"We will construct a permanent camp!" Melinda shouted. "You have a plan in your email now, and each of you is assigned a task. We'll dig a moat, raise earthworks and a wooden fence, and protect the camp with stakes. We rest only at lunch. The fog sea on the west is off-limits."
There were more guards hired for the trip, and no little was Peter's surprise when he discovered Daniel among them. His weaponry was impressive: an assault gun and a few grenades. The cook waved to him.
"What are you doing here?" Peter asked, going to meet the man.
“A friend of a friend called in a favor. He wants someone to keep an eye on a kid," Daniel said.
"Ah, OK… On who?"
"Your girl," Daniel whispered.
“Oh… you’re spying on me?”
“Cross my heart, I wouldn’t do such a thing to you,” the cook protested. “Just keeping an eye to protect her from monsters.”
"See you later," Peter said, moving on.
“Wait!” Daniel grabbed him by the shoulder. “Since we’re both here, we should explore opportunities to expand our business. What about hunting some monsters together?”
“Why not,” Peter shrugged. “Let me ask first what kind of beasts we could find. I’ll ask a friend,” Peter said, walking away and focusing a message on the System.
After checking his mail, Peter discovered he had been assigned tent duty. It made sense. The Cultivators, teachers, and students were onto the harder stuff, the ramparts. The Body teachers dug the earth by slamming their fists into it, and the Spirit students pushed it away using Telekinesis, working in large groups. Regina was among them and was doing well. Ariana was there, too.
Peter joined one of the groups of normies working on the common tents. There was a medical one, a command center, a cam kitchen, showers, latrines, storage units, and a lot of work. The normies ignored him. Peter’s grand strategy for the duration of his studies had been to keep to himself, no matter from whom.
A group of three Minders has been assigned to supervise them. One, in particular, was making his mission to make the normies' lives miserable by shouting indications every other second, all wrong.
“Why are you putting the tent on an incline?” the Mind student yelled. “Move it!”
“This helps the rainwater go around,” Peter explained, trying to keep calm. “We’ll dig a ten-inch deep trench.”
“It’s a very small incline,” another normie said, one a bit older than the rest. “I have a degree in engineering.”
“Do I look like I care?” the cultivator yelled. “I said move it.”
“Look, man, my parents run a thematic summer camp. I spent all my holidays—” playing the Roman soldier “—there,” Peter tried to explain. “I know what I’m tal—”
The Mind student slapped the back of his head. “I said move it! What? You want to call your girlfriend to protect you?” he added, misreading Peter’s eyes.
A camping shovel is a multitool, his father taught Peter. Trying to restrain his powers, he slammed the flat part into the Cultivator’s groin. The boy screamed murder and collapsed on the ground, holding his privates. Another Mind student moved forward and got the round pommel in his plexus, joining the first.
The third, a girl, stepped back and raised his hands. “I didn’t say anything, dude!”
“You sure? Maybe you want to say something. Please, do!” Peter growled, his eyes widened in anger.
“I’m good!” the student took another step backward. “Tent is fine.”
The groups in the camp were all looking in their direction, talking or taking photos.
“What’s going on?” a Martial Arts teacher roared. Alerted by the noise, she had jumped up from where she was, like a flea, and landed near the group. Peter had forgotten the name, but her nickname was Miss Body Count, and she was on the severe side, training her students until they fainted from exhaustion, thus the nickname.
“It was an accident. We had a divergent opinion about how to put a tent,” Peter explained. “We say it’s OK; he said it’s not and moved too close, hitting his groin on the shovel in the process.”
“And the second?”
“Same.”
“He hit us on purpose!” the first Student wailed between a few sobs.
“He hit Peter first!” the engineer said. “And said he’ll fuck his mother,” the student added an embellishment.
“Is it so?” the teacher frowned. “Get on your feet!... I told Melinda the Mind section is weak. Now, you stay here,” she put a hand on the student's shoulder, “and you… What’s your name?”
“Peter.”
