Bog Standard Isekai-Chapter 33Book 4.

Lucidity came back to Brin slowly, along with pain. His face was aching and throbbing with burns and he couldn't hear or see anything. Without his two primary senses it would be hard to tell that he was even conscious if not for the fact that his magic still responded to his call.

He summoned two Invisible Eyes right on top of his regular eyes, and the world snapped back into focus.

"--you alright?" Cowl was looking down at him.

"Mmf. I'm fine," said Brin. Taking stock, the parts of his body covered by the armor were fine, which included his hands. He touched his face, and saw that Cowl had placed a damp cloth on them. He wasn't sure if it was soaked with water or something else; all he could smell was smoke.

"What was that?" asked Hedrek, pushing Cowl aside.

"I... I wanted to see if there was a limit to how much Mana it could hold."

"You sure you're ok?" asked Hedrek.

"Yeah. No problem. I'm fine," said Brin.

"Good! Then we can skip straight to giving you a hard time! What in the world were you thinking?"

Brin groaned.

"Hey guys. Guys. Do you remember our orders? Somebody said something about how the only rule was that we shouldn’t do something stupid. Do you remember that?”

“I seem to remember something like that,” said Aeron.

“Who was it that gave that order? Does anyone remember?” asked Hedrek.

They all laughed.

"I don’t recall," said Brin. "Hey, do you think there's any chance you guys are going to forget to mention this to Cid?"

"Oh no," said Hedrek, laughing. "No there most certainly is not."

Brin groaned again. He tried to be good-natured about the ribbing, but he wasn't quite as 'fine' as he kept saying. His natural hearing and vision weren't coming back, and his face really hurt.

"Did anyone see... is anything left of the Core?"

Anwir stepped forward, holding the Core, broken into two pieces. The two jagged ends of the broken core were blackened and melted. "It was a fairly clean break, all things considered. Popped straight in half."

He tried filling them with Mana again, and it took to it much less cleanly, like he was pushing it through a plugged filter. At least they still accepted it. Maybe he'd be able to get a [Gemsmith] to recombine them. That, or make two smaller ones.

Brin sighed.

"Was it very valuable?" asked Anwir.

"Kind of. It was a gift from my... father. It was really hard to find," said Brin.

"Alright, leave him alone. He needs rest," said Cowl.

Physically, Brin could probably stand and walk without trouble, but he was glad for the excuse, because he wanted to check back in with Cid, Meredydd, and Brych. Part of it was worry for them, but mostly he needed to distract himself away from his own body. There was a rising panic starting in his chest and climbing up his throat and he needed to think about something else before he starting screaming or blubbering or both. РÄNＯ฿Ɛṩ

His eyes… Sure, he could make do with illusion magic, but what if…? No. He needed to think about something else.

All the directed threads he'd made earlier had returned with his sudden injury so he had to make new ones with new Invisible Eyes. By the time they reached the city, Meredydd and Cowl had crossed half the town.

"Oh wow!" Meredydd suddenly said. "I can't... I can't believe it!"

Cid looked for the danger, his eyes darting everywhere. "What is it?"

"A notification. My [Knightly] Achievement just upgraded. And my Class. I can upgrade it! It's offering me [Squire of Arms]!" Meredydd gazed at his status screen, invisible to everyone else, in a state of ecstatic shock.

Cid put a hand on his shoulder. "Congratulations."

Is that all that was missing? The men were already acting as knights, so the [Squire] Class should be a shoe-in. If Meredydd was any indication, all they were missing was true dedication to the Lance and the Order, rather than just taking the job out of convenience.

Brin decided to check on Brych. Cid had told him to go prepare the horses, but now that his threads had returned he saw that one of them had seen the direction Brych was heading in before the explosion, and it hadn't been towards the horses.

Brin sent a small army of Invisible Eyes to scour the area. Looking in the direction he’d seen the [Rogue] leave, he searched the poorest, seediest sections of town first.

He found the [Rogue] winding his way through a back alley. The four men Brin had seen following their group earlier were with him, two in front and two behind.

“You’re sure Mab just wants to talk?” asked Brych.

“Like I said, just a quick little chat,” said the [Spear-wielding Fisherman].

“Then can’t we go straight there? I’ll need to get back to my Prime before he gets suspicious,” said Brych.

“If you’re so worried about that, then you never should’ve come back here,” said the thug.

