Chương 42

For the next dawn, Kirk once more sat on the wall above the well. He sipped the fresh water. Below, people swarmed like ants, a constant flow running up the ridge to the hold, or further down the ridge toward the Rift. Inexplicably, Administrator Ranya had taken to sending Kirk little update missives. So that morning he had woken up to the message: 'Already, 131 new Conduits have arrived in Peakhold.'

The pronouncement had been posted the previous morning, so most of them must have hurried overnight, after receiving word. Based on the rush up the ridge's switchbacks, that number would probably double again today. Already, the most industrious, or home-minded, had seen the Imperial Sanctum's last remaining tent along the ridge and took that as implicit permission. Small temporary structures had joined that tent, forming a small village. From his vantage, Kirk heard snippets of conversations.

Conduits worrying about all the new arrivals, complaining about the growing lines to the hold's privies. And many, many individuals who worried about the whole idea.

"We have to donate energy, or run patrols, or now there are these labor brigades," One woman grumbled.

"But is it even worth it? What if enough pollution ends up in your blood and you become a psychopath?"

"An Albion created this method," A man shook his head as he hauled up a bucket of water.

"I trust that. But even so, which would you rather be: strong or sane?" A different sort of power, Kirk mused. The name Albion has weight. As Michaels had predicted, if a Conduit team had anyone close to Ascension, they threw themselves into the Rift, heedless of danger, trying to push that individual to the limit. Troops were even more aggressive, freely hiring levies to help create the situations they needed for Ascension quests. The stretch along the ridge became packed with Conduits selling their services.

Which, Kirk reflected, would mean more people would arrive. Not just for Ascension, if they were leery of pollution, but because someone else was willing to pay. Kirk pushed himself off the wall, dropped to the ground, and hurried toward the Healer's quarter. Already, a few dozen wounded were hobbling back from the Rift, only a few minutes after dawn. Michaels' skin was grey and his eyes were squinted, numbly filling out the forms given to him by the Administrator. He didn't look up when Kirk entered his tent.

"You." Kirk walked over to the listless zombie.

"Do you need-" Michaels' hand snapped out, gripping Kirk's wrist. Before he could even acknowledge, Kirk felt a wrenching sensation as his energy vanished. As he gasped and staggered, Michaels waved him away.

"I thought the worst part of my job was the guilt, the helplessness… but heh. Paperwork. Suffocation would be a blessing…"

"Can't you hire more aides to help with the recording? I gave your assistant ten gold." Kirk said. Finally, Michaels looked up. And sneered.

"I haven't seen that bastard in four days." Kirk felt an unpleasant gurgling in his stomach. He wandered out to several of Michaels' aides shouting over Conduits to carry a woman with a shattered foot toward the wounded area. Simultaneously, the Conduits waiting to donate energy were complaining that the area stank of blood. Kirk moved to an even more crowded merchant's quarter. He saw at least three separate groups in polished, themed armor as Troops arrived and stocked up on supplies.

His Bestial Senses I warned Kirk that he earned several double glances. Behind him, different groups began to whisper. But just as his mood was about to sour further, Clara and Rufus walked out from behind a Troop. She caught sight of Kirk over Rufus's shoulder and grinned, her eyes crinkling. Kirk went over to them. Rufus's gaze snapped around.

"I thought I felt your presence, Albion. Hey, is this real? A giant ritual of Ascensions means that pollution will be diluted."

"Haven't I told you? There is no pollution in the Rift." Kirk said. Then he pivoted to Clara.

"Hey."

"Hi," She whispered back.

"Well, I'm not going to miss this opportunity, either way. I can feel how close I am to Ascension." Rufus made a fist.

"With your help, Kirk, I'm almost ready too," Clara grinned. Then her face fell.

"But… I've heard there are guaranteed spots for each Tier, but there are probably only a few for Tier 0. Even if I volunteer my time and energy, will it amount to anything?"

"You could learn basic bandages and first aid," Kirk offered. Clara's expression brightened.

"Oh! I do know how to wrap a bandage." Kirk hesitated for a moment. It was slightly unfair to give advantages to these two. But he also knew that Clara had a pure and generous heart, so he decided that it was acceptable.

"Actually, I have another idea. Offer to help Healer Michaels handle all the paperwork."

"Paperwork?" Clara tilted her head to the side. Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. Suddenly, bristling Rufus was back.

"You want Clara to be someone's secretary?" Kirk ignored his tone.

"This is work that has to be done for the plan to be fair. And sure, it won't be fun. But Michaels is overwhelmed keeping track of all the Conduits volunteering. If you are the first one to offer, I think he will agree immediately."

"And what do you want in exchange for this favor, Albion?" Rufus snapped. Before Kirk could respond, Clara jabbed Rufus's shoulder with her elbow. Then she bowed to Kirk.

"I appreciate it, Kirk. It's a job I can do as a Tier 0." Kirk and Clara dragged a muttering Rufus to the Healer quarter. Kirk raised his eyebrows as he watched healing attendants staggering with buckets of water on their shoulders, trying to keep up with the demand. Inside the Healer tent, Michaels was snoring on a pile of papers.

"Hey, Healer Michaels." Kirk kicked the desk.

