TravelingDreamer
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B5—Chapter 44: Chemical Warfare & Tough Decisions
🕑 Added 2025-02-06 11:47:37 +0000 UTCWhen Al came down for breakfast, I almost choked. The moment he stepped into the living room, a wave of suffocating foul smell engulfed me. Thick and pungent, it reeked of patchouli, camphor, cloves, eucalyptus, and a cocktail of other unholy fumes I couldn’t even name. The stench punched the air like a physical force, coating the back of my throat. My eyes burned and watered instantly, and I hacked out a cough, trying to breathe through my sleeve.
Poor Rue jerked back like he’d just taken a noseful of poison. His whole body shuddered violently as he let out a loud sneeze—then another, and another. Each one rocked his massive frame, legs wobbling like he might fall over. He spun in a full-blown panic, paws scrabbling against the floor. With a final wheezing, desperate whine, he bolted out the door like his life depended on it.
Mahya wasn’t far behind. Her head snapped toward Al, eyes widening in horror. She used her Jump skill with a sharp whoosh, landing near the main door in a blur of motion. "Spirits! You stink!" she shouted and gagged, half-hidden behind the doorframe, one hand clamped over her nose.
I yanked my shirt up over my face, voice muffled but urgent. "Cast Clean on yourself, now! I can't breathe!"
Al crossed his arms and glared at both of us. "I did," he said, voice dark with irritation. "It proved ineffective."
Mahya let out a half-choked groan. Her face scrunched up. I wasn’t faring much better. My lungs burned, and my vision swam.
"So go take a shower," I snapped, words half-coughed out. "It's awful."
Al’s eyes flicked between me and Mahya—her still plastered against the door like the house was on fire. His shoulders drooped, his usual stiff posture deflating. With a deep sigh that somehow telegraphed the weight of a tragic hero, he turned and trudged up the stairs like a man walking to his execution.
I watched him go, blinking through watery eyes, barely resisting the urge to gag. What the hell had he done to himself? And why did he look so defeated when we were the ones maliciously assaulted by a weaponized stench?
The entire space still stank—thick, cloying, and inescapable. The air felt heavy, saturated with the lingering assault of Al’s ungodly concoction. Since I opened my house inside one of the ruined buildings against a wall, all the inner space was part of a sealed 'dungeon dimension'—no windows or vents—I couldn’t air it out. The stench wasn’t going anywhere.
I locked eyes with Mahya, both of us visibly recoiling. A full-body shudder rippled through us at the same time.
Not taking any chances, I swiftly stored the food, shielding it from the chemical warfare still thick in the air. No way was I letting breakfast absorb whatever foul alchemical disaster Al had drenched himself in.
I told the house, “Absorb the fumes from the air.”
Five minutes in, and nothing changed. The air still hung thick with the lingering stench, the noxious cloud refusing to dissipate.
In the meantime, Mahya had taken the only logical course of action—fleeing. She’d followed Rue straight outside, abandoning me to deal with it alone.
I sighed, choked, and stepped out after them.
Outside, Mahya and Rue claimed the middle of the street as their recovery zone. Rue lay sprawled out, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths, nostrils flaring like he was still trying to purge the tainted air.
Mahya sat beside him, scratching his ears. “Shh. Don’t worry, it will pass eventually.”
Rue let out a pitiful whine, his big, purple eyes full of doubt. Clearly, he wasn’t convinced.
I set a bowl of water in front of him. “Wash your nose out.”
With a grunt, he lowered his snout, inhaled the water, and immediately sneezed, sending water spraying in every direction like a bomb. Mahya yelped, ducking sideways, while I barely shielded my face.
After a few more choking, snorting sneezes, Rue finally stilled, his breathing evening out. The wheezing stopped.
I watched him warily. "Better?"
Rue gave a slow, dramatic nod, then flopped onto his side with a relieved groan.
At least he survived the attack.
We sat in the middle of the street until Al finally emerged from the house. He smelled slightly better, but not by much. Rue sniffed the air, sneezed violently, and bolted another fifty meters away. Mahya and I exchanged glances, relieved that at least we could breathe—barely. Just in case, we moved five meters back as well.
I tilted my head, eyes narrowing. “What did you do?”
Al crossed his arms. “I am trying to create a snake repellent.”
Mahya let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. “You sure created a human repellent.”
His brow furrowed. “It is not that bad.”
Mahya and I snapped in unison, “Yes, it is!”
Al sighed, rubbing his temple like we were the ones being unreasonable.
I leaned forward, arms resting on my knees. “Why does it stink so bad?”
“I worked with essential oils.”
“I know essential oils. They don’t stink that bad,” I said.
