A New Kind Of Grind

"I think I wanna visit the Red Forest, and see if there're any elves there with the Extra Class Slots 4 Trait," I said.

"...Okay?" Nel said, frowning. "That... uh... the Red Forest is a fairly militarized society, Roxy. They're, uh... not exactly on an open-borders basis."

"Especially not with, say, Vega-descended people, given that Vega is the reason they are so heavily militarized," Nicky added. "Landing a plane in the Red Forest, even if you could achieve that without crashing, would likely get you perforated with arrows."

"They'd try to perforate me with arrows," I said. "I'm a Level 13 Trickster, and the highest-level natives on Azel are also Level 13, just without the special classes, and also, those are only the highly-trained elites who've been delving every day of their adult lives for like thirty years."

"It's more complicated than that," Anzerath said. "Dorn is on a fairly tame continent without much ambient magic- the Dungeon Gates eat most of it. However, on every other continent, the ambient magic levels are a lot higher, and can support native, non-dungeon monsters."

"...Wait, what?"

"You know how I'm a dragongirl, and not just a dragon the way Nel and El are just elves? Well, just like how a lot of low-Rarity monstergirls have animal counterparts- should really just be called animalgirls, but that's an argument for later- a lot of high-Rarity monstergirls have monster counterparts. Dragons are the best-known, and most feared variety of monster; they're born as unusually-quick warm-blooded six-legged lizards the size of housecats with both fire and poison breath attacks, which can sustain themselves on the ambient magic of just about every continent besides Arnshem- that's what this continent was called before Dorn was settled- but will, as they grow bigger from successful hunts and fights, develop their middle pair of legs into wings, and eventually awaken, turning into proper dragons that make their own magic energy, and can, in theory, live pretty much anywhere in the world, even here on Arnshem."

"In theory," I repeated, "because in practice, I assume, all of these monsters, dragons included, are hunted by people on other continents both to eliminate the threat they pose to their communities, and also for XP?"

"Pretty much," Anzerath said, nodding. "Although, funnily enough, despite Dorn's cultural imperatives towards research and development and scholarly pursuits and general tinkering and innovation, pretty much everyone in Dorn's upper echelons will agree that Dorn is probably pretty poorly-suited to dealing with monster incursions, compared to everywhere else in the world, simply because we have, as a people, been out of practice for the past three hundred years. We don't even get sirens or krakens in our seas, because there's no ambient magic to sustain them. No, the reason Dorn doesn't get any dragons coming to live here is because there's no ambient magic for them to sustain themselves on, and just because dragons can survive that doesn't mean they like it."

"Alright, well..." I hummed. "...So, if there is a kind of giant flying predatory monster in this world, and probably more kinds than just dragons... well, that'll probably put a damper on global air travel, won't it?"

"Yes and no," Nicky said. "If you could build a small, fast, and nimble airplane with guns on it, then flying monsters should pose no problem; if I recall the course I took in second year, then flying monsters are, in fact, the most vulnerable while in flight, because the energy they would otherwise be expending on augmenting their defenses is occupied simply keeping them in the air. Give every passenger plane a pair of fighter escorts, and every monster in the sky will either learn to fear the sounds of propellers or die by gunfire."

"Fair," I said. "Anyhow, that's not really the point; the point is that I want to visit the Red Forest, and they may very well have some eight hundred year old Level 20 gigachad monster slayer who'll rip me in half the long way if I don't ask permission before visiting."

"Well, no, there aren't any Level 20s in the world, we're pretty sure," Anzerath said.

"They've run the numbers, and taken a lot of measurements," Akane added. "Even if the entire surface of the world produced as much ambient magic as the Frozen Wells near the South Pole, that still wouldn't make enough monsters in a thousand years to let a single-class Ranger get to Level 20. The actual dynamic is that, gradually, all of the monsters are individually growing in power, until finally, one manages to get strong enough to reach Level 14, which happens... what, once a century or so? And never in the same place twice in a row. And slaying a Level 14 monster, if you do it alone, is enough to get to Level 15. So, Dorn's Level 15 delvers aren't unique in terms of being more powerful than anything else in the world, they're unique in that we have a lot of them, whereas every other country in the world is lucky to have one."

"...You know what, I think we're getting sidetracked, which is kind of hilarious," I said. "So, I'm gonna just... build a long-range messenger drone, fly it to the border of the Red Forest, and request permission to visit before flying over there."

