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Touch of Fate

Reincarnated due to the interference of fate, Mike tries to survive in a world of magic and monsters. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Michael Rasmussen, a.k.a. Mike, lived an ordinary and uneventful life, until he was killed in an accident. Surprisingly, or perhaps as expected, he found himself face to face with a goddess of reincarnation. Due to the unusual aspects of his death, Mike could no longer be reborn in his own world. So, he ended up in a fantasy realm of magic, monsters, and a video game-like skill system. Exciting as this new life was to a long time fantasy fan, his arrival has set many things in motion. His very presence is warping the destiny of the entire world and disrupting the path laid out by the world's divinities. Trapped in a growing web of competing powers who take note of his actions, Mike can only depend on his own strength. He must fight for his place in this world or risk becoming a victim to their machinations. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - This is a novel I am writing for fun and practice. Its also the first I've posted online. I know it will probably be a bit rough, but I thank you in advance for giving it a chance. If you would like to support my work, please feel free to buy me a coffee at https://ko-fi.com/mobius_factor

mobius_factor · Fantasy
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372 Chs

Curious Cuisine

Getting through the line at the gate took most of the rest of the afternoon, and it looked like the dwarf's party would probably be delayed, so Mike and Morris went ahead to get a table at one of the restaurants in the city. While they were walking, the bard explained why this matter bothered him so much.

"He didn't say it, but I suspect there is an issue with the Gate of Oparthi." He said rapidly while walking down the street without paying much attention to where he was going. "I can't imagine a member of his clan forgetting about their vows, so I can only imagine he's concealing the information for some reason. We'll need to question him thoroughly as soon as possible."

"I'm assuming this would be disturbing news if I knew what was going on?" Mike teased.

"What? Ah, hells, yes I should probably explain in detail first. The Gate of Oparthi, like most really dangerous things, is an artifact from the Second Age. I've read about it in historical accounts, and almost all scholars agree on three points. One, it is somehow tied to the elemental forces of fire itself, likely as the result of some High Elven experiment that went further than intended. Two, that it was used briefly near the beginning of the Third Age around the same time the Lava Fields appeared, and many doubt that the two events are coincidental. Three, that the ancient forebearers of our Kolgar friend decided that the gate was a serious enough issue that they swore a generational oath to protect it and keep it sealed until the end of their bloodline."

"Um…"

"Only now it's clear that they were betrayed and nearly destroyed by the dwarves of the Granos Clan, a neighboring tribe of course, which isn't in itself surprising considering the incredible short-sightedness of mortals when material profit is on the line, but should have been enough to alarm leaders in the Inland Sea Region to the potential dangers."

"..."

"But no! We're only finding out now, after apparently several centuries have passed, that the oathbound keepers of the gate have been replaced with a random group of strangers who probably have no idea what they got their hands on or the possibly apocalyptic consequences of messing with it. Hells, it has to be a literal miracle that nothing serious has happened up to this point."

"Can I-"

"And of course, thanks to your accursed luck, we happened to arrive here to get the news just when the first signs of trouble began showing up. So obviously we, or at the very least you, are meant to deal with it, even though the Gate is so far to the west that it might as well be on another continent. But the alternative, simply ignoring this call to action, could be suicidal!"

Morris stopped walking and took a few deep breaths. After a few moments he grunted. "Sorry. I let my emotions get the better of me."

"No problem, it happens. So, do we know anything else about this gate, and how it operates? Is it literally just a gate?"

The bard shot him a confused look that gradually morphed into horrified realization. "Gate means gate, doesn't it?"

"...Yes?"

Then, perhaps reading Mike's own confused look, Morris explained. "I'm assuming it's your Communication Magic at work. Gate of Oparthi are simply the words used to describe the device that was discovered in the ruins of Kolgan based on what scholars could gather from the remnants of the complex. The meaning has been lost for millennia. Since your translation is probably right, it means the High Elves made an actual gate to Oparthi, the elemental realm of fire. What insanity possessed them to do such a thing?"

"...Yeah, I'm probably going to need more context."

"Right. Elemental realms are basically miniature worlds connected to Ea that represent one aspect of the elements which make up existence. They serve as the source of the elemental forces which govern Ea, and may play some role in the circulation of mana. Or at least that's the leading theory. Scholars have only ever found evidence of elemental realms corresponding to the four basic elements, air, water, fire, earth. And even then, most of that information has come from fragmentary accounts salvaged from High Elven ruins. I knew they were researching the elemental realms near the end of the Second Age, I just never suspected that they had built a gate to one."

"Why? They were traveling through large parts of the multiverse already. Why would it surprise you to learn that they would visit a neighboring realm?"

Morris sighed. "Because doing so would be tantamount to knocking out one of the walls of your house to see how it was made. You may learn something, but you risk having the whole building fall on your head."

"So, in this metaphor, the consequences of messing with the Gate of Oparthi are comparable to your house, or in this case Ea, collapsing. Is that right?"

"I can only guess what could happen if someone unwittingly opened a direct connection to the elemental realm of fire, but it would likely be on the same level of destruction as the event that brought about the end of the Second Age and the collapse of High Elven civilization." Morris replied quietly.

"Hmm. Well, we know they haven't opened it fully yet since our metaphorical house is still standing. That means there is time to deal with it."

Morris blinked at him for a moment, and then chuckled. "Yeah, I suppose that's the case."

"Besides, it's not like we have to deal with this ourselves. If it's as bad as you think, then there should be plenty of people willing to solve the problem."

His friend didn't look convinced, but Mike got the impression he was rethinking the situation a bit.