“We’ll do a test. Hit him again, as strong as before. I’ll count to three. One, Two, Three!”
“Noo… Teacher, please!” the student pleaded. Nevertheless, Body Count kept him stuck in place. Peter hit milder this time, trying to get the thigh instead of the testicles. It did, partially. The student collapsed again, crying.
Useful…
“What a wimp,” Body Count snorted, looking at the Mind student groveling at his feet. “OK. Here’s my decision. No food for the day!”
“OK, teacher,” Peter nodded.
“Not you. Him,” she pointed at the one on the ground, yelling: “And three hours of lifting weights! What kind of a Cultivator are you to be hurt by a simple hit in the balls?” The second student was back on his feet and was trying to be inconspicuous, but he didn’t escape his fate. “And you, take a shovel and—”
“Hit him?” the student widened his eyes, hopeful.
“Dig the latrines on your own! If I hear any more ruckus, I’ll throw you all in the fog at night. Tied but not gagged, so I could hear the screams. Dismissed!” The teacher returned to her previous location, and the students returned to their tasks. The Mind ones limped away, not that Peter’s group was interested in their advice anyway.
“Well done, bro,” the engineer said when the tent and the ditch were done.
“Told you, I have a lot of experience with camps.”
“You think we could take on a Body as a group?” another student asked. “There are some bullies that I have in mind.”
“Probably,” Peter shrugged. “But you’ll have to do it on your own. I’m on a self-defense-only philosophy. Hey, Mindshit, you want some more?” he yelled at the Mind student, who was looking at him from a distance but scampered as soon he was observed. “And deterrence,” Peter added, making the others laugh.
Feels good to be the top dog for once…
They continued their task until only one tent was left. “Guys, do you mind if I take a break?” Peter asked. “I need to… you know… do the other number than one…”
“Sure, bro, go. We got it covered,” the engineer said.
“I’ll go further in the grass; there are too many people around,” Peter said.
“Please bury it, I don’t want to step in it by accident.”
Raising the shovel in the air as a salute, Peter left. Shovel put in the storage, and a minute later, he told the same story to Daniel, one of the guards at the entry points, and since the latrines weren’t ready yet, he met no problems. Once outside the perimeter and far enough, Peter first for a hill with a copse, hiding between the trees. There, he started Relaxing. The elf appeared after ten minutes. He was on the same terrace as during the first tutorial, but it was night, and multiple moons shone in the sky.
“Greetings, my friend. If you're seeing this, you've made significant progress. This tutorial has two parts: understanding how Mana works in your body and how to fight Cultivators. The first will help with the second.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
“Your body consists of trillions of cells, each made of billions of atoms, and inside the latter are vast empty spaces. Mana enters there, attracting fundamental particles and forming specialized structures. Some are represented as a resource, and others are considered a permanent enhancement. Constitution affects your health, Dexterity boosts your reflexes, and so on.
“Cultivators take a different approach. They concentrate Mana in a core that processes and quickly replenishes a smaller, specialized Mana Pool. Their advantage lies in the speed and focus of their Mana, but you have a larger and more varied Mana Pool to draw from.
“Now, let’s talk about fighting. You have a significant advantage over Cultivators of the same level, even up to two or three stages above you. However, Cultivators in the ninth or tenth stages will surpass you in raw strength or technique. My advice is to avoid fighting them directly; your goal is not to fight them head-on but to undermine them and free your planet.
“However, if you must fight one of the top-tier Cultivators, know that Cultivators are predictable and rely on a few potent skills, trying to overwhelm you as fast as possible. Find ways to deny or delay those abilities. Tactics as simple as talking could work because they are vain and like to boast. Use their arrogance against them. And most of all, remember your higher versatility.
“This is your final tutorial, and your assistant has been granted access to it. From here, your future is in your hands. Fight to live, and live to fight.”
“Oh, goodness, this is so complicated…” Peter whimpered.
“Brainstorm… Say, how does your speech thing work? How come you don’t know basic words?”
