YM778.TV Chapter 3: The Trial of Worth
"So… can I… use alchemy with this?" I asked, balling my fists and rubbing them on my legs.
Lithco made a weak noise. "Yes. Unique Classes are both Path and Support classes, or rather… they don’t have a function. They don’t inherently walk The Path, support The Path, or maintain the economy. Therefore, as long as the Neophyte uses the class’s expertise to pursue godhood or to support Neophytes, how they do it is up to them. That’s why it’s called a unique class despite being a common study. So yes, I can help you pursue plant-based alchemy, poison research, soulmancy, genetic modification, or any other path."
"That sounds… good. So why were you so hesitant to say yes?"
"Because you only get so many rewards. If you run around feeding your interests, you’ll be mediocre in dozens of areas. Every so often, someone, by virtue of their actions or some strange genius, finds ways of blending mediocre gifts into grand skills. That said, 62% of people with Unique Classes forcefully or voluntarily join the economy within a decade, and 37% die outright. Of that remaining 1%, only a token few make it to the Fourth Evolution, starting their road to divinity."
I smiled wryly.
"So?" Lithco asked. "What class do you choose?"
I hugged my backpack. "Well, it seems pretty obvious to me. I’m going to a forest where there’s no economy. I can’t shoot a bow. I need to find food. There’s a class that allows me to make poisons, food, and survive, and it also has powerful capabilities, should I need them. Rushing into an alien forest as some soldier would just get me killed. It may sound stubborn, but I’m not exactly playing by the rules other people are. Given my situation, the Botanist class seems like the best option."
"Well, I can’t fault you there."
"So I’m gonna choose Botanist."
"Alright," Lithco sighed. "Well, I’ve done my part, and you’ve wasted all your question time on nonsense. I’m now going to ship you off to your location of choice. Be diligent, and take The Path seriously. Goooooodbye…" He sang his goodbye with a dry falsetto.
"Wait, how do I—"
Kline suddenly hissed in warning, but it was too late. Something hit the back of my head like a bolt gun, and I blacked out.
-
Datura stramonium—also known as Jimsonweed, Thornapple, or Devil’s Snare.
My mom called it hideous, but it was just out of bloom. It has spiral-like flowers that bloom into trumpets during the moonlight, making it known as Devil’s Trumpet, Angel’s Trumpet, or Moonflower, depending on the region and species.
It is poisonous to touch, toxic to inhale the pollen, and the seeds contain atropine, scopolamine, and hyoscyamine, alkaloids that cause intense visual and auditory hallucinations, elevated heart rate, hyperthermia, and dry mouth—for three days.
It is this effect that makes the plant sacred in some cultures. Those who eat the seeds often describe living entirely different lives and meeting other people. And when I opened my eyes after that discussion, face on soft grass, listening to the chitter of strange birds, feeling a strange sensation on my back—I genuinely thought that I had tackled my mother like a soldier jumping on a hand grenade, and got stabbed by hundreds of barbs.
Then I remembered you only hallucinate if you eat the seeds, and then I woke up, realizing that the sensation on my back was Kline pushing me with both paws as if to say, "Mom! Wake up! I can’t do this alone!"
Needy cat.
"I’m up, I’m up…" I groaned.
Kline mewed and jumped off my back, landing in front of my head. Then he faced me and zigged and zagged backward, thrilled I was alive.
How cute.
I pressed myself up and turned. To my relief, my backpack was still with me. It was just at my side, proof I was probably placed there instead of just haphazardly yeeted into another world—but who knows. It’s not like I was just told I needed to kill people or anything.
Feeling more secure, I leaned back on my hands and looked around. It took exactly fifteen seconds for me to confirm that I wasn’t on Earth anymore. The forest around me was waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too epic.
Bright pink moss blanketed the trees with trunks wide enough for a car to drive through if tunneled out. There were about thirty feet between each of the trees, and each was so tall that ambient light fell from the canopies in beams. Every inch of the ground was filled with foliage so colorful I felt like I was sitting in a melted crayon box. There were yellow and blue ground cover, orange shrubs, and white bushes. Evolutionarily primed for our world, I saw each of them with the same mindset—poison.
It made my heart sing.
A chime suddenly went off in my head, and a pop-up materialized before my eyes. "Wait," I muttered. "I can still see these…?" I paused when I read what was on the screen.
—---
Neophyte Mira Hill has been given a mandatory quest.
Name: Trial of Worth
Quest Summary: Surprise, surprise—the gods see no value in people who want to stare at plants all day. If you choose this path to godhood, they demand you prove your resolve the hard way. Use your botany class to survive over the next seven days.
Duration: (1) Week
Quest Value: Prepare for your new world. Provides voluntary missions and resources to test skills. Excellent performance can earn the neophyte subclasses and legacies that provide unique rewards and additional quests.
Notes:
The Trial of Worth is the only mandatory quest. It is given to all classes.
The neophyte’s class type and environment influence the trial’s difficulty.
The more distinguished your performance is when completing missions, the greater chance you have of obtaining a subclass or a legacy.
Unwillingness to participate in the trial, either by not using your class during the trial or giving up, will result in the neophyte being reassigned to a Peaceful Class of the Oracle’s choosing.
