SMage CH 2 – Beggar
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He would have avoided looking at the twisted dead body if he had a choice, but the dead might have something the living needed to survive outside. A pouch of coins was certainly one of them, not to mention a wrapped bun of delicious smelling bread.

It was green in color, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Especially hungry beggars. The bread was already digesting in his stomach after his ravaging hunger got the best of him.

A smarter modern man would have questioned its edibility first. Though, what was important to him was what felt or tasted good.

The neck-twisted middle-aged man dressed in a simple robe tied together with a simple rope around the waist. Inside the robe, however, was a set of clothes that matched the weight of the coins on his body.

He had been careful while removing the small bag as he didn't know what kind of crime investigation capability this world had. It was better to be safe than sorry. There was also a dog tag around his neck with his name intricately carved on it.

Cornelius J. Reed. A fine name for a dead mage.

It told him two things for certain and one of them was the general naming scheme was somewhat familiar to his old world. They don’t have those odd vowels at least. The other thing he learned might work against him as the appearance of the tag had confirmed what had been written in the journal.

There is this Guild body who kept track of their members using the tag, and they would usually pay others to find the dead body for whatever reason. This meant the secret lair might not be so secret for long. It won't be a safe place to hide.

"Good knowing you, Mr. Cornelius," he muttered. "I think, maybe I'll call myself Reed, in the honor of your sacrifice," he chuckled darkly. "But I'm afraid, we must part ways."

He took the spellbook, tore a page from the journal, and the pouch before he took careful steps up the stairs. He had poured the oil on the stair in a way that others wouldn't suspect it was a foul play. It was as easy as placing the oil lamp on the top of the floor and knocking it down the stairs.

The delicate glass broke on the first drop and spilled the oil as naturally as it could be. The only thing that might seem unnatural was the amount of oil-filled into that single lamp. Not many would fill any lamp to the brim as he had done.

But why a mage wouldn't just use some sort of magic light was beyond him. Anyway, if the tragic ‘accident’ had caught up with him for some reason, he would have a valid proof of the reason why he killed the bastard. He even had a page for safekeeping if the lord-father made the journal disappear from the evidence box.

If the mage had other accomplices, they would have noticed the sound and came running to check. So far, no one has come and followed the example of the excellent mage. That should cover all of the possible holes in his plan for now.

The door opened to a simple wooden ladder which led up to a trapdoor. Above the trapdoor was a wooden shack with walls dangerously tilted to one side, leaning to a very tall wall. No squatters would make this place home and that fact ensured it as a perfect place to hide a secret entrance to a secret lair.

The outside was still slightly dark. The day should be just around the corner and so he waited for it. He filled that time by rubbing his bloodied rag shirt on the dirty floor, masking the red with dirty brown. The shorts had received the same treatment, both were recolored only on the outside, of course.

He was reminded of the spellbook as he waited for the daylight to come. Touching it this time had a big difference as the book gave out a dim glow in his hands.

 

[Absorb the knowledge for 40 Essence?]

 

A box popped up right above the book. He only needed to mentally agree before it happened. The faint glow enveloping the book traveled up from his hand into his body. He gasped in shock as weird sensations enveloped him.

The sensation wasn't painful as he was ready for that. He wasn’t ready for whatever this was. The next thing he knew it was already there inside his head.

The [Arcane Shell] and the spell’s other details exist in his head along with it. He knew how to activate the spell almost instinctively by drawing the spell with his finger in the air.

His finger and hand were shaking uncontrollably, but he had succeeded in only one try as if he was guided. He wasn't writing the whole spell with his finger, of course, only the rough overall shape while his mind filled in the details. He had completed the whole spell as if he had known them all along.

He poked the floating spell formation, and a sheen of almost invisible blue layer appeared around him in an instant. A gasp escaped his mouth before he fell onto his butt.

The sensation of something being drained from him had only added to the shock. It felt like one of those rare times he had done blood donation but a lot more pronounced. The sensation was clear enough for him to believe it was really happening instead of just all inside his head.

 

[Allocate the spell into a skill slot?]

 

Another box surprised him. 'I have a skill slot?' he mused.

He agreed to the box and then nothing noticeable happened. No click inside his head or any sensations he could tell for sure. He panicked a little before he recalled the talk between the mage and Lord Bastard.

'They say something about me having a Status?' he lamented.

Simply willing it to appear had changed everything he knew about himself.

 

[Name: Artus]

[Age: 12]

[Essence: 3]

[Status: Awakened (+28 Spirit)]

[Attributes]

[Body: 2]

[Mind: 5]

[Spirit: 31]

[Health Pool: 3/5]

[Mana Pool: 9/14]

[Affinity: Aether 15%]

[Core: Level 1]

[Skill Slot 1 - Arcane Shell]

 

His mother had indeed named him if he had to guess, and she had kept it secret from her own son for the boy's own sake. The dark thoughts of the woman allowing her only son to be experimented on disappeared from his mind.

She wouldn't have given him a name if she hadn't cared.

How much she cared was still a mystery but she had cared enough to think of a name for him. The boy in him wanted to believe that.

‘Artus is a fine name if anyone had asked me, and nothing is normal having such a high Spirit, whatever that means.’

The news didn't have much impact on his current situation as he didn’t know anything other than the obvious. Regardless, knowing he had a name had brought him some relief.

It also piqued his interest to know what had happened to the mother. He had lived that life as her son, but he just couldn’t feel the connection anymore to care. The woman was gone suddenly inside his memory which only left him with the other caretaker.

