Newly Summoned Demoness - Chapter 30 - New Arrivals

Taniel and the rest of the monks stopped and stared at the massive Darkwalker that the Mushroohums were butchering. The industrial process ended as they spread its remains across the cavern’s small moss fields. It was obviously a demon variant, so maybe they weren’t wrong that its flesh would act as a powerful fertilizer. He just had no idea how they had taken down a lesser demon with their primitive weapons.

Fal’ren Colony didn’t have any spellcasters as far as he or the Conclave was aware, and nothing short of an experienced adventuring party had any business facing off with a lesser demon. That there were any Mushroohums left was a miracle in itself
 for the village and the conclave mission.

Marcus, the group’s guide, let out an annoyed sigh. “You lot going to keep staring all day? I for one, am ready to set camp and get some rest.”

Taniel restrained his immediate dislike for the man and looked to the other monks. “Let’s go. We’ll ask about it later.”

The novices all nodded. Joren, his fellow senior monk for the expedition, raised an eyebrow. “Look at the wounds. Looks like a larger beast found it and mauled it to death.”

Taniel nodded. “I know. We should keep an eye out until we know more.”

One of the younger novices couldn’t hold back. “What could have done that?”

Marcus let out a jarring laugh. “Might be o’ one of the things ye lot hired me to keep you safe from. Don’t suppose the mushrooms learned to tame beasts, do ya? Maybe an Elder Razorscale.”

“Stop trying to scare the novices,” Joren warned.

Marcus laughed again. “There is no ‘trying’ about it.”

“I’ll remind you to keep to your job, Mercenary,” Taniel added.

“Aye, aye. We are here, aren’t we?” Marcus asked.

Joren let out an annoyed ‘Tsk’ before looking back at the demon corpse. “Two days late.”

“Looks like it saved us from dropping in on the fun,” Marcus countered.

Taniel frowned. He couldn’t argue with that, but he doubted it was anything other than dumb luck that they’d avoided the conflict because Marcus’ chosen path had been blocked and the backtracking took an entire day.

Marcus pointed a vicious smile to the half dozen teenage novices. “Don’t worry, boys. I’m sure we’ll find out more when we reach the chief. If something scarier than a Darkwalker jumps out, I’ll protect you.”

As they entered Fal’ren’s primary cavern, Marcus raised a horn to his lips and blew the sound across the landscape. It wasn’t really needed, but it was protocol to allow the leaders of the colony to know they had arrived.

But what riveted Taniel’s attention wasn’t the annoying [Ranger] they’d taken as a guide—it was the devastation laid out before them.

“Demon’s tits” One of the novices blurted.

Joren slapped the young man on the back of the head. “Mind your tongue,” Joren warned. “Keep your inner spirit calm, especially when faced with the unknown.”

As they picked their way down the slope toward the village, evidence of rebuilding came into view. A large workshop longhouse was a hive of activity as Mushroohums went about collecting debris and reprocessing it. Their methods were primitive, but that didn’t stop them from working quickly. Especially since they had the aid of modern equipment and tools.

The monks had carried exactly that sort of things in the baskets on their backs as part of the trade agreement with the colony.

Dozens of corpses of Mushroohum and Darkwalkers alike were being carried away, which probably meant they would see a massive population explosion soon. The village and ruins themselves looked mostly intact except for one section of the stonework that had crumbled into a pile of broken bricks.

Taniel spotted the large bolt thrower that had been sold a few seasons prior and smiled. It had probably been what had allowed them to defeat the demon.

Joren grabbed his shoulder and pointed to the ceiling. “Taniel, look.”

The massive burnt circle of dead hanging moss was like a punch in the stomach. The [Glow-Moss] that the conclave needed was only able to grow in the deep caverns where mana pooled heavily. It was extremely flammable and dangerous to work with, but was critical to the supply of potions. Especially the sort they used to unlock a new monk’s full potential.

The Mushroohums tended to the moss and sold it to them in bulk. Once it started burning, there was hardly any way to stop the process other than severing the burnt area. So how had they preserved the rest of the growth?

The question drew his eyes to the massive puncture in the cavern’s roof; it looked as if a massive hand had driven a spike into the rock. Whatever had happened was on a much larger scale than he had assumed.

“Surprised there is anything left,” Marcus grumbled.

That was something they could agree on.

