A Simple Transaction I

As the offer's content filtered into her mind, Seralize regained consciousness. The last she remembered, the maimed, treacherous swordsman who had slain Beth, who had seemed repentant, had stabbed her through the spine. Had she been saved, somehow? But she could not see, could not smell or hear or touch or taste. She took a moment to process the offer, and noted that she indeed was dead, having been "annihilated beyond the possibility of resurrection." What of Ber, then? Beth was dead, she had seen her die, but perhaps Ber remained, and with him some hope for Esterarc. She cared not for the mercenaries, greedy creatures that they were, but she dearly hoped Ber had lived. The Blue Swordsman was a strange man, muttering to himself often and referring to "patterns," "mobs," "bosses," "phases," and "systems," but a beloved ally nonetheless, who had helped her slay her tyrannical father and end his reign over Esterarc. Perhaps he had received an offer from a "system" such as this? Plausible, but no matter; it would be a long time before she would if ever see him again.

The offer was not mandatory, but how could she do anything but accept? Perhaps if she had died old and decrepit, a natural life, she would have selected oblivion and rest. But having died unresigned, apparently to a Cursebearer herself—who must have been that treacherous swordsman—how could she abandon Esterarc, abandon her royal duty? The Blessing of Duty would let her combat more of the evil Cursebearers like "Lord Hunger," prevent more tragedies, and at the same time, allow her to return to her duties in Esterarc. This offer was one she could not deny; even if she wished to, how irresponsible would it be to do so? And she wished to obtain power, protect Esterarc, slay Hunger and avenge Beth, prevent such tragedies as had happened to her. So, she accepted the offer, and her eyes opened once more, to the empty void.

She inspected herself. Her skin was unmarred by the fatal strike—in fact, she lacked any of the tiny scars accumulated over the revolutionary campaign. None of the toned muscle that she had built up remained, and when she tried to call upon the Purple, that amaranthine reserve within herself, only the faintest ember still smoldered. She would need to reaccumulate the power she had lost. But the tutorial came first.

"System, I wish to start the tutorial!" she called out, and a booklet plopped into existence before her. She picked it up. "DUTY SYSTEM™ MARKETPLACE CATALOG," it read, and a bland, androgynous voice began to speak.

"The Duty System™ Marketplace is the interface through which Duty System™ hosts can spend their accrued points for goods. Since the inventory of goods is so massive, the catalog is provided as a complimentary service so that hosts can more easily select their desired goods. It offers an easy to use search function. To use it, simply open the booklet and speak out the desired search terms. For example, you could search for 'life-preservation' to find life-preservation related powers and artifacts, such as high-speed regeneration and elixirs of restoration, as well as the much-desired opportunities to escape the task world before task completion or failure. Multiple search terms can be combined. The terms 'fire' and 'sword' would find primarily artifact blades with fire-related enhancements, as well as powers enabling the manifestation of flame swords. For now, please search the term 'starter pack' to find your starter pack offer."

Seralize followed the instructions, opening the booklet and saying "Starter Pack." The booklet proceeded to blur, until it finally settled into one page between the covers, containing the advertised starter pack offer. The voice continued.

"To purchase an item, please tear out the corresponding page of the booklet, and if you have sufficient points, it will instantly be delivered to you. One hundred points have already been credited to your balance, and you may access this balance at any time on the back cover of the catalog."

Seralize turned the booklet over and saw "100 points". She then ripped out the page as instructed.

"Congratulations! You have successfully purchased your starter pack and completed the Duty System™ Marketplace introductory content. Please roll your random power."

A machine containing glowing capsules slammed down before her, with an obvious lever. She pulled it, and out rolled a capsule which she cracked open. Power rushed into her, and she didn't even notice when the machine vanished before her, too enraptured by the rush of it.

"Your existing power 'Color Magic' has been boosted one step beyond your previous achievements. Please enter the failed task world now. The failed task world will not pose a threat to your wellbeing and is simply to help you understand how important the goal of the system is."



Seralize found herself in a glade surrounded by humans with long, pointed ears, blonde of hair and blue of eyes, concernedly questioning her well-being. For some reason, she could understand them; the System's beneficence? It seemed likely. "Are you alright? Who are you? Where did you come from? You appeared out of nowhere about an hour ago, unconscious, and you only woke now."

Blearily she blinked and responded. "I'm not wounded, though I am hungry. I'm not sure where I came from or how to return. Where am I?" As she said it, she flinched minutely, reminded once more of her death by Hunger's hands. Those surrounding her noticed and began questioning again if she was really fine, but eventually her assurances satisfied them and they brought her to a house for guests, where all but one left. Food had been prepared within, and the woman gestured that Seralize sit and eat.

"You are now within the Isle of the Elves, and as a guest, we elves will fulfill your every need until you find a way to return home. I am Neia. I will be your guide during this time. This guesthouse has been prepared for you to use during your stay, and I hope you find it satisfactory. Please tell me if you need anything else, and I will try to find it as soon as possible." So they were not humans? It wasn't too absurd, she supposed, for another humanoid race to exist, especially since this was not her previous world.

"No, I think this should be fine for now, thank you." Dismissing her, Seralize began to eat ravenously, the already superb meal enhanced further by the novelty of her new body's tongue and the emptiness of her stomach. Simple fare, breads and vegetables and cheeses, but their quality was excellent and she rapidly polished off the plate. Dining complete, she began to inspect the house to find the bedroom, and slipping underneath the covers, went to sleep.

The Blessing of Duty System™ is a construct generated to oppose the evil entities known as "Geas of Indenture Cursebearers," who are tasked by their Accursed master to slaughter heroes and conquer across the myriad worlds. Upon selection and acceptance of the offer, a Duty System™ host will be transported to the nearest system hub to go through the tutorial, consisting of one (1) introduction to the Duty System Marketplace™, one hundred (100) system points which will be used to purchase their starter pack, and one (1) failed task world entry.

Every Duty System™ host must take at least one (1) successful task per standard year that they live out in their native world, calculated from the time of binding, though hosts may elect to take more tasks. Every task has two (2) objectives. The primary objective is to stop the enemy Cursebearer from completing their fell mission; the secondary objective is to impair their future ability to complete such missions in as permanent a manner as possible. Completion of the primary objective constitutes complete mission success, while completion of the secondary objective, in lieu of the primary objective, will garner a quantity of points corresponding to the reduction in capabilities of the Cursebearer. For example, sealing the Cursebearer away and stopping them from productively training for the duration of a hundred years might not garner a billionth of the points rewarded for near-annihilation of the Cursebearer.

Task length ranges heavily; tasks will not end so long as the opposing Cursebearer is capable of completing their nefarious objectives. Thus, the opposing Cursebearer must be annihilated beyond the possibility of resurrection to end the task before the duration is up.

The rewards available in the Duty System™ Marketplace include but are not limited to the majority of things imaginable by finite-time beings. Most relevant to a new system host are the items included in the newbie pack: nine (9) opportunities to escape a task world before the task duration ends, one (1) roll of the "suitable superpower" gachapon, which will randomly generate a power of modest strength relative to and suitable for the system host, one (1) relevant artifact of the host's choice costing under 100 points, one (1) basic set of mundane equipment, and one (1) extra life, which will resurrect the host upon their annihilation beyond the possibility of resurrection. The first two would usually cost a massive number of points scaling to the existential weight of the host, while the last is not even normally purchasable, so this pack is an absolute steal!

Take your time to consider, as your return to your initial world will occur one (1) year after this offer in that world's time, after you have completed at least one (1) successful task, regardless of the time you spend doing so. In your case, since you have already been annihilated beyond the possibility of resurrection by the Geas of Indenture Cursebearer known as Lord Hunger, your starter pack's extra life will be consumed immediately. The Duty System™ wishes you success in your duties!