She was the one who tried her best to care for him as his dear mommy. Her kisses were even more frequent after the disappearance of the other as if he was a replacement for her dear lover. He couldn’t help it to think that something bad had happened to his birth mother.

He also had noticed something else. The [Arcane Shell] in the [Status] had a glimmer on it and his curious mind-finger poked on it.

Another layer of the curious-looking screen appeared.

Inside the floating transparent box was the spell formation from the book but in much greater detail. The way it was laid before he told him that he might be able to make adjustments to this spell formation.

Focusing on different parts of the whole formation told him the use of that specific part of the formation. The knowledge was there like a hint or something he had already known and only needed a nudge to recall.

It ranged from what the shell should look like and its size. He might not be completely sure what the symbols stood for, but he sure knew what it felt like.

It felt like programming.

The thing called mana had to be specifically told what to do.

The spell formation as a whole looked like a visualized program, all written in the alien language of this world. If he didn't know any better, spells formation are rules set by the caster to turn the intangible into the tangible. Turning the mana into whatever the caster wanted to be.

But he finds it odd to find no numbers. The [Mind] could give visual clues for the words used in the spell, but without numbers, the painted picture wouldn’t be as clear or precise.

Rather than changing the core program itself and potentially destroying the whole well-made spell formation, he opted to only add one other looping function of his own.

A really basic one. A 'Hello World' sort of thing.

A loud ring bell echoed throughout his surroundings. The sound reminded him of the boy's past when his mother brought him outside the mansion for the first time in his life. The sky in the blurry memory also fit and the sudden movements around him had him convinced.

The church will be giving away free food as the bell ends.

He got the coins to buy food if he had too, but what better time to mix into the crowd of beggars. What better time to take a survey of his immediate surroundings without any curious eyes questioning his actions.

Not that he was expecting anyone was looking for him. He also had never refused free food. It's blasphemy for him.

He wore the mask of a beggar kid named Artus as he slipped into the hurrying crowd of people. His stomach rumbled in agreement.

He stopped to hide the bag of coins on the way to the place. He was about to take a short piss in the alleyway to mask the smell of those coins before changing his mind. Nothing had come out from his bladder and so he had to risk losing it to pickpockets or whatever.

He arrived at the huge white building without any incident other than random pebbles making his bare foot's life a misery. Most of the beggars were men in their late age with a few kids and women mixed in the line of people. The queue was already long as he arrived and he joined in without much thought.

The slums weren't that far from the source of the ringing bell, especially from the edge of the general area where the dangerously leaning hut was located. Though he wasn't really sure which way it was again. If there was one weakness he had to admit, he would say his terrible sense of direction.

Of course, he wouldn't get randomly lost on his own like an idiot. He could figure out his way back to the hut. The only problem was to immediately tell where the hut was in relation to the church. Not that fact had any importance right now.

His long term health concerns went down to almost zero when the main streets in this city weren't full of horse shit or any kind of smelly recess. The city’s streets were kept nice and clean.

The back streets had an odd smell to it, but he could tell that the city had a working hygiene system at the very least. The well-placed small holes on the paved ground told him that there should be some sort of sewer down below.

He added that as another option in his choice.

The church had a huge courtyard with a few trees where the beggars ate their free food before the bowls were returned to the people in charge.

Returning bowls was a standard practice if he had to say or the church or whatever would run out of bowls every few days. The line moved slowly and there were a few who cut the line but he wasn't that hungry or in a hurry.

He was more interested to observe the observers.

All kinds of people had witnessed the poor beggars fighting over scraps of food. Some of them had pity in their eyes while others were mostly impartial.

He also hadn't seen anyone in a maidservant outfit walking or waiting around which was both relieving and concerning. His mother's face was blurry at best for some reason and he also didn't want her to find him here. It would only complicate things a lot.

The sky had offered him something to ponder about. The gigantic round object that dominated the amber sky had confirmed that he wasn’t on the planet called Earth. The huge thing in the sky was called Terra for a reason he didn’t know. He placed the question at the back of his mind because it wasn’t his immediate concern.

By the time he was about to receive his bowl of gruel, he already had a few plans set in mind. He ate and returned to his ‘home’ to rest and ponder his fate.

He lived in the slum for a few days doing absolutely nothing. Most of the time he would be toying with the spell, and most of the time the program would fail.

Regardless, he would never stop trying. In programming and a lot of other things, failing is the process of learning.

His strength returned slowly as his money ran out. Beggars spending money would have been suspicious, and so he acted like a boy slave, out to do his master’s bidding.

Staying in one place is also risky, and so he roamed the huge city. He slept in the back alleys during the night while he ignored the cries and silent screams of others. He wasn’t heroic enough to help others, and it could be a trap for all he knew.

The night was a lot brighter than any night in the old world thanks to the huge object in the night sky. He used both the day and night to gather any information. There wasn’t much but it was enough to concoct a feasible plan. It was about time too as his money had run out.

He lined up again for his last gruel in the city. There were three of them, the church’s charity center, and he was in the northern part of the city. The closest town was two days' ride from the northern gate.

He said his thanks as the slob of food slapped into his bowl before he heard something said to him. It made him pause for a second too long.

"Artus?" again said one of the pretty ladies who was standing behind the priests.

His innards twisted in uncertainty. He had seen a few of them helping in the charity drives but he hadn't really looked.

He walked away as if he hadn't heard the lady but the commotion behind him was worrying. His voice had probably given him away and it was proven right when a familiar feeling hand grabbed him by the arm.

 

 

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