My efforts in the mines are being well rewarded.
I initially planned to keep a low profile because I didn't want people to be on my case too much. But the reality is I'm itching to get out of the mines.
I'm itching more than I had realized even.
And at night, as soon as I close my eyes, I see myself as a Knight. I see myself as clearing monster hordes by myself with a flaming sword… Maybe I could settle for a lightning sword.
But, see, I've always been fascinated by fire.
We'll see.
Perhaps one day I might find one of the famous thirteen Divine Flames.
For now, I have to figure out a why to kill monsters.
The only problem is that despite The Grimoire Extraordinaire being so powerful, it's still only a Support Skill.
Without an Offensive Skill, I cannot do much.
Sure, I have kept training. And you would be surprised by the amount of progress I've made on my skills. Iron Grip has reached level 89. Minor strength, two, is now in the 80s at level 82. Light is the only real spell I can practice, and it's currently level 67. From what I understand about Skill Crystals, some nobles purposefully take the least evolved version of one Skill and max it out before acquiring the next.
Apparently, that carries significant benefits over.
I've done some research this week, and I've confirmed this much.
The only problem regarding the Light Skill is that without a Mana Pool Skill, whose weakest version starts at Silver, I can't really hope to do much.
And even with the amount of extra silver I've been pulling from the mines, the cut I get on the extra ore is not going to make me rich enough to get a Mana Pool Skill Crystal.
Mana Pool is not only incredibly useful, but it's also something that most people need and covet for their offspring. That is one of the reasons why its price, despite being a Silver Skill Crystal, is several gold coins.
Currently, the lowest I've found it—at a merchant who passed through Shit's Creek two days ago—was 15 gold coins.
Even with the foreman begrudgingly paying me for my extra work, I've only accumulated one gold coin and nine silvers—for reference, a gold coin is worth a hundred silvers.
The problem is that Mana Pool is a skill that anyone with any aspiration of becoming a knight needs.
I shake my head as I finish loading a cart full of silver. This is going to net me two silver coins.
And even though I've been leveling up my Pickaxe Mastery and Minor Mineral Sense like crazy, I haven't really had the time to do anything else.
Now that I think about it, you could consider Minor Mineral Sense some sort of a spell.
It does work by injecting mana into your eyes through the right channels, and bit by bit I've been refining its flaws thanks to The Grimoire Extraordinaire, and it's now sitting at a comfy Level 72. Right by the time I exit the mines with my cart and leave it for the ore to be weighed and counted under my eyes, I hear a familiar voice.
"Hey, pipsqueak."
I turn to find Clayton.
"The foreman's calling an assembly. Apparently he has an important announcement for us."
"I still have to wait for my ore to be counted, Clayton," I reply. "I don't want even half bronze to be taken off my due wage. I want to leave this place as soon as I can. Thank you."
* * *
It took Luthor nearly a week to find the Skill Crystal so that the contest could start.
Luthor had actually planned it in a very straightforward way.
Jacob was clearly onto something.
He had probably found a way—perhaps paid a tutor at a fortunate encounter—to raise his mining-related Skills.
That much was assured.
There was no way the young rascal could achieve such results with his yields in the mines. In other circumstances, Luthor would have been happy that one of his men started pulling more of his weight around; he might have even considered turning him into a shift leader and eventually having him replace him as foreman in the mines as he became the director.
But, of course, the only person to show such talent had to be the most insufferable, uncooperative kid there was. There were hierarchies to follow and seniors to respect, but Jacob Cloud was only interested in his pipe dream of one day becoming a Knight.
Luthor knew that if he let the kid run wild any longer, he would lose all the respect of his workers and of his own boss. What kind of foreman lets a sixteen-year-old kid make a mockery of him?
That's why he devised the contest. The contest was pretty straightforward: He was going to divide the miners into groups. He and a few engineers had scoured tunnels to make sure that Jacob would get the most dangerous, least-yielding tunnel.
Luthor figured the boy would probably die in that shaft. That's why he assigns a few old workers to the crew—men who aren't worth their wages anymore but who, because of their seniority, he can't start underpaying.
Once the tunnel collapses on them all, the foreman thinks cunningly, I will just blame Jacob, call him greedy, and say that he is responsible for their death.
Luthor waits until every lantern hangs steady and the yard falls silent. He tucks his clipboard under one arm and speaks.
"Listen up. We bought a Silver‑grade Skill Crystal to incentivize you guys," Luthor lies through his teeth. He had no intention of incentivizing anyone. He wanted Clayton, his trusted man, to receive this Skill Crystal so that he could practice more Skills that would make him jump from being a simple miner to a proper engineer. "It's a Mana Pool Skill Crystal, and, to motivate everyone, we will settle this with a contest. Ten crews of five will work three marked shafts for one week. The load with the highest value—weight times purity and mana—wins the crystal. The miner who raked the most ore will get the Crystal, the others will get one gold coin each on top of any extras they have mined. The others get nothing but blisters."
The crowd shifts, nerves mixing with greed, and Luthor lets the feeling spread.
"Rules are simple. Start at the bell and stop only when you feel like stopping. I warn you, touch another crew's pile and you all forfeit and face the Guild marshals."
Luthor starts assigning crews and, when the time comes, he scans the miners until he finds Jacob Cloud. The young man cranes forward, his grin sharp.
I'll wipe that smile right off your face, Cloud.
"You," Luthor says, "lead Crew Three. Orvick, Reese, Hayes, Knox, you're with him. Shaft Three waits, so feed it."
Luthor fully expects Jacob to throw a fit, so when he sees him completely cool, he frowns. He has just assigned him the worst people one could wish for—old men who're not just past their primes but are basically just mascots in the mines.
Jacob keeps his eyes on Luthor, hunger bright enough to unsettle the veterans. Luthor hides a smile in his beard; the boy looks ready to rip through bedrock with bare hands.
"Questions?" Luthor asks.
Jacob answers at once.
"Does the winning crew keep the crystal? No guild cut?"
"Exactly. Work fast and clean, and the Mana Pool Skill Crystal is yours."
In your dreams, Luthor added mentally.
Jacob nods once and turns to the old men who had gathered behind him.
"I hope you won't mind having a youngster lead," Jacob said, sort of embarrassed. "I promise I'll do my best to win this for us."
Reese, Hayes, and Knox all scowled at that, about to turn their shoulders to him when Orvick, the oldest of the bunch, an old guy so old he looked ready to be turned to dust by a gentle breeze, cleared his voice.
"You don't worry about us old farts," Orvick smiled with only a few teeth remaining. "Even the old oaks have to die eventually to make space for the young sap."
Seeing Orvick, the most respected man in the mines, bless Jacob, the others sigh and shake their heads, resigning themselves to following.
Pathetic. Orvick, Luthor thinks you should have stayed home instead of coming here just to chat and bother my crews. I'm sorry, old pal, you're about to go together with those other useless bastards.
Orvick had seen Luthor grow up and even helped him, but he had always refused to leave the mines, saying that he had no family to speak of and didn't want to simply rot in Shit's Creek village. He even offered to take no pay as long as he could stay and try to help, however he could.
Luthor, however, still pays Orvick even today.
It would be too insulting for the oldest man in the mines not to get paid.
One less mouth to feed. It's a pity I shall crash the young sap with you old oaks, but sometimes you must cut the bad grass before it infests.