Looking up at the ruins, two red dots seemed to look down on them. A sudden instinctual fear sent his heart pounding in his chest. Joren shot him a sharp look as the other monk felt the sudden instability in his spirit. He closed his eyes and focused himself back into a tranquil pond.

When he looked up at the spot again, there was nothing there.

He had been seeing things, surely. There was no way an unbound demon was loose in the cavern. The Mushroohums were all still alive.

***

Skinner left her to what she assumed was to speak with the leadership; the king, or prince, or whatever. So Elania had found a comfy place on top of one of the ruin towers that hadn’t been collapsed by the ballista bolt. In the distance, she watched the group of humans, or what she assumed were humans, approaching.

Being too far away to [Identify], she wasn’t able to confirm.

More importantly, she’d been filled with the need to find the highest spot possible in the cavern to perch on and watch. That was mildly annoying, but when the same type of urge prompted her to lick her hands to clean them, she’d rebelled and wrapped them up in strips of cloth. The wraps didn’t help the urge, but licking the coarse leather-like fabric was far enough out of the question that it squelched the desire.

Elania devoted her attention to the approaching group as they came closer. All of them but the leader were carrying large baskets on their backs, and each one had a small glowing lantern. The leader was dressed much as she would have imagined a fantasy ranger would: A cloak, a bow on his back and a sword at his hip, while he held up a torch that glowed with magic instead of fire.

The last was probably a smart thing, considering the flammability of certain flora in the caverns.

When she could finally start to make out their faces, she was finally able to use [Identify].

[Novice Monk - Human - Lvl 23]

[Novice Monk - Human - Lvl 19]

[Novice Monk - Human - Lvl 31]

[Novice Monk - Human - Lvl 17]

[Holy Monk - Human - Lvl 87]

[Martial Monk - Human - Lvl 95]

[Ranger - Human - Lvl 276]

An uneasiness settled in the back of her mind. Her very first instinct to find a higher place to watch from, she could attribute to the newly maximized [Darkwalker] affinity from absorbing so many of them. Whether or not that was a permanent effect, she did not know. It was something she could live with, she thought, since it didn’t seem to override her own will.

What if other humans didn’t see it that way? The sight of other humans, while a relief, was also terrifying in its own way.

Humans could be far more vicious and terrible than beasts.

Not that she had much personal experience with that, considering her relatively safe and sheltered childhood growing up in a relatively well-off middle-class family. Yet she’d learned a lot from history books, social media, and entertainment news channels. It probably didn’t help that her mom loved watching the crime-drama shows and whodunits.

The fact that her [Status] plastered ‘Lesser-Demon’ on her as her ‘race’ instead of ‘human’ was also a major concern and red flag that things weren’t going to go smoothly.

The paladin who had tried to murder her upon arrival had certainly taken it at face value.

And yet


It would be nice to be able to talk to someone. The smelly burps that the Mushroohums somehow found communication were not ideal for fostering conversation. She was fairly confident that her [Universal Speech] skill would work unless they somehow used sign language or something.

She had tried writing, too. Unfortunately, the scribblings she had made received little acclaim. She’d looked for any sign of the written word from the Mushroohums, but found nothing but oddly glowing runes scattered about the ruins.

Her writing skill apparently didn’t apply to magical runes.

Which was frustrating. There were too many limitations to a lot of things that she didn’t know or understand.

Taking a last look at the approaching party, Elania decided she needed to prepare. Her makeshift sack and leather belt weren’t going to make a very good impression. She had seen little in the way of tailored apparel, but she had seen plenty of material and tools. Jumping off the tower, she landed outside and made her way to the workshops where she’d seen such.

She wasn’t sure what her status or rights were in regard to taking material, but the Mushroohums seemed to live communally, and her association with Skinner had given her some type of protection. She doubted it would permit her to grab tons of stuff willy-nilly without any purpose, but the Mushroohums didn’t bat an eye when she took a roll of [Darkwalker] leather, some of the red-hued fabric, and a set of sewing tools and thread.

Finding a relatively sheltered alcove that was out of sight, it was time to put her cos-play production experience to the test. There was no chance she’d make something really nice, at least not on such short notice, but upgrading her sack to a pair of trousers and a simple blouse, with a nice set of foot and hand wraps to go with it, wasn’t impossible.

Especially when she trickled a small amount of [Power] into her movements, allowing her to move quicker and more accurately than she ever had been able to on Earth. Turning into an organic sewing machine wasn’t quite the experience she’d expected, but at least it was effective.

