Cherreads

Chapter 344 - 324. Bountiful Rewards From The System

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[Secondary Effect: Leviticus Cornwall has lost his most effective instruments for direct action against the gang and lost his primary intelligence pipeline for tracking the Van der Linde gang himself. Alternative measures will be slower, less precise, and more costly.]

[Net Effect: Overall danger level to the Van der Linde gang has been reduced significantly.]

Caleb's lips parted in a slow, incredulous smile.

Safe. Not invincible. Not absolved. But safer. Meaningfully so.

The interface continued.

[Tertiary Effect: The fates of primary narrative entities Arthur Morgan and John Marston have been irrevocably altered. Their projected endpoints have been erased from the timeline. New trajectories are now forming. Government pressure leading to canonical outcomes has been disrupted. Probability of gang survival beyond previously fixed endpoints has increased substantially.]

For a moment, Caleb didn't move.

Arthur and John… their terrible, fated ends were now blank pages.

He saw flashes in his mind, Arthur's quiet strength, his stubborn loyalty, the weight he carried without complaint. John's recklessness, his struggle to grow beyond the outlaw he'd been shaped into.

They were more than characters now. They were people he had ridden with, bled beside, and laughed with.

The relief that washed over him was very satisfying. He had liked the gruff, doomed horseman and the loyal, rough edged father. To have pulled them back from that precipice was a victory separate from all his schemes.

The system paused, as if allowing the significance to settle. Then the rewards appeared.

The system paused, as if allowing the significance to settle.

Then the rewards appeared.

[REWARDS GRANTED]

1. Skill Amplification: All current skills have increased by one +1 level.

2. Stat Enhancement: All base attributes have increased by one +1 level.

3. New Skills Unlocked:

• Business (Level 1)

• Leadership (Level 1)

4. Capital Infusion: 100,000 dollars have been added to your inventory.

Caleb sat utterly still, reading and re reading the text. A slow, profound sensation, first of shock, then of vindication, and finally of fierce, quiet joy, spread through him.

This was more than a reward, it was validation on a cosmic scale. All the planning, the risk, the moral compromises, the nights spent staring at maps and ledgers, it had fundamentally mattered.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and reviewed each line carefully, methodically, as if committing it to memory.

All skills, up by one.

That alone was enormous.

His combat abilities, already honed to a terrifying edge, were now sharper still. All of his skills that are nudged higher where some due to that reached maximum level, smoothing imperfections, closing gaps, shaving milliseconds off reaction time and hesitation.

Then the stats.

Strength. Agility. Perception. Stamina. Charm. Luck.

Each increment compounded the others. His body, already reinforced by the system into something beyond normal human limits, felt… tighter. More responsive. As if muscles and nerves had been subtly rewired, optimized.

He rolled his shoulders experimentally.

There it was. That familiar sensation. Not pain. Not fatigue.

Potential.

Then his eyes flicked back to the new skills.

The description unfolded beneath it.

Business (Lvl 1): Enables efficient handling, management, and expansion of enterprises, properties, and financial networks.

• Improves negotiation outcomes.

• Reduces losses from mismanagement.

• Enhances profit optimization.

• Higher levels unlock advanced economic manipulation and large scale operational efficiency.

Caleb nodded slowly.

Perfect.

Knowledge that wasn't there before settled into his mind, principles of double entry bookkeeping, supply chain logistics, the psychology of negotiation, and many more.

Strawberry wasn't just a dream anymore, it was a project. A logistical monster that would require coordination, capital flow, labor management, and long term planning. This skill wasn't just useful, it was foundational.

Then the second.

Leadership (Lvl 1): Enhances the ability to command, inspire loyalty, and organize individuals or groups

• Increases loyalty, morale, and efficiency of subordinates.

• Increases effectiveness of coordinated actions.

• Higher levels will cause others to naturally recognize the user as a leader, improving compliance, trust, and group cohesion, even under stress. Could also instill fanatical devotion and shape organizational culture.

Caleb exhaled softly.

This one mattered more than it seemed.

He had never planned to be a lone wolf forever. Influence required people, capable ones, dangerous ones. And people followed leaders, not killers.

Leadership meant shaping outcomes through others, not just his own hands, he felt a shift in his own presence, a subtle gravity.

Finally, the money.

100,000 dollars.

Instantly transferred.

