《Dungeon Safety Inspector》 Chapter 1 It was Christmas Eve, and this year it was my parents¡¯ turn to host. They¡¯d invited my aunt, her kids, my grandparents, and my mother¡¯s friend over. All in all, ten people were crammed into our small three-bedroom house¡¯s living room, leaving very little space to breathe¡ªlet alone hide. Mum¡¯s friend was a big-shot surgeon at the hospital who¡¯d been forced to skip her families vacation due to a packed surgery schedule. She was nice enough, but she and Mum had only become friends in the last few years, so we didn¡¯t have a reason to be particularly close. I¡¯d retreated to my bedroom soon after my aunt turned her attention to me, her wine-fuelled voice cutting through the cheerful hum of holiday chatter. ¡°So, still not doing anything after high school?¡± she asked, her tone dripping with condescension. I knew what she was really asking: ¡°Still wasting your life?¡± I¡¯d tried to explain. I told her I was moderating Discord groups and subreddits for a few moderately successful YouTubers. I even mentioned being offered the chance to apply for a paid position as a community manager in the new year. And, for a brief moment, I planned to mention my idea of starting a gaming Twitch channel once I had enough for a better computer. But I didn¡¯t even get halfway through. ¡°Subreddits and Discords?¡± she interrupted with a drunken guffaw. ¡°No fucking wonder you¡¯ve never had a girlfriend¡ªyou¡¯re such a fucking nerd.¡± I had broken up with my long-term girlfriend three months ago¡ªwe¡¯d had a fight in a shopping centre¡ªbut I wasn¡¯t about to start arguing that point. I didn¡¯t bother looking at my parents. What would¡¯ve been the point? I already knew where they stood. A few weeks ago, I¡¯d overheard them talking late at night, their words carrying through the thin walls after too many glasses of wine. ¡°He¡¯s never going to learn to look after himself if you keep babying him!¡± my father had snapped, his voice low but fierce. ¡°He¡¯s 24 next year, and he¡¯s never even had a real job.¡± My mother had sighed, her tone despondent. ¡°I just don¡¯t know where I went wrong.¡± The memory stung as I closed my bedroom door and flopped into my worn recliner, the one piece of furniture that felt like home. I pushed the thought of my looming eviction out of my mind. I knew what my father had planned for the next time he was home. He¡¯d call it ¡°apartment hunting¡± to soften the blow, but the destination would be the recruitment centre downtown. ¡°The Army made me the man I am today,¡± he¡¯d say whenever the topic of employment came up. ¡°It really shows you your place in the world, teaches you to be a proper member of society. Makes you get your hands dirty!¡± The thought made my chest tighten. I hated the idea of following the same path he did¡ªgetting swallowed up and turned into something I didn¡¯t recognize. But I shook it off and surveyed my room. To my parents, it was a shrine to my ineptitude, the cluttered embodiment of my wasted potential. Posters, figurines, merch, and gaming paraphernalia filled every available surface. But to me, it was so much more. Each poster, each plastic replica, each questionably dressed figurine was a gateway to a memory. My eyes drifted to the authentic, production-quality Deadpool suit hanging from my closet door. Just looking at it transported me back to Comicon, standing in line with my friends, debating who would be the coolest cameo in the upcoming Spider-Man movie. ¡°Ahhh, home,¡± I thought to myself, sinking deeper into my chair. In this room, at least, I was safe. BA-DING. A notification lit up my phone.
T-Dizzle: RRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE RYAN! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU NEEEEERRRRRDDDDDDDD
T-Dizzle¡ªreal name Tyler¡ªwas an old guildmate from my MMORPG days who¡¯d somehow landed on my real-life friends list. When I first met them, they¡¯d been shy, reserved, and awkwardly polite. Over the years, they¡¯d¡­ evolved. Now Tyler had the energy of a caffeinated raccoon, unpredictable and, at times, outright exhausting.
Out-Of-Body: Calm down. Did you sneak your sister¡¯s Adderall again? You know that shit makes you tweak out.
I¡¯d planned to spend the evening grinding ranks in some new loot-grinder gacha game that Tyler was currently obsessed with. It wasn¡¯t exactly my thing, but we had an understanding¡ªno one played alone. If one of us was playing something, all of us did, even if it was only for a week before we collectively moved on to something else.
Sharlalala: Dude, we¡¯ve been waiting for like an hour, and Tyler¡¯s running out of lore to tell me. T-Dizzle: Not even close. Did you know that Princess Fullgore¡¯s armour, even though it looks like a bikini, is actually made out of translucent¡ª
I turned off my phone screen with a sigh and slid it back into my pocket. Reaching under my desk, my fingers found the cable minder with practised ease. I popped open one of its latches, letting a small brass pipe and a Kinder Egg capsule roll into my palm. Sharlalala¡ªreal name Sharla¡ªwas the oldest of our group, well into her thirties and actually successful. She worked as a doctor for some semi-shady prescription-for-cash site operating under a shell company that ¡°connected patients with physicians open to alternative therapies.¡± She had been our guild leader back when Tyler and I first met her, and she¡¯d tracked us down years later in a Discord group for a beta test of some Monster Hunter clone. It was Sharla who had insisted I book a session with one of her associates, landing me a medical marijuana prescription six months ago. ¡°It¡¯s better than the shit you get off the streets,¡± she¡¯d said, her tone smooth and convincing, like she¡¯d said it a thousand times before. ¡°And this way, you don¡¯t have to deal with those assholes from your old high school. You know they rip you off.¡± She wasn¡¯t wrong. My parents and I had reached an uneasy truce about it. Their solution was simple: as long as they didn¡¯t find it and I stayed in my room while I was high, they wouldn¡¯t say anything. That was their answer to a lot of things¡ªshove it out of sight, keep it hidden, and pretend it wasn¡¯t there. I packed the pipe, lit it, and took a slow drag. The acrid smoke filled my mouth, coating my tongue with its bitter, earthy taste. I stifled a cough, exhaling the plume into the corner of the room where it dissipated like a ghost. The world softened. I slid on my headset and booted up my PC, the glow of the screen cutting through the dim room. As the cushioned pads settled over my ears, I caught the sound of laughter erupting from down the hall, where the night¡¯s festivities continued in full swing. I leaned back in my chair, my hands resting on the keyboard. This, I thought, was home.
We¡¯d been playing for a few hours, and I was thoroughly toasted. My movements had become slow and clumsy, and my focus was shot. I was mostly zoning out, doing my best to keep up with Tyler and Sharla as they carried me through the game. From the living room, the murmur of conversation drifted down the hall, punctuated by bursts of overenthusiastic laughter. It was past 1 a.m., and I knew I wouldn¡¯t last much longer. Sharla had recently switched my prescription to a ¡°proprietary blend¡± she claimed would guarantee a peaceful Christmas. I wasn¡¯t sure if ¡°peaceful¡± meant mellow or comatose, but at this point, I wasn¡¯t about to argue. I packed another pipe, taking a long, hard pull, the smoke burning as it coated my lungs. A coughing fit seized me, racking my body for what felt like two minutes straight. As I fought to catch my breath, I noticed the voices from the living room had gone completely silent. Anticipating the inevitable confrontation I hammered out a quick message.
Out-Of-Body: Hey guys, brb, gotta drop for a quick sec.
We were in a voice chat in game, so I left the game entirely to avoid becoming a spectacle. Panic prickled at the edges of my mind. Was my dad about to storm down the hall for the third drunken lecture this week? But before I could worry too much, the sensation in my head shifted. At first, it was just a tingle. Then a buzz. Then a rattle. Then pain. It built rapidly, morphing into a stabbing sensation that left me clutching my head. A soundless void filled my ears, a noise like the sudden absence of everything. Then, from somewhere deep in my skull, a low electronic hum began to build, settling into the background of my thoughts.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. ¡°What the fuck was that?¡± I muttered, my voice trembling as I clutched a tuft of my hair. Down the hall, the silence was shattered by gasps and shouts, but I didn¡¯t have time to process what might be happening. A voice¡ªsmooth, detached, and utterly alien¡ªspoke inside my mind.
System Notification: Hello and welcome. You will soon be grouped into selection teams. Please wait while your interface is populated.
¡°WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?¡± I shouted, louder this time. As if responding to my outburst, my vision warped. Boxes, graphs, and widgets flooded into view, their edges glowing faintly. The sheer volume of information overwhelmed me, framing the room with dense layers of data I couldn¡¯t comprehend. Just as quickly as they appeared, most of the visuals slid away, leaving behind a row of ten boxes on the left-hand side of my vision. Each box contained a small portrait, and my stomach twisted as I recognised the faces. There was me, surrounded by a glowing white border. Below me were my mum, dad, grandmother, grandfather, aunt, uncle, their two children, and my mum¡¯s friend. Each portrait had a smaller box in the corner with dots pulsing ominously. I barely had time to process the images when another notification blinked into existence, dominating the centre of my vision with a jarring BA-DING that sent me scrambling back in my chair. I overbalanced, tipping over completely and crashing to the floor on its side. The thin carpet barely cushioned the impact as pain flared in my chin from the rough landing. Even with my eyes squeezed shut, the message remained burned into my vision, unyielding.
System Notification: You have been sorted into groups of roughly 12 people. Some of you were alone, so you might not recognise those in your group. No matter! Your job is simple: pick whoever you want to submit to The Tithe. If you fail to choose in 300 of your Earth seconds, the choice will be made at random.
At the bottom of the message, a bold number¡ª268¡ªticked down ominously. The word Tithe was underlined, pulsing with a rhythm that demanded attention. A small tool-tip appeared over my father¡¯s picture. As I focused on it, the image greyed out, and two icons appeared: an orange tick and a purple cross. In the smaller box in the right-hand corner, a 0 flashed in sterile, blinking digits. I swiped at the message, desperate to dismiss it like an annoying fly. It didn¡¯t budge, clinging to my vision like a parasite. I glanced up at my computer, but my room was completely dark. No glow of suburbia filtered through the blinds above my bed. The world beyond them had vanished into pitch black. Panic rising, I fumbled for something to pull myself off the floor. My hand found the edge of my bed, and I hauled myself upright. My phone. I needed the flashlight. I dug into my pocket, yanking it out and pressing the power button. Nothing. I pressed it harder, then held it down for several seconds. Still, nothing. The timer on the message had reached 230 My head swam, nausea clawing at the edges of my stomach. I realised I still held the pipe in my left hand, its bowl half-packed and charred. A faint buzz tickled the back of my skull.
BA-DING System Notification: All interface options disabled prior to selection.
I froze. My father had shown me a drug diversion video plucked from the 1940''s, the memory came to me unbidden.
REEFER MADNESS! A Gateway to Insanity. One puff, one toke, is all it takes to shatter the mind''s delicate balance. Under the influence of this nefarious substance, users are said to see visions that defy logic¡ªa swirl of shapes, colours, and horrors that do not exist! Friends and family transform into grotesque caricatures, their once-familiar faces warped by the drug''s ghastly spell.
My breathing quickened. ¡°Oh god,¡± I thought. ¡°This is it. I¡¯ve gone off the deep end. I¡¯m hallucinating. How long have I been on the floor? Am I even in my house anymore? Oh fuck, oh fuck!¡± The timer reached 200, and the message minimized into the corner of my vision, leaving behind a glowing 199 that pulsed faintly. I stumbled into the hallway, the darkness pressing in like a living thing. My eyes adjusted enough to make out silhouettes: my mother hugging my aunt, their parents sitting on either side, arms draped over their shoulders. My heart thundered as I scanned the room. My mother¡¯s friend stood in the corner, desperately trying to get her phone to respond. My father paced the room, shouting orders, his voice sharp and frantic as he rifled through the kitchen drawers. ¡°Where are the damn candles?¡± he asked no one in particular, his tone teetering on the edge of panic. ¡°Everyone, get a light source going!¡± my dad barked, his voice sharp and commanding. ¡°It must have been an EMP or something. If anyone has a lighter, I¡¯ll be taking it. Henry, I¡¯m going to need you and Dale to come with me and get my emergency box from the garage.¡± Whether he didn¡¯t notice that no one was listening or just chose to press on, he kept barking orders into the void. I glanced through the glass door into the backyard. The night sky was startlingly clear, the stars bright and vivid, painted across the darkness like a masterpiece. ¡°Whoa,¡± I muttered, momentarily stunned. It had been years since I¡¯d seen the sky without the oppressive haze of light pollution¡ªnot since the camping trips my dad used to take me on when I was a kid. I was still thoroughly under the effects, and as expected, my attention span could be measured in seconds. I lost myself for a moment, gazing into the night sky; some of the lights formed vast geometric shapes that spun and twirled. It didn¡¯t exactly strike me as out of the ordinary and I just chalked it up to my altered state. The soft murmurs of my cousins pulled me back to the present. They were huddled with their dad, who seemed to be trying¡ªand failing¡ªto explain something to them. 120. The red timer in the corner of my vision blinked insistently, pulling me back to the cold reality of the interface still lingering in my sight. A warm yellow light filled the room as the sound of a match striking broke the tense silence. My dad¡¯s silhouette moved through the glow, the single flame quickly multiplying into individual globs of light as he passed out candles to everyone in the room. It was then I noticed the looks on their faces¡ªabject terror and confusion. My uncle Henry was whispering to his children, his finger pointed directly at me. Then he moved to my aunt, leaning in close and muttering something I couldn¡¯t hear. My mother recoiled, her eyes wide as they filled with tears. She dropped the candle my dad had just handed her, burying her face in her hands. My grandmother pulled her into a tight hug, while my grandfather reached over, patting her knee. His eyes flicked up to meet mine, but he quickly looked down again, his face pale and grim. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± I finally managed to say, my voice cracking under the weight of the tension. ¡°Mum, is everything alright?¡± She sobbed harder, her shoulders shaking violently. B-ZZZZ. A buzz behind my left eye snapped my attention to the interface. My father¡¯s portrait was still selected, with the same two options hovering beside it. But my own portrait caught my eye. The small square in the corner now had a number in it: 4. No, wait¡ª5. Then 7. Confusion clouded my mind, the drugs making everything hazy and disjointed. My eyes itched and burned as if they were on fire. Henry stood from behind the couch, moving toward my dad, his voice raised but the words indistinct in my swirling thoughts. 83. The timer was ticking down. Suddenly, my dad shoved my uncle hard, sending him sprawling onto the floor. ¡°FUCK YOU, YOU SNIVELING LITTLE GOBSHITE!¡± He grabbed Henry by the shirt collar with both hands, slamming him back down to the floor before storming over to my mother. ¡°You didn¡¯t,¡± he hissed, his voice trembling. ¡°Please tell me you didn¡¯t!¡±
System Notification: 60 seconds remain.
The box flashed in my vision, the countdown number glaring bright. My portrait now displayed 8. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter, Mark,¡± Henry said weakly from the floor, his voice resigned. ¡°The thing said a majority would be accepted.¡± I stared at my dad. His face was streaked with tears. My dad never cried. Then, suddenly, he was on his feet again, storming toward me. My breath caught, and I braced myself for the shouting I knew was coming. But instead, his voice was quiet¡ªalmost a whisper. ¡°Son,¡± he said, his voice trembling. ¡°You¡¯re going to be going away now. I don¡¯t know what¡¯s happening, but I need you to be strong, okay?¡± ¡°Dad?¡± I stammered, confusion overwhelming me. ¡°I think I might have smoked too muc¡ª¡± ¡°SHUT UP AND LISTEN!¡± he roared, his voice exploding in volume. The sudden shift made my ears ring as his words hung in the air like a heavy weight. 40. ¡°I¡¯m going to get you some supplies. It won¡¯t be much.¡± My dad¡¯s voice cut through the fog in my head. ¡°Did you read what the message said about the tithe? You have to focus on the word for a moment. If you haven¡¯t, do it quickly.¡± He turned and bolted toward the garage, his footsteps fading almost as quickly as he¡¯d spoken. The notification box flashed back to the centre of my vision. The word Tithe was still underlined, the pulsing dots drawing my attention. At the bottom, the timer was in the single digits, each number blinking bright red as it ticked down. With no better option, I focused on the word. After half a second, a new tooltip appeared:
BA-DING. The Tithe: Very few beings have the honour of being selected by their fellows for The Tithe. Those selected will go on to face perilous challenges, dangerous quests, and, if history is anything to go by, die in glorious spectacle. If you do prove yourself, then fame, riches, and the chance to kick the asses of those who chose you awaits.
¡°What is this thing talking about?¡± I mumbled groggily, my voice slurred. My head felt like it was spinning, the room tilting around me. 5. The message vanished before I could process it. Frantically, I searched for my dad, but he was nowhere in sight. Instead, my eyes found my mother again. She was trembling now, her sobs louder, harsher. ¡°Mum?¡± I called, my voice cracking. She looked up, her tear-streaked face barely visible in the dim light. Her makeup ran in dark, jagged streaks, like rivers cutting through a storm-washed landscape. All she said was, ¡°I¡¯m sor¡ª¡± The timer hit zero.
BA-DING. System Notification: You have been chosen. Prepare for displacement.
The world blinked out of existence with a sharp, audible pop. For a moment, there was nothing. No light, no sound, no sensation. Then, abruptly, the void snapped away, and I was somewhere else. A new message filled my vision:
BA-DING. System Notification: Interface now unlocked. Welcome, player. Please proceed to the nearest settlement for induction.
Before I could even react, another notification appeared. This time, it spoke aloud¡ªa voice smooth and alluring, radiating comfort yet edged with an authority that sent a shiver down my spine. It was unlike anything I had heard before. Now, as I struggled to make sense of my unfamiliar surroundings, I couldn¡¯t help but feel a stupid grin tugging at the corners of my mouth. The voice was just that good. It poured into my mind like warm honey, saturating every crevice of my brain and leaving me momentarily spellbound.
BA-DING. New Quest: Get Home Before the Street Lights Turn On. Description: Mother always told you it wasn¡¯t safe to be out after dark. Is now really the best time to test that advice? Get to a neutral settlement before the lights turn on and the night things come out to play. Reward: 1 coupon for a premium room at any neutral or allied settlement.
The notification minimized into the corner of my vision, replacing the timer with a gold-highlighted box that read, Quest(1). My head swam. I stumbled as I tried to make sense of what was happening. The trees around me were impossibly tall, their thick trunks knotted with age. They filled the air with an intoxicating mix of cinnamon and pine. Their branches were adorned with spindly twigs, each bursting with dense clumps of leaves and vibrant flowers in shades of purple and red. Above, patches of sky peeked through the canopy¡ªa soft blue mottled with streaks of grey clouds drifting lazily across it. ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± I whispered, my voice shaking. ¡°Where¡¯s my family? My house? Is my mum okay? What was my dad saying?¡± My stomach churned violently. I took a step back, my heel landing on something unstable. A loose rock. I slipped. My balance gave out, and I stumbled, arms flailing as I thudded backward into the nearest tree. My head struck the rough bark with a dull crack, and I slid to the ground, my knees pulling up instinctively. The nausea overwhelmed me. The instant shift from pitch black to what seemed to be the middle of the day made my eyes sting as they adjusted to the brightness. I could feel myself losing my grip on consciousness. I doubled over and retched, my vision blurring as everything tilted sideways and begun to tunnel down to a single point. The last thing I saw was the vibrant purple flowers swaying gently above me before my eyes fluttered shut and the world faded to black. Chapter 2 I was jolted awake by a tactile buzzing behind my right eye. The sensation was sharp, persistent, and disorienting. I groaned as I became aware of my surroundings¡ªa pool of my own vomit soaked the dirt and grass beneath me. My teeth ached, bits of earth and grit stuck to my tongue. The beautiful, authoritative voice returned, this time with a scolding tone. It wasn¡¯t angry¡ªjust disappointed, like a teacher gently chastising a student for whispering in class. I¡¯d been obsessed with ASMR ever since I first experienced it. What started as a fascination with spine-tingling tapping and popping sounds evolved into a specific preference for well-articulated female voices. Over time, it became so ingrained that a video game with the wrong narrator could completely ruin the experience for me. The sound was so utterly captivating, so irresistibly smooth, that the meaning of its words almost slipped past me unnoticed.
BA-BAAAA. Quest failed: Get home before the streetlights turn on. Tut, tut, tut. I don''t know how you managed to mess this up. It was only a 15-minute walk along a dirt path. Oh well, better luck next life.
The notification disappeared as soon as the voice finished. I had no idea how long I¡¯d been out. My body ached from lying on the uneven ground, and the graze on my chin itched unbearably. I reached up to scratch it, my fingers brushing against a hardened scab. Blood smeared onto my fingertips. I winced, pulling back instinctively. When I touched it again, the wound felt oddly tacky, as though it had reopened hours ago, already starting to heal. I pushed myself upright, groaning as I looked around. The forest had grown darker, bathed in the warm orange glow of the setting sun. Shadows stretched long and jagged across the ground. About a hundred meters down the path, a soft flickering light caught my attention¡ªa flame-lit lamp swaying gently in the breeze. I stood, only to crumple immediately as my leg gave out. The numbness of having laid on it struck all at once, followed by a sharp, tingling pain that surged through my nerves. I fell forward, smacking my forehead hard against an exposed tree root. Pain exploded above my right eye. I gasped, clutching at the wound as I felt blood begin to trickle down the side of my face. A faint red haze crept into my vision, inching in from the edges. It lingered for a moment before fading away, leaving me dazed and breathless. I sat up slowly, careful not to jar my aching head, and wiped the blood from my face. My fingers moved cautiously around the wound, avoiding direct contact with the gash. My hand slipped into my pocket, searching for something¡ªanything¡ªthat could help. ¡°YES!¡± I exclaimed as my fingers closed around the familiar shape. I pulled out my phone, only for the excitement to evaporate instantly. The screen was dark, the power button unresponsive. I sighed, catching my reflection in the blank glass. My hair was a wild mess, matted with dirt and vomit. My brown curls stuck out at odd angles, giving me the appearance of someone who¡¯d rolled out of bed and immediately survived a car crash. My round face stared back at me, its soft edges betraying the years of inactivity that had added weight to my frame. Dad¡¯s hiking routines had kept me fit once¡ªhours of forced marches, relentless daily "challenges" like "50 push-ups before dinner" or "move all my weights to the garage." But since his deployment, I¡¯d let it slide, and the lack of activity was starting to show. I leaned closer to the reflection, my eyes drawn to the wound above my eyebrow. To my astonishment, the blood had already clotted, and the injury looked like it was hours into healing. A faint crunch of footsteps broke the silence. I turned toward the sound, my heart pounding as a figure emerged from the woods. They stumbled onto the path, clutching their side. Several arrows jutted from their ribs, their shafts dark and splintered. The figure wore a green hooded cloak, leather gloves, a quilted shirt, brown pants, and scuffed black boots. They moved unsteadily, each step dragging as though they were barely holding themselves together. I stood again, the numbness in my leg replaced by a fierce tingling sensation that felt like it had been hooked to an electrical outlet. My balance wavered, but I steadied myself, eyes locked on the wounded figure as they staggered closer. "Hey!" I shouted to the figure. They didn¡¯t respond, their limp form swaying heavily to one side as they staggered along the path. They caught themselves against a tree, leaving a dark red smear as they pushed away. The blood fizzed unnaturally, releasing a stench of rotting meat that hit me like a freight train. I gagged, raising my arm to cover my face in a futile attempt to block the smell. "HEY! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?" I cried, shuffling towards them. The figure slowed, then stopped, slumping against another tree before sliding down to rest in the grass. I willed my legs to move faster as the tingling sensation in them began to fade. Moments later, I reached them. Their hood was pulled low over their face, obscuring their features. Hesitantly, I tugged it back to get a better look¡ªand recoiled in surprise. Their face was vaguely human but far too hairy. Thick ringlets of brown fur covered everything except their eyes and mouth. The deep brown eyelids were half-closed, framing brilliant yellow eyes with an unsettling double-slit pupil that formed a cross where a normal pupil would be. Their slack, unmoving mouth hung open, blood trickling in a thin line from the corner of their lips. The teeth within were an odd mixture¡ªsharp, predatory fangs juxtaposed with flat, herbivorous molars. Their face was slightly elongated, with their mouth and nose forming a vaguely wolf-like appearance. The... person¡¯s... ears were small and round, pressed tightly against their head. Like the rest of them, the ears were covered in dense fur, except for their interiors, which revealed an intricate pattern of ridges and flaps, eerily reminiscent of a bat¡¯s ears. ¡°W-What the absolute fuck¡­?¡± I whispered to myself. Despite my parents¡¯ many failings, one thing they had managed to instil in me was a complete disregard for judging others based on their appearance. Still, I couldn¡¯t help but wonder if there was a limit to the reasonableness of that principle as I took in the sight before me. I shook the thought away. Whatever they were, they were clearly in need of help, and I hadn¡¯t been raised to ignore someone in such a plight. I reached out with a shaky, hand intending to try and check for signs of life. As I touched their neck to find a pulse, a new notification blinked into view. This time, there was no voice to accompany it, much to my disappointment.
BA-DING. Lootable container: Corpse.
The two choices hovered in soft white text, glowing faintly. I shook my head, willing them away, concentrating on trying to feel a heartbeat. Nothing. I examined the bone-like shafts protruding from their side. They weren¡¯t made of wood as I¡¯d first assumed but bone, their jagged edges embedded deep. Around the wounds, a thick green substance oozed, staining the fabric of their quilted shirt and releasing a stench so foul it made my stomach turn. I hooked my arms under their armpits and began to drag them towards the light further down the path. They were heavy¡ªfar heavier than I expected¡ªand my feet skidded on the loose dirt. I let them go, gasping for air as they slumped lifelessly to the ground, one arm resting awkwardly across my bare foot. I glanced down, reminded of how unprepared I was. A hoodie, track pants, and no shoes¡ªmy usual lounging attire¡ªnot exactly the ideal outfit for whatever this was.
BA-DING.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Lootable container: Corpse.
The notification reappeared. I swallowed hard, my mind racing. This doesn¡¯t make any sense, I thought. I¡¯m tripping. Sharla gave me a bad batch, and now I¡¯m hallucinating all of this. But then, in the back of my mind, a quiet voice tugged at me. No. This is real. You saw how they looked at you. Dad tried to warn you. My mind¡¯s eye fixed on the Inspect option, and with a faint haptic sensation, I selected it. Before me, an inventory menu materialized, divided into half a dozen tabs. The first screen displayed a collection of seemingly random items. Among them was something labelled ¡°Chrono Capture.¡± I selected it, but the system refused to transfer the item to me. Instead, a small window appeared, showcasing what it was. The item was rendered in a minimalistic 3D model that rotated slowly, bathed in soft light. It looked like a photo frame but with an unusual, almost otherworldly geometry. Leaning closer, I noticed a faint outline of three figures huddled together, laughing. One of them¡ªa small figure, likely a child¡ªwas perched on the shoulders of the tallest. The scene within the picture moved subtly; the figures shifted their stance, smiled at each other, and laughed softly, their interactions frozen in a looping moment of joy. The throbbing in my toes yanked me back to the present, a sharp reminder of the jagged rocks beneath my feet. Shaking myself free of the reverie, I navigated to the "Apparel" tab. The list was cluttered with items¡ªnecklaces, rings, scarves, and, mercifully, boots. The item was labelled "Walkin'' Boots." I selected it, and with a soft fwoomp, a secondary menu appeared labelled Personal Storage. From there, I chose the Equip option. With a light plonk, the boots materialized onto my feet. I wiggled my toes experimentally. The boots were fur-lined, fitting my feet with uncanny precision. They flexed and stretched with my movements, far more comfortable than I expected.
BA-DING. Achievement: These Boots Are Made for Walkin¡¯ Description: You have found and equipped your first pair of magical boots. Great job! Need help with the laces? Reward: You have been awarded a container of foot powder. It¡¯ll help them not smell¡ªbe thankful.
The absurdity of the situation gave me pause, but the ache in my feet had faded, replaced by a surprising warmth and support. The climate was nothing like Townsville¡ªthe city I had lived in for the last six years of my life. The air was cold and dry; it must have been in the low teens, or mid-fifties if you don¡¯t use Celsius. My hoodie and track pants were performing admirably against the frigid breeze, but a chill still seeped through. I returned my attention to the inventory, wishing there were some way to sort the mess. To my surprise, the list rearranged itself, though still seemingly random. No values were attached to the items, and the top listing was a plain copper ring marked as equipped. Am I really going to take a ring off a corpse? The thought made my stomach churn. I¡¯d already stolen this person¡¯s boots¡ªand worse, I was wearing them. ¡°At least they weren¡¯t wearing them,¡± I muttered, trying to justify my actions. The words felt hollow even as I said them. For several moments, I wrestled with the ethics of looting a corpse, my sense of decency warring with the reality of my situation. Finally, I settled on a compromise: I would inspect the ring. If it turned out to be life-saving or essential, I¡¯d take it. Otherwise, I¡¯d leave it where it was. Reflecting on this moment, I now realize I probably should have spared a thought for how this man had just died¡ªand more importantly, how close his killers might still be. As I unequipped the ring from the man¡¯s finger and added it to my inventory, a rustling sound snapped me out of my thoughts. It came from just a few dozen meters away in the forest. My head jerked up, and I froze, watching as three small, green, and profoundly grotesque creatures emerged from the trees. They stood about four feet tall, each clad in mismatched circus attire that somehow made them even more horrifying. The first wore a large, fluffy collar that looked like it had been ripped off a mangy animal and repurposed. The second was clad in a blue-and-orange pinstripe one-piece suit, the fabric fraying at every seam. The third had draped a fur sash over one shoulder, letting it fall into a crude skirt that would¡¯ve been comical if it weren¡¯t so unsettling. Their teeth jutted out at bizarre angles, looking as though they¡¯d been scavenged from a collection of various animals. Their sickly green skin was a patchwork of sores, welts, and pustules that glistened in the fading light. Each head bore a thin, greasy slick of black hair. Their noses were mismatched and entirely wrong: one had a bulbous round nose the size of a fist, another an impossibly long, thin nose with upward-facing nostrils, and the last sported what would¡¯ve been a perfectly normal infant¡¯s nose¡ªif it hadn¡¯t been grotesquely shrunken and scrunched into the centre of their face. The baby-nosed creature¡¯s eyes were unnervingly close together, forcing it to swing its head back and forth in exaggerated motions just to see what it was looking at. My stomach dropped. The creatures barked at each other in harsh, guttural tones interspersed with snarls, spitting, and snorting¡ªa symphony of every gross sound a person could make, mixed with the tearing noise of a pit bull destroying a chew toy. After a few seconds of arguing, they turned down the path toward me. Sweat soaked my hoodie as panic gripped me. My hands trembled, and every instinct screamed that I was about to be torn apart. I needed to do something clever. I did not do something clever. Standing up robotically, I turned on my heel and began speed-walking away as if I were trying not to run near a lifeguard at the pool. I made it six steps before glancing back. The baby-nosed creature had a bow drawn, its arrow aimed squarely at my back. "OH FUCK OH SHIT!" I yelled, diving into the nearest bush. An arrow thudded into the dirt where I¡¯d just been standing, quivering ominously. The dead... man¡¯s... inventory blinked away once I was roughly ten feet from them, leaving only my personal storage visible.
Personal Storage -Player 1209348-
Frantically, I selected the ring, spamming the mental equivalent of a mouse click as I prayed under my breath, please be invisibility, please be invisibility, PLEASE BE INVISIBILITY. With a faint shimmer, the ring equipped itself.
BA-DING. Achievement: Ring Around the Rosey. Description: You have found and equipped a magic ring. Hope you identified it first. Reward: 1 coupon for a prosthetic finger.
BA-DING. Skill Acquired: Goblin Speech You now understand and can speak goblin.
BA-DING. Achievement: Skill Issue Description: You acquired a skill. Great! That¡¯ll happen to everyone eventually¡­ as long as they don¡¯t, you know, die. Reward: You have unlocked the Skill view in your interface. Sick.
BA-DING. Skill Acquired: Morph Form You are able to take the form of any creature you have catalogued. You don¡¯t gain any inherent abilities, but it¡¯s an amazing party trick.
I blinked several times, my mind reeling. There was so much subtext crammed into those few notifications that I barely knew where to start. The sheer absurdity of a prosthetic finger coupon made me feel like I was about to lose it all over again. My lip stung as I bit down hard, the metallic taste of blood clearing my head just enough to focus. At the top of my vision, a new tab had appeared: Skills. Curious and desperate, I selected it, watching as my personal storage minimized into the corner of my interface. The new window displayed two options:
  1. Goblin Speech
Passive skill. Allows comprehension and communication in Goblin.
  1. Morph Form
Active skill. Temporarily assume the appearance of any catalogued creature. Duration varies by target.
I pressed on Morph Form, and a tooltip popped up labelled Bestiary. It was empty. "Bugger," I muttered under my breath, the realisation adding another layer of frustration to my spiralling panic. I belly-crawled deeper into the forest, keeping as low as possible, until I found an overhanging root system large enough to serve as an emergency hiding spot. The tangled roots created a small, dark pocket beneath them, just big enough for me to curl into. Grabbing whatever was within reach¡ªbranches, leaves, mud¡ªI piled it on top of myself, layering it thick to camouflage my presence. My dad¡¯s survival lessons had paid off yet again, though I doubted even he had imagined this specific scenario. I curled into a ball, every muscle in my body tense. Not long after I finished camouflaging myself, the goblins came in search of me. Their snarls, snorts, and spitting grew louder as they approached, their guttural noises becoming less random. To my surprise, I began to understand their words.
BA-DING. Achievement: Bilingual Description: You have gained the ability to speak another language! See? It was totally worth giving up hours of your free time every Thursday after school. Now you can act all high and mighty around those filthy monolinguals. Reward: 1 "Bonjour" Sticker.
The ridiculousness of the reward barely registered as the goblins¡¯ conversation reached my ears. ¡°Gotta make this fast. Can¡¯t trust that prick with the loot,¡± one of them said, their voice nasally and raspy, as if permanently congested. ¡°To the void with it. We¡¯ll just say we got him with an arrow, and he fell off a cliff,¡± the second replied, their words carrying a peculiar whistling lilt. ¡°That¡¯s stupid. They¡¯ll want to see the cliff, won¡¯t they? No, let¡¯s say a pack of wolves got him. Make him want to run away, it will,¡± the first one retorted. The second goblin snorted loudly, gurgled, and then spat a fist-sized glob of snot onto the ground. I gagged, trying to suppress the wave of nausea that rose in my throat. Then the first goblin repeated the gesture. When they both knelt, scooped up the globs, and slapped their hands together with a sickening squelch, I was sure I was going to vomit. Somehow, I managed to keep it down, my body trembling as I clamped my hand over my mouth. Covered in mud, vomit, blood, leaves, and¡ªpossibly¡ªgoblin snot, I started to cry. Silent tears streaked down my dirt-streaked face as I lay curled under the roots, wishing more than anything to be home. I thought of my family. I wished I could be back in that cramped living room, debating with my aunt about the intricacies of community management. I¡¯d endure every condescending remark, every mocking laugh, just to see them again. I¡¯d tell my dad that I¡¯d sign up for the military the second the recruitment office opened¡ªand I¡¯d mean it this time. I¡¯d tell my mum not to worry anymore. That I¡¯d get my life together. But I wasn¡¯t there. I was alone, cold, and terrified, hiding from creatures that might kill me the moment they found me. The sobs dried up eventually, leaving only the hollow ache in my chest. My head pounded, my lips cracked and dry from dehydration. Exhausted and defeated, I drifted off into a restless sleep, cradled in the filth of the forest floor. Chapter 3 BA-DING. Achievement: Sleeping Rough Description: You spent a night in the wilderness without any camping supplies or magical protection. You''re either seriously hardcore or in desperate need of a hug. Either way, I bet you could do with a shower. Reward:
The notification jolted me awake. Light filtered through the layers of leaf litter, branches, and detritus piled on top of me. The makeshift covering had done a remarkable job of trapping heat¡ªand hiding me. By the sheer fact that I was still breathing, it deserved an A+. Good job, survival instincts. I crawled out of the hole and stretched, my back letting out a loud, satisfying crack. Leaning forward to touch my toes, I heard another crunch. To my surprise, the dull ache that usually accompanied such stretches didn¡¯t linger. I prodded at the cut above my eye, bracing for a sting, but there was a thick scab that had formed that felt almost fully healed. My chin? Same. ¡°Well, okay then. That I don¡¯t mind,¡± I muttered, dismissing the notification. As I did, the reward items populated into my inventory. The Camping Pack appeared first¡ªa canvas tent with two telescoping rods. I spent the next ten minutes marvelling at how they transformed from a few centimetres long to a full six feet, trying to decipher the mechanics behind the spring-loaded ball bearings that activated them. The rods were sturdy and rigid, as if made of solid metal, but impossibly light. The canvas was heavy-looking, nearly a centimetre thick, with reinforced stitching along the edges. When unfolded, it bore no crease marks, as though freshly pressed. Yet when I folded it back up, it compressed easily into a neat square, no bigger than a sandwich. A knot tightened in my chest. My lip quivered as a memory surfaced¡ªmy dad giving me a similar kit for my 18th birthday. He¡¯d told me he was taking me hunting that weekend, but I¡¯d refused, arguing that I had a Twitch stream to moderate. The fight that followed was loud, angry, and full of words I wished I could take back. The weekend after, he dragged me out anyway, making me promise not to book anything. He spent hours barking instructions like I was a new recruit, calling me "Private" as he made me put the tent up and take it down repeatedly. That night, he built a fire, pulled out a hip flask, and offered me a swig. I refused, still sulking about missing my Switch. He told me stories of his service, of how hard he had it compared to me, his tone softer than I expected. I went to sleep that night wishing I was anywhere else. The memory faded as I pushed the feeling down. There wasn¡¯t time for regret now. Next, I examined the Ration Packs. There were two types: Morning and Night. They reminded me of cartoon army rations¡ªplain brown boxes the size of a loaf of bread, with "RATION" printed on two sides and "MORNING" or "NIGHT" on the others. The ends had faint fold marks, suggesting they could be peeled open. Clearing a small patch of ground, I sat and opened a Morning ration kit. Inside, I found: I stared at the contents, my stomach rumbling at the sight of the energy bar. Practical. Straightforward. Efficient. I slurped down the water so fast I choked, coughing and spluttering for several seconds before I could compose myself. Once the fit passed, I kept drinking. After draining the first container, I opened a second but sipped this one more conservatively. The breakfast cake came next. The packaging crinkled as I tore it open, revealing a moist, dense bar that looked like it was made of oatmeal, nuts, and dried fruit. It tasted incredible¡ªthough I couldn¡¯t tell if it was genuinely good or if I was just ravenous after what felt like 24 hours without food. Once I¡¯d taken a few bites, I pulled out my final reward: the Backpack of the Hoarder. It was made of leather from some scaled animal, reminiscent of crocodile skin but patterned with striking shades of dark yellow, blue, and brown. The straps were of the same material, soft yet sturdy, and the top flap, made of something akin to the canvas from the tent, was fastened with a brass latch. Open pockets on either side offered easy access for small items¡ªperfect for my phone, not that it was currently useful. Curious, I slid the bag onto my shoulders.
BA-DING. Achievement: Backpacker Description: You have found and equipped a magic backpack. Nice. You''re all set for your walking trip across some country whose name you can''t pronounce properly. Reward: Cardboard sign and marker kit.
I frowned. The incessant notifications were beginning to wear on me. ¡°Is there a way to disable these?¡± I muttered, then decided to leave the question for later. Better to wait until I was somewhere with walls¡ªand no goblins¡ªbefore messing with the interface. Pulling up my Personal Storage, I noticed two square brackets had appeared next to the backpack¡¯s name. Curious, I tapped on the entry. The brackets flipped, and a new indented line appeared beneath it:
Personal Storage -Player 1209348-
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. I nodded in approval. It was intuitive enough. I stashed the remaining half of my breakfast cake, the canvas tent, one of the retractable poles, the rope, and the rest of the water inside the backpack. Each item popped up in the indented inventory line:
¡°Well, at least that works how I expected,¡± I muttered. Items marked with an asterisk seemed to be special, possibly magical. The thought made my head spin, and I shook it off. I slid the other pole into my hoodie pocket, noting absently that the interface didn¡¯t recognize my pockets as inventory. Odd. With my gear sorted, I crouched low and made my way back to the road, stopping every few steps to check for movement. The forest seemed tranquil now, its earlier hostility replaced by a serene quiet. The Get Home Before the Street Lights Turn On quest had hinted that the area was most dangerous after dark. Still, I wasn¡¯t taking chances. When I reached the road, I saw that the man¡¯s body was gone. In its place was a dark, dried stain where he had bled out. ¡°They must¡¯ve taken the body,¡± I said quietly. I turned and walked down the road in the opposite direction from where the goblins had emerged. The path stretched before me, the light filtering through the trees casting dappled patterns on the ground. After walking for a while, a notification popped up:
BA-DING. Achievement: Kilometre Club Description: You walked 1km! Congratulations, future marathon runner! Reward: A can of foot deodorant.
I chuckled despite myself, tucking the deodorant into my new backpack. Experimenting, I tried adding items to my inventory without the interface. Plucking a leaf from a nearby tree, I held it in both hands, then mimed the exaggerated Zelda-style pose where Link holds up an item. Nothing. I tried pressing it to my chest, imagining it merging with me, but still, nothing happened. ¡°Alright, fine,¡± I muttered, letting the leaf fall to the ground.
After two hours of walking, doubt crept in. The notification had said the settlement was fifteen minutes away. I stopped in the middle of the path, muttered a quiet ¡°fuck,¡± and turned back the way I¡¯d come. I jogged to make up for lost time, the steady rhythm of my feet pounding against the dirt road. A low growl shattered my focus. Before I could react, something massive lunged out from the shadows. Pain exploded in my shoulder as it slammed into me. I stumbled, its teeth scraping through my hoodie, tearing fabric and grazing flesh. A snarl erupted in my ear as I spun around, heart hammering. The wolf was enormous¡ªgrey and black fur rippling with muscle, yellow eyes glowing with a predatory gleam. Its lips curled back, revealing fangs as long as daggers. It stood nearly shoulder-high, a monstrous presence that froze me in place. My pulse thundered in my ears as we locked eyes. I fumbled into my pocket, hands trembling, and grabbed the only thing I had: the collapsible tent pole. I barely got it halfway out before the beast lunged again. Its jaws opened wide¡ªblackness gaping into a void. Pain. Blinding pain. Its teeth clamped onto my forearm with a sickening crunch. I screamed, collapsing backward under its weight. My vision blurred, a creeping red haze spilling over the edges as the world bled into chaos. The wolf snarled and shook its head violently, shredding the skin on my arm. Pain raced through me like wildfire, each shake sending fresh waves of agony. Instinct took over. I kicked wildly, my foot connecting with an extremely ''sensitive'' spot beneath the beast. It yelped, jaws releasing me as it staggered back. Blood poured from my arm, soaking my hoodie, adrenaline flooded me and I barely registered the pain . The tent pole had fallen¡ªhalf-buried in the dirt between me and the wolf. The wolf shook off the blow, snarling as it crouched to lunge again. I threw myself forward, scrabbling for the pole. My fingers closed around the cool metal just as the beast pounced. Its jaws snapped, inches from my face. With a scream, I jammed my arm into its mouth. The slick, hot interior made my stomach churn, but I shoved deeper, forcing its jaws open. Teeth scraped my arm, but I didn¡¯t stop. My hand found the bump of the trigger on the pole. I pressed down. A metallic snap echoed, followed by a wet, sickening crunch. The pole extended, punching through the roof of the wolf¡¯s mouth and bursting out the top of its skull. Blood sprayed, hot and sticky, drenching my face and chest. The beast spasmed, its massive body twitching violently before collapsing on top of me. I gasped for air, shoving its limp form off with what strength I had left. Blood dripped from my ruined arm, pooling around me in the dirt. My vision swam as the red haze faded, leaving only the pounding of my heart and the mangled corpse of the wolf at my feet.
BA-DING. Achievement: Improv Assassin! Description: You have killed a hostile mob or person significantly more powerful than you in a single attack by using an environmental hazard, or defect in an item or structure, no less! Was it a poorly installed chandelier? Maybe one of Nobblehob''s fantastic potions that should¡¯ve been refrigerated but instead gave the poor sap Goblin Syphilis? One way or another, you can rest assured¡ªthey had no idea what hit them. If you keep this up, your antics might be noticed by the Harlequin Consortium, which may or may not be a good thing. Reward: Reward withheld until induction is completed.
I dismissed the notification, focusing on my arm. Pain radiated from the shattered limb, every attempt to flex my hand sending lightning bolts of agony up to my shoulder. My vision pulsed with red as I cradled it against my chest, hoping against hope that I wouldn¡¯t bleed out. Minutes passed, the pain steady and unrelenting, but the bleeding finally stopped. The pulsing red haze in my vision receded, and my head cleared enough to act. Using my good arm, I broke a branch from a nearby tree and pulled the rope from my inventory. I fashioned a crude sling, tying my arm tightly to my chest. The result was uncomfortable, but it would hold. Retrieving my pole from the wolf¡¯s mouth, I glanced at the carcass.
BA-DING. Lootable container: Beast Carcass.
I didn¡¯t hesitate, hitting Loot All. If another wolf showed up, I didn¡¯t want to waste time. SHHHLLLUURRPP. The noise was revolting¡ªlike someone slurping the last bit of a milkshake through a straw, amplified directly into my ears. The wolf carcass vanished, leaving behind a pile of bones that quickly crumbled into dust. A blue warning triangle appeared in my interface, a bag icon inside with shapes spilling out. I staggered, my knees buckling as if a weight had dropped onto my back. I opened my inventory and saw the culprit.
Personal Storage -Player 1209348-
Fifty kilos of wolf loot weighed me down like a boulder. Experimenting, I dragged the meat into the backpack using the interface. The change was instant¡ªI could stand again, though the weight was still noticeable. I moved the pelt into the backpack and deleted the organs from my inventory. Shwomp. A cardboard box with a cartoon wolf giving finger guns appeared at my feet. Inside were individually wrapped packages of organs, neatly tied with twine. "Shit," I muttered. ¡°How do I get this back in?¡± The backpack''s opening wasn¡¯t large enough to fit the box. I discovered that unless an object could physically fit, it couldn¡¯t be stored. The only workaround was to move items to my inventory through the interface, then back into the backpack. I decided to leave the box behind. With my arm in its sling and my gear secured, I began jogging.
