reaching out to touch any pebble, piece of dirt, stick, leaf, or bug in the area and using analyze on it. It took a couple minutes to return an answer and in that time no other analyze request would be considered. There wasn't even a buffer where he could line up a couple dozen analyze requests and simply allow them to come through as each was done. He had to wait for the informational popup to return before he could analyze another object.

Analyzing people proved more difficult, but now that he was leaning down to touch some random piece on the ground about every two minutes, he already looked crazy enough so he simply leaned to the closest person around and began touching them with obtrusive and impolite brushes across a forearm or a foot. His sycophants seemed unconcerned by it and Joe used it to simply lean into his insanity. He already looked crazy touching random things on the ground. Adding in random touches to forearms or feet simply added realism to his insanity.

But reality proved cruel. Joe really was actually on the brink of sanity, desperate to escape and seeking anything that might give him some hope. Some part of him wondered if he leveled up analyze if he could gain a sight version of analyze and allow him to start surreptitiously spying on the guards and especially the slave master, so he bent his will to religiously exploring this skill as much as possible but something deep inside told him he wouldn't find anything useful in it. Desperation left him clutching for any solution, however, and he spammed analyze, despite know the other skills in the various administrative jobs separated skills by senses as well.

Joe was also desperate because of one other thing that happened after Joe leveled all these jobs and skills throughout the three months. He quickly recognized the beginning of another cycle. This was why exploring the system jobs proved such a refuge for him. He sought escape because he knew exactly what was coming next but was unable to prepare any meaningful defense.

However, flight, whether physical or mental, was not an option. Physical flight was literally impossible while mental flight would not get him any freedom. He had to stay in the moment and aware, so while he knew what was coming, he had to be fully cognizant as he dove into keeping track of what was happening all around him and deliberately, randomly, insanely, settling in various places all around the camp and surreptitiously listened in on the conversations seeking any freedom possible. The first sign of another cycle came with another set of newcomers.

Joe stood even as the new comers came into the camp and settled at a place a bit closer to the station where they collared the newcomers but not his closest seat. This one was only slightly closer, just enough to be able to hear any conversation and specifically what the guard and new slaves were saying to each other. Something about it itched at his memory and maddened him with what he felt was his last hope for freedom. That itch had only increased when he had used his troubleshoot and logic flows skills along with a few other admin job skills. So, he focused on the intake of the newly arrived slaves.

After a few moments, he stood and wandered to his next chosen location, making sure to be rather insane in doing so, his sycophants reacting to his movement by standing and walking with him. When that happened, Joe hid a grimace and realized he would possibly have to do something about that for any sensitive moments in the future. Still, for now, it didn't really matter and Joe settled in and continued his routine of whittling and touching everything around him, making sure to touch something different every time because his gaming sense told him there was more experience gained in analyzing on new objects.

His mana, spell skill, and HP practice remained hidden from all the rest, but continued unabated, now being done even as he walked. He'd improved by quite a bit, being able to express mana even with vigorous physical effort. He still deeply struggled with casting a specific spell if he moved too fast or vigorously, but while simply walking, it was quite easy now. The HP practice was simple, of course.

As always, the slave master came down and interacted with the arriving merchant who Joe was now certain was the same person every time. The conversation between the two felt rather perfunctory, before the two retired to the slave master's villa after the slave master handed off all the incoming slaves to a guard to process. Joe's tension ratcheted up with that, excitement and hope beginning to well up. Right… yeah… here it is… here it is!

He quickly swapped in his language skill again, now that the slave master was no longer around, and began listening in even as he attempted to play insane. He reduced any movement in his upper body, not wanting the rustling of cloth near his ears to block any conversation. The whittling also became more performance than actual whittling, simply brushing his sharpened rock across the wood lightly so he could better hear. He made sure to sometimes scrape off a small piece of wood so some shavings would pile up in between his feet, but only when he was sure that there would be a lull in the conversation. Without placing any focus on what he was whittling, Joe knew he would have to sacrifice this piece, but this chance was so rare in coming he cared little.

After he'd retrieved the box of balls, the guard waved the new comers over, this time with only one rather rough and very large strong man in chains. The all lined up quickly enough except for the rough strong man who railed against what was soon to happen, growling loudly and rejecting any attempt. That proved a brave if ultimately futile effort as the man was then beaten rather soundly before he was pushed forward towards the slaving station.

"Right. You had to go and make yourself a major pain in the rear so you get to go first, fool!"

The man in chains roared and cursed against them all, "Curse you all with Loki rot! May your balls fall off and your women grow barren at your touch! Your sons be crippled bastards and daughters slave whores captured in wars! See that I won't do such a thing to each and every one of you!"

"Right. Shut it, or you won't like what we do next, you fool!"

