Chapter 318

  When Everyone Tries to Help You, For All The Wrong Reasons

  Three things can almost guarantee success.

  Being in the right uniform, at the right place, at the right time.

  Three conditions passed down by dad that still stick with me.

  Though to be historically accurate, I believe his exact wording was, “if you are going streaking all you need to do is go with your friends and what God gave you. If you are going to a funeral, you wear your best, so you don’t embarrass others before God.”

  Something like that.

  While I might not always agree with the phrasing, his meaning was there.

  That is why I try to take most of what happens to me on a daily basis with a grain of salt. Particularly when one of my best friends is a Tailor, one who has a constant need for constantly playing dress up and making me putting on new and more elaborate soul bound uniforms.

  I can’t help but agree with the fact that she does set the tone and stage with her uniforms provided. As they are all high quality, feeling both sleek to touch, and allowing for ample range of movement.

  That is mostly why I decided to go with her newest uniform that she provided for me to wear before calling it a night.

  Well, she did make sure to see me try it on first, after which she squealed with delight at apparently how cute I looked.

  While I wanted to complain and change out of the new uniform for today, I couldn’t help but feel that there was some merit to her want to get me to change my Guild Issued Uniform that I had been galivanting around in.

  One could argue that the stats and bonuses applied to my last uniform were great, and worth a lot of hassle that came along with wearing them.

  There was also the idea that I would look childish if I decided to keep using my pretty-pretty Bride’s Maid dress. That is why I was given and asked to wear what was deemed an appropriate garment befitting my new position for the day.

  A military uniform.

  Yes, Class B, because Penelope of course was working on an even cuter Class A uniform for formal occasions. That was the exact word she used.

  From my understanding Class B uniforms are what are referred to as the basic day-to-day uniforms of the soldiers.

  Since my role had somehow expanded to help train volunteer soldiers wishing to survive a bit longer on the battlefield, and the fact that I didn’t want to lose any more souls to war, I acquiesced.

  Dropping my porcelain doll dress for a more assertive military uniform, one that came with a belt. Yes, the Waist slot was the new major change. Well the belt and the fact that I was apparently too quiet in my dress, thus the switch to having my Silent Movement bonus halved between models. That said the payoff was increases to Energy Hiding and Energy Efficiency. With Energy Conversion being an entirely new bonus.

  Yep, regardless of how this goes, unless Penelope really out does herself with her next dress up idea, I might have to stick with the military uniform.

  Then again, we are apparently still at war, so it only makes sense that all senior leadership takes this moment seriously.

  Also, there is the not too subtle jab about Mallory being able to track my daily progress by completing this daily quest. A quest that would normally be tough, but not impossible to complete on my own.

  Yet now I have been given complete guild funding and resources to make this quest happen.

  At first, I was glad for the idea of help. There are a lot of moving parts of this operation, and honestly a bit of help couldn’t hurt.

  I was even glad when one of the parts was completed without my having to do anything.

  Chime.

  And like that, I was now down to six remaining parts of this quest to complete.

  “Come on mom,” Gwen began herding me like I was some form of ornery cat. By this point Penelope had turned in to take a quick nap before her afternoon Enchanting + class would take effect. Which meant only Gwen was around, as my apparent handler, until Jhonny and Valeria both would replace her.

  Again, I almost felt slighted by the idea that I needed handlers, but at the same time being forced to spend time with my daughter was a nice bonus, for me at least. Still not certain how she thinks of the whole situation, other than seeing in her coldly logical businesswoman approach. Yet, I know that is just the persona she exudes.

  Deep down, well I don’t know how she thinks deep down, but I am curious to see where she will go from here.

  As we get closer, I realize something is wrong.

  “Wait, why are so many people at the campus just standing around?” I ask.

  Realizing that while my sense of direction is not as terrible as it used to be, I can see the tell-tale signs of my prolonged magical stay in the area.

  For a moment, I try to understand what happened to the area, and I come up with the idea that prolonged exposure to pixie dust has a residual effect on an area.

  While I might be able to force an area to a Tier III rating of mana and Qi with Arcane Geomancy, it would appear that staying in a Tier III area for a long time will have a secondary effect due to prolonged exposure to pixie dust, or what is technically Ephemeral Energy.

  Honestly, I don’t know how to take the idea that there is clearly why I am now referring to as a Tier IV rating of magical resonance.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  This is bad, as I currently take damage and slowly wither away in areas that I cannot convert to a Tier III rating of purity.

  Normal land would be Tier I, that is able to be used and operated on by the average person.

  I didn’t think there was a Tier 0, but after being in and surrounded by Blighted lands for so long, I must amend my thoughts on the matter. And I’m pretty sure I’m ready to classify Blighted lands as Tier 0.