I had been jogging for about two hours, the effortlessness of my movements startled me. Despite the additional weight, I could jog for long stretches without tiring, though I kept my pace slow to avoid jarring my injured arm. The forest grew quieter as I moved, the howls of wolves fading in the distance. I reached the road, a dark stain marked where the body had been. Within ten minutes, I reached the gates of a fortified settlement. Two tall watchtowers flanked the entrance, and smaller doors within the massive gate stood open. Standing outside were two towering figures¡ª7ft tall humanoid capybaras. Their dark, scarred cuirasses gleamed faintly in the light, their halberds resting casually at their sides. Poofy red-and-blue hats adorned their heads, resembling the uniforms of Vatican guards. They wore no pants. I stood there, dumbstruck, drinking in the bizarre sight. One of the guards noticed me. A wave of calm washed over me as they approached, their deep brown eyes exuding warmth and tranquillity. "Hey, mate. You alright?" the capybara asked, its Australian accent breaking the surreal silence. I blinked at the creature in disbelief. Then, I felt my legs give way and everything went black. Chapter 4 When I woke up, I was lying in a hospital bed, staring at the ceiling. My arm, which the wolf had shredded earlier, was now a dull, numb ache. I flexed it experimentally, feeling a strange but promising resistance. Looking down, I saw that the limb had mostly healed, though it was unnervingly flexible in spots. ¡°You¡¯re awake,¡± a familiar Australian accent said. I turned my head and blinked at the sight of the giant capybara guard lounging against the wall. His massive, stoic face stared back at me. ¡°Oi, he¡¯s awake!¡± he shouted, startling me and drawing the attention of the room. I tried to sit up, wincing at the stiffness in my back. Around me, the ward was bustling with life¡ªif you could call it that. Fourteen beds lined the room, occupied by patients with injuries that should have been deadly but somehow weren¡¯t. A group of men covered in full-body burns were chatting happily like old friends. In another bed, a man played solitaire with three arrows sticking out of his chest, utterly unfazed. ¡°That¡¯s the nuns¡¯ doing,¡± a familiar voice said. I whipped my head around and saw Sharla sitting up in a bed across from mine, her broad smile instantly warming me. She waved, and I noticed a line down the middle of her arm. As she shook it, the seam pulled apart slightly, revealing a flash of muscle and bone before snapping shut. I cringed. ¡°Whoops,¡± she said, smirking. ¡°Sharla¡­ what are you doing here?¡± I managed after a few seconds. She shrugged. ¡°Could ask you the same thing.¡±
We talked for what felt like hours, catching up until the nuns arrived to serve dinner. The nuns were completely covered¡ªrobes obscuring their faces, legs, and arms. Even their hands were hidden by gloves that were pristine white, making them seem otherworldly as they moved silently through the ward. They handed each of us a neatly packed cardboard box containing our meals. Sharla and I puzzled over how to open them, eventually figuring it out with some trial and error. She showed me how it worked, grinning like we were kids opening Happy Meals. ¡°Man, that¡¯s messed up,¡± Sharla said between bites of her sandwich, which looked like ham and cheese. ¡°Your own family threw you under the bus.¡± I nudged aside a platter of exotic-looking fruits in my box, opting for the sandwich as well. ¡°I can¡¯t believe Tyler voted for you,¡± I said, shaking my head. ¡°I knew he could be a little shit sometimes, but I didn¡¯t think he¡¯d go that far.¡± Sharla shrugged, proceeding to explained how she, Tyler, and eleven others had been trapped in a group chat and forced to vote for someone to be submitted to ''The Tithe.'' They only had five minutes, and if they didn¡¯t choose, the system would pick at random. ¡°I read all the tool-tips during selection,¡± Sharla said, wiping crumbs from her lips. ¡°It¡¯s a system of elimination. The tithe groups people together, and everyone has to vote someone in. If enough people pick the same person, they¡¯re sent here.¡± ¡°And what happens here?¡± I asked, taking a cautious bite of my sandwich. She leaned back, chewing thoughtfully. ¡°This is where the real game starts. Survive, complete quests, and¡ªif you¡¯re lucky¡ªyou win. Money, fame, a ticket home to Earth.¡± ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± She raised an eyebrow. ¡°We¡¯re not exactly in a position to complain.¡± She wasn¡¯t wrong. Sitting there with Sharla was surreal. She was 37, of Tongan and Japanese descent, and her life had been shaped by challenges. Losing her father at a young age¡ªa man who had served with honour in the military¡ªhad cast a long shadow over her family. His absence wasn¡¯t just felt in the quiet, empty chair at the dinner table but in the profound loss of their guiding presence. Her mother, faced with the daunting task of raising a child alone, made the difficult choice to stay in Australia. It was a decision rooted in love and sacrifice, ensuring Sharla could finish her education and build a future in a place her father had hoped would offer stability and opportunity. She lay in bed, wearing a white crop top that revealed a hint of a bra strap slipping out from under the neckline. The dark waistband of her pants peeked above the edge of the thick blankets that draped over her legs, cocooning her against the chill. There was a calm about her now, a stillness that belied the strength forged through years of enduring and overcoming. Sharla had gone on to become a doctor, she had volunteered for Doctors Without Borders right out of medical school then moving into public health before pivoting to medicinal cannabis, which she described as ¡°a lot more chill.¡± She was taller than me by almost a full head, her imposing frame the product of years spent weightlifting and practising HEMA¡ªHistorical European Martial Arts. She¡¯d explained to me and Tyler once how she loved donning armour and hitting people with a blunted battleaxe, her laughter ringing out as she described the bruises she¡¯d earned. Her dark, shiny hair, usually tied back in a bun, now fell in loose ringlets around her broad face. Her features were striking: a wide, flat nose, full lips, and freckles like ink splattered across the bridge of her nose and under her narrow eyes. ¡°Why do the capybaras have Australian accents?¡± I asked, snapping out of my thoughts. She grinned slightly. ¡°You know, I haven¡¯t thought of it.¡± Sharla had finished her sandwich, sitting quietly now, staring at her hand. The cut that bifurcated her arm up to the elbow had mostly healed, leaving behind an angry red line. She rubbed at it absently, her fingers tracing the scar like it was a habit she hadn¡¯t yet realized she¡¯d formed. ¡°You¡¯re really lucky to be alive, you know,¡± she said finally, not looking up. Her voice was soft but carried a weight that made my chest tighten. ¡°We had a group go out right after the tutorial, thinking they¡¯d rack up experience before everyone else. None of them came back.¡± She exhaled slowly, shaking her head. ¡°When I went out, I ran into these fucked-up green things. They jumped me. It could have gotten ugly if some players hadn¡¯t shown up and taken them out.¡± Her breath hitched, and she forced a smile onto her face, the kind that didn¡¯t reach her eyes. The room fell silent, save for the occasional murmurs of other patients and the soft footsteps of nuns moving between beds. Sharla had walked me through a few basics before turning in, showing me how to better manage my inventory and mentioning a building in town where I could learn more about my interface. Her explanations were calm and methodical, but her words carried a brittle edge, as though she was forcing herself to focus on something practical. When she rolled over to sleep, I stayed awake, staring at the ceiling. The weight of everything she¡¯d said pressed down on me. At some point, I heard a muffled sob from her bed. I didn¡¯t say anything. Instead, I curled into a ball, pulled the covers over my head, and waited for sleep to take me.
The next morning, I woke up feeling completely healed. Flexing my arm, I noted with some amazement that the wolf¡¯s bite had left only the faintest outline of scars. The dull ache that had haunted me the day before was gone, replaced by a sense of newfound vigour. Sharla¡¯s bed was curtained off, and I could hear faint grunts of pain mixed with the murmured reassurances of the nuns. Their silhouettes moved behind the curtain, their robed forms helping Sharla with something I couldn¡¯t see. On the table beside my bed, my clothes were freshly laundered and neatly folded. I pulled the curtain around my bed closed and dressed quickly. My ring remained on my finger, a subtle reminder of the bizarre circumstances that had brought me here. I hopped up and secured my backpack to my back, its contents were untouched. As I finished dressing, I called out, ¡°I¡¯m going to head off and find that tutorial place you mentioned.¡± ¡°Huh? Oh, yeah, sure,¡± Sharla replied, distracted. ¡°I¡¯m going to be a while anyway. Don¡¯t leave town without me. If I¡¯m not here when you get back, I¡¯ll be at the Bottomless Pit¡ªit¡¯s a pub. Just ask around if you have trouble finding it.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m not going back out there if I can avoid it. See you later,¡± I said, stepping out into the hallway. Sitting in that room had become too much. The sight of people with horrific injuries casually going about their day, seemingly unbothered, had been unsettling¡ªlike something out of a Hellraiser movie. As I left, the sharp tang of vinegar hit my nose. The scent was strangely nostalgic, reminding me of Sunday mornings when Mum used to clean the windows with it, the smell used to linger throughout the house for hours. I followed the signs pointing to the exit. The walls were plastered but unevenly applied, their surface rough and bumpy. Wooden skirting ran along the bottom third, with vertical strips forming a repeating pattern of long rectangles. The hospital, I realized as I stepped outside, was attached to a massive church. Peering through the doors I could see the interior; its architecture looked straight out of the 15th century¡ªgrand arches, towering spires, and intricate stonework¡ªbut the stone itself showed no signs of weathering. It was pristine, as though it had been built yesterday. In the church¡¯s vestibule, stained glass windows depicted nuns in black robes praying over wounded creatures on battlefields. The images were haunting and beautiful, the sunlight streaming through the glass casting vibrant colours onto the polished stone floor. The space felt impossibly vast, the domed roof amplifying its grandeur. The floor beneath my feet was a speckled stone that reflected the light in patches, resembling a piece of polished granite. As I stepped toward the exit, my eyes caught an intricate swirling pattern etched along the doorway. The design twisted and turned without breaking, encompassing the entire frame. I paused, letting my eyes follow the pattern, feeling an odd sense of calm wash over me. Then, taking a deep breath, I stepped out into the settlement. Two large sandstone steps led me down to a bustling cobblestone street. The ground was filthy, coated in a slurry of mud, leaves, straw, a dark stinking liquid, and the occasional vagrant huddled in an alleyway. The street was alive with activity, lined with merchants under makeshift lean-tos made of burlap stretched across crude wooden frames. Not all of them were human. My eyes caught on a goblin dressed in a top hat and vest, waving a walking stick over an assortment of brightly coloured bottled liquids. A sign hung crookedly from the bench the goblin perched on: Nobblehob¡¯s Fantastic Brews The text was written first in English, then in hieroglyph-like scrawls that I vaguely recognized as Goblin script¡ªchildlike and jagged, yet oddly expressive. The goblin spotted me and smiled, revealing a chaotic jumble of mismatched teeth. I recoiled and hurried my pace down the thoroughfare, muttering a nervous, ¡°Nope, nope, nope,¡± under my breath. The street seemed endless, offering an overwhelming array of stores and stalls. Weapon vendors displayed racks of swords and maces; potion makers hawked bubbling elixirs; tailors showed off racks of armour, robes, and cloaks. Some merchants operated shanty stalls set up outside their homes, while others worked out of more established shops with elaborate displays in wide windows. Mannequins dressed in dazzling enchanted gear stood under ornately painted signs, each accompanied by a brief description of the wares and a visual demonstration of their use.
BA-DING. Achievement: Window Shopper. Description: You¡¯ve frustrated more than 10 vendors by hovering uselessly around their stalls, pretending to have enough money to buy something. Nice job hiding the smell of ''poor.'' Reward: Tin Panhandler¡¯s Cup. jingle jingle
The sudden notification sound startled me, as always. It was becoming less amusing by the minute. I grimaced and dismissed it, annoyed that these pop-ups weren¡¯t just obnoxious but potentially life-threatening. If one of these appeared in the middle of a fight, it would blind me for the seconds it took to dismiss. As my stomach growled, I pulled out the remainder of my Mornin¡¯ Hun ration pack and ate the still-fresh cake, washing it down with the rest of my water. I¡¯d skipped the nuns¡¯ purple-tinged porridge earlier¡ªit had a look that set off every alarm in my head¡ªand I wasn¡¯t about to risk it now. The settlement had a distinctly medieval fantasy vibe, like it had been pulled straight out of a video game. The residents wore era-appropriate garb, making the players easy to spot. All of us had been taken at about 1:05 AM on Christmas morning back in Australia. The result was an eclectic mix of pyjamas, fancy dress outfits, and loungewear. Some players roamed in large, nervous groups, clinging together in the crowded streets. Others had already started adapting, carrying themselves with an uneasy confidence. One man caught my attention. He wore khaki cargo pants, army boots, and a tank top, with a massive sword strapped to his back. He stood in front of a group of teenagers dressed in various Christmas-themed outfits, including one with a shirt that read "I¡¯m a Ho, Ho, Ho" under a winking pinup of Mrs. Claus. I shook my head and kept moving. Finding the tutorial building was easy. It sat prominently at a T-intersection where the main street split into two narrower roads. A towering rodent guard stood by the entrance, its darker fur patching over one eye giving it a slightly rakish appearance. As I approached, that familiar wave of calm washed over me, and I let out an involuntary sigh. The guard regarded me impassively as I climbed the wide, fluted steps.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. The building itself was impressive, constructed of roughly hewn stone without any visible mortar. Its imposing oak door, reinforced with iron bands and heavy rivets, was propped open with a large stone. The scent of books and parchment wafted out, comforting and nostalgic. Inside, the space opened into a high-ceilinged room with a large semicircular desk positioned against the far wall, facing the entrance. Behind the desk stood a diminutive woman, scaled to about a quarter of an average human¡¯s size. Her proportions were perfect, like a masterfully crafted doll. Her hair flowed in long, liquid-like pigtails of very light blonde, streaked with hints of grey, cascading down her back and disappearing behind the desk. She wore a crisp white button-up shirt, accessorized with simple gold earrings that glinted in the light. Perched on her small, angular nose were tiny, squared glasses, and her face was framed by fine wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. Her expression was one of perpetual disapproval, her mouth set in a grim line as she sorted through an impressive stack of papers. To either side of the room were open doorways leading into various chambers that hinted at the scope of the guild''s operations. One room resembled an auditorium, its rows of seats arranged to focus on a central stage. Another was a sprawling library, filled with towering shelves and rolling ladders. Further down, I caught glimpses of what appeared to be a combination laboratory and firing range¡ªits walls scorched with burn marks faintly smoking. The final space was a macabre trophy room, lined with the preserved heads of monstrous creatures mounted like hunting prizes. Smaller specimens were displayed in scientific cases, each labelled meticulously with diagrams explaining their anatomy in unnerving detail. I hesitated, taking it all in, before making my way to the desk. The diminutive woman behind it spoke without lifting her eyes from her work. ¡°Welcome to the Adventurers Guild. May I have your membership number?¡± A transparent screen and keyboard materialized above the desk, floating a few inches in the air and tilting slightly as she moved, always staying just within her peripheral vision. ¡°Uh¡­ I don¡¯t have one?¡± I said, my voice trailing off. She finally looked up at me¡ªor rather, at the space above my head¡ªand raised an eyebrow. Her expression shifted from bored to mildly irritated. ¡°A straggler, huh? Fill out a registration form and head into Lecture Hall A for induction,¡± she said, handing me a sheet of parchment with a flick of her wrist. I took it gingerly, noting its weight. The parchment was thick, textured, and printed in a "medieval" calligraphy font that was a little too on-the-nose. It felt like a job application for a Renaissance fair.
Name: Age: Species: Height: Weight: Class Preference:
I frowned at the final field, ¡°Class Preference,¡± and looked up to ask. She pre-empted me, speaking in a rehearsed tone. ¡°Leave that one blank. You¡¯ll fill it out after your induction.¡± I nodded and turned my attention back to the form. As I stared, black ink began filling in most of the fields automatically. My age, height, weight, and even "species" (which I was relieved to see still said "human") appeared, leaving only the name and class preference fields blank. I blinked and looked around for a pen¡ªor a quill, given the aesthetic¡ªbut saw none. ¡°Uh, do you have a pe¡ª?¡± She sighed, her exasperation practically radiating off her tiny frame. ¡°Use your interface to focus on the field you wish to write in and spell out the word. If you¡¯re struggling, say the letters aloud until you get the hang of it.¡± I tried it, focusing on the name field and spelling out ¡°Ryan¡± in my head. I always used nonsense names during character creation¡ªsomething like "Dangerous Chips" or "Mysterious Cheddar"¡ªbut this time it didn¡¯t feel right. The notification came instantly.
BA-DING Achievement: I Have a Name, You Know! Description: You have successfully registered yourself at the Adventuring Guild and chosen a name. Hope you didn¡¯t pick anything lame¡ªyou can¡¯t change it later, you know. Reward: 1 ¡°Hello, my name is: ¡®Ryan¡¯¡± sticker.
I pulled the sticker out of my inventory and examined it. Written in thick, cheerful red marker was my name, encircled by a blue border. The adhesive on the back felt like a post-it note. Shrugging, I awkwardly stuck it to my hoodie. It clung there like an embarrassing name tag at a corporate mixer. Satisfied, I looked back up, only to meet the woman¡¯s openly hostile glare. ¡°You can leave now,¡± she snapped, waving me off toward one of the auditorium doors. Before I could move, that familiar smooth voice purred in my mind, dripping with patronising cheer.
BA-DING New Quest! Back to School. Description: I am so proud of you! Not only did you make it to the settlement, but you proved you have an ounce of initiative by making it to the Adventurer¡¯s Guild and beginning your induction course. Complete your induction lecture and get a class assigned! Options are limited, so act fast¡ªunless you want to be stuck as the party¡¯s heal-bitch. Reward: 1 Interface Induction Certification Pack.
I walked over to the room labelled ''Induction'' and pushed the door open. As I stepped into the room, I was struck by its unusual design. It sloped downward, divided into large, stepped platforms that created a natural descent from the entrance, which was positioned at the very top. Long wooden pews lined each step, offering seating for visitors. Their polished surfaces reflected the dim light. Along the wall to my left, a wide staircase descended in measured intervals, leading directly to the centre of attention¡ªa raised octagonal stage. The stage itself was an intriguing sight. Three imposing blackboards loomed behind a central wooden lectern, their dark surfaces waiting to be filled with chalky wisdom. The lectern, polished and worn with age, stood as a focal point in the otherwise sombre space. For a moment, I stood frozen, taking in the stillness. The room was utterly silent, and I realised I was alone. Unsure of what to do, I chose a pew near the entrance and sat down. My footsteps and the creak of the wooden bench echoing faintly in the emptiness. No sooner had I settled than a figure appeared behind the lectern. It was a short, stout man who exuded an air of quiet authority. His dark copper beard was long and meticulously braided into a single thick plait that hung down over his chest, its strands glinting faintly in the dim light. His hair, the same deep copper hue, was neatly combed back, giving him a polished and deliberate appearance. Despite the weariness suggested by the heavy bags under his eyes, his eyes was strikingly youthful, sharp and bright as though they belonged to someone much younger. He stood atop a stepping stool. The extra height barely allowing him to peer over the lectern. His sturdy frame and well-kept attire, a simple yet impeccably tailored robe of deep forest green with bronze accents, gave him a dignified presence. Before him lay a massive tome, its yellowed pages crinkled with age. His fingers, strong and slightly calloused, rested lightly on the open book, as though he had paused mid-study to address the room. With deliberate care, the dwarf lifted his head. His sharp eyes locking onto mine for a moment before surveying the empty space. Then, he cleared his throat, a deep, resonant sound that echoed through the hall, amplified as though carried by an invisible speaker system. The reverberation lingered in the stillness, commanding attention. "So, you have been chosen for The Tithe and have made your way to our little slice of paradise, on that I congratulate you. We do try and make it as straight forward as possible but we seem to lose a chunk of people at the start of each new intake. You may have already been acquainted with the locals on your way here but if you haven''t don''t worry, we''ll get into that shortly." What proceeded was a dry lecture on the various factions, monsters and dangers that were in the woods surrounding the settlement. Illustrations magically drew themselves on the blackboards and depicted the settlement placed in the intersection of four roads that cut through the otherwise uninterrupted forest. Each road was labelled simply north, south, east and west. Sharla had mentioned that I arrived at the southern gate, I found myself wishing I had a notepad to transcribe the information and helpfully a new window appeared where I could mentally type.
BA-DING Achievement: Book worm Description: You have located the scratchpad and have successfully created a new note. Trust a nerd like you to worry about stationery in a place like this. Reward: 1 pocket protector
I frustratingly waved the notification away and raised my hand. To my surprise the man on stage promptly stopped his explanation of the different types of plants commonly found along the pathways and addressed me, consulting his tome quickly before doing so. "Yes, uh, Ryan, how can I be of service?" he said, his deep voice clear and calm. "When do we learn how to use the interface? I''m really starting to get annoyed with the notifications," I said. A feeling of familiar embarrassment washed over me as my voice came out much louder than I had expected. In school I rarely drew attention to myself, preferring to stay as unnoticeable as possible. Here however, I felt the urgent need for information overcome the anxiety that normally caused me to shy away. ¡°That specific module will be discussed after we¡¯ve covered the material on flora,¡± the dwarf said, his tone clipped and matter-of-fact. ¡°We¡¯re about halfway through, so please be patient. If you¡¯re unable to wait, I suggest you occupy yourself with the compendium.¡± He waved a hand, and a new window filled my vision. The interface was similar to my personal storage but tailored for information rather than items. Each line item was a title of an entry, and above the list was a search bar. I pressed on the search field and typed notifications. The list filtered itself, leaving behind a single heading titled "Interface" with a subheading "Notifications."
Compendium Interface
I clicked the subheading, and a tooltip appeared.
Info - Notifications These helpful little morsels are used to communicate important information to our valued players. They can contain quest details, achievements, unread messages, party invitations, and much more. They¡¯ve been stylized to be as familiar as possible to our players. To change their sound or appearance, please visit the customization menu under settings.
The word customization was underlined with pulsating dots. When I focused on it, another window titled Options opened, navigating directly to the customization area. I scanned the menu, spotting an option labelled Deliver notifications minimized. I clicked it, and the square to the right filled in, indicating it was now enabled. At the bottom of the menu were two buttons: Test and Save. Curious, I pressed Test. A slight buzz behind my eyes followed, and a green icon with a (1) flashed in the bottom-right corner of my vision. Clicking it revealed a notification:
BA-DING This is a test notification.
The text faded after five seconds, closing automatically. Satisfied, I hit Save, feeling another soft buzz. Another notification immediately appeared as an inconspicuous box that I opened:
BA-DING Achievement: I''m not picky, I''m particular. Description: You have successfully customized your interface for the first time. Is what we put together not good enough for you? Reward: You feel a fleeting sense of agency.
I dismissed it, a sense of satisfaction washing over me. I spent a few more minutes tweaking the layout, settling on a design where notifications appeared at 20% opacity and auto-closed after two seconds unless focused on. My scratchpad, notification history, and compendium were now easily accessible. While exploring, I was reminded of the reward that had been held until after registration. Returning my attention to the lecture, I dutifully entered notes in my scratchpad. However, I quickly realized the compendium contained identical information, albeit without the dwarf''s flowery embellishments. My focus waned until the lecture concluded with an overview of guilds, job bookers, and community boards¡ªthe lifeblood of quests and information for adventurers. ¡°Now,¡± the dwarf said, closing his tome with a sharp ¡®thud¡¯, ¡°proceed to the class selection area in an orderly fashion. You¡¯ll find it in the room opposite this auditorium. Any disruptions will result in an immediate suspension of your privileges.¡± A notification appeared as I stood, and I opened it. My induction reward had been delivered: a coupon for a class called Safety Inspector. Frowning, I examined it. The title was as unremarkable as it was baffling. What kind of adventurer chose Safety Inspector? Shrugging, I walked into the room marked Class Selection. A cardboard sign hung crookedly on the door. Inside was a space that resembled a gymnasium. Wooden dummies lined one wall, practice weapons were stored in neatly organized racks, and targets dangled from the ceiling like forgotten decorations. At the back of the room, a booth was manned by a bored-looking dwarf with sandy blond hair and an unruly beard. Their drab blue robes were streaked with chalky stains, and their posture screamed disinterest. When our eyes met, however, they bolted upright, hastily wiping their hands on their robes as though caught slacking. "Hi! Er, I mean, welcome, player!" the dwarf stammered, their voice cracking slightly as they attempted a friendly greeting. "I hope I can help you today. No, wait¡ªhow can I help you today?" They smiled nervously, their confidence teetering on the edge of collapse. "Yeah, I¡¯m here to pick my class? I didn¡¯t fill out a preference yet. Is that... a problem?" I said, trying to keep my tone casual. The dwarf glanced down at the table in front of them, then back up, their expression suddenly shifting to an exaggerated air of confidence. "Worry not, player! Uh, I¡¯m sure there¡¯s a class that is perfect for you!" They kept glancing down, as if consulting something out of view. As I approached the booth, I noticed an A4-sized piece of parchment with blocky, handwritten notes that I couldn¡¯t quite read. The dwarf waved their hand, summoning a floating screen to their side. They scanned the list, a bead of sweat forming on their brow. "Now, uh, I hope you understand," they began, hesitating slightly, "that you were, um, quite late for the induction. So... there, uh, isn¡¯t that much to choose from." I frowned. "How can you run out of class options?" The question seemed to catch the attendant off guard. Their brow furrowed as they looked down at the parchment again, tracing a finger along a flowchart. After a brief pause, they ducked under the counter and emerged with a small, plain wooden box filled with stacks of cue cards bound with twine. Consulting the cheat sheet, they shuffled through the cards and picked out a small pile, squinting at the top one before speaking. "Great question!" they said, clearly stalling for time. "Class options are, uh, more like a license issued by the adventurers¡¯ gu¡ªuh, guild." They smiled awkwardly, cleared their throat, and straightened up. Their tone shifted to something more formal, reciting from the cards. "Being a holder of one of these licenses provides players access to the skills, spells, and abilities associated with that class. While in possession of a license, you can gain experience in these skills. Mastering them allows for prestige in a class, unlocking even more powerful skills, spells, and abilities. Changing or revoking a license prevents further experience gain in those skills but doesn¡¯t erase what you¡¯ve already learned. Be aware that mastering certain skills may block progress in others, so choose wisely." They paused, glancing down at their cheat sheet again, before continuing. "If you wish to change your class, our friendly staff at the front desk can assist¡ªfor a small fee." They looked up, their expression caught between hopeful and unsure, as if waiting for approval. "Right... good to know," I said, letting my voice trail off. But before they could continue, a question struck me. "Why would someone have their license revoked? Do we, uh, work for you or something?" The dwarf¡¯s eyes widened, darting around the room as if searching for help. They fidgeted with the queue cards before pulling out another stack, their fingers trembling slightly. "I, uh, I¡¯m sorry," they blurted, their voice dropping to a whisper. "I¡¯m covering for my brother. I¡¯m not really supposed to be here, and if Hailey finds out, I¡¯m toast." I hesitated, suddenly feeling guilty for bombarding them with questions. "It¡¯s all good, my guy. You¡¯re doing great," I said, attempting to sound reassuring. Their face lit up with a pitiful, grateful smile before they continued, nervously reading from the cards. "While players aren¡¯t technically staff, they do operate on behalf of the guild. Players are expected to conduct themselves in accordance with the guild¡¯s mission and uphold its public image. Failing to do so may result in license revocation, suspension, or even expulsion from the guild. Additionally, failure to meet the set quest quota can result in punitive action, including class revocation, suspension of guild membership, or mandatory quest assignment." I blinked, trying to process the information. "Is there, like, a pamphlet or something for this? Because I¡¯m pretty sure I missed half of that." "You know what, never mind. Can you just tell me what classes you have left?" I said, cutting off the dwarf before they could start fumbling through another stack of cards. Relief washed over them like a wave, and they exhaled as though they¡¯d been holding their breath since I arrived. "Of course!" they said, their enthusiasm tempered by lingering anxiety. They pulled out another set of cards and began going over the available classes. The first was a healer. The second? Another healer. By the third variation¡ªsomething called a Rejuvenation Specialist¡ªI felt my patience waning. I didn¡¯t have anything against healers. In fact, I¡¯d played the role plenty of times in D&D campaigns, World of Warcraft, and even EverQuest. But the thought of being branded a "heal bitch" by the quest voice was... unappealing, to say the least. The dwarf was halfway through describing a glyph-based support class when I decided I¡¯d had enough. "Sorry to interrupt, but can I use this instead?" I said, pulling out the coupon for the Safety Inspector class and holding it up for the dwarf to see. Their eyes widened as though I¡¯d just handed them a cursed artifact. They began frantically flipping through their cheat sheet, their lips moving soundlessly as they tried to piece together a response. I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck. "Look, I¡¯m sorry to be a pain, but... can I still sign up for the guild if I don¡¯t pick a class right now?" I asked, holding my hands up in a gesture of surrender. The dwarf stopped flipping through the cards and smiled at me, visibly relieved. "Yup! You sure can. Just head back to the front desk, and they¡¯ll get you sorted." I nodded my thanks and made my way back to the front of the building. The woman who had originally greeted me had been replaced by a young Asian man, likely in his early twenties. He looked up from the desk as I approached, his clean white shirt crisp and unwrinkled compared to the frazzled dwarf¡¯s robes. His short, jet-black hair was neatly combed, and his expression was far more welcoming than his predecessor¡¯s. "Hi, how can I help you?" he asked, his voice calm and professional. "Hey, I was told I could sign up for the guild even if I don¡¯t pick a class right away," I said. "Absolutely!" he replied, reaching beneath the counter and producing a trifold pamphlet the size of a dinner menu. He handed it to me with a practiced smile. "Here¡¯s everything you need to know about joining the guild. If you choose to register without a class, we¡¯ll contact you as soon as one of your preferences¡ªor a similar one¡ªbecomes available." He paused, scanning my face before adding, "There is a one-time registration fee of 100 Crowns, though. You¡¯ll also need to pay a small stipend for class reservation." My stomach sank. "Yeah, about that... I don¡¯t have any money right now." The man¡¯s smile didn¡¯t falter, though there was a hint of pity in his eyes. "That¡¯s not uncommon for new arrivals," he said kindly. "I¡¯d recommend taking on a few guild-sponsored odd jobs. They¡¯re posted on the community boards around town. Once you¡¯ve earned enough, come back, and we¡¯ll get you registered." "Right. Thanks," I said, tucking the pamphlet into my backpack and heading for the door. The street outside felt a little colder as I stepped back into the chaos of the settlement. I hadn¡¯t even officially joined the guild, and I was already broke and directionless. Chapter 5 I returned to the hospital, but Sharla had already left. After some quick inquiries, one of the patients¡ªa man with an axe embedded in his leg¡ªtold me that the bar she¡¯d mentioned was nearby, down an alley off the main street. Following his directions, I found what looked like a hole-in-the-wall tavern. Stepping inside, I was surprised by the sheer size of the place. The bar opened up into a sprawling two-tiered establishment, with wooden balustrades encircling the upper floor that overlooked the bottom. The entrance led straight to a well-stocked bar flanked by staircases on either side. I counted fifteen tables scattered across the room and a half-dozen cozy booths lining the walls. The air buzzed with the chatter of patrons, the clink of mugs, and the lively strains of a violin played by a man near the corner. He had an open case at his feet with a small pile of coins inside. A massive open woodfire oven, its red bricks glowing warmly, sat behind the bar. Shelves stocked with bottles of brightly coloured liquids framed the oven on both sides. The bartender, a muscular Quokka-headed man, leaned casually against the counter, smiling as he chatted with a patron. He radiated warmth and confidence. At a table off to the side, I spotted Sharla. She was deep in conversation with a man who looked like he could have walked off the set of a military drama. He wore khaki cargo pants, army boots, and a tank top, his blond hair cropped short. His weathered skin and deep tan spoke of long days spent under the sun. As I entered, the man spotted me first, pointing in my direction. Sharla turned, smiling as she waved me over. She kicked out a chair with her boot. ¡°Ah, Ryan! Did you have any issues with registration?¡± she asked as I approached. ¡°Sort of,¡± I said, pulling out the chair and sitting down. ¡°I¡¯ll talk to you about it later.¡± The man smiled at me, revealing teeth stained with smoke and coffee. His face was deeply lined, his leathery skin making him look older than he probably was. He extended a hand, his nails chipped and streaked with dried blood. ¡°G¡¯day. Name¡¯s Tim. Sharla¡¯s been talking my ear off about you,¡± he said, clasping my hand in a firm, brisk shake. His grip was calloused and strong. After releasing my hand, he drained his drink in a single gulp, flipped the empty mug upside down on the table, and stood. ¡°I¡¯ll leave you two to chat. Gotta hit the head,¡± he said, heading toward a door on the opposite side of the bar. Sharla looked like she wanted to say something but stopped herself, letting him go. ¡°He seems nice,¡± I said, turning back to her. ¡°He¡¯s not bad, honestly,¡± she replied, though her tone carried a weight that her words didn¡¯t. ¡°He¡¯s part of a group I hooked up with on the first day. Saved my life.¡± The bluntness of her statement caught me off guard. We¡¯d talked for hours yesterday, but she hadn¡¯t mentioned anything about almost dying. She¡¯d glossed over a close call with goblins, quickly changing the subject when I brought it up later. Now, she was staring into her drink, her fingers absently rubbing her leg. ¡°What happened?¡± I asked, concern creeping into my voice. Sharla hesitated before rolling up the leg of her pants. Instead of the dark skin I¡¯d expected, there was a prosthetic made of polished wood inlaid with bronze accents. The bronze was etched with angular, intricate patterns that reminded me of the induction speaker¡¯s robe. The prosthetic began just below her knee, attached by a bronze ring embedded with softly glowing green crystals. ¡°We were ambushed,¡± she said, her voice heavy. ¡°Tim and his group were the ones that fended off the goblin, I joined their group on the spot, they were on a quest to capture a goblin. Tim had what sounded like a solid plan. We had a good mix of people, and they figured my class made me the best option to tank the front line. Problem is, none of us had any trap detection skills. I stepped into a goblin bear trap¡ªit clamped down on my leg and chained me to a tree.¡± She sighed, lifting her drink but pausing before taking a sip. ¡°The goblins came out of nowhere. One of them got on top of me. I caught its sword with my hand¡ªhow I got this,¡± she said, raising her arm to show me the faint pink line from the previous day¡¯s injury. ¡°Tim managed to kill it, but we didn¡¯t have time to get the trap off. They couldn¡¯t cut the chain, and I was holding them up. I told him to cut it off.¡± Her voice wavered slightly, but she pushed on. ¡°So he did. Took my leg at the knee. It was the only way I was getting out of there alive.¡± I stared at her, stunned. ¡°I got an achievement for it,¡± she added, forcing a wry smile. ¡°Apparently, getting your leg cut off by a party member on Day One is something worth celebrating. The reward was a coupon for this bad boy,¡± she said, slapping the prosthetic. It gave a hollow clang. "I''m sorry, that is seriously messed up. Are you doing alright?" I asked, my eyes still fixed on the intricate prosthetic. The metal panels flexed and moved seamlessly, mimicking the motions of a real leg. It was mesmerizing in a strangely unsettling way. Sharla leaned back in her chair, taking a long pull from her drink. "Honestly? Yeah. If you¡¯d asked me yesterday, I probably would¡¯ve been crying by now. But now... I dunno. I think it¡¯s pretty slick." She lifted her foot and placed it on the table, flexing the heel. The device responded effortlessly, showcasing its craftsmanship. "The nuns said I¡¯ll start feeling things as if it¡¯s my real leg in a few days. And balancing on it is easier than anything back on Earth." She swung her leg back to the floor with a soft ¡®clink¡¯. "Thirsty?" she asked, catching the eye of the grey-furred Quokka-headed bartender. "Uh, yeah, kinda," I admitted, my gaze drifting to the mug in her hand. Then I hesitated, tapping my fingers nervously on the table. "But... that¡¯s kinda the problem. I¡¯m broke." She blinked at me in confusion. "I¡¯ll shout you. But... why did you have to pay? They gave me money¡ªlike fifty of these coins." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a polished greenish coin, holding it up between her fingers. Deep lines divided the coin into four segments, as though it could be broken apart. Both sides were embossed with a regal crown. I sighed, explaining what had happened at the guild. I chose to leave out the detail about the coupon for now, wanting to wait until we were somewhere more private. As I spoke, the bartender brought over two mugs filled with a frothy white liquid. The drink had the consistency of eggnog and smelled of spiced rum and vanilla. Wisps of steam curled from the surface, enticing me. Hesitantly, I took a sip. It was creamy and rich, with a taste that reminded me of a hot milkshake. The warmth spread through my chest, settling into my stomach like a comforting fire. Sharla folded her arms across her chest and regarded me thoughtfully. "Tim¡¯s not going to let you in if you don¡¯t have a class," she said after a moment. "I¡¯m not even sure you could team up with us. Did you finish the induction quest at least?" I sighed again. "Nope. Still sitting there, unfinished. It doesn¡¯t have a timer or anything, so I guess it¡¯s just stuck there until I figure something out." She frowned. "That¡¯s... weird. I was going to suggest you take a healer class. Tim¡¯s been saying we could use another support role. Did you consider it?" I shrugged. "I was going to look around for a job, maybe check in with the guild again to see if anything better comes up."The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. A thought struck me, something I hadn¡¯t noticed until now. "Hey, weird question... but have you needed to go to the toilet since you got here?" I asked, lowering my voice in embarrassment. Sharla grinned, leaning in conspiratorially. "Nope. Not unless I drink these." She gestured at her mug. "Everything else just... disappears or something. But if you down enough of this, you¡¯ll definitely need to go." "Huh," I muttered. Whoever or whatever designed this place had a bizarre sense of convenience. Sharla tried to convince me again to take a healer class, explaining that Tim and Oliver, another party member, were both DPS, opting for a short sword and daggers respectfully, Rachel was a mage focused on buffs, and Michael was already a dedicated healer. "We¡¯ve got a good group," she said, "but Tim¡¯s adamant about needing someone who can spot traps." Tim returned from the bathroom, giving us both a quick nod. "I¡¯ve got to meet up with the others," he said, his voice gruff. "Nice to meet you, Ryan." He turned and left with a short wave, but not before exchanging a subtle look with Sharla. She shook her head slightly, answering a question he hadn¡¯t asked aloud. As he disappeared, Sharla leaned toward me. "He asked me to find out what class you were." I grimaced. "Well, that¡¯s awkward." Sharla downed the last of her drink and stood, wobbling slightly. "I¡¯ve had too many of these things. I need to walk it off. Wait here," she said, heading toward the restroom. Left alone, I scanned the room. The tavern bustled with life. Groups moved from table to table, some sharing animated conversations, others breaking into arguments. At one booth, a group seemed to be debating heatedly. A woman with short brown hair gestured wildly, her voice rising above the din. "They¡¯re forming parties," I murmured to myself, watching as people huddled together, exchanging whispered plans. Sharla returned a few minutes later, her expression slightly more serious. She slid back into her seat and placed her hands flat on the table. "Alright," she said. "What¡¯s the plan?" I stood and followed Sharla outside. As we walked through the bustling streets, she shared her idea. "There¡¯s this trader I met yesterday before we headed out. He offered to buy whatever loot I came across. I didn¡¯t have anything to sell after, well¡­ you know. But we can see if what you¡¯ve got is worth anything." We wove through the North side of town, down a side street where the noise of the main thoroughfare began to fade. Eventually, we stopped in front of a house with a large open window. A makeshift stall had been set up there, cluttered with oddities and trinkets¡ªeverything from polished bones to vials of unknown liquids. Sitting behind the counter, nestled into a well-worn chair, was an elderly man of the same diminutive race as the guild receptionist. The trader had a large, bulbous nose that dominated his face, sitting just above pale, slightly cracked lips. His unkempt stubble was a patchwork of grey, and his bald head was surrounded by a strip of thin, wiry hair that hung limply at the sides. He wore a paisley vest, faded and heavily stained, over a once-white shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Despite his dishevelled appearance, his sharp eyes twinkled with an astuteness that belied his age. ¡°Hey, Zilph,¡± Sharla called cheerfully as we approached. She placed a hand on my back and gave a gentle push, nudging me toward the counter. ¡°My friend here¡¯s got some stuff he¡¯s looking to sell. Mind taking a look?¡± I hesitated for a moment before stepping up to the stall. ¡°Uh, so how does this work?¡± I asked, glancing at the assortment of wares and then at the old man. Zilph grinned, his raspy voice carrying a thick accent that made him sound like a retired British headmaster. ¡°I¡¯ll give you a fair price, don¡¯t you worry.¡± He waved a hand, and two translucent screens appeared. One hovered next to him, while the other materialized beside me. At the same time, my Personal Storage opened in my interface, displaying my inventory. Each item now had a small checkbox beside it, and a new button labelled Offer sat at the bottom of the list, though it was currently greyed out. I glanced back at Sharla, who gave me an encouraging nod. I selected the wolf meat and pelt, and the Offer button became active. I pressed it. Zilph leaned forward, his sharp eyes glinting with interest as he examined the list. ¡°Not bad, not bad. You don¡¯t happen to have the heart, do you?¡± he asked, looking up at me with an inquisitive expression. I shook my head. ¡°Sorry, I had to leave it behind.¡± He tutted, shaking his head. ¡°Shame. They¡¯re worth a pretty penny, those are.¡± After a moment, he tapped on his screen, and a prompt appeared on mine displaying his offer: 200 Crowns. I accepted without hesitation, eager to finalize the deal before he asked how long the meat had been unrefrigerated. ¡®CLINK.¡¯ The sound echoed in my head as a new widget appeared in my interface, next to the notification tray. It displayed the number 200 alongside a spinning icon of a golden crown. ¡°Pleasure doing business with you,¡± Zilph said with a satisfied grin, leaning back in his chair. Sharla and I stepped away from the stall and began making our way back to the Bottomless Pit. The sun still hadn¡¯t reached its zenith despite everything that had happened since leaving the hospital. Time seemed strange here, as though the world stretched and compressed it at will. As we walked, Sharla abruptly stopped mid-stride, her eyes unfocused for a brief moment. Her eyes shimmered faintly with a soft, gentle glow, and I realized she was reading a notification. I frowned, wondering if my eyes did the same thing when I accessed my interface. The thought lingered as we continued down the cobblestone street, the murmur of the town surrounding us like a distant hum. "I gotta cut this short, sorry," Sharla said, her eyes flashing faintly as she interacted with her interface. "Oliver¡¯s got intel about a goblin caravan we¡¯re going to hit. I¡¯d rather not head out right away, but there¡¯s a time limit on the quest. If we don¡¯t finish by sundown, the guild¡¯ll penalize us." She extended her arm, clasping my forearm briefly before letting go. Her eyes darted around the street, then she started jogging toward the North Gate without another word, leaving me standing in the middle of the street. A pair of notifications blinked into the corner of my vision as I watched her disappear into the crowd. I mentally clicked the first, and two stacked windows popped up, playing automatically in sequence.
BA-DING Achievement: You do have friends! Description: Look at you proving all those people on Reddit wrong! Someone actually tolerates you enough to want to talk to you even when you''re not right in front of them. You have successfully added someone to your contacts list! Reward: You have a friend¡ªthat¡¯s reward enough.
BA-DING Achievement: Eager Beaver! Description: You¡¯ve gained access to an interface option before installing the corresponding module. Your experience will be restricted until the module is installed. Can¡¯t do anything right, can you? Starting to think you¡¯re doing this out of order on purpose. Reward: 1 I.O.U for a module.
I sighed, dismissing the notifications as I continued down the road. Sharla had been guiding me around the city, her mini-map¡ªa perk from completing registration¡ªhelping us navigate the maze of streets. Without it, I¡¯d opted to rely on my sense of direction to make my way back to the adventuring guild. My plan was simple: register, check my options, and return to the Bottomless Pit. As I walked, I couldn¡¯t shake the thought of Sharla running off to capture another goblin. Less than two days ago, she¡¯d nearly died in a goblin ambush, losing her leg in the process. Strangely, the thought didn¡¯t send me into a panic the way it might have yesterday. Was it the spiced drink from earlier? Or was something about this world already numbing my reactions? Taking a shortcut through a series of alleys, I zigzagged between houses and narrow streets. Laundry flapped in the breeze, strung between windows. Children ran by shouting and clashing pot lids and sticks as they played at being adventurers. The settlement bustled with life, its diverse inhabitants making the town feel both familiar and alien. Humans, dwarves, and gnomes dominated the population, but traders of stranger races added bursts of colour and chaos. Goblins¡ªfew and far between¡ªlurked in shaded alleys, their hairy arms and fishlike faces blending with the shadows. Scaly humanoids in chainmail led caged beasts to imposing buildings. Feathered creatures sang haunting melodies on the walkways, their humanlike hands tipped with curved claws gesturing theatrically. Each verse painted tales of monstrous beasts ripping adventurers apart or of triumphant victories over the same. I stopped at the edge of the main street, realizing I¡¯d miscalculated my route and ended up farther from the guild than planned. Sighing, I pulled the Safety Inspector coupon from my inventory for the first time, holding it up to examine. The green slip of paper shimmered with gold-leaf accents, the words ¡®Redeem 1¡¯ and ¡¯Safety Inspector¡¯ elegantly embossed on either side. As I admired the craftsmanship, a large, calloused hand shot out from beneath my arm, grabbing for the coupon. The angle was awkward, and instead of snatching the ticket, the hand caught my own. I spun around, startled, and saw a cloaked dwarf yanking at my wrist. Their grip tore the slip in half before they jerked free, bolting into the crowd. ¡°Oi! What are you playing at?¡± I shouted, but the figure was already vanishing into the sea of bodies. I looked down at the ruined coupon in my hand as it crumbled into dust. A sinking feeling hit me, but before I could fully process what had happened, five new notifications blinked into the corner of my vision. Then, something else caught my eye. In the top left of my interface, new text had appeared: ¡®Safety Inspector.¡¯ Chapter 6 I didn¡¯t have the patience to deal with the obnoxiously condescending achievements, probably mocking me for being dumb enough to get robbed in broad daylight. Shaking off my frustration, I decided to jog to the guild before anything else happened. I made good time, arriving at the stone building just as the sun reached its zenith. Ascending the steps, I entered and made my way to the front desk. The young man I¡¯d spoken to earlier was still there, writing diligently with a metallic pen, dipping it periodically into a small glass inkwell. I stood at the counter, rocking on my heels, waiting for him to notice me. After a few seconds, he glanced up, did a double take as his gaze lingered above my head, and straightened up with a much more formal demeanour. "Hello, sir. How may I assist you?" he said, his tone brisk and professional¡ªquite a contrast to earlier. ¡°I¡¯d like to pay my stipend and join the guild,¡± I explained, already feeling a knot of dread forming in my stomach. He paused, staring at me with an expression of incredulity mixed with amusement. Then, chuckling softly, he shook his head. ¡°That¡¯s very funny, sir. I do appreciate a joke, even at my expense, but I am quite busy. If you¡¯re hoping to schedule a meeting with the guild secretary, I must disappoint you¡ªshe won¡¯t be back until tomorrow.¡± I frowned. ¡°No, I¡¯m not joking. I was here earlier, and you told me I needed 100 Crowns to join if I didn¡¯t pick a class. Well, I have the Crowns.¡± His polite smile faltered. ¡°Guild owners cannot join another guild, sir. If there¡¯s a message you¡¯d like to leave for the madam secretary, I¡¯ll ensure she receives it.¡± He conjured a small screen and keyboard, his fingers poised to type, clearly prepared to record whatever "message" he thought I had. Frustrated, I let out an annoyed grunt¡ªmostly directed at the realization that my Crowns were gone. My thoughts raced back to the thieving little dwarf from earlier, but I forced myself to remain composed. ¡°Never mind,¡± I said stiffly. ¡°Thanks for your time.¡± I left the counter, feeling both irritated and confused. Outside, a line of stone benches offered a place to sit. As I slumped onto one, I noticed the unfamiliar text in the corner of my vision. Curious, I opened the waiting notifications.
BA-DING System Notification: You have founded a new guild. By redeeming a class coupon without any current affiliations, you have established a new guild and been designated as its leader. All available currency has been moved into the guild treasury. Your compendium has been updated to include information about your duties as a guild leader. You lack any valid party members to fill the position of guild secretary. You will be assigned a system-generated NPC to fill this position once a guild location has been established. Guild fees will be automatically deducted from the guild treasury until a treasurer is assigned.
BA-DING Achievement: Moving on up! Description: Look at you, all grown up and starting your own guild¡ªsuch responsibility! You are now tasked with running day-to-day operations and growing your guild to prominence. And to think your mother said you¡¯d never amount to anything. Reward:
I stared blankly at the notification, trying to piece together exactly how I¡¯d become a guild leader between leaving Sharla and now. Before I could make sense of it, the narrator¡¯s voice interrupted¡ªsultry, smoky, and unnervingly alluring.
