Outrage of the Ancients

I froze for a second, then took two steps back into the gloom to grab my phone, activating a live stream on YouTube.

“What’s wrong?” Dietrich asked as I did that, having stopped when I did.

“Local law enforcement,” I said. “I’m hoping that showing this to the world is going to keep them honest.”

Dietrich nodded. Clearly, he was deferring to my expertise on the matter.

“Hey, are you going to come out or what?” someone yelled.

“I’ll go out alone first,” I said before doing just that, arms crossed over my chest, hands fully visible in a way that not only made it clear that I didn’t hold any weapons but also made it near-impossible to untangle my arms before they could react. A reasonably safe pose that wasn’t as submissive as putting my hands up or on top of my head.

I’d also started a live stream on YouTube and stuck my phone into the breast pocket of my polo shirt, camera visibly poking out.

I drew on [Innate Etiquette] to figure out who was in charge, easily being pointed towards the guy who led this lot. Or rather, the guy in the hot seat.

Slowly, I walked towards him.

“Can I see your Dienstausweis?” I asked after a couple of steps, three meters away, demanding the flimsy bit of plastic German police officers carried in lieu of a badge.

“Um …” the man looked a little thrown at that, staring at me, my pose, and the dust covering me, though I also noticed his eyes flicking to the phone in my pocket.

“Dienst-aus-weis,” I repeated, carefully enunciating every syllable. Admittedly, I was acting just like the stroppy witnesses and “evil” suspects as seen in countless cop shows, but come on, those were cop shows.

The cops were automatically the good guys, anyone who didn’t do what they said was a minor antagonist at the very least, and if they crossed any lines to convict someone they knew was guilty but couldn’t prove it the right way, they were guaranteed to have been right in their accusations, retroactively justifying any and all line-crossing.

This was the real world. Cops could be just as bad as the criminals they chased, and this whole circus was not making me feel particularly charitable or understanding.

The man finally seemed to shake himself out of his puzzlement, reached into a pocket, and all but threw the relevant piece of plastic at me like a shuriken.

I caught it and held it up to my face, before letting my hand drop down to my side and looked the man straight in the eye, cocking my head to the side.

“Polizeidirektor Friedrich Hofmann, what the hell did I do?” I asked, holding out the card for him to take back. He stayed where he was.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he responded.

“No, it really isn’t. I mean, it has to be bad, you don’t need fifty people to arrest me and you’re way too highly ranked to normally lead something like that, but I have no idea. And let’s not play the ‘you know, you have to’ game because it’s a pointless waste of time.”

“We’re here because you seem to be the only one who knows anything about the terror attack of an unknown scale that has already killed over a thousand people.”

Oh. Oh. Wait, no, um … I’d successfully confused myself. Hold on. That could mean two things.

“Do you think I’m valuable because I figured out some stuff, or do you think that, because I know stuff, I’m responsible for the mess? ‘Cause sending that overly armed backup says it’s the latter.”

“Little of both. The backup is mostly because something set off a bunch of seismographs.”

“Oh.”

Admittedly, not the most intelligent reply, but it was the best I could come up with in the face of the unexpected addition to the statement.

“Do you want me to explain how I know figured everything out?” I finally asked after taking a few seconds to think about it.

“Please,” Hofmann gestured at me to continue. He was still standing at a safe distance, as was everyone else, but no one had drawn their weapons yet. That was a good sign, I think?

“I figured out that people could get Classes when Dietrich von Bern, yes, the legendary king, asked me if ‘Skills’ and ‘Classes’ were normal nowadays, and I figured out that I could pull up a full description when an upgrade description popped up when I used this Skill Boost I earned.”

I swallowed an addition of “see, not supernatural, just me using my brain.”

Hofmann nodded. “And I’m guessing that Dietrich von Bern is still down there?”

I nodded. “I figured it’d be easier on you guys to deal with a harmless college student, instead of a legendary dragonslayer.”

