Chapter 6: Bad Idea

I…

I have no idea what any of this is.

I'm fairly certain ‘Grimbark’ doesn't exist on earth.

“And what the fuck is ‘Strong Water’?!”

I see a few materials I understand. I know brimstone, that is the archaic term for sulfur. And mercury is just mercury. I swish the liquid metal back and forth inside its vial. It couldn't be anything else, it's not like it's the Roman God.

Right?

Some of the things in this material storage are either incredibly outdated or just don't exist on my planet, but oddly enough some things have modern chemical notation. Something labeled “CH3OOH”, another labeled “Me2CO”, and one liquid in a psuedo-spray bottle hanging off the table labeled “Disinfectant - EtOH” which I thankfully recognize as ethanol.

The whole thing is infuriatingly anachronistic— but I suppose if this is the afterlife, any new souls would bring some of their modern knowledge with them, so the sciences in this place must be all over the map.

Not to mention that other species and planets are bringing along their knowledge and elements. One material is labeled “NH3—” and then a symbol I can only describe as an ant. I'm tryna read fuckin’ heiroglyphics over here.

I'm no chemist. What little I've read about this stuff was just enough to understand the basics and do some cool shit.

That being said, I've made a few bombs for the gang over the years, both for professional and recreational use, so I know a few options.

Black powder, the bootleg version of gunpowder, is just sulfur and saltpeter with charcoal as an oxidizer to let it burn. I've got sulfur, and charcoal in the other room. No saltpeter.

A pressure bomb is easy to make, ya get a crock pot and some nails and you're almost done, but most of the damage of that type of bomb comes from fragmentation and shrapnel. Not good for demolition.

Thermite would burn right through the door, and all that takes is rust and some aluminum shavings. But looking at the materials, a few of these are metals, but none of them look like aluminum. Or, moreso, a bunch do, and I can't tell them apart.

If I had nitric acid I could make all kinds of explosives. Nitroglycerin– the stuff in dynamite– for example. Or silver fulminate. But if I had nitric acid I wouldn't be able to recognize it, cuz everything here is written in schizo code.

Painstakingly examining everything on the desk from left to right, looking for anything I recognize, I turn back to that covered cage I saw when I first entered.

The cage is the size and shape of a bird cage, like any you'd get from a pet store, and a white cloth is draped over it like how you would put a parrot to sleep.

Being smart and taking a Pokin’ Stick™, I give the cage a little boop. It doesn't start violently shaking and snarling, so with clumsy effort I snag an edge of the cloth with my stick, and slowly lift it.

On the floor of the cage is a cleaned human skull lying on its side. Somehow the mandible is still attached despite me not seeing any adhesives.

As the light hits it and I lean in to get a better look, something in the empty eye sockets begins to flicker, then glow. Like dying embers.

The skull begins to stutteringly open and close its jaw. So, an undead test subject of some sort.

“I'll blow you up later.” I say, dropping the cloth back on the cage. I did promise to put the undead outta their misery, but I'm not gonna waste the effort of crushing it when I can just blow it up with the door. Two birds, one bomb.

Finally, at the very end of the desk is a basin and a bottle, with a sign above that reads “emergency health potion.”

“Huh, fantasy eyewash station.” I say, picking up the bottle.

“I wonder if it's taken orally or applied topically?”

I shrug, and take a small sip.

After immediately spitting it out and gargling some Gross Tea™ to remove the taste of a fish's unwashed asshole, I come to a conclusion.

“Yep—” I cough. “Definitely a topical.”

Slowly, painfully, I peel the blue dress from my arm, feeling the dried blood sticking it to my skin and pulling the wounds back open.

Quickly, I mete out a few drops onto each cut, trying to conserve the potion. A strange hot sensation, almost to the point of burning, spreads along the inflamed flesh of the cuts, then the flesh slowly grows in one layer at a time, leaving a faint scar.

“Where have you been all my life?”

Out of curiosity, I dab some on one of my old scars, but nothing happens. Good to know. Likely means this only speeds up the natural healing process, so won't work on illness or infection.

With the dress in my hand I notice it's still stained with my blood, which is strange as the other dirt just fell off no problem. Shaking the dress out a little bit, a few bits of dried blood flake off, and I see the stains peeling up at one end.

It would seem the anti-stain feature takes a little time to work. Who needs a washing machine?

I should probably still wash it though. I got it from a corpse.

Hanging the dress up to dry, I turn back to the desk and notice that during my distraction with the cage and health potion, one of the lizards took the opportunity to try and steal the journal. Probably Ted Kaszynski, that scamp.

“Hey!”

My shout startles it, and it clumsily tries to fly off before realizing that the book is too heavy, and it drags it across the desk.

I play a short game of tug-of-war before retrieving the book, and am promptly hissed at and tail-whipped by this lizard.

I sigh.

Guess it's time to do some research.

***

With a flick of my fingers another spitball flies and is quickly intercepted by one of the flying lizards, eagerly awaiting their next pre-chewed snack.