BA-DING New Persistent Quest! Pay Your Dues Mmm, I love a man who takes charge, but you¡¯ve got to have that coin to keep a lady like me happy. You are required to pay your guild dues to the oversight board within one week. The amount is calculated at 100 Crowns per guild member per week, plus 1,000 Crowns each month. Total Amount: 1,100 Crowns, payable in 7 days. Go bring home the bacon, hun! Reward: This quest doesn¡¯t offer rewards. Failure to complete it will result in a collection action.
One thousand, one hundred Crowns. My stomach churned. Sharla had received 50 Crowns as a sign-up bonus. I¡¯d barely managed 200 from selling wolf parts. I had no idea how much quests paid, but I knew I¡¯d need to start earning fast. The very thought of a ¡°collection action¡± sent a cold shiver down my spine. The next notification came into focus, its transparency fading as I read it.
BA-DING Achievement: Classy Description: You have gained a class. This achievement is granted to anyone who completes the registration quest, so don''t let it go to your head. Reward:
I waited for the sound of clinking coins, but it never came. Instead, the newly added Guild Master tab vibrated, and an animation of coins being sucked into it played. My shoulders slumped in defeat as the disapproving voice chimed in with one last notification.
BA-BAA Quest failed: Back to School Description: Huh. Well, colour me impressed. It¡¯s been a long time since someone failed this quest. I don¡¯t know what you did, but I hope you¡¯ve got a plan, smart guy, because now you¡¯re destined to be some merchant¡¯s bitch as you scrounge together a living. Education is important, you know!
I ran my hands through my hair and leaned back against the wall of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild, staring at the pale blue sky. ¡°Well, shit,¡± I muttered. A rhythmic buzzing behind my eyes pulled me from my despair. A new envelope icon blinked in my interface. I sighed, resolving to spend some time customizing the layout later¡ªthings were getting crowded with all these tabs and notifications.
Bzzz Bzzz Bzzz Sharla: Hey, I¡¯m at the pit. Where are you? The quest was a bust. I¡¯ll tell you more when you¡¯re here.
I typed out a quick reply:
Ryan: I¡¯ll be there in a little bit, just at the guild. See you soon.
The chat window slid neatly to the left of my vision, now accessible with a flick of my eye. Pushing aside my frustration, I made my way back to the tavern, rehearsing how I was going to break the news to Sharla. She had been insistent about me getting a class, expecting me to return triumphant with my guild registration complete. When I arrived, a group of adventurers were exiting the tavern. One of them held the door open for me, and I nodded in thanks as I stepped inside. The Bottomless Pit was bustling as usual, its warmth and noise almost overwhelming. Sharla was sitting in a booth this time, deep in conversation with a young woman who faced away from me. The woman¡¯s appearance was striking: she was dressed in a mud-caked three-piece suit, the points of her heels snapped off. Her legs swung beneath the chair, not quite reaching the floor. As I approached, Sharla noticed me and waved me over. ¡°Ryan! Over here,¡± she called. I approached, and Sharla introduced us. ¡°Ryan, this is Milli¡ªshort for Millicent. Milli, this is Ryan. We know each other from before. Milli¡¯s been looking for a group to team up with.¡± Milli extended her hand stiffly for a handshake. I shook it, though my mind was still preoccupied with the looming mountain of guild debt. ¡°Nice to meet you,¡± I said distractedly. Milli smiled curtly, then turned back to Sharla, her hands gesturing dramatically as she resumed their conversation. ¡°As I was saying,¡± Milli continued, her voice sharp and youthful despite her formal attire, ¡°I would be very interested in joining up with you and your friend here. However, I must insist that we draft a contract outlining loot distribution and combat responsibilities. It¡¯s vital to avoid future disputes.¡± I glanced at Sharla, shooting her a message through my interface.
Ryan: Are you recruiting for Tim? I don¡¯t see him anywhere.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. Sharla: He¡¯s not here. I left the party. Their vibes were really rancid. Ryan: What? I thought he saved your life. What happened? Sharla: It can wait a little while. Milli came up and asked me to party with her, and I just said yes. She¡¯s... really intense.
I glanced at Milli, who was now emphasizing her point with a sharp jab of her finger against the table. Her octagonal glasses magnified her expressive brown eyes, and her full lips were tinted faintly red¡ªlipstick long overdue for reapplication. She exuded an energy that bordered on manic, her formal suit doing little to ground her frenetic enthusiasm. The woman cleared her throat, her sharp eyes clearly indicating she could tell we were talking in chat. Sharla looked up, plastering on a diplomatic smile. ¡°If you¡¯re willing to write one up, we¡¯d be happy to sign on the dotted line, as it were.¡± Milli¡¯s eyes lit up, practically sparkling. She brought her hands up to her chin, small fists balled with excitement. I could hear the light tap, tap, tap of her feet hitting the booth seat as she swung them excitedly. ¡°OKAY! I¡¯ll have it to you before the end of business today!¡± she said, her voice quivering with excitement. She did a quick arm clasp with both Sharla and me before hopping out of the booth. With a brisk and almost comically determined stride, she made her way up the stairs and disappeared into a hallway. Now alone, Sharla leaned in, her cheerful mask fading. She started relaying what had transpired while we were separated. She had found her party a few hundred meters from the gate. They had a gnome bound, blindfolded, gagged, and on their knees. It didn¡¯t take much to see they were ¡°extracting¡± information. The gnome, she explained, was a trader in town. Oliver had seen the gnome speaking with a goblin caravan and, in his infinite wisdom, decided they must be an informant. Sharla paused, disgust flickering across her face. ¡°The guild has really strict rules about merchants and non-monster NPCs. You can rough them up, but killing them is strictly forbidden unless you¡¯ve got a guild-approved quest. I left the party when Oliver started interrogating him again, I don''t want anything to do with people like that." As I was proceeding to tell her that I had a massive debt from founding a guild somehow, Sharla suddenly went rigid. A flash of light crossed her eyes, and her face dropped, the blood draining from her cheeks. ¡°Oh, those absolute reprobates!¡± she hissed, standing up so fast she nearly knocked her drink over. She punched the table, her fist trembling with anger. Her voice grew louder, each word more venomous than the last. ¡°They killed him! And since I was still part of their damned party when they started, I¡¯m being held responsible too!¡± I stared at her, dumbfounded. She began pacing back and forth, muttering under her breath, clenching and unclenching her fists. After a few minutes, she finally managed to string something coherent together. ¡°They revoked my guild membership!?¡± she blurted, her tone a mix of anger and disbelief. ¡°My class is gone, too!? All because of those wankers!¡± She stopped pacing and turned to me, determination blazing in her eyes. ¡°Can I join your guild?¡± she asked, leaning over the table until her face was inches from mine. ¡°You¡¯re a guild leader now, right? Surely you can give me a class.¡± I jerked back instinctively, hands raised. ¡°I¡ªI don¡¯t even know how it works! I¡¯ve been a guild leader for, like, ten minutes! And I¡¯m pretty sure I¡¯m already on the verge of bankruptcy.¡± She didn¡¯t break her stare. She was clearly not going to let this drop. But before the tension could escalate further, Milli reappeared, startling both of us. Neither of us had noticed her approach. She now stood by the table, three neatly stacked bundles of parchment clutched in her arms. With practised precision, she placed one stack in front of me and another in front of Sharla, utterly oblivious to the exchange she¡¯d interrupted. ¡°Here are the contracts!¡± she chirped, clearly in her element. ¡°This draft is fairly boilerplate, of course. It¡¯ll need amendments if we move past the probationary period.¡± I blinked at her, then at the wall of legal jargon now staring me in the face. ¡°Wait a second. You were gone for, like, five minutes. Do you just keep these things under your bed or something?¡± Milli gave me a perfectly serious look, adjusting her octagonal glasses. ¡°As I said, these are mostly boilerplate. I¡¯ve written hundreds of these at my last job. Though yes, I did prepare this particular draft after the, ah, ¡®unpleasantness¡¯ with my last party.¡± Making air quotes with her fingers. She produced a sleek black-and-gold pen from her jacket pocket, the name ¡°Millicent¡± etched on the cap in elegant cursive. She handed it to me with a polite but expectant smile. Milli flipped through the pages, signing the document in multiple places with practised ease. When she finished, she handed the pen to Sharla, breaking her intense glare in my direction. Sharla hesitated but took the pen, her expression still stormy, and began signing where Milli¡¯s small, well-manicured hands guided her. Each signature was accompanied by Milli¡¯s meticulous double-checking, her eyes sharp and businesslike. Finally, Milli turned to me, holding out the pen with a polite but firm smile. I stared at the stack of documents, my stomach knotting. The closest thing I¡¯d ever dealt with was a good behaviour contract in high school¡ªthis was a whole other level of commitment. Still, I went along with it, signing my name no fewer than fourteen times. Each spot was marked with a small cross, and Milli insisted on checking every single one before giving an approving nod. With a satisfied smile, she gathered the papers, and with a small blink, the stacks disappeared into her storage.
Bzzz Bzzz Bzzz Sharla: We are NOT done with this.
I sighed and pushed the chat box aside, feeling the weight of her lingering frustration. Milli, meanwhile, seemed unfazed, turning her attention to the drinks menu with enthusiasm. Through a casual conversation that followed, I learned she had just turned 19 in November. She¡¯d spent the last year working as an executive assistant for her father¡¯s company, which explained her startling professionalism. Milli regaled us with stories of after-work gatherings and morale-building activities, speaking with the confidence of someone who had navigated corporate dynamics far beyond her years. She insisted on buying the first round, declaring it a tradition she¡¯d upheld during many after-hours outings with her former colleagues. The drinks worked their magic, and before long, Sharla had relaxed back into her seat, her earlier anger seemingly forgotten. Milli introduced us to a series of drinking games, each more elaborate than the last. By the third round, I found myself caught up in a game where we took turns completing a limerick. Sharla, with her deadpan delivery, had us in stitches, and Milli¡¯s infectious energy kept the games rolling one after another. I was well and truly drunk by the time the warm, insistent twitch in my bladder demanded attention. Excusing myself, I made my way to the restrooms. The small, white-tiled room was functional and clean, with a row of urinals, a couple of sinks, and a roll of paper towels. After finishing my business, I washed my hands and splashed some water on my face, trying to shake off the growing haze of alcohol. When I returned, Milli was gesticulating wildly, her voice brimming with excitement as she explained yet another overly complicated drinking game to Sharla, who sat with her arms crossed, nodding along. I slid back into my seat just as Milli clapped her hands and declared the rules finalised. The night blurred into a haze of laughter, bouncing coins into mugs, and the warm camaraderie of our little trio. I must have passed out mid-game because when I woke, the tavern was eerily quiet. The lively chatter and music had faded, leaving only the soft sounds of snoring. Sharla was curled up on the booth cushions like an oversized cat, her wild mane of hair spilling across her face. A few other patrons were scattered around, slumped over tables or sprawled in corners. I stretched, my head pleasantly free of the splitting headache I¡¯d expected. Whatever passive healing this world provided, it had done wonders. A soft ¡®ping¡¯ caught my attention, and I opened the waiting chat notification.
Milli: You two are total lightweights. But I¡¯m positively buzzing with excitement to start my role as treasurer. Don¡¯t forget that you agreed to join Sharla and me for a quest in the morning¡ª7 a.m. sharp!
I blinked at the message, wondering how she planned to keep track of the time so precisely. Outside, the sun had already risen, and the early bustle of the settlement was beginning. Vendors were setting up their stalls, the chatter of traders and clinking of goods filling the air. My stomach growled, reminding me how little I¡¯d eaten. I approached the bar, where the ever-cheerful Quokka bartender was already cleaning mugs and wiping down the counter. He slung a cloth over his shoulder and greeted me with a grin. ¡°Howdy, mate! What can I get you?¡± ¡°Uh, is water free?¡± I asked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. The Quokka made a soft squeak of amusement and fetched a pitcher, filling it with water from a tap behind the bar. I thanked him and carried it, along with a couple of cups, back to the booth. After pouring myself a drink, I pulled out a Mornin¡¯ Hun ration pack and eagerly devoured the dense, cakey loaf. The warmth of the drink and food settled in my stomach like a comforting embrace. Refreshed, I brushed my teeth in the restroom and returned to find Sharla awake and sitting at the bar. Her hair was a chaotic halo of tangled curls, puffing out in all directions, giving her an almost ethereal look in the morning light. She was ordering something from the Quokka bartender, who had disappeared into the back to prepare it. ¡°Did you also get the message from Milli? I don¡¯t remember anything from last night,¡± Sharla asked in a croaky voice, her head resting heavily in one hand as she refilled her cup of water. ¡°Yeah, I got it,¡± I replied, stretching my back until I heard a satisfying crack, then bending over to touch my toes. She gulped down her drink and rubbing her temples. ¡°Do you remember anything we talked about?¡± ¡°Nope,¡± I admitted, sitting back down. ¡°I¡¯m just planning to go with the flow. I¡¯ve only got six days left to pull the money together, so I¡¯m down to try a quest.¡± While Sharla nodded absently, I thought back to the hazy memory of sifting through my menus late last night. Sharla, already several drinks in, had been slurring her way through explanations of features I hadn¡¯t fully explored yet. My class, Safety Inspector, had drawn quite a bit of confusion from both her and Milli¡ªit wasn¡¯t something they had ever seen or heard of before. The class came with no weapon or armour proficiencies and offered only two unique skills:
Skill - Passive: Flaw Finder Description: You have the supernatural ability to identify environmental hazards, defects in items, and structural flaws. They will glow when you enter a new location. Skill - Passive: Hazard Hunter Description: When you successfully land an attack derived from a defective item, environmental hazard, or structural flaw, you will deal double damage¡ªprovided you haven¡¯t used that method before.
The names of the skills felt more like jokes than powers, but their utility couldn¡¯t be denied. Even now, as I glanced around the room, I noticed a loose floorboard under a table, a chandelier swaying precariously from a rusty chain, and a wobbling chair that looked ready to collapse. It was like being inside a stealth game, with the hazards calling out to me, daring me to use them. The bartender interrupted my thoughts as he returned with a plate of thick toasted bread, each slice topped with a perfectly fried egg. Sharla slid a few coins across the counter, and they blinked away into his interface without him touching them. She tore into the food with enthusiasm just as Milli descended the stairs, her cheerful presence brightening the room instantly. ¡°Morning, guild buddies!¡± she announced, practically skipping into the tavern. Her clothes were freshly laundered, the scent of lavender trailing behind her, and her hair was styled just enough to look effortlessly perfect. She had swapped out her ruined heels for practical leather boots, though they clashed with the rest of her professional outfit. ¡°Last night was fun,¡± she continued, balancing a bacon-and-egg muffin in one hand, ¡°but I hope you don¡¯t expect to be partying like that every night¡ªnot with our expenses being what they are.¡± Sharla and I exchanged a glance, both fully aware we¡¯d probably been the weak links in her late-night endurance. Milli didn¡¯t seem fazed, though, as she reached into her inventory and produced a small green slip of paper, about the size of a business card. She handed it to Sharla with an air of ceremony. ¡°I put a lot of thought into this,¡± she said, her voice brimming with confidence. ¡°I think this is the best fit for you, given your background.¡± Sharla squinted at the card as she took it, her mouth half-full of toast and egg. ¡°Wha¡ª¡± she began, before a piece of bread lodged in her throat, sending her into a fit of coughing. I leaned over, patting her on the back. Milli raised a brow, entirely unimpressed. ¡°That¡¯s why you shouldn¡¯t talk with your mouth full. You¡¯re a doctor¡ªyou, of all people, should know the statistics on choking deaths.¡± Sharla waved me off as she recovered, her face red with embarrassment. The card read ¡°Bible Thumper¡±, a class that Milli explained was a front-line tank-healer hybrid with a focus on blunt weapons. ¡°It¡¯s similar to what you had before,¡± she added, ¡°but this class lets you heal too.¡± Sharla looked at the coupon with a mix of suspicion and curiosity, finally muttering, ¡°Huh. Not bad.¡± Milli then turned to me, her tone shifting to businesslike efficiency. ¡°Oh, and last night¡ªwhen you were very drunk¡ªyou explained this whole guild leader situation. Remember that?¡± Her expression was one of polite exasperation as she recounted how I¡¯d offered her the role of treasurer. Apparently, I had been incredibly enthusiastic, and Milli had accepted just as enthusiastically. The memory came back in pieces, and I winced as I recalled her excitedly bouncing in her seat when I¡¯d asked. She¡¯d called it a ¡°CFO position,¡± something she was more than happy to take on. Milli had even chosen a class called Tinkerer, which allowed her to create gadgets that could buff Sharla and, with more experience, dismantle and reassemble items into new creations. ¡°How much did all this cost?¡± I finally asked, my voice tight as a cold sweat began to drip down my back. Milli didn¡¯t miss a beat, waving a dismissive hand. ¡°Oh, nothing we can¡¯t handle,¡± she said lightly, her tone almost too casual. ¡°You do realise we need classes if we¡¯re going to take on quests, right?¡± She refused to meet my eyes, and that only made the knot in my stomach tighten. I hesitated for a moment, then opened my Guild Leader tab, bracing myself for what I¡¯d see. The number hit me like a punch to the gut. My throat went dry. I sent a message to Sharla:
Ryan: I think we¡¯re fucked. Chapter 7 Eleven thousand Crowns. My newly minted guild owed 11,000 Crowns, due in six days. Sharla had ushered Milli outside when I started yelling, leaving me alone to vent my frustrations to the kindly Quokka bartender, who nodded sympathetically while wiping down the counter. When I finally stepped outside, I found them sitting on a bench, Sharla looking mildly irritated and Milli slumped like a child caught drawing on the wall¡ªshoulders hunched and head dipped. The sight made my anger dissipate, replaced by regret. I had no energy left to berate her. ¡°You said you had a quest to do?¡± I asked, breaking the silence. Neither of them seemed eager to start the conversation. Milli¡¯s face lit up at the opening. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s a patrol quest. It seems pretty easy,¡± she said tentatively. ¡°And since we¡¯re our own guild, we earn way more than we¡¯d normally get.¡± Bzzz Bzzz Bzzz Milli sent the quest details to our newly created group chat, a feature she¡¯d apparently mastered already. The quest was straightforward: patrol the roads and kill 15 goblins. It offered 1,500 Crowns¡ª100 per goblin¡ªwith a bonus of an extra 100 Crowns for every additional goblin slain. ¡°It does sound promising,¡± I agreed, though a pit of doubt churned in my stomach. ¡°But how tough are goblins to deal with?¡± Sharla chimed in, arms crossed. ¡°Depends. The feral ones wandering around the woods are manageable if you¡¯re careful. If they¡¯re wearing clothes, though? That means they¡¯re smarter, tougher¡ªand a real handful if you get more than a couple of them together.¡± Bzzz Bzzz Bzzz Milli sent a formal quest invite, the accept button flashing beneath the message in my interface. I clicked it, and my quest counter ticked up. Almost on cue, another notification slid into view. I opened it, partly out of habit and partly for the pleasure of hearing her voice again. The narrator¡¯s sultry tone purred through my mind, sending a tingle down my spine.
New Quest: Green for Green Description: Traders have reported feral goblins prowling the roads near the settlement. All those energetic new adventurers have stirred them up, and now they¡¯re out in force. Do your part and kill 15 of these filthy creatures for the town. And remember, any extras you bag will earn you a bonus. So don¡¯t be shy¡ªslaughter as many as you like. Reward: 1,500 Crowns plus 100 Crowns for every additional goblin.
Sharla explained that her previous party had done a similar quest but were paid far less¡ª1,000 Crowns for 20 goblins. Our rates were significantly higher, but the math was still bleak. To clear our debt, we¡¯d need to complete at least two quests a day, three if we wanted any money left for supplies or upgrades. The weight of it loomed over us, but I pushed it aside and stood up. Sharla followed, and Milli scrambled to her feet a beat later. Sharla already had an axe and her armoured boots. Milli had only her leather boots, and I had... my tent pole and Walkin¡¯ boots. We were painfully under-equipped. Sharla and I discussed our strategy as we walked toward the eastern gate, Milli darting ahead to chat with shopkeepers and gather intel. According to Milli, the eastern road was the best spot for hunting feral goblins. The problem was, none of us knew how my class skills would work in practice. Not being able to use the same attack twice severely limited our options. I mentioned my Goblin Speech skill and suggested laying an ambush with me as bait to call the goblins in. Sharla, to my surprise, didn¡¯t question how I had the skill. Instead, she nodded thoughtfully. ¡°Not bad,¡± she said. ¡°If they come to you, we can stay out of direct combat unless we have to. If the numbers get overwhelming, we bail.¡± We stopped about an hour and a half¡¯s walk from the gates. Milli, clearly unused to walking long distances, lagged behind most of the way. After a few too many stops to let her catch her breath, I offered her my Walkin'' boots. At first, she refused, insisting they were way too big for her, but after some coaxing, she reluctantly tried them on. To her surprise¡ªand mine¡ªthey resized themselves perfectly to her feet, just as they had done for me. Her old boots also resized themselves when I put them on, but they lacked the stamina boost the magical pair provided. ¡°I¡¯m getting those back when we¡¯re done,¡± I reminded her as she happily jogged alongside us, keeping pace without complaint for the first time. ¡°Deal,¡± she grinned. We picked a spot just off the main road, surrounded by dense foliage. The plan was simple: Milli and I would hide on one side of the road while Sharla took position on the other. If we spotted goblins, I would lure them closer with my Goblin Speech ability, using a friendly, non-aggressive tone to avoid alarming them. Sharla would then ambush them from behind and take them out quickly. If the situation got out of hand, she¡¯d message us in the group chat to stay hidden until the goblins lost interest and left.
Sharla: Okay, I see one coming. You ready? Ryan: Ready. Milli: Ready.
The group that approached turned out to be three feral goblins. Only one of them was armed, and none wore anything resembling clothing beyond tattered loincloths. Their potbellied forms and spindly legs gave them an almost cartoonishly unbalanced look, but their sharp features and erratic movements were unsettling up close. They behaved more like wild animals than the organized goblins I¡¯d encountered on my first night. One of them dropped onto all fours, sniffing at a bush before yanking out a fistful of berries and greedily stuffing them into its mouth. Another scratched at its arm, letting out a series of sharp grunts that sounded like a laugh. The leader was more distinct¡ªits nose was bent at a severe right angle, clearly broken in the past, and it carried a tree branch slung over its shoulder like a crude club. Its exaggerated swagger suggested authority. I focused on the lead goblin, tapping into my Goblin Speech ability. The compendium had explained how translation abilities worked, but this was my first time using it. I spoke, the words feeling both foreign and oddly familiar in my mouth. ¡°Check out this cool bug,¡± I said. The phrase emerged as the harsh barks and snorts characteristic of Goblinese. The lead goblin¡¯s head snapped in my direction, its beady eyes narrowing as it let out a sharp grunt to the others. The two flanking goblins spread out, moving with surprising speed as they closed in on our position. Milli and I were hidden behind a thick tree, but they were now just meters away. The goblins¡¯ greasy, pungent stench hit me like a wall. My heart pounded as their guttural noises grew louder. I glanced at Milli, who was standing rigid, her eyes wide and her entire body trembling like a startled cat. One wrong move, and she¡¯d bolt. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.
Ryan: What are you waiting for? They¡¯re right on top of us!
The message sent just as Sharla burst from her hiding spot, screaming at the top of her lungs. Her deep, bellowing roar was deafening, making my ears ring and startling the goblins into gasping, animal-like cries of shock. Sharla charged forward, slamming into the nearest goblin with her full weight, sending it crumpling to the ground. Before the others could react, she swung her woodcutter¡¯s axe with brutal precision, burying it deep into the skull of the second goblin. SCHLOK. The sound of the blade meeting bone was sickening. Sharla yanked on the axe to free it, but it stuck fast. She didn¡¯t notice the leader goblin winding up for a counterattack until it was too late. The club smashed into her face with a brutal thud, sending her sprawling to the ground. She groaned, dazed, a nasty bump already swelling on the side of her head. Her eyes darted around unfocused as the goblin turned its attention toward her. The goblin raised its crude branch high, ready to deliver a finishing blow to Sharla as she struggled to get back on her feet. Without thinking, I jumped out from behind the tree, my pole already in hand. With a sharp flick, I extended it to full length and swung it around the goblin¡¯s neck, locking it into a rear choke. HUURK! The goblin let out a strangled gasp as I yanked backward with all my strength, sending both of us crashing to the ground. The creature flailed wildly, its nails scratching futilely at the smooth metal of the pole pressing against its windpipe. Despite its small size, it was alarmingly strong, its wiry frame fuelled by pure desperation. I gritted my teeth and adjusted my grip. Remembering a move I¡¯d seen my dad use on my uncle during one of their drunken wrestling matches, I swung my legs around the goblin¡¯s torso and arched my back, tightening the hold. Its gasps turned frantic, clawed hands stretching upward, coming dangerously close to my face. WHAP! Sharla, now back on her feet and glowing faintly from a self-cast healing spell, kicked the goblin hard in the ribs. I heard the crunch of bone as the creature yelped and flew several feet to the side, landing in a heap. It clutched at a rapidly darkening purple bruise, spewing curses in Goblinese. Sharla didn¡¯t waste the opening. She strode forward and stomped down with all her might. CRACK. The goblin¡¯s neck snapped audibly, and all movement ceased. Sharla stood over the child-sized monstrosity, her boot firmly pressed into its deformed neck, breathing hard. After a moment, she composed herself and turned to me, offering a hand. ¡°You alright?¡± she asked, pulling me to my feet. ¡°Yeah. Thanks for the save,¡± I replied, brushing dirt off my clothes. Milli was still crouched behind the tree, trembling and letting out faint whimpering noises. It was clear that neither of us was remotely ready for combat. I felt a buzz behind my eyes as a small progress bar appeared in my interface, labelled ¡°Grappling.¡± The bar had filled about 1% before disappearing. At least something good had come from my panic-fuelled improvisation. Sharla looked at Milli and then down at herself, covered in thick, greenish-red goblin blood. She tried wiping it off with her sleeve, only succeeding in smearing the sticky substance across her face. I retrieved a water ration from my backpack and handed it to her. She poured it over her hands and scrubbed at her face before handing the bottle back with a nod of thanks. I crouched behind the tree and gently placed a hand on Milli¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Hey, it¡¯s over. Come help us loot these things,¡± I said softly. Milli nodded hesitantly but still seemed rooted to the spot. Meanwhile, Sharla began looting the goblins, taking first pick as we¡¯d agreed. Milli shot her a look of disappointment but didn¡¯t complain. The goblins had little of value¡ªa few crude trinkets, bits of fabric, and some rancid meat. Once we had stored what we could, the bodies crumbled into dust, leaving only faint stains on the ground. Sharla noticed Milli still looked out of place. She walked over and spoke to her quietly. I didn¡¯t eavesdrop, but whatever she said brought a small smile to Milli¡¯s face. Soon after, Milli started collecting twigs, leaves, and fabric from her inventory. She sat cross-legged, working diligently on what turned out to be a rudimentary padded helmet for Sharla. When she finished, she beamed with pride and helped fit the helmet snugly onto Sharla¡¯s head. Sharla knelt to make it easier, the scene resembling a knight receiving their helmet from a child. The next group we encountered had four goblins, two of which were much smaller and unarmed. This time, Sharla was in better form, dispatching them with practised efficiency. Her axe dripped with greenish-red ichor, chunks of goblin flesh clinging to the blade. We repeated this process three more times over the next two hours. Goblin patrols came through every 15¨C20 minutes, usually in groups of three to five. Our strategy evolved: Milli threw rocks to distract and disorient the goblins, while I kept them at bay using my pole, now modified with a sharpened stick lashed to one end for extra reach. Sharla did the heavy lifting, cutting them down with brutal precision. By the last encounter, we were working together like a proper team. I kept the goblins within Sharla¡¯s range, and Milli¡¯s well-placed projectiles often distracted them long enough for Sharla to land a decisive blow. Each fight only lasted a few seconds, but the effort left us all wiped out. After looting the final group, we tallied our total: 17 goblins slain, just enough to earn the bonus. ¡°Let¡¯s not push our luck,¡± Sharla suggested, wiping sweat from her brow. We agreed to avoid confrontation on the way back to the settlement. Milli, now buzzing with energy, excitedly recounted Sharla¡¯s exploits. ¡°They were all like ¡®RAWR,¡¯ and then you went ¡®SHWING!¡¯ and cut its head off! It was so badass!¡± she exclaimed, wielding a tree branch like an imaginary axe and making exaggerated sound effects. Sharla chuckled, ruffling Milli¡¯s hair. ¡°Yup, that¡¯s definitely what I did,¡± she said jokingly, throwing me an amused look. Despite my initial doubts, Milli had proven herself surprisingly eager¡ªand surprisingly effective¡ªonce she got involved.
We were only about a half hour out of town when I noticed a figure ducking behind a tree. I shot a message into the group chat, not wanting to alert whatever laid in waiting for us.
Ryan: Guys hold up, I think there is something ahead.
Sharla jerked her head to the side, the signal to get off the road and we all took positions behind trees and bushes. Only a few seconds passed and a balding man wearing khaki cargo pants, military boots and a dark tank top stepped out from behind the tree that they were using as cover. "Didn''t think you would have noticed me, I''ve been here for the last 40 minutes waiting for you Sharla"
Sharla: It''s Oliver, something is off about him.
"Party dissolved after we killed that little prick, we all got kicked out of the guild. Tim is back with the boss, the other two disappeared when you did. Little birdie told me that you have hooked up with a new group and that you had left out the Eastern gate to complete a quest."
Sharla: He sounds drunk, I''m going to go talk to him.
Sharla walked out from her hiding spot and onto the road. "Hey Oliver, didn''t realise it was you" She said in a friendly tone, smiling and waving. "There she is, the black bitch" Oliver said, either not hearing her or choosing to ignore her. "You know, my dad always told me working with darkies was bad luck." He continued pointing his blade at her. Sharla''s smile vanished and her grip on the axe shaft changed from a relaxed one to a more menacing double handed posture. "OOOO scary" Oliver said in a mocking tone. ¡°It has been a long time since I had the chance to put one of you things in it¡¯s place.¡± Then he threw himself into a sprint, shoulder charging at Sharla. He got her by surprise and knocked the wind out of her, bringing her to the ground. Sharla and Oliver were nearly the same height, but Sharla had the edge in raw muscle. Despite that, Oliver had her pinned. He straddled her, slashing and stabbing with frightening speed. Sharla raised her arms to shield her face, his blade carving deep into her forearms. A yellow aura flared around her, knitting the wounds shut almost as quickly as they were made. With a furious roar, she smashed the haft of her axe into his face. The impact was brutal¡ªbone crunched as Oliver reeled back, clutching his now-ruined nose. Sharla didn¡¯t stop. Hooking the axe¡¯s shaft around his neck, she planted a boot against his chest and flung him like a sack of grain. He hustled into the tree Milli and I were hiding behind. Oliver staggered to his feet, swaying like a drunk. Above him, the telltale glow of my Flaw Finder highlighted a heavy, precarious branch. My instincts took over. I darted out from cover, jumping and grabbing the branch near its edge. With all my weight, I swung. CRACK The branch broke free, splinters jutting like jagged teeth from its severed end. It arced down in a deadly sweep. The splintered wood plunged into Oliver¡¯s neck with a sickening thunk. For a moment, everything froze. Oliver swayed, his hands twitching toward the branch lodged in his throat. Blood bubbled from his lips in a wet gurgle, and then his body folded. He hit the ground hard. The jolt dislodged the branch, tearing the wound open. Blood sprayed in a grotesque fountain, painting the dirt path in crimson. Sharla was on her feet in an instant, her axe forgotten as she dropped to her knees beside Oliver¡¯s spasming body. Hands shaking, she pressed them to the gaping wound. Her yellow aura flared as she whispered a prayer, but the light sputtered and faded. Her magic couldn¡¯t undo the damage. ¡°No, no, no!¡± Sharla cried, switching to CPR. Each compression sent fresh sprays of blood into the dirt. Her anguished sobs cut through the silence as Oliver gave a final shudder and went still. I couldn¡¯t move. My hands hung limply at my sides, the weight of what I¡¯d done pressing down like a stone. Milli stepped away from me, her eyes darting to the branch, then back to me. She said nothing but looked me over like she was seeing me for the first time. Sharla stayed kneeling over Oliver¡¯s body, her fingers hovering over his lifeless chest as though waiting for his next breath. But it never came. The forest was silent, except for the sound of her broken sobs. Chapter 8 Sharla left Oliver¡¯s lifeless body slumped at the base of the tree. Milli ran to her, wrapping her arms tightly around Sharla¡¯s waist. They walked together awkwardly for a few steps, Sharla¡¯s heavy breathing and blood-streaked figure standing in stark contrast to Milli¡¯s desperate need for comfort. I stayed behind, staring at the man I had just killed. In the movies, people cried when they killed for the first time. Or they screamed, shouted, something. I didn¡¯t feel any of that. I felt... numb. His face was frozen in a look of surprise, one side slick with blood from where the branch had punctured him. I hadn¡¯t planned to kill him. The branch was supposed to knock him out¡ªor pin him down, at worst. Not this. It hadn¡¯t even fully detached from his chest, the bark still lodged in the wound as though it had grown roots there. I crouched beside the body, instinctively reaching out to close his eyes. His skin was still warm, the faint heat of life lingering for a moment longer. As my fingers brushed his eyelids, a window appeared in my vision, accompanied by the now-hated buzz.
Lootable container: Corpse.
I froze, staring at the screen as a sick, bubbling anger churned in my chest. This place wasn¡¯t natural. Someone¡ªor something¡ªwanted us to kill. They wanted us to stop seeing each other as people, to turn this into a macabre game of survival. Kill. Loot. Repeat. The words flashed unbidden in my mind, an echo of a slogan from one of the many MMOs I¡¯d played as a kid. It made my skin crawl. I glared at the interface, my fists clenching as the anger coursed through me. But curiosity¡ªor maybe something darker¡ªwon out. I pressed Inspect. Oliver¡¯s inventory appeared. It was pitifully scarce. His knives lay in the grass nearby, military issue¡ªsimple, efficient, and instantly recognizable. My dad had carried the same kind, gifting me a pair for my 18th birthday, along with a camping set now gathering dust in my closet. Something else caught my eye: a glowing item labelled "Bandit Token." I hesitated. The item pulsed faintly in the corner of the interface, a stark reminder of what Oliver had become¡ªor what he¡¯d been marked as. With a sigh, I selected it, and the token vanished into my personal storage. Then, standing stiffly, I turned and walked away.
The walk back to the settlement was silent. Sharla and Milli moved ahead, walking side by side, while I trailed behind. None of us spoke. When we passed through the gate, a soft buzz accompanied the notification that our quest had been completed. The Crowns were distributed to me as the guild leader, but I didn¡¯t see a single one. They went straight to the guild treasury, a hollow victory against the mountain of debt we still owed. Sharla and Milli headed to the community board near the gates, a chaotic tangle of parchments fluttering in the breeze. Each one offered a different quest, their details glowing faintly as my interface translated them into condensed tooltips. I approached, standing beside them as I scanned the board. One quest caught my eye.
Wanted: Bandit Tokens Reward: 1000 Crowns per token
A chill ran through me. The token in my inventory felt heavier, more sinister. I hesitated, glancing sideways at Sharla and Milli, who were still absorbed in the board. My chest tightened as guilt crept in. I couldn¡¯t tell them¡ªnot yet. I surreptitiously accepted the quest. A faint buzz confirmed its addition to my log as a persistent quest. If I had to kill again, at least I¡¯d be rewarded for it. That grim thought settled over me like a lead blanket. A message popped up in the group chat
Bzzz Bzzz Bzzz Sharla: We¡¯ve got another quest. I want to get it done before it gets too late.
I accepted the quest invitation without protest. Sharla didn¡¯t look at me, her attention fixed on the board. The quest details appeared in my interface:
New Quest! Herb Gathering Gather as many patches of ¡®Moonshade¡¯ as you can. More herbs mean more Crowns! Reward: 100 Crowns per bushel
The reward structure was straightforward: Crowns for every clump of herbs collected. The gathering area was close enough to town that the settlement¡¯s spiked walls would remain visible. We spent the rest of the day quietly combing the area, calling out when we found a patch or offering terse thanks when someone handed over a stray handful. The silence wasn¡¯t oppressive; it was necessary. We were all processing in our own way. Milli approached me at one point, twigs and leaves clinging to her hair. Her voice was soft, hesitant. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking about it... what happened with Oliver.¡± I tensed, bracing for condemnation. ¡°I don¡¯t blame you,¡± she continued. ¡°I don¡¯t think you meant to kill him.¡± I looked at her, searching for anger or resentment, but found only sincerity. ¡°Thank you,¡± I said, my voice quieter than I intended. She gave me a small smile before returning to Sharla, who was crouched near a dense patch of herbs.
That evening at the Pit, Milli invited Sharla and me to what she called our "guild headquarters." Sharla and I exchanged a confused look but followed her upstairs. She led us to a room near the end of the hall, pulling a small key from her inventory to unlock the door. When she swung it open, the interior was nothing like we¡¯d expected. The space before us was a modern, spacious apartment with large windows overlooking the forest. An L-shaped sectional couch surrounded a sleek glass coffee table in the living area. On one wall, there were doors with each of our names etched into plaques. Opposite them, a fully equipped kitchen gleamed with polished appliances: a refrigerator, cupboards, a stove, and even a coffee machine. The white-tiled floor and soft blue walls gave the place a clean, airy feel, while potted plants were arranged tastefully around the room. Sharla and I both gasped as we stepped inside, marvelling at the sudden shift from medieval tavern to inner-city luxury. ¡°What the hell, Milli?¡± I said, awestruck by the small slice of Earth-like comfort before me. ¡°Oh, this?¡± she said with a modest wave of her hand. ¡°This is nothing. When I joined the guild, my room automatically became the guild location. That unlocked a bunch of customization options in my interface. I stayed up most of last night setting everything up.¡± She busied herself preparing cups of tea for us, moving about the kitchen as though it was second nature. ¡°Is this why we owe so much money?!¡± I shouted, fury rising at the thought that our crushing debt might be the result of her lavish decorating spree. Milli calmly turned to face me, her expression unruffled. ¡°No,¡± she said evenly. ¡°And I¡¯d appreciate it if you didn¡¯t raise your voice. You¡¯re going to scare Louis.¡± She slid a steaming cup of tea across the counter to me. ¡°It''s spelt with a silent ¡®s¡¯, by the way,¡± she added matter-of-factly, before taking a serene sip from her own cup. "He is very particular about it" I blinked. ¡°Who is Louis?¡± I asked, cradling the warm cup in my hands as I tried to keep my frustration in check. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure he¡¯s around here somewhere. You¡¯ll meet him soon enough,¡± Milli replied, waving off the question. ¡°Word of warning, though¡ªdon¡¯t let his looks fool you. He¡¯s quite knowledgeable.¡± I stared at her, dumbfounded. ¡°Okay, fine. But let¡¯s circle back to how you paid for all this. It can¡¯t have been cheap.¡± Milli popped a biscuit into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. ¡°Most of it I got before I even joined the guild,¡± she said, retrieving a small tray of biscuits from her inventory and placing it on the counter. ¡°We had a quest to hunt down this ogre thing. I got the last hit in, and it dropped a really pretty jewel and a pile of Crowns, so I took them.¡± She paused to dip another biscuit into her tea, her voice casual, as if this were the most normal thing in the world. ¡°Turns out, they were pretty valuable, and they belonged to me. My party didn¡¯t see it that way. They thought the loot should be split evenly. Things got... tense. That¡¯s when I left and joined you two.¡± I raised an eyebrow. ¡°Wait, you got the last hit in?¡± ¡°Well, yes,¡± she said with a small shrug, as though she were explaining a basic fact of life. ¡°I kicked the ogre after it fell over. I thought, technically, that made me the one who finished it off. And the system agreed.¡± Milli went on to explain how the jewel and Crowns she¡¯d looted were enough to buy this deluxe room, which had unlocked the ability to customize the space. As the guild¡¯s headquarters, she¡¯d been able to add extra rooms for us at 1,000 Crowns each. Personal upgrades for our rooms would have to come out of our own pockets, but the common areas were free for guild members to use. I sighed and walked over to the couch, flopping onto the free seat. Sharla was already sprawled out on the sectional, one arm draped over her eyes. The noise of the tavern outside was completely muffled, leaving the apartment in an almost eerie silence. For the first time in days, it felt like we were back on Earth¡ªuntil my interface, ever-present in my vision, reminded me otherwise. After finishing my tea, I retreated to the room marked with my name. The door swung open to reveal a small, cozy space with a single bed, a modest wardrobe, and an ensuite shower. The setting sun cast a warm glow across the tiled floor, but all I could think about was sleep. I hadn¡¯t had a proper wash since arriving here. The nuns had cleaned me up while I was unconscious in the hospital, but since then, the layers of gore and grime had only accumulated. Stripping off my clothes, I stepped into the shower and let the hot water run over me. It was the first time I¡¯d felt clean in days, and the sensation was almost overwhelming. When I emerged, my clothes had somehow cleaned themselves. I ran my fingers over the fabric, marvelling at the magic that must have done it. Dressed in my track pants, I climbed into bed and closed my eyes, letting exhaustion take over.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!! The sound jolted me awake, and I shot out of bed, crouching behind it instinctively. Adrenaline surged through me as my mind scrambled to process the noise. Deciding it was better to investigate than hide, I bolted into the common area. ¡°Oh my God, you are so cute!¡± Sharla squealed. Her voice reverberated through the room, filled with an uncharacteristic level of delight. It took me a moment to register what was happening. Sharla was sitting on the couch with her back to me, something small perched on her lap. She was bouncing slightly, overcome with excitement. ¡°Yes, quite,¡± came an articulate and authoritative voice. It had an odd blend of accents¡ªvaguely European, with hints of French, British, and possibly even Slavic influences. ¡°But I must request that you keep it to a dull roar, if you could restrain yourself.¡± I froze, scanning the room. Who had spoken? The voice didn¡¯t seem to match anyone I knew. ¡°And you can talk?! MILLI! I didn¡¯t know you owned a talking dog!¡± Sharla shrieked, entirely ignoring the request for restraint. The speaker made a small groan, followed by a muffled snuff of disapproval. I edged closer to see what was going on, my curiosity overriding any lingering caution. As I rounded the couch, the speaker came into view¡ªa small, white, fluffy dog. Its fur was so thick it resembled wool, obscuring most of its face, save for the glints of onyx eyes beneath. Its floppy ears twitched as it licked its mouth, then hopped off Sharla¡¯s lap with surprising grace. It perched on the couch¡¯s headrest, standing with an air of dignity that was entirely at odds with its diminutive size. ¡°Good evening,¡± the dog said in that same refined tone, bowing its head slightly. ¡°It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is Louis, and, from my understanding, you are the founder and leader of this guild. I have been assigned to this post by the system, due to your apparent lack of qualified personnel.¡± The dog extended a paw toward me. Unsure of how to respond, I reached out and shook it. Its paw was small but surprisingly firm. ¡°Uh, nice to meet you, Louis,¡± I said, trying not to sound utterly bewildered. ¡°Charmed, I¡¯m sure,¡± Louis replied, smoothly retracting his paw. ¡°And how may I address you?¡± ¡°Ryan,¡± I said, still staring at the dog as if he might disappear at any moment. ¡°My name is Ryan.¡± ¡°Delightful.¡± Louis gave a curt nod. ¡°I must apologise for disturbing your friend. I keep rather odd hours at the moment, and until I resolve certain affairs with my previous retainer, I shall be coming and going as needed. I was on my way out when this¡±¡ªhe gestured toward Sharla with a flick of his paw¡ª¡°giantess accosted me. Now, I bid you adieu.¡± With that, the dog hopped down from the headrest and trotted over to the door. For the first time, I noticed a small dog flap installed near its base. Louis approached it with the same regal air, did a dainty hop through the opening, and disappeared into the night without another word. Sharla sat frozen, her expression one of pure wonder. She stared after him until the flap stopped swinging, then turned to face me. ¡°Do you think we can get him little outfits?¡± she asked, her eyes wide with excitement. ¡°I hope he wouldn¡¯t mind. Do you think Milli has any food for him?¡± ¡°Uh¡­¡± was all I managed before Sharla was on her feet, sprinting toward Milli¡¯s door. She began banging on it with unrestrained enthusiasm, yelling something about kibble and sweaters. I decided I¡¯d had enough insanity for one night. Shaking my head, I turned on my heel and went back to bed, hoping that the next day might somehow be less chaotic. Chapter 9 When I woke up and emerged from my room, Milli had set up an entire presentation on projected revenue generation and optimal quest assignment. The setup was complete with hand-drawn slides, a makeshift easel, and a pointer that was obviously just a stick she¡¯d picked up somewhere. Sharla was already at the breakfast bar, eating a bowl of cereal and sipping from a steaming cup of coffee. The tantalizing aroma hit me the moment I opened my door, drawing me out like a moth to a flame. ¡°Fuck me, Milli, you¡¯ve got an amazing setup. I haven¡¯t slept that well in years,¡± I said, stretching and yawning as I shuffled toward the bar. Milli didn¡¯t even look up from her meticulously organized cue cards. ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear it. A well-rested guild leader is a productive guild leader,¡± she said in her clipped, businesslike tone. I glanced at the spread on the counter and in the fridge: apples, mandarins, a generic-looking box of cornflakes, and a glass bottle of milk. On the counter, Milli had a ham and cheese toastie that looked far more appetizing than the bland cereal I was eyeing. ¡°Where does all this food come from?¡± I asked, grabbing a bowl and pouring myself some cereal. Milli finally looked up, just long enough to give me a brief explanation. ¡°It¡¯s part of the deluxe room package. Each occupant gets breakfast and dinner. The selection isn¡¯t exactly gourmet, but it¡¯s reliable.¡± I stared longingly at her toastie, then back at the fridge. ¡°How come there isn¡¯t anything in there to make one of those?¡± Milli¡¯s response was sharp, her tone laced with irritation. ¡°If you insist on interrogating every minor detail, I¡¯ll be forced to assume you don¡¯t trust me. Suffice to say, I have personal funds I use sparingly for certain luxuries.¡± Sharla and I exchanged a look.
Sharla: Don¡¯t worry about it. I asked her the same thing, and she said she¡¯d set aside some money after buying this place. She¡¯s just drawing on that for now. Ryan: She doesn¡¯t have to be so testy about it. Sharla: She¡¯s been up half the night working on this with Louis. She¡¯s probably exhausted.
I took a closer look at Milli. Her eyes had dark rings under them, and she moved with the jittery energy of someone running on fumes and sheer willpower. I sighed and decided to let it go.
Ryan: Yeah, okay. I¡¯ll lay off her. But, uh, about yesterday¡­ I wanted you to know I didn¡¯t mean to kill Oliver.
Her spoon froze mid-air before she set it down deliberately. She looked up, at me face. Her eyes shimmered faintly with interface lights, her face calm but resolute.
Sharla: I don¡¯t want to talk about it. Sharla: Oliver attacked. You stepped in to protect me. That¡¯s all there is to it. Let¡¯s leave it at that.