Al waved a hand dismissively. “Your perception trait is high.”
I gave him a flat look. “Try again, buddy.”
He looked away. “I might have enhanced the smell with an alchemical solution.”
Mahya stared at him in disbelief. “How did you survive?”
His shoulders squared, chin lifting. “I have a skill that protects me from my own creations.”
I squinted at him. “Even smell?”
He gave a slow, smug nod and stuck his nose up.
“You need to take another shower, a long one,” I said. “We won’t be able to work with you in an enclosed space.”
“You are exaggerating.”
Mahya crossed her arms. “Can you deactivate your skill?”
Al nodded.
“So deactivate it, go smell the living room, and tell us it’s not that bad,” she said.
With a dramatic spin on his heels, he marched back inside like a man on a mission.
Twenty minutes later, he reappeared, looking extra pink.
Mahya and I cautiously approached, exchanging wary glances. We leaned in, sniffed—then recoiled.
Still a no-go.
“I think you need to brave John’s Killer Clean,” Mahya said.
Al jerked back. “I will do no such thing.”
I tilted my head. “Do you have teeth fillings?”
“Of course not!” he snapped, his tone full of indignation.
I patted his shoulder—then immediately regretted it. The moment my hand made contact, the stench intensified, rolling off him in a fresh wave of horror. “So you’ll be fine,” I said, grimacing as I wiped my hand on my pants. “Just lose some skin. It’s a dead layer anyway, so it won’t be such a big loss.”
Al’s shoulders slumped. I almost patted his shoulder again but stopped myself at the last moment.
“I do not wish to ruin these clothes.”
“No problem, let’s go up to your room.”
Before heading back inside, I took a deep lungful of fresh air, put on two surgical masks, and sprinted through the living room and up the stairs.
In Al’s room, he stripped down, and I cast Aggressive Clean on him. The moment the spell hit, he bolted for the bathroom.
I snickered. The prince doesn’t want me to see him losing skin.
His room stank as well, so I sprinted back out. I rubbed my face, exhaling sharply. I needed to find a solution to air out the house. We couldn’t live like this.
When he joined us for the third time, the difference was noticeable. Even Rue cautiously sniffed the air, then padded closer without recoiling. There was still a lingering smell, but now it was muted, subtle enough to pass as an odd, eccentric perfume rather than a full-blown chemical attack.
I set up the table outside, right in the middle of the street, laying out our food and Rue’s bowl.
Yes, Rue ate with us at the table. That started a while back, and his reasoning had been: “Rue is adventurer too.”
I never quite saw the correlation between being an adventurer and having a seat at the table, but didn’t see a reason to argue.
After breakfast, I closed the house, told the gang to head off without me, then turned invisible and flew toward the tallest building in the ruined city.
On the roof, I told the core, “Open in the smallest configuration with lots of windows and doors.”
The house expanded into a compact form, maximizing ventilation. I swung open every window and door, letting the stench escape.
Then I waited.
Two hours passed. The scent lingered—stubborn but no longer suffocating. I also cast Aggressive Clean on every surface and fabric, which improved the situation but still didn't eliminate it. It was bearable—for now. This was the best I could do. Shaking off the annoyance, I focused. I had a task in the settlement.
When I reached the inner gate, I asked the guard, “Do you know where I can find Lady Almatai?”
He gestured toward a building nearby. “I saw her go into the administration building.”
I thanked him and headed there.
When I walked into her office, surprise flickered across her face for the briefest moment. I would have missed it if I hadn’t been watching. Then, her features settled back into their usual cold, imperious stillness—severe and unreadable.
“John,” she said, her tone neutral.
“Good morning. Do you have a few minutes? I have something to discuss with you.”
She gestured toward the chair across from her. When I sat, she watched me silently.
I wasn’t sure how to start, so I just went for it. “My friends and I talked last night and decided we want to help your settlement.”
Something flickered across her face—so brief it was gone before I could place it. She still said nothing.
I pressed on. “Al is willing to take up to five apprentices to teach Alchemy and train your guards in sword fighting. Mahya is willing to teach wood artistry and Magitech—”
She cut me off, her tone sharp. “What is Magitech?”
“The adaptation of technology to work on magic.”
Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline.
Go me! I actually made her show a reaction.
I waited, giving her space to respond, but she said nothing, her expression as unreadable as ever.
So, I continued. “I will train Rima to be a healer, and depending on my success, I’d be willing to take on more apprentices. We also have some other resources we’re willing to share, but before I tell you about them, I have a question. Have you ever—”
She cut me off again, her voice sharp. “Where do you come from?”
My head jerked back slightly, brows drawing together. “What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I asked.” Her gaze remained steady, unwavering. “Where do you come from?”
