Bob stood there expecting an answer and while he was trying Tom was not impressed with him. Bob was many things, but he doubted anyone had ever described him as Sherlock Holmes.
“Nothing more than what we could see at the crime scene.” Everlyn shrugged her shoulders. “There was an icky feeling. Possibly an aura. I couldn’t quite work out what it was. And as you know Tom’s already identified something funny happened in the fate space.”
Bob’s face scrunched up like he would have back in the day if someone had announced they were a tarot card reader. “I hate fate.”
“Unfortunately, his senses are not accurate enough to have discovered a pattern to track whatever is doing this.” Everlyn ploughed on.
“Who.” Bob interrupted.
Everlyn arched an eyebrow.
“It’s a who. Cook pot was poisoned. We’re still working out how and with what.”
“Whoever,” Everlyn corrected herself. “Killed Tiny did damage in the fate space. There is a hole,” she glanced toward Tom to make sure she was getting this right. “Where the body was and then shifting patterns of disruption elsewhere.”
“I know fate’s a thing.” Bob look thoughtful as he tried to phrase what he wanted to say. “But isn’t it sort of like luck? How can you see it? Can you bottle it?”
Tom felt like smacking his forehead. Apparently, when he had reported the fate problem last time it had gone in one ear and out the other. “Yes, I can sense it.”
Bob still did not appear convinced. His nose wrinkled, expressing his feelings. “I prefer tangible stuff.”
Tom stopped himself from rolling his eyes. Tangible!? “Did you use fate in DEUS’s trial?” Then he thought back to his own experience in the trial. He remembered reading system books that discussed in exhaustive detail the value of strength. Ones that clearly stated that it was more than weightlifting, that it would affect things like speed and how high you could jump, but there had been no philosophical discussions about Fate. In fact, outside of his exploring the impact of fate via his questions to DUX there had been very little written anywhere. Sure, there were lots of throw away lines like. ‘You can use it to improve loot portals,’ or ‘it triggers automatically to give you luck in fights.’ Those lines were plentiful, but in terms of instructing the benefits of active use. Specifying how fate could change things and when best to use it, there had been nothing.
Maybe he was judging everyone too harshly. It was quite possible that the true value of Fate had been deliberately obfuscated and despite that numerous people understood the wider uses of fate.
“Of course,” Bob answered his question loudly. “Of course I used fate. It’s reported on the status screen. It automatically got used when I had tough battles. Then, if I was done for the fighting and got access to a loot portal, I’d always use it then.” He snorted. “Stupid mechanism, but that ensured I received useful stuff instead of junk.”
Everlyn and Tom exchanged a glance.
“Tom, you’re going to have to give a speech about how to get the best use out of fate to everyone.”
Tom tried to put on his most cute expression. “Me?” He did a little shrug and opened his hands to indicate innocent astonishment. He wasn’t sure if he got anywhere near hitting the mark. Unlike Emily, his little sister, he had never practised expressions in front of the mirror.
Everlyn smirked. “You want me to do it, don’t you?”
“That would be great.”
“One condition.”
“Sure.”
“Whatever you just did with your face. Don’t ever do it again. You look like a constipated monkey that had an egg cracked on its head.”
Bob cleared his throat. “As cute as this is,” he said dryly. “Do you have something tangible to help with the investigation?”
“No.” Tom answered promptly. “Everyone had different levels of the energy that sent them to sleep. Fate was also fluctuating like crazy, but there were no patterns.”
“Report to me immediately if you discover anything else.”
“Sure.” After Bob had departed to go quiz more people they retired to a spot between the expanded shelters. The main shelter had been split in two and created a triangle around the wide sleeping spot that has been assigned to him and his team. The occasional wasps continually buzzed in and initially got fried with Spark, but eventually he had the power to summon a steam wisp to do the same job, but more efficiently.
They listened to the hum of conversation. If, after Jeffrey they had been an eggshell with a couple of cracks of running through it, they were now that same shell shattered and the fragments scattered.
“Only one of us sleeps at a time.” The voice was quiet loud. The owner had tried to whisper, but his voice had cut through the sleep.