The man didn't even seem to hear what was said to him, flailing wildly and now even using the chain that dangled on his hand as an odd flail against those around him. Any who got too close just got a manacle to the face, his iron bands proving to be powerful weapons with his two handed blows. Finally, several of the guards cursed in anger and simply whipped out a spear and stabbed him in the thighs and arms, dropping the man to his knees as they shredded his major muscle groups in both locations, leaving him unable to stand easily or move his arms. Then they dropped him to his face in front of the guard pulling out the little balls that became collars.

The other guards turned their focus upon what was happening, even as the slave with the collar ball stepped forward. Despite the fight and commotion, Joe cared little, focusing on the ball and the process, excited to learn anything he could.

"Right. You seem a big one. Let's do this. Do you accept being a slave?"

"No!" the man roared in rejection.

The other guards laughed, and a man stepped forward and buried his spear in the man's thigh again before twisting it.

"Do you accept a collar?" the guard with the collar ball asked once more.

The man's reply was now tinged with feverish pain but no less violent and firm, "No!"

Once again, the guards nearby joined the first who still had his spear in one of the man's thighs. The second guard chose an arm, stabbing into the bicep, then twisting it as well.

"Do you accept the collar?" the guard asked.

"No!" The man growled out while panting in pain.

Joe found himself watching this and losing his cool, his anger welling rapidly to overwhelming levels until a few moments later it suddenly died, tamped down in the back ground. Joe closed his eyes and then calmed his rage further, relief coming shortly after as he realized he'd been close to losing control. Thank you… whatever that was… Joe breathed once again and turned his eyes back to his whittling and practice, only leaving his ears to hear. Seeing what was happening was overwhelmingly disgusting to him, but unable to attack any of these men, it would accomplish little.

This went on for a good half hour or more, the man rejecting the question even as more and more guards stabbed the man and shredded the muscles of his body. The healer had to be called out a bit later to keep the man alive. But, the man proved strong, saying no over and over without rest, but growing ever more delirious. Interestingly enough, it was an older normally very quiet guard who called an end to it, calling out with a rough very angry but quiet growl.

"Enough. You egg the man on and bully him."

All the other guards fell silent at that, pulling back in easily seen displays of fear. The quiet guard came forward and wrestled the collar ball from the first guard and knelt by the soon to be slave. The other guards stepped forward, focused with their fear forgotten as they looked upon the quiet slave guard.

"You need help. Do you accept my help?" the quiet guard asked.

The resisting man seemed a bit delirious and simply said no, growling it out in a repetitive mantra but the quiet guard simply rested a hand on the man's back, shoving the other guards and their weapons off the beaten slave. With the loss of the weapons, the resistance seemed to fade as the man collapsed, still muttering a repetitive 'no.'

"Hail, man! Listen. No other will bother you. Allow me to help you. Please, accept my help."

That seemed to rouse the man, and the beaten man stared up at him with bleary eyes, out of it and obviously concussed, "You… help?"

"Yes. I offer my help."

"Ah… yes… I accept."

As soon as he said it, all the other guards there seem to growl in disappointment, but not shifting away, still standing over the quiet guard. The quiet guard grew bitter, a sad and piteous gaze of self-disgust flowed across his face even as he moved the ball forward to the man's neck where it quickly unfurled and rapidly wrapped around the newly made slave's neck. As soon as the slave ball left the quiet guard's hand and unfurled against the newly enslaved man's neck, the other guards shifted back in frustrated disappointment, a tension released as the duty was done. The quiet guard stood and looked at the other's with contempt and no small amount of anger.

"No need to add to the man's pain or suffering," he growled out, the loudest he'd ever been, before marching away then settling in at a tree off in the distance.

Joe hadn't really noticed the man before, but seeing his behavior, Joe found himself looking at the man with a measuring look. Shortly after, the man was looking back at Joe with just as measured a look before softly nodding his head. Joe's eyes widened in shock and he quickly looked away, nervous fear skittering throughout his limbs even as he wrestled his body back to normalcy. He turned back to playing his insanity but a few moments later, he looked up to see the man looking at him and nodding again. This time, Joe continued to look, realizing the man simply looked at him and didn't reveal him, staying at his small place and resting there. The man then glanced at the villa, then back at Joe, a foreboding sense of warning came to Joe and Joe quickly returned to his act, a deep shuddering breath of relief and worry filling his lungs.

Even as he breathed, the quiet guard called out again, "Don't forget to claim him, cretin!"

A curse rose up from the other group of guards around the slaving station and the guard that had originally been collaring the slaves quickly reacted, turning to the beaten man, "You are claimed by my master."

Joe glanced over at that, and the collar shifted color and Joe frowned, eyes narrowing. The guard running the station reached in and grabbed another ball. The other guards leaned forward, an intense glee seeming to flush through their faces.

