Strength Based Wizard-Chapter 40. Beyond the Bronze Horizon, Part II

Chapter 40

Beyond the Bronze Horizon, Part II

I sit up in the grass and press my fingers against the bridge of my nose like I’m trying to shove the information back into my skull. Or maybe squeeze out the part of my brain that thought this was a good idea.

“It’s not a spelling error,” I mutter, still squinting at the translucent blue screen hovering in front of my face.

Clyde blinks, raises an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”

I let out a breath. “Because I’ve been here before… This is the same Realm I ended up in during my first Gate. And yeah. I actually met gobblins—with two freakin’ B’s. They ran a factory. Pretty sure it’s the same one the Quest just name-dropped.”

Veronica lets out a low whistle, arms crossed, one brow arched like she’s halfway between impressed and annoyed. “Interesting. You guys think Bronze Gates always take Participants back to their first Realm, and our combined ticket just... piggybacked onto yours?”

“I actually had a similar thought when we first landed here,” I say. “The gobblins ran the factory and the whole scene was like The Jungle meets Middle-earth.”

“That sounds... terrible,” Veronica says, dry as an overcooked pancake. “I hate this place already.”

Clyde’s eyes flick through his interface. “Okay, but can we talk about the Quest for a second? Unless dragons are the Realm’s version of yeti squirrels, I’m guessing the System ramped the difficulty to match the three of us?”

Blurp! … Bzzzt!

Jelly Boy makes an annoyed warble. It sounds like if a kazoo got drunk and tried to pick a fight with Siri.

“Sorry,” Clyde amends. “Four of us.”

I pat Jelly Boy’s gooey head. “Or maybe you guys just saved my ass from soloing a dragon with nothing but some cantrips and a pair of booty shorts?”

Veronica snorts.

Clyde doesn’t seem half as amused. He scratches at his chin like he’s thinking three moves ahead, a strategy guide already unfolding between his ears. “I think we find high ground, get somewhere he can better assess our surroundings,” he says.

That’s when it hits me. “Oh! Hang on.”

I open my Inventory. I had never fully cleared my Inventory, and thank goodness too. Still sitting there in one of the first several slots, is the Map that I recovered off of one of the gobblins.

Jackpot!

The scroll materializes in my hand in a flash of bright pixels, old parchment with aggressive cross-hatching snaking across it in black ink, accompanied by slanted handwritten notes in a language I don’t understand. One corner is stained with what I hope is jam and not gobblin bodily fluid.

“I actually got this map the last time I visited the factory,” I say, grinning.

Jelly Boy makes a triumphant squelch.

“And you were dumb enough to drop it into your Inventory and forget about it?” asks Veronica.

“One hundred percent!”

The unfurled map pulses in my hand like it’s suddenly developed a heartbeat. That’s… Interesting.

It begins to glow—soft gold veins spider-webbing across the parchment like molten tree roots. Before I can make a snarky comment about radioactive gobblin ink, the damn thing lets out a flash of brilliant light, practically blinding me.

PFFFSSHT!

Tiny flecks of light burst upward, smacking me in the face like someone just slapped me with a handful of sea spray, surprisingly cold and wet. A tingle slithers up the back of my skull and nests somewhere behind my eyes. A soft chime echoes inside my skull cavity.

You have unlocked the [Map] Menu. Available maps of the surrounding areas can be accessed via the [Map] Menu.

Well, that’s convenient. “Er, guys… I just unlocked something.”

“Define ‘something,’” says Clyde.

I wave the map at him. “Map menu.”

“Can I see it?” he asks, already reaching forward for the piece of parchment.

“Sure,” I say, handing him the map. “But be careful, the thing spits on you.”

Clyde takes the map, eyes it for a heartbeat, and bam—light flashes, flecks of light particles fly into his face, dissolving into his skin. He’s just staring at the map in his hands. A beat passes. Then he grins. “That’s useful… Check it out.”

He passes the map to Veronica, who regards it with a little more hesitation.

I mentally summon my System interface and pull up my menu options. I select the shiny new ‘Map’ option. A new window of gray and black lines blossoms in front of me, sleek and smooth. It’s a minimalist overlay that faintly resembles what I would anticipate for a digital map… If someone forgot to fill in all the useful bits.

A blinking white arrow marks my location. We’re dead center in a big fat sea of gray.

I squint, then mentally ‘pinch’ the view and drag the map around. Slowly, things come into view. A forest to the southeast. And beneath it a yellow dot, neatly labeled with white text in legible English: The Factory.

“Well guys, our map is broken,” I announce. “There’s a whole lot of gray nothing between us and the factory.”

Veronica lets out a huh, staring into space but I know she’s examining the same digital map I have open in front of me. “I think the map is just incomplete. I assume because you obtained it from the factory, it only details the surrounding area… Looks like we were dropped off a pretty good distance away from the factory.”

