Victor of Tucson

Victor groaned and collapsed onto his narrow, scratchy mattress. He felt like he did after his first day at summer wrestling camp as a freshman. In a way, it was a good clean feeling of having worked his ass off, and, on a deeper level, he felt like he’d accomplished some things that had ignited a little flare of hope in his chest. He reached his hand into his pocket and felt the hard, cool metal of the ring and amulet, and a slow smile crept over his face as he drifted into a deep, heavy slumber.

“Victor,” a gruff voice said, shaking his shoulder. Victor’s eyes popped open, and he rolled onto his back, blinking rapidly in the bright light of the barracks. Heng leaned over him, his jowly, furry face just inches away. His thin, black lips spread into a broad smile, showing off lots of pointy teeth, and he said, “Hey, Captain kept her word. We’re free for the day. Me and a couple others are going to turn in quests. You wanna come?”

“Mm, yeah!” Victor yawned while he spoke, then sat up. “Gimme two minutes to take a piss and get my boots on.”

“Right, we’ll be out front.” Victor stood and slipped his boots on, then stepped through the door to the “jacks,” as the veterans called the long, narrow room, where wooden toilet seats sat above holes in the ground. Two of the toilets had wooden partitions, but he was the only one there, so he just used one of the open ones. When he finished washing his hands and splashing water on his face, he walked outside to join Heng, Fenlale, Gris, and a Vodkin woman he’d seen fighting but hadn’t ever spoken with. They hiked to the central cavern where the Settlement Stone rose from the ground, joking around about how lucky they were to have a day off and what they’d do with all the extra time. Heng joked about taking Sullya, the female Vodkin, to dinner, and she punched him in his belly, making his blubber quiver and jiggle. Victor laughed and dodged out of the way when Heng took a swipe at him.

They didn’t have to wait long to access the stone; most of the other teams of workers were busy elsewhere in the mine, so the lines were short. When Victor put his hand on the stone and selected the “quests” menu item, he navigated to the section to turn in completed quests and was surprised to see more than just his slaying quest update:

Quests for Victor Sandoval in Greatbone Mine:

Slay 100 denizens of the deep

Complete! Reward: 240 credits. Accept reward? Y/N

Recover Energy-rich materials

Turn in artificed amulet for 1000 credits? Y/N

Victor very briefly considered selecting the yes option for the 2000 credits, but he figured that the items might very well be far more valuable to him than some Contribution Store credits. He also didn’t know if the stone kept track of stuff like that, and he didn’t want to answer questions about how he got so many credits. He turned in the slayer quest and picked up another one, this time requiring him to slay 200 denizens. “Do they always go up in number? The slayer quests?” He asked aloud.

“Nah, if you finish ‘em fast, they do, but if you struggle with one for a long time, the next one will be lower,” Gris answered.

“Ahh, thanks,” Victor said, switching over to the Contribution Store menu. His worn-out, mismatched boots were starting to chafe his feet, and he wanted to see if he could get a new pair and some socks. After a bit of surfing through the menus, he found what he wanted and bought four pairs of wool socks and a pair of sturdy “mining boots” that looked like hiking boots but had steel toe guards. Standing there holding the socks and boots that had appeared in a yellow-blue mist, he also decided to buy a small “miner’s pack.” The pack was similar to his old school backpack but made of smooth oiled leather and with fewer pockets. He’d only spent thirty-five credits altogether, so he shopped through the menus a bit more. There were many clothing options, but nothing could match up to his black self-cleaning, self-repairing shirt and pants. He bought a few pairs of underwear and a leather breastplate that cost him a hundred credits. He figured he’d use his next quest turn-in to buy an upgraded weapon.

He stepped back from the stone and stuffed most of his purchases into his new pack, then he pulled the hard-leather breastplate over his head, fastening the three straps into their shiny brass buckles. “Not bad!” he said, rapping his knuckles against the stiff leather.

