Chapter 2: Chapter 1: The Stats Chapter

♫Just singing in the rain.♫

♫What a bullshit answer, I'm pissy again.♫

"Fine, yeah, I get it. Shut the fuck up already."

Navigate in the dark around another beaten dead horse.

Wasn't the "system" helpful in those litrpg's? This piece of shit just keeps telling me what it can't do.

Late at night and raining. But I'm okay with that. My micro minions are working on my clothes and armor. Patching them up while continuing to repair me. And the water is cleaning me, at least a little bit.

My mana sensitive schnoz is leading me around. By the nose. *badum tish* Following the scent of enchanted equipment. Everything in this world has mana in it. Magic items just have a lot more. Letting me smell which direction the closest one is.

I've also been examining the nanos. Not sure what I did, or how, but these little guys are not a model I recognize. From the old gods or the new. They seem to be half magitech. As well as use mana instead of radio or conductivity to communicate. 

If not connected to me by touch? Can only get a few feet away before they start slowing down. Turning inert within minutes. 

They've even created a quasi group mind. Collectively generating individuality for each machine. A radically different design philosophy from the old gods suppressing sapience. And the new gods pushing gestalt consciousness.

*stumble*

"Damnit."

Wet ground littered with deceased obstacles is not the easiest course to tread at night. Plus I can hear beasties in the distance. Enjoying this rotting buffet. Put a big hole through a too brave wolf earlier. So they all give me a wide berth now.

"Status."

A semi transparent blue box appears before my eyes again. Showing me the current “stats” of, well, me. Thank you Jesus for Jesper’s mostly there memories. Because the system ain’t telling me crap. Well it doesn’t actually say anything at all. Only texts with these boxes.

Around here, priests are the ones teaching about the system and what everything means. Though for anyone familiar with litrpg’s? It's all pretty self explanatory. With a couple oddities. Like most fields use numbers or roman numerals. But “aura” uses that weird F to SSS scale.

Why? Jesper never asked, just accepted it. And mister high and mighty system just says I have insufuckingicient access.

Level is your racial progression. Not class progression. That uses roman numerals. And experience? It's a bar. No, literally, a progress bar. No 2000 of 5000 xp needed. No 40%. Nope!

You focus on the number to expand it and just see a bar that fills in more the closer you get to the next level.

Still, that doesn't seem bad, right? Oh you sweet summer child. It gets better.

Certain racial levels require certain class ranks. And vice versa.

So, as a completely random unoffensive example. Let's say you're a hooker who's rimming human level five. But you're only a prostitute rank iii. Your johns, sisters and pimp say you gotta tickle prostitute iv's balls before you can mount human five.

Now level experience is awarded for everything you do that’s “significant.” But class progression is only given for "noteworthy" accomplishments using skills that fall under it. Meaning you can sometimes get credit in both, but not always.

Since you're feening that five feeling you decide to go all in. Chug the aphrodisiacs. Pack in the lube. And hit the town.

No place is safe from your quest. Old folks homes, veterans halls, barmitzvahs, even podiums at police academy speeches. All get the full service treatment.

At day's end you proudly browse through the many "level experience added" and skill "use detected" messages. But? There's nothing about prostitute iv or human five. Leaving you and your ice pack packed privates bewildered. Confused. What happened?

The mystery remains until, one night, a wise weiner wanders by. Renowned for its wits and width you relate the quandary regarding your path. Surprisingly, the profound pervert reveals the answer with just one question. 

"Have you ever blown a midget?"

Light shines down from the heavens. A choir of angels sings. Moses parts the water as the new guy dives in the pool. It all makes sense now! One short trip to the traveling freak show later and, "ding, level five awarded."

You see? She's handled plenty of dwarves in her life. But never anyone with dwarfism. Causing a bottleneck in leveling. And every class has little traps like these. None of which are explained by the supposedly all powerful all knowing system.

So, long ago the temples stepped in and began recording the requirements for hundreds of classes. A monumental task that is critical information and available to all, for a price.

This financially strapped kid’s frustration over trying to reach butcher iv is still downright palpable.

“State” is a strange one. Basically, how you are right now. Usually presented in threes. First, your physical condition. Second, prevailing emotion. Third, appearance.

The body/mind stats are your "normally" followed by buff or debuff. That strength of 12 is effectively 9 right now due to physical and health issues. Endurance, intelligence and wisdom being way higher than Jesper remembers? Is probably due to my nanomachines and old soul.

Health isn’t full because I’m still hurt. Though I’m on the mend. Mana is way low because my mini me’s were going turbo to build the hand cannon and fix this body. Guzzling mana along with the other fuels.

Skills are a bit different. Only skills which you are actually good at are displayed. Everyone who can swing a sword without hurting themselves isn’t “Sword I.” They are “Sword 0.” Understanding the basics is just that, basic. Only when you actually demonstrate a meaningful ability with a pigsticker will that “0” turn into a “I” and get listed in the box.

All the eating my micro minions have been doing while I pick this battlefield clean has pushed that skill to II.

