Dressed to Kill 8 (Patreon)

I dreamt I was a human shaped spider; from a ball of yarn in my hands, threads spread out in all directions. They wrapped around my mom, around Sandy, around Gerald, and even around the priest. Out of all of them, he didn’t struggle. He leaned forward, bound in a coccoon of web, and then his face changed to my fathers from my old life.

“I thought you would be — ”

“Gwen?” My mother’s voice interrupted me. 

The dream flickered away in the way that dreams do, like memories that had overstayed their welcome, dissolving into dust. I groaned and opened my eyes. It was already light out, the light filtering through the patterned curtains that segmented the room.

“I slept in again.” I said, forcing myself up out of bed.

“Are you up?” Mom asked.

“I’m coming.” I said. She shut the door, and I made my way for already cold breakfast.

Mom sat across from me again, her face set in a frown. I avoided her gaze while I ate. She put her hand to my forehead unprompted.

“Are you feeling alright, love?”

“Do I have a fever?” I asked.

“No.” She said, pulling her hand away.

I chewed on my food, thinking of a response to ward off the incoming inquiries. She couldn’t know I was hunting monsters. It wouldn’t do to hurt her by having her think I’m in danger; not until I’m strong enough to prove that there is no danger to me.

“I’m just tired. I’ve been hanging out with Sandy a lot.”

“You can invite her over, you know.”

“The house is crowded enough.”

“We will have more space when we move to a city.” She said.

I put my fork down. She wrung her hands.

“I’m almost at my next level.”

“Good! Good, my light.”

The tension between me and my mom never resolved throughout the day. We worked for hours until lunch, only talking occasionally in awkward back and forths spat in a few words. But she didn’t understand — couldn’t understand. I couldn’t explain to her that I had no plans on moving and was risking my life killing monsters every day for minimal reward.

Every few minutes, I looked to the door, waiting for Sandy to knock.

I used more of my mana today. The first floor held only four wolves, so I used five of my total mana, I had to get levels somehow. By the time the sun set and we exhausted our stack of supplies, my experience was already at nine. We completed total of nine outfits complete out of an order of twenty-four; we still needed to speed up if we wanted to meet our noble’s deadline.

I leveled up again after the third oufit, debating over my choices. The Inventory skill for the Seamstress class reappeared — Warddrobe I. I grabbed it immediately, thinking of my cloak spilling out of the cabinet the other day.

To my dismay, the experience gained for completing the patterns dropped immediately after; I only gained a single experience for each completed pattern after that. It felt like too little for the amount of labor involved; each pattern involved a complete set of five pieces.

Maybe I had just been spoiled by how much experience was granted from killing wolves. A single clear of the dungeon pushed me at least forty percent to my next level; but was that actually less effort than crafting a complete set of clothes? Not to mention the risk of death and dismemberment.

I played with Threadmastery while thinking about my future upgrades. A loose bit of yarn followed my hand sluggishly, as if it was being pulled by a magnet. I played with it back and forth on the table during a much needed break from constant working.

“Maybe we could use the money from this commission to take a trip to the city.” Mom said, still sewing something together as she talked. Despite her currently looking away from her work, it was still coming together perfectly, hands blurring with movement.

I looked up at her, still propping my hand up with a fist.

“Why don’t we upgrade the workshop instead?”

Mom bit her lip.

“No sense in fixing things we can’t keep.” She said.

I looked around. The chipped tile and warped windows showed decades of age.

“What about stuff we can bring with us? Equipment?”

Mom measured me carefully, staring down at me. I met her gaze.

“If you’re sure that’s what you want.” She said. “Maybe we can order more clothes for you.”

“Do we have a new catalogue?” I asked, leaning forward. Mom smiled at my excitement.

Pounding came from the door. I shot up to get it. Mom raised her eyebrows.

“I’ll get it.”

The door swung open before I reached it. Sandy looked to me, then looked to my mom, then raised her eyebrows.

“You ready?” She asked.

“Just a sec.” I replied, turning back and walking over to the cabinet I stored my bag in and pulling it out. My moms eyebrows rose even higher.

“I’ll see you in the morning?” She asked. “Sandy, tell your father I said thanks for the food.”

“Will do, Miss Tailor.” Sandy said.

“Your place first?” I asked.

“Yeah.” She said. I shut the door behind us.

We speed walked through the town and around towards her house. Sandy was filled with energy; this was the least abrasive I had ever seen her.

“Get your new cleaver already?” I asked in a low tone.

“No.” She frowned. “Gerald said it’d take a day to smelt and refine all the metal into higher grade steel before he can even start crafting it. Going to be a few days. What about you, how’s your cloak?”

“I… haven’t tried it on yet.” I said.

“Why not?” Sandy asked.

“I just show up stomping around my house with a Darkness element imbued cloak? No. My mom would ask so many questions.”