  Blighted lands being given a Tier 0 rating makes the most sense, and would explain why people from Tier I and above environments have a hard time adapting to the caustic lands. It would also explain the processes needed to convert a Blighted creature or person back to a regular variation of that same being.

  “GAH!” I hiss, wanting to try to keep these thoughts straight and written down.

  “Everything okay?” Gwen asks, a true note of concern in her voice as she asks.

  I pause trying to understand why, but then I realize she knows I hate public speaking. Worse, given the number of soldiers who are here to try to take up the maximum of thirty-nine, or below forty spots for class, I can’t blame her.

  Part of me also realizes that my mind wandering right now is likely a way to distract myself from trying to cut down the gathered masses of people to a more manageable thirty-nine.

  “How many are here for the tryouts?” I find myself asking.

  “A little over thirteen hundred last time I got a head count,” Gwen admitted.

  “Thirteen hundred? You know I can only take thirty-nine, right?” I ask.

  “Yeah, but you see this was kind of offered as a reward for every soldier and citizen who proved themselves during the invasion,” Gwen answered.

  “That’s less than three percent of the people gathered that I can accept, they know this right?” I ask trying to clarify.

  “They know it, and they are all willing to give it a try.”

  Thinking back, I remember when we barely had a hundred soldiers try out for the Qi classes, and now it has increased by this many?

  I know part or at least half of the increase is due to the Deolarians finally being added to the mix, still that is a six- or seven-fold increase in applicants from the living.

  “Okay, I make no promises, other than to assess each group stringently,” I finally respond.

  “That’s all they ask for, actually many have said that they would be willing to pay you in Guild Credits for group or personal training before classes begin.”

  Oh great, more guild fun bucks.

  I don’t even know how many guild fun bucks I have. Nor how many it would take to get a cup of coffee. Should I even drink coffee? Hmm, I wonder what coffee would do to my system?

  “Mom, what are you thinking about?” Gwen asks, a clear note of concern in her voice.

  “What? Oh, nothing important,” I reply.

  It’s not, by now the food and drinks are mostly an idea or abstract concept to me. Even on the alien void realm I didn’t need food.

  I did need air.

  And while I never managed to get the void realm to a Tier III state of non-painful mana present. I did get a lot of it to a Tier I rating, meaning it just felt like my skin was being scraped off by the violent winds when I was let out of the protective prison.

  It was in the void realm, or void planet, that I came to the realization that Blighted lands are not that bad. No, the lands on that void planet were by far the worst.

  Looking back on it, I am pretty sure I need to write down some of these observations and histories. Mainly so I don’t have to make the same mistakes twice, or so Gods forbid, someone could learn from my mistakes. I would need a pseudonym, maybe even a completely bland alias who pretends to do IT, while secretly recording my histories and laying them out in a chronological order to show how I got here. Which, honestly, I’m not quite certain how I got here myself.

  This ghost writer persona should be someone who just knows my history without me having to say everything.

  Thinking about this issue, while I try to avoid the very idea of trying to deny close to thirteen hundred applicants a chance to attend SVC, I get my eureka moment.

  “I’ve got it,” I hiss to myself in triumph as I come up with the most logical response to what is happening to me.

  A way to help me log all of these issues, and preserve them so others don’t fail nearly as many times as I have.

  “What?” Gwen calls out, her voice pulling me from my deep personal thoughts on the matter.

  Being pulled out of my thoughts, I turn to her and pause, wondering if I should share my thoughts. Then after a moment, I decided that telling her wouldn’t really cause any problems.

  “I need more Simulacrums,” I answer honestly.

  “WHAT?” Gwen asks, this time even more energetically.

  “Yes, well I really just need one more Simulacrum, ScribeUlacrum, but I’m pretty sure I am going to get a lot more Simulacrums the next time I get more,” I respond honestly.

  Even speaking about the concept, I can feel more than two dots forming in my mind, which likely means I would get at least two, if not more Simulacrums, next time my number increased. Given the current trends of Simulacrums, I started off with one. Then next time I got a second one for a total of two. Then this last time I got two more, for a total of four.

  That means either the base number is doubling, i.e. going from one, to two, to four. This sequencing would mean that the next burst of Simulacrums would be a total of four new Simulacrums, pushing me to eight overall.

  Or we are doing the Fibonacci sequence, where rather than four, I should get three, a combination of the last two numbers. In this case the last two would be two and one, making three new Simulacrums, or a total of seven overall.

  My money would be on the Fibonacci sequence over base doubling, as it is the sequence most found in nature. That said, I’m now curious.

  Out of an abundance of caution, I should start thinking about different purposes and locations to store the other Simulacrums.

  ScribeUlacrum could go to the Fairie Library on floor 200 of the Arcanarus Tower with FaeUlacrum. Another, PirateUlacrum could go with ShipUlacrum. Leaving AdventureUlacrum with me here.

