Bob was sitting in his chair, watching the sunrise.

  He was two weeks into his break from the Dungeon, and while he was feeling better, both physically and mentally, he was also starting to go a little stir crazy.

  He'd even finished his pamphlets.

  Bob was fully aware that he was better at writing equations.

  Still, he'd also tried to translate the paths into something a little bit more user friendly.

  He'd passed them over to Harv to transmute the printing plates, and Harv had given them a quick read and assured him that they were clear and communicative.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  He'd brought Harv, Elli, Bailli, and Kelli up to his cabin every few days, and that had helped stave off the boredom for a bit, but the sad truth was, Bob was terribly bored.

  He'd hiked twelve to sixteen miles a day, discovering several other beautiful vistas.

  He'd even spent a day just portaling around, looking for neat places.

  Still, today was the day. Jimmi had passed a message to Harv, letting him know that the first half of his paper was ready to be picked up.

  Bob had the ink, and theoretically, Harv had transmuted the plates.

  He planned to spend the rest of his vacation printing out the pamphlet pages.

  He hoped that it would keep him busy.

  During the past two weeks, his terrarium had paid significant dividends, as his Control Earth, Control Air, Control Water, Control Fire, and his Plant Growth spell had all reached level three.

  Monroe's had as well, although the big cat seemed unexcited about this progress.

  With a grunt of effort, Bob hauled himself out of his chair, moving a sleepy Monroe from his lap to the Makres.

  Bob was familiar with the Chonk Chart, as his vet had a copy posted in his office, and Monroe was firmly in the 'He Chomnk' category.

  He'd just gotten so much bigger.

  He was out of eggs, as Monroe could no longer be sated by the leftover yolks from Bob's eggwhite omelet in the morning, instead requiring several additional eggs to be scrambled.

  "Looks like we're going to the tavern for breakfast buddy," Bob said as he reached up and gave Monroe a quick cheek scritch.

  Bob opened a portal to Holmstead and stepped through.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Bob grunted as he pressed down on the lever, pressing the plates firmly onto the paper between them.

  Jimmi had been very helpful when Bob had presented the printing plates and asked him to make a press for them.

  While Bob was generally aware of how a printing press worked, the specifics hadn't been something he'd ever studied.

  What he'd come up with worked well enough, although Bob had started to give a bit of thought to a self-inking feature.

  Still, the process of pressing the pamphlet pages had a certain meditative aspect that Bob had been missing.

  Repetitive mechanical actions kept him busy while allowing his mind to wander.

  He'd made a lot of mistakes since his arrival on Thayland.

  He'd blundered along, neglecting the resource his advanced integration provided.

  Bob had given it a good deal of thought, and Trebor had not misinformed him at all.

  While he was fairly certain that the System was amoral and uncaring, it wasn't malevolent or evil. It was simply a fact of existence, a law of nature. Well, many laws of nature, if one were to be more deliberate.

  He could have saved Bailli a reincarnation ritual if he'd asked better questions, or simply asked the questions at all.

  To that end, and after deliberation, Bob had instructed Trebor to volunteer information whenever Bob was about to make a decision without having all the information.

  Thus far, Bob had only slightly regretted it.

  Trebor knew more about the inherent cooking properties of eggs than any sapient being should and had interrupted Bob's attempts at cooking breakfast several times to inform him that he was folding the eggs inefficiently, or whisking them for too long.

  Bob had been stamping pages for two full weeks, and he was ready to head back into the Dungeon.

  Tomorrow was the big day. Thirty days of not delving.

  He couldn't deny that he felt good, great even.

  Physically he felt fantastic, and more importantly, the past month had served to drain the anxiety that had been plaguing him and clouding his judgment.

  He felt peaceful, serene even.

  His house was not only comfortable, but it also provided amazing scenic views, and he was sharing it with his buddy.

  The upkeep was six mana crystals a month, which served to handle heating, cooking, hot and cold water, as well as the plumbing.

  Given his current resources, Bob didn't actually need to delve for crystals to pay for his lifestyle, at least not any time soon. He had several years' worth of crystals available.

  No, his only reasons to delve the Dungeon now were to allow Thidwell to reincarnate and take a better path and to ensure he could gather the Affinity Crystals he would need to start demonstrating to the Adventurers Guild leaders just how valuable and useful they were.

  But that was tomorrow.

  Thidwell had suggested he jump directly to the twenty-third floor of the Dungeon and delve there, as Bob would need to be level twenty-three in order to start gathering Affinity Crystals on the twenty-sixth floor.

  Both Thidwell and Bob were banking on the fact that his Summon Mana-Infused Creature spell was level forty-three.

  Being as that floor was seven levels deeper than his level, Bob was planning to take the mana crystals he found and immediately increase his level to seventeen, and then eighteen, which would place him at the optimal five levels below the depth of the twenty-third floor.

  Bob could see the experience wall that his Summon Mana-Infused Creature was going to hit. He was technically already there, as the spells maximum level was fifty-two and he was significantly behind that.

  Ten million two hundred and forty thousand experience was the requirement to push the spell from level forty-nine to level fifty.

  Assuming he maintained an optimum five levels lower than the floor of the Dungeon, he could spend four hours a day delving, and the remaining twenty hours would serve to stabilize him in regards to mana density.

  Bob paused to grab another ream of paper.

  He'd likely spend another six or so hours a day printing out his pamphlets.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  The following morning Bob was up early, watching the sunrise.

  "Trebor," he said quietly, "given all the information you have access to, what do you think will happen when I spread the Affinity Crystal information to all of the Adventurers Guilds here?"

  'Over the course of the next two years, it will nearly eliminate fatalities during mana waves, and within a decade it will reduce fatalities during tides,' Trebor answered.

  'The population will increase rapidly, and within five hundred years this planet will have exceeded one hundred million humans, at which point even tides will be events that can be handled without any significant loss of life,' Trebor finished.

  "In the more short term, can I expect any retaliation from the nobility?" Bob asked.

  'While you aren't going to be their favorite person, they are unlikely to exert significant effort to do you harm,' Trebor said, 'although I would avoid Harbordeep after you start giving out your pamphlets and demonstrations.'

  Bob nodded.

  He was aware that his life on earth had predisposed him to distrust people in a position of authority.

  That had made it quite easy for him to fall prey to a touch of paranoia about the matter.

  Bob stood up with a bit of effort, Monroe having already lodged himself across Bob's shoulders, and opened a portal to Holmstead.

  It was time to put in some work.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Bob entered the twenty-third floor of the Dungeon with a grimace.

  He'd forgotten to include the cost of his next token into his financial equation, and he was suddenly low on mana crystals.

  He was grateful to see that this level presented a blue sky and a setting sun.

  The temperature was pleasant, and the ground was covered by golden waves of grass.

  Bob brought out his UtahRaptor and started stepping through the grass slowly, keeping Jake at his side.

  Twenty feet in, he heard a snort from his right, and turned to see the grass parting in a wake that pointed directly towards him.

  With a quick mental command, Jake sprung to intercept, and the sounds of huffing, squealing and snarling filled the air.

  His UtahRaptor returned seconds later, proudly dragging the corpse of what appeared to be a very small rhinoceros/alligator nightmare.

  It would have stood just under three feet tall, was covered in scales, and had the build and horn of a rhino, with the teeth of an alligator.

  Jake had suffered damage equaling less than one percent of his maximum health.

  Bob spotted another movement in the grass and smiled.

  It was good to get back to work.