“What is down there, exactly?”

“An ancient armory left by the Amelungs, for when their most famous king returned. Dietrich von Bern is gearing up for war against monsters before they can do significant damage. Or even end the world,” I explained. We were taking everything of value already, if they decided to steal what was left, it wouldn’t be too much of an issue.

“Why are you so concerned the world is going to end?” Hofmann asked.

“Because earlier today, I saw a Level 7 eagle that looked like it could carry off my sister’s car. And I know for a fact that the Level scale goes past fifty, and I have no earthly idea just how high it scales. So I figured I should tell everyone so that they could learn to protect themselves.”

That was actually a lie. I’d figured the world would end because the wolves had really freaked me out. But using the bird as an excuse sounded better. Less panicky.

“Were you the ones who left a giant bird carcass in the middle of the Autobahn?” Hofmann asked.

Oh, was he really trying this right now? Baiting me into correcting him that no, we’d left it by the side of the road, thereby admitting that we’d been involved? Or was that just a “Berufskrankheit”, as we Germans liked to say, a pattern of behavior imposed by one’s occupation that showed up even when it shouldn’t.

I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, but I still wasn’t going to fall for it.

“We’d never leave an obstruction like that behind, that’d be rude as hell and dangerous to boot.”

A flash of guilt appeared on Hofmann’s face at that. Yeah, like I thought, Berufskrankheit.

“I’m guessing that the reason you know how high the Level scale extends is because of Dietrich von Bern?” Hofmann asked.

I nodded. While giving out the specifics of his Level and Skills would have been a terrible idea, general information should be fine.

Hofmann frowned at that. Sure, this world didn’t have a proper idea of just what Levels translated to in terms of power, but fifty still sounded damn high.

“Does he have any plans beyond fighting monsters?” he asked.

“Not that I know,” I shrugged.

“While I hope you’ll understand why we were suspicious, I think we can declare the idea that you’re behind the System as debunked,” Hofmann said and finally closed the distance between us, so I gave back his Dienstausweis. “As for the damage to a national park, I think we can let that go with a fine. Say, one euro?”

Now, I wasn’t entirely sure whether a fine from a police officer was enough to block further penalties under the principle of double jeopardy, not being a lawyer, but I was still picking up what he was putting down.

Hofmann borrowed an official block for writing fines from one of his subordinates, wrote out a fine for a whopping one euro and the biggest issue turned out to be a complete lack of change in my wallet, leading to a whole “who’s got change for a fifty euro bill” song and dance.

Honestly, by the time that got resolved, I’d been just about ready to tell him to keep the whole 50 euros. Normally, I was downright miserly when it came to spending money, but under these circumstances, I felt like avoiding awkwardness would have been worth it.

Then, finally, Hofmann handed over a business card.

“If you ever decide that you have a piece of information that could cause more trouble than it prevents, please don’t share it. And if you figure out something that could help, or need help yourself, feel free to give me a call.”

“How much help could you help?” I asked slowly.

“Look, we’re both smart people,” Hofmann said. “If it actually helps improve the situation and won’t break the bank, I’ll supply the help. And if breaking the bank is what’s needed to save millions if this escalates, then I’ll do even that.”

“So don’t be greedy or an ass about it, gotcha,” I summarized. He laughed.

“Well, Mr. Vogt, I hope you’re wrong about how things play out in the future, but that’s not in either of our control. Have a nice day.”

And with that, the small army of police officers retreated at his direction, leaving me staring at their backs, mouth all but hanging open, barely paying attention to the voice ringing out in my ears.

[Legend’s Guide Lv. 4 -> Legend’s Guide Lv. 5]

[Skill gained: Modern Makeover]

Nor did I realize that Mia and Dietrich had stepped up next to me at some point.

“So, are all modern watchmen this reasonable?” Dietrich asked.