I nodded and stared down into my bowl, watching a golden flake slowly soak up milk and sink to the bottom. No point in pushing further. Milli¡¯s presentation lasted about ten minutes, and she was in full corporate mode as she spoke. Her voice had the crisp authority of someone used to making PowerPoints in boardrooms. She laid out her case for taking on multiple quests simultaneously, claiming we could complete as many as six quests in one day by dividing them into two shifts. She argued that if we managed this pace for three days, we could take two days off and still earn enough to cover our debt and get Sharla some proper armour, a shield, and a mace. At the end of her presentation, she added, ¡°Also, I was wondering if I could take a look at that pole-staff thing you¡¯ve been using. My class allows me to disassemble magical items and potentially enhance them.¡± I hesitated, not thrilled with the idea of dismantling my only weapon. Instead, I pulled the spare pole from my inventory and handed it over. ¡°Before I forget,¡± Milli said, producing my Walkin¡¯ Boots from her inventory, ¡°here are your boots. I already examined them. I¡¯ll send you a report after we¡¯re done eating.¡± She handed them to me, and I took them, immediately checking for any signs of damage. They were pristine, with a faint lavender scent. I slipped them on, their snug fit as comforting as ever, and handed her boots back. Sharla, who had been quietly finishing her breakfast, slurped the last of her milk and cleared her throat. She straightened her posture, folding her hands on the counter like a stern parent about to deliver a lecture. ¡°I would like to table something for discussion,¡± she began in a formal tone. ¡°After yesterday¡¯s encounters, it is abundantly clear that neither of you has any real combat training. Frankly, I spent half the time saving you from what are essentially children with poor dental hygiene.¡± She wasn¡¯t wrong. Even though I had been able to help, for most of our encounters, I was more of a hindrance than anything else. Acting as a meat shield for Milli and corralling the goblins for Sharla to handle was the best I could manage. In several fights, Sharla had been forced to take on two goblins at once when I failed to scatter them or got overwhelmed, leaving her at risk of being attacked. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. ¡°I¡¯m no instructor,¡± Sharla said, ¡°but I can show you a few things, Ryan. The quarterstaff is a menace of a weapon in the right hands. As for you, Milli, I think keeping you in the backline is a good plan. But do you think you could make something like a slingshot to give yourself more range?¡± Milli¡¯s eyes lit up, and she slammed her hands onto the bench. ¡°You just gave me a brilliant idea. I¡¯m going to need some supplies, but I think I can pull it together before we head out this morning. Can you give me, like, an hour?¡± Sharla nodded, and Milli sprang from her stool, slipped her shoes on, and skipped out the front door. I quickly finished my breakfast as Sharla asked me to help her clear some space in the common area for practice. We pushed the couches and coffee table against the walls, creating a roughly three-meter square area in the centre of the room. Sharla started me with the basics: a block, a parry, and a strike. Once I memorized the movements, she had me drill them over and over as she circled me, pointing out corrections. She adjusted my foot placement, showed me how to hold the staff for maximum leverage, and scolded me whenever I didn¡¯t put enough power into my moves. After thirty minutes of this, my shoulders burned with exertion. ¡°Now, conditioning,¡± she announced with a smirk, ushering me into sets of burpees, knee touches, and squats. She did the exercises alongside me, ensuring my form stayed correct and urging me to push until the very end. By the time Milli returned, I was sprawled out on the floor, panting and soaked in sweat. It felt like I had gone another round with the wolf. Sharla, barely winded, explained that she¡¯d been doing HEMA since her last divorce. ¡°It started as a stress reliever,¡± she said, ¡°but it turned into a full-blown obsession. It¡¯s how I keep sane.¡± When Milli came back, she excitedly produced several items from her inventory: a long wooden pole, some netting, a metal U-shaped object, and a stack of leather strips. Sharla and I watched in fascination as she meticulously assembled the materials. In less than twenty minutes, she had crafted a strange scoop-like implement, which she brandished with pride. ¡°You are looking at the 16-and-above lacrosse team captain for the Sydney St. Bartholomew¡¯s All-Girls Boarding School,¡± Milli proclaimed, her voice brimming with excitement. Sharla and I exchanged blank stares. ¡°Watch this,¡± Milli said, unfazed. She placed a small wad of leather on the floor, scooped it up with her newly crafted weapon, spun on her heel, and launched it with impressive speed. The wad hurtled across the room and collided with the window, reverberating with a loud THWANG. ¡°Wow,¡± I said, genuinely surprised at the power behind her throw. ¡°That¡¯s not all!¡± Milli beamed. ¡°I¡¯ve already got ideas for other things I can load into it and I can fling stones way farther and harder with this thing.¡± ¡°That¡­ that¡¯s actually really useful,¡± Sharla admitted, examining the weapon with newfound respect. Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, I snuck off to my room, wary of Sharla forcing me into more drills. I took another shower, relieved to find that my clothes had been magically cleaned and folded neatly on my bed again. When I rejoined them, the two were deep in discussion, strategizing ways to use our new loadouts. Sharla had devised a plan for the day: she would isolate single targets for Milli and me to handle, only stepping in to back us up or heal if absolutely necessary. We headed out of the tavern, which was already packed with adventurers jeering and laughing over drinks. Many were bolstering their courage with a hefty dose of alcohol before setting out on their quests. I tried to order a drink myself, half-jokingly asking Milli to spot me, but Sharla interjected with a firm, ¡°We don¡¯t have time to waste getting shitfaced.¡± We made our way through the streets to the community board where we picked out two patrol quests and a collection quest. We planned on staying out all day today cycling between a few areas nearby the settlement. Our patrol tasks were for goblins and wolves. The memory of my last encounter gave me shivers and I tried to object. Sharla assured me that the wolf I faced was some kind of freak and the ones we''d be taking on were more like large dogs. I reluctantly agreed. They would be a profitable quarry for us because aside from the quest rewards they dropped valuable crafting materials that we could sell to Zilph basically doubling the reward. The collection quest was for a type of freshwater muscle that the quest had told us could be found along the banks of a lake only 15 minute walk from the western gates.
Our first encounter was with a pair of feral goblins. Using the tactic we¡¯d honed the previous day, we dispatched one of them quickly. Sharla knocked out the second, then dragged it into a clearing just off the road. After healing it, we waited for it to regain consciousness. ¡°You two are going to work on your combat techniques and teamwork. I¡¯m not going to interfere unless I think you¡¯re about to die,¡± Sharla said simply. We hadn¡¯t discussed this, but from the way she spoke at the meeting, it was clear this had been her plan from the start. As it stirred, Sharla leaned casually against a tree, gesturing for us to begin. Milli and I had hashed out a plan beforehand. I would harass the goblin with hit-and-run strikes while Milli bombarded it with stones from a distance. We took our positions. The goblin scrambled to its feet, its yellowed eyes darting around with fear and fury. When I stepped in close, it lashed out with its gnarled claws and mismatched teeth. ¡°I¡¯ll kill you and make a blanket from your skin!¡± it shrieked, swatting away my staff. ¡°NOT LIKE THAT, DOWNWARD STRIKE!¡± Sharla yelled from the sidelines, her hands cupped around her mouth. The goblin glanced at her, distracted. I took the opportunity to lunge, gripping my staff at one end and raising it overhead. With all the force I could muster, I brought it down. Too late. The goblin darted aside, and my staff slammed into the ground with a sharp CLANG. Vibrations jolted up my arms, and I dropped it instinctively. Before I could react, the goblin leapt at me. WHOMP. A fist-sized stone smashed into the goblin¡¯s head mid-air, sending it sprawling to the forest floor. ¡°YES!¡± Milli pumped her fist, triumphant. The hit had torn a deep gash in the side of its head, thick, foul-smelling blood staining the grass. While it writhed, I ran up and kicked it hard in the stomach. It wheezed as the air rushed from its lungs. Grabbing my staff, I moved to finish the job. ¡°WAIT!¡± Sharla barked, holding up a hand. She jogged over, placing her prosthetic foot on the goblin¡¯s chest to keep it pinned. ¡°Reset,¡± she said simply. The goblin wheezed pitifully, clutching its stomach, as Sharla launched into critique mode. ¡°Milli, your aim was great¡ªyou¡¯ve got solid instincts. But remember, your job is to create openings for Ryan and me. Time your attacks so we can follow up.¡± Milli nodded thoughtfully, already looking for ways to improve. ¡°Ryan,¡± Sharla turned to me, her tone all business, ¡°you need to be more aggressive. When an opening presents itself, you have to commit. But don¡¯t just charge in blind¡ªthat¡¯s how you lose your weapon like before.¡± My face burned. Sharla smirked and clapped my upper arm, nearly knocking me off balance. ¡°You¡¯re both doing great,¡± she said. ¡°Let¡¯s go again.¡± Sharla healed the squirming goblin, who looked understandably confused as its wounds closed. She jogged back to her spot by the tree, and the goblin staggered to its feet, still disoriented. We retook our positions. We repeated this process four more times. By the end, the goblin had stopped fighting entirely. It sat dejectedly on the grass, swiping half-heartedly when I prodded it with my staff. Its yellowed eyes met mine, hollow and resigned. For a moment, guilt gnawed at me. I had the strange urge to apologize, maybe even let it go. Before I could act, a stone hurtled from Milli¡¯s lacrosse stick with a sharp crack, smashing into the goblin¡¯s temple. Its head jerked violently, and it toppled to the ground. Thick blood oozed into the grass, and it let out faint, pathetic whimpers. Sharla walked over, her axe glinting in the sunlight. Without hesitation, she swung, cleanly severing the goblin¡¯s head. I watched in silence, unsure of what to feel. Guilt? Relief? Accomplishment? As Sharla wiped her axe clean, I opened my notifications. To my surprise, I¡¯d gained several experience points in Quarterstaff Mastery¡ªa skill I hadn¡¯t even realized my class allowed me to train it. Despite my morning workout, I felt surprisingly strong, the soreness in my body mitigated by my passive healing factor. I glanced at the goblin¡¯s lifeless body, I suppressed a rising feeling of nausea. Chapter 10 The next few fights were also with goblins. We took turns in running the plays we had been using giving everyone the chance to grind out experience. We had managed to kill 8 goblins of the 15 we were tasked with and it had barely been an hour. We moved deeper into the woods, tracking wolves. Unlike the goblins, they were elusive. Hours passed with no sign of them, forcing us to resort to bait. A stray goblin wandered into our path, and Sharla quickly dispatched it. The system allowed us to butcher the body, carving off arms and legs before the rest disintegrated into dust. Goblin meat, as it turned out, was irresistible to wolves. Three of them slunk out of the shadows, drawn by the scent. They snapped up the scraps, growling and lunging at each other over the meagre feast. Their sleek, grey bodies moved with alarming speed, muscles rippling under their fur as they fought. We weren¡¯t taking any chances. Sharla barked orders at us to split them up, ensuring she could face them one-on-one. Milli proved her worth almost immediately, her aim now razor-sharp after our earlier practice. She sent a rock spinning into one wolf¡¯s flank, earning a yelp and forcing it to back off. But these wolves were no pushovers. They were fast, vicious, and coordinated. The first wolf lunged at Sharla. She sidestepped, bringing her axe down in a sharp arc, but the creature darted out of range. It was relentless, feinting left and right, keeping her off balance. Sharla gritted her teeth, sweat beading on her forehead as she tried to land a solid hit. Finally, as it bit at her leg, she found her mark, using the opening created by its attack to cleave off its left hind leg. When the second wolf joined the fray, I jumped in to flank it. I jabbed at its side with my staff, landing a glancing blow. The wolf whipped around with a snarl, baring its fangs. My heart lurched as it locked eyes with me, its gaze primal and full of malice. It leapt. Sharla seized the opening. Her axe came down in a brutal overhead strike, cleaving through the wolf¡¯s shoulder and burying itself deep in its chest. Blood sprayed, and the creature let out a choked whimper before collapsing. The final wolf circled Milli, its fur bristling. It was battered and limping, its body marked by cuts from the rocks she had launched with surgical precision. Milli toyed with it, keeping it at bay with her ¡°crosse,¡± a stick with a netted end that doubled as a blunt weapon. She spun it expertly, landing stinging blows whenever the wolf ventured too close. I stepped in to help, but Milli waved me off. ¡°I¡¯ve got this,¡± she said, her voice steady and confident. Still, I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling of opportunity as my Flaw Finder ability highlighted branches above. They hung tantalizingly close to breaking, splinters already starting to crack under imaginary weight. I hesitated, analysing angles and timing, but the setup wasn¡¯t right. Besides, I wasn¡¯t sure if my double-damage skill would even trigger again after earlier successes. It felt unreliable¡ªa tool for emergencies, not routine combat. Sharla and I closed in on the wolf. Its movements were sluggish now, each step laboured. Milli took advantage of its fatigue, delivering a powerful blow to its side with the crosse, sending it staggering into Sharla¡¯s path. Sharla didn¡¯t waste the chance. With a swift, practiced motion, she swung her axe in a deadly arc. The wolf¡¯s head snapped to the side, and it crumpled in a heap, unmoving. The forest grew quiet again, save for the heavy breathing of the three of us. Milli leaned against her crosse, grinning at her work. ¡°Not bad,¡± she said, brushing dirt from her knees. Sharla shot her a smirk, wiping blood from her axe. ¡°You¡¯ve got an arm, I¡¯ll give you that. But next time, less playing with your opponent.¡± Milli rolled her eyes. ¡°Where¡¯s the fun in that?¡± After looting the wolves, we decided to take a break from fighting and focus on our collection quest. We got back onto the road and eventually located the lake. The search for the wolves had taken far longer than we¡¯d planned, and all of us were ravenously hungry. When we arrived, I pulled out my canvas sheet and a few ration packs¡ªtwo Mornin'' Hun¡¯s and a Night, hoping for a bit of variety. Sharla and Milli were visibly grateful for the ration packs. The evening version was a nice change: it contained the usual container of water, but instead of the dense energy bar, it featured an instant-heat pouch with two openings. One was for water to trigger a chemical reaction that heated the food, while the other rehydrated the contents. Once warmed, the pouch released an inviting meaty aroma. The package claimed it was Beef Bourguignon, though it lacked the complexity of its namesake. Still, it was delicious and warming, a comforting meal after our exhausting morning. We all brushed our teeth afterward¡ªnot necessarily because we needed to, but to justify the inclusion of the dental kits in the ration packs. The lake was a serene place. Its shore was lined with cattail grass, reeds, lily pads, and an array of wildflowers. Scattered among the greenery were small, fist-sized, faintly luminescent stones that sparkled like glitter-infused bath bombs. I picked one up and turned it over in my hand, intrigued by its strange beauty. ¡°Ewwww!¡± Milli exclaimed, recoiling as I showed it to her, as if I¡¯d just offered her a severed head. She slapped my hand away. ¡°What are you doing?! Don¡¯t pick up poop off the forest floor!¡± ¡°What?!¡± I yelped, dropping the ¡®stone¡¯ instantly. I stared at my hand, blindsided by this revelation. It glittered softly; a powdery layer had coated it. ¡°He doesn¡¯t have the modules from the induction quest, so he can¡¯t see item descriptions,¡± Sharla explained, stifling a laugh. ¡°You really need to be more careful, Ryan, at least until we figure out how to get you the same mods we have.¡± ¡°What else do you two have that I don¡¯t?¡± I asked, anxiety creeping into my voice. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Sharla and Milli rattled off their interface upgrades: mini-map, item identifier, enemy tracking, party menu, and inventory management modules. My own interface felt bare-bones by comparison. I hadn¡¯t unlocked the extended article on the interface in the compendium yet, but hearing about their modules only fuelled my fascination¡ªand my need for upgrades. I made a mental note to corner Louis the next time I saw him. The fluffy little freeloader hadn¡¯t returned to the guild hall since his mysterious ¡®business trip.¡¯ I wasn¡¯t letting him out again until we had a proper chat. We turned our attention back to the quest. The area was tranquil, but my Flaw Finder skill highlighted the silt in the shallows with a soft glow. Memories of wandering the beach near my home came flooding back. When the tide went out, the mud was so thick and deep you could sink up to your waist if you weren¡¯t careful. We searched the shoreline for the molluscs we needed but came up short. Sharla suggested they might actually be in the water. None of us were particularly eager to wade in, but after drawing the proverbial short straw, I ventured in first. The water was cool and crystal-clear, lapping softly at the shore. My feet sank into the waterlogged soil as I dug around, quickly discovering dense clusters of coin-sized clams just a few feet from the waterline. I called Sharla and Milli over to help collect them. While we worked, a dark shadow the size of a car loomed in the deeper water, gliding ominously toward the shallows. We froze, watching as it came within a few meters of us before turning and vanishing back into the depths. None of us wanted to discover what the shadow belonged to, so we stuck close together and stayed near the shore. Milli stood as lookout while Sharla and I continued gathering clams. Within ten minutes, we¡¯d collected six of the molluscs. We were making excellent progress and on track for an extremely profitable day. If we pushed past the quota, we could potentially halve the remaining debt. Then, the ground trembled. A rhythmic thump, thump, thump¡ªeach step heavier than the last¡ªechoed through the stillness. We froze. Without a word, we dove into the foliage, pressing ourselves flat against the ground. Sharla put a finger to her lips, signalling for silence, then quickly sent a message to the group chat:
Sharla: Milli, did you see anything? Milli: It¡¯s an ogre. Same kind my party fought before. Sharla: Can we take it? Milli: We had seven people and almost lost two of them. They¡¯re faster than they look¡ªand they¡¯re as strong as they seem.
The creature lumbered into view, towering at least nine feet tall. Its swampy yellow skin stretched tight over massive arms thicker than my torso. A heavy potbelly swayed with each step, and legs splayed into a wide, confident gait. Slung over its shoulder was a young tree, its tangled roots forming a crude club longer than Sharla was tall. Draped across its barrel chest was the pelt of a giant wolf, its head resting against the ogre¡¯s sternum like a grotesque trophy. We held our breath as it approached the lake, kneeling at the edge to scoop up bucket-sized handfuls of water.
Milli: Shit. Look.
Her finger shot out, pointing toward the spot where the ogre had emerged. Two men were crouched behind a tree, dressed in jeans and button-down shirts with worn leather boots. One held a longbow, nocking an arrow, while the other hefted a shimmering warhammer. They were players, clearly tracking the monster.
Ryan: We need to stay out of this. If they want to get themselves killed, that¡¯s their choice.
I glanced at Sharla. Her eyes darted between the men and the ogre. She was already planning to jump in the moment the fight started.
Ryan: Sharla, don¡¯t. This isn¡¯t our fight.
She didn¡¯t respond. I barely had time to brace myself before the bowman drew back his arrow with a soft creak. The ogre froze, tilting its head at the sound. TWAP An arrow sprouted from the side of its head. The ogre let out a thunderous roar that shook the air, hitting me like a physical force. My ears rang, and when I touched them, my fingers came away slick with blood and my world plunged into silence. Sharla was already on her feet, axe in both hands, charging at the beast. Milli crouched nearby, hands clasped over her ears as blood trickled between her fingers. The ogre whirled toward Sharla, rising to its full height. It swung its massive club in a wide arc, the air gusting so hard I had to shield my eyes. Sharla ducked low, sliding between its legs and coming up on one knee to swing her axe into its calf. The creature bellowed in pain, baring tusk-like teeth in a snarl that vibrated in my chest. The warhammer wielder charged in, closing the distance and slamming his weapon into the ogre¡¯s knee. The joint buckled, and the monster dropped into a crouch, leaning heavily on its club. The hunter raised his warhammer again, aiming for the ogre¡¯s head¡ªbut the creature was faster. In a blur of motion, it grabbed the man¡¯s arms, crushing them together with a sickening crack. The warhammer fell as the ogre swung him like a ragdoll, slamming him into Sharla and sending them both flying. They hit the ground in a tangled heap and didn¡¯t move. I heard a gentle ¡®pop¡¯ and a high pitched ringing filled my ears as my hearing returned. ¡°Sharla!¡± I yelled, but there was no response. I turned to Milli. ¡°Drive it into the water! If we can bog it down, we might have a chance to escape.¡± The ogre turned, lumbering toward the frozen archer. I darted from cover, positioning myself between it and the lake. ¡°Oi, Shrek!¡± I yelled, waving my arms. ¡°Over here!¡± The ogre paused, tilting its head, then started toward me. Each step felt like a boulder slamming into the ground. My bravado drained away as it closed the distance. When it was nearly on me, I dove between its legs, landing on my stomach. The ogre looked down, grinning, and reached for me with deliberate menace. THONK An arrow slammed into the back of it''s head. The ogre howled, staggering backward into the water, its feet sinking into the mud. A stone hit its shoulder, driving it deeper. A third arrow struck its neck, but the ogre yanked it out, roaring as it struggled against the muck. It was working. I sprinted to Sharla¡¯s side, finding her pinned under the warhammer wielder¡¯s limp body. His head was twisted at an unnatural angle, almost fully turned around. Sharla was unconscious, her chest rising and falling faintly. I strained to lift the man off her but couldn¡¯t move him. The ogre flailed in the water, slowly freeing its legs from the mud. A soft glow caught my eye, one of the ¡®stones¡¯ was lying near my feet. It was lightweight, almost brittle, but I was out of options. I hurled it at the ogre. The stone shattered on impact, releasing a cloud of shimmering blue dust. The ogre roared, clawing at its face as it tried to stumbled deeper into the lake. Its feet stayed anchored in the sticky silt and its legs gave way, it toppled backward with a massive splash. Before I could catch my breath, the water churned violently. A massive creature erupted from the depths, a green snake-like beast with vibrant purple frills and translucent, needle-like fangs dripping venom. It struck with terrifying speed, sinking its teeth into the ogre¡¯s neck. The two monsters disappeared in a whirl of roiling water, their struggle vanishing beneath the surface. The lake went still. ¡°Josh!¡± the archer cried, rolling his friend off Sharla. He checked for a pulse, his hands trembling. ¡°He¡¯s alive!¡± he shouted. Sharla groaned as her passive healing kicked in, waking her moments later. She sprang into action, murmuring a prayer as her hands glowed yellow. The warhammer wielder¡¯s head began to twist back into place, bones cracking and popping as they knitted together. The man let out a gasp. Sharla placed a hand on his chest. ¡°Take it slow,¡± she said gently. ¡°I think you were as close to dead as anyone can get. Don¡¯t rush.¡± Chapter 11 The men introduced themselves as Joshua and Andrew. Both were in their twenties and wore matching jeans and button-down shirt combos, the kind of outfit you¡¯d see on club-going young men back on Earth. Josh had coppery hair and stood slightly taller than Sharla, with a broad, well-built frame. He looked like he could have been a rugby player or something similarly physical. His warhammer glinted in the fading sunlight. It was a brutal-looking weapon, with a claw on one side and a spiked surface like a meat tenderizer on the other. Andrew, on the other hand, was only slightly taller than me, with black hair peppered with grey and a square, less muscular frame. His bow and arrows appeared mundane, their simplicity contrasting with Josh¡¯s warhammer. Grateful for the help earlier, they offered to join us in finishing the collection quest and to keep watch for the lake monster that had likely retreated to digest its meal. With their assistance, we collected close to fifty clams, spending an hour digging in the mud and talking, getting to know the pair. Josh wasn¡¯t just lucky to be alive; his class, Mosh Pit Enthusiast, had a unique skill that allowed him to survive fatal damage so long as at least one ally remained alive nearby. ¡°This is the first time it¡¯s activated,¡± Josh said as he pulled a clam out of the mud with a soft ¡®plop¡¯. His voice carried a slight country twang that pegged him as a Central Australian. ¡°My class is really good for up close fighting. I get a bunch of buffs the more damage I take, and it gives me a massive health boost too.¡± ¡°That¡¯s honestly a lifesaver,¡± I said, genuinely impressed. ¡°Is it just the two of you in your party?¡± ¡°Nah,¡± Andrew said from the shoreline, his eyes fixed on the water. He also had the same country accent, making me wonder if they¡¯d known each other before the selection. ¡°We¡¯ve got another friend, but she¡¯s holed up in the tavern. We started with five, but we lost two on the second day. Took a quest to investigate a cave, and there was a giant bear inside. One swipe killed one of us, and the other got bitten clean in half. She hasn¡¯t left the tavern since.¡± A chill ran down my spine. ¡°And the ogre? What possessed you to take that on?¡± ¡°That was my idea,¡± Josh admitted sheepishly, lifting his warhammer. ¡°I found this in the cave. It¡¯s incredible¡ªignores resistances and has a daze effect if I land headshots. We¡¯ve been tearing through everything since. The quest was just supposed to be recon, but when it updated with a huge reward for killing the ogre¡­ I got greedy.¡± ¡°Did you get the reward?¡± I asked, my suspicions gnawing at me. Josh shook his head. ¡°Nope. Failed the side quest, but the main quest is still active, so it¡¯s not a total loss.¡± That confirmed what I suspected: rewards here were as unforgiving as the system itself. Before parting ways, we exchanged contacts and made plans to meet up at the Pit later. I found myself enjoying their company and was disappointed to see them go, but Sharla insisted that Milli and I needed more practice before relying on outside help. As we prepared to leave, I gathered as many of the glowing ¡®stones¡¯ as I could find and stowed them in my backpack, despite Milli¡¯s protests. ¡°Eww, seriously? That¡¯s just gross,¡± she muttered, watching me with a mixture of disgust and exasperation. The rest of the day passed quickly. By the time the sun started to set, Milli and Sharla had both made impressive progress. Milli had levelled up her Made at Home skill, which boosted the damage of weapons and equipment she crafted herself. Sharla¡¯s healing abilities had improved too, with shorter cooldowns and faster casting times. I hadn¡¯t levelled up, though my Quarterstaff skill had gained half a level, and my Flaw Finder was just a sliver away from ranking up. Still, the day wasn¡¯t a loss. My bestiary had expanded to include goblins and wolves, and we¡¯d managed to bag 27 goblins, seven wolves, and 50 clams. When we tallied the rewards, we had earned 5,100 Crowns for the day. Hope stirred in my chest. Despite the chaos of the last two days¡ªincluding being attacked by an insane racist and an ogre¡ªwe¡¯d made real progress. Even with more than 3,000 Crowns still hanging over our heads, for the first time, it felt like we might actually have a shot at making this work. When we returned to the settlement, Zilph¡¯s shop was already closed for the night, so we headed straight back to the Pit. Josh and Andrew were waiting for us, joined by a woman who looked as if she hadn¡¯t slept in weeks. Her face was pale, marked by three faint scars running across her wide features and down her neck. Stocky and short, she barely reached my shoulders when she stood to greet us. Her handshake was firm but cold, her hands soft and clammy against my skin. Her dark blonde hair, tied in a long, unkempt plait down her back, looked like it hadn¡¯t seen soap in days. Josh, ever the jovial host, ordered a round of drinks and a lavish spread of meats, cheese, bread, and dried fruits. Milli made an attempt to pay for the alcohol, but Andrew waved her off, firmly declaring it a lost cause to argue. We ate and shared stories from before the selection. Josh and Andrew were engineering students who had been drinking too much at a bar when the selection struck. A fight broke out between them, and the bar¡¯s patrons voted them both into ¡°The Tithe¡± within minutes. Fiona, the woman, had been at a work event. Her colleagues had chosen her name out of a hat. ¡°I was the lucky winner,¡± she said flatly, lifting her hands weakly in mock celebration, her expression devoid of any emotion. When the conversation turned to Milli, she shared her own story, one I hadn¡¯t heard until now. I realized I¡¯d been subconsciously avoiding thinking about that night, and Milli hadn¡¯t spoken to me about it either. She explained how she¡¯d been in a meeting with a group of junior executives, filling in for her father. He was off on a yacht with her mother and a billionaire, a last-minute arrangement her mother had insisted would bolster her father¡¯s career. Milli¡¯s peers had insisted she was the most qualified to represent the company. ¡°They were, of course, correct on all points,¡± she said dryly, ¡°but I do wish someone would¡¯ve seconded my motion to base it on time served. Then I could¡¯ve gotten rid of that rat, Richard.¡± Forming her hands into a mock strangling motion as she spoke. Sharla and I stayed quiet when it came to our turn. Sharla had her drink and her thoughts, her rough week weighing heavily on her, while I deflected the question entirely, turning it instead to Fiona. ¡°What¡¯s your class Fiona?¡± I asked, eager to shift the focus. ¡°It¡¯s called a Televangelist,¡± she said, flinching slightly when I addressed her by name. ¡°I¡¯ve got prayers that cast spells¡ªblocking damage, giving resistances, that sort of thing. I can also do a big heal once a day that cures everyone around me, but it takes a while to cast.¡± Sharla was the first to retire for the evening, slipping away shortly after finishing her meal. Milli wasted no time introducing a drinking game, one where each player had to say a word starting with the last letter of the previous one. As Sharla left, I caught a flicker in her and Milli¡¯s eyes¡ªthe telltale sign they were messaging each other. I didn¡¯t ask. It wasn¡¯t worth stirring the pot. I hated conflict, always had. My ex-girlfriend in high school once called me a ¡°spineless little shit¡± for not standing up to a guy who¡¯d insulted me at the shops. She dumped me on the spot, and the worst part was, I¡¯d agreed with her. But here, I couldn¡¯t afford to be that same scared kid anymore. Still, picking fights over nothing wasn¡¯t the way forward either. By the seventh¡ªmaybe eighth¡ªround of Kings, my head was swimming. Milli had somehow produced a pristine deck of cards, presenting them with a triumphant ¡°TA-DAA!¡± The games had been a blur of laughter, slurred words, and clinking mugs. Finally, I decided I¡¯d had enough and stood to leave, wobbling precariously on my feet. Josh slung my arm over his shoulder to steady me and helped me up the stairs. ¡°Dude¡ªurp¡ªdude,¡± Josh slurred, his large frame swaying unsteadily as he leaned against me. ¡°You and that Sharla lady¡­ you saved my life today. Did you know that? You saved my freaking life. If it weren¡¯t for you, I¡¯d be ogre poop right now, and, uh, I dunno how to be poop.¡± I opened my mouth to respond, but he held up a hand, wobbling slightly. ¡°No, no, wait! What I¡¯m trying to say is¡­ you¡¯re my best friend. My best friend. And if you ever need anything, I mean anything, you just gotta ask, okay?¡± ¡°Uh¡­ sure, man,¡± I managed, blinking one eye after the other, my own balance barely holding up. ¡°Wait, actually¡­¡± He let go of me, swaying dangerously, and fumbled at his side. With a grand flourish, he pulled out his shimmering warhammer. ¡°Here,¡± he declared, pressing the weapon into my arms. ¡°I don¡¯t want it anymore. I¡¯ve decided I hate almost dying. It¡¯s a total bummer. I don¡¯t wanna be a Mosh Pit whatever. You take it.¡± I stared down at the warhammer, its gleaming surface catching the light even in my blurred, drunken vision. It felt surprisingly light and warm to the touch, and there was an inscription on the shaft, though I couldn¡¯t focus long enough to read it. ¡°Uh, yeah man. Anytime,¡± I mumbled, unsure of what else to say. ¡°I love you, man. I LOVE you,¡± he said, poking me in the chest before turning and lurching down the stairs, one hand gripping the railing for dear life. Still blinking in confusion, I stumbled into the apartment, dropping the warhammer as I crossed the threshold. It hit the tiled floor with a loud CRACK, leaving a fresh, jagged line in one of the pristine white tiles. Wincing, I braced myself against the wall and shuffled to my room. I dropped onto the bed, face-first, and fumbled with my interface to send a message to Sharla.
Ryan: heY thers a hammmer f4 U, from jsh
Perfect, I thought, my head spinning. I barely had the strength to open my notifications before blacking out. One of the last messages I remembered reading made my sleep-addled brain want to laugh and groan simultaneously:
Achievement: Shit Sniper Description: You¡¯re a shit sniper. Not like a ¡®shit¡¯ sniper, but a SHIT sniper. You¡¯ve scored a hit against a foe while using faeces as your projectile. Way to make your ancestors proud, monkey boy. I hope you washed your hands after. Reward: We don¡¯t reward that kind of behaviour.
The next morning, I woke up surprisingly refreshed considering how late I¡¯d gone to bed. After stretching and brushing my teeth, I wandered into the common area. Milli and Sharla were perched on the couch, fussing over Louis. The tiny white dog was lounging regally, his underbite making him look both dignified and perpetually unimpressed. The smell of coffee called to me like a siren¡¯s song, and I poured myself a cup, pairing it with a quick bowl of cereal. Once I finished, I joined the girls, who were now animatedly discussing Louis¡¯ favourite foods and whether or not he¡¯d look good in seasonal outfits. ¡°So,¡± I said, sinking into the empty couch and putting my feet up on the coffee table, ¡°you¡¯re our secretary or something, right?¡± Louis sneezed delicately, then flipped onto his feet with a flourish. ¡°Indeed. I am the general secretary for the guild. I handle quest bookings, high-level communication, and, naturally, advising you on best practices.¡± He leapt gracefully off Milli¡¯s lap and trotted over to me, his claws clicking softly against the tile. Jumping onto the couch beside me, he sat upright, leveling his eyes at me with an indignant glare. ¡°I must apologize for my absence. My obligations to my previous employer remain unfinished, though for the foreseeable future, I am at your service.¡± The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. I blinked. ¡°Wait, hold on. Aren¡¯t you, like, an NPC? How can you have a previous employer?¡± Louis let out a soft growl, stamping his paw against the couch in a gesture of irritation. ¡°NPC? How dare you. I am a biological being with advanced cognitive capabilities. I am connected to the computational matrix, yes, granting me access to vast stores of data, but I am flesh and bone, just like you. Well, with a few¡­ enhancements.¡± He sat up straighter, his voice tinged with pride. ¡°My previous employer is a woman of considerable status, boasting an unmatched culinary staff. It is a shame that you lack such amenities..¡± I raised a hand in placation, trying to calm the increasingly irritable Louis. ¡°Chill, I was just asking. But I did want to talk to you seriously.¡± Louis narrowed his eyes but nodded for me to continue. I spent the morning training and discussing my class and the missing modules with him. As we talked, I quickly realized Louis was an absolute treasure trove of information. He explained that classes were ranked in tiers, ranging from E to S. New arrivals only had access to E-tier classes, and advancing required meeting specific prerequisites, such as maxing out class skills. Once a class was upgraded, it granted access to higher-level abilities. My class, Safety Inspector, was an A-tier class¡ªsecond highest Louis had ever seen. Finding a high-ranking base-level class, he said, was exceptionally rare and a massive boon. ¡°Most people would auction off a class like yours to noble families,¡± Louis continued. ¡°It¡¯s not uncommon for these classes to become the property of a wealthy patron for their heirs or retainers to use. They often require a significant investment of time and resources. Your class, for instance, lacks any direct offensive or defensive capabilities. It does, however, allow you to level and max out any skill, albeit with a notable penalty to experience gain¡ªunless the skill is tied to triggering your Hazard Hunter ability.¡± His explanation made the class sound like a double-edged sword. It reminded me of complex hybrid builds or prestige classes from RPGs¡ªpowerful but unforgiving to play without expertise. Louis then elaborated on the modules I¡¯d missed during induction. As a guild leader, I had the ability to purchase them via the guild leader tab. While bundles were available, the cheapest comprehensive set started at 15,000 Crowns. Individual modules, marked with coloured boarders denoting rarity, were far pricier¡ªthe cheapest module alone was 50,000 Crowns. I scrolled through the list, absorbing each description. One module, in particular, caught my attention. I read its entry multiple times, each reread revealing new layers of utility.
Identify ++ An advanced version of the basic Identify module, Identify ++ provides detailed analyses upon first inspection, including resistances, common weaknesses, hidden vulnerabilities, and bonus tips. This module automatically populates the bestiary with every encounter. Loved by hunters, field guide writers, and the terminally over-prepared. Price: 120,000 Crowns
¡°I¡¯d advise against such purchases until your guild has secured its finances,¡± Louis cautioned, his tone measured. ¡°At present, you¡¯re¡­ ah, precariously positioned.¡± I nodded absently but couldn¡¯t help imagining the utility Identify ++ would bring. It wasn¡¯t just useful¡ªit was essential for someone like me, whose class relied on exploiting flaws. My eyes drifted to a crumpled piece of paper in my inventory: the I.O.U. slip I¡¯d earned for accessing the interface prematurely. ¡°Hey, what about this?¡± I asked, holding up the slip. The note looked like it had been written in haste with a ballpoint pen and folded far too many times. ¡°Is this thing real or just some joke item?¡± Louis leapt gracefully off the couch, trotting over to scrutinize the note. His fluffy tail twitched as he peered at it. ¡°You are a curious fellow, Ryan,¡± he mused, tilting his head. ¡°Yes, it¡¯s real. That I.O.U. allows you to redeem a single module from the guild menu. It won¡¯t be honoured by merchants, but tearing it in half will give you the option to activate a module without charge.¡± I stared at the note for a moment, weighing my options. Then, with a decisive rip, I tore the paper in half. The I.O.U. dissolved into a golden mist, and a prompt appeared: Select a module to activate. Without hesitation, I chose Identify ++. The moment I confirmed the selection, it felt like a surge of electricity coursed through my brain. The sensation didn¡¯t hurt¡ªit was like drinking a strong energy shot, waking every nerve in an instant. I blinked rapidly as my vision adjusted, and when I looked back at Louis, I noticed something new. A faint tingle at the back of my mind urged me to focus on him. Tentatively, I did so. Time seemed to slow as a tool tip appeared, and a new voice¡ªa calm, neutral tone¡ªread aloud the description:
Passive NPC: Louis Species: Neurologically enhanced canid. Description: This small fluffy creature isn''t all that they appear to be. While physically in the form of a Bichon Frise, they are a system generated entity. As such they can have all manner of spells and abilities they may not normally have. That being said, they are still limited by their physical form. Resistances: Magical damage, Psychic damage, Charisma based abilities and elemental damage Common weaknesses: Blunt damage, dog treats, identifying the difference between red and green. Hidden vulnerabilities: Is severely lactose intolerant, but they won''t admit it. Bonus tip: If you grab it by the scruff of its neck they will become paralysed temporarily, then you can punt the little shit.
I was more than a little upset that the beautiful womanly voice that read out the quest notifications hadn''t also read out this too. Still, Louis proved himself to be invaluable. Informing me that he was able to provide details far more extensive than what I had access to in my compendium, ranging from fighting techniques to spell descriptions and even information about the surrounding areas. However, his knowledge was limited to what we had already encountered or unlocked. While I did my best to absorb the information, Louis started explaining something called filters¡ªbarriers that restricted travel on the four roads leading out of the settlement. Before he could elaborate, the door slammed open. Milli stormed in, snatching up Louis with a dramatic flourish. The little creature let out a soft grunt, clearly unimpressed, but didn¡¯t resist as she began petting him with frantic energy. Her fingers rubbed his ears and face with a fervour that matched her agitated pacing. ¡°I can¡¯t believe she ripped me off! That snake!¡± Milli fumed, her words spilling out in an unbroken stream. ¡°She was all honeyed words and sweet talk when we first met! Just wait¡ªI hope every single one of her contracts is riddled with loopholes. If we still had Facebook, I¡¯d expose her shady business practices for everyone to see!¡± Louis, clearly over her aggressive affection, squirmed out of her arms and leapt to the floor. He shot her an unimpressed look before trotting over towards the couch. Sharla followed her in, shooting me a look that practically begged, Don¡¯t ask. Without a word, she collapsed onto the couch. Louis immediately jumped up beside her, curling into her lap. Her hand moved to scratch his belly, her movements calm and instinctive¡ªa stark contrast to Milli¡¯s agitated pacing and muttered complaints. I raised an eyebrow, but before I could say anything, Sharla sighed and relented. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll tell you.¡± She explained how Milli had led her to a merchant she claimed to have a good relationship with. When they arrived, the merchant had an item on display¡ªan essence jewel¡ªthat Milli had sold her for a fraction of its current price. ¡°A bit of a markup?¡± Milli interrupted, her voice laced with venom. ¡°She¡¯s selling it for half a million! I got a measly 125,000 for it! HALF A MILLION, RYAN!¡± Milli¡¯s gestures became more erratic, her arms flailing as she stomped around the room. It took both Sharla and me a significant amount of effort to calm her down, finally resorting to tea and coaxing to get her to sit and talk. Once settled, she recounted the story of the essence jewel. Her previous party had defeated an ogre, and after delivering the final blow, Milli looted the jewel. Refusing to split the proceeds led to her being kicked from the group. This part we already knew. What she hadn¡¯t mentioned before was just how much money she had received for it. 125,000 Crowns. The sheer amount was staggering, but learning the jewel was worth quadruple left me silently fuming on her behalf. As Milli continued pacing, venting her frustrations, I made a mental note to discuss her negotiation skills when she was less murderously inclined. By the time she calmed down, Sharla filled me in on the mundane part of their day¡ªthey had sold the wolf parts for 850 Crowns, transferring the sum to the guild treasury. Milli emerged from her room, red-faced and determined. Her voice trembled slightly, but her resolve was clear. ¡°We need to take a quest. I have the urge to kill something.¡± Sharla gave her a concerned look but didn¡¯t object. Milli¡¯s energy was raw and unprocessed, and channelling it into something productive wasn¡¯t the worst idea. ¡°I was thinking we could take the day to unwind,¡± I started, but Milli¡¯s glare made me think better of it. ¡°I refuse to believe it¡¯s healthy to push ourselves to the extreme every single day,¡± Sharla chimed in, slipping into her doctor voice. ¡°Even if this world magically heals our injuries, rest is still important.¡± Milli didn¡¯t seem to hear either of us. She marched straight to the quest board and yanked down a goblin hunting quest without so much as a glance in our direction. Sharla and I exchanged looks but followed her silently, opting to talk via the chat interface.
Ryan: Are we worried about her murder frenzy? Sharla: Ehhh, a little bit. But as long as it¡¯s directed at monsters for a quest and we get paid, it¡¯s an acceptable outlet. I¡¯ll talk to her, though. Ryan: You two have gotten pretty close, huh? Sharla: She¡¯s really trying hard to impress us. I think she¡¯s afraid we¡¯ll dump her. It¡¯s nice having another girl to talk to¡ªfor her, I mean. She¡¯s still basically a kid. I get the sense she didn¡¯t have a lot of close friends before this.
I thought about bringing up last night but decided against it. I didn¡¯t need to involve myself in every situation. Sharla had warmed back up to me since the incident, and for now, that was enough.
Ryan: Which one of us is going to remind her to invite us to the quest? Sharla: I just did.
Sure enough, the group chat pinged with an invitation. We started off using our usual strategy, but it quickly devolved into Milli charging after goblins, taking potshots with her lacrosse stick before gleefully battering them in melee. Sharla and I exchanged glances and decided to let her blow off steam while keeping an eye on her to make sure she didn¡¯t get overwhelmed. Meanwhile, we used the opportunity to focus on training. Earlier, Sharla had walked me through a three-hit combo using my pole, and she wanted me to practice it in a live setting. We cornered a goblin together, giving me space to analyse it with my Identify++ module. The tooltip that popped up was... colourful, to say the least:
Hostile NPC: Goblin Description: They have a face not even a mother could love and a mouth that would send even the most hardened British dentist running for the hills. Fun fact: the phrase ¡°shit-eating goblin¡± isn¡¯t just a euphemism¡ªthey literally eat shit. These hateful little monsters come in two flavours: feral and tribal. While physically weak, tribal goblins grow dangerous in groups, especially under a leader¡¯s influence. Leaders often wield pyrotechnics and magic to enforce their rule. Don¡¯t expect poetry slams or black-tie events, though. Resistances: Common Weaknesses: Hidden Vulnerabilities: Bonus Tip: Extremely susceptible to scams and gullible as hell. If you¡¯re looking to start a multi-level marketing scheme, goblins make excellent recruits.
The entry made me chuckle despite myself, and I focused on landing the combo as Sharla guided me. Milli, meanwhile, was on a rampage. Of the 15 goblins we killed, she personally dispatched nine. By the time we decided to head back to the settlement, her pristine pantsuit was splattered with foul-smelling goblin gore. For the first time in days, we made it back inside the settlement¡¯s walls without incident. My jaw ached, and I realized I¡¯d been clenching it the entire way back. Only when we entered the apartment did the tension leave my body. ¡°I¡¯ll make dinner,¡± I offered, heading to the kitchen. The fridge was predictably sparse¡ªcans of spam and day-old rice. Luckily, my dad was a spam connoisseur and had taught me enough recipes to turn canned meat into a delicacy. I found some spices and whipped up what he called ¡°army sushi¡±¡ªa simple, hearty dish that involved grilled spam rolled in rice with a bit of seasoning. We sat down on the couch to eat: Milli, Sharla, Louis (to my surprise), and me. Sharla and Milli marvelled at how good it smelled, given the humble ingredients. Louis, of course, had to insert his opinion. ¡°Quaint,¡± he said with a sniff, which I chose to ignore. ¡°Soooooo,¡± I began, drawing the word out as I worked up the courage to broach the topic with Milli. ¡°How much money do you have?¡± Sharla coughed, inhaling a piece of rice, clearly caught off guard by the bluntness of my question. Milli, however, didn¡¯t react immediately. Her eyes flashed¡ªshe was using her interface. After a moment, she looked up. ¡°I have 10,346.25 Crowns,¡± she said calmly. I choked on my food, gulping down water as I processed her exact and very precise response. She had actually gone into her interface to give me the number. ¡°Can I... borrow some to pay off the rest of the guild debt?¡± I asked, struggling to phrase the question diplomatically. Milli put a finger to her chin, pretending to think it over. ¡°Hmmm... no. You may not.¡± ¡°What the fuck, Milli?¡± I blurted, turning to Sharla for backup. To my dismay, Sharla was focused intently on her food, pretending not to hear. Milli¡¯s expression was one of serene innocence. ¡°Well, let¡¯s see. You¡¯re staying in my apartment, eating my food, and not even paying me for my services. I think I¡¯m already making the biggest contribution to this guild.¡± Sharla finally looked up, giving me an apologetic glance but saying nothing. Louis, ever the opportunist, decided this was the perfect moment to trot over to Milli¡¯s side and curl up on her lap like a smug little diplomat. I wanted to argue but I couldn''t find a flaw in what she had said, if it wasn''t for her, Sharla and I would probably still be sleeping in the tavern. Milli had also been a big part in how we had managed to earn as much as we had up to this point. I suddenly felt dirty and quickly apologised, eating the rest of my meal in silence and sent a message to Sharla.
Ryan: Thanks for the help there. Sharla: You''re welcome.