As the offer's content filtered into her mind, Seralize regained consciousness. The last she remembered, the maimed, treacherous swordsman who had slain Beth, who had seemed repentant, had stabbed her through the spine. Had she been saved, somehow? But she could not see, could not smell or hear or touch or taste. She took a moment to process the offer, and noted that she indeed was dead, having been "annihilated beyond the possibility of resurrection." What of Ber, then? Beth was dead, she had seen her die, but perhaps Ber remained, and with him some hope for Esterarc. She cared not for the mercenaries, greedy creatures that they were, but she dearly hoped Ber had lived. The Blue Swordsman was a strange man, muttering to himself often and referring to "patterns," "mobs," "bosses," "phases," and "systems," but a beloved ally nonetheless, who had helped her slay her tyrannical father and end his reign over Esterarc. Perhaps he had received an offer from a "system" such as this? Plausible, but no matter; it would be a long time before she would if ever see him again.

The offer was not mandatory, but how could she do anything but accept? Perhaps if she had died old and decrepit, a natural life, she would have selected oblivion and rest. But having died unresigned, apparently to a Cursebearer herself—who must have been that treacherous swordsman—how could she abandon Esterarc, abandon her royal duty? The Blessing of Duty would let her combat more of the evil Cursebearers like "Lord Hunger," prevent more tragedies, and at the same time, allow her to return to her duties in Esterarc. This offer was one she could not deny; even if she wished to, how irresponsible would it be to do so? And she wished to obtain power, protect Esterarc, slay Hunger and avenge Beth, prevent such tragedies as had happened to her. So, she accepted the offer, and her eyes opened once more, to the empty void.

She inspected herself. Her skin was unmarred by the fatal strike—in fact, she lacked any of the tiny scars accumulated over the revolutionary campaign. None of the toned muscle that she had built up remained, and when she tried to call upon the Purple, that amaranthine reserve within herself, only the faintest ember still smoldered. She would need to reaccumulate the power she had lost. But the tutorial came first.

"System, I wish to start the tutorial!" she called out, and a booklet plopped into existence before her. She picked it up. "DUTY SYSTEM™ MARKETPLACE CATALOG," it read, and a bland, androgynous voice began to speak.

"The Duty System™ Marketplace is the interface through which Duty System™ hosts can spend their accrued points for goods. Since the inventory of goods is so massive, the catalog is provided as a complimentary service so that hosts can more easily select their desired goods. It offers an easy to use search function. To use it, simply open the booklet and speak out the desired search terms. For example, you could search for 'life-preservation' to find life-preservation related powers and artifacts, such as high-speed regeneration and elixirs of restoration, as well as the much-desired opportunities to escape the task world before task completion or failure. Multiple search terms can be combined. The terms 'fire' and 'sword' would find primarily artifact blades with fire-related enhancements, as well as powers enabling the manifestation of flame swords. For now, please search the term 'starter pack' to find your starter pack offer."

Seralize followed the instructions, opening the booklet and saying "Starter Pack." The booklet proceeded to blur, until it finally settled into one page between the covers, containing the advertised starter pack offer. The voice continued.

"To purchase an item, please tear out the corresponding page of the booklet, and if you have sufficient points, it will instantly be delivered to you. One hundred points have already been credited to your balance, and you may access this balance at any time on the back cover of the catalog."

Seralize turned the booklet over and saw "100 points". She then ripped out the page as instructed.

"Congratulations! You have successfully purchased your starter pack and completed the Duty System™ Marketplace introductory content. Please roll your random power."

A machine containing glowing capsules slammed down before her, with an obvious lever. She pulled it, and out rolled a capsule which she cracked open. Power rushed into her, and she didn't even notice when the machine vanished before her, too enraptured by the rush of it.

"Your existing power 'Color Magic' has been boosted one step beyond your previous achievements. Please enter the failed task world now. The failed task world will not pose a threat to your wellbeing and is simply to help you understand how important the goal of the system is."



Seralize found herself in a glade surrounded by humans with long, pointed ears, blonde of hair and blue of eyes, concernedly questioning her well-being. For some reason, she could understand them; the System's beneficence? It seemed likely. "Are you alright? Who are you? Where did you come from? You appeared out of nowhere about an hour ago, unconscious, and you only woke now."

Blearily she blinked and responded. "I'm not wounded, though I am hungry. I'm not sure where I came from or how to return. Where am I?" As she said it, she flinched minutely, reminded once more of her death by Hunger's hands. Those surrounding her noticed and began questioning again if she was really fine, but eventually her assurances satisfied them and they brought her to a house for guests, where all but one left. Food had been prepared within, and the woman gestured that Seralize sit and eat.

"You are now within the Isle of the Elves, and as a guest, we elves will fulfill your every need until you find a way to return home. I am Neia. I will be your guide during this time. This guesthouse has been prepared for you to use during your stay, and I hope you find it satisfactory. Please tell me if you need anything else, and I will try to find it as soon as possible." So they were not humans? It wasn't too absurd, she supposed, for another humanoid race to exist, especially since this was not her previous world.

"No, I think this should be fine for now, thank you." Dismissing her, Seralize began to eat ravenously, the already superb meal enhanced further by the novelty of her new body's tongue and the emptiness of her stomach. Simple fare, breads and vegetables and cheeses, but their quality was excellent and she rapidly polished off the plate. Dining complete, she began to inspect the house to find the bedroom, and slipping underneath the covers, went to sleep.

Birdsie said:

It's power creep, like what Kishimoto did. Simplistic, but largely frequent Chidori and Shurikenjutsu were in vogue back then, but nowadays it's just me and Bard tossing S-Rank meteors at each other at sub-relativistic speeds with larger reprieves between strikes in order to accumulate more chakra. I have the Eternal Mangekyou Omakegan, for instance, which hasn't occurred before: this is evidence that we're now in Shippudden.

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Of course it's Shippudden: you're fighting me with city-level ninjutsu and I'm fighting you with endless flashbacks!

Haha, get it, because-

Birdsie said:

Naturally, since my reserves and control are much better than his own and I'm willing to use Forbidden Technique: All-Nighter to enhance them even more, he stands absolutely no chance. I will vanquish him and then rule this Rihaku World! Until Kaguya Rihaku spears me through the heart.

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Your Forbidden Technique: All-Nighter is no match for the enduring protection of my Yin Art: 9:30 PM Bedtime! Clearly, since your judgement has degenerated into the self-punishing territory of frame-by-frame MSPaint anime opening replication, jesus.

Hmph, foolish. I can see that you're thinking, "The only one who can kill me is Rihaku."

How naive. Your hubris will be your-wait, hold on a

Birdsie said:

Reactions are scraping the bottom of the barrel. You'd stoop so low as to use such basic techniques when I am giving it my all? You disgust me, Bard! I will destroy you with my Omakegan! Behold its power! Even now, I have already countered each of your words, and I will continue to do so - and not only that, but I will utilize interesting trivia, facts, argumentation, as well as answer your questions in ways pertinent to the actual post, therefore validating it as a reaction-reaction! You are doomed!

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Your omakegan's power is shallow reproduction of form, Madara Birdsie. You merely replicate the surface appearance of a reaction, but cannot capture the true essence of generating worthless content from nothing-hold on, that's not what I meant to say, something is-!

Birdsie said:

Friend Inserts, oddly enough, are one of my favorite things to write, on either side. Gabriel and I have already created several (and completed one), and I can link some of them to you if you're interested.

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Sure! I can't promise that I'll read them, since I'm leery of fanfiction for series I haven't gone through myself, but I've liked what you've done with your thread omakes so far, and frankly I read easily 100,000 words a day online without a problem, so high wordcounts is not a devastating barrier.

Birdsie said:

I think that I'd make a pretty... passable Cursebearer, although I definitely wouldn't be happy about it. If the Accursed appeared to me out of nowhere, I'd consider for a very long time and probably, ultimately, refuse. Unless the selection of curses was so merciful as to be on par with Seram's, in which case I'd consider more strongly and maybe accept.

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Birdsie said:

Also, there were no hypothetical build votes because I wasn't savvy enough back then to realize how trendy those would be. I have grown, Bard! I have attained a state far beyond Titanhood, above the 26th Ordinal! You cannot defeat me, because the concept of defeat does not apply, etc, etc, [anti-hero ramblings]!

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Just you couldn't anticipate the popularity of hypothetical build votes, you couldn't anticipate the unmitigated power of my Reaction Reaction Reaction!

AHAHAHAHAHAH- stop, stop. Something is seriously wrong. What...?