“Or you never should’ve left in the first place,” said the [Fist-Fighting Baker] from behind Brych.

It looked like Meredydd wasn’t the only person with a troublesome past in this city. Brin didn’t like where this was going. He mentally checked back in with the Invisible Eye watching Marski, and said using Silent Voice, “Hey, Brych is in trouble. You need to get them to follow you. I can guide you.”

Marksi nodded and scampered in front of the two knights motioning for them to stop. He started squeaking furiously and pointing.

“What? What’s he want?” asked Meredydd.

“He probably smells something he wants to eat,” said Cid.

Marksi hissed and turned in a circle, furious, and then crossed his arms, pouting.

“That’s not it? What do you want, Marksi?” Meredydd asked.

Marksi pointed at Cid, then Meredydd, and then down in the direction of Meredydd.

“Are you looking for something? Food?” asked Meredydd.

Marksi nodded to the first question, and then shook his head to the second.

“Maybe he really does understand us. Then you’re looking for something? Brych?”

Marksi nodded furiously and then pointed again.

“No,” said Cid. “Brych went to get the horses.”

Marksi hissed. Brin could sense that this was about the end of how far Marksi was willing to go for this. As a rule, he hated trying to communicate with stupid humans.

Brin tried to copy Brych’s voice and make a sound like “help!” just barely loud enough for Meredydd and Cid to hear. It didn’t come out very well, but it struck Cid like a lightning bolt.

Cid’s eyes firmed. “You can find him?”

Rather than answer, Marksi took off down the street. The knights followed.

Brin guided Marksi with vocal direction. “Left. Right. Straight here. Keep going. Left, and then you’ll see him.”

Meanwhile, Brin saw that the thugs that Brych was with were leading him to a group of twenty more men. He figured they’d been leading the [Rogue] around in circles while they called all their guys together. This was a trap.

A trap for a [Rogue], though? How would that work? Brych could hear the heartbeat of a fieldmouse in its den if he was anything like Zilly. He looked closer at the men hiding in wait, and listened. He really listened and heard… nothing. That many guys together were never that silent. He bet some kind of Skill was obscuring them.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

One older man with an open shirt and a belt made of daggers seemed to be the leader. [Inspect] told Brin he was a [Field Hand] which just meant he had a really good [Hide Status].

Marksi, Cid, and Meredydd were about to catch up, and he could see the gang leader watching them, even though he was two blocks away and there were three buildings in the way. He had [Rogue] senses, too. Brin had them go the long way around, making it look like they were running towards something else.

Then he used illusion magic to silence the three of them and have them wrap back around. Hopefully in all the excitement they wouldn’t notice how quiet their footsteps were all of a sudden.

It worked perfectly. The gang leader turned his attention back to the approaching Brych.

“Well, well, well. The lost lamb finally returns.”

“Mad, I can explain,” said Brych. “If this is about the artifact, I can replace it. Even better, I’m in a Lance now! I can–”

Mab tsked. “No, my boy, you know me well enough by now to know that’s not how I operate. I don’t take gold or barter for this kind of debt. Only blood will do.”

“How interesting,” said Cid.

Several of the gang audibly gasped as a [Knight] in shining armor seemingly materialized out of thin air. Unlike Brych, his armor wasn’t simple steel. Unlike Brych, he didn’t look like a boy playing at being a [Knight]. He looked like an angel of death.

Brin might’ve been using his illusion magic to give him an extra bit of gleam, to make his eyes just a tad colder, and make his voice pierce the surroundings like the sun pierces the cloud.

“Gurthcid, sir, I’m so sor–”

“Oh, shut up,” said Cid. “How many times am I going to go through this today? I’m beginning to think that a scarred little fourteen-year-old is the only member of my Lance with any sense.”

Brin winced. How fast would [Scarred, but Healing] work on burns? Was there any chance his face wouldn’t be red and blistered when Cid got back?

“We’ve got you outnumbered, sir [Knight],” said Mab, even though from all appearances he had the advantage here. Brin figured he could get them all to safety when they started running, and he hoped that would be soon. “So just–”

“And you,” Cid said, looking at Mab. “How dare you? Every able bodied man of fighting age in this city has already been called upon to join the war and defend your nation. How dare you all be here, instead of there?”