I decided to call it an early night and went to bed without showering. Chapter 12 That night, I had a dream. The velvety smooth voice of the quest narrator whispered sweet nothings to me as I lay with my head in her lap. Her fingers stroked my hair in soothing, rhythmic motions. Her face was obscured by the sun behind her, its golden light forming a halo that made her seem both celestial and unattainable. A warm breeze carried the scents of coconut and spices, blending into an intoxicating aroma. "You know you¡¯re my favourite, right?" she murmured, tracing her long, pointed nails over my lips. Her touch was gentle yet possessive, each stroke leaving a phantom tingle behind. "But you¡¯re taking too long. You need to push harder, my dear. You don¡¯t want me getting bored and finding a new plaything to be my favourite toy, do you?" The question sent an icy surge of fear through me. I tried to sit up, to speak, to reassure her that I would do anything to stay in her favour, but my body betrayed me. I was paralysed, my lips refusing to move. Panic clawed at my mind. "Maybe I¡¯m putting too much faith in you," she said, her voice growing colder. The soft caress of her fingers turned into an iron grip, her nails digging into my skin. The pain was vivid and real, jolting me as if to prove I wasn¡¯t dreaming this. "Don¡¯t disappoint me. I have many ways to entertain myself with my toys." I woke with a start, shooting upright in bed. My clothes and pillow were soaked with sweat. My skin still burned where her nails had pressed into me, though I knew it was just my mind playing tricks. I ran a trembling hand through my hair, my breath coming in shallow gasps. The voice. That damn voice. It had been narrating every quest we¡¯d taken, but over time, its presence had become less about the information and more about the sound. I craved it. Worse, I feared disappointing it¡ªher. Somewhere along the way, that disembodied voice had taken on a life of its own in my head. It was absurd. I knew that. She wasn¡¯t real, just a pleasant creation of the system to deliver notifications. And yet, the obsession had rooted itself deep. I kept hoping it would fade, but instead, it only grew stronger. I walked out into the common room, trying to shake off the lingering weight of the dream. Sharla was performing an impressive yoga pose, one leg extended high into the air while she balanced gracefully on the other. Her arm stretched out, steady as a tree branch. Beyond her, I noticed a cracked tile on the floor, and it reminded me of something I¡¯d forgotten. ¡°Aw, shit,¡± I muttered. ¡°Do you know what happened to Josh¡¯s warhammer? He gave it to me when I was blackout drunk the other night.¡± Sharla straightened up and turned to face me, her hands pressed together in a prayer gesture. ¡°Yes, I know what happened to it,¡± she said calmly. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I messaged him yesterday. He told me to keep it. Said he¡¯s camping out at the guild until he can find another class.¡± ¡°No way! Why haven¡¯t you been using it?¡± I asked, hopping over the back of the couch. ¡°Because, Ryan,¡± she said, cocking her hip to one side and planting a hand on it, ¡°I¡¯ve never used a warhammer before. I want to get some practice in before I go into battle with it.¡± ¡°Fair enough. Where¡¯s Milli?¡± I asked, glancing around. ¡°She was up early, off looking for crafting materials,¡± Sharla replied. After finishing the quest yesterday, we¡¯d finally cleared the guild debt, with two days to spare. I felt better than I had in ages. I had friends, no debt hanging over my head, and a growing sense of confidence. I opened the guild leader tab and saw the number: 650 Crowns in the treasury. A grin spread across my face. Before I could savour the moment, Sharla interrupted. ¡°Get up. We¡¯re training.¡± We cleared space in the common room and got to work. Sharla drilled me relentlessly on technique, correcting my form with sharp, insightful feedback. By the time we were done, I was drenched in sweat and leaning heavily on my pole. Catching my reflection in the apartment¡¯s glass windows, I did a double take. I had taken off my hoodie to keep from overheating, and for the first time in a while, I got a good look at myself. I almost didn¡¯t recognize the guy staring back at me. In just a week, the combination of fighting, training, and a strict diet of ration packs and tavern meals had transformed me. I had lost all my body fat, leaving me lean and toned. I wasn¡¯t muscular by any stretch¡ªmy chest was still shallow, and my abs were more "flat" than "washboard"¡ªbut I was in the best shape of my life. Sharla saw me gazing at my reflection in the window and threw my hoodie at me. ¡°Holy shit, put a shirt on, dude. You¡¯re making me uncomfortable. You look like you¡¯re about to make out with your reflection,¡± she chuckled. I caught the hoodie mid-air and pulled it on, a familiar sense of embarrassment creeping in. I laughed awkwardly to mask it and mumbled something about needing a shower as I headed to my room. Once inside, I stripped off the torn and battered clothes and stepped into the shower. The warm water cascading over me was a welcome relief after the morning¡¯s training. As I stood there, I opened the notification I¡¯d been saving. The smooth, velvety voice purred in my mind, wrapping around me like a warm blanket.
Quest complete! Pay Your Dues Description: My, my, my. You actually finished this one. I¡¯m so proud of you! I knew you¡¯d go out and bring home those big bucks. Now all you have left to do is repeat this over and over and over again until you die. But don¡¯t feel disheartened, love¡ªlet the knowledge that you¡¯re shaping up to be one of my favourite toys carry you through. Reward: No reward sorry honey.
Her voice sent a shiver down my spine, especially when she said the words "favourite toy." I hung on every syllable, feeling a thrill that I couldn¡¯t explain¡ªor ignore. The shower water ran over my back as I closed my eyes and replayed the notification in my head. I stayed there longer than necessary, letting the soothing combination of hot water and her intoxicating voice calm me. When I got out, I noticed just how bad my clothes had gotten. My hoodie was missing a sleeve and had a huge tear down the back, while my slacks were frayed at the cuffs and dotted with holes. I needed new gear. Deciding to use some of my recently earned Crowns, I resolved to go shopping and check out the street food I¡¯d been eying since my arrival. I stepped out of my room, now dressed and freshly clean. Sharla was curled up on the couch with a book in one hand and a cup of tea in the other, looking more relaxed than I¡¯d seen her in days. ¡°I¡¯m heading out to do some shopping,¡± I said. ¡°Should be back before midday.¡± ¡°Okay,¡± she replied, glancing up briefly. ¡°Ping me if anything happens.¡± She snuggled deeper into the couch, already absorbed back in her book. I withdrew 500 Crowns from the guild treasury and made my way downstairs. The tavern was bustling, as it always seemed to be. I waved to Josh, and Andrew, who were still trying to coax Fiona into stepping outside. From the look on her face, they weren¡¯t having much luck. Stepping onto the cobblestone streets, I inhaled deeply. The mingling smells of animals, sizzling food, and even the occasional whiff of iron from dried blood had become oddly comforting. I strolled toward a food stall that sold some tantalizing flatbread wraps I¡¯d been eyeing for days. The stall was run by a stout woman with a spectacular moustache, who greeted me with a warm, hearty voice. I ordered the largest wrap on the menu, surprised at how affordable it was¡ªjust half a crown. The smell was incredible, a savoury blend of spices and roasted meat. I couldn¡¯t identify everything inside, but I didn¡¯t care. When I took the first bite, the flavours burst in my mouth: juicy, spiced meat paired with fresh, crisp vegetables and tangy sauces. It was everything I¡¯d hoped for. Chewing happily, I wandered toward a nearby community board. While I had no intention of taking on any new quests without consulting Sharla and Milli, I wanted to scout some options for later. The board, as usual, was surrounded by a chaotic cluster of adventurers jostling for position. I joined the disorganised queue, slowly edging my way forward as I finished my wrap. After a few minutes of impatient shoving, I reached the board and started scanning it. As expected, the board was mostly filled with patrol quests. Goblins and wolves dominated the lower-tier options, while the higher-paying quests included clearing ogre camps or patrolling deeper into the surrounding forests. Collection quests were slim pickings, and the good ones had clearly been snatched up early. The only remaining options involved harvesting lake-dwelling insects¡ªa task I suspected everyone was avoiding because of the shadowy creature we¡¯d encountered there. After about ten minutes, the people around me began jeering, telling me to move along and make room for someone who actually planned to take a quest. I raised my hands in a gesture of surrender and stepped away, feeling their glares on my back. As I wandered down the street, a notification appeared in my interface. I opened it absentmindedly, and my heart skipped a beat as the message played in that familiar, irresistible voice
New Quest: Don''t Be a Tease Description: You¡¯re not going to leave me hanging like that, are you? I thought we had a good thing going after you finished that last quest early. What, are you getting sick of me already? You know what to do to make me happy¡ªgo get a quest and complete it before the day is over. I¡¯ll make it worth your while. Reward: 1 personalised message from Samantha.
My mind raced. My heart pounded, and a cold sweat broke out across my back. "Samantha? Was that her real name? Was she an actual person? Could she see me? Hear me?" My stomach was a churning mess of excitement, anxiety, and adrenaline. I had to find a way to complete this quest. Now. But how could I explain my sudden change of plans to the girls? I couldn¡¯t tell them the truth. The thought of admitting that I was doing this for the chance to hear the voice again mortified me. No, I couldn¡¯t involve them¡ªI needed to do this alone. Turning on my heel, I walked briskly back to the community board. I scanned the quests with frantic energy, seeking something simple, something quick, something I could handle on my own. My eyes landed on a quest to slay three goblins. Perfect. The patrol quests auto-adjusted their difficulty based on the number of participants and their relative strength, so I knew I should be able to handle it alone. I sent a quick message to Sharla.
Ryan: Hey, I¡¯m going to spend the day exploring the town. I¡¯ll catch up with you later!
With my cover story secured, I headed out through the eastern gate. My plan was to use a modified version of Milli¡¯s ¡°Siren Song¡± tactic. I¡¯d lure the goblins in using my Goblin Speech skill, then ambush them. This time, though, I¡¯d set a trap using a rope and one of the highlighted branches my Flaw Finder skill identified. The idea was to drop the branch on the first goblin, then blind the second one with one of the glowing coprolites¡ªwhat Milli had insisted we call the dung-stones. If everything went perfectly, I could take them down quickly without sustaining any injuries. It was risky, sure, but I was confident I could handle it. The forest was eerily quiet as I crouched in the undergrowth, waiting for my prey. Time ticked by. After about fifteen minutes, a group of four goblins came into view. My pulse quickened, but I stayed put. Four was too many¡ªI let them pass. Another twenty minutes crept by. I began questioning the wisdom of my plan. Was I being reckless? Maybe I should message Sharla and Milli. I could tell them I wanted to get some extra training in. They¡¯d believe me¡ªI¡¯d been vocal about wanting to level up. Before I could overthink myself into retreat, the sound of light footfalls broke the silence. My breath caught as two goblins ambled into view. I swallowed my fear, pushed the nagging voice of doubt deep into the back of my mind, and focused on the task at hand. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. This was my moment. ¡°This is too much loot for one goblin to carry! I wish I had some help!¡± I shouted in Goblin Speech. The words echoed into the woods, catching the attention of the pair I had let pass earlier. They stopped, turned to look at each other, and grinned¡ªa grotesque display of crooked, mismatched teeth. They began making their way back toward me, greed practically dripping from their movements. I tightened the rope around my hand, heart pounding as they approached the glowing coprolite I¡¯d marked as the trap zone. The two goblins stared at the glowing lump curiously, muttering to one another in their guttural language. Perfect. They stood directly under the branch I¡¯d rigged. My luck couldn¡¯t have been better. I yanked the rope hard, and the trap sprang into action. The branch let out a deafening ¡®CRACK¡¯ as it fell, the heavy wood smashing down on both goblins. One was impaled, sharp splinters piercing its torso and pinning it to the forest floor. It thrashed weakly, clawing at the branch in vain before it finally stilled, its grotesque form going limp. The second goblin fared slightly better. It caught a glancing blow to the head, the impact sending it sprawling into the dirt. The branch collided with the coprolite, sending a cloud of shimmering dust into the air. I waited for a moment, watching the creature¡¯s motionless form cautiously. The quest log had only marked one of them as defeated. Gripping my staff tightly, I approached the downed goblin. My breaths were shallow, the sour tang of adrenaline sharp on my tongue. With a few overhead strikes, I brought the staff crashing down onto its skull. The creature¡¯s head gave way with a sickening ¡®CRUNCH¡¯, spilling its contents across the leaf-litter. Bile rose in my throat at the sight, but I forced it down. I crouched down and began untying the rope. The knot had sunk into the dirt, and I was struggling to loosen it when I heard it¡ªa soft ¡®snap¡¯ of a twig behind me. I spun around just in time to see another goblin leaping toward me, screeching wildly. This is why we don¡¯t go out alone, the annoying little voice of reason in my head chimed in as the creature barrelled into me. Its bony arms wrapped around my neck in a chokehold, its oily skin sticking to mine as it bit into my shoulder. A fiery pain shot through me as its mismatched teeth tore into my flesh, sending jolts of agony down my arm and into my skull. I screamed, throwing myself backward. We hit the ground hard, my head slamming into the goblin¡¯s misshapen face. I felt its ribs crack under the impact, and its grip on me slackened. Scrambling to my feet, I clutched my wounded shoulder. Blood oozed through my fingers, but the halo of red in my vision wasn¡¯t as bad as I¡¯d feared. The goblin wheezed painfully on the ground, trying to recover. I didn¡¯t give it the chance. I kicked it¡ªhard. Then again. And again. My boots connected with its frail body, over and over, until my quest log finally acknowledged its death. Only then did I stop, my breath ragged, chest heaving. The pain in my shoulder ebbed as the faint red in my vision disappeared, and I stumbled back to my rope. Keeping my head on a swivel, I finished untying it and stashed it back into my inventory. The town walls were visible in the distance. Relief washed over me as I started down the road. I¡¯d done it. My quest was complete. I let my mind wander as I walked, giddy with anticipation. Samantha. Was she real? The thought consumed me. What would her message say? Could it be more than just words this time? My imagination painted vivid images of her¡ªbeautiful, mysterious, and entirely devoted to me. I knew it was foolish, but I couldn¡¯t help myself. I was so lost in my daydream that I didn¡¯t hear the footsteps behind me. The world went dark as a bag was thrown over my head. Pain exploded in the back of my skull, and the metallic ¡®twang¡¯ of a weapon rang out as I collapsed. Strong arms caught me before I hit the ground, locking me in a rear naked choke. I clawed at the arms holding me, desperate for air, but it was no use. My strength ebbed, the darkness growing heavier. In seconds, I was unconscious.
When I came to, I felt cold and wet. The rhythmic sound of water dripping onto stone filled my ears, and I realised someone was pouring water over my head. My eyes fluttered open, struggling to adjust to the harsh light. ¡°Hey there, sleepyhead,¡± said a terrifyingly familiar voice ¡ª it was Tim. WHAM A fist slammed into my jaw. Stars exploded across my vision, my teeth rattled, and my mouth filled with the coppery taste of blood. He¡¯s going to beat me to death for killing Oliver. The thought stabbed coldly. My head sagged as my body swayed weakly in the chair; I wasn¡¯t able to concentrate enough to send a message to Sharla. A strong hand gripped my chin, forcing my head back up, and a sharp slap started to bring me back to awareness. ¡°Oh no, no, no, don¡¯t you go falling asleep on me again,¡± the voice said angrily. Another splash of water shocked me fully awake. I blinked against the light and saw him¡ªTim. He was backlit by a bright, blinding source, casting the rest of the room into shadow. The murmur of voices surrounded me, and shadowy figures moved in the periphery. I tested my bonds, but my hands and legs were tied tightly to the chair. Tim hunched down, his face level with mine, his breath hot and foul. ¡°I heard what you did to Oliver,¡± he growled. WHOMP His fist drove into my stomach, knocking the wind out of me. I gasped, my lungs desperate for air, but he didn¡¯t give me a chance to recover. ¡°Now, I just wanted to kill you¡ª¡± WHAM Another blow sent the chair teetering, threatening to topple over. ¡°He attacked us! I didn¡¯t mean t¡ª¡± WHAM The chair lifted off the ground and crashed back down as another punch rocked me. My head hit the floor hard, my vision swimming with red. ¡°SHUT THE FUCK UP! YOU WILL SPEAK WHEN I TELL YOU TO SPEAK!¡± Tim screamed, kicking me repeatedly in the stomach. Pain radiated through my body, and my consciousness began to slip away when a deep voice intervened. ¡°Hey, boss wants him alive. Don¡¯t get carried away.¡± I couldn¡¯t see the speaker, my face pressed against the cold stone floor, my eye swollen shut and the world blurred by tears and blood. I felt something come loose in my mouth and I spat out a tooth Rough hands lifted the chair upright, placing me back into a sitting position. I sobbed openly, my mind racing with every clich¨¦ interrogation scene I¡¯d ever seen. This was it¡ªthe moment the boss walked in, said something ominous, and finished the job. ¡°Please don¡¯t kill me,¡± I choked out, tears mixing with blood as they streamed down my face. Tim and the other man walked away, their heavy boots echoing on the stone floor. A rhythmic knocking sound came from a wooden door, an unusual pattern that I couldn¡¯t focus on through the haze of pain. I noticed my quest log had updated¡ªcompleted¡ªand several unread messages were blinking in my interface. Desperately, I ignored them and sent out my own.
Ryan: Guys, you have to help me. Tim nabbed me. I don¡¯t know where I am. I think they¡¯re going to kill me.
Before I could read Sharla¡¯s response, footsteps approached. ¡°Please, please, please don¡¯t kill me,¡± I begged, my voice trembling. ¡°I don¡¯t have much money, but you can have it!¡± ¡°What the fuck, Tim?¡± said a new voice¡ªolder, gruffer, and tinged with authority. ¡°I told you to bring him to me, not beat him half to death.¡± Relief and fear warred within me as the voice¡¯s calm authority stilled the chaos in my mind. ¡°I am so sorry for my associate,¡± the man said, his tone apologetic but firm. I felt the cool lip of a glass bottle pressed to my mouth, and a thick, viscous liquid poured in. It tasted like overly sweet strawberry cough syrup, and as soon as it hit my tongue, a wave of warmth spread through me. The pain ebbed away, my swollen eye opened, and my wounds closed up. I sputtered, struggling to swallow the concoction. ¡°Oops, can¡¯t lose this,¡± the man said casually, tucking my lost tooth into my pocket. ¡°What do you want from me? Are you going to kill me?¡± I asked, my voice breaking. ¡°What? Kill you? No, nothing so dramatic,¡± the man replied with a chuckle. As my vision cleared, I saw him for the first time. He was older, his white-grey hair cropped short and neatly combed to the side. His dark tan skin was etched with deep lines that spoke of a hard life, but his steely blue eyes burned with an intense friendliness that was almost more unsettling than Tim¡¯s brutality. His linen shirt and dark cloth pants were pristine, his polished leather boots shimmering faintly with copper and silver¡ªclearly magical. He signalled to someone standing behind me, and I felt the pressure on my arms and legs ease as they loosened my bindings. The moment I was free, I made a desperate attempt to bolt, but strong hands like steel vices shoved me back into the chair. ¡°Whoa there, sport,¡± Edward said with a disarming smoothness, his tone that of a concerned grandfather. ¡°Let¡¯s slow things down a bit, huh? I think we got off on the wrong foot.¡± He leaned forward, extending a hand. ¡°I¡¯m Edward, but my buddies call me Ed for short.¡± His handshake was rough and firm, the kind that felt like it could crush bones if he wanted it to. ¡°I already know your name, but I¡¯m a firm believer in proper introductions. So tell me, what do your friends call you?¡± ¡°R-Ryan. My name¡¯s Ryan,¡± I stammered, the strong hands on my shoulders keeping me firmly planted in my seat. ¡°Ryan! Pleasure to meet you.¡± He released my hand and sat back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other with casual authority. ¡°I just wish it were under less... confrontational circumstances.¡± He gestured broadly, his face a mix of regret and amusement. ¡°First, let me apologise for the unpleasantness with my former friend Oliver. And for how Tim treated you. I can imagine you¡¯ve got the wrong idea about our merry little band. You see,¡± he continued, intertwining his fingers in a deliberate, firm motion, ¡°in our line of work, tensions can run high. People get wound up too tight¡ª¡± he twirled his fingers in a winding motion before miming an explosion¡ª¡°and sometimes they go off the reservation. But as I always tell my boys, there¡¯s no excuse for losing control.¡± His voice dropped into a soothing cadence as he leaned forward slightly, making his point. ¡°I promise, Ryan, I¡¯m going to have a little... chat with Tim. We¡¯ll see if we can¡¯t, ah, realign him.¡± He punctuated the word realign with a steely look, and I swallowed hard. ¡°W-What is it, exactly? Your line of work, I mean?¡± I managed to ask, my voice trembling. Edward didn¡¯t answer right away, instead fixing me with an amused grin. Then, to my surprise, he erupted into a hearty, echoing laugh. The sound bounced off the walls, followed by a chorus of laughter from the shadowy figures around us. ¡°Sorry,¡± he said, wiping a tear from his eye. ¡°If you¡¯d asked me that a month ago, I¡¯d have had to tell you it was classified. But I suppose none of that matters anymore.¡± He leaned back, his smile widening. ¡°I¡¯m a Lieutenant Colonel in the Australian Military. The gentlemen you¡¯ve been acquainted with? They¡¯re my men. We were out in the bush, running a cross-unit war game, when those bastards plucked us up and sent us here.¡± The moment I heard the military cadence in his voice, it clicked. His posture, his tone, his presence¡ªit all screamed rank and command. My eyes met his, and I could tell he saw the recognition in mine. ¡°You know,¡± he said, leaning in slightly, ¡°you remind me of my son. Did one of your parents serve?¡± I hesitated, leaning back to put some distance between us. ¡°My dad,¡± I admitted, my voice small. ¡°He was in the army.¡± ¡°No kidding! What¡¯s his name? Maybe I know him,¡± Edward said, flashing a toothy grin. ¡°Willson,¡± I lied smoothly. ¡°Staff Sergeant.¡± I leaned back further, trying to look casual but keeping my body tense. It was a name my parents had drilled into me to use in situations like this. My real last name, Nightingale, carried its own weight, especially on the base where my dad was head of military police. His rank of Captain had earned him few friends and many enemies among rowdy young soldiers. ¡°WILLSON!¡± Edward exclaimed, slapping his knee. ¡°You¡¯re pulling my leg! Your old man¡¯s a legend back on base. The stories I could tell...¡± He chuckled, shaking his head. I forced a laugh. ¡°Yeah, he¡¯s always been a bit of a troublemaker.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t I know it!¡± Edward said, grinning. The iron grip on my shoulders loosened slightly, though the hands stayed where they were. Edward leaned back, ¡°Ryan, I want you to know¡ªI don¡¯t hold anything against you for what happened with Oliver. You were protecting your friends, and I get that.¡± gesturing around the room with a broad smile. ¡°I¡¯d do anything for my boys. Hell, I consider them family.¡± A chorus of ¡°AWWWW¡± rose up from the men surrounding us, their teasing tone at odds with the tension hanging in the air. I felt a cold drip of liquid run down my back¡ªit might have been water, sweat, or blood. My mind was too clouded with fear and confusion to tell. "It would mean the world to me if we could just call it water under the bridge," Edward said, his voice syrupy with false charm. "Let bygones be bygones, you know? And, if you find it in your heart, I¡¯d love to work with you in the future. We¡¯ve got to stick together, don¡¯t we?¡± He clapped me on the shoulder, the weight of his hand heavy despite his smile. I forced a smile of my own, my face stiff. "I appreciate that, and yeah, totally. Like it never happened." "Wonderful!" Edward exclaimed, clapping his hands together with unsettling enthusiasm. "Now, I hope you understand¡ªoperational security is second nature to me, so we can¡¯t have you knowing the location of our base. My anxiety couldn¡¯t take it." He laughed as if he were sharing an inside joke only he found amusing. Then he nodded at the man behind me. A black bag was unceremoniously pulled over my head, and I tensed as the hands holding me down shifted to guide me out. I was marched through a labyrinth of hallways, upstairs, and through tight spaces where I had to crouch, my back aching as the minutes dragged on. The air shifted abruptly, and I felt sunlight warm my skin. We emerged into the forest, but the bag stayed over my head. They led me in a disorienting pattern¡ªzigzagging, backtracking, and doubling back until I was hopelessly turned around. Finally, after what felt like forever, the bag was yanked off. I blinked rapidly against the sudden brightness, my vision swimming. Two men stood in front of me, their faces obscured by bandannas and caps. One had a crude tattoo of a pin-up Marilyn Monroe on his tricep. They dropped my backpack and staff at the base of a tree, then silently melted back into the forest, leaving me standing alone. I picked up my belongings and checked my inventory. Everything was intact, though my hands shook as I did so. I pulled up the chat.
Milli: I¡¯ll shove my foot so far up his arse that if he has so much as a thought, it¡¯ll have to sneak past my toe ring!
Sharla was calmer, peppering me with questions as she tried to piece together where I was.
Ryan: I¡¯m fine, guys. I¡¯m just outside the eastern gate. I¡¯ll be back in five minutes.
The settlement walls loomed in the fading light as I trudged forward, the crust of dried blood cracking on my face and neck with each movement. My muscles ached, and every step felt like it dragged on forever. The moment I stepped through the gates, I saw Sharla round a corner. She spotted me, and her pace broke into a sprint. She threw her arms around me in a crushing hug, her breath shaky as she clung to me. Behind her, Milli came barrelling forward, her lacrosse stick gripped tightly in her hands, her eyes darting around like a hawk. ¡°Where are they?!¡± she barked, her voice a sharp contrast to Sharla¡¯s trembling silence. ¡°I¡¯ll show them what happens when they mess with my guild mate!¡± I tried to answer, but Sharla¡¯s hug pressed my face into her chest, muffling my voice. She pulled back to hold me at arm¡¯s length, her eyes scanning me with a motherly intensity. ¡°You¡¯re missing a tooth,¡± she said, her tone clinical as she took stock of my injuries. ¡°But you¡¯re otherwise fine.¡± Then, without warning, she pulled me into another hug. That did it. The dam broke, and I sobbed into her shoulder. Tears and snot mixed freely as I choked out, ¡°Can we go home, please?¡± Sharla tightened her hold briefly, then nodded. ¡°Let¡¯s go home.¡± We walked back together, Sharla keeping me close as Milli swung her stick menacingly at anyone who dared approach. She muttered threats under her breath, her paranoia palpable. Sharla draped a blanket over me, but I shrugged it off, though I let her keep an arm wrapped protectively around my shoulders. Inside the tavern, the familiar warmth of the Pit enveloped me, but my body remained tense until we reached the apartment. Once inside, Milli and Sharla bombarded me with questions. ¡°What happened? Where did he grab you? What did he do to you?¡± I waved them off. ¡°I just need a shower,¡± I said hoarsely, my voice cracking. I trudged to my room, the weight of the day hanging heavily on my shoulders. As the water ran over me, I felt the events of the past few hours crashing down like a wave. I¡¯d been helpless¡ªcompletely at the mercy of Tim and Edward¡¯s whims. The thought of Edward¡¯s saccharine smile sent a shiver down my spine. I knew he wasn¡¯t to be trusted. His charm was as thin as paper, barely covering the dangerous opportunist underneath. Something about him nagged at me, though. I sat on the floor of the shower and let the water run over my back, it ran a brownish red as it washed away the grime and gore that was caked on my skin. I checked my notifications and saw that I had levelled up my quarterstaff mastery and my ''Hazard Hunter'' skill. They each had information attached to them
Quarterstaff: Level 1 Hazard hunter: Level 1 Flaw Finder: Level 1
I closed them and saw that I had received another item, my personalised message, I played it, her sweet voice was like a balm. "Oh Ryan, you''ve been such a good boy..." Chapter 13 I couldn¡¯t sleep. My mind kept replaying what had happened with Edward and Tim, dissecting every detail for hours. The fear and sadness I¡¯d felt at first morphed into a smouldering anger, and finally, a deep-seated hatred¡ªthough not for Edward or Tim. No, my fury was directed at myself. Despite the restless night, I felt strangely fresh, likely a lingering effect of the healing potion they¡¯d given me. The stamina boost left me wide awake, even as dawn struggled to pierce the darkness outside. My body, however, felt lighter than the day before¡ªa deceptive ease I wasn¡¯t prepared to trust. I threw myself into training, harder than I¡¯d ever done before. My muscles screamed in protest, and sweat came off me in rivers. But I didn¡¯t stop. I wouldn¡¯t stop. When my body finally gave out and I collapsed onto the floor, I pounded it with my knuckles, the sharp pain cutting through the haze in my mind. ¡°Why the fuck are you so pathetic?¡± I hissed through gritted teeth, slamming my fist down again. Blood smeared across the tile, the split skin on my knuckles stinging as sweat dripped into the wounds. A sharp bark startled me, and I looked up to see Louis perched on the couch, his dark eyes fixed on me. Dawn¡¯s pale light spilled into the room, catching the soft sheen of his fur. He tilted his head in that curious, almost judgmental way of his, and I cursed under my breath. I thought I¡¯d have more time to work through the frustration before anyone else was awake. Louis hopped off the couch and trotted over, his claws clicking softly against the floor. ¡°If you¡¯d like, I could instruct you on the proper method for developing the Iron Fist skill,¡± he said evenly, his tone annoyingly polite. ¡°What?¡± I snapped, pushing myself upright. My legs trembled like jelly, and I felt the burn in every inch of my body. ¡°It¡¯s the only reasonable explanation for why you¡¯re attempting to break the floor tiles with your bare knuckles.¡± He tilted his head further, his canine expression oddly smug. I glared at him, not in the mood for his snark. ¡°Mind your own business. If I need your help, I¡¯ll ask for it.¡± I stomped over to the couch, dragging it back into place with an unnecessary amount of force. Louis let out an offended sneeze and scampered toward the doggy flap. ¡°Very well,¡± he said, disappearing through the small door. I cleaned up the bloodstain and headed for a shower, letting the hot water soothe my aching muscles. By the time I emerged, refreshed and slightly more grounded, Sharla was in the common area warming up. She noticed the stormy expression on my face and nodded. ¡°Hey,¡± she called out, her voice gentle but steady. ¡°Would you be up for sparring with me after I warm up?¡± Her question caught me off guard. I hesitated for a moment, flexing my hands and feeling the faint tingle of my knuckles healing. My muscles were already back to full strength, swelling in size making me feel strong and ready. ¡°You know what? Yeah, I think that¡¯d be good,¡± I said, heading to the breakfast bar to grab a quick bite. By the time Milli woke up¡ªuncharacteristically late¡ªwe were ready to head downstairs. The three of us made our way to the tavern¡¯s back lot, where fenced-off areas presumably held livestock deliveries. Sharla and I were discussing ground rules for sparring when Milli disappeared back inside. We started with slow, no-contact rounds to get a feel for each other¡¯s movements. Sharla was passionate and precise, explaining every motion in detail and throwing in historical anecdotes about the techniques she demonstrated. She¡¯d equipped her warhammer, wrapping the head in thick padding for safety. ¡°It¡¯s not about beating each other up,¡± she said, grinning. ¡°We pick out each other¡¯s flaws and improve. We¡¯ll take turns on offense and defence to keep it balanced.¡± After about fifteen minutes, Milli returned with two helmets. They were far more refined than the makeshift one she¡¯d cobbled together on our first quest. The helmets resized themselves to fit perfectly when we put them on, and they were surprisingly comfortable. ¡°Safe practice is good practice,¡± Milli quipped, hopping onto the fence railing to watch. The sparring started slowly, but soon we found a rhythm. Sharla¡¯s experience was clear in her every move, and I struggled to keep up. When it was my turn on offense, I went all in¡ªwild, frenzied attacks meant to overwhelm. Sharla handled them with ease, deflecting each strike like it was second nature. Then, with a sharp movement, she caught me with the hilt of her warhammer. Pain exploded across my forehead as a deep cut opened, blood streaming into my right eye and blinding me. I stumbled back, clutching my face, as Sharla dropped her warhammer and rushed to my side. ¡°Shit! Ryan, are you okay?¡± she asked, her voice tinged with panic. Milli was off the fence in an instant, her lacrosse stick forgotten as she ran to help. ¡°Hold still..¡± Sharla said, producing a cloth from her inventory to press against the wound. ¡°It¡¯s fine, just heal me. I want to keep going,¡± I said, pushing Sharla¡¯s hand away. Her face showed concern, but after a moment, she whispered a prayer, and the gash on my forehead closed up. I splashed water on my face to clean off the blood and moved back into position and Milli returned to her seat. Sharla hesitated as I advanced. My Flaw Finder skill highlighted a tangle of rope on the ground that she had stepped into. An opportunity. I got in close, hooked my foot into the loop, and kicked it backward while shoving her. The rope went taut, yanking her leg and throwing her off balance. She twisted, trying to break her fall, but came down hard on her open palm. She cried out in pain, cradling her wrist, and I saw a dark bruise forming beneath her skin. ¡°Shit, Sharla, I¡¯m sorry! Maybe we should take a break.¡± Milli was already rushing to her side, but Sharla waved her off, sitting up and flicking her hair out of her face. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± she said through clenched teeth, sucking in air as she tried to make a fist. ¡°I just need a few minutes before I can heal again.¡± She winced. ¡°Argh, I think it¡¯s broken.¡± She gave a wry chuckle, despite the obvious discomfort. ¡°You got me good there. Haven¡¯t eaten dirt like that in a long time.¡± I laughed nervously, guilt weighing heavily on me. But I couldn¡¯t ignore the rush of realisation: my movements felt smoother, more natural. My staff didn¡¯t feel awkward anymore, and I could chain together attacks with ease. My Flaw Finder skill had also become more responsive, highlighting opportunities almost instantly instead of taking precious seconds. The tripping manoeuvre had worked better than I¡¯d hoped. In a real fight, Sharla¡¯s broken wrist would¡¯ve been a fight-ending injury¡ªthough, with her healing, she¡¯d have been back in action before I could press the advantage. ¡°Can I have a go?¡± Milli asked, twirling her lacrosse stick in her hands like a baton. She was fast, far faster than Sharla, and much more aggressive. Every time I thought I had her cornered, she slipped away, following up with a quick jab from her lacrosse stick or hurling a clump of dirt at me before darting out of reach. She wasn¡¯t particularly strong, but she played the long game, wearing me down with relentless hit-and-run tactics. And it was working. As I started to slow, Milli seized the moment. She closed the gap, driving her shoulder into me and following up with an upward swing of her stick, stopping just millimetres from my temple. ¡°Gotcha,¡± she said with a grin, clearly pleased with herself. Her overconfidence got the better of her, though. In the next exchange, she overextended while exploiting a feigned opening. I grabbed her by the collar, lifted her off the ground, and slammed her down. The impact knocked the wind out of her, leaving her sprawling. ¡°Okay, let¡¯s call it there for a second,¡± Sharla said, hopping off the fence. Her wrist glowed faintly as she healed it, flexing her fingers with a relieved sigh. ¡°Milli, you good?¡± Milli raised a thumb in the air but didn¡¯t bother to get up. ¡°Yeah boss,¡± she croaked, still catching her breath. We rotated between resting, healing, and sparring for most of the morning, honing our techniques with each round. By the time we finished, we were all exhausted but satisfied. Heading back inside the tavern, we treated ourselves to a round of drinks and food. As we ate, Milli poked at one of the many holes in my hoodie. ¡°Your outfit is looking a bit... holey,¡± she teased. ¡°I can¡¯t have you wandering around representing our guild like that. I guess it can¡¯t be helped¡ªI¡¯ll lend you the funds. We¡¯re going to get you properly outfitted. You too, Sharla.¡± We both smiled at her generosity, though it wasn¡¯t lost on me that her own outfit somehow remained pristine. I¡¯d seen her take hits in combat, crawl through bushes, and yet there wasn¡¯t so much as a scuff on her tailored pantsuit. After finishing our meal, we headed into town in search of an armorer or blacksmith. It didn¡¯t take long, thanks to Sharla and Milli¡¯s maps. The first shop we found was Talon¡¯s Adventuring Outfitters. The storefront featured a noble-looking eagle painted on the window, its chestnut plumage and bright yellow eyes striking against the glass. Inside, a short female gnome worked at a sewing machine that looked comically oversized next to her. Her black hair was pulled into a messy bun, and she didn¡¯t look up as the bell above the door chimed. ¡°I¡¯ll be with you in just a second! Feel free to look around. Changing rooms are in the back!¡± she called out over the whir of the machine. The shop smelled of leather and fabric, a welcoming contrast to the blood and dirt we¡¯d grown accustomed to. Rows of adventuring gear lined the walls, each piece more enticing than the last. I let myself relax, excitement bubbling under the surface. We looked around the shop, which offered a collection of mostly cloth and leather pants, tunics, and cloaks in earthy tones of brown, olive green, and navy blue. I pulled a pair of dark pants off a rack and inspected them. They had knee pads sewn in and were reinforced with thick stitching. They looked like a snug fit, with a collection of pockets on the sides, back, and down the legs, giving off a utility vibe similar to the cargo pants I¡¯d seen Ed¡¯s men wearing. Curious, I headed into the changing area and tried them on. They fit perfectly¡ªsturdy but flexible, allowing for a full range of motion. As I squatted to test the fit, a dark grey shirt was draped over the door. ¡°Hey, try this on,¡± came Sharla¡¯s voice from outside, her tone reminding me of back-to-school shopping trips with my mum. The shirt was a long-sleeved tunic made of a linen fabric with the same strong-looking double stitching as the pants. It felt smooth and tear-resistant, its fibres tightly woven. I slipped it on, expecting it to be stifling, but it breathed surprisingly well. The fabric moved with me as I twisted and stretched. Satisfied, I stepped out to get Sharla and Milli¡¯s opinions. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. They were seated just outside the changing area. As soon as they saw me, they looked me up and down and made a synchronized ¡°Oooooo¡± sound. I rolled my eyes, feeling slightly ridiculous, like I was cosplaying in public. But I had to admit¡ªit was undeniably comfortable and practical compared to my torn-up hoodie and sweatpants. Bundling up my old clothes, I approached the gnome at the front desk. ¡°Is it okay if I leave these here?¡± She nodded absentmindedly, busy adjusting the tension on her sewing machine. Sharla picked out a similar shirt but opted for heavy leather pants that clung tightly to her legs. Milli paid the gnome, and we continued exploring other shops. While walking, I ducked into a leatherworking shop and found a vest that immediately caught my eye. It drained the last of my personal funds, and Milli had to chip in half a crown to cover the remainder, but it was worth it. The vest was sleeveless and form-fitting, made of dark grey leather reinforced with bands of metal sandwiched between layers around the chest, back, and shoulders. Small slit-like pockets on the sides provided storage for tools, and metal rings at the hips and shoulders allowed for attaching a quiver or other gear. Slipping it on, I felt like I was encased in a protective shell. I rolled up the sleeves of my shirt and noticed the toned muscles along my forearms, evidence of the last week¡¯s relentless training. We spent the better part of the day shopping. Sharla picked up a sturdy round shield, made of thick wood reinforced with iron bands, and slung it over her back. At a blacksmith¡¯s shop, she also found a set of greaves: leather bands riveted with strips of iron that attached around her waist like a belt, hanging down to protect her thighs and groin. We both bought bracers in the same splint-mail style, which wrapped snugly around our forearms. During our browsing, I struck up a conversation with Milli. ¡°Think you could make me one of those hidden blades like in Assassin¡¯s Creed?¡± She rolled her eyes, exasperated. ¡°You realise how cringe that sounds right?¡± Still, she assured me she could craft a custom bandolier for a fraction of the shop prices, so we left with some tanned leather instead. I did convince her to let me buy a dark green cloak, though. It had a built-in hood and a scarf that could double as a dust shield¡ªessential if I planned on using coprolite bombs frequently. To round out the day, we splurged on a chainmail shirt for Sharla. The price made Milli¡¯s eyes water. ¡°Yup,¡± she choked out, her voice strained. ¡°Looks great. Very functional.¡± After that, Milli pulled the plug on our shopping spree, and we headed back to the tavern. When we arrived at the Pit, Josh, Andrew, and Fiona were already there. They looked like they¡¯d been out on a quest, which surprised me. Josh was carrying a gnarled staff and wearing a hooded cloak over his button-up shirt, a strange blend of medieval and modern that somehow suited him. We made our way over and joined them at their table. ¡°Dang, you guys are looking like you just stepped out of Skyrim!¡± Andrew joked, gesturing at Sharla and me. ¡°They¡¯d better,¡± Milli cut in with mock indignation. ¡°I have next to nothing left in my personal accounts! We¡¯re going to be hitting the quests hard tomorrow, and you two are going to pay me back every single crown.¡± She sent both of us invoices through our private chat, and her glare suggested that late payments would come with consequences. ¡°You¡¯d break our legs if we didn¡¯t pay you back, wouldn¡¯t you?¡± I teased. Milli gave me an annoyed look, her eyes narrowing. ¡°Try me.¡± We all laughed, but I felt a chill of sincerity beneath her jest. ¡°Hey, I paid for my vest,¡± I said defensively. ¡°That¡¯s why it¡¯s not on the invoice,¡± she shot back. Josh went to the bar to grab drinks and food for the group. He and Andrew always insisted on footing the bill when we hung out. Milli, despite her earlier financial rant, had grown used to it and didn¡¯t hesitate to make specific requests for her favourite drinks and snacks. As we waited, Andrew explained that Josh had managed to get a magic-based class called Street Magician from the guild. It allowed him to infuse spells and effects into projectiles and create small illusions like sounds or images. It sounded versatile but heavily range-focused¡ªa potential weakness I decided not to mention aloud. Josh returned with our drinks and sat down, his staff resting against the table. Sharla leaned forward, clearly intrigued. ¡°How¡¯d it go with the new class?¡± ¡°Not too bad,¡± Josh said, shrugging. ¡°But Fiona was the real MVP. I almost got a dagger to the eye, and she saved my ass with some kind of protection spell.¡± Fiona smiled faintly, her shoulders rising a little as if shrugging off the praise, but there was a flicker of pride in her eyes. As Josh and Sharla launched into a discussion about maintaining the warhammer he¡¯d given her, Milli scooted closer to Andrew. They spoke in hushed tones, and I decided to leave them to it. That left me sitting across from Fiona, who looked significantly more relaxed than the first time we met. Her long hair was tied back in a neat braid, revealing a beauty mark under her left eye that I hadn¡¯t noticed before. Her sunburned skin had started to fade, though her tan lines were still stark. She wasn¡¯t particularly talkative at first, but when I mentioned that I¡¯d just finished reading Dune and was disappointed that I¡¯d probably never get to read the sequel, her face lit up. ¡°You¡¯re a fan too?¡± she asked, suddenly animated. ¡°I¡¯ve read all the books, seen every adaptation, and even have a signed copy of the third book. Frank Herbert is a genius!¡± For the next five minutes, Fiona ranted enthusiastically about the series. I nodded along, letting her passion pull me into her favourite world. It was refreshing to see her so engaged, and I felt myself relaxing in her company. Eventually, I noticed that Milli and Andrew had slipped away from the table. Scanning the room, I couldn¡¯t spot them anywhere
Ryan: Hey Sharla, did you see where Milli and Andrew went?
She glanced at me from across the table and raised an eyebrow, then sent a message back.
Sharla: Please tell me you¡¯re not serious.
As I read her response, realisation dawned, and my face flushed with embarrassment. Of course. Not long after, Josh and Fiona said their goodbyes, and Sharla and I headed back to the apartment. When we reached the door, I knocked loudly and waited a few seconds before opening it. The room was empty, save for Louis curled up on the couch, pretending to be asleep. Guilt prickled at me as I walked over and scratched behind his ears. He didn¡¯t say a word, just leaned into my hand and arched his back. ¡°I¡¯ll get you something nice tomorrow, buddy,¡± I murmured. ¡°Promise.¡± Louis let out a soft sigh, and I decided that a good cut of meat for him would be the first thing on my list tomorrow¡ªif I could afford it. As I climbed into bed, I noticed it was just past midnight. A new quest notification glowed softly in my interface, and I saw that my guild dues had been deducted automatically. The treasury now sat at a manageable -950 Crowns, a relief compared to the crushing debt we''d faced days before. Settling in for the night, I went into my inventory and selected the personalised message from Samantha. The voice that followed was as intoxicating as ever, and I savoured every word. By the time it ended, I was smiling like an idiot, my thoughts swimming with possibilities. Exhaustion finally won out, and I drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The next morning, I got up to find Milli and Andrew sitting together at the breakfast bar, sharing a plate of food and talking in low, sweet tones. Occasionally, they''d laugh softly, leaning toward one another. ¡°So that¡¯s a thing that happened,¡± I muttered under my breath. Sharla emerged from her room a few minutes later, looking like she''d already picked up on the awkward energy in the room. Without a word, we went through our morning exercise routine together in the common area. ¡°I think I¡¯m going to start working out at night too,¡± I said, finishing a set of staff movements and trying to keep my mind off the obvious. ¡°There is such a thing as overtraining, you know,¡± Sharla said, not looking up as she moved her warhammer through slow, deliberate arcs. A giggle erupted from Milli, and when I glanced over, I saw Andrew whispering something into her ear. She laughed again and leaned in, their lips meeting in a kiss. Sharla stiffened, looking just as uncomfortable as I felt.
Sharla: Hey, did you want to take this outside? We could spar for a bit and then go pick up a few quests? Ryan: Oh God, yes.
We left the lovebirds behind and headed out to the back of the tavern. Sparring with Sharla was exhilarating. Though I¡¯d grown more confident with my staff, Sharla¡¯s warhammer posed a unique challenge. Initially, we were evenly matched, but as we continued, her superior footwork and positioning created a noticeable gap. By the end of the session, I could tell she¡¯d hit her stride with the weapon. I couldn¡¯t help but admire her natural adaptability. After cooling down, we went to the quest board and picked up our reliable goblin- and wolf-slaying quests. I suggested adding a collection quest near the lake. ¡°I want to stockpile that glowing poop. It¡¯s crazy how useful I¡¯m finding it,¡± I said when Sharla raised an eyebrow at my choice. She wrinkled her nose but relented. ¡°If you say so. But I¡¯m not going anywhere near the water.¡± On our way back to grab Milli, we saw her heading toward us, practically skipping down the road. She waved enthusiastically, her smile brighter than usual. ¡°Hi, guys!¡± she called, falling into step beside us. Sharla opened her mouth to say something but stopped, seemingly deciding against it. ¡°No Andrew? I thought we¡¯d need the jaws of life to separate you two this morning,¡± I teased, nudging her. Milli straightened up, smile still intact. ¡°Don¡¯t be gross. He had to go meet up with Josh and Fiona. They¡¯re heading out on a quest near the northern gate,¡± she said, gesturing with a flourish in that direction. We sent her the quest invite and headed to the western gate. Milli¡¯s good mood was infectious. She didn¡¯t even bat an eye when I told her we¡¯d be stopping by the lake for more coprolite. ¡°Sounds like a plan,¡± she said, chipper as ever. I decided to let her enjoy her high.
Our first encounter of the day was a group of four goblins. To our surprise, we handled them with ease. Sharla¡¯s warhammer had a hidden buff we hadn¡¯t noticed before: an area-of-effect prayer that boosted our damage output. As she recited the words etched into the handle, a faint golden light radiated from the weapon, invigorating us. The goblins didn¡¯t stand a chance. Milli and I dispatched them effortlessly, barely breaking a sweat. Buoyed by our newfound strength, we decided to try a riskier strategy. Milli came up with the plan: she¡¯d sit on the road pretending to be injured, luring goblins toward her. Sharla and I would hide further down the road, ready to ambush them from behind. Sharla hesitated at first, her protective instincts kicking in. ¡°This is reckless,¡± she said, crossing her arms. ¡°You two are acting like overconfident newbies.¡± ¡°Come on, Sharla,¡± Milli said, rolling her eyes. ¡°We¡¯re not helpless. Stop babying us.¡± The plan had worked well enough, though Milli''s wailing had been loud enough to make me wonder if she was trying to summon every goblin within a kilometre. Sure enough, two groups came to investigate: one from up the road and another from the forest. The goblins surrounded her quickly, but Sharla and I made short work of the ones on the road, clearing a path to Milli. To her credit, she avoided getting tagged by the remaining goblins and even managed to take one out on her own before we reached her. After the fight, Sharla scolded Milli for overdoing the lure, and Milli, surprisingly, agreed without argument. We repeated the play twice more, each time taking out the goblins with ruthless efficiency. By the end of the morning, we¡¯d racked up 18 goblin kills. From the last group, we collected bait for the wolves and moved on to the next location. I couldn¡¯t help but marvel at how smoothly we worked together. It was as if our sparring sessions had clicked us into a unified fighting force. Without needing to communicate, we instinctively covered for each other''s gaps. The improvement felt unearned. I couldn¡¯t shake the thought that there might be some hidden "teamwork" skill or synergy bonus at play, but I filed it away for later. The wolves were just as straightforward to deal with. In less than an hour, we brought down eight of them. Afterward, we headed to the lake to gather the specific flowers we needed, staying vigilant for any unexpected visitors from the water or the forest. While Sharla and Milli focused on collecting flowers, I painstakingly scoured the area for coprolite. By the time we were done, I¡¯d amassed nearly 200 glowing lumps. By lunchtime, we were back at the settlement gates with all our quests completed. I did some quick calculations in my interface. After paying off the guild debt, we¡¯d have nearly 4,300 Crowns left in the treasury. Milli, ever the treasurer, had already drawn up a payment plan for Sharla and me. Each of us handed her 2,000 Crowns, settling most of what we owed her. She joked about charging us interest but quickly took it back when she caught the look I gave her. As we approached the town gates, I noticed a man leaning against a tree just off the road. A jolt shot up my spine when I realised it was Tim. Sharla and Milli noticed him at the same time, instinctively moving to shield me. I pushed past them.
