Judge & Jury [LitRPG Satire] - Chapter 1 (Patreon)

Slip held his hands over the black stone before him. Wisps of gentle blue light danced around his clawed fingers. He felt the gaze of hundreds of kobolds burn into his back, but he ignored it.

He drew in a deep breath, closing his eyes and forming his hands into a triangle above the rock. The small kobold drew in a deep breath. His chest tingled as the mana stored within his heart twisted and churned, longing for release.

A cold prickling sensation started in his chest. It slowly spread outwards, creeping down up his arms and down his legs. Slip felt power start to build within him. He forced his elation down and directed the flowing energy towards his hands.

It started with a trickle. Then it became a flow, and then an unstoppable tide. Power rushed through his body, coursing into his hands and building in strength. Slip opened his eyes and thrust his hands forward. He let out a victorious cry, releasing all the power he’d accumulated into the rock.

A wisp of energy the size of a malnourished rodent wheezed out of his palms, weakly bumping against the rock before dissipating. The stone took on the faintest of blue tints and Slip dropped his hands, breathing heavily.

“It’s blue!” Slip exclaimed, pointing at the rock.

Murmurs passed through the crowd. An older kobold with a long white beard that reached halfway down his chest cleared his throat to get the crowd’s attention. He walked towards Slip, leaning heavily on a wooden walking staff.

“I shall now examine the level of mana that Slip was able to utilize,” he proclaimed. His voice was warbly and weak, but it still carried the unmistakable force of a leader.

The old kobold lifted his staff and tapped the stone slightly. He closed his eyes, allowing the information to pass through his mind, before returning his attention to the present.

“Slip’s mana is grade ninety nine,” he said.

The crowd burst into mutters again.

“That’s good, right?” Slip asked, wringing his hands together. “High numbers are good.”

“It…could be better,” the elderly kobold said carefully.

“What does that mean? Give me a comparison to a magical beast, Gramps! A minotaur? A dragon?”

“A hamster.”

Slip blinked.

“What?” He asked.

“Your magical power is borderline nonexistent,” the old kobold said. “I do not mean to insult you, but a researcher tested a field hamster and found it to have a mana grade of ninety eight. That’s one level higher than yours.”

“Oh,” Slip said, tuning out the laughter building in the crowd surrounding them. The kobold swallowed. He reached down to grab a large sword lying on the ground – where he’d left it before attempting to use the mana stone.

His hands wrapped around the familiar hilt of the sword and heaved it over his shoulder with a grunt, forcing himself to keep a straight face.

“So…what’s the next test?” Slip asked.

“There are no more tests, Slip,” the bearded kobold said. “You’ve failed every single one.”

“What do you mean? There has to be another one,” Slip insisted. “You were the one that told us that every kobold has a calling!”

“Well, they do. I’m sure you’ll find yours eventually,” the other kobold said, raising a hand to placate Slip. “The forty nine tests we did today just…weren’t your calling.”

“But I need to choose a profession today,” Slip muttered. The laughter in the crowd behind him grew louder. His grip tightened on the hilt of his sword. His claws bit into his scaly red skin, drawing a droplet of blood.

Another kobold emerged from a small tunnel at the side of the huge cave that they stood in. His beard was trimmed to a clean grey goatee. He made a beeline towards Gramps and whispered something into his ear.

“What? That’s ridi–” Gramps began. He stopped mid-sentence as the other man muttered something else. Slowly, the bearded kobold started to nod.

“In fact, there is one more profession that we haven’t tested for,” Gramps said.

“Really?” Slip asked, looking up from the ground. “What is it?”

“Come with me,” Gramps said. “It’s a very rare profession. Nobody has been suited for it in many years, but perhaps it is your fate.”

He led Slip out of the huge cave and into the small passage that the other kobold had come from. The sound of the crowd’s mocking laughter faded into the distance, but it only grew louder in Slip’s memory.

They walked through the caves that Slip had spent the last eighteen years of his life in. Drab, grey walls and dim corridors lit by sputtering torches had long since become commonplace.

Slip curled his lips at the thought of staying within the caves any longer. The mocking laughter of his peers echoed around his mind, worming its way deeper within his consciousness.

Gramps took a sharp turn down a corridor slip was familiar with – it led towards the lower part of the caves, where the clan council resided. He’d traveled the path before, although it wasn’t one he frequented.

The council room was easy to spot. An adorned circular door blocking the entrance to it. Gold designs were inlaid over its surface, making the door as much a piece of art as an entrance. He’d tried to pry some of the gold off dozens of times – and that was a low number of attempts compared to his peers. However, not a single one of them had been able to claim a single speck of treasure.

Gramps pressed a claw into his hand, drawing a drop of blood. He pressed the pricked hand against the door and it swung open effortlessly. The two of them silently walked inside and the old kobold pulled the door shut behind them.

“I get to do something for the council?” Slip asked in awe, his reptilian eyes darting around the room.

It was the brightest room that the young kobold had ever seen. Strange metal boxes hung from the walls, gentle glowing orbs of light bouncing around within them. The floor was smooth cut stone instead of the rough rock that made up the rest of the cave, and comfortable padded chairs surrounded a large wooden table.

“Not exactly,” Gramps said, pulling Slip along impatiently towards a small door at the back of the room.