“You’re not in any position to–”

Cid slowly moved his hand and let it rest on the hilt of his sword. He moved into a fighting stance. “You’ve offended me, and you’ve offended the law. Now face justice.”

Brin had never seen Cid use that sword. He really wanted to. But at the same time, he hoped this was a fakeout and that Cid would start running soon.

Cid didn’t run. He blurred, and Brin recognized the telltale speed of a [Knight’s Charge]. Unlike Hedrek’s wild brutality, Cid’s movements were utter perfection. One long, fluid motion that crossed the entire backstreet.

A sound like the chiming of a bell. A streak of gold and silver. Then Cid was on the other side, with his back to Mab.

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Mab’s head slid slowly to the ground.

The gang hadn’t had enough time to work themselves into a fighting frenzy. Instead, they stared at their fallen leader in shock, and then at Cid.

Now that he’d seen him in action, Brin’s [Inspect] had a new detail for Cid.

[Path of the Blade] Cid has reached the third step on the path to true mastery. This Skill decreases a blade’s striking power in exchange for absolutely perfect control. Imbue the blade with mana to increase speed and precision further.

Eventually, one greasy-looking man with a long nose said, “I suddenly find myself overcome with patriotic pride. The army, that’s the life for me.”

“Excellent choice,” said Cid. He did an admirable job of pretending he wasn’t exhausted after using that Skill, but Brin noticed the sweat on his brow and the slight tremble in his fist as he sheathed his sword again.

The adventure bought Brin a lot more time. Cid and company took the gang to the nearest army outpost and saw them all be recruited, and then Cid split off to have a long conversation with his wayward [Rogue].

When he was done, Brych was fully devoted to the Lance, and the System recognized it, giving him the [Watchful Squire] Class.

That was two.

Unfortunately, his face didn’t heal. He created a mirror for himself and studied himself for a long minute before realizing that he could’ve just had an Invisible Eye look at him at literally any time.

It didn’t look good. His skin was beet red in the healthiest spots. Most of his face was covered with thick white blisters. The worst were his eyes. When he pulled the bandages Cowl had placed there down, he saw foggy grayish blue irises, no pupils visible, and red where white should be.

He was blind. He was blind.

It wasn’t as bad as it looked, he tried to tell himself. High Vitality made people bounce back from all kinds of damage that should be permanent, and he had [Scarred, but Healing] on top of that. He’d be fine. Hogg always talked about using light to blind people as if it weren’t all that effective. He wouldn’t discount it like that unless people really did recover easily from this type of thing.

He’d be fine. But no matter how many times he told himself that, it was impossible to really believe it.

Eventually he tied the bandage back around his eyes like a blindfold and tried to get some rest before his Prime got back.

It took forever, but it was still too quick. Mid-afternoon, a triumphant Cid, Meredydd, and Brych rode into camp. Cid could tell something was up right away by the silly grins the men all wore.

“Eridu protect me, now what?”

“You should ask your Second,” said Hedrek. “That’s what you leader types do, right? Reconvene, recalibrate. Reconnoiter.”

Brin stood and turned his back, pretending to examine the afternoon sun. He raised a hand to block the light he couldn’t really see. “Seems like we have some daylight left, sir. Should we hit the road?”

It was Marksi who gave him away. The little guy noticed Brin’s wounds and immediately started making a pained, whimpering sound, and jumped up to lick his face.

“There, there, it’s not as bad as it looks,” said Brin.

Cid walked around and got a good look at Brin's appearance. "So it's true. I'm completely surrounded by fools. How did this happen?"

Brin had no choice but to stand at attention and weather the storm. "An artifact I was tinkering with exploded, sir."

"Do you carry very many artifacts that are so unstable they are liable to explode and remove one of my men?"

"I'm not removed, sir. I can still ride, and I can still fight," said Brin.

Cid shook his head in disbelief. "How many fingers am I holding up.

Brin remembered to lift his blindfold at the last second. "Three, sir."

"Lucky guess. But you haven't answered my question. What other artifacts are you carrying that can explode out of nowhere?"

"None, sir. Even this one was safe enough. I just wasn't paying attention to what I was doing," said Brin.

"And what, pray tell, so captured your attention that you couldn't focus on a dangerous artifact in your hands?" Cid pantomimed looking around at the barren and empty plains.

"I have no excuse, sir," said Brin. "We can still ride out. I promise I won't slow you down."

