Mage Tank

Levels. The ultimate goal of most Delvers and a significant source of their power. Levels granted stats, stats made you stronger, and everybody loved getting strong.

“Do we care that much about the levels?” I asked, which evoked a number of different responses from my party members.

Nuralie looked dumbfounded, Etja furrowed her brow in confusion, Xim shrugged, and Varrin nodded like he agreed with the sentiment. Avarice dropped her finger from her mouth and narrowed her eyes with skepticism.

“Most Delves are level-gated,” I continued. “Regular Delves are either set for a specific level or a narrow range of levels, so getting boosted up several levels would exclude us from running many Delves between where we are now and whatever level you can take us up to. This one is set for level 10 and under, which is the first I’ve heard of with that broad a range, aside from the other phase 2 Delves The Mimic told us about.”

“I have not heard of it outside of specials,” Varrin added.

“That means missing out on any chips, gear, or other benefits we could gain from leveling the hard way. There’s also the ever-present problem of intrinsic skills.” I brought up my interface and glanced over my intrinsics.

Intrinsic Skills: 9/10

Dimensional Magic 32

Blunt 27

Physical Magic 22

Heavy Armor 21

Leadership 21

Dungeoneering 20

Mystical Magic 19

Smithing 15

“Our goal is 20 intrinsic levels per Delver level, and I’m sitting at 203. They’re only that high because this Delve has been a gold mine for skilling up. That means I’m probably ready to move up to level 11, but any higher and I’d be back in a skill deficit.”

“The growth should be quicker at lower levels,” said Varrin. “The rate of increase slows as the skills rise.”

“We might also find another special Delve,” said Xim. “Those grant benefits without gaining a level. Maybe we won’t find any in the sub-20 range, since they’re supposed to be rare–

“They are rare,” said Varrin

“I mean, we’ve found 2 already,” she said. “Besides, I agree with you. Gaining flat levels would actively harm our ability to conquer higher-level Delves. We’d be leaving a lot on the table.” She crossed her arms. “Plus we’d be missing out on the exploration.”

“There is more to the equation than the math behind Delving,” said Nuralie. “If we were in a time of relative peace, where we had decades to build our strength, then focusing entirely on qualitative improvements with each level would be ideal.” Pause. “However, between the avatars and the Littans, having additional levels is objectively better than not. Our power relative to everything outside of the Delves would be substantially increased.” She looked toward Avarice. “This is in addition to the new threat we are being told about.”

“I understand that,” said Varrin. “More than most. We are seeking the strength to halt the incoming disasters. Still, taking a shortcut may slow our progression in later stages. It is power now at the expense of power later.”

“You do not know that,” Nuralie replied. “We can train our intrinsics. This Delve has given us immense wealth to purchase gear, essences, ingredients… anything we need. We can seek out special Delves at higher levels. We are already far stronger than our levels suggest.”

“It is not enough,” said Varrin, somewhat testily. “We must claw every scrap of power we can from every level.”

“I must admit,” said Avarice, raising her hands in a calming gesture, “I did not expect that offer to fall flat.”

“We can split the baby,” I said.

“Idiom,” said Xim. “Unless harming children somehow literally relates to what we’re talking about.”

“It’s a story about…” I began. “Nevermind. Splitting the baby is shorthand for settling a dispute in a way that each side gets something, but neither is fully satisfied. If we snag a couple of levels, that shouldn’t interfere with our progression much and it will save us months of work.”

Neither Nuralie nor Varrin looked excited at my suggestion, which let me know it was a good compromise.

“Dumping, stats, levels, information,” said Nuralie. “We can sell the items we have that would be worth breaking down. We could get more money than the materials alone are worth.” Pause. “If there is strong demand.”

“Straight item trades are sometimes preferred,” said Varrin. “Either way, we don’t need their materials extracted.”

“What about the wand of boundless spookiness?” I asked.

“Save it for Sam’lia,” said Xim, averting her eyes. I noted the odd behavior but didn’t want to pursue it in front of our host.