I studied her. “Why do you ask?”
“Because you don’t look like us.” She tilted her head slightly, eyes sharp. “Correction—Mahya resembles the people from the south, but you and Al don’t. You don’t speak like us, you don’t dress like us, and most of all, you don’t act like us.”
“Does it really matter?” I asked, studying her expression.
She met my gaze without hesitation. “To me, it does.”
I exhaled through my nose. “From a different continent.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Which one?”
Here, I was stumped. The stupid Map of this world didn’t have names on it.
After a beat, I shook my head. “I’ll keep that information to myself for now—it doesn’t really matter. But I have a question. What do you mean we don’t speak like you? We speak the same language.”
She tilted her head slightly. “You use strange expressions and turns of phrase I’ve never heard before.”
“I see.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Anyway, as I was saying—where we’re from doesn’t matter. What matters is that we’re willing to help, and you need that help. So, are you willing to accept it, or is our origin a deal-breaker?”
She pointed a sharp finger at me. “Here is an example.”
I shrugged and waited, curious to hear her response.
“You said you had a question.”
I was momentarily puzzled, then recalled where she had cut me off. “Yes—have you ever considered relocating the settlement?”
She stared at me, mouth slightly open, frozen in place. It was the most emotion I’d ever seen from her. After a second, she snapped out of it. “NO!”
“Why not?”
Her expression hardened, anger flashing across her face. For a split second, she almost looked like the angry demon emoji come to life. “Because I will not move seventeen thousand people to start anew. It took us nine years to build this city. We are not going to abandon it on a whim.”
“Your location is shit,” I said.
“It is not,” she snapped.
“Oh, please. It’s shit, and you know it,” I said, throwing up my hands. “You’re a smart woman.”
She stiffened, eyes narrowing, but I pushed on.
“You’re too close to two hostile cities, and their residents come to attack you whenever they’re bored,” I pointed out. “You don’t have a natural water source, so you’re completely dependent on wells. And you’ve got a snake-infested forest right outside your gate.”
I leaned forward, fixing her with a look. “And the worst part? You have endless fields, orchards, and herds just a short distance away—resources that could support you for years, even if your city tripled in size. But you have a serious issue getting to them.”
I spread my hands, waiting for her to argue. “So you tell me—how exactly is this not a shitty location?”
“We have old Almetina to scavenge,” she countered, her tone firm.
I tilted my head, unimpressed. "The agricultural region has plenty of residential homes, barns, and production buildings to keep scavengers busy for years. It also has a wide, lazy river with a dense forest on the other bank.
"And the best part? If the bastards from the neighboring cities want to keep attacking you, they’ll have to go through the snakes. I’m sure that’ll thin their numbers—either by death or sheer terror."
I crossed my arms, letting the points sink in. “So tell me again—why cling to this place when there’s a better option?”
“Because it took us years to build it!” she shouted, her voice sharp with frustration.
She shook her head and looked down. “I can’t ask my people to start from zero again. It will kill them.”
The last sentence came out as a whisper, barely more than a breath.
“I can help with that,” I said in a soft voice.
Her head jerked up. “How?”
I placed four spell scrolls on the table: Fuse Stone, Bind Timber, Reinforce Bedrock, and Lift Block, and waited for her to Identify them. “I have nine of each. That will speed up your construction tenfold. I can also scout for a suitable location and take you there to check it out for yourself.”
She stiffened.
“Don’t worry,” I assured her, leaning back slightly. “You’ll be safe the whole time and can bring up to seven or maybe even nine guards, depending on their size.”
She studied me, brow furrowing.
I shrugged. “Our unique mode of transportation has a weight limit.”
She stared at me blankly.
I waved it off with a casual flick of my hand. “You’ll see.”
I waited a few minutes, giving her time to say something, but she remained silent.
With a sigh, I slapped my thighs and stood. “Okay. I have patients to treat, and you need time to think.”
When I reached the door, I paused and glanced back at her. “Remember our conversation about mana?”
Her brows lifted slightly. “Yes?”
“You need to work on that,” I said, leaning against the frame. “Right now, you’re holding yourself together with iron control. It has its uses, I won’t argue. But if you want to progress your mana, you must let go—let your emotions flow freely. Otherwise, you’ll be stuck for years.”
She gave me a curt nod. I took that as my cue to leave.
Comments
tethra
Also doesn't help that she probably doesn't have anyone that she trusts to let her guard down around or talk about anything emotional, but if she were to open up to her people they would probably be more loyal, leading to her finding people she could trust.
Angela Roberts
Sure, tell the woman barely keeping it together to let go. He's right, it's just so counterintuitive and to a woman like her, in that situation, near impossible.
