Chapter 237: The Bread Box (Patreon)

Author's note: I altered the number of 'fae' present last chapter to make the trick less obvious and it fell within the realm of things that were possible for the necromancer to do: Instead of one of the fae being conspicuously missing, he made a regular undead look like the fae, so the lack of numbers wasn't immediately noticed. just changed a couple numbers and the last 2 sentences last chapter. no big change, but hopefully it works better.Five minutes earlier.

This newest master is certainly more dangerous than the last one. Keeney thought as he floated through space, his knees drawn up to his chest in order to make himself as small as possible.

Typically one does not make the advisor personally perform the plans that he advises, alone…but it is a fairly efficacious way of ensuring my commitment to it’s success.

There was no one to blame and no excuses. It would make it very hard to slip in a betrayal or two without it being traced directly back to him.

Hard, but not impossible.

Keeney wasn’t a fighter. Although he could fight, it was history, tactics, language, and culture that interested him. Both while he was alive, and his current cursed existence as the extention of some gaudy jewelry.

Presuming he had ever had a life beforehand, like the others believed.

Keeney wasn’t entirely sure he had existed before the set. He suspected that his personality was an amalgamation of traits necessary to create an intellectual fae, scraped from the wailing souls of the damned.

So maybe he had existed before…as bits and pieces of trivia and special interests in various doomed fae.

Keeney would love to pore through the census on the 9th Floor or speak to the survivors of the massacre to see if there had been anyone of his description in Kincaid’s castle at the time of his destruction, but sadly the set’s owner’s goals never aligned with learning that knowledge.

Today’s mission: Sneak into the Stronghold and sow chaos while Master and the other six acted as a distraction.

It had been Keeney who suggested he use Necrotic Balm to change the appearance of an undead to match one of theirs, allowing his free-thinking undead to flank them undetected.

As they had become accustomed to, Master had taken a simple idea and extended it beyond the moral or rational.

Keeny touched his ears again, unable to get entirely comfortable with not feeling the familiar points.

The rest of his face and body had been altered, removing his dignified bearing and giving him the appearance of a simple dockworker.

A naked dockworker.

Keeney felt gravity grab hold of him as he began accelerating rapidly.

Keeney peeked past the shield of constellation-flesh disguising him as part of the starry void.

Here we go…

At the last second, Keeney kicked the hemispherical shield away from his body, landing far away from the black slab of meat while cradling his sack full of eggs.

He climbed to his feet and slung the sack of norworm eggs over his shoulder, studying his position.

He was on the Stronghold, but he was on the wrong side. He’d landed on the lower portion of residential 3, which had been painted with constellation blood to make it disappear against the background of void.

As expected, the place was empty. The residents had been evacuated.

I need to find something to wear and get out of here, as soon as possible.

Keeney broke into a nearby building, finding a trunk full of dirty clothes that stank of sweat and acrid smoke.

In the nearby closet were a pair of clean clothes.

Sighing, Keeny put on the dirty clothes.

Body odor wasn’t something he had anymore, so smelling rank would sell his disguise better than freshly laundered clothes.

Doesn’t mean I have to like it, though.

As he was leaving the house, adjusting to the itchy wool and tucking the small sack of eggs in his belt, he spotted a metal breadbox on the kitchen counter.

Inside was a new loaf of bread. Quite the luxury for a dockworker, and the man was probably kicking himself for not bringing it with him into the evacuation.

But that wasn’t what Keeney was focused on.

The bread was soft, with a pure white interior, made by someone with a Class for it, seemingly.

It’s perfect. A message just vague enough to slip past the Master.

Keeney picked up the breadbox and slung it under his arm before marching out of the abandoned house.

Besides, irrational behavior like sneaking into a restricted zone to get your breadbox was charmingly human. between the smell and the bread under his arm, no-one would expect him to be fae.

“You there!” Keeney froze as a voice called out to him.

“What are you doing out here!?” a guard demanded, striding towards him.

“…bread.” Keeney said, pointing at the bread box.

POW! The armored man struck Keeney over the head, forcing Keeney to desperately rein in his flame aura. This is not battle, this is a conversation.

“You fool, everyone’s being evacuated to residential one! Get your ass to the staircase and make your way to the shelters!” The guard said, pointing.

“Right away sir!” Keeney said, adopting the man’s accent. West ring, if my ears are to be trusted.

The guard relaxed just a hair more as Keeney bustled away in the direction the man had pointed.

In a matter of minutes he found the staircase and made his way to the other side of the island, experiencing minor nausea as the orientation of gravity flipped suddenly.

There were clear markings where it would happen though, so he wasn’t surprised.

Keeney joined the flow of people in residential one streaming into a handful of vaults dug into the crystal. Not everyone here was level 50 or even close to it. Dockworkers generally didn’t need to be level 50, and getting them guided to an Advanced class wasn’t worth it.

After a certain amount of strength, more wasn’t particularly helpful with lifting cargo, because of scale.

In theory, these men could go out and try their hand at slaying monsters for experience, but realistically, most of them would die. They were too average.

Just like Lords were those who had stumbled across high stat growth and outrageous Class synergies, laborers were the vast majority of individuals who hadn’t been quite so lucky.

Keeney joined the flow of low-level laborers as they were herded into the vaults for safekeeping. The anthropologist inside him was fascinated by the interaction between the guards (island-hoppers, the laborers called them) and the laborers. There was a clear stratification of society based simply on combat potential.

The island-hoppers were those just strong enough to fight 11th floor monsters, but without that special sauce that makes a Lord.

That special sauce being a proficiency for killing other Climbers.

The island hoppers took on more risk, and acquired more personal power and wealth, and therefore felt like they had the right to treat dockworkers poorly. Keeney didn’t entirely disagree with that attitude. More risk demanded more reward, but they didn’t have to be rude about it.