  Logically, I should prepare for one more Simulacrum and their role, in case I am wrong, and it was base doubling all along, but something in me holds off on that notion.

  “Are you okay?” Gwen asks, a note of concern in her voice.

  I pause, trying to figure out why she is now concerned about me. Only to realize I was doing my own waffling decision look a moment ago.

  “Oh yeah, I’m fine,” I reply.

  “You know, we can break this down into smaller groups?” Gwen offered.

  For a moment I am caught off guard as I don’t even know where that question came from. Only after a second do I realize that we are now entering a top wall that overlooks my open courtyard where I spent so many days teaching last semester. I can see everything thanks to my Angel’s Sight.

  We are still moving into position.

  There is an opening, a giant buttress where Gwen is now taking me.

  “No, I’m good, I was just thinking about what I truly need,” I reply honestly.

  “And what is that?” Gwen asks, as she pulls out a pad of paper and an ink pen. Seeing that she is taking this seriously, I answer her question without any form of subterfuge.

  “I need more Simulacrums.”

  “Mo… more?” Gwen stammers out, but it is already too late as I cannot answer any more questions for I am now in position.

  Clamor.

  People were idly talking to each other in hushed whispers before I appeared, but the moment I did, everyone suddenly grew quiet as all eyes turned towards me.

  Those that didn’t see me immediately soon had their neighbors poking them and gesturing towards me, to keep them quiet.

  Near, but not complete silence.

  Looking down, I can see that the entire courtyard is filled with hundreds of bodies. Worse, this was apparently just the first wave of potential students. Despite the gestures and the protestations of others, people were still talking, meaning I would likely have to shout to be heard. At least, that is what likely would have happened to the old me.

  Jitters.

  For a moment, I thought about being the one female mathematician having to brief high level executives who were clearly more distracted by their smartphones and future dinner dates than anything I spoke about.

  I wasn’t frightened before but suddenly seeing so many people and elven ghosts alike staring back up at me, many of whom still chattered amongst themselves, albeit quietly. I couldn’t help but feel a bit out of my own depths here.

  At least that is how I began.

  Then taking a deep breath, I calmed my mind and focused on the character that I wanted to emulate the most at this moment.

  It took a moment, but then I found her, and began speaking to the new group of perspective students.

  With this speech I wanted to set the tone for how things were going to be. How this was to be a place of discovery and learning. A place where everyone would have the chance to explore their own understandings of magic, where we could understand the world around us with fresh perspectives and trust.

  That was what I wanted to convey.

  What came out however was slightly different.

  Because there were so many people that I decided to pull out all the stops and even create a brand-new spell to make sure there was no confusion over what I was saying, or what was being expected of me.

  Radial-Forced Selective Hearing.

  Garbled moans.

  Ever wonder what happens when people suddenly can’t hear themselves talk? Well apparently they all begin moaning oddly like zombies with their vocal cords severed.

  Realizing, this was going to get distracting if I didn’t do something, I began falling into my role of a teacher and someone who could help inspire the next generation of magicians and Qi users. What came out was something entirely different.

  “Listen here scum. I don’t care about how powerful your grandmother’s uncle’s barber said you are. Nor how exceptional your master’s second pet chihuahua noted your abilities at casting Fire Egg Omelets were. None of that matters. Nothing you were before matters. All that matters is what you show me here today!”

  I began.

  Silence.

  For the first time since I got here, there was finally true silence and I was able to think.

  Realizing this was my chance, I decided to take it and get the most out of it.

  “You’ve got until my morning Qi Conditioning class to impress me. When I say you are done, leave,” I state as I point to the exits. “If you had the yips, think you could have done better, just get back in at the end of the line and try again. I will only take thirty-nine of you.”

  “Let that sink in, only thirty-nine of you. Look around to your right and left.”

  They did, then after a second they all looked back up at me.

  “All of those people you saw next to you, none of them are going to join me. I only want you. But not just you, the best version of you there is. I can’t take scrubs. If you don’t earn it the first time, get back in line and try again to impress me. I might fail you all once just to see that you are truly committed to this class, this way of life.”

  Silence.

  It was still oddly silent, as even the perspective students in the back were being quiet.

  That’s when I decided to give them some encouragement.

  “Any questions?”

  Silent head shakes.

  Everyone had gotten the hint of not talking, but I only wanted them to not talk to each other. Lest they miss my instructions.

  “I can’t hear you!” I shouted.

  “GWAWOOOHAAA!”

  Possibly the oddest and most violent burst of noise ever heard by only one person rang out. There was no cadence, no natural rhythm to it, just close to a thousand people shouting out all at once. It wasn’t pretty, it was closer to pure chaos than anything, and I loved it. The way the raw untapped emotion of the sounds converged into one amplified scream of defiance.

  Hearing them all cry out in unison like that, I was motivated.

  “Good, now let us begin…”