“So there’s no universal translator?”
“Not now, System. Let’s take care of the important business first.”
Peter Warped for Redroar's village with a specific purpose in his head. He got lucky; she was at the tavern across the billboard.
"Hey. I have some friends with me this time. Is it a problem to train a group?" he said directly.
"An ounce of gold per three lessons," the Barbarian said. "I have to skip bounties. When are you coming?"
"Maybe tomorrow…”
“If you don’t, you still owe me the money.”
“Understood. Two more things. What kind of monsters are roaming around? Are there any worth hunting?”
Redroar shook her head. “Our planet is known for its plants, not the monsters. Bilghies have tough leather, but only the old specimens.”
“OK,” Peter sighed. “Second question: is there any blacksmith in town? I thought about what you said the last time, and I have a weapon I'd like to be made."
"I dabble in the trade," she said. "You'll not find a better blacksmith for a hundred miles. What kind of weapon?"
“Here’s a drawing,” Peter offered a folded paper. “It’s a long cleaver with a spike on top and a hollow handle that could be put on a shaft but also detached. I can cut and stab at close range; the shaft goes in for reach, and the thing becomes a polearm.”
“You’ll need two. There’s no such luxury as an enemy waiting for you to assemble a weapon.”
“Make four,” Peter nodded, thinking he could give a pair to Regina or another one of their group.
“Very well,” Redroad roared.
After taking his leave, Peter returned to the camp and arrived just before lunch break without anybody noticing his absence. He and Regina went outside, sitting on the grass as far as possible from the others.
“The System said I should ask you directly what class you got,” Peter said after they ate.
"A sort of doctor… I think it's because of my heritage…"
"Nice. A Healer is what makes a group survive."
"It’s more into traditional medicine… It's called a Gris-gris doctor."
You're joking, right? Only silence replied. Right?
"Hm… this grass is wonderful. I'll collect it and make a few items," Regina looked around.
What? Regina is a witch of sorts?
+20 in Luck and +10 Charisma for discovering what true love is. Your Luck is now at the Journeyman tier.
“The most appropriate reward," Peter whispered, admiring Regina, cutting grass with a pocket knife, an adorable expression on her face, with puckering lips, her position, bent from the middle, quite enticing. Do I still gain stats by exercising?
"Baby, I'm going for a hike," Peter said to Regina, who was just returning. There was still about half an hour left from the break.
She kissed him, then he Stealthed, making her let out a short yelp, then Warped. The Stealth stayed on even when he arrived at the end of the jump. He continued his trip, going to the beach bar. Stopping a hundred yards farther, he surveilled the premises first. His doppelganger was there.
Peter swallowed a Mana pill and rose up. He approached in the open to warn his other self and the bartender about his presence.
"Hello," he said. "I’m glad I found you here.”
“I live here,” Peter Two said.
“Err… Like where?” Peter looked around because there was no house or tent in view.
"In a permanent fishing camp a mile North.”
“You’re fishing what?”
“Monsters.”
“Really? I heard there are not many.”
“Fog monsters. They appear at night,” Peter from two waved his hand toward the sea. “It’s a risky business. Look, I suppose you’re not here for fishing. Any news?”
“About?”
“The fake IDs,” the doppelganger said through his clenched teeth, meaning: Are you an idiot?
"Working on it… Any news on your part?"
"We were notified to stay out of your area. Some of my higher floor contacts told me there will be a 'Get the flag' contest between Colleges starting Wednesday. Those who conquer another camp will order its students around. The top three colleges will get prizes."
"I scouted the locations a bit, I’ll draw you a map..." Peter Two said, taking a napkin. “This your camp,” he drew an x. The rest are spaced in a grid… to have about the same distance between locations.
"Thanks," Peter promised, taking a look at the map. "Twelve camps?"
"So far as I know, yes."
"One of my… friends has a theory that this place was once ruled by a System. Can you find more information about it?"