I sighed, feeling lost in the quagmire before me. Wheeling and dealing was never my specialty, and I honestly didn’t enjoy it. Bartering with an entity like Avarice was well outside our comfort zone, even ignoring the fact that she could kill us all whenever she felt like it. Nuralie had the most skill with Mercantile, something she hadn’t used since her time running an alchemy shop, but that part of her life was relatively short lived. I still ended up punting the negotiation to the loson, backed up by Etja for some sweet talking, and eventually got two more concessions from Avarice.

First, I would be a part of the stat trades to gain some training and minor benefits from enhancing my Dumping efficiency without giving up another Dread Star question. Second:

“I’ll facilitate an introduction,” said Avarice. “I have a group of worshipers in Arzia with substantial firepower behind them. I cannot guarantee they’ll help you, but if you make it worth their while, I’m sure they will be amenable to some arrangement.”

“Mercenaries,” said Varrin.

“Not quite,” said Avarice.

The avatar held out her hand, and a large token appeared. It was made of gold, shimmering with obvious magic as it floated toward me. It dropped down into my palm, much heavier than it appeared, and I nearly fumbled it. The token was slightly larger than a chip, about the size of a small teacup saucer, with a large fang engraved on one side and a bat-like wing on the other.

“Take that to the mountains north of Ayama,” Avarice said. “So long as you keep the token outside your inventory, they will find you.”

“Anything else we should know?” I asked. “North of Ayama is practically a polar region.”

“Try not to offend them,” she replied. “Otherwise, they prefer their privacy, so I’ll refrain from saying anything else.”

“This feels like you’re being unnecessarily vague for dramatic reasons,” I said, flipping the coin over in my hand. Fang, wing, and whoever they were worshiped Avarice the greedy avatar. It was a group that might keep hoards of wealth hidden away, perhaps. I looked up and peered at Avarice. “Is it dragons?” I asked, trying to keep my excitement from showing. She raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond. I glanced back down at the coin, then put it away into my inventory. “I’m going to assume it’s dragons.”

“Do we have a deal then?” asked Avarice. We took a quick vote, and I nodded.

“Looks like it,” I said. “How do you want to do this?”

We started by gaining 2 levels. Avarice’s body shone with mana, and streams of power flooded into us just like she was an obelisk. I felt a strain on my soul at gaining 16 stat points so rapidly, which was uncomfortable, but I was certain I could have withstood more.

Next, the stat trades began. Everyone in the party had gained the majority of the benefit of their training stats, and there were only minor losses based on how people had spent their points before gaining access to the (re)birth sign. There was some nuance to the best way to get this done in the shortest time frame with the lowest number of trades, but I’ll spare you the details. Basically, it was drain a stat, train, get Dumping, retrieve stats in 5-point increments to max our Dumping benefits, drain a different stat, train, retrieve, repeat until all training is complete, and finally drain and retrieve whatever else is needed. Training a stat up 1 point took around 8 hours of serious effort, so this process required a week of nonstop effort.

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I snagged another 4 bonus points from this Dumping devilry, while everyone else grabbed 20 entire motherlovin’ points.

The only real ‘inefficiency’ from my training points was that I was reincarnated with carryover stats. These were stats that were locked in before I ever spent creation points or had any opportunity to train, and were a huge cheat at level 0. I tried to game the system by having Avarice drain the carryover points so that I could use training to pump the stat before having them reinvested, but Avarice was unable to do so. She spouted some stuff about Fortune’s magic being inviolable to her, but my brain interpreted it as “blah blah blah, balance reasons, removing exploits, nerfing Arlo in the next patch.”

However, my Fortitude only had 1 point from carryover stats. Since I’d spent my creation points into Fortitude, it had never been trained. That meant there were still 8 training stats for the taking, which I went after with all the grace of a starving dog that had just been tossed 12 ounces of medium-rare prime rib.

Amidst exchanging stats and training, we took turns giving our life stories to Avarice. The sessions were long, filled with unending clarifying questions from the avatar, and so deeply personal that by the end I figured Avarice knew more about me than anyone ever had. At least, at an informational level.

I wasn’t comfortable divulging so much, especially before hearing her intel, but I was willing to suck it up and rehash my life. I’d argued for Avarice to go first, but she’d been willing to take turns with information and services. She went first with services, since it would take me a month to deliver on the Dread Star questions, thus we went first with trading information. Tit for tat, as it were.