Caleb opened his inventory interface without thinking.

There it was.

The number stared back at him, absurd in its scale. Combined with Bronte's 15,000 dollars, he was now sitting on a war chest that most men in the territory wouldn't see in several lifetimes.

The Strawberry lodge wasn't just a project now; it was a guarantee. He could build his luxury hotel without cutting a single corner, could hire the best architects, import the finest materials.

He could fund the expansion of his restaurant in Valentine if he so desires, and invest in new ventures. The financial pressure that had been a constant, low grade hum was suddenly, gloriously silent for a while.

Caleb leaned back in his chair, a long, slow exhale escaping him. He had gone from a man who transmigrated here and trying to survive by doing what he can to a landowner, to an industrial partner, to a real estate mogul in waiting, to a shadow player in a big conflict, and now to a… catalyst. A man who changed stories.

But the system's message was also a stark reminder. New trajectories are now forming. He had created a vacuum. Nature, and men like Cornwall and Bronte, abhorred a vacuum.

The immediate danger to the gang was reduced, but the world was not static. Other threats would coalesce. And his own actions had placed him squarely in the sights of the most powerful men in the region.

He stood up, pacing the room, the new energy in his limbs needing an outlet. The audit of the Old Madonna Chapel tomorrow was no longer just a scouting mission or a test of trust.

With his further enhanced Perception and the nascent Business skill, he would be able to assess the fortress not just as a security problem, but as a financial asset for him as well.

He could estimate the value behind those walls, understand the flow, and see the vulnerabilities in the ledger itself. With his Leadership skill, he could gauge the true loyalty of Bronte's Sicilian guards far more accurately.

So that, when the time was right, when Cornwall's pressure and Bronte's inevitable paranoia reached a boiling point, he wouldn't just rob the chapel. He would transfer its contents. He would become the new banker, the new vault. He would use Bronte's own wealth to fund the empire that would replace his.

It was a leap into the abyss. It meant maintaining the facade of loyal lieutenant while plotting regicide. It meant dancing between the warring titans of Bronte and Cornwall. It meant that Guido Martelli would have to be dealt with, permanently.

He stopped pacing, looking at his reflection in the dark window. The face that looked back was harder than the one that had arrived in Valentine months ago.

There was a calm certainty in the eyes that hadn't been there before. He was becoming something more than he was, something this world had not seen before, a man with the grit of an outlaw, the mind of a tycoon, and the patience of a spider.

He would sleep now, and deeply. Tomorrow, he would ride to the chapel as Angelo Bronte's trusted auditor, the man who had delivered the head of his enemy.

He would walk its halls, study its guards, and memorize its secrets. And all the while, he would be calculating not how to protect it for Bronte, but how to claim it for himself.

He blew out the lamp, surrendering to the darkness, laying down on his bed, "Alright," he murmured, "Next phase."

Morning came slowly, filtered through fog and the distant cry of gulls. Caleb woke before the city fully stirred, before then he dressed carefully, choosing clothes that struck the right balance between competent professional and unthreatening "auditor".

No excessive weapons. No showy gear. Just enough to remind people he wasn't someone they could meds with. Downstairs, the Bastille was already awake. Several of the morning patrons nodded as Caleb passed then, where he returned the greetings with a nod of his own.

Outside, Morgan stamped a hoof impatiently. Caleb mounted, guiding the horse out of the city and toward the wetlands north of Saint Denis. The road thinned quickly, brick giving way to mud, the air growing heavier with moisture and decay.

The journey to the Old Madonna Chapel was a study in transition. The clatter and stink of Saint Denis faded, replaced by the thick, silent humidity of the marsh. Gnarled cypress trees stood like sentinels in the murky water, their roots grasping at the soft earth. The road became a narrow, muddy track, barely distinguishable from the surrounding bog. Morgan's hooves made soft, sucking sounds in the mire.

Then, through a break in the mist and tangled willow, it appeared, a hulking silhouette of grey stone, half consumed by emerald ivy and creeping moss. One wing had surrendered to time and gravity, its roof collapsed inward. But the main structure, built around a stubby, defiant bell tower, stood solid. And it was guarded.

Three men materialized from the shadows of the arched entrance, their movements crisp and coordinated.