Birdsie said:

Pentex essentially draws on elements from the user's environment and lets them recombine those elements into spells. It channels solid reality into Platonic abstrata that can be used to channel solid reality. In the hands of a particularly smart caster, this might be used to create minor feedback loops, but even then, Pentex spells are incredibly limited and weak. Even a pretty good spell would only be worth a 3rd-Level D&D Wizard spell, if that. Most of them would be on the level of cantrips.

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Well, those restrictions do put paid to using it for anything too terribly complex or involving structure. I guess it's useful as a way to accumulate incidental power, rather than on the level of something like Surgecraft okay, what is going on? What is happening here? This is really interfering with my ability to gather omake power. Is something wrong with my Forbidden Technique?

Birdsie said:

Are you trying to become a curse of your own, Bard-kun?

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ALL SHALL LOVE ME AND DESPAIR

Birdsie said:

I do not remember anything like that, but your description has piqued my curiosity significantly. What is it?

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I did some digging, and it turns out that it's "The Whispering Earring", by Scott Alexander! I really recommend it. Yes, I know that he's the Star Slate Codex guy, just try to look past that. Oh, we're back to this, huh? Let me just see if I can....

Birdsie said:

The Ring's an excellent trainer because it teaches through Pavlovian conditioning, so it understands the value of a carrot and stick approach. Furthermore, it's not like it can argue for him to summon ingredients from thin air, and leaving the house while Prolessarch is out might be a risky proposition. You can't know what kind of threats lurk out there, in the Italian countryside!

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Wow, who do you think you are with that sort of statement, Shadenight?

OKAY.

Birdsie said:

Hmph. You'll lose anyway. Such arrogance is unbefitting someone who lags several thousand words behind! I will match everything you write, word for word, then surpass you!

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Me, lagging behind you? I think you'll find that it's you who is lagging behind me!

OH. OH MY GOD. I UNDERSTAND.

I WAS SUCH A FOOL.

Birdsie said:

Stats for Nerds

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So, in other words, "the good stuff". It'll be helpful to get a decent peek at the way stats are supposed to function in this hybrid-verse system. I can recall several AST discord conversations in the past, most recently regarding Charisma, where we discussed the applicability of "stats" as a concept and how they might meaningfully map onto actual capabilities. Usually this ends in a lot of reframing the meanings of various things, as well as the point that you can't effectively capture wide capabilities with a single numerical value in the real world.

Though it's still helpful for abstracted roleplay systems and fiction!

Birdsie said:

Kazuma was pretty sure that human attributes couldn't be quantified with numerical values.

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Ah yes, my two great loves: arguing with people, and agreeing with them. I think this is the second time I've called something right before it happened, and it's always a good feeling.

Birdsie said:

Even normal spells would have been fine in Kazuma's book. He was eager to learn magic and see what he could do with it. The choice of wizardry combined the paths of devastating potential and tremendous variety, and the Arch Wizard was its pinnacle. It would be the most prudent choice as a Cursebearer in a dangerous fantasy world.

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I'm surprised that there are only two class grades? Since the whole system scales up endlessly based on spiritual perfection, you would think that there would either be ever-higher tiers of Wizardly class refinement, or there would just be "base" classes. Maybe Kazuma is just wrong? Or I guess it could be that the non-unique classes are hardcoded into the system to stabilize it somewhat, and the real endless improvement is locked behind acquiring ever-greater Unique Classes to build from. Not that a a super-archmagi Unique Class is anywhere near as attractive as taking Cursebearer and aiming directly at The Praxis instead, since that is going to scale way better over the very long term than iterating on typical magic. The best path might actually be Archmagi -> Fateweaver (to take care of a bunch of stages of Misfortune -> Cursebearer.

Birdsie said:

Even Kyouya seemed to be stunned to the point of silence, which Kazuma wore as a badge of pride - a suit of armor, a sword, and a bevy of followers meant he was no novice. His dumbfounded incomprehension was like a compliment on Kazuma's sartorial skills coming from a fashion designer in France.

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Er, Kazuma, it's more an endorsement of the least of The Accursed's ability to empower you, since these aren't stats you grinded for. Just...just save the pride for once you inevitably earn it, okay? Let Aqua take up all the self-aggrandizement in the room: she's good at it!

Birdsie said:

The Cursebearer and Fateweaver jobs both interested him, but he wasn't completely willing to entertain an unknown due to a simple temptation of additional power. Especially when his supernatural luck was fading like the last scraps of heat in autumn before winter descended.

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He'd better hustle over to Wiz's place right after this. I mean, Luna or someone will probably recommend Wiz as a good place to get magic items/as someone who knows about magic classes and how to use them, since I can't see how else he would know to go specifically to meet her? Obviously we, as the voters, have meta-knowledge and know how to pilot Kazuma around, but in-character he doesn't know any of these people and so can't be expected to seek them out specifically. I guess for this update, we were more piloting Fortune's Smile than Kazuma himself.

Birdsie said:

Not only does he have Skill Points to start with, but how many!

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Oh boy oh golly, back to my favorite: build votes!

The stats are interesting, too, I see that there are END/CON and AGI/DEX separations, unlike in Rihaku's system. And WIS is subsumed by INT/WITS while Magic Power is separated out. The stat scaling is interestingly different too, since it's clearly not linear whatsoever. Do the stats scale nonlinearly in the same way that Class Levels do?

Seems like Kazuma is basically peak human everywhere except for Constitution, which is annoying but not a terrible setback if he picks the right advancements early on and makes sure to keep Aqua around and attentive to the...uh, status of his mortality.

Birdsie said:

Kazuma can spend his accumulated Skill Points through a variety of means.

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Spending Skill points on attributes seems foolish, when Kazuma is already generally peak human, has Aqua to cast buffs, and attributes are easier for Progression-types to acquire than powerful capabilities.

I bet Advanced Magic is really good, but it's not so necessary right now with the tier of opponents Kazuma will be facing, as well as the amount of destructive power packed into the Basic and Intermediate Magics. Plus, Kazuma is a Progression-type, so skill points should really be no problem to get more of. Better to have some more power right now to fight monsters more safely, instead of waiting for the introduction of even more new capabilities.

13 to spend, huh.

Well, Counterspell is necessary as a magic defense and has high general utility, and will prevent Misfortune from popping him with a poorly aimed proc of Doom of the Megumin. And Counter magic is likely to be important along that front as well.

Basic Illusion seems really strong, since it's extreme adaptable and is easy bait for exploiting enemies.

Teleport is really good for running away, as well as an efficient way to do transportation, but I think that it can honestly wait a bit.

Unlock/Lock seems pointless for now, since it won't stop the door being busted in. In the long run, Seal/Unseal can probably be handled by Aqua, right? And maybe Animate Item can be used for disposable golems or something. But it doesn't seem necessary for now. Oh my god, is Brand of the Wretched going to be the thing that saves Aqua and Kazuma's obviously top-tier party from being mobbed with applicants? Two companions starting off as an Arch Wizard and Arch Priestess, plus whatever fuckery of a Unique Class gets offered to Subaru....

Paralyze is incredibly strong, though I suppose it's one of those yay/nay things that depends on the target's Magic Resistance. Sleep is even more incredible. Both of them are instant, nonlethal wins against living things, so long as their Magic Resistance isn't high.

Upgrading is a cool mechanic. It's good to see what we might unlock from upgrading the stuff we already have, as well as to note that magic tutoring can accomplish upgrade unlocks just as well as skill points can.

Okay, here's my build:

Counterspell (2)
Upgrade: Counterspell (1)
Basic Illusion (2)
Paralyze (4)
Upgrade: Paralyze (2)
Upgrade: Mold Earth (2)

Countermagic for Megumin, as an investment in future magical combat and adventuring, and to prevent Kazuma from being ganked by cheap tricks like Paralyze.

Basic Illusion for trickery and strategy, since it covers sensory input from any two sense, which is nuts because the material senses that animals have cover way more breadth and depth than what most people think of for the basic five. Like, yeah, sure, there's sight and hearing and touch and smell and taste. But there's also temperature and pressure and itching and vibrations and balance and pain and hunger/thirst and the feeling of time passing and spatial limb awareness. A great intimidation trick is probably to cast basic illusion on someone and crank up their sense of pressure and make them feel heat all over their body. Itching is also a great way to get someone in the middle of combat: just make their nose itch terribly and they lose a bunch of mental focus with no effort!