“Should just tell her.” Sandy shrugged. “My dad already knows.”

“About you! Not about me.” I said. We walked into Sandy’s workshop. “Not about me, right?” I asked this time.

“Nah.” Sandy waved my concerns away. “Okay, put it on!” She said, reaching down and dawning the mismatched armor she owned herself.

I pulled the cloak out. It was soft and fine; the work on it was high quality, despite the system describing it as Ragged. I tied my hair back before putting the cloak on, reaching up and pulling my pony tail out of the collar.

“Moment of truth?” Sandy said.

I pulled open my System with a shiver of anticipation.

[Gwendolyn Tailor][Human, Lv4][Seamstress]

[Health: 10/10][Mana: 5/10][XP: 3/10]

[ATTRIBUTES]

►SPD: 10 ►WIL: 5

►STR: 5 ►DEX: 12

►CON: 5 ►PER: 7

[SKILLS]

►Crafting I ►Running Stitch I

►Hand Spinning I ►Thread Mastery I

►Warddrobe I

[PATTERNS]

►[Hunter Pattern]

[RESISTANCES]

►Shadow: 1

“I think I’ll need the full set to get any skills.” I said.

“And the stats?” Sandy asked, touching the cloak and feeling the fabric.

“Plus two.” I replied.

“Two what?”

“Dex… and Per.”

“Impressive.” Sandy said.

The cloak felt heavy on my shoulders. I twirled in it once. It spun around me, heavy and strong. Then I raised a hand and touched it, invoking my new skill with a thought.

[Warddrobe I]

“Woah!” Sandy said. “Shit, is that the stealth skill?”

“No.” I laughed. “It wouldn’t be much of a stealth skill if it just turned the cloak invisible.”

The feeling of suddenly losing two dex was much more noticeable than gaining it. I felt like I had just drank an entire pitcher of coffee, all of my moments uneven and twitchy. It was distinctly uncomfortable.

With a strain of mental thought, I invoked the skill again. The cloak reappeared around me.

“How long do you really think you’re goin to be able to hide that from your mom?” Sandy asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“As long as it takes.” I replied.

She rolled her eyes before leading the way to the dungeon. We crept more carefully this time, Sandy carving apart and dropping a monster before I stabbed into it, conserving mana for making more Hunter Pattern tonight.

“What?” I asked aloud, shocked. There was no experience, no pop up, no reward.

“Finally stop giving experience?” Sandy asked.

“Let me take the next one.” I said, tracking the pattern of glowing lines in the dark. I dashed forward.

[Running Stitch I] [Mana: 4/10] [Cancel]

The wolf went limp without a noise, collapsing on the floor of the wolf den.

I sat over the body in silence.

No experience.

I closed my eyes. This meant the only way I had to level up currently was crafting.

Something slammed into my side, sending me tumbling in the dark.

I rolled on the floor, grabbing the needle, but the tiny paring knife I used to share Sandy’s buff fell out of my hand, bouncing on the floor with a clinking noise.

“Don’t close your eyes in a dungeon!” Sandy said. 

There was a snarl, then a whimper as a knife parted flesh. Sandy was barely visible in the moonlight that managed to claw its way through the piled stones that made the wolf den. I fumbled in the dark for the knife, cursing as I found the blade before the handle. A tiny cut was opened on my finger, but I’d have to deal with it later. We had another two wolves to kill.

“Sorry.” I said. “You okay?”

“Not a scratch on me. You?”

“I think you might’ve knocked a health point out of me.” I said, stabbing down to end the wolf’s suffering. This was the stealth wolf — and still, no experience. “I need experience faster.” I said, though I kept my eyes open this time.

“Then we have to open the next floor of the dungeon.” Sandy said, eyes staring down the corridor.

“What will it take?” I asked.

“First, finish your outfit. Then make me one.”

“What will it take to open the next dungeon?”

“Shouldn’t be long. A few more days of full clearing this and the next floor will open here.”

 I stood and started down the den. The rest of the monsters died without incident; we dragged two out, and started our live’s new patterns.

Clearing the first floor of the dungeon couldn’t push the city outwards; it couldn’t reclaim The Wild for use to build. But it meant no more houses collapsed as The Wild closed in. It meant the Noble who owned the town couldn’t force us all to leave for profit. And it meant we were progressing forward.

Sandy carved apart a new wolf as I stitched an old one back together, working on the jacket that fit under the wolf pattern cloak. The dexterity afforded to me by the cloak let me work faster, so I kept wearing it even in her workshop.

A new bandaged wrapped around my finger; Sandy hadn’t bothered to wash the dried blood off her knife before returning it to her tools. I looked up at her.

“Have you been to the second floor?”

Her knife stopped mid cut from where she sliced a wolf open, turning to regard me.

“Yes.” She said, looking back and continuing her work.

“What’s down there?”