Today's Earth date: October 2? 1991

Our presence nearly killed our hosts. We were attacked from the forest in the night, and we didn't notice monsters in the water until the boy was dragged under. They had long black tentacles and teeth like piranhas.

We got to him in time, and he should live, but we can't heal his mind. That look in his eyes… It's hard to accept that he would have been safe if we weren't here.

-The Journal of Laszlo the Paladin

***

Defeating the ettins unlocked a new skill from After Burner II:

Missile - Air-to-air guided missiles that rarely miss their target.

Guided missiles sounded too good to be true, yet, that's what the description implied. Wayne's hopes soured further when he couldn't find a new Missile listing under his spells or skills, nor did he see any change in his stats that would suggest it offered a benefit like Power Ring, Medicine, or Ice Combat Suit. Or perhaps it buffed the Missile spell?

He wasn't in the mood for riddles.

Three wagons and eight people smaller, the caravan continued on, trying to make up time to get through the mountains on schedule. Wayne couldn't see how that'd be possible after losing over half a day to the ettin attack and its aftermath. Having displayed his strength, he was asked to ride at the front for added security to aid in the effort of making up time. When he glanced forlornly in the direction of his cozy carriage, the caravan leader offered to bring it to the front so that he'd be more comfortable.

That would be nice as well as insanely insensitive. The gymnastics for moving the carriage from the back to the front on this road would be substantial, if it was possible at all, and that would give all of the other travelers plenty of time to see what a toolbag this rich prick with a sword was.

So, he declined and sat on the hard wooden bench next to the lead driver. He felt every bounce vibrate through his broken ribs, which was constant in the mountains. It was like a stabbing stomach pain that never stopped.

All told, they lost a full day of progress, but they didn't see any more ettins. When they finally descended the mountains, the road becoming more dirt than stone, a wave of relief washed over the caravan. Wayne could feel the unified tension that every traveler felt in their hearts and how it relaxed when the road widened and they saw green again.

The caravan circled the wagons in the first open field they found. Conversations sounded more hopeful as the stars came out and each campfire sparked to life.

Wayne received several handshakes, hugs, and back pats on his way to find Fergus. Now that the worst was behind them, he was told his watchful eyes were no longer needed. He could resume being a passenger with everyone's extraordinary gratitude for what he contributed.

The tent the carriage service pitched for him and Fergus was as comfy as the first, the pad beneath his bedroll better than some of the inns he'd visited in this world. If he was lucky, the system would count this as a proper rest and restore his hitpoints. He looked forward to taking a full inhale without his own splintered bones stabbing his lungs.

***

"Trolls!" a voice yelled.

The camp around Wayne's tent erupted to life. He looked at his stats before he opened his eyes.

Hero: Wayne the Guy

Level: 7

HP: 63/146

STR: 17

AGI: 13

VIT: 14

LCK: 21

So much for recovering his hitpoints.

Any person who could hold a weapon had one in their hands, whether that was a family heirloom sword or a pitchfork. The true soldiers stood on top of the wagons with bows or waited on the ground to protect the gaps between wagons with spears. The few elderly people with the caravan gathered the children in the center to try and calm them. Fergus resented being lumped into that group but did his part regardless. Wayne cast Defense on his friend before he got too far away and was relieved to see the ethereal shield stay with Fergus as the old scholar ran off to help.

Probe.

Nine red dots in total attacking from two sides.

Spotting archers on opposite sides of the camp firing arrows as quickly as they could nock them, Wayne felt reasonably confident that everyone was aware that the attack came from two fronts.

The night was moonless and a gentle mist rose from the grass. Wayne jumped next to the nearest archer and cast Light to look for enemies, but even with help from his HUD, he had a hard time tracking the black forms darting about. The archers had the same challenge, apparently. He saw only one arrow hit any of the trolls on this side of the caravan despite the volume archers fired into the darkness.