"You are a pain and a half, and the minimum for you is two. But you get the joy of four… no five, cause I'm not going to deal with you!"

The guard stepped forward holding three balls in his left hand and a fourth in his right. He pressed the one ball to the collar and Joe watched as the ball merged with the collar and shifted color.

"You are claimed by my master."

The guard shifted another ball over to his right and pressed it to the collar, the ball merging and shifting around the entire collar like shifting oil and subtly changing the color of the collar.

"You are claimed by my master."

Another ball went in the collar, the collar shifting color once again.

"You are claimed by my master."

The last ball came up and slithered into the collar but before the guard could lay claim for his master, the quiet guard coughed, "Five is a waste. Do not waste master's efforts."

That seemed to freeze the first guard who could not continue for a moment before looking up at the quiet guard with a bitter grimace before replying with rage, "Fine!"

The guard administering the collars turned back to the man and continued, "You are claimed by my master."

The collar shifted color again but then the guard held up a hand and grasped the collar, pinching it as if he was going to pull off a small dollop of putty from a larger portion, "Release one ball."

And like taffy pulled from a large glop, a small portion pulled free in liquid putty before snapping apart too cleanly, each broken off portion pulling back into its location with precision and perfection. The collar returned to being a collar while the piece in the guards hand returned to being a slave collar ball. There appeared to be no damage or change to it at all.

Joe watched on, grimacing with anger at what he was seeing, but mind racing as he considered the ramifications. He remained seated and watched on as the guard continued. The guards relaxed, joking amongst themselves until the next slave came forward, and they returned to diligence. The others not in chains proved easy enough as all accepted and the guard pressed the ball to their neck where it flowed onto their neck and became a collar identical to his and the others in the camp, only differing in color.

It seemed rather ritualistic, with the request offered first. After the new slave said yes, the ball was pressed to their neck where it shifted to form a collar that morphed between being almost tattoo like on the skin or rest calmly on the neck as a full on normal necklace like collar. The ritual was completed with the guard stating 'You are claimed by my master' after which the collar changed color to match the number of balls that had been added to it.

As for whether the collar was a tattoo or a more necklace shape, it seemed that was dependent upon how recalcitrant the person was. The raging giant of a man had begun to struggle to claw at his neck, his voice now a despairing rage and rejection as he tried to claw it off his neck. But the collar seemed to meld with the skin to protect itself. It didn't really need to, however, as the man struggled to even get his hand anywhere near his neck. Doing so did what it seemed to have done to Joe: blank out the man's thoughts and leave him confused and lost, not knowing where he was and what was happening until he looked around and seemed to recognize what was happening. Then he would rage again and try to reach up to the collar.

The others, however, sat quietly, complacently, and the collars rested calmly on their neck as rather ornate, even beautiful, necklaces. Joe grimaced and wondered about his own, not reaching for it but trying to feel it on his neck before he quickly recognized that nothing rested on his breast. Collar must still be a tattoo or choker on my neck then… Does it know I'm still resisting? Is that why? How did I feel it… at first, then? Or … did my calmness have something to do with it? Maybe? Or is there some kind of…

Joe's thoughts were cut off as the last slave was collared and all the guards started to wander away, some wandering off to get those who had been 'properly trained' and ready for sale. The guard in charge of collaring, however, seemed to be clearing things up even as he directed one guard to show the way for the compliant while putting two other guards in charge of dragging the resisting man back to his new place of residence. Joe suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to take a closer look at things, a feeling of intense danger driving him not away, but towards the collaring location and Joe stood before he even realized what he was doing.

Still, he was cognizant enough to restart his muttering quickly and wandering across the field towards a location beyond where the collaring had taken place. The guards seemed to tense when they saw Joe approaching, but he remained just off angle enough, although he meandered rather wildly so that when he suddenly stumbled a bit closer to the collaring station, the guards were caught off guard. However, before they could even react, Joe caught himself and continued meandering off across the field, muttering to himself and still picking up pieces of interesting detritus off the ground. Play it up… play it up…

Joe struggled to keep his calm, his heart beating wildly mainly because what he'd done had been rather foolish. As he moved on in the field, he heard a loud call cry out from behind him but he was able to convince himself it could be for anyone while he continued meandering across the camp grounds. He did, however, scramble to unequip his language skill, deafening his ears after the second 'hey you' and just before what he was certain was another cry that might include a name or identify him specifically.

Almost being caught left him rather terrified for the rest of the day while he nervously played his part, remaining mostly on the outskirts of the camp where he continued to whittle. His mana, spell casting, skill, and title practice took a pretty significant hit that day, his concern over being caught and a certain jittery hope-filled excitement distracting him from accomplishing anything for the rest of the day. His mind raced!

* * *