If the details she ended up giving us were shit, I was going to… probably do nothing, because what could I do? We were operating with a lot more faith than I normally would have. I would be mad, I guess. Really upset. Ornery, even.

Regardless, after the levels, training, and bonuses from Dumping, I came out of the process with 31 more stat points than I’d gone in with.

Stats:

Strength 22

Agility 10

Speed 22

Fortitude 52

Intelligence 40

Wisdom 40

Charisma 10

Luck 10

The Doomed Aspirant fights made it clear that I needed more Speed. While it hurt me to divert points away from Fortitude (gah!), getting up to the next evolution point would make a big difference in my ability to dodge. Even if I couldn’t dodge outright, it would allow me to maneuver and deflect strikes made against my delicate body, minimizing their impact.

Even so, Fortitude retook its proper place as my highest stat and the universe was once again right and good. My new health total was 1,898, which meant I could now take 64 percent more swords to the face compared to my prior total of 1,220. If I were a breakfast cereal, I’d slap that figure on the front of my box.

The process unlocked evolutions for Speed 20 and the more mouth-watering Intelligence 40 keystone, but I set those aside for a full-party discussion. Once the stat cheese was done–potentially the stinkiest cheese we ever did cheese–we were almost ready to hear what Avarice had to tell us.

“The way I frame the information about Brae’ach will likely be informed by my first question to the Dread Star,” she said.

“Brae’ach?” I asked. “That’s the name of the guy who might destroy the world?”

“Hmm,” said Varrin. “It sounds Davahn.”

“It sounds like a metalcore vocalization.”

“You’re full of new phrases this week,” said Xim with a grin.

“I used to listen to a lot of angry music back in the day. Not sure there’s an analog here.” I cleared my throat, then sang a bar with my best disgruntled growl. “I’m mad and this song is loud, blegh!”

“The way the intonation goes up at the end does sound similar,” said Nuralie.

“Brae’ach!” barked Etja, mimicking the style. It was much better than my own impression, and I was pretty sure she’d never practiced her death grunt before.

“Let’s get back on track,” said Avarice. The avatar had spent a decent amount of time with the group by this point and was better at managing our digressions than any of us were. That she tried at all already put her ahead of the curve. “As I was saying, hearing the Dread Star’s response will help me decide what intelligence to focus on.”

“Sure, okay,” I said. “Let’s go ahead and drive me incrementally closer to mental collapse in the face of beings far vaster than I can comprehend.” I pulled up my Luck 10 evolution and selected Divine Favor of JuRoQi. There was no immediate sensation of existential horror, which was a relief. I glanced up at Avarice. “Alright, what’s your question?”

Avarice told me what she wanted to know, and the exact wording of the query. Her phrasing raised some eyebrows but we were already committed. I wasn’t about to back out now because of some mild discomfort with the inquiry’s implications.

Part of me thought it was rude to open up my relationship with the Dread Star by fielding a question from a third party. It felt like getting asked out on a date, showing up with a friend, and then leaving them with your hopeful suitor after five minutes so you could drive home and watch reruns of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. But maybe it was more like getting a coupon for a free entrée at Olive Garden and selling it to a coworker for 5 bucks. I’d probably add the additional context that you knew a fellow who worked at the restaurant, he gave you that coupon because he was your bro, and you used it in a way he might think was “kind of not cool.” Like a minor social transgression that would chafe, but not significantly damage the friendship.

Or maybe a god of pure, unlimited power was about to smack me down for my hubris. I didn’t know the deity, so I hoped for the best and asked Avarice’s question.

“On behalf of Avarice, I ask JuRoQi: What must I take from the world so that I may surpass Unity?”

As I spoke the Dread Star’s name, the concepts it embodied suffused me, thrumming across the folds of my brain with endless hairs of knowing, invading my soul.

Ju. Conservation. That one thing has an identity, and is unique among everything else.

Ro. Space. The distance between two points, keeping all from existing as one singularity.

Qi. Distinction. The essence of what separates one thing from another, allowing more than one thing to exist across all that is.

JuRoQi was a narrowing of these ideas, the overlap in their Venn diagram. Each syllable was inextricably linked to the next, inseparable in their cohabitation and irreducible to its base components. It was contradictory but absolute.

