New System, Who Dis?

Tuesday, April 16th, 2069

Silence descended on the room at the pronouncement. The statement was so absurd that it startled a laugh from me. Ms. Stovall followed suit, and then even my mother chuckled once before Smegma’s evil cackle overrode us all. Four pairs of widened eyes turned on him.

Maybe my father wasn’t too far off.

When Smegma was in control of himself again he brushed black tears out of his eyes and said, “I don’t think we are any eviler than you humans, elves, dwarves, deep dwellers or mermen. I’m sure there are others I’m not remembering, but I can tell you that all life is the same. Just like you, we’ve all gone to war with each other over differences amongst our own race. Before the system we’ve all had genocides and crusades. We’ve all got history of evil dictators and heroes who rise to oppose them.

“The only reason the Abyss Sect wanted to take over Earth was for another chance to ascend,” Smegma finished, opening the door to more questions.

Which Ms. Stovall asked immediately, “Ascend?”

“Yeah, like I told Brodie—” All eyes turned to me, even my mother’s. And she had to crane her neck back awkwardly to do so.

[Thanks a lot,] I mentally sent.

[You’re welcome,] Smegma responded before continuing, “The systems goal is to test a species. After an indeterminate amount of time it will deem you humans ready to take on the Seven Deadly Realm trials. When it does that, only your race can compete. So, even if another race did conquer the planet, it would be meaningless to treat you humans poorly. You’re our ticket to a higher plane…”

“But only a few of you who crossed into our world could go?” I asked, seeing a flaw in the demon’s logic.

“If you were close to succeeding, word would be sent back to Crendalar, and you would find a steady stream of F-rank refugees coming through each portal that opened.”

“But if only one person can go through each portal, your whole race couldn’t possible cross over,” my dad said, skeptically.

“The goal isn’t everyone. It’s like lifeboats on a sinking ship. We’ll send over anyone and everyone we can. Races that fail to ascend aren’t really living anymore—just slowly dying. Still, how many portals are open worldwide at any given time?”

Ms. Stovall picked up her phone from where I’d put it on the table after everything had calmed down, and the threat of her calling the police had subsided. She answered a moment later after typing something onto the screen. “Estimates say a couple of million.”

“So, a couple of million refugees a day,” Smegma said. “Not just Demons, obviously. But even if only ten percent of the portals lead to Crendalar—then hundreds of thousands of us could cross over with each cycle of opening and closing portals.”

“Well, isn’t that lovely,” Ms. Stovall said as she slumped back in her chair. “Surely, we need to tell the UNMH or our government about this…”

“What makes you think they don’t already know,” I asked.

“They do,” Smegma added, confirming my suspicions. “It would be impossible for your race to not have met a single local of another planet in the twenty-plus years you’ve been working with the system.”

“Can’t you just communicate with your sect and find out?” Ms. Stovall asked.

“Nope. This skill has some flaws—communication being one of them. Theoretically they were supposed to be able to communicate through pricing. Giving me some information on what I’m buying or they could increase items prices for sale as well—but that hasn’t happened, and I’m not sure why. Still, it’s very limited, so I’m all by my lonesome.”

“But you said there are other demons already here,” my mom whispered.

Smegma nodded knowingly. “Remember when I said that every race has internal wars and problems. Well, while I’m sure that there are other demons here. I’m not sure what faction they belong to.”

“Isn’t that a pleasant thought,” Ms. Stovall said, even as she looked meaningfully at her phone, the door and then even our TV. Only due to the sequence could I tell she was still considering trying to reveal this bombshell.

“You can’t,” I said quietly. Her head spun to focus on me so fast I thought she might be a Hunter.

“What do you mean I can’t?” she asked.

“Client confidentiality,” I answered. “All of this falls under that, right?”

She waffled. I could tell she was thinking that question through to its terminus. Mostly because she spoke out loud to herself. “Client confidentiality can be broken if the client poses a threat to themselves or others. Surely, the invasion of other species would put others in imminent danger.”

“Nope,” Smegma said. “The invasion has already happened. After thirty years, other races have probably penetrated deeply into every power structure you have. If there is a risk anymore, it’s for Brodie, his parents and you, if you try to upset that balance.”

“Are you threatening me?” Ms. Stovall asked.

“I can’t threaten even a hair on your head, lady,” Smegma said dejectedly, sounding truly remorsefuk about that fact.

“He’s just saying that we should be worried about what people will do to cover up the truth.” I looked around the room my eyes pleading after my excuse for the demon. I wasn’t really sure if that was what he was saying but those were my own thoughts on the matter anyway.

Ms. Stovall accepted my look, and slowly lowered her phone back to the table face down. That was good enough for me. She did of course add to the gesture by saying, “Okay, I’m not a hundred percent convinced that this doesn’t fall outside client confidentiality but I’m willing to hold off revealing what we just heard for now.

“Still, speaking of clients, I came here to discuss the video and its effects on the case,” she looked pointedly at Smegma. “Before you started telling the truth and he showed up.”

She turned Smegma’s gender into a question and I couldn’t help but realize I’d never really asked him about that. Then again, he had called himself a son of a Felguard and an Imp. So, surely that meant he was in fact male.

He nodded to Ms. Stovall but otherwise stayed quiet, leaving the ‘floor’ open to me. I took the hint and asked, “Well, I haven’t checked since I got home but how bad is this?”

“When I got here, I was worried that Mr. Varnish would use this to further muddy the water. Now? Now, you’ve got me thinking a bit deeper.”

“What do you mean?” my dad and mom asked in a slightly staggered unison.

“Well, if other races have infiltrated the governments, UNMH and other power structures of our world—whose to say that someone wasn’t aware of what Morgan Hallsbrad’s skills were. If that person exists, wouldn’t it make sense to hire a lawyer to find out more about the person who managed to one up someone who had a literal demon on his side?”