Ryan: I want to hear what he has to say. You two keep an eye out¡ªmake sure this isn¡¯t a setup.
Tim straightened as we approached, walking stiffly toward us before stopping about six feet away. He raised his left hand in a rigid salute, his right arm ending abruptly in a cleanly severed stump. His left eye was clouded over, and his face was a network of silvery scars. He didn¡¯t meet my eyes, instead staring past us into the distance. ¡°I have come to apologise for my conduct,¡± he said, his voice flat and emotionless. ¡°It was unbecoming, and I ask for your forgiveness.¡± He stood at attention, fixed in a salute, feet together, right arm at his side, waiting for a response. ¡°Go fuck yourself,¡± Milli said coldly, her grip tightening on her crosse. She looked like she was ready to swing it at him. ¡°Hey, calm down,¡± I said, raising a hand. Sharla gave me a wary look but stayed silent. ¡°We don¡¯t need enemies if we can avoid it.¡± Turning back to Tim, I said, ¡°I accept your apology. Give my regards to Ed.¡± Tim didn¡¯t react. He simply lowered his arm, turned sharply, and walked into the tree line without another word. ¡°Well, that was fuckin¡¯ weird,¡± Milli muttered, staring after him. I didn¡¯t respond, choosing instead to walk silently through the gates. The guards¡ªa group of stoic capybaras¡ªwatched us with mild curiosity. I noticed one of them eyeing me, clearly trying to assess what had just happened. To them, Tim was nothing more than a bandit to be killed on sight if he tried to enter the settlement. The fact that he¡¯d figured out a way to bypass detection was unsettling. Edward didn¡¯t strike me as someone who would set up shop in the wilderness, so Tim had to have found a hole in the defences. "Problems for later," I muttered to myself as I crossed the threshold and let the weight of the encounter settle into the back of my mind. Interlude The morning after the Selection was unnaturally quiet. Cities once alive with the noise of daily life now moved with muted purpose under the weight of occupation. Alien vessels hovered above major population centres like harbingers of a new era, their silent dominance a stark reminder of humanity¡¯s swift fall. The world''s governments had crumbled almost instantly, leaving people adrift in an unrecognisable reality. Ryan¡¯s family had been transported to a re-education facility, a massive, gleaming structure that rose where the council building once stood. The halls smelled sterile, like antiseptic and steel, and were dotted with screens displaying the same looping footage: smiling human faces working alongside the invaders, their voices filled with the scripted cheer of assimilation. In their assigned room, the tension hung thick in the air, suffocating and oppressive. Massive screens filled each wall, broadcasting live feeds of chaotic battles unfolding in a dense, alien forest. The terrain was unforgiving, its twisted trees and unnatural flora casting ominous shadows over the desperate fighters below. Terrified and desperate, people clashed with monstrous creatures far beyond their understanding or capability. One by one, they fell. The screams of the dying, raw and unrelenting, merged with the guttural roars of the beasts, creating a symphony of carnage that filled the room. Blood slicked the forest floor, painting it a dark, crimson red, while the alien creatures tore through human bodies with savage efficiency. There was no escape from the nightmare displayed on the screens, no reprieve from the relentless horror of the slaughter. The walls glowed with the haunting light of carnage¡ªbattle after battle, death after death, played on an endless loop. The counter in the corner ticked down like a macabre metronome, a grim tally of the lives extinguished. One of the kids in the room broke under the weight of it. They slid to the floor, trembling, their hands clamped tightly over their ears as if trying to block out the shrieks of agony and the guttural roars of monsters. Tears streamed down their face, their muffled sobs adding a heartbreaking undertone to the cacophony from the screens. In the corner of each feed, a counter ticked down relentlessly. It had begun at a staggering 700 million¡ªthose chosen to participate in ¡°The Tithe.¡± Now, less than 600 million remained. Over a hundred million lives lost in just twenty-four hours. The number was incomprehensible, a horrifying reminder of the sheer scale of the slaughter. The initial "occupation" had been anything but peaceful. Swarms of spherical drones, each no larger than a tennis ball, descended upon the world¡¯s cities. At first, humanity resisted, fighting back with everything they had. It was a futile gesture lasting mere hours. The drones carried an arsenal of advanced weaponry, their most horrifying tool being a neuro-disruption pulse capable of shutting down brain function in an instant. Victims would collapse, their bodies alive but, unresponsive. Those subjected to the full force of the attack bled from their eyes, ears, nose, and mouth¡ªa grotesque spectacle that left even hardened fighters frozen in horror. The resistance crumbled under the weight of this unstoppable force. The drones did not tire, did not falter. They swept through the cities and towns like a plague, systematically subduing or exterminating anyone who dared oppose them. The killing, however, was only half the strategy. The other half was psychological warfare, an unceasing barrage of propaganda streamed directly into the minds of every human being via the newly installed ¡°interface.¡± Voices of celebrities, trusted leaders, and icons of every culture and creed spoke soothingly, encouraging compliance and submission. Whether these figures were real or mere simulations was irrelevant¡ªtheir words dissolved the last vestiges of willpower like acid. Faced with this two-pronged assault¡ªmerciless drones on one side and psychological manipulation on the other¡ªhumanity had no chance. Those who remained could only watch as the Tithe counter dropped, powerless to stop the carnage. In the room, no one spoke. There was nothing to say. Every tick of the counter marked another death. Another life erased. And they all knew¡ªthe clock wasn¡¯t stopping anytime soon. Ryan''s father sat rigid on a bench, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. His wife stood near the small window, staring out at the horizon, where alien machinery was already reshaping the landscape. ¡°It¡¯s your fault he¡¯s gone,¡± his voice broke the silence, rough and low, like gravel. She turned to him, her face pale but calm. ¡°You don¡¯t mean that.¡± ¡°The hell I don¡¯t,¡± he snapped, standing abruptly. His frame loomed in the small space as he pointed a trembling finger at her. ¡°You¡¯re the one who voted for him, how could you do that to your own son!¡± This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. His voice cracked with the weight of his fury and grief. ¡°Now he¡¯s¡ª¡± His words faltered, and he turned away, sitting down again, gripping the edge of the bench until it groaned under the pressure. "I won¡¯t give up on him" ¡°We don¡¯t even know where he is,¡± his mother said, her voice trembling but steady. ¡°Or if he¡¯s alive.¡± ¡°He¡¯s alive,¡± Ryan¡¯s father said, turning back to her. His jaw was set, his eyes blazing with a determination that bordered on madness. ¡°And I¡¯m going to get him back.¡± ¡°How?¡± she asked, her tone sharp. ¡°Look outside. They¡¯ve won. There¡¯s nothing left.¡± ¡°For now,¡± he said, his voice dropping into a growl. ¡°But this isn¡¯t over. I¡¯ll play their game, bow my head, do whatever it takes to stay alive. But the first chance I get¡ª¡± He paused, breathing heavily. ¡°I¡¯ll find him. I¡¯ll bring him back. And I¡¯ll make them pay for what they¡¯ve done.¡± The room fell into silence again, the hum of distant alien machinery the only sound. One of Ryan¡¯s cousins finally spoke, her voice small. ¡°Do you really think he¡¯s okay?¡± Ryan¡¯s father softened slightly, sitting down beside her and placing a hand on her shoulder. ¡°He¡¯s strong,¡± he said quietly. ¡°He¡¯ll be okay. And so will we.¡± Outside, the world continued to shift and change under the invaders¡¯ watchful eyes, the remnants of humanity folding into their new reality. The tension in the room was thick, the silence punctuated only by the grotesque sounds of the live broadcast. On the walls, massive screens displayed grisly feeds of battles, players fighting against monstrous creatures with horrifying brutality. Blood flowed, bodies fell, and the numbers in the corner of each screen ticked down relentlessly. The feed abruptly cut to a brightly lit studio, where three alien commentators sat at a sleek, glass desk. The first, a lanky blue-skinned creature, resembled a humanoid toad covered in swamp-green growths. Its wide amphibian mouth revealed translucent, needle-like teeth as it spoke, its voice deep and resonant. ¡°Hello, folks! Welcome back to the show. We¡¯re joined today by Jroknar and Gloobshite, two graduates of previous Tithes.¡± It gestured to it¡¯s left. ¡°We also want to give an enthusiastic greeting to the people of Earth¡ªthe newest members of our galactic family. May your assimilation be swift and painless. We have an especially bloody show ahead of us as we review the initial encounters for Earth¡¯s selected participants. Let¡¯s jump in with a spicy selection.¡± A smaller screen popped up, showing an ogre roaring as it burst the eardrums of a group of players. The monstrous creature then tore its victims apart, stomping the remains into the blood-soaked dirt. ¡°Oh, oh! Look at that one!¡± it croaked, a loose flap of skin beneath its chin inflating like a bullfrog. ¡°You know, I personally think the ogre mobs are underappreciated.¡± ¡°Crroooaakk,¡± the toad punctuated, clearly thrilled by the carnage. Seated beside it was a stout, heavyset figure with a broad, scarred face. His thick blond beard was woven with small bones, and a glittering metal clasp secured his man-bun. The third commentator was a grotesque, green-skinned being with mismatched ears¡ªone pointed, the other a torn nub¡ªand a flat, smashed nose. Its mouth, too crowded with a chaotic assortment of jagged teeth, made it impossible to fully close, resulting in a sneering, guttural voice. ¡°These humans are nothing more than sacks of meat to be hunted and devoured like livestock!¡± the green-skinned creature spat. The bearded figure turned, smirking. ¡°Salty because your kind got stuck being the fodder mobs this round, eh, Gloobshite?¡± ¡°Silence, you pathetic lump of gristle! Your kind isn¡¯t even worth eating!¡± Gloobshite snarled back. Ignoring their bickering, the toad creature leaned forward eagerly. ¡°Well, slap my thorax and call me a tadpole! That one just took down a dire wolf! Let¡¯s rewind and take a closer look at this unexpected turn of events.¡± The main screen shifted to show a young man in a hoodie staggering toward a hulking, hooded figure. The toad gestured toward a glowing hexagonal emblem in the corner of the screen. ¡°Wait, is that a harlequin? Premium subscribers, focus here to access a full breakdown on the Harlequin Consortium. And trust me, you¡¯ll want to¡ªthis one¡¯s got layers.¡± The shift in tone caught Ryan¡¯s father¡¯s attention. Until now, he¡¯d been trying to tune out the macabre spectacle, but his head snapped up as the camera zoomed in on the young man¡¯s face. ¡°Ryan!?¡± he gasped, standing suddenly. Others in the room turned their attention to the screen, murmurs rising as they recognized him. The other two commentators were dragged off-screen mid-argument, leaving the toad creature to take over. ¡°Would you look at that!¡± it exclaimed, voice brimming with excitement. ¡°He doesn¡¯t even know it, but our boy here just earned himself a rare prize. The Harlequins aren¡¯t going to like losing one of their preferred classes to a fresh player. This is going to be delicious to watch unfold!¡± Ryan¡¯s father stared, helpless as the scene replayed. The dire wolf fight was over in seconds but dissected in agonising detail. Frame by frame, the toad analysed Ryan¡¯s desperate manoeuvres, culminating in the brutal moment when he drove a metal rod through the beast¡¯s skull from within it¡¯s mouth. The tension in the room thickened as Ryan collapsed from his injuries. The broadcast shifted to another group of players, the dire urgency of Ryan¡¯s condition unresolved. Ryan¡¯s father stood, anxiety and helplessness consuming him. His wife sat on the edge of her cot, face blank with shock, but he ignored her. Bitterness flared within him. He wasn¡¯t ready to forgive her¡ªnot yet. A sudden hiss interrupted the room. A hidden panel slid open, and a tennis ball-sized drone floated in, its mechanical voice cold and precise. ¡°You are required to undergo assessment and classification. Please follow me and refrain from violent action. Lethal force is authorized for noncompliance.¡± The occupants froze, the memory of the drone¡¯s capabilities still fresh in their minds. None dared to resist. Quietly, they rose and followed the floating sphere into the unknown. Chapter 14 Over the next few weeks, our group fell into a reliable and productive rhythm: wake up, train, eat, complete a handful of quests, and finish the day with sparring sessions back at the tavern. Each of us steadily improved, honing our skills and tightening our teamwork. Despite the monotony, the grind was fruitful, and the growth in all our abilities was undeniable. One morning, a new quest notification appeared in my interface. My heart skipped a beat when I realised who it was from.
New Quest: Out of the Rut Description: You''ve been a bit vanilla lately, my little toy. There are only so many ways a girl can watch a goblin or a wolf be slaughtered. I am craving something new and exciting. I''m shaking with anticipation to see what you''re going to find for me. Please Try and make it interesting. Reward: Something Special
The personalised messages had become an unsettling addiction. Every time I received one, Samantha¡¯s velvety voice reverberated in my mind, rekindling my obsessive curiosity about her. Still, this quest posed a new challenge¡ªone I was all too eager to accept. I also needed something fresh, a change to shake things up a bit. I had started to crave progress. My body had become hard from exercise, and my training had moved on from simple drills to encompass difficult, complex combinations. I could finally relate to those ¡°grindset¡± influencers I used to joke about. I couldn¡¯t get enough of a challenge, but Sharla and Milli insisted that we take it slow. Milli and Andrew¡¯s relationship settle down after the first two weeks, they had finally stopped being ¡°that¡± couple, the kind which seemed incapable of keeping off one another. She had also started insisting we adopt a day-on, day-off schedule to allow for more socialisation, and we¡¯d been helping Josh¡¯s team with quests more frequently. Sharla noted that her skill progression had slowed down and that she had somehow become bored of the kinds of quests we¡¯d been doing. It was perfect timing to suggest to Milli and Sharla that we push ourselves further. Edward''s group, meanwhile, had been busy. They spent most of their time helping weaker players complete quests in exchange for keeping the magical items. Milli''s networking with other adventuring parties revealed mixed opinions: while Edward''s people were clearly skilled, their intentions remained ambiguous. Despite the nagging suspicion that Edward wasn''t to be trusted, we couldn''t deny the positive buzz surrounding his men. Thankfully, Tim had disappeared entirely, and we hadn¡¯t seen him since his unsettling apology. Milli had estimated that there were roughly 20¨C30 thousand people in the settlement who were part of the selection. She had done some kind of math to estimate the original number and landed on about 50 thousand, or thereabouts. The whole exercise seemed like guesswork to me, but she seemed confident enough to trust her. We continued grinding goblins and wolves, both of which seemed to multiply no matter how many we dispatched. For leveling, it was ideal¡ªif a bit repetitive. Milli had advanced to level 3 in her gadgetry and "Made at Home" skills, and she began producing increasingly creative ammunition for her sling. Andrew had also started using the effect arrows she crafted, further building her reputation among other adventurers. Sharla had power-levelled her warhammer skill to level 3. However, her shield skill lagged behind at level 2 since she rarely used it. Her healing skill had also stagnated; we¡¯d grown too proficient to need frequent healing in combat. My progress was slower, though still steady. My quarterstaff skill reached level 2, and while it was still a grind, it now included a crush damage bonus against unarmoured opponents. A direct hit could reliably shatter bone if aimed correctly. Sparring with Sharla twice a day and adding nighttime workouts to my routine had noticeably filled out my frame. My arms and shoulders had grown muscular, and my endurance had skyrocketed. My Hazard hunter skill was still at level 1, finding chances to use it were rare and often required unnecessary risks to get off. Sharla attributed this to the passive healing factor, which allowed us to train beyond human limits. I chalked it up to cartoonish anime logic, but I couldn¡¯t deny the results. When I showed the new quest to Milli and Sharla, I framed it as an opportunity to grow stronger. It wasn¡¯t a lie¡ªcomplacency was creeping in, and we needed to step out of our comfort zone. We had built up a respectable financial buffer in the guild treasury, enough to last weeks without taking any quests, but that wasn¡¯t an excuse to stagnate. Even Louis was reaping the benefits of our success. What began as an indulgence¡ªa prime cut of beef to fulfill a personal promise¡ªhad turned into a nightly ritual of gourmet meals for the dog. He now refused anything less, and his smug satisfaction at dinnertime became a running joke. Sharla commissioned a blacksmith to create her dream cuirass, using a design she and Milli had sketched together. It was simple and sturdy, but there were subtle alterations that made it unique. The most noticeable difference was a gilded sun setting into an azure ocean right above her heart. Milli also kept her promise to craft me a set of bandoliers, which quickly became a staple of my gear. She even threw in a pair of fingerless gloves, calling them a ¡°bonus for a loyal customer.¡± The pockets were loaded with coprolite¡ªnow my go-to utility item for smokescreens, and blinding attacks. After weeks of waiting, I convinced Milli to let me purchase the beginner module bundle for my interface. Finally, I had access to the same tools as the others, and I spent the better part of a day customizing my layout to perfection.
Achievement: Fusspot Description: You spent 3 hours making your interface just right. You do realize the goblins are still out there, right? Reward: Interface theme pack
The system seemed to slow down drastically in awarding Achievements; I could go days without earning one. The theme pack I¡¯d unlocked allowed me to customize my interface with a modern minimalist aesthetic. I set my mini-map to sit neatly in the bottom right, while other components became simple, unobtrusive icons that only bounced briefly when they needed attention before disappearing. It felt clean, efficient, and just a bit more like ¡°home.¡± Louis had elaborated on the mysterious ¡°filters¡± that cordoned off the roads leading out of the forest. These barriers, he explained, were designed to prevent players too weak from progressing into more dangerous zones. When I asked what stopped people from simply staying in the starting area indefinitely, he explained another clever system mechanic: monsters around the settlement would grow in strength to match the players in the area. Eventually, the difficulty would escalate to a point where survival would require forming a massive group¡ªor moving on. We¡¯d already begun noticing this ourselves. The quests had grown tougher: larger groups of monsters now seemed common, and single targets like ogres, trolls, and cave bears were becoming regular fixtures on the quest board. Louis was frustratingly vague when I asked how he knew the northern filter was the easiest. He simply deflected, but his reluctance intrigued me. Merchants passing through the northern filter described something unusual: a goblin circus. They said it blocked the road, allowing passage only to those with a merchant''s medallion and also willing to pay the toll. At least ten adventuring parties had gone to investigate this "circus" over the past two weeks¡ªand none had returned. Part of me was curious about the mystery, but I wasn¡¯t eager to add my name to the list of disappearances. Instead, we decided to tackle a troll reported to be holed up in a cave south of the settlement. Andrew''s party agreed to team up with us for the quest. I hesitated to involve them, worried it might complicate my chance at earning another personalised message from Samantha. She was¡­ particular¡­ when it came to those personalised quests. I tried to argue against splitting the experience and loot, but Milli and Sharla started growing suspicious, so I quickly dropped the subject. Josh, Andrew, and Fiona met us at the southern gate, eager¡ªwell, mostly eager¡ªto help. Fiona needed some convincing, but her teammates eventually brought her around. We created a group chat to go over strategies.
Ryan: We¡¯ll stake out the cave, and Josh will use his illusions to lure the troll out. I¡¯ll Identify it with my module and find its weaknesses. If we¡¯re equipped to deal with it, we¡¯ll plan our approach before going in. If not, we¡¯ll regroup in town and try again this afternoon.
I phrased my plan carefully. The quest deadline meant it had to be completed by the end of the day, but I couldn¡¯t exactly tell them that.
Sharla: Or we could wait until tomorrow morning? I don¡¯t want to get caught out after dark. Ryan: I don¡¯t want another party sniping our kill. It has to happen today. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Andrew: I¡¯m with Ryan on this. Those military dudes have been really active, grabbing any unfinished quests. Milli: Yeah, screw those guys. I don¡¯t want them getting our loot. Josh: Can we not clog the chat with shit-talking? Milli: Sorry. DX Ryan: No emotes, either. Milli: You guys are no fun.
The hike took about an hour before we reached a trail leading off the main path. According to intel from the townsfolk, the cave was only fifteen minutes from this point. Josh and I took up a hidden position behind a thick patch of bushes near the cave entrance. The cave¡¯s maw was enormous, draped in moss and vines, and the stench of rotting meat poured out in a suffocating miasma. Scattered around the entrance were the bones of countless creatures¡ªsome fresh, some old enough to crumble to dust. The eerie tableau made it clear: this troll wasn¡¯t just a simple monster. It was a predator, and this cave was its den.
Ryan: Josh, can you make a dire wolf?
I gestured to the scattered remains near the cave. Most of the bones were oversized teeth and jawbones¡ªlikely from dire wolves. Trolls probably had a taste for them, and I was banking on that hunch.
Josh: That¡¯s a bit too big. I can do a smaller one, maybe make it sound injured? Ryan: Yeah, let¡¯s try that.
Josh began murmuring the incantation, and a shimmering patch of air at the tree line coalesced into a limping, bloodied wolf. It staggered about, letting out loud, pitiful cries. For nearly a minute, the illusion prowled and whined. I glanced over at Josh, who was visibly straining to keep the spell active. Just as I was sure it would fail, a tall, gangly figure lunged out from the cave mouth, charging at the wolf. Josh reacted just in time, making the illusion bolt into the trees as the troll swiped at it. The creature passed through the illusion and stumbled, confused. Josh gasped and dispelled the illusion, wiping sweat from his brow. The troll stood hunched in the open, its long, emaciated frame silhouetted by the sunlight. It had hollow, unblinking eyes, matted hair, and gnarled limbs. I activated Identify ++, focusing on the creature.
Hostile NPC: Forest Troll Description: If those replies on your YouTube comments are to be believed, this might just be your long-lost cousin! Stinking, gross, and perpetually ravenous, this creature is rarely seen without gorging on something unfortunate. Standing taller than a man when it straightens up¡ªthough it rarely does¡ªits long limbs and hollow-eyed stare hide its terrifying resilience. Forest Trolls are solitary by nature, favouring isolated woods, swamps, or cave systems. Beware its bite: its saliva delivers a potent paralytic. Resistances: Common Weaknesses: Hidden Vulnerabilities: Bonus Tip: Though usually solitary, a pregnant troll can birth up to a hundred trollings¡ªeach one small, ferocious, and armed with razor-sharp teeth. If you think one troll is bad, imagine a swarm of these little nightmares!
I shared the information with the party. The news wasn¡¯t encouraging, but I couldn¡¯t abandon the quest. The memory of Samantha¡¯s voice echoed in my mind, driving me forward.
Sharla: I don¡¯t like this. The smart move would be to starve it out or lure it into a prepared ambush. Without knowing its elemental weakness, we¡¯re walking into a death trap. Ryan: No, we can do this. Josh, what elements can you work with right now? Josh: Fire, ice, and poison.
It occurred to me that I didn¡¯t even know how elemental types were classified in this world¡ªdefinitely a question for Louis later.
Ryan: That¡¯s a solid spread. We¡¯ll attack from range, and if it looks bad, we bail. Avoid using fire initially, I don¡¯t want to go off any assumptions. Andrew: I¡¯m having second thoughts too. Milli: Screw that noise. I say we jump it.
The debate dragged on for several minutes. Surprisingly, Fiona broke the stalemate.
Fiona: If we don¡¯t do something, it could go after another party. We¡¯d be leaving them in danger.
Her reasoning was enough to sway the rest of the group. Sharla, however, insisted I stay back with the ranged attackers. She wanted me to act as a final defence if the troll broke through.
Sharla: No heroics, Ryan. If I go down, your job is to blind it and run.
Her words weighed heavily on me, planting a seed of doubt that took root and spread as we finalized our preparations. She was right¡ªone misstep, and someone might not walk away from this. The plan was straightforward: Fiona would run in to buff Sharla before retreating to a safe distance. Josh would start the fight by luring the troll with an illusionary wolf and would stay mobile, deploying additional illusions to confuse and distract it. Sharla would engage directly, supported by ranged attacks from Andrew and Milli, while I hung back in a rear-guard role. My job was to stay alert, capitalize on any openings with my Hazard Hunter skill, and act as a failsafe to disrupt the troll with blinding coprolite bombs if things went south. We took our positions carefully. Sharla and Fiona concealed themselves near the cave mouth, ready to intercept the troll. Milli, Andrew, and I crouched in the thick brush, arrows nocked and sling loaded, waiting for the signal. Josh, positioned where we¡¯d done our reconnaissance, stood alone, preparing to cast the illusion.
Josh: Ok, I''m in position. Sharla: Fiona and I are good to go. Ryan: Ready on our end
Josh conjured another wolf. It limped into the clearing in front of the cave, whining loudly. The tension was unbearable. Seconds crawled past like molasses. Then, the beast appeared. It landed in a flash, crushing the illusory wolf beneath its jagged claws. Fiona¡¯s buffs ignited, glowing faintly, and Sharla charged with steely determination. WHAM Her warhammer connected with a sickening crack. The troll¡¯s skull caved in, and its body crumpled to the ground. Sharla froze, shield raised, waiting for the counterattack. Nothing.
Milli: Is that it?
As if in answer, the monster¡¯s head popped back into shape with a grotesque grinding noise. Its gangly arm shot out, grabbing Sharla¡¯s shield and yanking hard. She staggered but stayed on her feet, twisting her arm free just in time. The troll lifted her shield to its gaping mouth and bit down. Splinters exploded as it spat the wood out like it was nothing more than bark. Andrew and Milli sprang into action. Stones from Milli¡¯s sling smashed into the troll, and Andrew¡¯s arrows sank deep into its flesh, but it didn¡¯t seem to care. Its sunken, milky eyes stayed locked on Sharla. Drool dripped in heavy globules from its slack mouth. I took a shaky step forward, scarf pulled over my nose to block the stench. The thing looked wrong¡ªlike someone had draped loose, rotting skin over a too-thin frame. Tufts of wiry fur clung to bald patches where the flesh seemed half-decayed. For a moment, it might have passed for a corpse. Then it moved. With a bone-rattling screech, it bolted. Sharla was ready. She sidestepped the charge and swung her warhammer into its flank. Thud. The troll barely flinched. Its neck extended unnaturally, like a snake, head snapping toward her. Sharla ducked, but her hair tangled in its jaws. With a violent yank, it tore out a chunk of her scalp. Sharla screamed as the troll slurped the hair down like spaghetti. Her cry turned to rage. She swung again¡ªthis time at its neck¡ªsmashing her warhammer into it. The troll¡¯s body convulsed, hacking up a thick cloud of foul air that made my eyes water. Josh was still recovering, his cooldown not yet finished. We were losing ground fast. ¡°We¡¯re not going to make it,¡± I thought. I started forward, ready to draw its attention¡ªanything to give Sharla some relief¡ªbut Milli beat me to it. ¡°Hey, over here, stinky!¡± she shouted, whipping a metallic ball from her pouch. The projectile smashed into the troll¡¯s chest, glowing faintly. For a beat, nothing happened. Then¡ªBOOM¡ªthe ball exploded in a burst of frost. The troll shrieked, this time in pain. Its flesh cracked and crumbled where the frost touched it, shards falling away like shattered glass. It spun toward Milli, distracted, and Sharla seized the moment. It¡¯s reaction was surprising, this must have be it¡¯s weakness
Ryan: Keep hitting it with ice!
¡°Sharla! Shield!¡± Milli yelled. She¡¯d already hooked Sharla¡¯s broken shield with her crosse, flinging it across the clearing. Sharla snatched it up mid-charge, affixing it to her arm before landing another brutal hit to the troll¡¯s spine.
Sharla: Nothing I do works! Josh where are you at with your spell cool down? Josh: Four seconds!
Milli dodged as the troll swiped at her, its claws passing inches from her face. Andrew fired arrow after arrow, doubling his efforts. Milli loaded another frost ball into her sling, lining up her shot. Sharla lunged, delivering an upswing to the troll¡¯s chin. The monster staggered back, its head bobbing loosely. ¡°Now!¡± Sharla roared. Milli fired. The frost ball struck the troll¡¯s temple and exploded, encasing its head in ice. The troll clawed frantically at its face, peeling away its own frozen flesh. It shrieked, the sound fractured and panicked. For a second, we thought we had it. The troll¡¯s arms whipped out and collided with Sharla, the crunch of bone echoed, She cried out and she pulsed with yellow light, healing herself. The monsters head snapped around to face Milli. Its jaw gaped wide, teeth like shards of glass set in rotting gums. Before she could move, it lunged. Teeth sank into her waist, lifting her clean off the ground. ¡°MILLI!¡± Andrew¡¯s scream cut through the chaos. He was on his feet, arrows flying in rapid succession, his face twisted in fear and panic. The troll flung Milli into the air, its jaws wide open, ready to catch her. A flash of light. An icicle as long as a spear exploded from the troll¡¯s throat, piercing it clean through. Josh stood, panting, hands glowing faintly; he had buffed one of Andrew¡¯s arrow mid-flight, not a moment to spare. The troll thrashed it¡¯s head hit Milli, sending her sailing over my head. She landed behind me, hitting the ground with a sickening thud. She didn¡¯t move. ¡°Milli!¡± I screamed, running to her. I didn¡¯t make it far. Pain exploded across my back, and my body went numb. The troll¡¯s claws had scraped across me¡ªnot deep, but enough. My limbs gave out, and I collapsed, frozen. I saw her¡ªMilli¡ªher small, still, body lying a few feet away. Her lifeless eyes stared at nothing. I tried to scream, tried to move, but I couldn¡¯t. My interface glitched, frozen like me. All I could do was watch. Sharla¡¯s roar shook the clearing. She scooped me up and ran, blazing with the golden light of her warhammer¡¯s spell. Behind her, Fiona, Josh, and Andrew rallied. Josh and Andrew froze the troll¡¯s torso, locking it in place. Sharla dumped us both and returned to the fight, her warhammer smashed into the ice, cracking it open like glass. Blow after blow, she shattered it¡ªuntil nothing remained but splinters of frozen flesh. Sharla ran over to us, producing white bandages from her inventory pressing them into Milli''s stomach, they quickly got soaked in blood. "Stay with me Milli, please stay with me." Sharla muttered, her heal was still wasn''t off cool down, somebody rolled me to the side to make more room, I was now looking into the forest unable to see what was happening. I felt sensation slowly start to return, first in my extremities, I saw the glow of Sharla''s healing magic. She was still crying, "Look! She blinked!" It was Andrews voice, Sharla continued to weep, deep heaving sobs. I was rolled over and Sharla''s face was in mine, it was full of rage, she grabbed me by the shirt collar and screamed in my face. "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING! WE COULD HAVE LOST BOTH OF YOU!" She slapped me, and I felt the dull ache in my cheek, still under the effects of the paralysis. Josh pulled her back and she cried into his shirt. He stroked her head while she sobbed, letting out the emotions she worked diligently to prevent from boiling over. It wasn''t until we were back in the apartment that I had enough feeling to move slightly. I regained access to my interface also and I wasted no time sending a message to Sharla.
Ryan: Is Millie ok?
Chapter 15 It took nearly ten hours for the paralytic to wear off completely. Josh had helped me into bed after Sharla¡¯s repeated screaming fits made it clear that I wasn¡¯t going to get any rest in the common area. Every twenty minutes, like clockwork, she was yelling at Milli and me for deviating from the plan. She was right to be furious. Though we acted with good intentions, trying to save her, our impulsiveness had endangered everyone. Her anger echoed in my mind even after I managed to get some sleep. When I woke up, the weight of the fight still pressed heavily on me. I got up and stepped into the common room, where Andrew was sprawled across the couch, snoring softly. I didn¡¯t have the heart to wake him, so I grabbed my gear and headed downstairs to train. It was still dark, the faintest hint of dawn just starting to colour the horizon. I assumed the tavern would be empty at this hour, but as I entered, I noticed a familiar figure slumped over a table. Sharla sat there, clutching a nearly empty bottle of dark amber liquid. Her head was resting on her forearm, her hair falling messily over her face. The table bore the sticky residue of spilled alcohol, and a faint sour smell lingered in the air. I hesitated. Part of me wanted to give her space, but the other part¡ªguilt-ridden and desperate to mend things¡ªcompelled me forward. As I approached, my coordination still shaky from the aftereffects of the paralytic, I bumped into a chair, sending it clattering to the floor. Sharla jolted awake, her eyes wild and unfocused. She grabbed the bottle like a club, lifting it above her head in a defensive stance. "Oh, it''s you." She said, sounding cold and distant, a slur evident in her voice, she put the bottle down and made a half-hearted attempt at wiping the liquor off the table. I went over to the booth and sat across from her, she looked ragged, like she had clearly been up all night drinking. "Sharla, are you doing alright?" I asked softly, reaching out a hand. She pulled away before I could touch her, her movements sharp, almost reflexive. She didn¡¯t look at me when she spoke, her voice distant, as if she was speaking to herself as much as to me. "Do you know why they call it pain tolerance?" she said, her tone bitter, hollow. "It¡¯s because if you feel enough of it, over a long enough period, you start to build a resistance. Eventually, what would have killed you at the start is the only thing you can feel anymore." She paused, her shoulders trembling. "This place... it makes it so much worse." Her focus finally shifted to me, her eyes brimming with tears. She looked exhausted, the weight of something crushing her. She took a deep, shuddering breath before continuing. "It¡¯s that insidious fucking healing. It makes it so that nothing matters¡ªso long as they can scrape you off the pavement. Then, with a quick word or a wave of a fucking wand, you¡¯re all better. Like you weren¡¯t supposed to be fucking dead." Her words hung in the air, heavy and unrelenting. She pulled another bottle from her inventory and took a long swig, slamming it onto the table. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the glass neck. "How that shit wouldn¡¯t change you is beyond me," she spat, her voice rising. "She should be fucking dead!" The last word came out as a choked sob, and she looked away, her fingers tightening around the bottle. "I¡¯ve been seeing it change you too," she continued, her voice softer now, but no less raw. "Ever since what happened with Tim, you¡¯ve been different. We go out there, day after day, killing and almost getting killed, and I don¡¯t know how much longer I can keep pretending I¡¯m okay." She reached for her prosthesis, her fingers brushing the surface with a distant, haunted expression. "I can feel it changing me," she whispered. "I can feel the numbness creeping in." She tilted the bottle again, draining more of its contents in one long drink. "Sharla... I..." I stammered, words failing me completely. She turned her face away, closing herself off once more. I got up and moved to sit beside her. Gently, I reached out, trying to pull her into a hug, but she shied away. Her body tensed as she scooted further from me, resting her head back on the table. The motion was clear¡ªshe was done talking. I stayed there for a moment, unsure of what to do or say. Eventually, I stood and made my way outside, the cool air brushing against my skin as I started my routines. I couldn¡¯t stop thinking about what she¡¯d said, about pain, healing, and how this place changed people. I¡¯d noticed it early on¡ªhow those who were scared in the beginning grew bolder, then reckless. The fear that once kept them cautious seemed to vanish over time. It had seemed appealing to me at first. Losing that cowardice. Shedding the hesitation that left me second-guessing every step. I¡¯d pushed myself hard, morning and night, trying to harden myself into something unbreakable. But now, I wondered. What was I losing along the way?
I couldn¡¯t bring myself to train properly. My body went through the motions, but my mind was elsewhere. I found myself stopping frequently, sitting on whatever surface was closest, staring at the settlement walls that peeked over the tops of distant buildings. The weight of the morning was pressing down on me, suffocating and inescapable. I decided to call it early, my resolve evaporating with every step. The thought of returning to the tavern filled me with dread¡ªwhat awaited me there? How was Milli? I hadn¡¯t been told much about her condition beyond what Sharla had confirmed: she was alive. That knowledge wasn¡¯t enough to soothe the gnawing guilt eating away at me. I wandered the streets instead, the eerily quiet pre-dawn roads stretching out before me. Merchants hadn¡¯t set up their stalls yet, and the usual bustle was absent. The occasional hooded figure slipped in and out of alleyways, a ghostly reminder of the settlement''s other side. As I meandered aimlessly, my mini-map blipped. A small beer mug icon appeared, indicating a tavern nearby. I didn¡¯t realise how much I craved a drink until that moment. My feet moved automatically toward the mark. The building was an unassuming hole-in-the-wall, its wooden sign swinging slightly in the breeze. Above the door was a crudely painted caricature of a grinning thief hoisting an overflowing mug. The name above the sign read ¡°The Rogue¡¯s Poison.¡± I stepped inside, expecting a dim but welcoming space like the Bottomless Pit. Instead, the air hit me¡ªa pungent mix of stale alcohol and mildew. The room was dark and damp, with faint, flickering blue light illuminating a collection of dusty bottles behind the bar. It was staffed by a stout man, about my height, with a light complexion and a completely bald head that gleamed under the light. Intricate, pointed black tattooed swirls adorned one side of his face, and his thick, hairy arms rested heavily on the counter. Despite his stocky build, his sagging skin showed his age. The rest of the tavern wasn¡¯t much better. A dozen scattered tables were occupied by lone patrons, each nursing a drink like it was their lifeline. Their faces were shadowed, their postures hunched, and their murmured conversations barely audible. At the far end of the bar, three men sat together, speaking in hushed tones. I dragged out a stool and planted myself. The scrape of wood on the floor echoed through the room, briefly drawing attention before the murmurs resumed. The bartender approached silently, his expression unreadable. ¡°I don¡¯t care what it is,¡± I said, my voice low and heavy. ¡°Just make it strong.¡± The bartender nodded and grabbed a dusty bottle filled with a swampy green liquid. He poured a measure into a small, smudged glass and slid it toward me. The drink smelled powerfully of Liquorice, and the first sip set my mouth and lips on fire. I winced, sucking in air to dull the burn, and coughed violently. The sound carried, cutting through the quiet, and caught the attention of the men at the end of the bar. Their conversation stopped abruptly, and one of them stood, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. He made his way over to me, a crooked smile revealing uneven, yellowed teeth. ¡°You look like you¡¯re in the wrong place, mate,¡± he said, his voice a deep, gravelly rasp from years of smoking. The man loomed over me. His tight, stained white T-shirt stretched over a wiry frame. Dark pants and worn leather boots completed the look of someone who belonged in this place far more than I ever could. His balding head sported a greasy comb-over, and his skin was leathery, sun-beaten, and crisscrossed with lines. Bloodshot, yellow-tinged eyes stared down at me, appraising and dismissive all at once. I ignored the man. All I wanted was to drink in silence, to let the burning liquid numb the edges of my thoughts. ¡°I don¡¯t think he heard you!¡± one of his friends called out, his voice loud and mocking. The other man at the counter stood, the two of them walking over to flank me on either side. ¡°You deaf or just plain stupid?¡± the first man sneered, leaning closer. His yellowed teeth gleamed in the dim light, and the fetid stench of his breath washed over me like a wave of rot. ¡°I¡¯m just here to have a drink, guys,¡± I said evenly, raising my hands in a placating gesture. ¡°I don¡¯t want any trouble.¡± Is that really the line you¡¯re going with? Said a small voice in the back of my mind, mocking me for the clich¨¦. The man¡¯s gaze shifted to my face, and a cruel grin spread across his leathery features. He started laughing, a harsh, throaty sound. ¡°Would you look at this!¡± he said, turning to his friends. ¡°We got ourselves a baby boy here! You sure you¡¯re old enough to be drinking that, kid?¡± His companions joined in with short, mean laughs, dripping with disdain. I stood to leave, unwilling to let this escalate further, but his hand shot out, pressing firmly against my chest and shoving me into the counter. ¡°Hey, hey, hey¡ªwhere you think you¡¯re going, buddy? We¡¯re just starting to get to know each other,¡± he said, his tone laced with mock friendliness. He leaned in, his smile widening, and I felt the sharp edge of the counter bite into my lower back. Behind me, I heard the soft clink of glass as the bartender quietly moved bottles and cups out of the way, clearly anticipating what was about to happen. ¡°I¡¯ve got a bit of a fascination,¡± the man said, gesturing theatrically with his hands. ¡°I like to know who people were before we got dragged into this magical little hellhole. So tell me, kid¡ªwhat were you before all this?¡± I stared at him, keeping my expression neutral, my thoughts steady. My inventory menu flickered into view, and with a subtle mental command, I equipped my staff. It appeared in its shortened form, concealed in my hand. The man leaned even closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. ¡°As for me? Well,¡± he said, his smile twisting into something darker, ¡°I was a bit of a big shot where I came from. Had plenty of friends who¡¯d do anything for me. Accommodations weren¡¯t great, though. You know how it is when you kill a few people¡ªprison¡¯s a real step down from the high life.¡± His friends chuckled darkly at the revelation, their postures shifting to something more predatory. The tension in the air thickened, the room feeling smaller, tighter, with every word he spoke. His eyes darted to my cup. Without warning, he grabbed it in a blur, wanting to smash it over my head. I reacted instinctively. My thumb found the button on my staff, and with a click, it extended to its full length. The base struck the floor, and the tip slammed into the man¡¯s chin with a satisfying crack. His head snapped back, and he crumpled into the table behind him, sending mugs and plates clattering to the ground. I glanced at the other two men. For a heartbeat, they froze¡ªstaring at their friend sprawled on the floor. Then they moved. One drew a knife, eyeing me carefully. The other hefted a mace and shield, his stance tense but sloppy. I stayed calm, keeping my focus on the knife. My Flaw Finder skill lit up the room like a map of opportunity: a chair knocked over on the floor, and the table the first man had crashed into both glowed faintly in my vision. The knife-wielder lunged. I spun my staff, intercepting the strike with a resounding CRACK. His wrist snapped under the force, and the knife dropped, clattering to the floor. I didn¡¯t hesitate. I shoulder-charged him, driving him backward. He stumbled, legs catching on the fallen chair, and went down hard. SNAP His shin broke, his leg still tangled, his head struck the table with a sickening ¡®thud¡¯. The entire thing collapsed onto him. The man with the mace roared and swung wildly at me. I deflected the blow downward with a sharp turn of my staff, the mace smacking into the floorboards with a heavy ¡®thunk¡¯. Before he could recover, I reversed my grip and jabbed the staff into his knee. He howled in pain, staggering back. Another swing came, sloppy and desperate. I ducked under it and stepped back, sizing him up. His movements were clumsy¡ªhis footwork off balance, his shield hanging loose at his side, leaving him wide open. He was an amateur. Unlucky for him, I¡¯d spent time sparring with Sharla, almost every day since we got here. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. I shifted my grip and took my stance, staff out, hands firm at the base. He saw the movement and charged. Perfect. I slid my hands up the staff and thrust forward¡ªsnapping it into his face. CRUNCH His nose broke, blood spraying across his mouth. He reeled back, but I didn¡¯t give him time to recover. I twirled the staff overhead and brought it crashing into the side of his head. The tip connected with his ear, and he staggered sideways, disoriented and bleeding. I swept the staff low, hooking it behind his ankle, and hefted upward. His leg flew out from under him, and he crashed to the ground. Before he could even groan, I stepped forward and drove my boot into his face. CRACK Teeth scattered across the floor like dice. I straightened, breathing hard, and looked around. The bar had gone silent. Every chair was overturned, every table abandoned. Around me, men and women were on their feet, weapons drawn¡ªknives glinting, bows nocked, swords at the ready. I tightened my grip on my staff, rolling my shoulders as I adjusted my stance. "THAT''S ENOUGH!" The bartender roared, he was now brandishing a crossbow that shimmered in the dim light. "You!, Get the fuck out of my bar!" he said pointing the weapon at me. I retracted my staff and walked out, every eye in the room followed me as I left. I jogged away, glancing over my shoulder to make sure no one was following me. The town had begun to stir, with merchants setting up their stalls and early risers walking about. My pulse was still racing as I spotted a food stall offering stuffed bread. I bought one, sat on the side of the street, and took a bite. My hands trembled, but a wide grin spread across my face. "That felt good," I murmured to myself, leaning back and letting the morning sun warm my skin. After finishing my impromptu breakfast, I sent a quick message to Andrew.
Ryan: Hey, do you know if Sharla is back upstairs yet?
It only took a moment for a response.
Andrew: Yeah, she''s back alright. Milli''s up too.