“Yeah, delvers that don’t die make a lot more credits than the other crews,” Heng said, stuffing some jars of pickled fish he’d purchased into his own pack. Watching him stow away his treats, Victor noticed a coil of rope which gave him some ideas. He still had over a hundred points, so he put his hand back on the stone and bought a twenty-five-foot rope, a flint and steel, and a flask of lantern oil. He figured he might as well buy a few supplies whenever he could so that he’d be ready if the right opportunity arose. His pack nice and plump with purchases, he stood off to the side, waiting for the others.

On the way back to Lam’s barracks, Victor slowed to walk next to Gris, who was bringing up the rear. “Hey, man, what else you got going on today?”

“Hmm? Oh, I’ll probably play some dice with the others, then just lounge about. Captain didn’t give Fath any instructions for us, so he’ll probably leave us be.”

“Um, you know I’ve got a fucked up Core, right?”

“Yeah, you told me.”

“Well, it’s tough for me to concentrate and do the tiny bit of cultivating I’m capable of. Is there a place near the barracks I could chill and meditate without any racket?”

“Hah, yeah, there’s a cave behind the barracks. Just follow the crevice; you can’t miss it. It opens into a quiet place where some veterans go to cultivate. No one talks in there, so don’t be making any noise ‘cause some of ‘em will use it as an opportunity to practice their more violent skills.”

“Right, thanks.” Victor walked along trying to formulate a game plan for how to escape the mines but was unable to think beyond a few hours. How would he get out? He still had a collar on his neck, there were guards everywhere outside, and he didn’t even know what direction to run in. He had a lot more to learn before making a real attempt.

“Victor!” Heng shouting his name brought him out of his daydreams about bolting free of the mines, and he trotted up to the big Vodkin.

“Yeah?”

“Tell Sullya about the rat that almost ate you.”

“Oh, yeah, well, it was about as big as Gris and covered in black fur with bright red eyes…”

“Hey! Are you comparing me to a rat?” Gris interrupted, marching up to the others.

“No, Gris! You’re much better looking than that rat and at least twice as hairy,” Victor laughed.

“You believe this? Kid’s been here a couple days and is already making jokes?” Gris laughed too, though, and gave Victor a friendly shove. They continued walking, ribbing each other, and Victor found it easy to blend in. In the back of his mind, he was pissed at himself for acting like everything was alright, but he also knew that he had to fit in and make the most of whatever situation he was in. Sulking, moping, and alienating the people sharing his plight wouldn’t get him anywhere.

When they got back to the barracks, Victor didn’t go inside, saying he wanted to go try to work on cultivating. Gris nodded, and Heng shrugged, but Sullya scoffed like he was wasting time. He didn’t think she was referring to his weak Core but that she was just one of those people who didn’t see the point in pushing yourself, especially when you were being forced to work for other people.

When they’d all stepped into the barracks, Victor walked around the exterior, noting the smooth path worn into the packed dirt and rock of the cavern floor. Behind the barracks, he found that the smooth trail continued toward the jagged rocky wall of the massive tunnel and disappeared into a dark cleft in the stone. He followed the path into the darkness, and as his eyes adjusted, he saw that a faint orange light glimmered up ahead. Walking toward the light, he realized it was one of the glowing Energy orbs that Captain Lam tended to place around on paths she scouted. Victor passed three more glowing orbs following the crevice before stepping into a dome-shaped cave about a hundred feet wide.

The cave was light with more of the softly glowing orange globes, and Victor could see that it had a very smooth stone floor with rounded boulders scattered in every direction, varying in size from that of a basketball to a mini-van. Fuzzy green and blue moss covered most of the stones, and a pool the size of a large bathtub occupied the center rear of the cavern. The occasional drip of water falling from the ceiling into the pool was the only sound. Glancing around, Victor could only spot one other person—a large blue, Ardeni man meditating with his back against a mossy boulder.

Victor tiptoed over the mossy cavern floor to the far wall on the opposite side of the cavern from the other man. He moved over to one of the larger boulders and sat down behind it, facing the cavern wall. He had only been partly lying to the others; he did want to work on his Core, but first, Victor wanted to see what he could figure out about the items he’d found in the ruins. He slipped his hand into his pocket and wrapped the warm, hard shape of the ring in his fist. He’d been thinking about how he’d been told to “bond” with the storage sack that Sergeant Fath had given him to clean up the beetle bodies. Is that how you activated any sort of magical item? Gripping the ring tightly, he pushed a trickle of rage-attuned Energy out through his pathways and into the warm metal.