JuRoQi was not a name, it was Truth. The Dread Star was the space between, the nothingness that set boundaries between all that was discrete. It fell between atoms, the nothingness that made up nearly all volume. It ruled the vacancy between universes, and that was a bare fraction of its existence.

Everyone else in the party had decided to stand on the opposite side of the 200-foot-long chamber. The sole exception was Grotto, who sat on my shoulder. Our soul link was harmonized, and his psychic connection was on full blast. The hope was that, if there were mental repercussions from this experience, he could help me weather them.

I’d only spoken the Dread Star’s name, and I was already grasping onto that lifeline.

I felt the bottom fall out from the world, my gut lurching as I was thrust into a sensation of weightlessness. The room around me grew dark until I swam in a void of perfect black, and a field of endless stars burst to life. The pinpricks of light began to move in an arc, each leaving a trail of light in its wake, creating a mass of glowing azure circles. It was identical to the in-between space I’d found myself locked into during my teleport into Deijin’s Descent. I was frozen, but unlike my prior experience, I could still breathe. The creeping chill of the void didn’t invade my bones and joints.

A pair of eyes opened before me, simultaneously inches from my face and more distant than the planet above me.

If I hadn’t been suspended in nothingness, I would have fallen to my knees, forced to prostrate myself not out of fear or obedience, but because my head was being squeezed like an overfilled balloon. I could sense the blood vessels in my skull–bad experience, I do not recommend–as their walls began to fail. If I hadn’t been immune to Bleeding, I expected I’d have suffered a few dozen aneurysms.

A deep sound thundered through the universe, the heralding fanfare of JuRoQi’s presence performed by a cosmic orchestra.

The eyes studied me with irises both absolutely dark and yet shimmering with vibrant radiance. We stared at one another, and its gaze tore at the edges of my consciousness, its mere presence infecting reality and overwhelming me with understanding.

Then, another figure appeared.

It was a mass of a thousand arms with grasping hands, its body gilded and streaked with precious metals. It was Avarice’s true form, and for all that her soul was powerful, she was a single water molecule amidst a galaxy-wide hurricane; a grain of sand on a beach that spanned the known universe. No, she was even less than that, so insignificant that it was unquantifiable.

The eyes turned to Avarice, and her manifold arms twisted in spasms, her hands becoming bent claws. Her amorphous body deformed like putty, kneaded in a cosmic grip.

JuRoQi spoke, and I caught a glimpse of the fleeting shadow of the truth that it delivered.

Tiny fragment, infinites’mal shard.

You debase yourself in ignorance,

Awash the sea of divinity’s reach,

Groveling for scraps of unseen meals.

Your narrow pride clings to self-made lies.

You will never hold your fictitious prize.

Unity would sweep your self aside

Erasing the mistake of your existence.

Suffer, then, your ego and your want,

Crawl in filth and bleed in shattered glass,

Until the broken pane is mended new,

Or break upon reality’s collapse.

The Dread Star’s answer was not meant for me, and so I was only caught in the aftershock of its deliverance. Avarice bore its full weight, the profound disdain of JuRoQi’s words reaching into her roots and tearing at the weeds of vanity and self-adulation.

She screamed.

My vision blinked, and I was back in the Delve, the gentle glowstone light assaulting my vision. I fell, but caught myself with an arm before I gave the tile floor a smooch. Drops of sweat poured off of my face. A squelching sound filled the room, all that I could hear.

I looked up to see Avarice, her body halfway between the woman she presented as and the many-armed thing that she was. She hugged herself with a hundred limbs, dark ichor leaking from her eyes and nose. After a handful of seconds, the limbs withdrew and she slowly returned to a normal, albeit impossibly tall, woman. Her dark skin had transitioned from a human shade to a multitudinous greyscale, ranging from pure black to alabaster.

She reached up and wiped some of the sable liquid from her face, and it disappeared as though it had never been. She stood up straight and with deliberate motions smoothed down her dress, then looked up at me. She spoke with forced confidence, a tremor in her voice.

“Let me tell you of a man who wishes to give everything to his tribe,” she said, “but to do so, he must first become everything.”

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