The tone of his message made my stomach twist. I got up and made my way back to the Pit, the jaunty spring in my step quickly tempered by the unease creeping into my chest. When I entered the apartment, I was greeted by raised voices. "Why are you even talking about taking a quest? What¡¯s wrong with you!? You almost died yesterday¡ªdo you even comprehend that?" Sharla was standing over Milli, who was curled up on the couch next to Andrew, her knees pulled to her chest. "It''s not like I''m going out there right now," Milli muttered, her voice small and trembling. "I''m taking the day off." "Oh, so sorry! That makes it so much better," Sharla snapped, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She turned and caught sight of me walking in, her face a mask of grief and frustration. Andrew, sensing the tension, stood and tried to insert himself between them. "Maybe we should all just take a moment and relax, okay?" For a second, Sharla tensed, and I worried she might actually take a swing at him. But she relented with a huff, retreating to her room and slamming the door behind her. I exhaled, the charged air in the room making my chest feel tight. I walked slowly to the couch and sat down, drumming my fingers on my legs. "I¡ª" I started, but Milli cut me off. "I''m sorry," she said, her voice cracking. "I fucked up. I almost got everyone killed." She was looking at her hands as she rubbed them together anxiously. "What? No," I said, startled by her admission. "It was my fault for pushing everyone to do the quest in the first place." "No, we all agreed to it," Andrew said, his arm resting lightly around Milli''s shoulders. "Sharla¡¯s right, though," I said, glancing toward her closed door. "We¡¯re not in the right mindset to go out again so soon. Let¡¯s give it a few days." Milli didn¡¯t respond immediately, but when she did, her voice was quiet, almost resigned. "You said it yourself. We need to get stronger. And you¡¯re right. It¡¯s the only hope we have." Her words struck a chord, a deep, unspoken truth we all avoided voicing. The only hope we have to get home. She pulled her legs tighter to her chest, her face pale and gaunt. "We can¡¯t just stay here farming goblins and wolves until we die of old age." She looked up at me, her eyes rimmed with exhaustion. "Eventually, the monsters will get so strong that we¡¯ll be stuck inside the walls. And then¡­" Her words hung heavy in the air. I didn¡¯t have a response, just a sinking sense of dread. From what Louis had hinted, we only had a few more weeks before the monsters reached a tipping point, outpacing the players'' strength. After that, it would be hopeless. Milli broke the silence, her tone softer. "Oh, I forgot to give this to you." She reached into her inventory and pulled out a small, burnished rod no longer than my hand. "I finished it the day before last. I was going to give it to you yesterday, but, well¡­ you know." She held it out to me, her lips quirking in a faint, apologetic smile. "Sorry about the name." I took the item, examining it briefly in my inventory. The name ¡®Milli¡¯s Multi-tool¡¯ floated beside it in glowing text. "Is this my other staff?" I asked, pulling it back out, I had forgotten I had given it to her all those weeks ago. "It''s a bit better then that!" She said perking up at the chance to talk about one of her creations. "I''ve modified it a lot!" she said, taking it from me as she stood. She held the shiny rod in her hand, her brow furrowing in concentration. A flicker of light sparked in her eyes, then grew brighter¡ªflashing and swirling like tiny storms. In her hand, the rod responded. Its polished surface dulled, shifting to a matte finish, as though it were breathing in her energy. Slowly, it began to grow. Inch by inch, it extended, the metal stretching like liquid until it reached its full length. She grabbed it firmly with both hands, and¡ªclick¡ªit split apart, separating cleanly into two equal sticks. The pieces shrank, until they were more manageable, like short batons. She snapped them back together with a deft motion, and the rod clicked into place, growing into a full-length staff. A moment later, snap, it collapsed back down to its compact size, no longer than her finger. Before I could blink, it expanded again, WHOOSH, stretching out to a full ten feet, as though responding to her will. She twisted her grip. The staff¡¯s tip shimmered, shifting and rippling, and small round rivets sprouted along the end, protruding like mechanical studs. With a quick flourish of her wrist, the rivets retracted, shnnkt! and a gleaming spear tip shot out with a metallic clang. She spun the staff once, the blade catching the light before she stilled it with practiced ease. The weapon hummed faintly in her hands, as though alive. It retracted again and she handed it to me. I closed my mouth realising that it had been hanging open. "Holy shit Milli! You made this!? You''re a freaking genius!" I said taking the object from her, she blushed slightly as she swivelled her hips to and fro in pride. "The material is doing most of the work, it''s super responsive and forgiving. The real trick was getting it to be controlled via the interface, I only cracked that a few days ago." She sat back down and bounced happily. She talked me through the controls, they were very intuitive, after a few minutes I was able to easily switch between the different configurations. I shrank the pole down and put it in my inventory. "I''m going to be honest," I said, rubbing the back of my neck, "I¡¯m not sure if I¡¯ll be able to handle all the different modes on this thing. I¡¯ve only just gotten good enough with my regular staff that Sharla doesn¡¯t completely stomp me." My mind flashed back to the bar fight earlier. Maybe being able to keep up with her is more of a badge of honour than I realised. "What quest were you thinking of doing, anyway?" I sat down on the couch, noticing Louis slipping through the dog door with a quiet flap. He jumped onto the couch next to Milli and curled up, his nose tucked neatly into his fluffy tail. Milli straightened up, a hint of excitement creeping into her voice. "Well, like I said, you had a point about us needing to get stronger. Sure, the troll was a mess, but we survived." "Yeah," I said, gesturing toward Andrew, "because Josh, Fiona, and Andrew were there to save our asses." "Don¡¯t get me wrong¡ªI never want to face down another troll either," Milli continued, undeterred. "But we need to start thinking about clearing the northern road." I raised an eyebrow. "Okay... Go on?" "Yesterday, when we were picking out quests, I saw that the adventuring guild posted a recon mission. They want someone to gather intel on the goblins up north¡ªnumbers, defences, that kind of thing." She avoided eye contact, her fingers fidgeting nervously. The ring on my finger felt impossibly heavy, as if the implications of my Morph Form skill were finally pressing down on me. I hadn¡¯t told anyone about it, not even Sharla, though I had used my ability to speak goblin on multiple occasions. I¡¯d never used Morph Form before, and even if I had, I doubted it would be much help. Still, the possibility gnawed at me. Opening my bestiary, I saw options for goblins and wolves under the skill, while entries for trolls and ogres were greyed out. I closed the menu quickly, unsettled by the thought of volunteering for something I didn¡¯t fully understand. "Do you have any solid ideas so far?" I asked, keeping my tone casual. "I was toying with the idea of all five of us running interference while someone sneaks into the encampment..." Milli trailed off, her voice losing confidence. "Which is a fucking horrible plan, for the record," Andrew interrupted, giving her a pointed glare. "I¡¯m with Andrew," I added. "Feral goblins are one thing, but everything I¡¯ve heard about the ¡®civilised¡¯ ones is that we should avoid getting outnumbered by them at all costs." Milli¡¯s shoulders slumped. "Yeah, I didn¡¯t have much hope for that plan, but at least I¡¯m trying to come up with solutions." An awkward silence hung in the air. I cleared my throat and stood up. "I¡¯m gonna take a shower. Training left me gross." It was partly true¡ªI did need to clean up¡ªbut mostly, I wanted an excuse to check my notifications in peace. Once in my room, I sat on the edge of my bed and opened my interface. The notifications were piling up: I got one achievement from the troll fight, a quest completion, and a skill level-up. I started with the achievement.
Achievement: The Long Way Around Description: Your party has defeated a troll without exploiting its elemental weakness. I don¡¯t know if that¡¯s impressive or just plain stupid, but either way¡ªgood for you, guys. Reward: 1 Troll Anatomy Poster
I groaned. So I had guessed wrong about its weakness. We were luckier than I¡¯d initially thought. Next, I checked the skill notification, hoping it was my Quarterstaff Mastery finally hitting level 3. Instead, it was an update to my Hazard Hunter skill. That must have been from this morning, I realised, feeling a flicker of excitement. It now had a chance to trigger nearby hazards causing them to combo together. Finally, I opened the last notification, my stomach tightening with excitement.
Quest Complete: Out of the Rut Description: Am I a fucking joke to you? I tell you to kill something new to stave off my premature death by boredom, and you let some other random assholes do it for you while you nap? You may have ¡®technically¡¯ completed the quest, but I¡¯m not happy. Show some backbone, or I¡¯ll find someone who isn¡¯t a spineless little shit. Reward: A new quest has been assigned.
I blinked at the notification, reading and rereading it. ¡°Wha¡ªWHAT?!¡± I shouted, my voice echoing off the walls. After everything we¡¯d just been through, nearly dying against that troll, and it still wasn¡¯t good enough? My heart pounded as I opened the new quest.
New Quest: Solo Play Description: You¡¯re going to march down to that quest board and pick one out. No friends or party to help you, and if you so much as think of bitching out on me, there will be hell to pay. Reward: You¡¯ll be back in my good graces. Penalties: Just try me.
I stared at the words, disbelief and anger bubbling up inside me. This was complete bullshit. We¡¯d fought tooth and nail against that troll, nearly died, and it still wasn¡¯t enough? My first instinct was to tell Samantha to find someone else to torment, but her voice echoed in my mind: I have other ways to entertain myself with my toys. That dream¡­ It couldn¡¯t have been real. She wasn¡¯t real. Just a voice¡ªan incredibly nice voice, but still just a voice. Right? My hand instinctively touched the ring on my finger. What if I was wrong? What if she really could do something? Blow my head off or hit me with some horrifying penalty for disobedience? I¡¯d seen other players suffer for failing quests¡ªnone of them came away unscathed, and their penalties were far worse than just losing a reward. I swallowed hard, a pit forming in my stomach. I¡¯d already gone too far with this; her claws were in me. Backing out now felt¡­ impossible. I left my room, pulling myself together as best as I could. Milli and Andrew were sitting on the couch, talking in low tones. They stopped when I entered. ¡°I¡¯m gonna go for a walk,¡± I said casually, ¡°try to think of something for the recon quest.¡± Milli nodded but gave me a warning look. ¡°Don¡¯t leave the settlement without us, or Sharla¡¯s going to pop a blood vessel.¡± I waved her comment off with a faint smile and headed downstairs, the weight of the ring on my finger impossible to ignore. Out on the street, the town bustled with the sounds of merchants setting up stalls and adventurers preparing for the day. I toyed with the ring as I walked, its faint shimmer catching the light. Maybe I could give it to someone else. Maybe they could do the recon mission instead. But the idea was foolish. If they got killed¡ªor worse, captured¡ªthe guild would lose its best chance at sneaking in. I thought of Milli¡¯s idea. Could we pull it off with more people? No. The thought of throwing lives away made me sick. I reached the quest board and stared at the swirling mass of overlapping notes and parchments. I made a show of scanning them, pretending to deliberate. But I already knew what I was going to do. I accepted the recon quest. The rest of the morning was spent in an abandoned warehouse, experimenting with my Morph Form skill. When I activated it, a shimmering haze enveloped me, and I found myself looking out of unfamiliar eyes. My hands were no longer mine¡ªclawed and scrawny, they were a goblin¡¯s hands. The illusion was flawless, as far as I could tell. I moved around, testing the body¡¯s limits, but my coordination was shot. All the experience I¡¯d gained with my staff was useless in this new form. Curious, I tapped myself lightly with the staff. The illusion shattered instantly, the shimmer dissolving around me. I waited out the 40-second cooldown before trying again. A cough, a scratch¡ªanything that could be interpreted as "damage" was enough to break the transformation. That was a problem. I dedicated the rest of the day to exploring the illusion''s bounds. It was ineffective for combat, and despite no inherent abilities, I endured all its weaknesses. Evening fell as I walked back to the tavern. My confidence in the skill was shaky at best, but at least I understood its limits now. The illusion didn¡¯t include my clothing, which meant my gear would stand out like a neon sign among goblins. I didn¡¯t have time to figure out a disguise. This was going to have to work as is. When I entered the apartment, Sharla and Milli were sitting at the table, talking in hushed tones. Sharla looked up and immediately came over, pulling me into a hug. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. I hugged her back tightly, the guilt of the past few days weighing heavy on both of us. ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s been a rough few days for everyone.¡± "Milli and I were talking, and you''re right about getting stronger. We can¡¯t just keep spinning our wheels," Sharla said, her tone firm but laced with understanding. "I¡¯ve been trying to protect you two, but if I shelter you too much, you won¡¯t be able to look after yourselves if I¡¯m not around. We¡¯re going to work together and figure out this goblin circus craziness." ¡°Y-yeah, together,¡± I repeated, nodding as I let go of her. We ate dinner and talked strategies. Andrew had already returned to his party, leaving just the three of us. Neither Sharla nor Milli had been able to come up with a viable plan for the recon quest, and we decided to revisit it tomorrow with fresh minds. I excused myself from the table, claiming I needed to turn in early, a move they didn¡¯t question since I¡¯d added evening callisthenics to my routine. But I wasn¡¯t heading to bed. Instead, I prepared for my solo expedition. I carefully stocked my coprolite bombs and left my backpack behind, transferring anything unnecessary into it to save on weight. My cloak was draped loosely over my shoulders, hood drawn low. I waited for nearly three hours, listening as the apartment fell silent. Milli and Sharla¡¯s soft murmurs faded, then the occasional thud of footsteps, and finally nothing at all. Certain they were asleep, I slipped out of my room. Moving as quietly as possible, I took off my shoes and shuffled across the floor. When I reached the door, I eased it open and slipped out, holding my breath. The tavern below was alive with laughter and the clink of mugs, a cacophony of voices rising and falling in boisterous conversation. Keeping my cloak wrapped tightly around me, I pulled my shoes back on and walked through the crowd, avoiding eye contact. No one paid me any mind. Outside, the streets were quiet, the usual hustle replaced by an eerie stillness. At night, the roads were mostly abandoned, save for the occasional hooded figure darting between alleyways. I stuck to the main thoroughfares, avoiding the shadows, and reached the northern gate without incident. The gate loomed before me, its imposing wooden beams locked with a heavy iron padlock. My heart sank. ¡°Shit. I didn¡¯t think of that,¡± I muttered under my breath. I tugged at the lock experimentally, and it rattled loudly against the bolt. I froze, listening for any sign that someone had heard, but the streets remained silent. I thought back to a series of YouTube videos I¡¯d binged about breaking locks with brute force, but the idea seemed reckless. Drawing attention now would be a death sentence. Then I remembered Milli¡¯s Multi-Tool. I pulled the small, burnished rod from my inventory and tested its size against the lock¡¯s arch. It fit perfectly. A small smile tugged at my lips. ¡°Here goes nothing,¡± I whispered. With a soft ¡®click¡¯, I activated the tool, and it extended rapidly to about a foot in length. The lock gave a sharp ¡®clang¡¯ and fell open. I caught it quickly, slipping it into my inventory before it hit the ground. Sliding the heavy bolt aside, I pushed the gate open just enough to slip through. Beyond it lay the forest, cloaked in inky darkness. The air was heavy, the faint scent of damp earth and moss wafting toward me. My heart thudded in my chest as I stared into the void ahead. Chapter 16 As soon as I reached the tree line, I activated Morph Form, shifting into my goblin guise. The transformation brought a strange sense of ease to my movements. The forest was alive with the rustling of leaves, the chattering of insects, and the occasional guttural squawks of feral goblins. I spotted a patrol within 100 meters of the settlement¡¯s perimeter¡ªa group of ten green-skinned creatures darting between the trees. They didn¡¯t approach me, though; my "civilised" appearance and demeanour were enough to keep them at bay. I stumbled into a group of seven a short while later, and the moment they laid eyes on me, they bolted into the undergrowth. The feral ones were clearly terrified of their civilised counterparts. After that, my trek down the road was relatively uneventful. The hours passed, and eventually, the faint glow of lights appeared on the horizon. ¡°Not far now,¡± I muttered to myself, trying to ignore the growing knot of anxiety in my stomach. As I continued, the atmosphere changed. The road became littered with bits of refuse¡ªbroken pieces of wood, discarded fabric, and the occasional shattered bottle. Ahead, a group of goblins dressed in absurd pinstripe clown outfits came into view. My heart thudded in my chest, and a cold sweat broke out over my body. There were four of them, led by a lanky figure dragging an oversized crossbow behind it. The weapon looked too large for any goblin to wield effectively, but it added to their menacing air. I forced myself to walk confidently, avoiding eye contact as I passed them. The goblins stopped to examine me, and I got about six feet past them before the leader¡¯s gravelly voice broke the silence. ¡°Oi, who are you? I don¡¯t remember seeing someone dressed like you around here.¡± I turned slowly, trying to keep my breathing steady. The leader¡¯s face looked like it had been smashed flat and smeared to one side, its mouth drooping diagonally, with jagged teeth spilling out the corner like an overstuffed suitcase. ¡°I¡¯m on business from the boss,¡± I replied in goblin speech, surprised at how natural it felt in this form. ¡°I can¡¯t keep them waiting.¡± The goblins exchanged sceptical glances but shrugged. Relief washed over me as they turned back to their patrol. An experience bar titled ¡°deception¡± appeared, filled with the slimmest line imaginable. That¡¯s new. I said to myself as is faded away. I took a few more steps down the road, ready to put the encounter behind me, when a sharp bark froze me in my tracks. ¡°HEY! YOU!¡± I turned, forcing myself to move slowly. One of the underlings¡ªa pug-faced goblin with squashed features and bloodshot eyes¡ªwas approaching, sniffing the air intently. My muscles tensed, every instinct screaming at me to be ready. If they figured out I wasn¡¯t a real goblin, I¡¯d have to drop the illusion and fight my way out. ¡°What do we have here?¡± The pug-faced goblin¡¯s eyes sparkled as it reached into my bandolier, pulling out one of my coprolite bombs. ¡°Blue stuff! You¡¯ve got blue stuff! Gimme it!¡± Before I could react, the goblin shoved the glowing lump into its mouth and began chewing frantically. I stepped back, avoiding its grubby hands as the other three goblins abandoned their weapons and rushed over, eyes wide with greed. ¡°Hands off!¡± I snapped, forcing confidence into my voice. ¡°I¡¯ll make you a trade. Give me your clothes and weapons, and I¡¯ll give you each one!¡± The leader snarled, slapping the pug-faced goblin across the head. ¡°No fair! He already got one, he did!¡± I seized the opportunity, pointing an accusatory finger at the pug-faced goblin. ¡°Oi, dog-face, you ate my merchandise. Pay up, or I¡¯ll tell the boss you stole the blue stuff I was supposed to sell him.¡± The goblin shrieked and started undressing, tossing its clownish attire to the ground. The others quickly followed suit, shedding their striped outfits in a frenzy. I handed over a few more coprolite bombs, watching as they devoured the glowing lumps with the enthusiasm of starving children. The experience bar appeared again momentarily, although I couldn¡¯t notice whatever experience I had gained. As they tore into their prize, I scooped up their discarded loot and slipped it into my inventory. Without looking back, I jogged down the road, my heart pounding. ¡°That was unexpected,¡± I muttered under my breath.. My interface buzzed, and I froze. It was a message from Milli. A cold dread settled over me.
Milli: Hey, I¡¯m in the bar downstairs. I can¡¯t find you.
Shit. I scrambled for a response, trying to come up with something that wouldn¡¯t raise suspicion.
Ryan: Yeah, sorry, I thought you guys were asleep. I¡¯m at a different pub, it¡¯s called ¡®The Rogue¡¯s Poison.¡¯ I¡¯ll be back late; I¡¯m just meeting someone.
It wasn¡¯t great, but it was the best I could come up with on the spot. The thought of the inevitable conversation that would follow made my stomach churn, but it was better than her finding out where I really was. As I approached the goblin encampment, the forest began to change. The air grew thick with the stench of sweat, dirt, and something sweetly rancid. The first traps appeared subtly, glowing as my hazard hunter skill highlighted them¡ªa disturbed patch of earth here, a suspicious pile of leaves there. But soon, the path turned into a winding maze of death. Bear traps with jagged iron teeth lay half-buried, punji pits gaped like silent mouths, and foot snares dangled from the low branches above. Each step was calculated, my breath shallow as I moved through the minefield. Shapes flitted at the edges of my vision¡ªgoblins perched in the shadows, arrows nocked and bows drawn, their beady eyes tracking my every movement. I could feel their anticipation, the collective twitch of fingers ready to let fly the moment I faltered. Somehow, I made it through unscathed. Ahead loomed a massive wooden arch, its splintered beams reaching into the sky. Crudely painted letters spelled out: If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. Nobblehob¡¯s Flying Circus My stomach tightened. Nobblehob. The potion vendor back in town. I knew that guy was shifty as hell, I thought, staring up at the monstrosity before me. A gigantic red, yellow, and blue tent towered over the encampment, its peaks stabbing into the night sky like spears. Each pointed apex bore a fluttering red flag, the fabric snapping in the faint breeze. The structure was enormous¡ªat least 300 meters long and nearly 15 meters high. From this vantage point, it seemed endless, stretching back into the dark like a grotesque leviathan beached in the heart of the forest. The sight at its base turned my stomach. A writhing throng of goblins surged outside the tent, their mismatched forms a chaotic sea of green and brown. Hundreds of them, maybe more, churned in a frenzy, shoving and clawing at each other as they fought to reach rides, food stalls, and carnival games. A goblin atop a rickety cart tossed handfuls of popcorn into the air, cackling as the others scrambled and leaped for the snacks, biting and clawing at their fellows for a single kernel. Another goblin, perched on what could only be described as a firehose mounted to a giant Slurpee cup, blasted the crowd with jets of icy slush. The goblins shrieked and howled in delight, scooping the frosty sludge from the ground and shoving it into their mouths. The chaos was overwhelming. The sheer number of them, the speed with which they moved¡ªit was impossible to count. My pulse quickened as I realised the precariousness of my situation. I slipped past a smashed ticket booth, its glass shattered and wood splintered. Beyond it, a set of rusted turnstiles stood guard, barring access to the chaotic mass. The metal bars groaned under the weight of goblins pushing and shoving against them, their snarling faces pressed between the gaps. From within the tent came the eerie sound of a calliope: ¡°Ooommm bop bop Ommmmm bop bop¡­¡± The wheezing, off-key melody barely rose above the cacophony, but its haunting tones made my skin crawl. The music seemed to mock the chaos, a ghostly tune out of sync with the frenetic energy of the goblins outside. I craned my neck, trying to see into the tent. Its striped walls were a patchwork of faded colours, but the inside was hidden, its secrets obscured by the flickering shadows of the goblins pressing at the entrance. The tent¡¯s scale was staggering. It looked like you could fit a fleet of buses¡ªor something far worse¡ªinside. I stayed well clear of the goblin mob. One wrong step, one shove, my illusion would fail, I¡¯d be swallowed by the horde. The thought of wading into that writhing sea of madness sent a shiver down my spine. I didn¡¯t dare risk it. I circled the perimeter, keeping to the shadows. A chain-link fence stretched around the tent, its surface covered with fabric printed with a crude caricature of Nobblehob¡¯s grinning face. The fence stood high, a makeshift barrier that felt more like a warning than a boundary. As I moved, I estimated the entire area to be about 500 meters in diameter. Near the base of the tent, a cluster of ramshackle buildings pressed against the fabric walls, connecting to the fence in uneven patches. I crouched near a tear in the fabric and peered through. Inside, a scene unlike anything I expected greeted me. A group of small goblins played together beneath the soft glow of fairy lights, the strands haphazardly wrapped around a leaning pole. Their laughter carried faintly on the air. Nearby, adult goblins moved with casual ease. Some stood in small clusters, chatting quietly. Others tended to babies in makeshift cribs fashioned from barrels and scrap wood. A few hung laundry on lines strung between poles, the damp fabric swaying gently in the night breeze. The smell of roasting meat wafted toward me, rich and smoky. My eyes followed the scent to a chimney poking out from the roof of one of the buildings pressed against the tent wall. Orange light flickered from within, casting faint shadows on the surrounding structures. This must be some kind of residential area¡ªmaybe for the performers? Did they even have performers? I wondered, my mind racing. The peaceful domesticity was unnerving. The goblins¡¯ world felt almost¡­ normal. But I couldn¡¯t let myself get distracted. I continued my circuit around the perimeter, careful to stay quiet. When I reached the entrance again, the chaotic sounds of the goblin throng had lessened, though the occasional burst of laughter or screech pierced the quiet. I turned away from the tent and started my trek back toward the settlement, retracing my steps through the treacherous minefield of traps and hidden archers. The forest was eerily silent now, as if the trees themselves were holding their breath. Shadows stretched long and deep across the path, the moon¡¯s pale light half-muted by a passing cloud. Each step felt heavier than the one before. I kept moving, carefully, my ears straining for any sign of pursuit. As I moved further from the glow of the tent, the oppressive darkness of the forest pressed in around me. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and a cold knot of dread twisted in my stomach. Something primal whispered that I wasn¡¯t alone. I quickened my pace, breaking into a run. The settlement was only five minutes away. If I pushed myself, I could shave a minute off that time. My ears pricked at the faint, rhythmic sound of padded footfalls. They were close¡ªbarely five meters behind me. My pulse hammered in my chest. It was stalking me, waiting for me to tire. The steady pace of its steps told me everything: this wasn¡¯t a desperate predator. It was confident. Calculating. I swallowed hard, forcing the rising tide of fear down. I skidded to a stop, spinning around as I pulled out Milli¡¯s Multi-tool. The illusion around me dropped as I extended the spear to its full length, activating the blade with a soft, menacing hum. My knuckles whitened on the shaft as I braced myself. The beast emerged from the shadows. It stood nearly as tall as me, its legs thin but ending in paws larger than my hands. Its muscular frame rippled under a mottled pelt of grey and brown, hackles raised in jagged spikes. Bright yellow eyes gleamed in the darkness, locking onto me with murderous intent. It snarled, lips curling back to reveal jagged teeth. The crack of its jaws snapping together echoed in the still night air. We stared each other down, every second stretching into an eternity. The wolf moved first, lunging at the tip of my spear with a flash of teeth. I jabbed at it, but my arms felt sluggish, my movements lacking the power I needed. Still, the strike was enough to keep it at bay. The beast circled me with fluid, predatory grace, its gaze unwavering. I couldn¡¯t give it an opening. If I did, I wouldn¡¯t survive. I held the staff in one hand, the other free, I reached for a coprolite bomb from my bandoleer, weighing the glowing stone in my palm. The wolf feinted left. I threw the bomb with all my strength, the projectile smacking into the side of its head with a sharp crack. The wolf yelped, jerking back as the glowing dust burst, momentarily blinding it on one side. I didn¡¯t hesitate. Retracting the blade, I rushed in, gripping the staff with both hands and swinging with everything I had. The weapon connected with its ribs in a sickening crunch, the force of the blow staggering the beast. It let out a pained whine. Before it could recover, I pivoted, whipping the staff around and slamming it into its hind leg. The bone shattered with a brittle snap. The wolf collapsed, letting out a piercing yelp as it tried and failed to stand on its ruined limb. I jumped back, staff at the ready, watching the creature with heaving breaths. The wolf¡¯s glowing yellow eyes burned into mine, but its hackles flattened against its body. Its chest rose and fell in ragged gasps, and it let out one final low growl¡ªa warning, not a threat. Slowly, it turned, limping away into the darkness, its silhouette swallowed by the trees. I didn¡¯t lower my weapon until the sound of its retreating footsteps faded completely. I stayed there and watched it disappear into the trees, the blue glow where it had been tagged by the coprolite the last thing to fade into the darkness. I withdrew my staff back into my inventory and started jogging down the road again, after my cooldown ended for my ''Morph Form'' I retook my goblin shape. I only saw a few small groups of feral goblins hiding among the trees watching me warily as I passed by. I dropped the illusion as I approached the gate, pushing against it and the heavy door swung open with a loud creaking noise, I snapped the latch closed and hooked the broken lock into it''s fastening. The notification for completing the quest buzzed, and I noticed I had another message from Milli but I pushed it aside. I felt invincible in that moment, I swaggered down the middle of the cobblestone streets, the lamplight glowing warmly, casting a hazy shadow as I walked under them. Not only had I completed the recon mission without being detected but I had also survived an encounter with a dire wolf without taking so much as a scratch. I made it to the tavern and ordered a drink from the Quokka tending the counter and savoured the taste as it ran down my throat, rich and sweet. I turned and rested my elbows on the counter looking over the lively scene of players celebrating, planning and arguing, it filled me with a sense of belonging. I finished my drink, tipped the Quokka five Crowns, twenty times more than the drink had cost, the creature squeaked in appreciation as I walked away. I went upstairs and opened the door, Sharla was sitting on the couch, arms folded. She got to her feet and jabbed me in the chest. "Where the fuck have you been!?" Chapter 17 Milli had been up late, working on enhancing her pantsuit when I¡¯d slipped out. She¡¯d heard my clumsy attempts at stealth but assumed I was just trying to be considerate while heading downstairs to the tavern. When I didn¡¯t return after a few hours, her curiosity got the better of her. Convinced I was meeting someone, she persuaded Andrew to join her in spying on me at the bar. When they couldn¡¯t find me there, she initially thought I¡¯d gone somewhere private with whoever I was supposedly meeting. Impatience turned to frustration, and she began asking around. After I told her that I was at the Rogues Poison she and Andrew decided to continue their stake out. When the bartender informed her I¡¯d been banned days earlier, panic set in. She messaged me during my fight with the wolf, calling me out on my lie. With no response, she returned to the apartment and woke up Sharla. Sharla, already on edge, immediately sent Milli and Andrew back out to search the town while she waited for any news. They¡¯d only been gone for fifteen minutes when I returned. As soon as I stepped through the door, Sharla was on me. "Where the fuck have you been!?" Her voice was strained and frantic as she poked me aggressively. "I told Milli, I was at¡ª" "Don¡¯t. Don¡¯t you dare try that with me," she interrupted, her expression a mix of concern and fury. "Milli told me everything. Don¡¯t lie to me again." The weight of her words crushed any resistance I might¡¯ve had. I exhaled sharply, my resolve breaking. "Fine," I said, my voice low. "I went to the goblin camp." Her face twisted with frustration. Milli and Andrew entered just as Sharla began to speak, her voice trembling with barely contained anger. She had messaged them, and they were panting from exertion as they walked in. "Together. We said we¡¯d figure it out together." She placed her hands on the breakfast bar, her fingers trembling. "Please, enlighten me, Ryan¡ªhow does you sneaking out, alone, to scope out probably the deadliest place we¡¯ve ever heard of, accomplish that?" I kept my voice steady, though my guilt was a heavy weight on my chest. "I knew you and Milli wouldn¡¯t let me do it alone. I couldn¡¯t risk you two getting hurt. If you¡¯d come, you wouldn¡¯t have made it within a kilometre of that place without getting caught." Milli¡¯s eyes widened in disbelief as realisation sunk in. "You did what?" Milli hissed dangerously, striding over with her fingers pinched together. He whole body trembled with rage "Milli, it was the only way," I said, holding my hands up. "There were hundreds of them. They¡¯ve trapped the roads, they¡¯ve got lookouts everywhere¡ª" "How the hell did you even pull that off?" Andrew interjected, placing a calming hand on Milli¡¯s shoulder. I recounted the story, emphasizing just how dangerous the approach had been. I could feel their disbelief mounting with every word. "How long have you had the ability to shapeshift?" Milli asked, staring at me as if I¡¯d just revealed I was some kind of alien. "And why didn¡¯t you tell us?" I hesitated, the words catching in my throat. "Well... since the beginning, basically. I didn¡¯t think it was useful for what we¡¯ve been doing. It just didn¡¯t come up in conversation." Her mouth hung open for a moment before she snapped it shut. "I can¡¯t even with you right now." She stormed off to her room, Andrew following close behind. The silence that followed was suffocating. Sharla and I sat there, neither of us willing to break it. Finally, she stood, her shoulders stiff, her expression unreadable. "You shouldn¡¯t have kept this from us," she said, her voice low but firm. "We¡¯re supposed to be a team. But you keep doing things by yourself." She turned to walk away, but something inside me snapped. "And what about you?" I said, my voice sharp and cutting. She stopped but didn¡¯t turn around. "What about all that fucked-up shit you said the other night?" I continued, rising to my feet. "You¡¯ve been going through some seriously dark shit, and you haven¡¯t said a word to me. I thought I was your friend!" Her shoulders stiffened, but she didn¡¯t respond. "You¡¯ve been spending all this time with Milli¡ªtalking with her, trusting her¡ªand all you do with me is spar, like I¡¯m just some project. Your fucking prot¨¦g¨¦." My hands clenched into fists. "I¡¯ve known you longer than she has. What did I do, Sharla? What did I do to make you treat me like this?" She didn¡¯t answer. Instead, she walked into her room and shut the door behind her. Her silence hit me like a slap. My anger and frustration boiled over, and I stormed into my room, slamming the door. Needing something¡ªanything¡ªto distract myself, I opened my quest notifications. Samantha¡¯s voice purred in my mind, dripping with admiration like a giddy schoolgirl barely able to contain herself.
Quest Complete: Solo Play Description: I am sorry I ever doubted you. You chose to infiltrate the goblin encampment, and not only did you waltz right up to the place, you did it in the middle of the night! This calls for something special. You have been such a good boy tonight. Reward: Samantha¡¯s Kiss.
The item appeared in my inventory: an amulet. I wasn¡¯t in the mood for Samantha¡¯s twisted back and forth, but I needed a distraction, so I pulled the amulet out to examine it. My inventory flagged it as magical, but there were no listed abilities, skills, or spells. It was made of silver, with a red gem the size of a grape set within; it sparkled in the light. It was pretty but otherwise unassuming, lacking the telltale shimmer of a magical item. Curiosity got the better of me, and I slipped it over my head. The moment the amulet touched my chest, a wave of pleasure surged through me. It spread like wildfire, igniting every nerve in my body and bathing me in brain-melting ecstasy. My mind dissolved into pure sensation, every inch of me enraptured, floating as though I¡¯d reached nirvana itself. Time lost meaning. I was adrift in bliss, detached from the world. Then, in an instant, the world came crashing back. It was as if I¡¯d fallen a thousand feet and collided with the ground. My vision swam, my ears rang, and everything felt wrong. The world looked washed out, like someone had turned the saturation all the way down. Sounds were hollow, their depth stripped away. The vibrant, sharp edges of reality had flattened into a dull, grey haze. I grabbed at the amulet, shaking it violently. "Give it back¡­ GIVE IT BACK!" I shouted, yanking it off and then slipping it back on, desperate to replicate whatever had happened. Nothing. Panic clawed at my chest. I held the amulet up to my face, trembling. "I¡¯ll do whatever you want, just give it back!" I stood there, clutching the cursed thing, when the faint buzz of a notification interrupted my spiralling. Two new messages. My heart raced as I opened the first.
Achievement Unlocked: Check Yo Shit Description: You¡¯ve equipped a cursed item. You can¡¯t say I didn¡¯t warn you. What was it? A sword that whispered sweet nothings? Maybe a shiny little ring? Whatever it was, congrats¡ªyou¡¯re now well and truly fucked. Reward: 1 informational pamphlet: ¡®Curses and You!¡¯
"Oh, fuck you," I muttered softly, too defeated to muster any real venom. I opened the next notification, Samantha¡¯s voice chiming in with a sickly sweet tone that made my skin crawl. She sounded like she was cooing at a puppy or a toddler.
New Persistent Quest: Plant One On Me, Baby Description: Mwuah! Oh, aren¡¯t you just the cutest little thing when you¡¯re high off your gourd? From now on, as long as you keep me happy and keep doing quests, you¡¯ll receive one charge of ¡®Samantha¡¯s Kiss¡¯ per day. Additionally, I¡¯ll toss you a charge for every personal message you earn. If you disappoint me¡­ well, let¡¯s not let that happen.
The notification disappeared, but the saccharine tone of Samantha¡¯s voice lingered in my head like a bad aftertaste. I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling as the world slowly crept back to normal. Colours regained their vibrancy, sounds grew fuller, but none of it felt real. A deep, gnawing desperation throbbed inside me. I didn¡¯t just want it¡ªI needed it. I pleaded with her. Begged. I even whispered aloud, asking Samantha for another quest, hoping for another kiss. But my words fell into the void, unanswered. Sleep eluded me. When I heard the faint murmur of Milli and Sharla in the common room, I dragged myself to the shower and turned the water cold. The icy sting barely registered, but it jolted me enough to face them. By the time I emerged, they were at the table, eating breakfast. Andrew wasn¡¯t there. Neither of them acknowledged me at first as I moved to the counter to make coffee. I sat down next to them, cradling the mug in my hands. Milli was the first to break the silence, her tone sharp and professional. ¡°Sharla and I have discussed last night, and we have a few things we¡¯d like to say.¡± She glanced at Sharla. ¡°Sharla?¡± Her tone reminded me of that time I got caught with a bong and my parents staged a full-blown intervention. My stomach tightened. Sharla cleared her throat and looked at me, her expression measured, as if reciting a prepared statement. ¡°I¡¯d like to start by admitting I haven¡¯t been the best version of myself lately,¡± she said bluntly. ¡°I should have treated you with more consideration and sought help sooner. I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯ll do better.¡± The bluntness caught me off guard. It sounded rehearsed, distant. ¡°Uh, thanks?¡± I muttered, distracted. I couldn¡¯t focus¡ªI just wanted to get through this, hoping for a new quest and another kiss. ¡°And it¡¯s fine. I¡¯m here if you need me.¡± Sharla gave me a small nod, but her expression didn¡¯t soften. Milli leaned forward, folding her hands on the table. Her eyes was sharp, piercing. ¡°I¡¯m disappointed that you chose not to trust us enough to talk to us about your plan,¡± she said. ¡°But, if we¡¯re being honest, we wouldn¡¯t have let you go.¡± I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. ¡°That said,¡± she continued, ¡°if you hadn¡¯t gone, I doubt we could have come up with a better solution. Still, we can¡¯t tolerate more risk-taking behaviour from you. You¡¯re the guild leader, and you need to act like it. We¡¯ve supported you from day one, and we depend on each other. If we¡¯re going to survive, we all need to work on our communication.¡± Her words were calm, even diplomatic, but the weight behind them pressed down on me. She called me the guild leader. The thought twisted something inside me. We¡¯d never explicitly treated me as the leader. If anything, Sharla had always been the final say on plans. Between her and Milli, I mostly offered suggestions during strategy meetings, specialising in ambush tactics. But lately, we¡¯d been using direct approaches¡ªmethods where my input had less value. ¡°I agree,¡± I said, nodding, my voice quieter than I intended. They both looked at me expectantly, waiting for more. ¡°Do you have anything else you¡¯d like to say?¡± Milli prompted, her tone firm but not unkind. I hesitated, feeling like I was missing a script. ¡°Um, oh. I apologize for not speaking to you and Sharla before going on that mission. Moving forward, I promise I won¡¯t go on quests alone without talking to you first.¡± Milli tilted her head, her brows lifting slightly. ¡°And you won¡¯t go outside the settlement alone at night, either?¡± ¡°Yeah, that too,¡± I said quickly, nodding. They exchanged a glance but didn¡¯t look entirely satisfied. We stood, and Sharla pulled me into a brief hug while Milli extended her hand for a shake. The gestures were stiff, forced, and uncomfortable. The unspoken words lingered in the air as we moved apart. I started pushing the couches aside to clear some space for practice. Sharla came over to help, flashing me a brief smile before we worked together to move the heavy furniture. Milli went back into her room to continue to tinker, she was tense and walked robotically. Louis trotted through the doggy door, his fluffy tail held high, and sat down to watch us. His piercing eyes had the weight of judgement, as always. A thought occurred to me. "Hey, I was using my new weapon earlier, and when I had the spear out, I felt slow and weak. Is there a way for me to train it up quickly?" I asked, directing the question at the dog. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. Louis sneezed, then fixed me with a withering look. "As I have told you before," he began, his tone dripping with condescension, "I have access to a repository of information encompassing everything from potion-making to level 2 combat skills. Your unwillingness to avail yourself of my assistance continues to confound me." He lifted a paw to rub his face, dislodging something from his fur with practised nonchalance. The idea of this dog instructing me was beyond ridiculous. I wasn¡¯t about to sit there and let a spoiled, pompous furball boss me around like I was some clueless kid, especially when he looked like a plush toy. "And how exactly do you propose to do that?" I asked, incredulous. Sharla stopped what she was doing, her expression thoughtful as she turned to look at Louis. He¡¯d frequently boasted about the sheer breadth of his knowledge, offering advice on everything from local lore to navigation. Without his insight on the ''filters,'' we¡¯d likely have gone after another one and walked straight into our deaths. Louis barked once. In response, a shimmering light filled the room, and a humanoid dog materialised before us. The figure was dressed in a snug leather breastplate, standing about five feet tall. Its yellow fur gleamed, reminiscent of a golden retriever, and its face beamed with a big, friendly smile. Its disturbingly human-like arms ended in four-fingered hands, while its digitigrade legs retained the shape of a dog¡¯s, ending in oversized paws. The creature stood there panting, tail wagging furiously, as holographic drool dripped harmlessly through the floor. Sharla¡¯s stoic mood evaporated as she let out a delighted squeal. "Aren¡¯t you the most adorable thing! Look at you¡ªyou¡¯re so handsome!" she gushed, skipping over to the creature. She reached out to cup its face in her hands, but her fingers passed through thin air, making her stumble forward. She stopped just short of colliding with Louis, who let out an exasperated sigh. The dog-man barked happily and produced a holographic longsword, its blade glimmering with faint light. "Are you ready to train?" the projection asked, its voice quivering with excitement. It stood at attention, vibrating with enthusiasm as its tail wagged so hard it blurred. Sharla giggled. I stared, dumbfounded. Louis dismissed the apparition with a short, irritated bark. The figure shimmered and disappeared, leaving only silence in its wake. "Would that be sufficient?" Louis growled, his tone edged with irritation. "Y-yeah, that''ll work," I said, still mildly disturbed by the unnerving creature that was standing before me just moments ago. "Are those things real...? Like, are there just human hybrids for the entire animal kingdom?" Louis snuffed indignantly. "Is that really what you want to talk about? Very well, the system has over a trillio¡ª" "Nope, forget I said anything. Can I take one of those things out for a spin?" I quickly interrupted, eager to avoid another one of his long lectures. Sharla had a disappointed look¡ªshe clearly wanted to hear more¡ªbut it quickly vanished when the possibility of training with one of the apparitions came up. "Oh, yeah, can we?!" she said, her voice dripping with excitement, like a child asking if they could play with a puppy. The holographic instructors Louis summoned were a mixed bag. They had "advanced" weapons training skills, but their incorporeal nature made the lessons slow and awkward. They tried to correct our stances and hand positions, but their furry hands passed right through us, forcing them to mime instructions from a distance. It was helpful, but it lacked the tangible feedback Sharla typically provided. Milli wandered out of her room after about an hour, saw the scene, and decided to stick around for the show. A holographic cocker spaniel woman was patiently demonstrating basic spear drills to me. Her overly polite demeanour clashed with Sharla¡¯s usual commanding presence, and I couldn¡¯t help but feel like I was being trained by an enthusiastic kindergarten teacher. "I¡¯ve activated the instructor tab in your guild leader menu," Louis said, curled up in Milli¡¯s lap while she sipped water and idly stroked his fur. "It cost a fair sum, but Milli has done an admirable job of bringing this operation into profitability and has approved the expense." I glanced at Milli, who offered a smug grin. "You''re welcome," she said before returning her attention to Louis, scratching behind his ears. After we finished, Louis spent a few minutes teaching me how to summon the instructors and select weapon skills for training. I learned that the creatures were real beings, and the holograms were merely projections of them. "So, we¡¯ll get different ones each time?" I asked, already scheming to ask one about what lay beyond the forest¡¯s boundaries. "Not necessarily," Louis explained. "There¡¯s a core group they rotate through, and you¡¯ll need to compensate them for their time." The compensation wasn¡¯t much compared to our amassed funds, but it was enough that we couldn¡¯t afford to overuse the service. With that settled, we wrapped up our training session and wandered into town. Now that we had intel on the goblin encampment, the next step was planning the attack. As we walked aimlessly through the streets, we messaged each other through the interface. It felt informal, but given the lingering awkwardness from earlier, it was less uncomfortable than speaking aloud.
Ryan: There are too many for any one group. Milli: I¡¯ve gotten kinda close with a few parties. I could ask if they¡¯d be willing to help? Sharla: We¡¯ve got Josh¡¯s group too. Ryan: We¡¯re gonna need a lot more than that. I¡¯m thinking at least a hundred people.
The number felt daunting. There was no way we¡¯d convince that many players to join what would almost certainly be a suicide mission. Still, I asked Milli to start spreading the word. Even if we couldn¡¯t recruit that many people, we might attract some unknown parties interested in the challenge.
Ryan: Let everyone know if they¡¯re willing to help, to leave a message with the bartender at the Pit. Talk to them and toss them some Crowns for the trouble. Milli: Why don¡¯t we just post a quest?
The idea hadn¡¯t occurred to me, but she was right. We were a guild, after all, and could likely gain clearance to post an official request. I decided to leave it up to her.
Ryan: If you think it¡¯ll work. Just don¡¯t bankrupt us by offering huge rewards. Milli: Sometimes it¡¯s like you don¡¯t even know me.
Her words were meant as a joke, but they lingered uncomfortably. Milli excused herself to figure out the logistics, leaving Sharla and me alone. We walked in silence for what felt like hours. I wondered when we had grown so far apart; our relationship had taken a dramatic turn. Before this, I had considered Sharla one of my closest friends. Now she was both more and less than that. I had leaned on her and learned from her; we had saved each other''s lives more than once and spent almost every waking hour together. She had taken on the role of mother, teacher, and¡ªdespite no one asking¡ªprotector for both Milli and me. She was our rock in the storm. I knew I should have spent more time checking in on her, but I selfishly assumed she didn''t need it. The entire time, my mind was preoccupied with the problem of completing a quest before the day was out. Samantha had made it very clear she wouldn''t let me sit idle. I began guiding us toward the community board, hoping I''d come up with a convincing reason to head out again along the way. In the distance, light reflected off a potion bottle. Standing behind it was the top-hat-wearing goblin. "That little fucker," I muttered under my breath. I sent Sharla a message as I pointed him out.
Ryan: That one¡¯s their leader!
I didn''t wait for her reply and marched straight over to the goblin, unsure of my plan. I wasn''t thinking clearly; I just wanted to do something to dispel the uncomfortable energy between us or at least provide a reliable distraction. I pushed past a group of people haggling with the dapper goblin, grabbed him by the collar, dragged him over the stand, and threw him to the ground. "Ryan! What are you doing?!" Sharla yelled as potions flew in every direction, smashing on the ground and mixing together to produce a cloying, sweet aroma that burned my nose. I picked the goblin up and lifted him off his feet, pinning him against a nearby wall. "Talk, you little prick," I said, shaking him. "What''s inside the tent? What are you doing here?" "Ryan! Put him down! You''re going to get the guards called on us!" Sharla had her hand on my arm, staring at me intently. "Oh no, I''m not letting this one go. He''s their leader; we might be able to use him to clear the path or at least get some information from him." The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. I had just said the same kind of thing Oliver would have when he abducted the gnome. Sharla looked at me in disbelief and took a step back. Before I could say anything else, the goblin choked out his words. "I''m not Nobblehob, you idiot! I''m his brother! I just sell his potions! Let me go, or he will send a thousand feral goblins to siege this settlement and burn it to the ground. He will know of this¡ªI will personally tell him¡ªand he will be waiting for you. We will laugh and drink as you are put to death for the amusement of our circus." I let the creature drop, no longer concerned with him. He scrambled away, scooping up potions before disappearing down an alleyway. "Sharla... I didn''t mean it like that," I said softly. She looked like she was about to storm off but then straightened herself. "I... I know you didn''t," she said quietly, not looking at me. "We gotta go. I don''t want to find out how the guards prosecute assault against merchants." Looking around, I noticed a crowd had formed a large circle around us, murmuring and pointing. I saw the tips of halberds approaching in the distance. Without speaking, I sent Sharla a message:
Ryan: Come with me. I''ve got somewhere we can lay low.
She gave a slight nod, and together we slipped away, weaving through the crowd before the guards could reach us. I led Sharla to the abandoned building I¡¯d used to practice my shape-shifting. We darted through winding streets, narrowly avoiding guards along the way. By the time we reached the derelict space, we were both out of breath. I slumped against the wall, feeling like a complete ass. Despite everything that had happened, a portion of my mind remained fixated on the amulet hanging under my clothes. I glanced at Sharla, who looked like she had something to say, her hands wringing together in deep contemplation. "I hate this place," she finally said after a few moments of silence. "It''s not exactly prime real estate, but at least it¡¯s private," I replied, trying to lighten the mood. She rolled her eyes at me. "You know what I mean. I was going to warn you that I wouldn¡¯t tolerate that kind of behaviour, but..." Her voice trailed off as she looked up through a gaping hole in the roof, revealing the clear blue sky above. "The rules aren¡¯t the same here. I used to be so sure of myself and what I wanted in life. I thought I knew right from wrong and was willing to fight to defend my beliefs." I didn¡¯t want to interrupt her, so I lowered myself to the ground, sitting cross-legged and leaning back on my hands. "I¡¯ve seen more death in the last few weeks than even when I was in that warzone." Her voice cracked slightly. "I never thought I¡¯d experience something like that again." Sharla had spent two years in conflict zones, helping civilians and peacekeepers in exchange for an accelerated pathway to getting her medical license. She rarely spoke about her time there, and I had never pressed her. I knew it was something she would rather leave buried. "I¡¯m not going to pretend I¡¯m alright with what you just did," she continued, her tone steadier now, "but I¡¯d be a hypocrite if I chastised you. I¡¯ve killed dozens of those things mercilessly. Hell, we¡¯ve used them for training. I know they¡¯d do the same¡ªor worse¡ªto us. They¡¯re our enemy, and we have to be ready to make hard choices. I just don¡¯t know if I can be the one to make them." I stood up and brushed the dust off my pants. "Well, good thing you¡¯re not the guild leader, then, huh?" I said with a small smirk. She looked at me like she was seeing me for the first time, her eyes wide and searching. "You can count on me. Milli too," I added. "I¡¯m not promising I¡¯ll make the right call every time, I¡¯ll need you more than ever in the coming weeks to make sure I don¡¯t go off the deep end. We¡¯ve got your back." Her lip trembled, and for a moment, it looked like she might cry. I walked over to her. Even sitting down, she was nearly as tall as I was. Slowly, I extended my arms, and she leaned into me, pressing her head against my chest. I rested my hand on her head, stroking her hair gently. She wrapped her arms around me, and for a moment, we stayed like that, letting the world fall away. Eventually, she pulled back, sniffling as she wiped at her tear-streaked cheeks. "You¡¯ve really grown up, you know that?" she said with a small, bittersweet smile. I let the compliment slide without comment. She stood, and together, we made our way back toward the main street. As we approached, a notification popped up in my interface.