Victor felt the ring absorb his Energy, but nothing more happened; he didn’t suddenly become aware of a dimensional space like with the sack or any other special effect. Glancing around over his shoulders, he risked a quick glance at the ring. Pulling it out of his pocket, still ensconced in his fist, he cupped his other hand over it and slowly peeled back his fingers. The ring sat in his palm, glowing with a warm orange-red radiance and pulsing with heat. Victor clasped his fingers closed and then stuffed the ring into his other pocket. He didn’t know what it did exactly, but the ring seemed to absorb Energy and become a source of light and warmth. He wondered if there was more to it, but he decided to put it aside for now.

He reached into his other pocket, leaving the ring to pulse warmly over his left hip, and wrapped his hand around the medallion. It was round, about half the width of his palm, and he could feel the raised bumps of some sort of pattern on the metal. He wanted to pull it out and study it, but he knew it glowed with silvery-blue light and would be far too conspicuous for him to feel safe. It was cool in his palm, and, gripping it, he felt a slight tingle pass into his flesh. Once again, Victor pushed some Energy out through his pathways and into the item in his fist. Suddenly a surge of ice shot up his arm and into his mind, and he felt it pressing against his mind, his spirit, his very self.

He grunted, and then Victor scowled; what was this fucker trying to do to him? He could feel the foreign presence spreading, and he bore down on it, turning his mind inward like when he studied his Core, but this time focusing on the icy presence in his mind. He began to squeeze it, pushing it back, cutting it off from the amulet, and compressing it with his will. As he drove it into a tiny corner of his mind and began to apply more and more pressure, a strange, metallic voice sounded in his mind, “I yield! Please stop!”

Victor was so startled by the voice that he did stop; he pulled back on the pressure, and the icy presence shot down his pathway and back into the amulet. Again the voice sounded in his mind, “Thank you! I am honored to serve one with such a strong will.”

Victor opened his mouth to ask who the fuck was talking to him, but then he clamped it shut. He didn’t know who else might hear, and the voice was definitely inside his head. He was thinking about how he was meant to reply when the voice came again, “I can feel you trying to formulate a response; worry not, I cannot read your mind, though if you think clearly of a statement directed at me, I’ll understand it. As long as you maintain contact with me, that is.”

“Who are you?” Victor clearly “thought” the words, actually picturing them in his mind.

“I am Gorz, a spirit bound to the amulet you hold. When bound, I was given the faculties necessary to perform the duties of a personal attendant and major-domo.” Victor’s mind reeled at the strange voice’s revelation. For a few reasons, he was skeptical and decided to “voice” his concerns.

“What’s a major-domo, and how can you be helpful if you’re an amulet? Also, why the hell were you trying to take over my mind?”

“Ahh, I see you’ve never bonded with an intelligent item before! Sir, I must warn you: when dealing with a bound spirit, there’s always a struggle of wills. No spirit is forever content to remain in its prison, and the instinctual desire to move to a more spacious and self-determining host is not easily resisted. Now that you’ve proven your will is sufficient to contain me, I shall not attempt another such struggle. The duties of a major-domo vary from managing a household, to managing accounts, to keeping track of important facts and dates. As for how I can aid you, my mental faculties are quite acute! My previous master used me for making maps and memorizing texts.”

“Maps?” Victor’s heart began to race.

“Oh yes! My previous master was quite an explorer. I’ve memorized thousands of miles of wilderness, cities, even dungeons!” Victor thought about where he’d found the skeleton with the amulet, and his fingers began to drum with excitement.

“Do you know where you are right now?”

“One moment,” the amulet, always a bit chilly to the touch, surged with coldness for a moment, “Oh, yes. We’re some 1,200 feet above and three point four miles east and south of where my last master perished. I’ve not been to this location before.”

“So your last master didn’t get to that location through the big mining tunnel?”