"Maybe we could even get one of those other Tier 4s I keep hearing about to do something. After all, if they have the time to keep messing with me, shouldn't protecting the world from destruction be worthy of their intervention?"

Morris snorted. "Perhaps, but I would like to see you tell them that. Outside of the Archmage and a few others, I can't see many of them stirring themselves from their current positions to get involved. Even if it meant the end of the world."

"Well, then why don't we try sending the Archmage a message through the Guild once we have all the information. Even if he doesn't intend on taking action, we can make sure they are aware of the situation."

"Speaking of more information, I think we should be close to the restaurant."

We'd reached a city square that was honestly more shaped like an octagon and lined with shops. Among them, Mike quickly spotted a sign for 'The Bronze Kettle,' which was where the dwarf told them to meet. After entering, the reason for his choice quickly became apparent.

They both had to duck to pass through the doorway, and Morris had to keep his head at a slight angle to avoid banging it on the cross beams of the ceiling. Once inside, Mike had to dodge out of the way of a dwarf woman who stomped past while carrying no less than four massive trays heaped with steaming food.

The restaurant was darkly lit, smoky, and near filled to the brim with raucous dwarves eating and drinking loudly. A low wooden bar dominated one side of the room where a trio of men were serving drinks. While it was clear that beer, or some variations of it, was the most popular option, they had a wide selection of alcoholic-looking beverages available lined up behind the bartenders.

Surprisingly enough, considering the slightly uncomfortable atmosphere, there were several humans and even a few beastmen scattered about the restaurant. That said, they were sitting in their own isolated pockets, seemingly not interacting with the other diners around them.

Signaling their intention to eat to one of the stocky waitresses that were bustling around at high speeds, they were directed towards an empty table with a grunt and a head tilt.

Mike looked around the room with some interest. The intense and flavorful smells filling the air were enticing, and he found himself looking forward to the meal. Glancing over at Morris, he asked. "Have you ever eaten at a dwarven restaurant before? I honestly don't even know what should be good here."

The bard shook his head. "There are a few in Almir, but most don't accept non-dwarves as customers. I'm honestly a little surprised that they let us in this easily here, but I can only assume that they modified their traditional cuisine for more human palates."

"What, is it too spicy or something?"

Morris gave him the slightly incredulous look he used whenever Mike asked about something that should apparently be common knowledge. "Right, I keep forgetting. Dwarves have an innate skill that gives them a bonus to Endurance, Poison Resistance, and Disease Resistance. Simply speaking, they are more physically durable than humans. This applies to their sense of taste as well, making them far more tolerant of intense flavors. As a result, their food culture, especially here in the Riverlands, has evolved to use seasonings and preparation methods that would be impossible for other races to mimic."

Mike looked over at the table next to them. The dwarf closest to him was eating from a bowl of stew. The main ingredients were largely recognizable as chunks of meat and vegetables, however the broth itself was an unusually vibrant yellow color that was mildly off putting. Despite the toxic nature of its appearance, the dwarf was eating it with obvious pleasure

"So, basically it's…"

The bard nodded. "Yeah, poisonous. Eating dwarven cuisine is considered suicidal for most non-dwarves. Since they can eat just about anything organic, their chefs have long relied on ingredients that would be largely inedible to others. And that's not even mentioning the fact that their general lack of awareness when it comes to proper food handling and sanitation means that even if you get some of their less dangerous dishes, you'll probably end up with food poisoning."

"If it's so risky, why are their other humans here?"

"Morbid curiosity?"

It was about then that a surly dwarven woman stomped up to their table and asked. "Alright, what'll you have?"

Mike shot a glance at his friend, but didn't find any help there. "Um…well…we're still waiting on a few more people."

The woman grimaced. "Then you should have waited until they got here before sitting down. Tables are for customers only, so unless you're ordering something you've got to go."

"I don't suppose you have any menus?"

"What do we look like, one of them fancy Pyrathien places? Do you see anyone working their way through a twelve course meal while using one slightly different fork for each plate? Nah, you want something, you order it. I'll tell you if we have it or not."

"Alright then, I guess I'll have a tankard of ale and the…house special?"

The waitress squinted at him for a moment, then nodded. "Right, one human special. What about you?"

Morris looked slightly taken aback, gulped and said. "Another tankard of ale and the least toxic meal you have available, please."

"So, one special and one kid's meal. Coming right up." She shot back before bustling away, completely ignoring Morris's outstretched hand and half formed protestations.

Mike chuckled. "Don't worry. Considering the portion size around here, I'm sure the kid's meal will still be too much for you to finish."

"It's the principle of the matter. I know I asked for non-toxic food, but it's degrading that they still put me on the level of a dwarven child."

"Not sure what you are so worried about. If they are willing to allow humans in the first place, then they clearly know how to cook for them. You could have ordered something different if you wanted to."

The bard leaned back in his chair with a disgruntled look on his face. "Yeah, it's probably safe, since I doubt they'd want to create any problems with the Wathins, as xenophobic as they likely are, but you haven't heard the horror stories. Of all the varied races that make their home in the Inland Sea Region, the dwarves have the worst reputation for causing serious damage with their cooking."

"Come on, it can't be that bad."

"One of their favorite seasonings is dried belladonna. I believe they often use it in place of sugar or fruit-based sweeteners."

"....Okay, you got me there. Well, if you do end up poisoned by the kid's meal, I should be able to heal you pretty easily with Life Magic, so just relax and try to enjoy the experience a little."

Morris sighed. "Fine, but I'm not going to apologize if I throw up on you."

"Fair enough. Anyway, it looks like our guests are finally here."