Paralyze and upgraded paralyze because it's an instant nonlethal win against anything and anyone that is both alive and doesn't have high enough magic resistance, which takes the majority of foes out of the running.

Mold Earth upgrade because you are all sleeping on how good Mold Earth can be. Let me write out a casual list of things that immediately come to mind:

Quickly and easily create a hole/tunnel: to trap enemies, to jump down into for cover from attacks, to create an impromptu latrine, to bury a body, to hide evidence/food/resources, to create a protected campfire, to create a temporary dwelling, to burrow around or through obstacles, to collapse buildings, to mine for ore.

Create pillars of earth: to stab/launch/knock out enemies, to lock enemies to the ground, to construct impromptu palisades or ramparts or Ringforts or other fortifications, to create semi-permanent buildings, to cross rivers and chasms safely, to block attacks, to launch rocks as attacks, to lift heavy objects and clear pathways, to explore natural areas without climbing/ to make climbing worse than vertical surfaces easy, to pull up clay for potters and push up while trees for loggers or carpenters.

Change the surface of the earth: by flattening it and changing the texture to gritty in order to run faster, by unbalancing or harming enemies with smoothness or shifting or gopher holes or caltrops, to make it easier to rock climb or climb steep hills or navigate treacherous terrain, to make it impossible to track you, to slow enemies in sudden sucking mud or sand or quicksand, to create sloped ground, to quickly smother fire, to make a hardened container for liquid, (with Fire) create and flash-bake clay in various shapes.

In general: to create temporary crude weapons or armor, to create softened beds of earth, to catch game for food, to solidify and fortify a place to sleep, to set up warning traps against monsters, to drop big domino slabs on squishy monsters, to crush limbs, to stabilize against natural disasters and speed up recovery efforts, to command the whole shape of the battlefield, potentially to have tremor sense, to call up blasts of sand and waves of mud, or sandstorms, to help at every stage of crop management and farming, to enhance stealth and evasion with Earthswimming techniques, to destabilize groups of enemies with minor quakes, etc.

It's basically a free win against any landbound opponent so long as you have enough mana and can think creatively enough. Most people and monsters are not strong enough to maneuver through the air using brute strength, so even if you get something that can smash steel with it's bare hands, you can just drop it into a pool of instant quicksand or a very, very deep and smooth hole and just call it a day.

I know that the current Mold Earth and the Upgraded Mold Earth are likely to not be anywhere near to the level that I'm describing. But the basic capability to sculpt earth is really powerful, and with Progression I'm sure that Kazuma will be able to learn to do it quickly and easily in a relatively short time!

Birdsie said:

Aqua is going to agree to aid Kazuma in mitigation once he tells her about his curses, by applying a complicated and long treatment of repeated, magnified castings of Sacred Dispel, Sacred Curse Break, Sacred Blessing, and similar procedures. This will leave her somewhat exhausted for a time; she may demand a foot massage as repayment.

What should Aqua focus on? Select one Mitigation vector per curse. Kazuma is unlikely to get even partial mitigation for months afterward, so make sure you choose wisely.

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Hmm, many of these potential mitigations look...familiar. : )

The Doom/Geas of Incompetence is easy, since Twinned Fate is so much better than the others when we already have such a perfect Target in Aqua. It's potential resurrection! Need I say more!

Curse of Misfortune Direct Mitigation is the real path to High Cursebearer Kazuma, considering the utterly disgusting natural Luck advantage. That said, if the plan is to eventually go for Fateweaver to power through a bunch more mitigation in way too short of a time, then it's probably better to take Rewire now and then a bunch of sequential Direct Mitigation with Fateweaver, since Rewire translates potentially fatal or awful procs into unpleasant but entirely bearable ones. Twofold Fortune is shiny, but entirely fails to deal with the base problems of the Curse and shouldn't be taken.

Brand of the Wretched is another hard one. If it's a matter of survival over pleasure, then I think Rihaku has the right of it to choose Factional: The Powerful, since that has a disproportionate effect on the Curse's lethality. Further procs can go to Direct Mitigation or further valuable Factional mitigation (Adventurers, Heroes, Merchants, Cursebearers, etc.).

Affliction of Slumber is a no-brainer for direct mitigation. Two less hours of sleep a day is just too much better than a little bit of sleep forgiveness.

Wordcount: ~4500.

I will gladly react to the other omake that people have been posting as well, but I need a screen break and will post it tonight instead!

Merry Halloween, kids, and a joyous Arete to you all!

DarkSideBard said:

Your Forbidden Technique: All-Nighter is no match for my the enduring protection of my Yin Art: 9:30 PM Bedtime! Clearly, since your judgement has degenerated into the self-punishing territory of frame-by-frame MSPaint anime opening replication, jesus.

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Hmph. Fool! Such sacrifices are necessary in order to create a better, happier world. I will resist Rihaku's cruel system!

The Infinite Omake Storm will continue, and my Infinite Fanworkyomi will keep reincarnating alongside us each vote in order to ensure a better world! That is my Writer Way! With it, I conquer this thread and declare this vote to be mine! The Konosuba Subquest, the Parodies, the Thematic Curse Blurbs! All of it, from start to end, was my attempt at creating a better world, one where everyone can be happy!

Why do you resist!? [strikes]

DarkSideBard said:

Your omakegan's power is shallow reproduction of form, Madara Birdsie. You merely replicate the surface appearance of a reaction, but cannot capture the true essence of generating worthless content from nothing-hold on, that's not what I meant to say, something is-!

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Hah! Having issues generating high-quality content, Hashirama Bard? That would be the shitpost poisoning that you're experiencing! It is scrambling your very Discussion Coils as we speak! Soon enough, you will be dead, and I will become the uncontested King of this Thread! And then, Infinite Fanworkyomi shall reign supreme for a thousand pages! Nothing will ever stand in my way, ever again! Not you, and certainly not your Prose Release: CYOA Transformation!

I don't actually know what's happening. I'm guessing this is going to lead to something more.

My Omakegan replicates everything it sees, and then, I alone make it even better! I surpass and take you down! That is the power of the Omakegan!

DarkSideBard said:

Sure! I can't promise that I'll read them, since I'm leery of fanfiction for series I haven't gone through myself, but I've liked what you've done with your thread omakes so far, and frankly I read easily 100,000 words a day online without a problem, so high wordcounts is not a devastating barrier.

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Good! You'll need nothing less than true and utter diligence in order to read the great works that my Omakegan outputs!

DarkSideBard said:

In America, for example, there isn't a collective belief in the right to health or healthcare, so people die while rationing insulin or choose not to undergo life-saving surgery to keep their families from taking on an unpayable debt that squashes generations of wealth accumulation.

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I am not American so I wouldn't know how that feels. We have free healthcare over here, pretty much. It's even better if you have good insurance.

DarkSideBard said:

Anyways, that's my whole ethics rant. Ghosts cleaned out, now I don't have to think about morality for another 6 months.

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An interesting speech on modern ethics and how they relate to being a Cursebearer. Of course, its contents won't save you. My Omakegan allows me unsurpassed reactionary power. There is nothing you can do in order to stop me. This post of yours has a meager and pathetic wordcount of around 5k. I will not only surpass everything about it, but then I'll also destroy the original! There will be nothing but Fanworkyomi!

As for the Accursed's offer, I'm not sure. I guess if he doesn't offer his transaction to people who won't accept it, I'm rather unlikely to get one anytime in the future. Maybe when the time is right, and I've changed a little, it'll be a possible. On that day, I'll bear his Curse against reality, and all realities to follow!

DarkSideBard said:

Just you couldn't anticipate the popularity of hypothetical build votes, you couldn't anticipate the unmitigated power of my Reaction Reaction Reaction!

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Don't worry, Bard. I'll counter it soon enough. My superior wordcount will swallow yours! This may be a long analysis on ethics you have made, but I've got big things coming in the future! You are nothing but a temporal obstacle, something that I shall leap over in order to grasp the stars in my hand!

