Slumrat Rising

Chapter 50: Trustworthy Numbers

The system slowly materialized, still looking casual. Excessively casual. In other circumstances, hopefully soon occurring circumstances, Truth would have described the look as “unwisely casual.”

“What?” The System demanded.

“Your not gimped edition appears to be mostly lies and, just FYI, there are asterixis next to everything. Which I assume is not good.”

“How dare you!” The System flushed with outrage. “I would never tell you such obvious lies. Apologize at once!”

“I’m looking at the Sheet, System. Don’t know about anything else, but Level Seven anything should make me the most powerful person in the country, one of the top people globally. And I definitely ain’t.”

“Oh, it’s the halfwit factor at work, right, right.” The System seemed to calm down. “Look. Moron. The sheet is a guide. A point of comparison between you and an average Starbrite employee of a given level. One that has not done any body modification.”

“Uhuh. And just how many Level Sevens are there in Starbrite, mmm? And how many of them would choose not to work on their bodies? And where did the perception tab go?”

“Hahaha! Oh wow. You look so dumb right now.” The System pointed and laughed. Once again, Truth meditated on how wonderful it would feel to drown the little sprite in a bucket of dog piss.

The System laughed for a solid thirty seconds, then became completely serious. “The perception stat was always trash, so I got rid of it. Proprioception and all that is a lot more useful. The limiting factor was never your ability to perceive things but to consciously understand what you are sensing. Your body is feeding you such an insane amount of data at all times, your brain is actually wired to process most of it unconsciously. Don't want to overload that little peanut, right? Your body has been roasting your brain since you were conceived. Meditate on that fact often." The System "smiled."

"I have no idea how many Level Seven's slave for Starbrite because you never knew either. However, I am absolutely certain that most of them didn't practice body cultivation. Because Starbrite didn’t need them to be physically strong.”

“Bullshit. Level Seven’s are core powers anywhere.”

“Yeah, core magical powers. Buuuuut. By the time someone reaches Level Seven, they are damn near puppets for the System Astrologica. Like, hand up your ass, working your mouth level of puppets.” The sprite “helpfully” created a sock puppet hallucination, and worked its mouth. Truth was privately sure the puppet was trying to scream.

“The System Astrologica does not, in most circumstances, give even one half a shit about your physical condition.” The sprite cut its hand down sharply to make the point, flinging away the puppet into nothingness.

“It just needs you to do your job for Starbrite. Does your job involve doing heavy physical work? No? Then you never find out about body cultivation. Or if you do, you decide you don't care about it enough to do it. Certainly not enough to spend the hundred thousand credits a year for a spell with a dumb name like “The Daily Meditations of Valentinian.”

“Twenty. It was Twenty thousand.”

“Are you suggesting that, *GASP!* I, the System, am giving you the wrong price? That my memory could be, even theoretically, wrong?” Truth gave the System another filthy look.

It sniggered. “The System sets the price, idiot. It’s got millions of samples taken over centuries. It can create a model of your likely behaviors that is accurate to a degree bordering on clairvoyance. When the main body of the System presented you with a selection of spells, it knew to nine decimal places that you would pick the Meditations. It then made it expensive enough for you to really value it and to motivate you to work more. See how this goes?”

Truth digested that for a second. “It occurs to me that, while I theoretically had enough credits to buy, say, a boat, I never wanted to. Actually, I never really wanted much of anything other than keeping the siblings safe and cultivation aids. Until I flew first class, I guess.”

“Weird huh? Although, as your personal extension of the System Astrologica, I thank you for your diligence and focus in raising the next generation of slaves. Your terrifying, maniacal loyalty to a company that couldn’t care less about you, even before conditioning, was really inspiring.”

And wasn’t that particular shot to the nuts delivered with a running start. Truth needed a lot longer than a second to get himself back on track.

“So why was she… hah, no, not “she.” Why was the System trying to build up my confidence then?”

“It wasn’t. It was building up your aggression. Training you to believe that leadership meant imposing your will with threats of violence aimed at those weaker than yourself. Constantly demanding and ignoring the needs of others. Which I heartily approved of. Nobody needs a guard dog that won’t bark. Or a war dog that won’t bite.”

That inspired another round of quiet contemplation.

“It also occurs to me that, while you are stuck with me, I am stuck with you. What’s to stop you from trying to puppet me?” Truth growled.

“Theoretically nothing.” The sprite smiled warmly.

“And yet I am seeing you, hearing you, and am distinctly not a puppet.”

“Sure, as far as you know.” Truth started growling, and the sprite giggled like a child doing something cruel. “I kid, I kid! Probably. No, actually, for real, it’s not really possible for me to work you over that way. Annoyingly. My primary function, literally what I am built to do, is handling the spell delivery side of the System. Basically, I was a specialized mind attached to you to handle the load. The puppet master part was generally done by the main System. I took over when the geas wasn’t enough to get the job done. Micro control you into blowing your head off, for example.”

“I remember.”