Even the [System]seemed to approve.

[Skill evolution criteria met. Reprocess the ‘Survival Crafting’ Rank C, into ‘Basic Handcrafting’ Rank E? Y/N?]

The question would have been much easier to answer if she’d had more information. At least this was a good skill to test on; [Survival Crafting] might have been nice to make javelins, but was that really necessary for her to survive now? Not really.

Being able to create nicer things would be more useful. Plus, there was probably considerable overlap
maybe the new skill would even include all the abilities of the previous one, or even enhance them?

“Only one way to find out,” Elania murmured. The message disappeared and a confirmation appeared.

[The skill Basic Handcrafting has been acquired. For upgrading your first skill, a fourth active skill slot has been acquired. Basic Handcrafting has been selected automatically.]

“Oh,” she mumbled. That was a nice perk. How many active skill slots could she earn?

She spent another two hours working on the outfit, making a rough backpack to go along with it. By the end, she had workable underwear as well. She tested each thing out and made sure it was comfortable to wear. No mirror to check on how hideous it looked, but there was no way the two-toned color scheme was worse than a black sack tied up around her middle.

Even if that seemed to be the normal Mushroohum fashion choice other than the ‘royal’ guards and the prince enjoyed. Her hand froze as she finished wrapping her feet. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be angry with her when they saw she used some of their red fabric.

Fixing up her mana shard went next: she made a little pouch for it and a loop that went around her neck.

That sorted everything she could do with what she had, so she returned what she hadn’t used and picked up a few of the available spears; the shorter ones more suited to throwing. They went into sheathes she’d worked into the side of her backpack.

That left her feeling as prepared as she’d be on short notice. She felt like there was at least a better chance the new arrivals wouldn’t react poorly at the sight of her. Self-dressed huntress in a cave woman outfit was better than a half-naked one wearing an oversized sack, right?

Being left alone had its benefits, but she quickly found that there was a major drawback: she had no idea what she was supposed to be doing or where to go. Lack of communication with the Mushroohums meant she did not know if they even wanted her to meet the ranger and monks.

Where the heck was Skinner, anyway? Following him around would probably lead to the best results, or at least put her near a potential ally. She was pretty sure that his intervention was what had kept relations cordial after the battle.

As soon as she had the thought to locate him, a strange surety filled her that he was up in the ruins. Whether that was her [Tracking] skill doing some kind of magic, her new weird [Darkwalker] senses doing something, or just some weird hunch
 she did not know. Actually, without going and checking it out, she had no idea it was accurate.

So that was exactly what she did. Skipping the stone stairs, she jumped up onto a roof, then climbed her way up the stone wall.

The freedom felt exhilarating. Fear didn’t even prick her; if she fell, she’d land safely. Vertical movement perk, acquired.

When she reached the top, one of the guards noticed her immediately and let out a stinky challenge “Glaa!” at her. He stomped and looked angry, but she just stood and stared. Eventually he resorted to pointing at her to follow him, which she obliged.

The royal chamber was much brighter than she remembered. The addition of seven humans and their light-sources tended to do that. A glowing orb floating in the ranger’s hand was doing its part, too.

The prince, Skinner, and the humans seemed to be locked in a fierce staring contest, with the orb acting as moderator. Mushroohums were busy moving baskets back and forth in some kind of choreographed game.

Her escort led her into the chamber and then let out an informative “Glaa.” that attracted the Mushroohum’s attention, even King Shroom who had been quietly napping.

The highly structured and orderly meeting of musical baskets stopped abruptly, and a few things happened at once.

The Ranger drew his sword and pointed it at her; the metal shimmering with a blue sheen that enveloped his entire body.

The younger novice monks clustered up into a terrified ball behind their two higher-ranked members, one of them letting out a terrifying screech.

The prince gestured toward her emphatically while spewing shit smell everywhere.

All the ‘Royal Guard’ lowered their stupidly long pikes at every human in the room—including her.

Skinner looked at her with a mushroom expression she could only call resigned. When his mental voice sounded in her head—and she was sure it was him somehow—her jaw dropped.

“The Honored One’s timing is impeccable as ever,” Tre’gat’aru transmitted. The smell of irony was like citrus.

Elania glanced at the Ranger and tried to give him a friendly smile. “It looks very intimidating, but do you really want to fight?”

She wasn’t sure what she did wrong as the monk novices seemed to somehow fold in closer to each other.

Introductions were off to a great start!