“No, sir. He accessed the Sheev-nagh ruins through the Barrowdon dungeon.” Again, Victor’s heart sped up.

“There’s more than one way out of the ruins, then?”

“If what you told me is true, I’m aware of at least two, yes!”

“How far is this ‘dungeon’ you mention from where your old master died?”

“Slightly more than thirteen miles through caverns, tunnels, and along an underground river.”

“How long ago did your old master die? And what was his name? I’m tired of calling him your old master.”

“His name was Reevus-dak, and I’m not sure how long. Something more than a hundred years; I’m afraid I slumbered for much of the time in order to maintain my sanity.”

“So, assuming the tunnels and caverns still exist, you could guide me to this ‘dungeon?’ Can you explain the dungeon to me?” Victor had an idea what the spirit meant by dungeon, but he wanted to make sure.

“Of course! If the path exists, I can direct you. As for the dungeon, sir, it was filled with undead denizens ranging in strength from high-tier-two to middle-tier-three. My master, er Reevus-dak, learned of the dungeon from a man named Polro and gained entry by solving a riddle. The entrance was near a village called Steampool Vale—a quaint place with provincial citizens that make a living gathering the minerals near naturally occurring geysers and, well, steam pools.”

“So the ‘dungeon’ is a place filled with monsters?”

“Yes, sir. Someone of your physical nature would definitely consider them to be monsters.”

“And I need to make it through at least thirteen miles of ruins filled with god-knows-what even to enter the dungeon?”

“I’m not familiar with that turn of phrase, but I think I take your meaning, sir. Yes, you’d need to brave the denizens of the deep. My master had an easy time of it at first but met his match, as you no doubt have surmised.”

“Alright, enough with the ‘sir’ and ‘master’ talk. Just call me Victor.”

“Very well, Victor! Thank you! Though please forgive me if I slip; I’m not used to such familiarity.” Victor heard some movement behind him and realized he’d lost track of time and his surroundings while speaking with the spirit.

“Alright, listen. I’m not supposed to have you. Can you dim that light you give off?”

“Of course, Victor. I’ll do my best to remain undetected!”

“Also, can you tell me anything about the ring Reevus was wearing?”

“Naturally, I cataloged all of his belongings. Let’s see, at the time of his death, Reevus was wearing a sunsteel ring and an artificed silver ring of storage.”

“What? I only found the sunsteel ring!”

“During my periods of wakefulness, I was aware that Reevus-dak’s corpse was set upon by scavenging creatures more than once.”

“Well, what does the sunsteel ring do?”

“The sunsteel ring is tremendously sensitive to Energy and can store it with minimal leakage over time. Should you desire to, you would be able to build up a large amount of Energy within it and draw upon it as needed.”

“Alright, I’m going to let go of you now, and I don’t feel safe wearing you, so I’ll just keep you in my pocket.”

“Until we speak again, then, Victor!” Victor let go of the amulet and felt the cool tingling in his hand fade away. He could tell that he’d lost connection to the spirit; there’d been a sense of it in his mind, even after he’d won their contest of wills, and now it was gone. He felt like his entire body was buzzing with the excitement of what he’d learned; there was a way out of this place, and he’d be able to get to it without anyone knowing. They'd assume he was dead if he disappeared in the depths, just like all the delvers he’d already helped bury.

He didn’t think it would be wise to make a break for it right away, though; according to Gorz, the dungeon was filled with tier two and three monsters, and he was still only tier one. Sure, he’d won some pit fights with tier two fighters, but what if he ran into two, three, or fifty higher tier monsters at once? No, he needed to grow stronger, and part of that was figuring out the problem with his Core. He still only had roughly half the Energy he’d had before its fracturing.

Victor closed his eyes and sat the way that Yrella had taught him. It felt like so long ago that she’d teased him about cultivating. Sighing, he turned his mind inward and studied the space where his Core pulsed and slowly revolved. It looked solid and vibrant, filled with the red rage-attuned Energy. Still, there were tiny droplets and pools of white-yellow Energy all around it, and they refused to budge when he tried to cultivate them. Suddenly his eyes sprang open as he had a thought. He reached his hand back into his pocket, gripping the medallion where Gorz resided, and mentally asked, “Hey, Gorz, do you know anything about Cores?”