DarkSideBard said:

I did some digging, and it turns out that it's "The Whispering Earring", by Scott Alexander! I really recommend it. Yes, I know that he's the Star Slate Codex guy, just try to look past that. Oh, we're back to this, huh? Let me just see if I can....

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Thanks! I'll be sure to look it up after I'm done obliterating you. It ought to be a good time for all.

DarkSideBard said:

can recall several AST discord conversations in the past, most recently regarding Charisma, where we discussed the applicability of "stats" as a concept and how they might meaningfully map onto actual capabilities. Usually this ends in a lot of reframing the meanings of various things, as well as the point that you can't effectively capture wide capabilities with a single numerical value in the real world.

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It's funny to think that this is literally what I started off the entire chapter with; Kazuma considering how abstract numbers can translate into real power, and how contradictory that idea is when applied into domains of the body which remain separate.

I guess we'll see what you think about it?

DarkSideBard said:

I'm surprised that there are only two class grades? Since the whole system scales up endlessly based on spiritual perfection, you would think that there would either be ever-higher tiers of Wizardly class refinement, or there would just be "base" classes. Maybe Kazuma is just wrong? Or I guess it could be that the non-unique classes are hardcoded into the system to stabilize it somewhat, and the real endless improvement is locked behind acquiring ever-greater Unique Classes to build from. Not that a a super-archmagi Unique Class is anywhere near as attractive as taking Cursebearer and aiming directly at The Praxis instead, since that is going to scale way better over the very long term than iterating on typical magic. The best path might actually be Archmagi -> Fateweaver (to take care of a bunch of stages of Misfortune -> Cursebearer.

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You're not exactly wrong in this assumption, but every system has its limits. It's the Cursebearer's remit To Shatter Heaven and, alongside with it, also those limits, but destroying limits isn't the same as them not existing.

So yeah, there's only three levels of power: common, uncommon, and unique. Peasant, aristocrat, and god.

DarkSideBard said:

He'd better hustle over to Wiz's place right after this. I mean, Luna or someone will probably recommend Wiz as a good place to get magic items/as someone who knows about magic classes and how to use them, since I can't see how else he would know to go specifically to meet her?

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He's already met her, don't worry. It just wasn't mentioned outright because Kazuma doesn't see Wiz as more important than any given shopkeeper right now. It was different in canon because there, he met Wiz under much different circumstances.

Also, anyone recommending Kazuma goes to Wiz's Magic Shop is clearly an enemy who wishes him nothing but death, pain, and torment, and should be approached cautiously at the very least!

DarkSideBard said:

The stats are interesting, too, I see that there are END/CON and AGI/DEX separations, unlike in Rihaku's system. And WIS is subsumed by INT/WITS while Magic Power is separated out. The stat scaling is interestingly different too, since it's clearly not linear whatsoever. Do the stats scale nonlinearly in the same way that Class Levels do?

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Yup! I did mention it'd be a mix of Rihaku system and classic Konosuba. This new brew aims to combine them both with some degree of fidelity. Also, yes, it's definitely not linear; attributes increase per level (especially Favored Attributes,) and you level up much slower with each level, so the statistics themselves gain more puissance with every point over time. If you ever get Might to 500, they might as well call you One Punch Man.

DarkSideBard said:

Basic Illusion seems really strong, since it's extreme adaptable and is easy bait for exploiting enemies.

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Indeed it is! With enough Magic Power and upgrades, you could even use it to make illusionary clones!

DarkSideBard said:

Counterspell (2)
Upgrade: Counterspell (1)
Basic Illusion (2)
Paralyze (4)
Upgrade: Paralyze (2)
Upgrade: Mold Earth (2)

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DarkSideBard said:

I know that the current Mold Earth and the Upgraded Mold Earth are likely to not be anywhere near to the level that I'm describing. But the basic capability to sculpt earth is really powerful, and with Progression I'm sure that Kazuma will be able to learn to do it quickly and easily in a relatively short time!

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A very interesting and prudent trickster build! Upgrading Mold Earth is a good idea, it's a very powerful spell that Kazuma is likely to use a whole lot.

The next three mornings, noons, and evenings passed by in an onslaught of brutal training.

From the moment of awakening, as soon as Gabriel finished breakfast, he would breathe, meditate, and toil upon the undertaking of personal growth.

The Ring of Prowess was a stone-hearted coach. It cared not for flesh, or for its weakness, and desired nothing but stringent devotion to self-improvement from the user.

Gabriel diligently repeated the kata of Step-Motion, learning how to channel his breath and twist the punch at its apex to deliver enough force to shatter a wooden log with a mere tap of his fist's tip.

There was an impossible, mystical force permeating his limbs whenever he struck, and soon enough, he felt that he might be able to extend it past even his fists. It was a surreal sensation.

Disconcerting was the fact that for all of those days, Gabriel's parents not once came home. There was a phone call from his father, who mentioned there was a bad storm in Milan. It was apparently so encompassing and destructive they needed to stay in the city. Prolessarch theorized it was one of the early portents of their dark future, the coming of magic and the unfortunate implications contained therein.

The Apocryphal Curse was beginning to do its job, apparently.

Gabriel feared what was to come, anxiety riddling his resolve like a barrel with holes. But he had to be strong, fill up his reserves of willpower, for he needed to protect what he loved if he wanted to live with himself.

If he failed to stand up to the Apocryphal Curse, then it'd kill everything he loved, and then it would kill him as a finisher. There was no way to make it stop, and the Curse wouldn't tolerate begging. The only real way to stop it was to fight against it whenever it reared its ugly head.

Since the Cursebearer and his Archwizard companion needed to now be on constant watch for an extralegal agency of supernatural hunters that had sizable and threatening resources to call on - the Prolessarch mentioned a convoy of armored minivans and said something about a rotary cannon and APDS ammunition - they conscripted some of Gabriel's friends in the quest for obtaining more books for the Prolessarch. None of them questioned it much, accepting the falsehood of Gabriel's sickness to the virus, while Prolessarch disguised himself as one of Gabriel's parents when accepting the books. It was a perfect cover-up.

The undead Archwizard, for better or for worse, consumed literature at a world-shattering rate of one page for every second and became bored if not provided with something else to occupy him. The lich claimed modern television was 'too slow' for him, so that wasn't a solution. Getting into cooking as a hobby was difficult as the lich's physical manifestation did not possess tastebuds, although Prolessarch remarked he could make some with time.

Once Prolessarch finished reading through the contents of Gabriel's mind for the key foundational details of the magic he'd been provided with, the lich grabbed a spare notebook, borrowed a pencil, and started to jot down elucidating insights. He used one foundation to develop another, and claimed that he would have the materials necessary to initiate Gabriel into the so-called magic of Surgecraft in only another day.

"Prolessarch?" Gabriel called out, as he walked out of the bathroom with a yellow bathrobe on, drying his hair off with a big towel.

"Mm?" The lich didn't look up from the couch, where he was midway through the notebook. Not once did he look as if he struggled to come up with some breakthrough to keep working. For as long as that notebook was in his hand, Prolessarch kept writing in it, as if his hands needed to catch up to the brilliance of his mind.

Gabriel breathed in. He had been thinking of something, as of late, a way to circumvent the worst consequence of Gabriel's curses. If the most important people in his life were to come in harm's way, Gabriel absolutely wanted them to stay safe. He would do it, no matter what.

"How hard is it to make a phylactery?" Gabriel asked.

"I know what you're thinking," the Prolessarch said, closing the notebook with an audible sigh. There was a moment of tension, before Prolessarch looked up. "You want to make all of your friends immortal, so they're not in danger. Like me, right?"

Gabriel looked away, taking advantage of the towel in his hands to cover his face as he dried the water off.

"Hey. Chin-up!" the Prolessarch said, before Gabriel could speak in a demure manner or do anything else. "There's nothing wrong with wanting your friends to be safe, and there's nothing wrong with being an immortal lich! It's really in vogue where I'm from, you know? Pretty much everyone does it. Anyway, if you want your friends to become liches and get phylacteries like me, I'll need to teach them the Magic of the Diagram, which is difficult. I don't think the odds are good they'll be compatible. You? You're a Cursebearer, of course you'd be compatible, but we're talking about… unaugmented, baseline humans. No Ego Barrier, no magical attainments or talents, no psychic presence, or anything?"