There was a murmur back whose words were intelligible to Tom.
“Four hours shifts.”
More muted response.
“I don’t trust anyone else.”
It was a couple Tom realised, diving up responsibility between the two of them. Sharing watches with just two people would be brutal.
Tom couldn’t see into the tents, but everything he had observed told its own story. Bob wasn’t helping either he was actively pushing for higher security and to establish separate groups. Everyone was going along with him. Suspicion had ratcheted up to the next level. The ideal of a communal cook pot was gone, with three different fires being set up to create the evening meal and even then most people were not sharing, preferring to cook their own.
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Bob walked over to be directly in front of them. He cleared his throat aggressively. “You two are both in group one.”
“What does that mean?” Everlyn asked, but Tom knew it was almost a rhetorical question. It had been pretty obvious what the ex-policeman had been up to.
“You eat from group one’s cook pot and you have your own guards functioning at all times.”
“You’ve divided us up in teams?”
“Yes, we don’t want everyone being knocked out again. Your team and in shelter three.” He pointed and one glance told Tom that it was everyone who had a solid alibi having been caught in the trial or in his specific group. “Now I have duties.”
Stiffly, Bob walked away.
“He’s an idiot,” Tom smacked the ground. This arrangement was not the type to promote community spirit. “Not only do we have to worry about being murdered,” Tom said. “But we’re actively segregating ourselves. Fracturing into smaller groups. This won’t help us meet an external threat.”
“It’s a hard one.” Everlyn agreed. “But I can’t blame them. People being killed in such a small group is terrifying. Personally, I feel safe because of who has been eliminated. It’s almost like the killers trying to do as little collateral damage as possible.”
“Fat lot of good that does us. They’re tearing the place apart. Look at everyone. The damage is more than the loss of Jeffery and Tiny.”
“No argument from me.”
“Plus,” Tom fiddled with a piece of grass he had plucked. “Psychologically, that choice of target feels damaging. How would you feel if you weren’t contributing because of these bloody wasps and now, because of that you have a target painted on your back?”
“I wouldn’t feel good.” Everlyn admitted. “I think we can expect an increase in fights. Everyone in the ‘I think I might be targeted next’ group is going to be on powder kegs.” She paused for a moment and leant into him. “But I’m not sure if there is anything that we can do about it.”
“No, there isn’t.” Tom admitted. “I just wish.”
She clicked her fingers abruptly. “No point focusing on stuff we can’t change. What are you doing with your trial prizes?”
“The spell attribute stone is going to low light vision. I know the benefit of boosting that. As for the skill, I was planning on buying the tier zero Spear skill and to assign the stone against that.”
“Why?”
“Partially because Rahmat went through my defences like they weren’t there.”
“You can’t make a choice based on one incident. That makes no sense.”
“I don’t see why not. What happens if instead of it having been a non hostile human that had been a monster. It might have got my neck. I think I need to boost survivability and now I have a weapon the Spear Skill is my best option.”
She bit her lip. “I guess.”
“Also, Skills we practiced in the DEUSs trial are relearned more quickly.”
“I know.”
“Th attribute stone should stack with that.”
“I hate the word should…”
“I’m confident it will stack, which means we can boost one Skill and Spell back to near trial levels of proficiency.”
“We’ll test, anyway?”
“Of course. We’re not going to do all four simultaneously. At most, we’ll waste one of them.”
“Or we could use it on a totally new skill.”
“I’m not.” Tom told her. “They’ll stack. Then its ten levels boosted because we learn them faster, plus the fact I’m using it on low tier abilities should bump them up hopefully past the level thirty two threshold.”
“Acrobatics or stealth? Have you considered them? They also boost survivability.”
Tom laughed. “Not my style. I would prefer to kill stuff rather than to hide or run.”
“And if Spear is level forty, then I’m dangerous, despite my lower rank.”
“Do you think I should do the same?”
Tom shrugged. “It’s really up to you.”
“Bow or axe for skill, probably axe, because that’s more important right now. As for the spell.” She bit her bottom lip, thinking. “I’m guessing something like Distracting Illusion is the biggest bang for money. I managed to get that up to 30 during DEUS’s trial.”
