Chapter 33

We didn’t go straight away. Cuilcis argued that we should, that we were risking our lives the longer we stayed out here, where anybody could stumble upon us.

I didn’t care. Not only had my health taken a battering, I drastically needed to do something about my gear. Even if I admitted that I’d need help to survive in the long run, I wasn’t about to waltz into what could be hostile territory without being as prepared as I could become.

“Are you sure that this is the right thing to do?” I watched, frowning, as Harten’s corpse ever-so-slowly scraped across the ground toward the edge of the cliff.

Cuilcis focused, squinting as he slowly walked behind the heavy corpse, a short wand pointed at the corpse, while drops of sweat broke out on his face. “Certainty. A lot of beasts, and people, have excellent noses or other senses. If you insist on healing up before continuing, we need to remove the corpses. I will remove whatever scent remains from the blood up here.”

“That wasn’t what I… Ah. Never mind.” Clearly, they had no hang-ups about any sort of burial rituals and the like in these parts. Besides, he’d already had me remove the extra-heavy slabs of armor on the big guy, stating that, even battered as they were, he’d be able to re-purpose them.

I’d gone through their gear. I’d never have thought myself squeamish back on Earth to begin with, and certainly not once I’d spent a week fighting for survival here on Ademia and eating goddamn Marmots! Yet, something about the act of rifling through the equipment of people felt wrong. Like, purple or not, these Adrastians were actual people who, if I’d met them in a bar, I might have actually gotten along with. Now, I’d killed them and was picking through their stuff.

Still, I wouldn’t deny that I was the better off for it. Lassem, the spear-wielding Adrastian, had been the source of a nearly full set of armor. I had to stick with my own completely battered chest armor for now, given that they were rail thin compared to me. Yet, their adjustable arm, shoulder and leg armor fit decently once I got the straps adjusted. Well. It didn’t restrict my motions too much, at least, even if I predicted chafing in my near future. On top of the quality, the soft, subtle leather armor with intricate black inscriptions was actually enhanced, granting me +1 to Agility and +1 to Strength.

Besides that, rummaging through the female Adrastian’s pack revealed a small buckler that I eventually decided to pick as a replacement for my own shield. It was a sad affair. I really shouldn’t be that attached to a simple piece of crafted bone that the U-Nerds had themselves deemed to be beginner gear. Yet, I couldn’t deny that – even though the damn thing had saved my life several times over – it was beyond salvage. Harten’s single blow to the shield had practically broken the damn thing in half above my arm. The upper half still hung on for dear life, flapping sadly when I walked. It was time. It needed to be put to rest.

The new buckler… wasn’t going to be a keeper. I could tell that straight away. It was circular, made of some sort of hardened leather, reinforced by a metal rim. The material wasn’t the issue. It was the size. It was way too small, maybe thirty centimetres across, with a handle to grasp onto, rather than having it strapped onto the forearm. This was a buckler made for fast movement and exquisite control, rather than something big you could hunker down behind. In short, it was not for me. Still, it would do for me until I managed to replace it with something properly big and solid – even if it did feel like I was waving a goddamn potlid around.

I also got some money. All the money that the three recently deceased protectors had on them by rights had become mine. Cuilcis was actually strangely insistent about it.

Money in Ademia, apparently, was weird. Because they weren’t, in any shape or style, uniform.

“How’s that even work? You’re telling me that this is worth the same as this?” I held up two disparate pieces. One was some sort of circular ceramic piece, polished, with a dark red glaze. If you looked at it at the right angle, it might be mistaken for a coin, except it was shaped more like a cookie. The other was some dark metal, flattened and triangular, with only the slightest effort put in to ensure the sharp edges didn’t draw blood.

“Denial. There is no way that, wherever you come from, can be that backward. Do you not have money?”

I backtracked, tried to find an explanation that didn’t give away exactly where I was from, and ended up with a weak excuse. “Yeah. I guess we were kind of backward. It was more of a barter economy.” That, by chance wasn’t even a lie, as long as we were talking about the Ever Steady.

He scoffed. “Well, money in actual civilization is simple.” He pointed at the piece of metal. “Hold that in your hand. Then concentrate on the sensation, and picture inhaling, but from the metal.”

I started protesting.

“Exasperation. This is easier done than discussed. Just try.”

Rolling my eyes, I did. I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the metal. I… felt nothing. Nothing, except a growing suspicion that I was being trolled. “There’s nothing.”

“Some are slower to catch it than others. Sincerity. Anybody can do this.”

I growled, but continued. After a few minutes, I was surprised to realize that there actually was sort of… a presence in my hand. I closed my eyes and tried to investigate the sensation. It felt like a reservoir of sorts, a glowing aperture, but in the world itself. Frowning, I wondered where the fuck I got that impression from. There was no helpful description or anything, that was for sure. “What is this?”

“Try to open your mind to it. Picture opening a gate inside yourself, letting what is in the coin enter.”

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I tried. It took several minutes, and I increasingly believed I was too dumb for whatever this was. Then, slowly, a sensation came over me. “What the fuck?” I was filled with energy. The world tasted like ozone and power.

He nodded. “Satisfaction. There you go. Check your overview.”

It took me a moment before I found what he was talking about.

Mana: 170/70

“This is mana?” I croaked, still trying to contain the energy within.

“Just so. Mana, solidified into any material that will accept it, adjusted to fit the standards. Minor coins, like these, are worth a hundred mana. Then you have regular coins, worth two hundred fifty mana each, while large coins are worth five hundred mana. Any merchant worth their trade will have an instrument to check that the mana is still sealed and accurate.”