(20 Days Left)

A rather grim reminder flashed in my right eye as I rummaged inside of my overcrowded bag, sorting out various potions. I blinked the message of my certain doom countdown away with a sigh.

Thanks for the reminder, System.

I momentarily wondered about the System notices, pondering whether they really arose as a result of the collective unconscious desires of humanity wanting greater order in magic, as Master Milgrim described it in his notes.

[Stats,] I thought, wanting to check whether any issues had resolved themselves.

They had! Alessi’s crystalline heart was pulling 47 m/hr, which was how I was doing magic on the bag. It was an improvement.

The [Advance to LV 1?] message was taunting me. I knew that people fell asleep when they leveled up. I was a bit curious whether going up a level would fix more things, or maybe add more days to my timeline, or somehow screw me over horrifically and reduce the count down because my body was full of Vigilant Draconic Tonic, which didn’t allow a person to fall asleep. I had to consult an expert on the matter before I did anything drastic like leveling up.

Alas, I had no experts on hand. My best bet was to look for an underground healer specializing in soul damage outside of Acadia. Thankfully, I still had ten gold and a whole bunch of silver on me to pay for a diagnosis. Theoretically, I could sell some of the more expensive pilfered ingredients for gold if I needed more cash.

I was currently halfway inside my bag, which sat on a pine tree branch on the outskirts of Acadia. The pine stood atop one of the moss-and-tree-covered lush mountains that surrounded the city.

The city looked picturesque from above, giving me a vantage point that I had not seen before.

Pink tiled rooftops sparkled in the light of the afternoon. White limestone buildings were chaotic but fit rather nicely together, like an orderly ant hill. Rings of white walls, gothic white towers and gates circled the city like a gargantuan defense hexagram. The cathedral-like white baronial palace and the seat of government belonging to Baron Nicodemii the Third loomed over the city like a white gemstone of architectural splendor. Skyships sparkled as they departed from and landed on Skyway Central Station behind the palace.

The receiver stone in my ear suddenly buzzed.

I tapped it, accepting the Voicecast.

“Lo, adventurer,” a scruffy female voice spoke with a bit of an accent. “I hear you’re looking for a privateer captain?”

“Lo, Captain,” I said. “Indeed I am.”

“Where do you wish to go?” the voice asked.

“Where am I allowed to go?” I inquired, my heartbeat accelerating.

“Anywhere. The fifty gold you left with the Guild will cover a trip from Acadia to pretty much anywhere on Andross. My ship’s yours for a week, adventurer.”

“Even a magogenic zone?” I asked curiously.

The girl laughed. “You bet your ass. I’m not the kind of a gal that’s scared of a little magrad.”

“What about the Infinite Dungeon?” I inquired.

“That too,” she replied.

I blinked. As far as Master Milgrim’s journals revealed, ships couldn’t fly through magogenic zones due to the insanely dangerous magical radia that screwed with the flight systems and the dragon heart engine. Bolsh must have really found someone special for me, a captain immune to magrad.

Maybe she’s magogenic-zone born? What did Alaster call them? Aberrants? Wasn’t there a less insulting name for them? Oh right... arcanamorphs!

“You’re an arcanamorph?” I guessed.

“Hrmm-mm,” the privateer replied. “My exact classification is a vexen. Hope that’s not a problem. Your Guild agent did say that you aren’t picky.”

“Perfectly fine with me,” I replied with a soft smile. “I’d like to see the ocean first, Captain.”

“I’ll be at Skyway Central, terminal 47...” she started to speak.

“I don’t want to take off from Central,” I said. “Can you meet me on the tallest pine of Mobers Hill? I’m there now.”

“Hrrrrmmm,” the girl purred, her voice taking on a sly tone. “A rather unusual pickup request. You sure you’re not a topaz dealer?”

“Pretty sure,” I said.

“Well if you’re sure, then no problem. Expect to see my ship in about seven clicks... err minutes atop the highest pine of ol’ Mobers!”

“Sounds good.” I nodded.

“Over and out.” The voice faded.

I fully emerged from the bag and closed the ring-flap, pulling the leather backpack atop my shoulder. Then I wrapped myself in my gray invisi-cloak, activated the eye-redirecting runework, and waited.

A dark spot took off from Skyway Central. I heard a booming hum of skyship engines as the small dark yacht arrived. The black yacht circled Mobers Hill as its captain tried to determine which pine was the tallest.

Then it slowly sailed close to me, stopping right above me and hovering in mid air. I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up as the skyship engines crackled and sparked overhead, lightning jumping between ring-shaped magisteel rings covered in shimmering blue runes.

“Lo! Adventurer! Your ride’s here!” The same female voice resounded from the dark yacht, a redhead figure with big fluffy ears appearing atop the metal deck.

She was indeed magogenic-zone born. I peered at the ship for a minute. It didn’t have any City Watch markings on it, and the design looked rather quirky and unusual, the angles sharp and dangerous. The sails looked weathered and tattered, fraying at the edges. The City Watch would not go so far as to fake an entire old ship to look this derelict simply to catch me. I relaxed and turned the eye-redirecting runework off.

“Lo, Captain!” I waved my hand.

The ship gradually descended, coming down to hover next to the branch upon which I stood.

“Welcome aboard the Phantamarauder!” the vexen declared.

A stairwell unfolded from the ship, shaped from sharp, rust-covered, blade-like edges. I tested the stairwell with my boot. It felt exceptionally unsafe, like it would fall apart under me at any moment. I ignored the stairs and took a leap from the tree, landing straight on the deck, which groaned under my feet.

The deck looked like it had been forged from the same dark pyramidal metal. It was covered in rust, questionable stains, holes, and pockmark-like protrusions, and something that looked like barnacles. Sky barnacles? I decided not to question the quality of the yacht too much; after all, this was my only way out of Acadia.

“Captain Aconite Vox at your services.” The redhead grinned, extending a hand.

“Merv,” I said, shaking the offered hand.