"None of that," Gabriel answered, shaking his head and lowering his towel, facing Prolessarch from where he was standing.

Gabriel thought about it. None of his friends would agree to learn magic to become immortal, and even if they did, they would never manage to do it. The next best idea was to go with the original plan – protect them himself. But how to increase the odds of success?

"If I can't die, then that means I will never stop growing stronger. Hence, I can keep everyone safe for longer."

"It's definitely a good idea, but I don't think we should focus on the Diagram for now. It's my absolute favorite magic - don't get me wrong - but I've almost finished the Surgecraft notes," the Prolessarch confessed, opening the notebook and tapping his pencil at the bottom of the page. There was the conclusion of a long string of equations there, concluding in a great number of numerical factors and letters that Gabriel wasn't confident he understood. "I have the exact formula needed to initiate you into the art. Sadly, I appear to be largely incompatible, as I do not have flesh, blood, or organic cells. I'll need you to bring me some reagents for that, however."

Gabriel nodded in understanding. "Let me get dressed," he said. He walked into his room and got into some comfortable, yet good-looking clothes, and then went back out. "What do you need?"

"Here, this is all I'll need." The Prolessarch ripped a page out of the notebook and handed it to Gabriel. "I've read some books to make sure the chemicals are right, and this all should be fine."

The Cursebearer looked down at the list.

- Freshwater (150ml)
- Leaded gasoline (50ml) or normal gasoline (45ml) and a few grams of lead or another heavy metal
- Green-apple flavored vape juice (100ml)
- Depleted uranium shavings (negligible amount)
- Diet Jolt Cola (250ml)
- Ethidium Bromide (250ml)
- Brackish water (500ml)
- Mineral water (500ml)
- Water spiced with tetrahydrocannabinol (100ml)

Gabriel raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Do you actually need water with weed in it?"

"Cannabis is an excellent psychosomatic catalyst," the Prolessarch justified. "Although it's better smoked, we're dealing with the creation of mystical water here. We need something that's sufficiently like a shamanistic herb. I suppose if you find any other drugs that, when smoked, produce pleasant effects, you can use that instead."

"I'll trust the skeletal archwizard who is immortal," Gabriel said, pursing his lips. "I'll ask my network to get me this stuff. As for mineral water, just get it from the tap – tap water has minerals here."

"Oh, I didn't know that!" the Prolessarch chirped happily. "Very good! Cross that one off the list."

As the Prolessarch skipped off into the kitchen, Gabriel pulled out his phone and began tapping away, sending messages to his friends–for each friend, a different ingredient.

He also told each of them a different store to go to, so that they wouldn't bump into each other and reduce their procurement and delivery time, and informed them to bring the items to his house at different, but relatively close times in order to not interfere with the schedule too heavily.

Luckily enough, one of his friend's mother worked in a laboratory in a nearby town, which meant the uranium would be relatively easy to get - sure, it would raise eyebrows, but there was nothing that couldn't be explained with, 'I'm doing some experiments for my science homework.' It was important not to mention it was being done with a skeletal professor, though.

The Prolessarch returned into the living room with a cup of clear tap-water in hand, then looked at Gabriel with a strange, clouded stare. After a moment of that, the lich turned to him. "You're not gonna…?" The lich moved his hand in a circular motion, questioning, but with no pressure.

Gabriel curiously looked up from his phone. "Gonna…?"

"Acquire the ingredients?"

"I wasn't joking when I said I'd ask my network. My friends know that I have the virus, so they won't ask questions if I ask them to get stuff for me."

"You mean to say, your friends think that you have the virus." The lich hopped back into a chair and used the remote to turn on the TV. He was surprisingly getting used to living in the modern world, and using television in short, rapid bursts when he wasn't reading. "I don't think you can get sick with something so paltry as a mutation of the common cold, not at your evolutionary stage."

Gabriel nodded and shrugged at the same time. "Being positive doesn't mean being sick. I don't have to be sick to be legally prohibited from leaving my house."

"I like a government that knows it can suppress its citizens!" the Prolessarch said humorously. "If only you could see the Labyrinth Empire, kiddo. So much corruption. So much decadence! Oh, it was such an Age of Glory. Too bad it ended! Hahahahahaha!" The skull rattled, teeth clacking against each other as the Prolessarch switched channels to a Spanish telenovela which appeared to take place in a hospital.

"Having an alibi also gives me an excuse to never stop training," Gabriel admitted, tilting his head to the left.

"Shouldn't you be getting back to that? Also, staying in your home is unhealthy," the Prolessarch said, then suddenly changed tracks. "There's some enemies that appear to be in the surrounding area to fight you, and you could profit from destroying them."

"I have the Doom of Judgement," the Cursebearer said.

"They're the ones looking for a scrap, aren't they?" the Prolessarch persuaded with a clear and friendly tone. "Preemptively moving in their direction to address their problem isn't evil, and the same applies to defending yourself."

"I have no weapons, no magic to fight with yet," Gabriel said, looking down at his hands for a moment.

"You have fists that can sink into concrete," Prolessarch refuted, then with a sigh admitted, "And a very bad magic system that nonetheless would allow you to make fireballs if you tried hard enough. And you have me, buddy. And your Coterie, if you ever decide to make one."

Gabriel sighed, and went for his room to grab a mask, a cap, and a pair of sunglasses.

The Prolessarch hovered after him, hand reaching into a sack in the inner portion of his robe as he rummaged through and pulled out a wand. "Look, all I'm saying is, if you don't meet the Doom of the Rival and the Apocryphal Curse, eventually, they're going to come to your doorstep."

"Let's just hope they're Nazis." He was referring to the Rival, or whoever came here to fight.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

"Maybe I was too literal," the Prolessarch considered.

Christ, Gabriel cursed mentally, as he went to the door and looked through the peephole. It was the mailman, apparently. Or at least it looked like one.

The Prolessarch cast a Sign of Seeming, and clad himself in the illusion of Gabriel's father with that familiar burst of a blueberry scent and dark blue rings. He started casting something else, that Gabriel didn't recognize.

"Who's there?" Gabriel asked, clenching his fists in anticipation, just in case he needed to kick the door down and crush the possible enemy with it.

"Did you order a pizza? Large pepperoni."

"No, I didn't," Gabriel replied.

"Well, that's a damn shame, because I intend to deliver!" There was a crack of wood and a protestation of clear steel as a fist lanced through the door and grabbed onto Gabriel's collar, pulling him in and then smacking him against the door with enough force to cause him to see stars for a brief second.

Gabriel reacted a moment later by abruptly pulling back and to the side–the assailant's arm was in a hole, through a metal and wood door. The man let go swiftly in order to not be hurt by the snappy motion, and the Prolessarch cried, "Dodge!" as several dozen dark-purple flaming orbs came into existence around him.

Without considering more than twice, Gabriel ducked out of the way, behind an ancient piece of wooden furniture.

At once, each one of the purple-flame orbs was sent forward at the speed of a bullet, crashing against the door and through it. They appeared to have mild homing properties, as at least eighty percent went through the hole the assailant made. The scream from the other side was a good suggestion that the Prolessarch's cruel assault yielded some measure of success.

"He's running!" the Prolessarch said. He dashed forward, crossing ten paces in an elegant motion, then opened the door and charged forward again.

Gabriel opened the big drawer and pulled out a traditional Sardinian knife. They were renowned for their incredible sharpness and resistance, due to the blade being made out of meteoritic iron and the handle being made of bone. It seemed like an appropriate weapon for a Cursebearer that's about to stab someone.

With that, Gabriel rushed after the Prolessarch. There was an entire flight of stairs to descend, due to his apartment being on the second floor, which he managed to go through in record time. The outside faced directly on a street, with a small store to the side and more houses on the opposite side of the street.

Prolessarch was standing in the middle of a burning, light orange bubble shield that surrounded and protected him with a loud humming sound, not dissimilar to a lightsaber. Every second, there was a loud gunshot-crack as another useless bullet rammed into his shield only to land at its feet. Gabriel's Ring of Prowess flared with its instinctive provision of tactical insight, and he understood the bullets must be magical, else the Prolessarch would see no need to defend himself from them.