"That'll probably work," Nel said. "Want some help designing it?"

"Sure."

My new phone rang, and I hurriedly cast a spell to prepare myself, before answering it. It wasn't really a phone, strictly speaking; it was more like the classic paired magic mirror, with the innovation being that the enchantment wasn't on a fragile piece of glass, and instead on a sturdy metal box that would then project the image in midair. It wasn't my invention, either- someone named Wilhelmina Schenk had invented it about eighty years ago, and it was cited as a foundational component of the Dornish Cell Phone Network.

On the other side of the mirror, a regal looking elf sat upon a throne, studying me intently. She wore a red cape, and a rose-gold crown with motifs of twisting vines and spiked leaves.

"And you would be the Dornish woman who wishes to visit us?" the elf asked.

"I am," I said, nodding to her. "My name is Roxanne Updyke. I ask that you forgive any breaches in protocol- I was never any sort of courtier, and the specific ways of your people are unknown to me."

"I see," the elf said. "Well, Roxanne, I am the Red King, Rachel Carmine. For what purpose do you wish to visit the Red Forest? We are not exactly known for our beaches and hot springs."

"In general, I would like to see more of the world, outside of Dorn," I said. "But for the Red Forest specifically, I was hoping to engage in a bit of trade. I've got every crafter and gatherer class in the System, save for Miner, and I can't imagine there's nothing in my catalogue that wouldn't catch your eye."

The Red King grunted.

"Well... I don't know what you've got, but if you think you can get in and out without Vega catching you, then you're welcome to come visit. We aren't in a position to turn away potential allies."

"I'll be flying in on a winged vehicle, and I'll need somewhere to land it," I said. "Is there a convenient clearing in the Red Forest about a hundred feet or more wide in every direction?"

"...There is, yes," King Rachel said, before casting a simple illusory map onto the mirror, marking the precise location of where, in the Red Forest, I should land. "We'll meet you there, if you can tell us when you'll arrive."

"I'll call you an hour beforehand to let you know. Should be sometime within the next week, though."

"Excellent. Is there anything else?"

"Not that I can think of, besides what it is the Red Forest might want."

"...Bring a lot of everything. Dismissed."

She hung up, and I breathed a sigh of relief, dismissing the illusion that hid the fact I was in my bedroom, with (some of) my girlfriends, in a state of undress.

"That woman must be older than Dorn itself," Nel murmured.

"How's that?" I asked.

"Well, last we heard from the Carmine, their royal line of succession was based on possession of Long-Lived 4, which makes you live for a thousand years," Nel said. "The outward signs of aging progress for elves at a rate proportional to the rate for humans, simply... stretched across their much longer lifespan."

"So, for an elf to look as old as Cecilia does, they'd have to be at least halfway through their lifespan," Akane said.

"It's hard to say for sure, because the outward signs of age work differently for different people," Nel said. "Y'know, some humans go gray and wrinkly when they're thirty, and some of them die of old age with a smooth face and richly-colored hair. But... yeah, I think she's at least five hundred, and probably older."

"I was gonna ask, vis-a-vis the elven royalty thing, how that was sustainable if it's so rare for elves to get Long-Lived 4, and how elves who do get it can't have children, but..." I cleared my throat. "Well, elven monarchs seem to live for a thousand years, and their whole kingdom only really needs to make one of those in a millennium to sustain that, don't they?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Nel said, nodding. "The rate in Vilane is... I think, something like one every hundred years or so?"

"Question," Nicky said. "How does the whole 'elves age at the same proportional rate as humans' fact square with the other fact that you are twenty five and do not look like a small child?"

"Elves age at the same actual rate as humans, up to a point that... kiiiiinda varies from person to person?" Nel said. "That point is always after 18, when the System awakens, but it's almost always before the late 20s. I think I stopped visibly aging when I was 23? Not sure. Anyhow, once elves reach that point, they stop aging altogether until they reach that equivalent age in elf years. Which, for me, would be... I think somewhere around a hundred and forty three? It's complicated. Cecilia, incidentally, isn't going to age any further until she's at least three hundred, assuming you don't destabilize the traditions of legitimacy that hold up the elven kingdoms by milking the Red King's prostate for potion reagents."

"You know I'm going to try and get in that ass," I said.

"Yeah, I know," Nel said, sighing. "Honestly, it's a little endearing at this point, but... still. Behave yourself."

"You're asking a lot, but... I'll try."