Rough hands shoved him into the shelter, where Keeney managed to peel himself away from the flow of dockworkers and lean up against the wall beside an emaciated dockworker.

In the distance, he could hear faint explosions as Master engaged with Zodiac’s defenses.

“There’s food further in, if you’re hungry,” The emaciated dockworker said, glancing up at Keeney from where he was squatting.

“Keeney.” Keeney said, offering his free hand. Humans of this era expected a handshake and introductions.

“Reese.” The emaciated man said, taking Keeney’s hand and pulling himself to his feet. “Y’know, it’s funny, I was in here just yesterday, and…” He paused, staring at Keeney, his eyes wide. “Shit, wrong shelter. Damn.”

Eh?

“Listen, can you do me a solid?” Reese said, lowering his voice and leaning in close.

Do me a solid? Keeney thought. The expression was extremely anachronistic and out of the modern lexicon, but it meant ‘do a favor’.

“Eh? If you’re wanting some bread, I’ll have to refuse. I’ve got a purpose for it.” Keeney replied, clutching his breadbox possessively.

“When you get around to doing your thing here, can you skip me? Please?” Reese asked, his hands pressed together in supplication.

“…What do you think I’m here to do?” Keeney asked. if he still had a heartbeat it would’ve skyrocketed.

Reese glanced down at the sack of eggs on Keeney’s belt. That glance alone was more than enough.

“Well, you’re-” Keeney slapped a hand over his mouth. If Reese did not say it, then he could deny to Master that anyone had discovered his purpose. Plausible deniability.

How does he know? Is this some kind of prophet or seer? No, the anachronism. An Immortal…Who is also a seer? The anthropologist inside Keeney desperately wanted to get Reese’s full story. It was like a thick juicy steak had fallen in front of a starving dog.

But no, this starving dog has other things he needs to accomplish. He can’t stop here.

“What would you do?”

“Pretty much anything.” Reese said, groveling hard in front of him.

“Can you deliver a message?”

“Absolutely. What’s the message?” Reese asked.

Keeney handed Reese the bread box.

“…huh?” Reese asked with a frown.

Keeney punched the metal bread box, hard, doubling the emaciated dockworker over and sending him tumbling into the sea of people flowing into the emergency shelter.

“HEY!” a guard shouted, standing on his tiptoes to see over the crowd.

A single, armored hand erupted from the crowd and pointed at Keeney.

“Stay right there!”

Keeney stayed right where he was. A minute later, two guards grabbed him by the arms, punched him in the stomach a couple times before dragging him off through a restricted door.

This is not a fight. This is a social interaction. Don’t let the aura out.

They tossed him into an isolated stone cell.

“We haven’t got time for dock scum starting fights,” the nearest guard said, placing a kick into Keeney’s face, cutting his lip on his own teeth.

Keeney felt the blazing blood flooding his mouth and once more he stuffed the fire aura deep down inside. Almost time. Almost.

“Wait.” Keeney rasped as the first guard left, while the second took the opportunity to get in an extra kick.

“Get fu-“

Keeney leapt to his feet with an egg in hand, shoving it into the man’s mouth, keeping his jaw closed with his palm while the other one wrapped behind the man’s head, keeping him from pulling away.

“MMM!”

The guard drew his dagger and shattered the blade against Keeney’s ribs. He dropped the broken blade and tried to pry Keeney’s hands away from his face, but the fae was far stronger than a simple island-hopper, his grip stronger than steel.

Sensing a warm, wet environment, the egg hatched.

Blood gushed out of the guard’s nose and his eyes rolled back in his head as the newly born norworm followed Its instincts, burrowing through the guard’s sinuses and into his brain.

After a few seconds of violent thrashing, the newborn had the guard under control, his eyes returning to focus, expression calm.

Keeney took his hand away from the guard’s mouth.

“…Who are you?” The newborn asked.

“I’m working for your father.” Keeney said.

Also trying to kill him.

“Are you-“

“Shhh…we don’t have time for questions.” Keeney said, wiping the blood form the man’s face with his sleeve. “Bring me the other guard.”

“…Okay.” The newborn said, turning on his heel and awkwardly stumbling back out.

“What’s wrong?” The second guard’s voice came from the hallway. “you look like somebody rung your bell. Did that dock rat get a hit in on you?”

“Yes...Let’s teach him a lesson.” The newborn said.

A moment later the second guard stormed into the room, fire in his eyes and a will to punish Keeney for slighting him…somehow.

The newborn grabbed his arms from behind.

“Hey what’s – MMMM!” Keeney shoved another egg into the guard’s mouth.

**Reese**

“Uuugh, that sucked,” Reese groaned, arms wrapped around the metal bread box as several nearby laborers lifted him up and brushed off the dust, asking if he was alright.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Reese groaned, staggering over to the wall where he could take a breather while his ribs rearranged themselves.

He wasn’t immortal because he had high Resistance. Far from it. He was nearly as weak as a regular person. No, the System itself would not allow him to die, and that included repairing massive internal bleeding.

His outside looked fine, but his squishy organs were…squishy.

What message?  Reese thought, studying the dented breadbox in his grasp.

He opened the breadbox, expecting to find a letter or some kind of mysterious artifact…but it was just bread.

A soft white bread that had been flattened against the breadbox’s walls by the sudden impact of the man’s punch.

What…the…hell? Reese thought.

“What kind of dumbass message is this?” Reese complained aloud. “And who the hell am I supposed to deliver it to anyway?”

Well, knowing how this goes, it’s probably supposed to go to William Oh.

…Kinda hungry though. Reese thought, taking a bite of the flattened bread as he watched a guard who was slightly unsteady on his feet request that another one come and assist him in the holding cells.