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Blacksmith vs. the System 109
🕑 Added 2024-10-12 04:01:00 +0000 UTCI wanted to talk with Terry, but I didn’t approach him for two reasons. First, singling out someone like that in a complicated situation was a bad idea. It already caused problems in my undergrad classes when I was a professor, and the current situation was far more complicated than a classroom.
Also, I wasn’t entirely sure that he would be a good candidate for the task I had in mind yet. I thought he was, but I had the luxury of time, at least until I could reach the next stage, and see if pushing them to Epic level was a viable option.
So, after stopping by Harold and asking him to gather them on the outskirts, I went to the fourth floor again. This time, I didn’t just bring the poisoned water from the swamp, but also the concentrated variants from the condenser, each bucket labeled with the concentration percentages.
“I need to upgrade it,” I said to myself on the way back. The machine was enough for my purposes, but not for two thousand farmers. I could just build up twenty copies to handle the consumption, but optimizing the design with Maria’s help seemed like the much better option.
When I returned, all two thousand of them had been gathered, their expressions ranging from excited to anxious. “There are some changes at the outpost,” I started. “I have never seen a dungeon so beautiful.” Some of them smiled, but even more of them tensed, as if they were afraid that I would follow with some kind of punishment. “Excellent work. Keep it up.”
It was good to see them relax, but the intensity alone was enough to show the extent of their terrible relationship with authority. Not that I blamed them. I partially blamed the System, but an even bigger fault was ours. As humanity, we were following our usual pattern of climbing over the downtrodden, uncaring of what we could achieve if only we were willing to give up a fraction of our selfish desires.
A part of me wanted to talk to them, tell them that they could feel safe here. However, I did not. First of all, I wasn’t entirely sure if that was a promise I could fulfill. The world we lived in was a dangerous place, and for all my improvements, I was still a character at the periphery. Just one person over level hundred would have been enough to demolish everything I had built with ease.
Then, there was the more practical reason. There was nothing that put people more on edge than someone insisting that they were safe, and he could be trusted.
“You know the drill,” I called. “Twenty volunteers first, fill out the surveys, and let’s see how far we can push those skills,” I called.
As they lined up, a hand rose. “Go ahead,” I said.
“S-sir. S-should we join as well?” he asked.
“When you say we you mean..?” I asked.
“T-the ones that failed to upgrade their skills,” he stammered.
“Sure, there’s no harm,” I called. “Just make sure to fill the surveys correctly. And, don’t worry, even if you can’t achieve it, I’ll eventually get Rare skill stones for every single one of you. It’ll just take longer.”
He nodded, as if speaking that had consumed all his willpower. The promise relaxed him, but not significantly. I watched a group of them gather together, noting that they acted significantly meeker than the others.
I noted it down, and wanted to check the surveys accordingly. It might be just about them feeling depressed, or it might be something important.
However, for the moment, I ignored it, and focused on teaching them how to use the different concentrations of poison and fertilizer to improve. With my own experience as a guide, calculating the ideal number of drops and the sequence was trivial. I just needed to solve a partial differential equation to decide which level of concentrate was appropriate for each skill level, optimizing the usage.
The amount that had been accumulated showed that it should be barely enough to bring everyone to Epic, but it was not enough to allow them to develop there. Which seemed like it would be a problem as the first twenty volunteers started to report their success.
Of the twenty, twelve of them managed to upgrade their skill.
“Very good,” I called, even as I started to tackle the latest problem, and how to increase the production of both the fertilizer and the stronger poison concentrates as much as possible. Not that it caused any frustration. It was a very good problem to have.
Unfortunately, it turned out that I got excited prematurely. The first volunteers had managed to achieve the desired rate, for the rest of the eighteen hundred with Rare Nurture, the success rate was slightly more than two percent.
I was disappointed, yet excited at the same time. Disappointed, because a thousand Farmers with Epic skills would unlock so many steps for the future, with great strategic importance.
Excited, because the difference was too big, and the sample was too large for it to be just a statistical glitch. It meant that there was a link between the act of volunteering and the ability to rank up.
“Good performance, everyone,” I called as the fifty farmers that had managed to reach Epic Nurture without skill stones gathered to the side, while the rest looked disappointed. “Now, for the ones that failed to improve, you have a choice. You can choose to upgrade your class and start fighting, or you can choose to delay your progress. You’re free to choose either, with no consequence. Your places in the outpost are not in danger either way.”
It wasn’t the best way to conduct a healthy experiment. A part of me wanted to split them randomly, and assign every single one of them a task. That way, I could conduct a proper blind study.
But, I couldn’t forget that, for them, it was a choice that would permanently affect their lives. And, the least I could provide was to give them a choice. “Don’t be in a hurry to decide,” I called once I realized some of them were panicking. “Even if you want to level up, you can wait until tomorrow.”
“What if we choose to wait, but still can’t improve further, what then?” another asked.
“Nothing,” I said. “There’s absolutely no consequence for delaying. If it changes, I’ll personally help you in your leveling journeys,” I promised.
“What if all of us choose to delay,” one of them said.
I shrugged. “Then you’ll stay here for six months and we work together to understand why it doesn’t work,” I said. “Even then, I’ll help you break through level twenty-five before you leave the dungeon, as long as it is what you want.”
I heard a scoff, one that came from one of the fifty that had managed to reach Epic. It was a woman in her early fifties as far as I could tell. “And, are we supposed to believe that you’re doing all of it for nothing?” she asked.
I couldn’t help but smile at her abrasive tone. Unfortunately, any entertaining answer that I could give was prevented by the presence of two thousand farmers listening to us. Not because I was afraid of a riot or something, but the exact opposite. They flinched in fear and looked at the old lady, like she had just opened the door for a serial killer.
“Of course not,” I said. “I have my own conditions for allowing such freedoms,” I said. “I want you to gather as a group every day, discuss all the new ways you can use Nurture, and write them down,” I said.
Everyone looked surprised. “That’s it?” the woman asked.
“If it’s not, you’ll learn in the future. Now, disperse,” I answered, my voice abrasive, as if she had touched a secret. She did not, nor was I feeling angry. The opposite. Unfortunately, I could see that the rest of the Farmers were panicking.
Claiming that I had some unspecified orders for the future calmed them down.
I could see where they were coming from. Sometimes, the free gifts came at the greatest of costs. I wanted to sit down and explain to them how important their help was for me, and what could be potentially achieved, but I held my mouth. Instead, I acted like I had a hidden agenda.
Though, I paused. Considering I was preparing them to defend the town against some unspecified threat, it was not exactly a lie, was it?
As the rest dispersed, I closed my eyes, doing my best to ignore my guilt. I didn’t want to be responsible for the lives of thousands of people, but yet stupidly, I had already taken that responsibility upon myself. And, now, it was too late to change my mind.
I just needed to do my best.
Once they dispersed, I turned to the fifty that had managed to attain the Epic variant, trying to decide the best way to explain to them how to continue progressing with their skill. The amount of swamp poison and fertilizer wasn’t enough for them to push to the limit of Epic, but any progress they made would be useful.
“I want one thing from all of you,” I said as I looked at them. “Since you have the Epic skill, you’re responsible for the practice groups,” I said. “But, don’t forget to take notes on the process.”
A hand rose. It was Terry. “And, how would we do that, sir?” he asked.
“Good point,” I said. “Pick something to take notes on, and gather around.”
It looked like I was about to give a lecture.
It had been a while.
Comments
Adamas Shield
the persona he use for the farmers is my favorite one^^. I call him 'badass grandpa in my mind' since I do recall his still in disguise + the way he treat them :D
Undead Writer
Thanks for the chapter!