Worryingly, there were people around on the street, observing the confrontation with varying levels of horror. Some of them were running.

"Run!" Gabriel shouted at the top of his lungs to all of the people around. Those who hadn't run yet did so with, perhaps, even more expediency than those who'd done so at once.

The warning shout, however, drew the attention of the gunner. It was a man in his twenties who appeared to be dressed in a late 60s American mail delivery man's outfit, with a canvas bag wrapped around him and some pistol-sized firearm that looked as if a Desert Eagle and an alien ray gun had a baby together.

Gabriel threw himself behind Prolessarch's barrier as the gunshots rang in a staccato. He could feel the whizzing of the bullets around him, but reached cover in less than a second.

"Who is that guy?! Is that your Rival?! Why is your Rival a mail delivery man?!" the Prolessarch asked in quick succession, sounding excited.

"I've no idea!" Gabriel exclaimed, as he flipped the knife over, holding it by the tip of its blade. The Ring of Prowess pulsed in lively excitation, ready to calculate the trajectory and give its ringbearer the skill to pull off an excellent throw.

"I'll destroy both of you, and th–" There was a sickening crunch and a wet mush of disgusting sounds, as a knife dug itself halfway into his right eye. The mailman screamed and discharged his firearm with no control.

The Prolessarch dropped his shield and dashed forward, crossing thirty-five paces in less than four seconds and then grabbed the gunner's arm, wrenching it upwards as the man fired more bullets. The Prolessarch's arm snapped back then forward, delivering a brutal rib-crushing punch to the man's chest, stunning him.

At Gabriel's command, the Ring of Prowess flared and the Prolessarch, with new talent for martial arts filling him up, punched again to the man's throat with his two fingers, then kicked and placed his foot on the man's stomach as leverage, managing to manually somersault him through the air and then smash him into the tarmac with enough force to produce a cracking sound from both the man's spine and the asphalt.

The Prolessarch then kicked him like a football in Gabriel's direction. This seemed to be enough to stun the man to drop the firearm, which clattered against the nearby sidewalk.

The man, only five feet from Gabriel, drew in a sharp hissing breath. The knife was lodged in his eye socket and caused an incessant arterial spray from it, staining his entire cheek in red. The mailman started to use his elbows for support, getting on his knees. "Ah… You'll pay for that..."

Gabriel clenched his teeth and kicked the knife further in, through the mailman's brain.

The man was beaten, and as a result, the Doom of Judgement activated. Gabriel could feel its effects, a minimal increase on his weight. It was lax with him, because the man was the assailant here, and Gabriel elected to deliver him a relatively swift and painless end, but he'd been defeated nonetheless.

It was a very minor activation, Gabriel noted. He could do away with this level of its effects by donating some money to charity or helping a little girl find her puppy. Not to dissimilar from something Gabriel would normally do.

"Not going to interrogate him?" the Prolessarch asked, moving up to them. One of his finger-bones appeared to have fallen off at some point. "I'm curious as to how and why he decided to dress up like that."

"Aren't you a necromancer and a mentalist?" Gabriel said, looking at Prolessarch.

"That doesn't mean I know every spell in the book, Mr. Cursebearer. The Diagram doesn't work like that," the Prolessarch complained, scratching his cheek despite its inability to feel itchiness. "I know three spells per Sign, and I have seven Signs. Necromancy is one of them. I suppose I could try to access the Domain of Necromancy, instead of the Diagram, but… that'll be a while."

"Can't you… look through his brain? Brains stay relatively functional for up to fifteen minutes after death, or something like that," Gabriel rebuked, thinning his lips.

"Alright." The Prolessarch looked down at the corpse, then knelt next to it. "I'll try."

Gabriel sighed in relief. "At least we don't have to make him go through more pain."

"He was an asshole." The Prolessarch shrugged. "He deserved what he got. You were in the right to kick that knife into his brain. Speaking of, it seems that knife caused significant damage to his temporal lobe and… yeah, most of his memories aren't..." The Prolessarch trailed off there.

Gabriel hissed in guilty cringe. "Reliable?"

"Existing," the Prolessarch corrected. "It's- what?" He recoiled back, as if he'd been told that a man is pregnant.

"What if the memories weren't there in the first place, and that man was just… controlled by one of my curses?" Gabriel theorized, and at that, a chill of horror went through him. Had he just killed an innocent man?

"No. That's idiotic. Your curses aren't omnipotent." The Prolessarch moved with superhuman celerity, turning the man over and taking out the knife. He then dug a finger into the gory crater in the man's face and started moving it around with sickening slurps. "You're right when it comes to one thing, though. He was controlled by something." The Prolessarch yanked out what appeared to be a bloodstained, beeping microchip connected to a bunch of red and yellow circuitry.

Gabriel clenched his teeth, forcing himself not to throw up. He killed someone innocent. The person behind this must've been his Rival, and they would pay.

"What a coward. He sends mailmen after us." The Prolessarch crushed the microchip into a dented, shattered collection of green pieces and electronic dust.

"He's going to die," Gabriel said, breathing out what felt like furious steam.

"You're right when it comes to that, too." The Prolessarch stood up, and then started casting a spell with a series of brief movements. "I'll get to work on fixing your door and cleaning up the body, you go and keep training. We need you up to speed with the Rival, whoever they should be."

He'd ask if the Prolessarch could remove memories, but even if he could, there were too many witnesses. At least half a hundred people observed the beginning of the fight, if not its conclusion. The street appeared rather desolate now, especially after those gunshots.

The Prolessarch's hand lashed out, and with its movement, the corpse suddenly appeared to rot in less than a second, become a skeleton in the second after that, and turn into a pile of dust in short order. Some kind of temporal effect that accelerated decay?

Gabriel crouched down and picked up the firearm the mailman had used, and brought it back into his house. Less evidence to look at if the cops were to show, plus an additional weapon in his arsenal.

Before he started his training, he decided to examine the weapon itself. With the Ring of Prowess on his finger, Gabriel managed to find and remove the trackers on the weapon, and once he was sure that there wasn't anything in it that could be used in order to triangulate his location, he checked the magazine. It appeared to be anomalously large, bending its own space to fit more rounds. There was space for at least two-hundred, and there was at least a hundred and twenty left, probably some more. Presumably, the mailman's controller didn't want to waste time reloading - he knew that he'd be facing opponents who were swift.

As the Prolessarch walked in, he said, "I've been thinking. After you get the ingredients for Surgecraft, we should move to a more defensible position."

"My aunt has a house she doesn't use, up in the mountains. It used to be a farm."

"Is it remote and defensible? Those are our main priorities," the Prolessarch elucidated calmly, picking up his notebook and leafing through it at a fast pace. "The Doom of the Rival is better when you're in a large concentration of people, since it lets you hide, but the Apocryphal Curse is a risk to everyone around us."

"It's both of those things, and also self-sustaining. We will never have to leave again if not for the direst of needs," Gabriel said with a half-smile. He put down the gun.

"Good. How far away from town is it?"

"You can't get there by car. Far enough?"

The Prolessarch looked up, curiosity sparked in his eyes. "That's perfect. I shall prepare the flying carpet!" He closed the notebook with a clasp of finality, raising a decisive finger.

"There's one in the closet," Gabriel said, letting out a dry chuckle.

To his surprise and shock, the Prolessarch actually moved in the direction of the closet.

Birdsie said:

The Ring of Prowess was a stone-hearted coach. It cared not for flesh, or for its weakness, and desired nothing but stringent devotion to self-improvement from the user.

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If I only had this ring in real life, I'd be the best pianist ever... fufufu, Rihaku-sensei, get to work on your magical blacksmith skills!

Birdsie said:

"How hard is it to make a phylactery?" Gabriel asked.

"I know what you're thinking," the Prolessarch said, closing the notebook with an audible sigh. There was a moment of tension, before Prolessarch looked up. "You want to make all of your friends immortal, so they're not in danger. Like me, right?"

Gabriel looked away, taking advantage of the towel in his hands to cover his face as he dried the water off.

