Chapter 506

Arthur flipped the simple clay ball up and down in his hand, smiling a little at how light but well-built it was. Amazing how much he had improved in a month, especially after crossing another three floors. The last two in the last week. He took hold of it and twisted both ends of the ball, watching as it came apart to reveal the hollow insides. Holding the entire thing up, he eyed the piece before screwing it tight again, noting how it caught a little as it ground close.

Figuring out threading on his clay balls were still a problem. He needed to redo the molds once more, to get the fit tighter. This was workable, at least and unlikely to spill any of the contents. Pulling the ball apart again, he fit the smaller sphere within one half.

“So you’re sure this mixture will work?” he asked Zhoya, the young girl standing before him.

“About as sure as your work, sir!” Zhoya said. “You going to test it?”

“I might as well.” He took two more balls out, made form the same mold and repeated the process so that he had the light packages within. “So, throw hard and stay far away?”

“Yes!”

Arthur snorted, placing them each in the simple woven cord holders he had commissioned for them. They swung a little, bumping his thigh and he made note to figure out a different way of carrying them. Storage rings that he could draw them from would be perfect, but the one he had was slow to conjure and had a tiny amount of space. One filled with his everyday needs for climbing.

“Coming?” Arthur asked her curiously, but Zhoya just shook her head. He snorted, waved goodbye and slipped out of the workshop she worked within. He headed straight for the closest exit, the butt of his spear striking the ground with each footstep.

It took him half the city before he noticed those trailing after him. Arthur mentally shook his head at them, debated if he should confront them now or later. Decided on later, since they might just be watching. That possibility ended once he left the city and they kept coming, in small groups, following as he entered the tropical jungle hills, wending his way along the small paths.

They took action, not far away, probably only a half hour out of town. Annoyingly, they had also managed to scare away any of the monsters he was looking for; but he figured he’d have a series of test subjects anyway.

The group that stepped out ahead of him in the small clearing, blocking the exit was breathing hard, sweat staining and reflecting the light and dampening the cotton shirts they wore. Terrible choice of clothing, but cotton was cheap and plentiful.

Arthur kept walking, made his way into the center. Shifted his body a little so he could see the people piling in behind, while he leaned on his spear. Palmed one of his new clay balls with his other hand as he continued. “So, I’m only going to say this once. Don’t.”

A lot of blathering in another language, Bangladeshi or whatever local tongue it was. Even spending months in the Tower had not helped Arthur pick up more than a smattering of words, most of them – not surprisingly – curses. There were a few in there, but mostly, from tone and body language, Arthur figured what they were saying was the local equivalent of ‘who do you think you are’ and ‘hand over your goods’.

“Sorry, don’t speak your language. Want to try again?” Arthur said.

There wasn’t. Instead, the man in front clad in a dirty yellow shirt gestured with the hatchette he held and his friends, all wielding a series of weapons – swords, spears and even a rather nice looking mace – charged.

Arthur leaned to the side casually, watched as the bursts of bright light blasted past him. The locals had a strange Mana beam skill. Very powerful, output a lot more energy than his dart and moved faster; but they required the users – at least at this level – to point and gesture. Attacks also took a lot of tower energy – something like three points for each blast. Which meant, most of his opponents had two, maybe three shots before they were out.

He tossed the ball at the group lunging towards him. The one in the lead laughed as it flew past him, just over his shoulder and missed him by inches as he leaned aside. Fractions of a moment later, the clay shattered on the forehead of the one behind, the clay outer surface shattering and the cloth within breaking apart at the pressure. Alchemical herbs within mixed, and a sweeping explosion tore through the group, one filled mostly with flame and some of the broken shards. More importantly, the explosion drove the powder that was within outwards, scattering the smoke and powder.

Not well, though. A large chunk of it was left in the center area, choking the person the clay ball had impacted; smaller amounts washing over the others. Still, the powder and gas released within was enough to cause the Climbers to fall over, tearing at their skin that began to bubble and tear.

Arthur kept backing away, sweeping up another ball and lobbing it in the direction of those from behind before he had to face the others who had managed to reach him in-between. Two of them, not poisoned beyond the edges of the attack.

A thrust spear, skimming through the air where his shoulder had been. Then a swinging sword, large and chunky; wielded two-handed with only a touch of skill. He drifted between the two, stabbed the spear user with his own one-handed, watched as his spear tore through their body. Leaned over and kicked backward, batting the sword aside on the flat and then impacting the other with the balls of his feet on the temple.

He thought he was moving slowly, was moving easily by his own standards. Unfortunately, he was significantly stronger than a plain mortal and these Climbers hadn’t even finished their first ascent. The sheer difference in ability between himself and them was monumental. A light tap snapped his opponents head to the side, cracked something in the neck and dropped the other.

Straightening with a frown, Arthur stared as the leader ran for it. Arthur considered chasing after him, but he was not truly that interested in killing him. And interrogation was tricky when one didn’t speak. Anyway, the deaths were more than enough of a warning.

Or, in those poisoned, not necessarily deaths – just a lot of pain and blisters.

“Yeah… definitely not using this on humans again.” Arthur winced as the screams of the Climbers, tearing at their face, at the blisters and the red, itchy and weeping sores spread over them. Those who had inhaled the powder were the worse off, choking to death.

He debated killing them, chose against it. There was a possibility the others might survive after all – that was the advantage of living as Climbers. If they could survive the pain, they would heal eventually. And if they didn’t… well, the object lesson was workable.

Of course, Arthur was doing his best not to think what it said about him that he was able to make such decisions these days. He had never been that cold, before. Had he?

Climbing was changing him, in ways that he was uncertain he enjoyed. Or agreed with.

It did, however, make him rather practical. So he wandered past the others, headed to find a monster to test the last clay ball.