Tom whistled. “I’m assuming that’s not a tier 0.”
She held up two fingers.
“How on earth did you get a tier two support skill so high?”
She laughed. “You’re not the only person smart enough to grind.”
“Hey, that’s not…”
Her hand linked with his. “Shush you, I didn’t mean it like that. But that’s what I did. I recognised the combat utility and ground the skill to get the most of it. Even in fights I didn’t need to, I would use it. Every single fight, no matter how straightforward.”
“You specialised.”
“Of course, I specialised. It was pretty clear a couple of highly refined skills would beat a generalist approach every day. Distracting Illusion was my go-to spell. Unlike some others, I like to plan my battles. Create a strategy execute and walk out uninjured.”
“Was that a dig?”
She smiled. “Maybe.”
“I’m hurt.” Tom pretended to clutch his heart.
“Don’t act like that, Doofus.” She hit him lightly on the arm. “I’ve literally seen you deliberately get stung by thousands of wasps.”
“Really? Doofus.” He managed to only just avoid a quip about her age for using such an outdated term. “I get over one nickname and getting another one just as bad.”
“If you’re only offended because you don’t know the meaning of the word.”
“What? I know what Doofus means.”
“There’s a second meaning. It’s a scientific one. It means knowledgeable one, the common usage one is ironic.”
“Liar.”
“If you don’t believe me, check in a dictionary.”
He burst out laughing. “You’re playing that card. Trust me, it’s in the dictionary and if you don’t trust me, then prove it by checking said dictionary that doesn’t exist anymore.”
She grinned at him and then her face went serious. “I shouldn’t have called you that.” Then she looked around at the camp and he felt her new Party Communication link to him. “But more seriously, I don’t think we should go into our system rooms together unless we have at least two guards. We’re going to have to do this in shifts.”
Tom frowned and then nodded acquiescence. He cleared his throat and began talking out loud. “Go into the system room. I’ll keep guard.”
Her face went slack, and ten minutes later, she opened her eyes.
She grinned cheekily. “Your hypothesis were correct. The growth rates stack. And…”
“And what?”
In his peripheral vision that was movement. Instinctively, he shifted to face whatever was there, pivoting smoothly to his feet. His spear was out between him and the threat.
Electricity crackled over his skin ready to be directed against any threat that might strike from the shadows.
Nothing moved. It was an empty patch of grass set against the shelter. He was not the only one who reacted. Thor, who was on guard duty was on his feet.
Everlyn’s hand tugged on Tom’s pulling him down.
“Who’s there?” A second guard, a mage challenged with a quivering voice.
She pulled more firmly and Tom look down at her.
She winked.
He sat, remembering the skill she was planning on getting. “That’s mean.”
She looked out at where the mage now flanked by Thor and a spear wielder was stalking toward the corner of the shelter.
“I think it was just a quirk of light.” Everlyn called out. “My ranger skills aren’t showing anything.”
They ignored her and advanced. Professionally, they checked the area before giving it the all clear.
“I saw something.” The mage insisted.
“Better safe than sorry,” Thor stated. “But if there’s anything it is long gone now and if Everlyn says there’s nothing, then I trust her.”
Tom knew that it was fake. That the flicker of movement in his peripheral vision had been an illusion, but even a minute later his brain was still insisting it was real. Not for the first time, he admired Everlyn. She was scarily competent. This was another example of the solid choices she had made and continued to make. That sort of ability, one that created a physical and psychic presence was superior to more flashy skills. Used amid battle, it would create openings to be exploited. If you were fighting in melee and there was a flicker of motion on your defended flank, you would have to respond. If the cadence was right, the timing was perfect it would force a reaction to either open them up to a counter or force them to back away when you were in trouble. “Nice Skill,” he whispered.
“It is, but it took a long time to master and I’m not talking about Skill levels. Finding the right moment in battle to use it is the challenge. But when you get the timing perfect it punches way beyond its tier level.” She leant forward and kissed him. “Go upgrade.”
Tom closed his eyes and entered his system space.