You may switch to a Peaceful Class at any time, though the Oracle will assign you to the class of their choosing.
You are in an isolated environment. It could take up to a year to retrieve you without high level Requests. It is recommended that you participate and earn Requests and Rewards to survive.
Warning: You are in a dangerous environment. The Guide has been restricted to Survival Mode. Certain features will only be available once you are in a safe area. Information Requests can be used at any time. Level rewards are available upon the Oracle’s discretion.
—---
I shivered when I read "dangerous" and "isolated" in relation to my environment. I looked around nervously and found no animals or threats, but not a moment later, the grass suddenly radiated with blue light. Then, the light shot across the forest floor in all directions as if someone had dropped a rock into a still pond.
"What… was that?" I asked, looking around me. The world returned to normal after that—only everything seemed less vibrant as if someone had turned off a backlight. Something had changed. My heart quickened, and I immediately grabbed my backpack out of reflex—but when I pulled it wouldn’t move. "What the hell?" I cried.
Kline suddenly hissed and pounced at something.
"What are you…" I froze when I saw him pinning something down. I thought it was a snake—but it was a plant. At least it looked like one. It had a green stalk and alternating leaves with white bulbs that reminded me of mistletoe, but they clung to the stalk. It definitely looked like a plant—but it wasn’t a plant. It was writhing and twisting like a worm pinned under Kline’s paw, making me scramble back on my hands.
"W-What the hell is that thing?" I muttered.
A screen popped up above the plant, neatly stacking in a location that wouldn’t block my vision. It read:
—---
Common Name: Wandering Reaper
Type: Plant, Soul Reaper
Summary: Welcome to Areswood Forest, where you don’t forage plants—plants forage you. If you thought that being a botanist made you a super special practitioner of the dark arts—think again. This plant grafts souls on itself, one soul per tendril, making some as intelligent as a dolphin and others as dumb as, well, you. But unlike you, it loves to kill everything and does so by sticking to a victim’s skin like a sundew and strangling them like a boa constrictor. So, if you see one, make sure to run.
Species: Carnivoriflorum mobilis
Description: Green stalk, white bulbs, sticky like a sundew. It is sentient and moves on its own, wrapping around objects like a Boa Constrictor.
Key Facts:
Wandering Reapers are carnivorous.
They kill their prey by sticking them to the ground and strangling them.
Some variations are poisonous to touch, but this one is not. All are poisonous to eat.
The body is usually 1,000 feet under the ground.
Tendrils get up to 2,000 feet, allowing them to attack up to a third of a mile (0.53 km).
As with all Reapers, they increase in sentience by stealing the souls of increasingly intelligent prey.
The tendrils increase for every kill.
The plant’s intelligence is directly correlated with the number of its tendrils. If you see two tendrils working together, you can assume there are many nearby. If you see four, you can assume there’s an army.
Weaknesses:
…
—---
My heart rattled against my ribs as I read the description. I desperately tried to read the weaknesses, but I was cut off by Kline howling and opening his jaws to deliver a kill shot.
"Don’t eat that!" I scrambled forward, grabbed Kline, and pulled. The plant was stuck to him, pulling the fur and making him screech. "Hold still!" I yelled.
Another plant suddenly sprouted behind Kline. It was very, very slow, yet constant, like watching a time-lapse video of a growing plant. Yet it wasn’t a plant—it was a Kraken’s tentacle—and I knew what it would do.
"Shit… shit-shit-shit-shit-shit!" I fumbled into my pocket and grabbed my pocket knife. Then I flicked it open and skillfully slashed to cut Kline free.
Nothing.
It did fucking nothing. This wasn’t a plant. It was like a jungle vine mixed with an extension cord!
I immediately pressed the knife between two white bulbs and started sawing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing!
The plant behind Kline kept growing silently. It wasn’t a fast creature, but it was impossible to cut, and it kept releasing more adhesive, ensuring that I couldn’t just rip it off my thrashing cat’s fur.
I had a BIC lighter, but I didn’t think about it at the time. There was just too much going on. Too much adrenaline. Saw saw, grunting, screaming cat, howls. I finally gave up in frustration, dropped the knife, picked it up in a reverse grip, and started stabbing blindly, like in that scene in Psycho. It was vicious and raw—passionate, like a born psychopath who found their partner cheating.
It wasn’t the smartest thing to do. One miss and I’d slash my femoral artery, and Lithco would laugh about me killing myself. But I didn’t care—I wanted to save my fucking cat!
I stabbed twelve times—hit three. Two were nicks, but the third stabbed deep, and when I pulled, the plant broke, rocketing my howling cat backward like a slingshot. My knife went flying, and I scrambled for it. I grabbed it and tried to grab my backpack again, but a dozen reapers were clinging to the bag like leeches, making it impossible to move.
One suddenly sprouted by my ankles. Slow yet deadly. I screamed and jumped backward, rushing to Kline, who was hobbling around on his leg, trying to get the tendril off.
I locked my knife, threw it in my pocket, grabbed Kline, and ran—ran as fast as my lungs and legs could take me, weaving between grass and brush and fern, jumping between patches of soils and rocks—avoiding every plant near me. On Earth, walking into some plants left you with nasty rashes—here, it could kill you.
I finally understood why no one came here. It was fucking dangerous.