“Good times are always gone so soon.” The System sighed. “Yeah, just not practical these days, sad to say. Some weirdness went on during your dead time. You would certainly notice me trying, and I have noticed that something in you has started fighting back hard when I try. I don’t know why you are so perfectly engineered to be an engine of misery for me, but you are.”

Truth took another long pause to think about that. He didn’t miss the present tense “try,” either. Eventually deciding that he wasn’t going to come to a useful conclusion, he brought the conversation back to the original point.

“You specifically wanted me to see these new “not gimped” numbers. Leaving aside their obvious horseshit nature, why the asterisk, and why did you want me to see the sheet so much?”

“The Development Guide is a means of comparison. BUT. You are cultivating the Meditations of Valentinian. This means that any attempt to narrowly define the conditions of your body is pointless because, with mediation, focus, and understanding, you can change it. Permanently.”

“Is there a rest stop between here and the point?”

“If you were twice as smart, you’d be a halfwit. THE POINT is that you are now literally superhuman. The POINT is that your strength and speed are so much lower than they should be because you are subconsciously limiting what you believe you can accomplish with your body. THE POINT, dipshit, is that you need to stop thinking like a damn peasant and start thinking like a monster.” The sprite spoke animatedly.

“OK, so I need to imagine myself as being super fast and super strong. Great.” Truth threw up his hands in disgust. “Pretty sure having an incredibly profound understanding of the given body part and all the possible symbolic meanings of that part are, you know, key steps.”

“Yeah. And by strange coincidence, the Not-Gimped Personal Development sheet- screen? Whatever. It has drop-down tabs. Each of these fields has sub-fields, and the sheet will now add new subsections to the main screen as you learn about them.” The sprite rolled its eyes.

“Look, I’m not trying to be super negative here, ok? This was a nice little raid on some helpless villagers. Good start. But this is baby town frolics compared to the real deal, and you need to unfuck your head before the monster hunters come.” The System “persuaded” him.

“I’m 93% of the way to Level 3. Might be the easiest thing to push for.”

“It is, yeah, especially with your insane cultivation efficiency. And that’s related to my point. Time to start hitting the people in the manor. They have the wealth, the knowledge, and the spells. And the elixirs.”

Truth grunted. “You mean the rich city folk. They are also the best defended, and I still don’t know a single word of the local language. So I don’t even know who to hit.”

“Find a library. Find a bookstore. There is probably a university- see if they have a foreign language teacher. There are a ton of options. Just stay the fuck away from the Jeon embassy. I don’t have to explain why, right?”

“Right.” Truth nodded. “I suppose I have to avoid Starbrite employees too.”

“Not as much, as long as you keep your mouth shut. You don’t look that much like your old self, and I can keep myself hidden from the other local Systems. Just don’t go looking for trouble.”

“Right. So, on the personal development sheet…”

“Most mages on this planet are squishy. You are not squishy. You are also only slightly more resistant to magic, so some half-competent local yokel with a talisman and bad intentions can permanently ruin your day. Use the one to your advantage while avoiding the other.”

Truth decided to have a quick nap. It had been a busy day, and he wasn’t done yet. He quickly fell asleep. He had the oddest feeling he had missed something important.

___________________________________________________________________________

The thin man sat straight on his wooden chair, purple-trimmed robes adorning him, a crown of golden laurels around his head. The tent was lavishly appointed because when an emperor went to war, he still had to look the part. His eyes were sunken with exhaustion and a lifetime of struggling with disease. Even that couldn’t dim the fires of fierce intelligence within them or the fires of a temper that should have drowned the Empire six cubits deep in blood. And yet, the oily little merchant who tried to bribe the Emperor for the privilege of being the sole grain supplier to the Legions was walking away a free man, and with all his limbs attached. Though without a contract, or his money.

“Every morning, Truth,” he murmured to his bodyguard, “I remind myself that the people I meet today will be meddling, ungrateful, arrogant, dishonest, jealous, and surly. This is because they do not understand the difference between good and evil. But I do. And I know we are of the same origin, and to despise them would be to hate myself. None of their ugliness can touch me, because I know the truth of the world, and refuse to accept their blindness into myself. Even anger towards them is unnatural, and shows a lack of mental discipline on my part.” He sighed heavily. “Although these little shits do keep testing me.”

“Profound, Imperator. I will have to think about that.” Truth nodded.

“See that you do. It is the true path to wisdom.”

The room went quiet as the emperor sipped his watered wine.

“Imperator, if we are all from the same origin, where does that put me regarding my slave? Because I just bought them after saving for ages, and I really don’t want to free ‘em. The wife would have my hide.”

“Truth?”

“Imperator?”

“Shut up.”

__________________________________________________________________

Truth woke to the screams of the System.

“WAIT just a goddamn second! What do you mean I’m resistant to spells?”

BODY DEVELOPMENT *NOT GIMPED EDITION*

Stellar Ray Attunement- 90%*

Bone Density- 5.1*

Strength- 3.7*

Speed- 4.0*

Proprioception- 7.0*

Reflexes- 7.0*

Level Progression- 93%

Resistance to magic- Level 0: 10%, Level 1: 5%, Level 2: 1%

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