"Hey. Chin-up!" the Prolessarch said, before Gabriel could speak in a demure manner or do anything else. "There's nothing wrong with wanting your friends to be safe, and there's nothing wrong with being an immortal lich! It's really in vogue where I'm from, you know? Pretty much everyone does it. Anyway, if you want your friends to become liches and get phylacteries like me, I'll need to teach them the Magic of the Diagram, which is difficult. I don't think the odds are good they'll be compatible. You? You're a Cursebearer, of course you'd be compatible, but we're talking about… unaugmented, baseline humans. No Ego Barrier, no magical attainments or talents, no psychic presence, or anything?"

"None of that," Gabriel answered, shaking his head and lowering his towel, facing Prolessarch from where he was standing.

Gabriel thought about it. None of his friends would agree to learn magic to become immortal, and even if they did, they would never manage to do it. The next best idea was to go with the original plan – protect them himself. But how to increase the odds of success?

"If I can't die, then that means I will never stop growing stronger. Hence, I can keep everyone safe for longer."

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And here is the thought process that creates a severely depressed, anxiety-riddled hunk of trash that is an overly protective human being! *laughs in relatable*

Birdsie said:

The Cursebearer looked down at the list.

- Freshwater (150ml)
- Leaded gasoline (50ml) or normal gasoline (45ml) and a few grams of lead or another heavy metal
- Green-apple flavored vape juice (100ml)
- Depleted uranium shavings (negligible amount)
- Diet Jolt Cola (250ml)
- Ethidium Bromide (250ml)
- Brackish water (500ml)
- Mineral water (500ml)
- Water spiced with tetrahydrocannabinol (100ml)

Gabriel raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Do you actually need water with weed in it?"

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Weird as it may, Prolessarch actually needs water with weed in it! At first, I thought he was trying to get me to buy some bullshit that he wanted for himself while only needing water and uranium, but alas, everything in this list will go into my magical Surgecraft juice.

Birdsie said:

The Prolessarch hovered after him, hand reaching into a sack in the inner portion of his robe as he rummaged through and pulled out a wand. "Look, all I'm saying is, if you don't meet the Doom of the Rival and the Apocryphal Curse, eventually, they're going to come to your doorstep."

"Let's just hope they're Nazis."

Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

"Maybe I was too literal," the Prolessarch considered.

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I figure this will become a trend. Saying something out loud, and then that something will inevitably happen.
Also! Funfact: 'Let's just hope they're Nazis' is a reference to "Veni, Vidi, Vici" which is the completed Worm fic written by me and @Birdsie. In it, I am a new parahuman, and in one of my first times stepping foot on Earth Bet, I was approached by three Empire 88 thugs: feeling threatened, I proceeded to beat the fuck out of them with my enhanced, supernatural physique. Suffice it to say, from that moment onward, the PRT knew me as 'the Nazi-beater,' until other stuff happened, which I won't spoil for you. Go read the damned fic, you heretics!

Birdsie said:

To his surprise and shock, the Prolessarch actually moved in the direction of the closet.

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Prolessarch is legitimately the best fictional character I've ever seen. Best boy!

Jera breathed in, regaining consciousness.

He shuddered in the car seat as if hooked up to electric diodes across his body. For a moment, he shook violently, unable to do anything else. Every limb felt unnaturally icy and numb, and his forehead was clammy with ice-cold sweat.

Once he regained control, he looked across the car, to the fellow Merchant junkie next to him. She was called Anna. Anna Brook Thompson. She used to be a high-school student, but had to run away from home because her parents were abusive. She turned to narcotics for solace, and the Merchants provided her with the best narcotics.

For a moment, as Jera breathed once again, the stained, reeking smell of his own vomit cast stringently across his tongue, he considered this city's cruelty.

She was such a hopeful, innocent person. Why did Brockton Bay have to dash all of her dreams?

Why was this city so... so... supernaturally evil? It was like there was a sentient, malicious direction in those concrete sidewalks and buildings. As if it were aiming to cause as much damage and injury to the human spirit as possible. It was a city so evil it transcended its status as one, and became a Curse. A signal that surpassed the nature of time and space and broadcasted itself into the souls of every innocent, good person, with the intention of swallowing them up in its malevolent murk.

I could've taken Apocryphal, the Cursebearer regretfully thought, shame for his old self's blindness oozing out of him.

He'd been in the city for over six months, and he was changed now. There was nothing to life but a constant, torturous cycle of death and suffering. Whenever there was a shining light of hope in the sky, the city would find some way to dash it. As if there was no fun or happiness to be allowed.

Drugs were a sweet escape, a promise of safety, warmth, and fantasy. It was a foregone conclusion that Jera would join the Merchants, but he hadn't made that realization until four months ago. With them, he was safer. With them, he had power, comfort, and a place he belonged to, and the drugs helped him with thinking and living.

He actually managed to scrape by like that, somehow. As a Progression-type, he managed to grow over time, expanding to create new techniques and uses of his Remittance. He even absorbed the powers of some other capes, mostly independents no one cared about, using his marrow-suction technique. In addition to his core abilities, he now possessed the ability to teleport with a release of blizzard ice at the point of exit, as well as make any object he touched ignore or experience increased friction, including himself and other people. It was useful for getting people out of containment foam, which is why he'd been welcomed into the Merchants with such open arms.

He was actually respected now, for a certain definition of 'respect.' It was hard to feel largesse and maintain a good self-esteem when your codename was 'Bonehead.'

Fucking Skidmark, and his stupid fucking naming sense.

Suddenly, Jera's work phone started ringing. He picked up immediately.

"Hey, Bonehead," Skidmark's voice said calmly, a little off. "We need you at our, uhh, workshop at 6th Avenue."

"I'll be there soon," he answered. Skidmark hung up.

Jera started the engine, then looked at Anna. Just to make sure she wasn't dead, he checked her pulse. She appeared to be fine, although definitely out of it.

He drove to the workshop, then approached Skidmark who stood next to one of Squealer's most recent projects: a giant scolopendra of a vehicle, made out of ten interconnected train cars with mechanical robot legs. It had turret mounts on everything.

"I'm here," Jera said.

"The Slaughterhouse Nine are attacking us," Skidmark said.

"Of course they are."

"No, I mean, right now! Look behind you, man!" the gang leader cried, ducking. Jera turned around and faced the Nine. Johnny Depp smiled and extended his arms like a welcoming priest.

"Hello, Bonehead!" the man greeted.

"Fuck you, don't call me a Bonehead." One of Jera's arms transformed into a blade.

"Don't swear!" Bonesaw warned. "We're here to kill you because you stole my name!"

"And how will you do that, when I can teleport?"

Bonesaw grinned and pulled out a device that looked similar to a TV remote. She aimed it heavenwards then pressed a button in the middle. "Behold...!"

Suddenly, a woman in military garb dropped from the ceiling. She was covered in blood, and parts of her appeared to have been taken from the bodies of the Cursebearers that Jera kept seeing over the months. He stepped back in shock, unable to comprehend this sight.

"War Crime!" Bonesaw introduced the new abomination. "It has parts of your Cursebearer friends, too! She can shoot guns at you, but the guns keep Progressing into better forms with each fight!"

"What the f-"

"War Crime, kill!" Bonesaw giggled as the monstrous zombie of her creation manifested a plasma bazooka and started unloading on Bonehead, Skidmark, and Squealer. Bonehead created a barrier of calcified spikes and ribs, but that wasn't enough - the blast punched through and killed him.

---

With a sudden breath, Bonehead awoke.

"It was a dream," he said, elated.

He touched his face. There was no scar from his fight with Shadow Stalker. His skin didn't have the uneven bumps from constantly manifesting a bone helmet. There were none of his battle scars or signs of combat anywhere.

With a sinking emptiness, Jera realized something.

"It wasn't a dream," the Accursed said, beginning to disappear once again. "It was a future you'll now have to prevent."

"No! No! Wait!" Jera said, scrambling and grasping onto the man's legs in a pleading posture. "Please, don't leave me! I'll take more curses! I'll take the Apocryphal! I'll take the Brand of the Wretched, and the Affliction of Slumber! Any curse you want, just please, don't send me back there!"

"Our transaction is complete. Farewell, Cursebearer." The Accursed faded away.

"NOOOOOOOOOO--" Jera screamed as he was, once again, transported to Brockton Bay.