"Don't shoot me!" Wayne called as he Blitzed toward one of the red dots, hoping his headlamp was enough of a clue to keep him safe.

As soon as he could see the enemy, this fight would be much easier.

His headlamp shined on a gangly black figure covered in warts and gnarled flesh. A few of the growths were larger than the others, looking like burls bursting from the trunk of a sick tree.

Its eyes were a milky yellow, and they squinted at the bright light. The troll opened its mouth for a warcry but one Blitz sent its head cartwheeling through the grass.

Eight red outlines appeared in Wayne's vision. He couldn't see any of the features of the monsters within those outlines, but he had enough information to track and attack.

Skycat F-14XX sped out of the darkness, hurtling toward a troll about to rip the spear out of a soldier's hand. Wayne saw a new menu option appear like it was a suboption under Skycat. It read: Missile.

Wayne smashed that shit without hesitation.

Missiles, exactly like those from his spell, blasted from the nose of the miniature fighter jet. Even in spite of his shock, he noticed the sensation of mana leaving his body, the same feeling he got when he cast Missile the normal way.

That was interesting, but he didn't have the time to think about the implications.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

He piloted Skycat into another troll climbing the side of a wagon while he Blitzed toward the last living troll on this side of camp. As his sword ran through its heart, the monster spitting black blood, Wayne heard the shriek of panicked travelers.

A troll had broken through the line of soldiers.

Aiming himself appropriately, he mashed Blitz to center himself over the camp, dozens of feet in the air.

Brake-Repel.

The moment he paused, he picked the troll in camp as a target. It was grinning at two farmers standing between it and the children. Like a goblin or an orc, it died where it stood, collapsing the second he selected the spell.

He repeated that sequence of Brake then Repel on his way to the ground, hitting every remaining troll as rapidly as he could.

He felt relief when the last troll went down. That relief morphed into dizziness, and he passed out, falling from the sky.

***

When he came to, it was still dark out, but the people looking down at him were very much alive. That was good news.

His stat menu was not good news.

Hero: Wayne the Guy

Level: 7

HP: 1/146

STR: 17

AGI: 13

VIT: 14

LCK: 21

Down to 1 hitpoint. Damn, that was quite a fall. Maybe being unconscious during the descent was for the best.

He accepted the healing potion pressed to his lips and then accepted a second. 61 hitpoints was more comforting than 1, but the pain was the same. Not dying felt great, though. Really great.

"Thank you again," the caravan leader said. "I've done this trip hundreds of times in my life, and I've never had one go this bad. Maybe a goblin attack or the odd orc raid, but nothing like this. Ettins? Trolls? Never seen them before, ever, let alone on the road."

Wayne and Fergus exchanged nervous glances.

"I'm so sorry you've had to help us so much."

"You didn't invite the ettins. Or the trolls. Don't blame yourself."

"All the same, I–"

"Wait," Wayne said. "How much do you know about trolls?" When the caravan leader and the others around him said very little, he continued. "Please burn them. Immediately and quickly."

A few faces paled, remembering their troll trivia in that moment. Wayne felt better when several of those faces around him hustled away with torches in their hands. He asked, as gently as he could through the pain, for everyone around him to disperse. He appreciated the concern, but he'd be fine.

Fergus handed him a glass of wine.

"What? Where did you get this?"

Fergus shrugged. "I packed some in the carriage. Why make a long trip harder?"

"I can't argue." Wayne sipped timidly, moving gingerly through the aches and pains.

"That was quite the performance. Very dynamic."

"Thank you."

"So," Fergus said, sitting in the grass next to Wayne.

"So."

"We have to talk about it."

Wayne sighed. "It's my fault."

Every Chosen Hero in every cycle going back twenty three cycles complained about their encounter rate. They were magnets for local monsters and faced constant camp raids and ambushes. A few scholars had argued that those battles were essential for the Heroes' growth.

Wayne and Fergus both read the same literature. The ratman encounter was the first hint, but travels had gone smoothly since. When the ettins attacked, Fergus raised the topic again, but Wayne argued that not everything had to be because of the system.