"Yeah, that's what we think too. The Cultivators conquered the Tower and enslaved its System."
"I have to go. Come see me over the weekend. I hope to have more news by then," Peter from Two continued.
"I will. Take care."
“I expect to have results about the fake IDs soon,” Peter’s doppelganger warned.
There was still some time left, and Peter went to scout the other camps, following the given map. He aimed at the closest location to his current position, finding another American encampment, only much more serious. The newly joint college of Yalevard had a military-style fort with watchtowers and barbed wire guarded by tanks and soldiers.
“You motherfuckers,” Peter showed the camp the middle finger, albeit no one could see him in Stealth.
They are assholes… Their visiting students behave even worse than ours. One night, they put dog shit in every normie student’s shoes… They had some sort of rogue, and no one heard anything. I wonder where they got so much of it…
“Ariana, huh?” Peter sneered. “Yeah, she’d help with such a thing. Let’s scout a few more and return.”
A few miles further, there was a bigger surprise. He was looking at a full-fledged medieval fortress with fifty-foot-tall stone walls and a keep.
"What the heck is that, Hogwart?" Peter cursed.
Not much farther away was a camp with a Chinese flag. There were no fortifications but a lot of people and countless small tents. Peter put a halt to his scouting there and returned to his camp. As soon as he got back, his phone buzzed, an announcement, and he was assigned to work on the earthworks. That was harder than expected, even with his new Strength stats, and it took all afternoon. After finishing the task, he took a shower and rejoined Regina.
"How's it going?" he asked.
“I missed you,” she smiled at him. “I have good news: Ranked students can have their own tent. We can stay together,” she whispered the last two words in his ear, and they kissed.
"Lend me your ears," Melinda yelled, rising ten feet above the ground. "After tomorrow, a capture the flag game begins against eleven other Colleges. The rules are simple. Points are given for scoring hits on the other college’s students, resisting an attack, or bringing an enemy flag into our camp. Protection wards will detect and inhibit any possible lethal attack. A direct hit will mark the player out for the day. Tomorrow, there’s a strategy meeting in the morning, and then you're free to walk around, train, or relax. That's all."
Daniel, Regina, and Peter stuck together when night came, while Ariana and Naomi went with Jack's group; they were friends, after all. Peter didn’t dwell on that. The cook made a wood fire barbecue for their group, with more Crazed Bear meat. He brought beers, too, which was a welcomed addition.
"You want to see a demonstration of my powers?" Regina asked when the two were alone in their tent.
"Of course!" Peter cheered.
"I have a personal spatial storage in which I can store up to six dolls and apply various effects to them." She stretched her hand, and suddenly, a straw silhouette appeared. It was Peter, unmistakably. It had spiky brown hair from darker straws, large blue-gray eyes, dried flowers, and a simulacra of his favorite shirt and jeans made from some fabric. "Can you cut yourself, baby, so I can heal you?"
"Err… Fine…" Grimacing, Peter ran a pocket knife over his palm, keeping the cut shallow.
"Now look. Healing pill." She touched a qi-pill over the doll's hand, and Peter's wound disappeared in moments. Next, she kissed the straw figurine's head.
"You're amazing!" Peter said. He felt her kisses almost as if they would have been real.
"I know. Amazing's my middle name," Regina's voice rang in his ear, although she whispered to the doll.
"Now, the most important part," the girl spoke. She threw the doll into the fire.
"Whoa!" Peter jerked, preparing to feel the burn. Nothing came.
"My dolls are of two types, for friends or enemies. I can't inflict harm on the first or heal the second. And a friend must be a true friend, and an enemy a true enemy."
"That's beyond OP. When you said you can use up to six dolls, did it mean that's the max number you can use, or just store?" Peter asked.
"It’s like a deck of cards. I can use only those six in a fight, but I can switch them in between."
"Good to know… This means I can help you with my storage." He continued in thought, speaking to the System: What about staying with Naomi and Ariana for the night? We need some privacy.