“God no,” I sighed and tapped my chest pocket. “The YouTube stream might have helped. Cops tend to be nicer when people can prove their misdeeds. I mean, don’t get me wrong, there are nice cops, I’d just never rely on it when I get confronted by a random one.”

“Some things never change, I suppose,” Dietrich slowly nodded as we began to make our way towards the car, heavily laden down with stuff.

“So we don’t trust him,” Mia asserted.

“Oh, I do trust him …” I replied, causing her to gear up for a reply before I continued. “About as much as a toaster from the One-Euro-Shop.”

Mia laughed, Dietrich looked confused, and we all continued to walk, carrying heavy objects I likely never would have been able to lift before.

The strength boost from the ring might not have been all that obvious at first glance, but now that I was actively doing a physical activity that required more than just my normal strength, it was actually helping quite a lot.

So, the ring came with a built-in safety cut-off of sorts. Handy, that.

And my new Skill was also quite cool.

Up to one outfit can be transformed into something appropriate for your surroundings while retaining all relevant properties, applying this Skill to a new outfit will cause the first outfit to revert.

I immediately applied it to Dietrich after warning him, dressing him in a business casual suit.

“I don’t think these outfits are meant to get dirty,” he observed. “Also, it weighs the same. And feels the same.”

“The sleeves are longer, where can you feel them end?” I asked.

“Where I can see them,” he responded.

“So, it’s a complete transformation, but it doesn’t change weight or material,” I surmised.

On the way back to the car, we had a lot of fun playing around with the Skill. I could create most outfits, though something absurd or restrictive wasn’t possible to spring on people, I needed permission.

Sure I could manifest a full ballgown on someone, including myself, one of those big poofy Victorian things that was so wide that you could only touch another person if you were both holding your hands out, but when I tried to drop one on Mia, the Skill fizzled and died.

In hindsight, that was probably the only reason I’d made it to the car alive, because she’d have definitely killed me for that prank.

Still, it made me think. What could I do with my other Skills, how could I use them to defend myself? Randomly giving someone else a wildly impractical outfit would trip them up, but if that wouldn’t fly as a prank, how could I expect things to work when pulling off the Skill activation would end with the other guy dead?

[Restoration of the Old] had an obvious use, compressing the dust and dirt in a room down into a marble and saving that to chuck at an enemy at the best possible moment.

But what about [Knowledge Transfer]? I mean, it wasn’t a psychic attack or something that could influence someone’s knowledge base, but could I inject something nasty?

Like, say, the plot of some of the more depressing movies I’d watched?

You know, Your Lie in April and Grave of the Fireflies, throw in Marley and Me not because that film had been particularly depressing except the ending but because Mia and me had watched it way too young and been inconsolable afterwards … Puella Magi Madoka Magica was a short series rather than a movie but it also more than fit the title of “depressing”.

However, here’s the thing, I’d seen all of those, and while it had been an utter gut punch to watch them, it wasn’t like I walked around in a perpetual funk now. I was a normal person, reasonably well adjusted if I may say so myself, especially for someone who’d already lost both parents despite not even being twenty-five.

So would adding knowledge of all that to someone’s head actually hurt them? It might be a bit more present in their heads for having been a recent addition, but truly debilitating? No, it probably wouldn’t be.

Ultimately, it was something I’d try if things really came down to the wire, but I wouldn’t resort to it as a standard tactic.

Eventually, we reached the car and started stuffing things in the back. Mostly the chest of cash, various bits of high-quality armor and weapons tacked on, as well as some clothes that Dietrich wound up running back and getting. If I could use my Skill to transform them, then silk and even more exotic fabrics could become wearable in the modern day.

And then, it was time to find the final sword. Mimung.

That should actually be pretty simple, it’d just take a while to get there.

Wittich had jumped into the ocean at the site of the Rabenschlacht, which had occurred near the city of Ravenna, which still existed and was therefore very easy to plot a route to.