They wore simple, sturdy clothes, but the quality of their boots and the well oiled Litchfield Repeaters in their hands marked them as professionals, not common thugs. Their faces were weathered, their eyes flat and assessing. Sicilians. Bronte's paesani.

"Alt!" the lead guard barked, his rifle coming up. "Fermati! Turn around! This is private property!" His companions flanked him, their weapons tracking Caleb's approach. The challenge was repeated in heavily accented English. "You go now!"

Caleb reined Morgan to a halt, holding up a placating hand. He understood the Italian perfectly, thanks to his language skill, but he kept his face a mask of mild amusement. Speaking Italian now would reveal a card he preferred to keep hidden.

"Easy, gentlemen," he said in English, his voice carrying a calm authority. "Name's McLaughlin. I'm here under direct instruction from Mr. Angelo Bronte. I'm to conduct an audit."

He let the word hang in the damp air. "That means checking your security protocols, verifying the inventory of assets stored within, examining the ledgers, and," he paused, letting his gaze sweep slowly over each man, his newly maxed out Persuasion and Acting skills weaving an invisible aura of menace and legitimacy, "assessing the continued loyalty of the personnel stationed here."

The last sentence was delivered with a subtle shift in tone, not a threat, but a simple statement of deadly serious fact. The guards felt it. A normal intruder boasting like that would have been shot already.

But something in Caleb's bearing, the absolute certainty in his eyes, the way he sat his horse as if he owned the ground it stood on, gave them pause. This matched the description of the man Bronte had warned them about the bounty hunter, the troubleshooter, the one who had just delivered Milton's head.

The lead guard's eyes narrowed. He exchanged a quick, silent look with his comrades. The aggressive posture of the other two men softened a fraction, their repeaters muzzles dipping slightly. The leader lowered his weapon first.

"Abbassate le armi," he ordered. "Lower them." The two man followed suit at once.

"Scusi, Signor McLaughlin," he said, his English improving as he switched to a more respectful tone. "We were told to expect you. But we are also instructed to challenge anyone who approaches. As in this place, we must be sure. You understand."

...

Name: Caleb Thorne

Age: 23

Body Attributes:

- Strength: 7/10 → 8/10

- Agility: 7/10 → 8/10

- Perception: 8/10 → 9/10

- Stamina: 7/10 → 8/10

- Charm: 7/10 → 8/10

- Luck: 8/10 → 9/10

Skills:

- Handgun (Lvl 4) → (Lvl MAX)

- Rifle (Lvl 4) → (Lvl MAX)

- Firearms Knowledge (Lvl 4) → (Lvl MAX)

- Past Life Memory (Lvl MAX)

- Knife (Lvl 4) → (Lvl MAX)

- Blunt Weapon (Lvl 1) → (Lvl 2)

- Sneaking (Lvl 4) → (Lvl MAX)

- Horse Mastery (Lvl 4) → (Lvl MAX)

- Poker (Lvl 4) → (Lvl MAX)

- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl 4) → (Lvl MAX)

- Eagle Eye (Lvl 1) → (Lvl 2)

- Dead Eye (Lvl 3) → (Lvl 4)

- Bow (Lvl 2) → (Lvl 3)

- Pain Nullifier (Lvl 3) → (Lvl 4)

- Physical Regeneration (Lvl 2) → (Lvl 3)

- Crafting (Lvl 4) → (Lvl MAX)

- Persuasion (Lvl 4) → (Lvl MAX)

- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)

- Cooking (Lvl 4) → (Lvl MAX)

- Teaching (Lvl 2) → (Lvl 3)

- Trilingual Language Proficiency - G, I, & C (Lvl MAX)

- Inventory System (Permanent - 10x10x10)

- Acting (Lvl 4) → (Lvl MAX)

- Alcohol Resistance (Lvl MAX)

- Treasure Hunter (Lvl MAX)

- Drugs Resistance (Lvl MAX)

Money: 3,471 dollars and 10 cents

Inventory: 192,892 dollars and 61 cents, 11 gold nuggets, 65 gold bars, 1 Double Action, 1 Schofield, 2 Colm's Schofields, land deed (Parcel), 1 Mauser, 1 Semi Auto Pistol, 1 Lancaster Repeater, 1 Old Wood Jewelry Box, 1 F.F Mausoleum small brass key, 1 Ruby, 1 Braithwaites Land Deed, & 1 Broken Pirate Sword

Bank: -

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