Cid sighed. "We're not riding out on patrol when our Second looks like that. Prepare the horses, boys. Looks like you're getting your night on the town after all."

The men erupted into cheers.

"Not you, and not you either," Cid said, looking at Meredydd and Brych. "If I gave you a night of drinking and dancing after the stunts you pulled, I would be the worst Prime in the Order. The two of you can keep watch on our wayward Second."

The two of them barely looked disappointed; by all accounts they were getting off easy.

They rode back into town, and Cid took them to a hospital built into the side of a temple. The temple of the gods in Fortmouth was much larger than the one in Hammon's Bog. It was positively massive, and wooden frames on the roof told that it was still under construction. Brin was glad he didn't have to go inside. The sure knowledge that the gods were real and watching was hard to ignore in a place like that.

The hospital barely deserved the name. There were rooms, and beds, and very little else. Some of the rooms had locks on the outside to shut in the visitors who were sick with mental afflictions. By watching Cid make the arrangements, he learned that the beds were free, but you had to hire a healer separately. Those who couldn't afford to hire someone took the beds and waited for days or weeks for a healer to treat them as an act of charity.

He also didn't see anyone with a [Healer] Class. He saw [Physicians] and even [Doctors], as well as [Healing Herbalists] and [Nurses], but if [Healer] was a real Class it wasn't represented here.

Brin was guided to a small room with a lumpy straw bed. He removed his armor, grateful for his Iron Man program, and laid down. Eventually a [Tincturist] came by and applied some kind of paste to ears and then his eyes, a process that wasn't exactly painful but terribly uncomfortable. The man claimed that his vision would return soon, but it was hard to feel any relief at that news. He'd feel better when he could see and hear again.

He kept Invisible Eyes on the men as they found a tavern had fun without him, but watching that made him feel bad enough that he let directed threads take care of it. Brych and Meredydd were surprisingly gracious, and didn't complain once that they'd been tasked with watching over him. They brought him a pitcher of water and supper in the evening, and found rooms nearby for the night, keeping an alternating watch even though nothing would happen here in town.

Marksi was in even more distress than Brin, and kept licking his face even though it kind of stung every time he did. He rarely slept on Brin's bed anymore, but tonight he wouldn't be moved even though the small bed barely had room for Brin himself.

He eventually created a bunch of conscious threads just to make time feel like it was moving faster and waited until he was tired enough to be claimed by sleep.

He woke again after only four hours, but with [Dreamguard] that was plenty. He rose, donned his armor, and looked into the mirror, still using Invisible Eyes.

The reddened parts of his face had mostly returned to its normal color and the blisters had shrunken quite a bit, but his eyes were still puffy and clouded.

He experimented with using illusions to make them look like they'd recovered during the night, but he couldn't separate little pieces off of Mirror Image yet, so the only solution would be to cast an entire Mirror Image over his entire body just to fix the eyes. He wasn't sure he would be able to sync his movements perfectly, not all the time, so he sighed and left it how it was.

Maybe the System felt sorry for him, because it gave him something for the attempt.

[Call light through Glass] has leveled up! +1

Brin donned his armor, turned to the door, and hesitated. He knelt on the floor and said a prayer to Solia, one of the memorized ones that Ellion had taught him.

He'd been lax with his prayers, but now they suddenly seemed important. It was more than the injuries; it was the fact that he was exposed now. There was no Hogg here to bail him out of his worst ideas, and he wasn't protected by Galan and an Order of experienced [Knights]. It was him and his little Lance, and that was it.

Brin had to argue Cid into it, but they left town that day to resume their patrol. He kept his distance from the rest of the men, in no mood to weather their jokes.

Around noon, his ears popped. Something fell out of them, and he could hear again. He mostly heard a horrible ringing, but he also heard the wind and the conversation of the men behind him. It was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard.

The day passed uneventfully, and the next was shaping up to be about the same, until Brin spotted something with his Invisible Eyes. Two miles east of the Lance, he saw a group of twelve hairy, brutish, ugly humanoid creatures.

He was wondering how he'd draw the Lance's attention to them when Brych raised his nose to the air. "I... I smell something. There are goblins nearby!"

Cid whooped, showing an uncharacteristic enthusiasm. Then looking embarrassed, he cleared his throat. "Look alive, men. It's time for us to earn our pay."