“Husk!”

“Language, Brodie,” my mom said, sounding a bit more like herself in that moment.

“Sorry, mom. But if that’s the case I don’t only have a high-priced lawyer to worry about. I’ve also got whoever is behind him too!”

“Yeah another evil demon,” my dad said jokingly. The comment broke the seriousness one more time, with a few chuckles.

It also got my brain to unstick on the conspiracy of the whole thing and ask, “So, what should we do?”

“Well, let’s say that the person behind Mr. Varnish is a demon, for example. From what Smegma said—” Ms. Stovall said the word in such a way that let me know she found the choice somewhat distasteful. I winced as she continued, “—there are other races that would probably oppose his backer.

“The trick will be finding them,” Ms. Stovall said, after she let a small silence stretch.

“Well, I do have SwiftGram and a sudden surge in popularity,” I mentioned. “Surely, that will help.”

“You also have Evelyn Treesong,” Smegma added, and everyone turned to stare at him. “You know your therapist.”

“We aren’t questioning who she is!” I exclaimed and Smegma either got the hint or read my thoughts to figure out the reason for my incredulity.

“I did mention that she has an elven name,” Smegma retorted as if that was explanation enough.

“But now you’re sure she is elven?” I asked, my tone questioning the line of logic.

“No, but it’s somewhere to start…”

“Right, so you want me to go in and ask my Psychiatrist if she is an elf?” I asked and then continued to further point out the stupidity of that thought. “That will go well, I’m sure. She won’t commit me to a high dose medicated mental institution, with a personalized straight jacket.”

“You can’t be crazy. Not with your A-rank Mental Fortitude.” Everyone was looking at me again in an instant and I closed my eyes in exasperation as I sighed.

“I guess, I should tell you all the skills I have, and what the repair mark really is,” I said, and launched into the whole story I had been trying to tell but kept getting interrupted. This time, at least, everyone let me speak without interruptions.

Except, Smegma. That Thirsty Husker was a dick; through and through.

* * *

“So, you have access to a shop that sells skills, profession gear, weapons and armor? Did I miss anything? Can anyone learn the skills you purchase or just you? I’m assuming the weapons, armor and gear can be used by anyone, based on the mining picks,” Ms. Stovall shot gunned out when I was finished.

“Uhhh—” I began but thankfully was saved by Smegma.

“That is something I’m not sure of,” Smegma said while tapping a talon onto his sharp teeth. I was happy to see everyone around the dinette shiver, like I had done when I first saw the action. It really was disturbing to see the creature use one deadly killing instrument to pick at or tap another. “At first, I thought he could do with the skills what he wanted, but with each update that Demonic Vault has gone through I’ve had more rules of the current system shoved into my head.”

“So, wouldn’t that mean you would know whether I could give the skill to other people or not?” I asked.

“Well, everything I know suggests you can. However, do you remember the mining Enchant destroying itself and then connecting to you?” I nodded and a few others at the table, now in on the full story did so as well. “Well, that’s just one example of things the system has scrapped through iterations. Usually, it wants the people undergoing integration to get strong, so buying new skills like this wouldn’t be curtailed.

“But why would it destroy an enchant meant to create a Crystal from the Mana Spillage?” Smegma asked. “There’s just no telling what the system would or wouldn’t do.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t stop him from buying weapons or armor and selling it for outrageous profit,” Ms. Stovall said.

“I think you missed the part where Brodie said that everything combat oriented is prohibitively expensive, and even after the updates he can only purchase high-B-rank skills or equipment at the highest.”

“Normally, I would agree with that, but you have also said that your people know far more about the system than we do. So, wouldn’t your B-rank equipment be far stronger than what we can produce?”

Smegma went back to tapping a talon to his teeth. After a moment he grumbled, “You aren’t wrong, but Brodie doesn’t have the connections in place to make sales like that without a middleman. Plus, that would reveal this skill or at least hints of it to others—” Smegma stopped mumbling to himself and looked pointedly around the room. “—Which didn’t go over so well with all of you. And most of you are family. So, I’m guessing that we should keep everything that’s happened in this kitchen. What do you think?”

Ms. Stovall’s eyebrows climbed as her eyes widened in realization. Then she nodded and said, “I wouldn’t tell anyone anything that was discussed in this room.”

“Does that include the refugees on earth part?” I asked.

She shrugged. “For now. Still, I think our earlier thought of looking for our own backers in this case is even more important now. If it’s okay with you Mr. Flacarrada, I think it’s time we hired a social media manager.”

“You really think that’s a good idea?” My father asked, clearly thinking that Mr. Flacarrada was referring to him. He realized too when Ms. Stovall transferred her gaze onto him. “Oh, you were asking Brodie. Sorry.”

“I mean, we don’t really have the money for that—”

“I think the bonus of four hundred thousand today, should cover it,” my father said. My mother who hadn’t heard that part of the story yet, gasped.

“You think that’s big news. Your husband and son killed a—”

“Get husked, Smegma.” I shouted interrupting him and earning an intense stare from my mother.

“Brodie, do you want me to wash your mouth out with soap like you were five?” my mother said pointedly. I didn’t think that was totally fair—I’d just saved her from fainting again. Still, my head fell—I didn’t like upsetting her.

Ms. Stovall saw my hangdog expression and saved me thankfully.

“Well, if you have the money, you can pay upfront, or my offices can. We will of course attempt to go after Morgan Hallsbrad’s estate to recoup costs.”

“Okay,” I said. “When do we start?”

“Tonight,” Ms. Stovall answered and reclaimed her face down phone from the table with a fervent glean in her eyes.