"Fuck off, foul demon," The Healer groaned.

"Afflict me no more with your burdens-""Healer Michaels?" Clara's voice squeaked. The Healer cracked an eye and squinted at her. Then he closed the eye.

"You aren't dying, so why are you here? Are you the kid's girlfriend?"

"I- what? No." Clara flushed. Kirk ignored the jibe.

"This is a friend, Clara. She wanted to volunteer to handle the paperwork." The Healer went very still.

"Is such a thing allowed?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" Kirk asked. Suddenly, the Healer was on his feet.

"Heh. Kid, sometimes, your crazy ways make some sense. Welcome to the team. Did you say Clara? Here is all the paperwork from this morning. I've done… uh, a fair amount of it." Clara scooted closer and peered down at the paper. She frowned at the form and then pointed.

"Alright, I'm starting to get it. This is name and Tier- ah, here is the amount donated on this occasion. But what's this?" The Healer coughed.

"Me, doing the paperwork."

"But how much energy did they give?" Clara asked. The Healer shrugged.

"Basically nothing. And were real annoying about it."

"How can the Administrator make the selections without the amount written down?" Clara seemed scandalized. Healer squinted.

"Ah, I missed how young you were at first. You really think this documentation means anything…? You've spent too much time with the kid." Kirk folded his arms across his chest.

"Do you want the help or not?"

"Sure, sure. Alright, Clara, follow me. Let's do the afternoon rounds; you can get into a groove, then if you want, you can go back and fix up my old stuff. From when I was ironing out the kinks." The Healer left with a wave. Kirk released a dry chuckle, watching Clara hurry after the Healer. Even if he remained rude, he could tell Michaels' mood had improved. He made it back to his tent and took a small break. Then, still with his energy depleted, Kirk drew the Larian Saber and held the weapon aloft.

He looked at the dark blade, wondering what could have happened that Muytta believed his weapon pitied him. His fingers tightened around the hilt. He cut and slashed with the weapon, feeling his muscles burn. As always, having Archetypes drained made the motions more difficult. But soon his band hummed. Your Manifestation Bestial Strength I has grown to [4/6]! Kirk bared his teeth. Another step forward. So the most powerful tool I own isn't just this name.

At some point, Kirk's arms could handle the motions no longer. He set down the saber and panted. After several deep swigs of water, he moved again through simple stepping and pivoting exercises. Fighting against geo-3s required reliable, sharp moves. Kirk closed his eyes.

"What will it be like? 50 individuals Ascending at once? With the state of the Rift… how many geos will attack? Kirk picked the Larian Saber back up. For three days, Kirk endured. He visited the Healer in the morning and donated his energy. The Healer was increasingly sneering and dismissive of Kirk's 'pittance of energy' but he still accepted it, even as Clara hurried after him with an armful of scrolls. After the donation, Kirk worked on his saber moves.

He didn't go into the Rift at all; reports were coming out that if you encountered a single geo, you probably encountered almost a dozen. The roving groups were increasingly dangerous, to the point that most teams made alliances to combine their forces and push their chosen individuals toward the cusp of Ascension. Occasionally an individual came to Kirk and tried to wheedle him for a spot in the Ascension group.

Even rarer was an individual who cursed him, for spreading lies, intending to monopolize all the spots with his own subordinates. Kirk ignored them all. His hands grew calloused. The Larian Saber felt natural. He chopped and the air shook with the force of his blow. With small steps, his feats recognized his improvements. Your Feat Larian Wielder has gained a ✷! Your Feat Strength has gained a ✷! At the end of those three days, Kirk went on another patrol.

The whole first hour, Rufus couldn't stop laughing; he had finally pushed his Sword Knack to its full potential. The lanky teenager bounced around, talking about all the sword-related Archetypes he had ever heard of. In a lull, Clara stood close to Kirk and spoke in a quiet voice.

"I wanted to thank you again. I know it's not glamorous, but the job of recording- I can do it. It feels like I'm earning the chance of Ascension. It's a good feeling." When she looked at him with such pure eyes, when Clara's golden hair caught the sun, Kirk felt his heartbeat quicken. She really was very pretty. He gulped.

"Y-you are welcome."

"Plus, Healer Michaels is a good teacher. He's told me about the proper way to treat wounds." That surprised Kirk.

"He's teaching you?"

"Honestly? I think he's just bored." Clara chuckled.

"He has enough energy, so he can now take some time to torture the wounded. He will twist and position them in uncomfortable ways, just to make sure they remember this feeling. But still, it's a good chance to learn. I earned the First Aid Feat. Who knows, maybe my next Archetype will be related to healing, somehow." When they returned to Peakhold, Kirk straightened. At the end of the messy cluster of tents, new, more spacious structures were being set up.

Tents made of linen, with various banners hanging from the front. Outside the gate, a guard Kirk recognized gestured.

"Lesser Nobility from Eaglehold arrived this morning. Willing to pay a lot of silver to be protected in the Rift, and have people donate their energy in their name." Next to him, an older guard snorted.

"The first wave of moochers arrived. Better watch it, Young Master Albion. For every good plan, there are a half dozen individuals scrambling to benefit without doing any work."