I tear off two more chunks from a manual on how to cultivate rare and exotic fungi, raise one to my lips to form another spitball, and the other goes to the sleepy mail-based domestic terrorist resting atop my head.

Ted chirps at me after taking the scrap paper, clearly wanting more.

“Hey, ya can't eat your cake and have it too.” I say around the forming spitball, and chuckle at my incredibly niche joke.

I've been pouring through this library for about two hours. Most of it is fascinating. Some information about “The Wider World” can be gleaned even in the more irrelevant texts, just from how they're written and what they reference.

“The Wider World” I've learned, is what they call the nigh-infinite realm that awaits all who reach tier 2 in the Game of Gods. Apart from a bit of nomenclature in use in The Wider World– and how to cultivate a Psychic Mudshroom– I've also learned one very important tidbit from a bookmarked text likely used in the creation of that mana conduit stuff.

Flicking another spitball and watching two lizards nearly collide midair trying to catch it, I recall in perfect detail the information I read, and mentally summarize it.

Mana, as is evidenced by my new skill [Lesser Mana Well], is an actual thing, but unique to the Game of Gods. It is unaffiliated by default but can be naturally or synthetically changed or bonded to a few concepts in certain areas or objects. Fire mana at a volcano, death mana at the site of a slaughter, storm mana in the middle of a hurricane, etc.

These different types are very useful for the creation of related objects or spells, but the incredibly important bit is one outlier type of mana.

When a spell is cast, it draws from mana within the caster, or in the case of a ritual, some other source. The caster has an internal reservoir and slowly takes in more to fill it. When the caster expends that mana from their reservoir, it doesn't just get used up. No, it changes into a type called entropic mana, or waste mana. Entropic mana is a type that's completely unusable in spellcraft– though apparently many have tried.

Waste mana is slowly processed within your body, and replaced with usable mana. If you have too much waste mana, such as if you'd just been casting several [Magic Missiles] into a flaming undead viking, you become incredibly sick. This is called mana sickness or mana poisoning.

So, that explains why I passed out in a puddle of my own vomit earlier.

Apparently you can also get it from forcibly taking in more usable mana than your reservoir can handle, such as by drinking a bunch of mana potions. Unfortunately, it seems the only way to increase the size of your mana well is by straining it. It's a bit like exercising a muscle. So, looks like I'll be getting sick again, though hopefully I won't need to go nearly as far.

Flicking another spitball, I stand to put back my book and find a new one, disturbing Ted Kaszynski and causing the sleepy lizard to flap away angrily.

I look through the undamaged texts.

Carcini meditations— no.

Moonlit rituals— nuh-uh.

Giant spiders of the Dying Vale— nope!

Elven great-trees in alchemy— promising.

I begin searching the index of the book for anything on Grimbark when I notice another book being fought over by two of the library lizards.

Fundamental spells for any specialty.

The tree-book snaps shut, and is unceremoniously tossed over my shoulder. Much to the chagrin of any arborists, I think doing actual magic is far more interesting than reading about trees.

After 3 laps of chasing a flying lizard around the library, and nearly toppling a bookcase after having to climb it, I finally have the book in hand.

I fall 12 feet to the floor with an “oof!” and all the air is knocked out of my lungs. Gasping for several seconds and glaring at a lizard looking down at me with schadenfreude, I crack open the book without even bothering to sit up.

Nearly all of it is torn apart and eaten. What remains is a few pieces of diagrams, some half finished sentences, and a lot of irrelevant exposition on why the spells are important.

“Why yes, [Scholar Magus] Golblack, I agree that these spells would be essential to learn. If only I could learn them!”

Finally, I find a spell with at least half of its pages intact: [Identify]

I read voraciously, having to infer a few sentences from where the pages had been nibbled on.

I feel myself drifting, tunnel visioning in focus. The world falls away as the words become ideas, and I forget I'm even reading.

You have to understand what it is. Everything it is. Where it came from, where it is now, what it can be. Every concept and idea that comprises its form, from the most basic to the inscrutable. An apple is red, what does it mean to be red? An apple ripens, what does it mean to grow?

The more you know, the less you must learn magically. Use context clues, where di—

It cuts off.

I am aghast, slackjawed, and almost insulted by not being able to finish it. I am about to scream in frustration when I feel something. Something in me begins working, almost like when you've finally got the technique of an exercise right, and only the specifically targeted muscle group is activating. But, this isn't something physical. It is in me but it isn't within my body.

I feel the [One-eyed] skill activate.

Modified spell learned: [Eye-dentify] (tier 1)

What I receive is a pun.

The half-finished understanding of the spell blurs and stretches. It's still incomplete, but functional. I gain a vague understanding of its effects and uses. Using this modified version of the [identify] spell, I can gain a decent understanding of its target. Not complete, but enough to get the gist. It isn't restricted to just objects, but can be used on texts, and even Skills! The more I know about the target, the easier it is to cast the spell, and vice-versa.

Curious, confused, and mildly concerned, I begin the process of casting [Eye-dentify] targeting my [One-eyed] skill.