Now Jesper had Butchering, Spear and a couple others. But they are gone. Tried asking a few different ways but got, you guessed it, nowhere. Maybe it’s because “I” am no longer him? But that doesn’t explain why I still have Ebaeric (Northern) I. That’s the common tongue among humans in these parts. The northern bit indicates the dialect.

Like cockney or glaswegian compared to rp.

Aetherian is the magic language. What you use to chant spells. Which explains my issues with necromancy, golemancy, recovery magic and everything else. They use a different fucking language for that shit! An entirely separate vocabulary.

But I can’t speak it. With all the magic circles my nano’s have been chomping? Got over a dozen now floating in my mindscape. Helping me get fairly decent at reading some parts. Dragging it from 0 to II. Which does diddly squat to help me pronounce it!

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So I can speak the lingo here abouts. But not read it. And I can decipher the incantations. But not pronounce them.

…

Ain’t that a bitch.

Lastly is spells. Of course there is no such thing as “0” for incantations. At least Analysis is so damn simple I can cast it chantless. Oh and you don’t “get” spells when you level your class. You’ve got to learn them first and then they’ll be listed.

Peachy.

In case you haven't realized it yet. Mr Butcherson was not exactly at the top of the social ladder. In fact, he was an immigrant. Hoping for a fresh start after his asshole dad and the shitty economy left him little choice but to leave home.

So he joined a caravan headed north and this was as far as his meager savings could take him. It was rough, surviving that first year. But he finally got steady work and things were looking up. Until a local "warlord" decided his new home was easy pickings.

This far north is pretty much the ass end of civilization. All the "real" nations are down south. Up here there's only a few towns and some bandit lords. All of them selling to, and buying from, southern merchants.

Of course there's no such thing as easy pickings in the North. Only the tough and stubborn last more than a season up here. So I, I mean, he happily picked up his spear and headed out the gate with the town militia.

Things were going well. Pushing them back. Looking forward to bragging to Sally at the tavern. She might even give me a tumble again. And then that bastard shoved the business end of a sword into my, I mean, his gut!

Well the gods must have been watching because he died before I bled out. Run through by an orc spear!

Yep, several orc tribes call this frontier "home" too. And a warband had been waiting to ambush us both.

And that's where we died.

Not hard to figure what happened after Jesper expired. The orcs caught both sides with their pants down. Wiping them out and then raping and pillaging the unprepared town afterwards, was a given.

The healthier survivors will have already been chainganged off to slave away the rest of their lives in mines and fields. The luckiest ones getting sold to southerner traders and heading for warmer climes.

What about the old, weak or wounded? What about them? Ha! What do you think happened? Hopefully they died quickly.

Nothing is new under the sun. Every few years a town gets overrun. And a new one is founded. There will always be more, willing to travel far for a fresh start. And enough fur, iron, and wood to make it worth the merchants while to, "encourage" them.

*ding*

"Finally, geesh. Quests."

Do you see that? Isn't that the most beautiful thing ever? Storage magic, baby!!!

Fuck the one ring. Screw world peace. No thank you, winning lottery ticket. Just gimme that spatial cheese. That's all I need. Could stand there making crap appear in, and disappear from, my hands all day long and never tire of it.

Hey, bugger off. I've gone through two worlds without it. Having to lug all kinds of shit all over. Yeah, cyberland wasn't too bad but medieval world sucked ass. Everywhere I went needed a damn convoy.

And that was just to get there. Heaven forbid it was a dungeon and you wanted to bring tons of loot back!

Free at last, free at last. Thank god almighty we are free at last!

Granted, my internal inventory is pretty freaking small. Like a suitcase. And it doesn't handle stuff that's alive or too dense. Can't store my revolver in it, for example. But I already found a poor grade storage ring. Which is around the size of a car's trunk.

The kid’s memories say inventory is created by your class. Many don't provide any. But storage magic items can be used by anyone. And while rare, like all enchanted hardware, I can store my revolver in it.

Oh, and grades are the usual. Poor, Common, uncommon, rare, epic then legendary.

Those priests also covered the quest types. Personal, class, group, race, area and public. As you can guess, types are based on availability. The rarest being public. Since just about anyone can accept it.

"Oooh, shiny."

My new common quality storage ring auto adjusts to snugly fit my finger. Just have to focus to see inside.

"Nice place you've got here, lots of space."

Oh yeah, a lot better. About a small room's worth here. My inventory grew too. But not by a lot.

Good, the nanomachines are almost done. Once they finish I should be able to change my appearance and buff my stats. So shouldn't be recognized. But what about my name? There are a variety of spells and items that reveal parts of your status box.

Is there a way to change my name? Jesper doesn't know of one.

???

Really?

"None of that access crap this time? Huh. Well, system, my days of not taking you seriously are certainly coming to a middle."

“Nice… oops. Hehe. Entered it like Frankie would spell it. Jon instead of John. Meh. No worries. Hey system, buddy. How do I pop that box again so I can fix it?”

…

Mother. Fucker.

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