They both knew Wayne couldn't make that argument anymore.

"I guess we travel alone from now on," Wayne said.

"I had a feeling you'd have an extreme reaction like that, so let me tell you why you're being rash."

Wayne laughed and motioned for Fergus to continue.

"We buy our own carriage and hire our own staff."

Wayne laughed harder.

Fergus scowled. "I'm not walking. You're out of your mind if you thought that was a possibility for even a moment."

"I don't want to put people in danger."

"That's the job! They would know exactly what they were getting into and would be compensated appropriately."

"I don't know," Wayne said.

"We'll have the budget. Nevermind what we get out of dungeons. Just abusing the hell out of your Storage skill will make us enough gold to have a private chef if we wanted."

Wayne wasn't sure about spending so much of their gold so quickly.

"Why should we save it?" Fergus asked.

"Because… We might need it?"

Fergus shook his head. "Financially, the worst that can happen is we go back to the jobs we would have had anyway."

He was right. "What do you have in mind?"

His plan started with hiring an adventuring party to make dungeon runs safer and easier. Then they needed a carriage driver, a cook, and a squire.

"Holy crap."

"We're pretty sharp individuals, but we don't have all the knowledge we need to be serious about this," Fergus argued. "Comfort is a byproduct of utility in this case."

"How do we find all of these people?"

"Few postings at the guild halls and major taverns. Then do some interviews."

Wayne dropped his head in his hands. Job postings? Interviewing candidates? Resumes?

He was a hop and a skip away from having a human resources department.

"You really think we can fill all those positions?"

Fergus nodded. "It'll be like with Gus's boys, I suspect. Hire a group for the dungeon diving and another for the wagon and camp team."

"And we can afford it?"

"Definitely."

Wayne agreed and got to work convincing himself that his luxury twist on adventuring was really about improving the performance of his coming expeditions, but he had something to do before he could fully focus on rationalizing his soft as hell adventurer life.

"I'll go tell them," Wayne said dejectedly, climbing to his feet.

***

Watching the caravan pull away, their accommodations with it, was like watching the boat sail away on a survival show.

"I keep telling myself this is for the best," Fergus said.

"I told you I was okay alone."

"I need to complain a bit is all. Part of my coping process."

Wayne patted Fergus on the back this time. "You have every right to complain. I got those travelers killed. Could have lost more last night."

Fergus encouraged Wayne not to blame himself. Ettins did the killing, and he had no reason to suspect his Diary would start attracting monsters after four years of total peace. Now they knew for sure and immediately put distance between themselves and innocents.

Four hours into walking, Wayne took Fergus' backpack and bag. The old scholar didn't have 17 strength, after all.

Two hours after that, they crested a small rise in the road and saw the terrain was all downhill open field from there to the coast. Wayne felt a gentle wind carrying the fragrance of saltwater. Cuan wasn't quite in a proper bay, but Wayne could see a gentle indent in the coastline. Cobblestone walls surrounded the city, their height comparable to the walls around Teagaisg, but stone must be harder to come by in this region. Other than the walls, few structures inside were built from it. Most were built from timber and plaster, but even from here the craftsmanship of those structures was obvious.

Cuan was somewhere between the Capital and Teagaisg in size and every bit as impressive as its sisters on the other side of the mountains. Wayne counted nine galleons docked at Cuan, their sails furled, a flurry of seagulls constantly shifting and flying above them. As the sun dipped in the west, the long shadows of the ships cast across the water looked like silhouettes in a painting.

"Magnificent," Fergus said, savoring the view.

Wayne agreed, taken by the scene by himself.

"If we had a private carriage, we'd be two bottles in by now," Fergus said.

"I already agreed to hiring one."

"In science, reconfirming our conclusions is as valuable as reaching a conclusion in the first place."

Wayne laughed at his friend, but didn't take his eyes off the port city ahead.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.