“Going straight to the factory won’t do us any good anyhow,” says Clyde. “Not without a dragon’s core, at least.”

He has a point. “So, what next?” I ask.

Jelly Boy make a burbling noise like a gurgling toilet. I choose to interpret it as, “Yeah, anyone have any bright ideas?”

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Clyde speaks up. “I think these lines on the map are marking elevation. It will help us find higher ground. We can find our bearings and then decide in which direction we should strike out.”

“Alright,” I say, dismissing the map and flexing my fingers like I just finished doing mental push-ups. “What could go wrong? Lead the way!”

“First,” says Veronica. “Let’s equip our armor and stuff. I think we’ve been sitting here vulnerable for longer than I’m happy to admit.”

“Uh… Good idea!” I say. In a practiced mental motion, I equip my full suite of armor and items. In a flash of light, my pointy wizard’s hat and blue cape appear on my body, together with my lumberjack boots. I’m sure I look ridiculous adding those to my ensemble of jorts and the baggy, faded black Fleetwood Mac tee shirt.

Veronica equips her breastplate and has her hammer in her hands. Clyde, similarly, has the familiar pauldron on his shoulder and pistol strapped at his hip. Jelly Boy just bounces around near my feet.

“And with that,” I announce, “We’re now ready to go. Now, what could go wrong?”

Clyde and Veronica both groan. “Are you trying to jynx us?” asks Veronica.

We set off, Clyde leading the way.

We hike.

And by hike, I mean trudge across an endless sea of green boredom. The sun hangs lazy in the sky. There doesn’t seem to be an end to the serene fields. Where the hell were we expected to find a dragon in this place?

“So,” I say, more to fill the space than anything else, “Classes. We all picked one, right? Let’s hear ‘em. I can start.”

I explain my Class, and its various abilities.

“A glass cannon, then,” says Clyde. “And since you’ll now be burning Stamina, and possible Health, even more reason we could use a bona fide healer.”

“You’re really limited to Level 2 Spells?” asks Veronica.

“Think so,” I say, shrugging.

“If your Wizard’s Hand cantrip is any indication, I wouldn’t take that for as much of a limiter as it might sound,” says Clyde. It’s a great point, and largely why I selected the Class. With a Strength score as high as mine (and only growing), my Spells—even being low-leveled—could be very, very dangerous. And there’s still the question of how my Spells behave. Lefty and Righty seem to improve and scale alongside me. There’s still so much I need to understand, I think.

Clyde adjusts his pauldron and raises a hand like we’re in a classroom and not just four friends trudging through a field.

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“I’ll go,” he says. “I’m a Big Game Hunter.”

There’s a dramatic pause, like we’re supposed to applaud. We don’t.

Clyde explains. The Big Game Hunter Class improves his ability to analyze enemies and pinpoint their vulnerabilities and weak points. Additionally, it offers him access to a growing array of debuff abilities.

“I can stack debuffs and eventually, as a battle drags on, take down behemoth-sized enemies. My analysis-related Skills will let me know which debuffs—and combo of debuffs—will be most effective. And I can do this all from a relative distance, using my firearm,” he explains.

I nod, impressed. “So, like a fantasy sniper with a PhD in psychological and biological warfare. Terrifying. I love it!”

“Exactly. But right now, I’m kind of... useless. Well, not entirely useless, but definitely in more of a support role for you two. At least until I really gain access to those debuffs.”

“Still,” says Veronica, “sounds like the kind of Class that snowballs. You’ll be a menace with enough time.”

Clyde shrugs. “That’s the hope.”

Veronica, who has been casually walking like she’s done this a thousand times in full plate, glances back over her shoulder.

“I picked Iron Maiden.”

Iron Maiden, to no one’s surprise, is a Tank Class. It allows Veronica to enhance her own armor, build shields using magic, and turn damage she takes into increased power for her own attacks.

Clyde and I both nod. Yeah. No surprises there. She’s built like someone who eats iron nails for breakfast and tells the monster horde to go screw itself.

“I thought the Skills that will allow me to generate shield constructs would be particularly helpful. We might not have a healer yet, but I might be able to make sure we can all stay standing for a little while longer if things get dicey.”

“And explain the damage redirection one more time?” asks Clyde.

Her Skill—I didn’t quite catch the name—allows her to lessen the damage she takes for a short period of time, and then redirect in the form of force damage the amount that she reduced the attacks by.

“Wait,” I say, squinting, “so you’re telling me you’re a masochistic magical pinball machine?”

Veronica smirks. “If the pinball was made of rage and the flippers were vengeance? … Yes.”

“Hot,” Clyde mutters under his breath.

That gets a laugh from both Veronica and I. I glance at Jelly Boy, who’s been bouncing in erratic zigzags through tufts of grass like a caffeinated balloon animal.