“Naturally, Victor. I had one when I was alive, and Reevus-dak made me memorize several texts on the subject.”

“What about spirit Cores?”

“Yes, one of the texts I memorized had several chapters on such Cores. What can I help you with, Victor?”

“Alright, a while back, this guy had a tentacled spider dude rip apart my Core. He said he was destroying it, but later, when I looked, the System status screen said it was fractured. I’ve been able to rebuild it partially, but it’s only half as strong as it should be, and I have lots of little pools of Energy around my Core that I can’t seem to cultivate or add to it.”

“Fascinating, Victor! Give me a moment to examine my memory.” The amulet grew cold again; a signal Victor was starting to realize meant it was doing something. A moment later, he heard Gorz’s voice again, “Victor, according to my texts, spirit Cores are highly resilient and difficult to destroy without killing the host entity. Your description of the pools of unattuned Energy around your Core sounds almost like a partial attempt at gaining a second affinity.”

“What do you mean?”

“How many affinities do you have, Victor?”

“Just one—rage.”

“Oh my. Well, when someone with a spirit Core wants more than one affinity, they can split off part of their Core and gather it with the new affinity. It sounds like you had the splitting done for you, but you don’t have the second affinity with which to gather the remnants.”

“Am I screwed then? Can I still get an affinity?”

“Oh, odds are excellent that you have more than one spirit affinity. When you formed your Core, you probably just focused on your strongest one. You need to do some soul-searching and see if you can glean out another strong affinity with which to begin the process of gathering your Core fragments.”

“Any tips on how to do that?”

“Yes! You should meditate and focus on strong emotions and ideals. Be sure to avoid thinking of things that enrage you; you’re trying to find a new affinity, not your existing one!”

“Thanks, Gorz,” Victor thought and then let go of the medallion. He stood up abruptly, too anxious to focus, and looked around the cavern. He saw a few other veterans sitting around the quiet space. They looked to be meditating, and none of them were facing directly at him, so he took a few deep breaths to relax and then sat down again. He cleared his mind and turned his eye inward, watching his Core and the space around it. Another affinity, huh? What did Gorz say? Focus on strong emotions?

Victor concentrated and tried to think of times when he’d been very emotional. It was hard because he kept coming back to times when he’d been angry. The more he struggled to not think of a time when he was angry, the more they kept popping into his head, and the more frustrated he became in the present, which jerked him out of his meditation again and again.

Trying to meditate, Victor struggled with his mind wandering, and at one point, he thought about when he’d been fighting the beetles, thinking everyone was going to be overwhelmed, and then Captain Lam had streaked down on her glittering wings to smash into the horde of creatures. He remembered how his arms had been leaden, his lungs burning, and he’d been on the verge of collapse, but when he saw her start to swing that massive hammer, he’d had a surge of strength, of hope, and he’d begun to believe that they could win. Something made him concentrate on that feeling, that spark that had ignited in his heart and allowed him to keep fighting. What do you call that? Hope? No, it was more than just hope; he’d been inspired. Yes! That was it—inspiration!

Victor zeroed in on the way he’d felt inspired by Captain Lam’s presence, savoring that feeling, not because he was often inspired or inspiring, but because it had had a profound effect on him and his life. When he examined that emotion, he realized he’d felt it before, but not so clearly. He’d been inspired by coaches and older wrestlers when he was new to the team. He’d been inspired by Vullu and how he’d stood up to the asshole pit fighters who wanted a piece of Victor. He’d been inspired by Yrella and how she’d been kind to him regardless of their terrible environment.

The more Victor focused on that feeling, and the more he realized he wanted to be like that, the clearer it became, and then something happened—a warm, tingling spark ignited in the pit of his stomach. Victor turned his attention inward again, stopping the kaleidoscope of memories and images playing across his mind’s eye, and there, pulsing softly next to his hot rage-attuned Core, was a smaller, second star. It shone with a steady white-gold light, and as he watched, one of the tiny Core fragments drifted into it, and it grew just a fraction larger.