I instinctively take a meditative stance, relaxing completely, and look within.

Oh.

Oh god damnit!

Turns out, the [One-eyed] skill is unique to those who lived their mortal lives with one eye, enough for the idea of them having one eye to become a part of their soul. Fundamental to them. It also applies to those who take a devastating injury in the game, where they are hurt to the point that their very soul lacks the eye. Like a metaphysical scar. Things that regenerate lost body parts won't regrow the eye, and if it is replaced with a synthetic one I lose the skill. What the skill actually does however, is a bit of a mixed bag.

I am far more vulnerable to blinding effects, I suppose since they’d only have to blind the one eye. But, as a trade-off I will be able to learn modified, slightly less effective versions of eye-based spells with half the effort.

“I have no idea if [One-eyed] will allow me to one day learn the full version of [Identify] but… this skill isn't bad.”

I sigh.

“Just, a little offensive.”

With no more use for the book, I toss it to the lizards gathered to beg for snacks. Then, I walk back to the alchemy bench, with the intention to identify some ingredients.

“Okay, I can't identify everything or I'll make myself mana-sick again. Gotta be strategic about which ones I need to identify the most.”

My eye scans over the bottles, bags, and jars, taking in the fantastical ingredients from other worlds. My eye settles on one less-than-impressive glass bottle. It's not even glowing or floating or anything cool like that but…

“Alright, I've gotta know what ‘Strong Water’ is.”

I cast [Eye-dentify].

“Oh, nitric acid. I can build a bomb.”

I doubt my bootleg version of [Identify] will be able to tell me which of the plant samples on the table have glycerol in them, and I don't think I have the materials to build a shitty centrifuge to separate it from the plant mush so, dynamite is off the table.

That leaves silver fulminate. I've got the nitric acid, I've got the ethanol, all I need is some silver and a container for the reaction.

My head drifts to my right, to the silver teapot.

A grin cracks my face.

***

The hammering scatters the lizards as I flatten and bend the spout of the teapot to close it.

Crouching behind the barricade of toppled bookcases I have set up, I test the weight of the teapot in my hand, then check the sightline of the barricade to the door.

Silver fulminate is an unstable and volatile reaction, it doesn’t need to be ignited. Friction, impact, or heat will set it off. So, I just gotta put it all in the teapot, and toss it.

Vessel properly shaped, I give it a test throw, to make sure I’m close enough to hit the door, but far enough I don't become collateral damage. Two of the lizards flap after the teapot, probably thinking I'm tossing them another pre-chewed morsel, but shriek and scatter when the teapot clatters against the door. It rolls just past the jawing undead skull left next to the wall. A promise to blow up a skull made, is a promise to blow up a skull kept.

I pump my arm in excitement. “Direct hit! Just gotta compensate for the added weight on the real one.”

I double-check my belongings. The scorched shortsword is safely set down behind the barricade. I wanted to put it in the waistband of the silk boxers, but that seemed like a good way to get cut somewhere I don't want to get cut.

On my left is the blue dress, tied up into a hobo bindle around a stick. I decided I'd pack away all the alchemy ingredients to [Eye-dentify] later, as I should save my mana for whatever is behind that door. I tied it all up in the dress, with some torn pages to use as padding, in the hopes that it'll keep the fragile bottles from breaking and exploding while I’m carrying it. I also kept the silver saucer and teacup. Mostly because, ya know, they're silver. You steal that shit. But also in case I wanna make silver fulminate impact grenades later.

I retrieve the teapot from the floor, and head back to my makeshift observation bunker. With my ethanol and “strong water” (nitric acid) at the ready, I mentally review and check if there's anything else I might need to do. Thinking of nothing, I instead start making the bomb.

I don’t know the ratio of nitric acid to ethanol, but you can’t go wrong with a 1:1. Setting a small loosely-sealed glass bottle of the nitric acid within the teapot, I pour an equal amount of ethanol around it. When the teapot impacts, the bottle should either break or spill, causing the reaction and subsequent explosion.

I carefully, carefully, stand, holding the teapot in both hands. I lean back with one arm, and huck it at the door before diving down to take cover.

Time seems to slow as I peek through a small hole in my barricade. Then, time crawls as I watch the teapot spin towards the door and the skull. Then, time stops as I watch one of the winged serpentine lizards fly up and try to catch the bomb mere feet from the door, like a game of fetch.

When the lizard gets absolutely bodied by the hefty teapot, I have a single moment before I cause a massive explosion in a small sealed room full of flammable items and silly critters to think;

This was a bad idea.

The world goes bright.

Then, the world goes dark.

***

Level-up!

Tier 1 [Mage], Level 2 ⸺ Tier 1 [Mage], Level 3

Familiar tamed: Ted Kacynski, [Bookwyrm]

Skill learned: [Jury-rigged Alchemy] (active)

Skill earned: [Tool proficiency: Pokin’ Stick™] (passive)

Familiar lost: Ted Kacynski, [Bookwyrm]