We’ve been walking for maybe an hour. Maybe two. Time’s starting to feel more like a suggestion and less like a fixed concept. Crazy how much not being able to constantly glance at your phone does that to you. There’s a haze hanging over the distant hills that looks like someone half-erased reality and then got bored of the cleanup.

My feet crunch against dry grass and the wind keeps whispering like it knows secrets I’m not supposed to. The worst part?

The Cardinal Hand.

Yeah. That little notification? It hasn't stopped worming its way through the meat of my brain since it appeared in my interface upon arrival. I try not to look around like I'm expecting to see a giant glove reaching down from the clouds, but... I absolutely am. Like what the fuck could the Cardinal Hand even be?

I slow my pace a little, let my thoughts turn into words before they eat me alive.

“Hey, uh… random question,” I say, casual-like. “Did either of you get a weird message when you landed here?”

Veronica glances over, suspicious. “Other than the Realm announcement? No.”

Clyde snorts. “Just the normal message… Why?”

They both stop walking. Their shared concern blooms like a bruise across their faces. I feel it too—sour and creeping, like something furry skittering down your spine in the dark.

I exhale and scratch the back of my neck. “Right, so, uh… I did.”

A pause. Clyde squints. “Yeah?”

I stare out across the field for a second, the grass swaying in waves like it’s breathing. Then I turn back to them.

“It said: ‘THE CARDINAL HAND SEES YOU.’”

More silence. Not the good kind.

“What the hell does that mean?” Veronica asks, voice low, eyes scanning the horizon like the message might’ve been accompanied by a stalking presence.

I shrug, but it’s the helpless kind. The ‘please don’t shoot the messenger’ kind.

“No idea. But I’ve seen it before,” I say. “The last time I was here—in this Realm—I got something similar. It was right before I used my Return Key to get back home. And now it’s back.”

Veronica mutters a curse under her breath.

Clyde runs a hand down his face. “Any idea what the Cardinal Hand is? Person? Monster?”

“Nope.” I sigh. “But I don’t like the fact that it sees me, and the System wants me to know.”

Veronica puts a hand on my shoulder. Firm. Grounding. “Well… thanks for telling us. Even if there’s nothing we can do about it right now. Better we know.”

“Yeah,” Clyde adds, quieter this time. “I appreciate you not keeping that to yourself.”

“Not really into the whole ‘withholding doom for dramatic tension’ thing,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant. “If some cosmic palm is about to come down out of no where and crush me, figured you guys should have front-row seats and not be entirely surprised.”

Jelly Boy burbles uncertainly from where he’s rolling through a patch of wildflowers, and for a second, I swear the blooms lean away from him like they’re afraid.

The moment passes and we continue our hike, though I can tell my news is sitting heavy on all of our minds.

We crest the next hill like a bunch of tourists in a horror movie: sweaty, hopeful, and with absolutely no idea what’s in store for us.

Honest-to-god farmland stretches out in the distance. Crops. Fences. A big wooden barn. A two-story house not much further. Beyond the farm there’s even a road. A dirt path cutting through the emerald fields beyond, snaking through scattered fields of wheat.

“Would you look at that,” Clyde mutters. “We’ve got potential civilization.”

I just grunt, still taking it all in.

“Let’s check it out,” he says, already halfway down the hill like the words summoned a magnet in his shoes.

“Yeah,” Veronica adds, one brow raised. “And let’s hope whoever we meet there is friendly and not, y’know...”

Jelly Boy buzzes in what I swear is a cautious hum. His wobbly little body jiggles with every bounce as he catches up.

The hill slopes gently at first, then sharply. My boots slip on a patch of loose dirt, and I almost faceplant, but a firm hand grabs my shoulder.

Veronica, of course. “Careful,” she says. “We haven’t even fought the dragon yet. Don’t need you taken out by your own bad footing.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, embarrassed but also kinda glad she’s here.

As we descend, I notice the farmland isn’t just quaint—it’s off. The wheat is too tall, too golden. It shimmers in the breeze like polished brass. The scarecrow in the middle of one field isn’t wearing old clothes. It’s wearing armor. Rusted, but still definitely once-functional plate mail, complete with a helmet that looks like it was gnawed on.

And it’s not hanging limp like a good scarecrow should.

Nope. It’s standing there.

At attention.

Watching us.

“Oh,” I say, voice a little higher than intended. “Cool scarecrow.”

Veronica glances at it. Her eyes narrow. “Let’s not go that way?”

“Agreed,” Clyde calls back, already halfway to the farmhouse. “Maybe we can find away around it?”

“And what if whatever that is,” I jerk my head towards the not-scarecrow scarecrow, “has already spotted us?”

“Optimism, Joseph,” Veronica says dryly. “Try it sometime.”

I do.

It dies immediately.