System Notification: Your guild has incurred a fine: Assault of an approved trader: 500 Crowns. Options:
I pressed "Pay" with a sigh of relief that it wasn¡¯t a more serious punishment. ¡°Can we go out on a quest?¡± I asked finally. ¡°Just you and me. I wanna get some practice in with the configurations Milli¡¯s put into this thing.¡± I held up the Multi-tool, twirling the metallic rod between my fingers. Sharla tilted her head, considering. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we go back to the tavern before the guards find us?¡± ¡°I already settled it,¡± I said quickly. ¡°We were fined, and it¡¯s paid. We¡¯re good.¡± She hesitated for a moment, then said, ¡°We should invite Milli, too.¡± ¡°She¡¯s busy organizing that big quest and scouting for people to work with,¡± I replied, pulling the Multi-tool back into my inventory. ¡°Let¡¯s let her handle that.¡± Sharla nodded. ¡°Yeah, fair point.¡± We took a simple patrol quest, though the difficulty had noticeably increased. The expected goblin count had jumped to sixteen, even with just the two of us. The groups we encountered along the roads were larger and more aggressive, but Sharla and I handled them without much trouble. She mostly hung back, letting me take point, only stepping in when I got outflanked or overwhelmed. I had decided to focus on training my spear technique as my lessons were still fresh in my mind. After the third encounter, she asked, ¡°Can I try that thing? I saw a guy in a tourney once do something that might look stupid, but it¡¯s amazing for handling crowds.¡± I handed her the Multi-tool and stepped back as she gave herself some space. Sharla swung it over her head, mimicking a helicopter blade, and I bit my lip to keep from laughing. It did look ridiculous, but as the blade spun around her in a wide circle, I realised something: approaching her was next to impossible. The weapon¡¯s arc was perfectly positioned at goblin head height, a literal spinning wall of death. I studied her movements, watching how she adjusted her grip, the placement of her feet, and how she kept her balance. When she handed the Multi-tool back, I tried to copy the movement. It was harder than it looked, requiring precise coordination and timing. After a few pointers from Sharla, I started to get the hang of it. When the next group came down the road, we deliberately let them surround me. Sharla stayed hidden in the tree line, ready to jump in if things went sideways. As the goblins charged, I spun the weapon over my head. It was devastatingly effective, mowing down goblins as they mindlessly rushed forward. A few of the smarter ones hung back, but when they tried to flee, I pounced and took them down too. By the time we were done, I had taken down close to thirty goblins. ¡°That¡¯s called the moulinet in the manuals,¡± Sharla said as we walked back to the settlement, ¡°but everyone just calls it the ¡®windmill.¡¯¡± We returned to the settlement without incident. As we passed the community board, a brightly coloured flyer stood out from the usual sepia-toned parchments.
R.S.M. Industries Wants You! We are looking for eager, experienced, and fearless parties to assist in clearing the Goblin Circus. We have firsthand intel that we are happy to share and are willing to discuss a profit-sharing opportunity for your involvement. Think you¡¯ve got what it takes? Contact Josiah at the Bottomless Pit to apply!
I recognised the enthusiastic tone immediately. ¡°Milli,¡± I muttered. She only ever used this tone when she was in full ¡®corporate¡¯ mode. I needed to talk to her about naming the guild without consulting Sharla and myself. ¡°Who the hell is Josiah?¡± I asked Sharla. The tension between us had eased significantly on the way back, and we¡¯d started joking and talking like we used to. It was a relief to feel some normalcy returning. Sharla burst out laughing. ¡°You¡¯re hopeless. How have you gone this long without learning the bartender¡¯s name?¡± ¡°That thing has a name?¡± I asked, genuinely shocked. Now that she mentioned it, I did vaguely remember people calling him that, but I¡¯d never connected the dots. We passed through the gates, and a notification pinged on my interface: Samantha¡¯s Kiss gained one charge. My heart raced, the temptation to use it immediately was almost overwhelming. But I forced myself to wait. ¡°Tonight,¡± I thought. ¡°After everyone¡¯s gone to bed.¡± When we returned to the tavern, Milli was set up at a table near the bar, enthusiastically talking to a party of five players. Her face was alight with passion, but the man at the front of the group wore an unimpressed scowl. Before we got within earshot, he raised a hand, cutting her off mid-sentence, and jerked his head to signal his companions. They turned and walked away, leaving Milli standing there with a strained smile. ¡°Please feel free to come back if you change your mind!¡± she called after them, waving energetically despite the obvious dismissal. We sat down beside her. On the table were informational pamphlets she¡¯d made about the quest, along with a colourful sign reading ¡°Sign Up Here¡± hung neatly over the edge. ¡°Any luck?¡± I asked, though her deflated mood had already given me the answer. ¡°All people care about is money,¡± Milli huffed, crossing her arms. Her voice carried the indignation of someone who hadn¡¯t fully realised the irony of her own words. Sharla leaned back, lips twitching as she visibly resisted the urge to point it out. Instead, I filled the silence with, ¡°Yeah, some people. Am I right?¡± I shot Sharla a knowing glance, earning the faintest smirk. We stayed with Milli for the next few hours, lending moral support as group after group approached, listened to her pitch, and inevitably walked away. Milli¡¯s boundless enthusiasm dwindled with each rejection, her cheerful tone becoming flatter and more forced as the hours dragged on. ¡°How can they be so short-sighted?¡± Sharla said, trying to mollify Milli after a group outright laughed at the mention of ¡°profit-sharing.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t they realize that if we don¡¯t do something soon, we¡¯ll get swarmed by those things?¡± I shrugged, my thoughts elsewhere. A part of me wanted to head upstairs and check in with Samantha¡¯s Kiss, but I knew this wasn¡¯t the time. After a few more fruitless conversations, Milli handed Josiah¡ªthe quokka-man hybrid¡ª50 Crowns for acting as her unofficial receptionist. Then, we all headed upstairs. Back in the apartment, Sharla went to her room to clean up, leaving me alone with Milli. We brainstormed ways to improve our approach for recruiting help, but every idea felt either infeasible or too risky. Neither of us could find a solution that sounded remotely plausible. Our discussion was interrupted by a knocking at the front door. ¡°I¡¯ll get it,¡± I said, standing up and walking over. When I opened the door, I blinked in surprise. Josh was standing there, his usual scruffy appearance transformed. His hair was slicked back with pomade, parted neatly down the left side. He wore a crisp shirt, slightly too formal for his usual demeanour, and in his hand was a small, wilted bouquet of flowers. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. ¡°Oh, uh, hi Josh,¡± I said, mockingly formal. ¡°To what do I owe the pleasure?¡± Josh shuffled nervously. ¡°Is Sharla home?¡± Behind me, Milli let out an excited squeal and darted to Sharla¡¯s door, knocking rapidly. Sharla emerged a moment later, towel draped over her head, dressed in her crop top and flared denim pants from the night of the selection. Her preferred evening attire. Josh¡¯s face turned bright red. I glanced between the two, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. Not this again, I thought, stepping aside as Sharla quickly ushered Josh out into the tavern, murmuring something about wanting to ¡°talk.¡± Milli, meanwhile, was practically vibrating with excitement, her eyes flickering with the telltale glow of an interface chat. I seized the moment to slip into my room. Though it was still early, I considered using the amulet but decided against it. There was still time left in the day, and I wanted to squeeze in another round of training before calling it. I was about to head into the shower to wash off the accumulated goblin blood and grime when a knock sounded at my door. Opening it, I found Milli standing there. She looked pale, almost frightened. ¡°Milli, what¡¯s the matter?¡± I asked, stepping into the hallway, my eyes darting around the room. That¡¯s when I saw him. Edward stood in the doorway, his posture relaxed yet imposing, hands clasped behind his back like he owned the place. Slowly, he brought one arm forward, holding a quest flyer delicately between two fingers. His faint, amused smile didn¡¯t reach his cold eyes. ¡°I heard you were looking for some help,¡± he said, his voice dripping with calm confidence. Chapter 18 I sat with Milli beside me as Edward spoke, his voice smooth and measured, the tone of someone accustomed to commanding attention. His words were carefully chosen, each one tactfully articulating how he and his men could assist us. ¡°My men and I have been helping numerous parties clear quests and level up,¡± he began, his tone genial. ¡°We¡¯ve earned ourselves no small amount of trust within this little community, and I¡¯m willing to call in those favours to assist you.¡± Milli¡¯s hands were balled into fists, gripping the fabric of her pants tightly. I patted her hand in a gesture of reassurance before locking eyes with Edward. Despite the friendly smile plastered on his face, his icy demeanour betrayed his advantage. He was flaunting it, and we both knew it. ¡°Why would you want to help us?¡± I asked curtly, refusing to let him see my unease. ¡°Ryan, you wound me,¡± Edward said with a mock expression of hurt. ¡°I told you before¡ªI¡¯ve wanted to work with you the first time we met. We need to stick together if we¡¯re going to survive here, especially with how quickly the difficulty has been ramping up.¡± I clenched my jaw, feeling the weight of his veiled insinuation. Louis had explained that the monsters in the surrounding area would scale in strength to match the players¡¯ levels, and Edward and his men were undoubtedly accelerating the process. Yet I couldn¡¯t call him out on it¡ªhe was helping people, after all, and the monsters would grow stronger eventually. ¡°How many people can you bring to the table?¡± I asked, keeping my tone even. I couldn¡¯t afford to show him even a flicker of desperation. ¡°Well,¡± he said, leaning back slightly, ¡°I¡¯d have to ask around. It¡¯s not like I can just snap my fingers and conjure an army at my beck and call.¡± His smile faltered for the briefest of moments, and I caught a flicker of something cold in his eyes before it vanished. ¡°But realistically, I could rally forty or so. Plus the twenty men directly under my command.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not going to be enough,¡± I replied, doing my best to mask my astonishment. Edward¡¯s smile widened slightly. ¡°Of course. But my men would also work to drum up additional support. I am curious, however¡ªwhat¡¯s the game plan once you do get the numbers?¡± He tilted his head, the question landing like a punch to the gut. ¡°I hope you¡¯re not planning to just march them straight to the front door?¡± I cleared my throat, scrambling for a response. ¡°We¡¯re working on something,¡± I lied, feeling the sweat start to gather on my palms. ¡°Of course you are,¡± he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to suggest otherwise.¡± He began pacing slowly, his hands clasped behind his back. ¡°But tell me¡ªhave either of you ever led a group of that size before?¡± I didn¡¯t answer. His words struck a chord too close to the truth. ¡°I have,¡± he continued smoothly. ¡°My men and I have been through countless missions together. Each one is a capable tactician and fighter, able to make split-second decisions under pressure. Without proper leadership and guidance, you¡¯ll be walking straight into a slaughter.¡± He stopped and fixed his attention on me. ¡°I¡¯m sure I don¡¯t need to tell you that, Ryan.¡± As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. Our fight with the troll had laid bare how unprepared we were for high-level coordination. Even with our small party, staying calm under pressure had been a challenge. Before I could formulate a response, the door opened behind us. Sharla stepped in, pinching the bridge of her nose and looking like she¡¯d just come from a difficult conversation. Her expression shifted the moment she saw Edward. The air between them thickened with palpable tension. She didn¡¯t speak, but her body language screamed hostility. She shifted her weight, adopting a subtle but unmistakable fighting stance. Though she and Milli had never met Edward, I¡¯d described him in enough detail that they both knew who he was on sight. Edward sensed the shift instantly. ¡°I¡¯ll let you talk it over,¡± he said, the same calm, measured tone masking the potential powder keg. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t want to overstay my welcome.¡± He walked past Sharla, holding her gaze impassively as he exited. She didn¡¯t move or say a word until the door clicked shut behind him. "What the hell was he doing here?¡± Sharla said, whirling around to Milli and me. Her voice was sharp, her body still tense from Edward¡¯s presence. Milli was the one to answer. ¡°He saw the quest and offered to help,¡± she said quietly, sinking into the couch. ¡°He¡¯s got a lot of pull with the parties his men have been helping.¡± Sharla clenched and unclenched her jaw, her teeth grinding audibly as she processed the information. She stayed frozen near the entrance, a storm brewing behind her eyes. ¡°He also raised some good points about coordinating the raid,¡± Milli added, her tone pragmatic but weary. ¡°I think we might need to work with him.¡± I stood up, staring at her like she¡¯d just suggested inviting a serial killer to dinner. ¡°Are you serious?¡± I demanded. Milli curled into a ball, pulling her knees to her chest as she met my eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t look at me like that! I don¡¯t want to work with him any more than you do. But if you haven¡¯t been paying attention, we¡¯re not exactly making progress,¡± she snapped, her frustration bubbling to the surface. Sharla¡¯s expression softened, and her shoulders sagged as she let out a long breath. She walked over to me and placed a hand on my shoulder, her grip firm but reassuring. ¡°It¡¯s only been a day. We¡¯ve got time,¡± she said, looking me in the eye. ¡°But we need to consider our options. Like it or not, we¡¯re all in the same boat. I doubt he¡¯d risk his chance to get out of here over some revenge scheme.¡± I sighed heavily and sat down at the kitchen counter, running my hands through my hair. Sharla continued, her voice steady but measured. ¡°Let¡¯s be honest¡ªif he wanted you dead, he wouldn¡¯t have let you go. I¡¯m not saying we roll out the red carpet for him, but we can¡¯t afford to dismiss him outright.¡± She was right, and I hated it. Edward wasn¡¯t someone I wanted anywhere near us, but the thought of organising a raid without proper leadership¡ªor numbers¡ªfelt like an impossible task. I leaned back, staring at the ceiling as the tension in the room hung heavy. It was late by the time we wrapped up the conversation, and it was clear that we all needed rest. Sharla and I made a token effort to train, but our hearts weren¡¯t in it. Afterwards, we ate a quick meal from the fridge in silence before retreating to our rooms. The moment the door clicked shut behind me, I pulled the amulet out from under my shirt. My fingers trembled slightly as I examined it, searching for any obvious way to activate it. There were no buttons, no switches¡ªjust the smooth, red, glittering gem that felt deceptively mundane. I pulled up my inventory and highlighted the item. A tooltip appeared, and my heart skipped a beat.
Samantha¡¯s Kiss 1 charge
Without hesitation, I slammed the ¡°Activate¡± button. The sensation consumed me immediately. I fell back onto my bed as pure bliss coursed through me, waves of ecstasy so intense that I could hardly breathe. My eyes rolled back in my skull, and I let out shaky, enraptured breaths. When the effect ended, it left me drained but unsatisfied, the craving gnawing at me with renewed ferocity. The experience was incredible, but it lacked the overwhelming punch of the first time. I sat at the edge of my bed, letting the world come back into focus, when the familiar buzz of a message pulled me from my daze.
Hoarthin: You put on quite the show in my place of business. You clearly have talent, and I¡¯d like to offer you a chance to work out your frustrations on some willing opponents. If you¡¯re interested, come to the Poison. The offer stays open as long as you¡¯re in town, so no need to rush. Think about it.
I let out a bitter laugh as I closed the message. There was no way I was going to take them up on that. For all I knew, it was a trap to get me jumped by those guys from the other night. I shook my head and began my nightly exercises, hoping the physical strain would drown out the cravings clawing at the back of my mind. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Then another notification appeared. Samantha¡¯s voice filled my mind, her honeyed tone both alluring and mocking.
New Quest: King of the Ring Description: Ooooh, that sounds like fun! I would just love to see you perform with all those sweaty men. You are to accept the offer and become the crowned champion of the fighting pits. Reward: For every match you win, I¡¯ll give you one personalised message.
I stared at the screen, my stomach twisting into knots. Fuck. The realisation settled over me like a lead weight¡ªSamantha wasn¡¯t just idlily toying with me anymore. She was invested, and I wasn¡¯t sure if that made things better or worse. The quest had answered my question, though: the offer wasn¡¯t a trap¡ªor at least she didn¡¯t think so. I was thankful Samantha had moved on from outright threatening me, but the implication of the reward was clear. If I wanted more of my fix, I¡¯d have to be her ¡°good little boy¡± and play along. The thought gnawed at me as I exercised, every movement feeling like a battle between my pride and my dependency. I mulled over how I could possibly approach the subject with the girls, but every time I imagined their faces, disappointment etched deep into their features, fear gripped me. What if they took the amulet from me and forced me to go cold turkey? I wasn¡¯t ready to face that. Exhausted, I fell asleep almost instantly when my head hit the pillow. My mind swirled, and I found myself in Samantha¡¯s lap again, her fingers tracing patterns across my scalp. What had once been a sweet dream had turned into a tense nightmare. I woke up in a cold sweat, my heart pounding. It was the middle of the night. Sleep wasn¡¯t going to come back easily, so I got up and wandered into the common room. Sharla was on the couch, a half-empty bottle in her hand. My stomach sank. Not again. I walked over tentatively. ¡°Hey buddy, how you doing?¡± I asked, keeping my tone light and careful. She turned to look at me, her expression a mix of confusion and indignation at my sing-song greeting. ¡°Uh¡­ yeah, I¡¯m fine. What about you? You look like shit.¡± She took another swig from the bottle before holding it out toward me. ¡°Want some?¡± Her voice had a slight slur, but she was far more composed than the last time I¡¯d seen her like this. ¡°I¡¯m good. Just having a bit of trouble sleeping,¡± I said, waving off the offer as I walked over to the couch. My face must have betrayed the weight of my thoughts, because her eyes lingered on me for a moment. ¡°Yeah, seems like that¡¯s going around.¡± She nodded toward Milli¡¯s door, where a line of light spilled from the crack at the bottom. I stepped over the back of the couch and dropped down beside her, taking the bottle from her hands. I took a swig, the liquid burning its way down my throat. I sucked in a breath, grimacing. ¡°You sure you¡¯re alright?¡± I asked, handing the bottle back. She hesitated, then sighed. ¡°Yeah... It¡¯s just Josh,¡± she admitted, looking down at the bottle in her hands. ¡°What about him? Trouble in paradise?¡± I teased, nudging her arm with a grin. ¡°Oh, screw you.¡± She pushed me lightly, though her lips curled into a faint smile. ¡°No, it¡¯s not like that. Not for me, anyway. I... led him on. I didn¡¯t mean to.¡± Her voice dropped, and she avoided looking at me. ¡°After the troll fight, we got to talking, and I kissed him. I don¡¯t know what I was thinking. He¡¯s a nice guy and all, but... Let¡¯s just say I¡¯ve had my fill of relationships.¡± Her fingers absently brushed over her ring finger. ¡°Ooo, dang. Didn¡¯t realise he was into old people,¡± I said with mock innocence. ¡°You¡¯re such a dick sometimes, you know that?¡± She laughed despite herself and leaned her head on my shoulder. We sat there for a moment, the air between us lighter now, though tinged with unspoken thoughts. Eventually, she straightened up, her face contemplative. ¡°I¡¯ve got enough to worry about without dealing with a relationship on top of it all.¡± She gestured broadly with the bottle, the liquid sloshing audibly. ¡°Everything we¡¯re doing¡ªeverything we¡¯re trying to do¡ªI can¡¯t add that to the pile.¡± Sharla took one last long pull from the bottle and set it on the table with a loud ¡®CLACK¡¯. Stretching her arms over her head, she stood and yawned. ¡°I¡¯m gonna try and get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.¡± She stumbled slightly as she made her way to her room, her steps slower and heavier than usual. ¡°Hey,¡± I said, turning around before she reached her door, ¡°I¡¯m gonna go for a walk. Clear my head.¡± Sharla stopped and turned back to me, narrowing her eyes. ¡°I¡¯d like to remind you that I could break your leg, heal you, and break it again. Don¡¯t think I won¡¯t.¡± She punctuated her threat with a hand gesture: two fingers pointed at her eyes, then at me. I laughed nervously, holding my hands up in surrender. ¡°I¡¯m staying inside the settlement. Promise.¡± Her stern expression softened into a tired smile, and she shook her head. ¡°Don¡¯t be an idiot,¡± she said, disappearing into her room. I hadn¡¯t planned on visiting The Rogue¡¯s Poison until tomorrow, but the promise of earning another charge for the amulet proved too tempting. Following my mini-map, I navigated the quiet streets to the bar. As I stepped inside, the pungent smell of stale alcohol and smoke hit me like a punch to the face. My eyes darted around the room, searching for the men I¡¯d fought last time. Not seeing them, I allowed myself to relax¡ªslightly. The bald bartender caught sight of me and, without a word, nodded toward a door at the back wall. I crossed the room, pushed it open, and stepped into a cramped, dimly lit space that reeked of tobacco smoke. It was more like a supply closet than an office, with a desk crammed against the far wall, leaving barely enough room for anyone to squeeze behind it. Seated in a chair on the other side of the desk was a dwarf. His black hair was tied into a long, sleek ponytail, and small glasses perched atop a nose that looked like it had been broken and re-broken countless times. Broad shoulders stretched his white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and suspenders cut across his thick chest. His hands, covered in thin silvery scars, rested on the desk, a testament to a life spent in hand-to-hand combat. A stub of a cigar burned in the corner of his mouth, sending thin wisps of smoke curling into the stagnant air. Most striking of all was his beard¡ªlush and long, with countless small plaits adorned with golden rings. One central braid extended below the desk, the rings jingling faintly when he shifted. The dwarf glanced up from the paperwork in front of him, peering over his glasses. Then, with a dismissive grunt, he returned his attention to the page, his quill scratching across the parchment. I waited, feeling more awkward with each passing second, until I couldn¡¯t take it anymore and cleared my throat. He raised a single finger, finishing his line before placing the quill back in the inkwell. Leaning back in his chair, he let out a long sigh, took a deep drag from his cigar, and exhaled a plume of smoke directly at me. ¡°So,¡± he began, his voice a deep baritone that seemed to resonate in my chest, ¡°you¡¯re the one that wrecked shop the other night?¡± He paused, then smirked. ¡°What a stupid question. Glen wouldn¡¯t have let you in otherwise. So¡ªdid you come here to tell me to shove the offer up my hairy arse, or do I have a new fighter?¡± The amulet pressed against my chest coldly. I clenched my fists. ¡°I¡¯m here to fight.¡± ¡°Wonderful!¡± he said, clapping his scarred hands together with surprising volume. ¡°I¡¯ll send you the details of your first match later. For now, stay out of trouble and get some rest. You look like shit.¡± Everyone is a fucking critic. I thought to myself. My heart sank. I¡¯d been hoping for another charge immediately, but it seemed like I¡¯d have to wait. ¡°What? You had me come all the way down here just for that?¡± The dwarf stopped and looked up again, his smirk turning into a bark of laughter. ¡°The way Glen talked about you, I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Honestly? You look fresh off your mother¡¯s tit.¡± He chuckled to himself, took another drag of his cigar, and waved me off dismissively. ¡°Now fuck off. I¡¯ve got work to do.¡± Before I could think of a retort, he was already back to his paperwork. With a frustrated sigh, I turned and left the office, the smoke-filled room still clinging to my clothes as I stepped back into the bar and then out the door into the alleyway. I wandered the settlement until the first rays of dawn painted the sky. Tired but oddly at peace, I headed back to the tavern. The warm smell of cooking hit me as soon as I opened the door to our apartment. Sharla was at the stove, working with a practiced efficiency. A full spread of food was already laid out: pancakes, fried eggs, saut¨¦ed vegetables, and thick slices of ham. My stomach growled loudly in anticipation. ¡°Oh hey!¡± she called out, flipping a pancake onto a growing stack. ¡°I was starting to get worried. You got back just in time.¡± ¡°That smells incredible. What¡¯s the occasion?¡± I asked, settling onto a stool at the counter. Sharla turned with a smile, the early light catching the edges of her features. ¡°Honestly? I just needed an outlet. Thought I¡¯d whip up something tasty for everyone, boost morale, you know?¡± She placed down plates already loaded with food, and I eagerly served myself a hefty portion. While I dug into my stack of pancakes, she walked over and knocked on Milli¡¯s door. Milli emerged, looking like she¡¯d crawled out of a wind tunnel. Her hair was a chaotic tangle, and her face was smeared with what looked like green grease. Sharla poured her a cup of coffee, and she clutched it with both hands, groaning like a zombie. ¡°Up late?¡± I asked, pausing between bites. Milli groaned again, more emphatically this time. ¡°Uggghhhhhh.¡± She slumped into a chair and took a gulp of coffee, her eyes half-lidded. ¡°That annoying shit hasn¡¯t shut up since I put the quest up. I get a notification every single time someone reads it. If I have to hear that prepubescent screecher one more time, I swear I¡¯m gonna flip out.¡± Sharla and I exchanged confused looks. ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Sharla asked, tilting her head. ¡°The quest voice!¡± Milli exclaimed. ¡°That troll¡ªprobably some rage-baiting loser living in his mom¡¯s basement¡ªis all I hear every time I get a quest notification!¡± Sharla¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°Wait... I think we might have different voices for our quest notifications. What does your voice sound like, Ryan?¡± I froze mid-sip of coffee, and the question hit me like a slap. The sudden coughing fit that followed sent a spray of egg and coffee across the counter. ¡°Dude! Gross!¡± Sharla exclaimed, stepping back to avoid the mess. ¡°You¡¯re lucky you didn¡¯t get any on my plate.¡± ¡°Sorry,¡± I croaked, reaching for a napkin. ¡°Wrong hole¡­¡± Sharla handed me a towel as I cleaned up the mess. ¡°Well?¡± she pressed. ¡°What does your quest voice sound like?¡± I avoided her stare, still dabbing at the counter. ¡°Uh¡­ you know, just¡­ some lady, she sounds nice enough I guess¡± I said, hoping to sound nonchalant. My heart pounded as I spoke. Milli perked up at that, her curiosity sharpening like a knife. ¡°Ooooh la la,¡± she teased, shimmying her shoulders dramatically. ¡°You got a sexy voice, huh?¡± I felt the colour drain from my face as the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. A part of me warned against saying anything disparaging against that psycho. ¡°Heh, yeah¡­ I guess I got lucky,¡± I said, forcing a weak laugh. ¡°I¡¯m gonna go crash, long night¡± I blurted, desperate for an escape. I stood, leaving my plate half-full. ¡°Sharla, mind if we go out again today? I want to work on my spear skills some more.¡± Before Sharla could respond, Milli whipped around to her. ¡°Wait¡ªdid you two go out without me?¡± she asked, narrowing her eyes. That was my cue. While Sharla scrambled to answer, I slipped away to my room, closing the door behind me with a relieved sigh. Chapter 19 I felt the familiar, urge to use the amulet again. Despite managing a short nap, I couldn¡¯t shake the restlessness that had been gnawing at me. Wasting the day in bed wasn¡¯t an option, so I got up and wandered into the common room. Sharla was sitting cross-legged on the ground, deeply engaged in conversation with a Chihuahua man dressed in flowing robes. She was positioned to be eye-level with him, her expression serious and attentive. Not wanting to interrupt, I decided to call out the spear trainer again. The Cocker Spaniel woman materialised, tail wagging enthusiastically as she greeted me. ¡°Hello, sir! Ready for some more beginner drills?¡± she barked excitedly, the volume startling the Chihuahua man, who began trembling violently. I winced and raised my hands in apology. ¡°Not today. I¡¯d like to focus on some crowd control moves with my spear,¡± I said, producing the weapon. Her eyes lit up as she eagerly equipped her own spear, and we got to work. She started with the windmill attack Sharla had shown me previously. It felt good to revisit the move, especially with her detailed corrections. She pointed out that I should keep my shoulders square and relaxed to generate more force, which I hadn¡¯t realised before. From there, she showed me how to transition the windmill into thrusts, slashes, and defensive parries. We moved on to other techniques, including a wide swinging arc, a push-and-jab, and quick thrust-and-withdraw motions. It was a lot of information to take in, and I found myself struggling to memorise the precise footwork and hand placements. My progress with the quarterstaff had been more intuitive¡ªevery time I levelled up, new movements and ideas seemed to flow naturally into my mind. Combat practice and sparring smoothed the gaps over time, but this felt much more like learning theory. Without physical feedback, the techniques were harder to grasp. The trainers were helpful, but I realised I needed to get back out into the field to put these moves into practice. Milli, meanwhile, had decided to forgo sleep entirely and gone into town to do some ¡°face time¡± with potential raid volunteers. She had looked disappointed she couldn¡¯t come with us but understood that her role in organising the larger mission was critical. ¡°Don¡¯t think you two are getting out of the hard work,¡± she had said before leaving. ¡°You¡¯re both going to be out there the moment you get back.¡± Sharla and I knew how important the raid was, but skipping training felt like an unacceptable risk. If we weren¡¯t sharp enough for battle, it wouldn¡¯t matter how well we organised the raid¡ªit would all be for nothing. Both Sharla and Milli had plateaued at level 3 in all their frequently used skills, earning experience so slowly it hardly seemed to make a dent. Sharla, in particular, had been frustrated with her lack of progress in her healing skill. That¡¯s why she had been talking to the Chihuahua man. He had suggested an unsettling solution: deliberately taking hits from low-level enemies and then using her healing skill to treat the wounds. ¡°It works even better if you¡¯re healing someone else,¡± he¡¯d said. Sharla had glanced at me then, but I refused flatly before she could even ask. The thought of her intentionally getting hurt¡ªor worse, asking me to volunteer¡ªmade my stomach turn. Sharla had tried to reassure me. ¡°It¡¯ll be fine,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure it¡¯s only minor wounds¡ªnothing serious.¡± But my unease lingered. Just a few nights ago, she¡¯d confided in me about how much she hated how healing trivialised pain and injuries. Now, here she was, about to put herself in harm¡¯s way for the sake of levelling up. It felt wrong. Even so, I didn¡¯t push further. After all the tension between us recently, I didn¡¯t want to start a fight¡ªnot when things were finally starting to feel normal again. I just hoped she¡¯d be careful. We took another goblin quest and set out. While walking through the streets, I noticed a man dressed in the signature khaki pants of Ed¡¯s men. He had a chainmail shirt on and a shield strapped to his back, making him easy to identify. As we passed, I caught him pointing at me while talking to someone. ¡°Ed sure doesn¡¯t waste any time,¡± I thought. ¡°He must be trying to prove he¡¯s serious about helping us.¡± We decided to head through the north gate. The goblin numbers in that area were growing the fastest, making it the most efficient spot to grind out kills in the short time we had. Not long after entering the forest, we came upon a group of six goblins bickering over a carcass. They were so engrossed in their argument that they didn¡¯t notice our approach. I lunged forward, sweeping my spear in a wide arc. Planting my feet and heaving, I cleaved through three of them in a single slice. Sharla sprinted ahead, grabbing one of the goblins and tossing it back a full six feet. It collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud, stunned and struggling to get up. She pulled her warhammer from her back, spun quickly, and with a vicious swipe took another goblin¡¯s head clean off. The remaining goblins froze for a moment before one of them yanked a massive curved tooth from its loincloth, wielding it like a dagger. It lunged at Sharla, who had seen the attack coming and braced herself, lowering her shield to take the hit. I spotted the thrust just as the goblin wound up and instinctively shot my spear forward. The blade passed cleanly through its chest, killing it instantly. ¡°Ryan! What are you doing?¡± Sharla¡¯s voice was sharp with anger as she spun to face me, her eyes blazing. ¡°I told you I was going to let them hit me!" ¡°Fuck that,¡± I shot back, walking toward her, my grip on the spear tightening. ¡°Is that seriously what we¡¯re resorting to? What¡¯s next? Are you going to ask me to stab you? Where does this end?¡± I stopped a foot away from her, not breaking her hard stare. ¡°What about that thing?¡± I pointed at the writhing goblin she¡¯d thrown. ¡°You can heal it, right? Instead of letting them stab you, why not just heal the last one left standing, and then we finish it off?¡± Her mouth opened, then closed again as she tried to form an argument but came up short. The idea of prolonging the goblin¡¯s suffering felt distasteful, but it was better than watching Sharla deliberately take hits. ¡°Can we please just try it, Sharla?¡± I asked, my voice softer but insistent. She let out a deep sigh, her expression shifting to one of weary resignation. After a long moment, she walked over to the writhing goblin and murmured a prayer, casting her healing spell. The goblin¡¯s leg snapped back into place, and it immediately began to crawl away. Before it could get far, I stepped forward and drove my spear cleanly into its heart. It stopped moving instantly. Sharla stared at the goblin¡¯s lifeless body for a moment before glancing at me. Her expression was conflicted¡ªpart frustration, part relief. I didn¡¯t need her to say anything to know she was still uneasy about the decision, but at least this way, she wasn¡¯t putting herself directly in harm¡¯s way. ¡°Thank you,¡± I said quietly, pulling my spear free. She nodded slightly, turning away as we prepared to move on to the next group. The experience Sharla gained from healing monsters was noticeably less than when she healed me, but slightly more than if she healed herself. ¡°Should probably let the trainer know about that,¡± I said as we finished off the last of a group of goblins we¡¯d encountered. ¡°The way he talked, it was like healing people was some sort of holy sacrament,¡± Sharla replied, wiping her warhammer clean of gore. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if healing monsters was some kind of religious taboo.¡± We had stretched our time out as much as we could without risking Milli¡¯s wrath. Both Sharla and I managed to gain a level in our focused skills. Sharla¡¯s healing spell now worked from about ten feet away, with a much shorter cooldown¡ªdown to nearly a minute. My spear had gained a bleed effect, weakening enemies over time. Though I still planned to use my quarterstaff for most fights, it was nice to have a more lethal option up my sleeve. I refrained from using my ¡°Hazard Hunter¡± skill for now; neither of my level 3 abilities showed visible experience gain, and I suspected that pushing them higher would require venturing beyond the forest¡¯s boundaries. Back at the tavern, chaos greeted us. Milli was surrounded by a large crowd, frantically trying to answer a barrage of questions from people eager to sign up for the raid. They overwhelmed her with inquiries about training schedules, logistics, and meeting locations. I could smell Ed¡¯s handiwork all over this¡ªthe sheer number of people made it clear. Sharla and I pushed through the throng and started answering questions as best we could. It was another power-play. While we couldn¡¯t reasonably complain about Ed sending us so many people, it exposed just how unprepared we were for the reality of organising something on this scale. After nearly an hour of wrangling the crowd, we had thirty-eight people signed up. Many of them were recent class recipients, likely taking over from players who hadn¡¯t survived. Sending them away wasn¡¯t an option, but we¡¯d need to work hard to get them up to speed so they wouldn¡¯t get immediately stomped. When there was finally a break in the onslaught, we slipped away from the tavern. Milli, now satisfied that we¡¯d met our recruitment quota for the day, insisted on heading out on another quest to ¡°balance things out.¡± Sharla and I exchanged a look but ultimately agreed¡ªit was easier than arguing. We kept it simple, skipping any grinding for skills. By the time we returned to the tavern, it was late afternoon, with only a few hours of daylight left. When we walked in, one of Ed¡¯s men was leaning casually against the bar, chatting with Josiah. The man wore a linen top but kept the signature khaki pants, wearing them like a badge of office. As soon as he saw us, he wrapped up his conversation and walked over. Sharla and Milli kept moving, but I stopped to talk to him, watching him cautiously. I didn¡¯t recognise his face, but the connection to Ed was clear. ¡°Hey, glad I caught you,¡± he said, flashing a bright smile. His teeth were too white, his expression overly friendly. ¡°Ed wants to know if you¡¯ve changed your mind about letting us help out.¡± ¡°Tell Ed that if he really wants to help, he should focus on getting these people trained instead of just sending waves of recruits to prove a point,¡± I said dryly. The man laughed, an easy, practised sound. ¡°Hahaha, yeah, he can be a real jokester sometimes. I¡¯ll pass along the message.¡± He offered his arm, clearly intending to add me to his contacts. I ignored the gesture, turned on my heel, and headed upstairs. Once inside the apartment, I let out a long sigh. Milli and Sharla sat on the couch, their heads bent together as they discussed how to organize the new raid members into manageable training groups. Sharla¡¯s role was clear: she¡¯d be leading the drills. Milli, naturally, was planning the logistics. Their voices rose and fell in quiet determination, their energy unwavering. I sank into the other couch, leaning back with a heavy sigh. The tension from my earlier meeting with Ed''s man lingered, gnawing at me like an itch I couldn¡¯t scratch. I replayed the conversation in my mind, picking it apart like a vulture with a carcass. "They weren¡¯t even trying to be subtle about it," I murmured to myself. Sending another emissary was Ed¡¯s way of gloating, his admission that he knew exactly how much power he wielded¡ªand how little we did. Eventually, the planning wound down, and we all decided to turn in. I felt a strange mix of relief and dread. Another day down, another charge earned. The cravings were unbearable, clawing at my sanity like a rabid animal. I lay down on my bed, clutching the amulet in my hand, and consumed the charge. The moment it hit, I felt the familiar rush, the intoxicating wave that swallowed me whole. But as the bliss faded, it left behind the same hollow ache, a shadow darker than before. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! As I began to descend into the fog, a message blinked into my interface.
Hoarthin: Got you a fight. Meet me at the back of the church grounds. We have a bit of paperwork to do before we make this official.
¡°Why won¡¯t anyone give me a fucking break?¡± I groaned, exasperated. Beneath the frustration, though, a flicker of excitement stirred. Another chance. Another charge. My pulse quickened at the thought. Dragging myself to the shower, I turned the dial to full heat, trying to scrub away the haze clinging to my mind. When that didn¡¯t work, I cranked it to cold, letting the icy water shock my system. It didn¡¯t do much to shake the grey fog, but it would have to do. I needed an excuse. The girls couldn¡¯t know about this. Not yet. I stepped out of the shower and quickly typed up a message in the group chat, brainstorming as I towelled off. I hesitated, reading over the message before I hit send.
Ryan: Hey, I just got a quest. I need to go work for the church for a bit. I shouldn¡¯t be back too late. Sharla: What? Why? That seems really random. Can I see the quest? Milli: What did you do to the church, Ryan!?
I¡¯d been prepared for this. Earlier, I¡¯d spent some time drafting a fake quest card, carefully mimicking the system¡¯s sarcastic tone. Still, my heart raced as I pasted it into the chat, worried they¡¯d see right through it.
Ryan: New Quest: Son of a Preacher Man Description: The church has branded your callous actions as an affront to their teachings. Lucky for you, they¡¯ve moved on from burning heretics at the stake. Not only did you kill someone of your own species, you didn¡¯t even try to ask for forgiveness. It¡¯s been a month! That¡¯s cold, dude. Report to the church to receive your penance. Reward: You might not go to hell. Milli: Why don¡¯t you invite us? We could go with you? Sharla: If they expect you to go outside the settlement at night by yourself, they¡¯re going to be sorely mistaken.
I let out a long, slow breath. They¡¯d bought it¡ªat least for now.
Ryan: If they ask me to do anything dangerous, I¡¯ll let you two know before I try anything. @Milli, I tried to invite you two already, but it won¡¯t let me.
After a few more exchanges, they dropped the subject, satisfied with my reassurances. I hated lying to them, but what choice did I have? Dressed and ready, I slipped out of the apartment and into the night. My footsteps echoed faintly in the empty streets, the cool air biting at my skin. The church grounds loomed ahead, and with them, the promise of another charge. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered how long I could keep this up before everything came crashing down. But for now, I pushed the thought aside. Tonight, I¡¯d focus on the fight. Everything else could wait. The church grounds were quiet as I arrived, the air thick with the mingled scents of damp earth and stone. Hoarthin sat on a low stone bench facing a small topiary garden, its serenity marred by heavy gravestones that sat behind thick stone slabs. A smouldering cigar dangled from his lips, the acrid smoke curling lazily around him. As I rounded the corner, his sharp eyes caught mine. He took a long draw from the cigar, the tip glowing brighter, then exhaled a thick cloud as he grinned and hopped off the bench. Smoothing out his beard, the golden rings threaded through its braids clinked softly. ¡°Took your time,¡± he said, voice a rumbling baritone. ¡°No matter. You¡¯re filler for tonight, so we¡¯re not exactly running on a tight schedule. Before we get started, sign this.¡± He produced a tightly rolled scroll bound with an iron band. I unrolled it, scanning the text written in blocky runic script, each line neatly translated into English below. The dense legal jargon all but screamed you¡¯re on your own. ¡°This isn¡¯t to the death or anything, right?¡± I asked warily, half-expecting Samantha¡¯s machinations to push me into something lethal. ¡°Not at all,¡± Hoarthin said with a casual wave of his hand. ¡°The nuns wouldn¡¯t stand for that. You might get a bit dinged up, sure, but they¡¯ll patch you right up. No hard feelings.¡± I blinked. ¡°Wait¡ªthe nuns know about this?¡± ¡°Know about it?¡± He laughed, slapping his knee. ¡°They¡¯re the ones who suggested it. Once you players start getting wise to the system, they don¡¯t get many chances to practice their holy sacraments. This works out for everyone. You get a fight, and they get to flex their healing magic.¡± He tapped the scroll with his cigar, leaving a small scorch mark. ¡°Come on, I doubt you¡¯re a lawyer. Just sign it already. Promise I¡¯m not pulling the wool over your eyes.¡± His yellowed, cracked teeth flashed in a grin. I hesitated but knew I didn¡¯t have much of a choice. With a resigned sigh, I signed the document and handed it back. ¡°Brilliant!¡± He clapped his hands, walking over to a gravestone nestled between two teardrop-shaped bushes. With a grunt, he braced a foot against the slab and shoved it aside. It slid silently, revealing a curved stone staircase spiralling downward. ¡°After you,¡± he said, gesturing grandly. I descended, my footsteps echoing in the enclosed space. The stairs wound downward for what felt like forever before levelling out into a wide, dark passage. The flagstone floor was cracked and uneven, the walls lined with large, rough-hewn stone bricks stained with age. Recesses along the walls held stone coffins, their lids intricately carved with worn, faded designs. Torches flickered in iron sconces, their sooty smoke staining the ceiling black. The path twisted sharply several times before ending at a pair of towering wooden doors, their dark surface scarred with the marks of age and use. Hoarthin pushed them open with surprising ease, the heavy hinges groaning softly as the doors swung inward. Beyond lay a cavernous room, its vastness amplified by the dim, flickering torchlight. The ceiling loomed at least twenty feet high, casting long shadows that seemed to dance on the rough stone walls. At the centre of the room, the floor dropped into a deep, sunken pit, surrounded on all sides by steep wooden pews arranged in a semicircular amphitheatre. The seats were crowded with a boisterous mix of gnomes, dwarves, and humans, their voices echoing off the walls as they drank, shouted, and placed bets with wild gestures. Coins clinked and dice rolled on makeshift tables scattered among the audience, adding to the cacophony of the underground spectacle. The stage itself was illuminated by an otherworldly glow, the light emanating from strange, luminous rocks embedded in the flagstones. Their eerie yellow hue bathed the pit in an unsettling radiance, casting harsh contrasts of shadow and light that gave the entire scene an almost surreal quality. ¡°This is the spot,¡± Hoarthin said, descending a set of stone stairs that led to a cordoned-off area. A dozen fighters of varying species were gathered there, most of them dwarves. One particularly muscular gnome with smeared blue warpaint stood out, his intimidating presence commanding space around him despite his stature. Two goblins conversed in their harsh, guttural language, their eyes darting suspiciously. Everyone had a glowing red number painted somewhere on their body, save for the gnome. I was still scanning the room when a figure emerged from the shadows¡ªa nun, her black habit blending seamlessly with the dim light. Before I could react, she swiped a finger across my chest, leaving the number 47 glowing brightly on my shirt. I opened my mouth to protest, but Hoarthin cut me off with a raised hand. ¡°Relax. It¡¯ll disappear when you leave the room.¡± The glowing rocks cast his face in strange shadows, and I couldn¡¯t help but notice the predatory gleam in his eyes. This wasn¡¯t just a fight. This was a spectacle¡ªand I was the entertainment. I squatted on the floor, leaning against the cold stone wall. Hoarthin had left and taken a seat a few rows back from the arena, blending into the rowdy crowd. A soft chime echoed through the chamber, signalling the start of a match. The gnome stood, his muscled frame glistening under the glowing stones¡¯ sickly light, and swaggered into the arena to an uproar of cheers. Moments later, a glowing red number appeared on the back wall: 39. One of the dwarves rose solemnly, his heavy boots thudding on the stone as he made his way into the pit. The crowd immediately turned on him, jeering and booing, throwing insults like rotten fruit. A gong sounded, and the arena erupted in raucous cheering. I shifted uncomfortably. From where I sat, I couldn¡¯t see much of the fight; the angle of the room allowed only fleeting glimpses. A voice interrupted my thoughts. ¡°It¡¯s better if you don¡¯t watch. Psyches you out.¡± I turned to see a stocky dwarf with bright red hair and a neatly cropped square beard. He leaned closer, his breath reeking of ale. ¡°How¡¯d they rope you into this?¡± he asked, his tone almost conversational. I didn¡¯t answer, only giving him an uneasy glance. ¡°Was it money?¡± he pressed. When I shook my head, his face lit with a knowing smirk. ¡°Ah, a woman, then! Always one of the two.¡± Heat rose to my face, but I forced myself to stay calm. ¡°Yeah, something like that,¡± I muttered. From the arena, a roar of jubilation cut through the air, followed by the unmistakable sound of terrified screams. The crowd¡¯s wild energy washed over us like a tidal wave. The dwarf, seemingly satisfied with my half-hearted response, leaned back in his seat. Another number flashed on the wall: 47. The red-haired dwarf cocked his head, looking at me with something that might have been pity. ¡°Your turn. Don¡¯t worry¡ªthe nuns are real good at fixing folks up.¡± He laughed as though that was supposed to be reassuring. I swallowed hard, my mouth dry, and forced myself to my feet. The walk into the arena felt like a dream¡ªor maybe a nightmare. The amphitheatre¡¯s cacophony of voices swelled as I descended into the pit. A dark, wet bloodstain greeted me, stark against the yellow-lit flagstones. In the corner, the gnome sat nonchalantly wiping his hands on the floor, leaving streaks of blood in their wake. The crowd jeered as I entered. I caught sight of Hoarthin among them, his face lit with a smug grin as he gleefully joined in the mockery. I ignored the noise and took my place opposite the gnome. He stood slowly, stretching his neck with a sickening CRACK and flexing his hands. His muscular frame, though small, radiated raw power. The gong rang out, and before I could steady myself, he charged. His fists were up in a boxer''s stance, weaving and bobbing as he closed the distance with frightening speed. I barely had time to extend my quarterstaff before he was on me, jabbing out with a small but vicious fist. I deflected the blow, the staff vibrating in my hands from the impact. Before I could react, he spun on his heel and delivered a backfist to my knee. Pain exploded through my leg, and I buckled, stumbling as I tried to maintain my footing. The gnome leapt, winding up for a punch aimed squarely at my head. Instinctively, I retracted my staff and extended again as fast as it allowed, the end catching him square in the stomach. The force sent him flying backward, his small body skidding across the glowing tiles. I tried to press the attack, but my injured knee betrayed me, and I stumbled again. The gnome was back on his feet in an instant, closing the gap and delivering an uppercut that turned my vision into a kaleidoscope of stars. I hit the ground hard, my head spinning, my vision was bathed in red, he turned to the crowd and raised his arms, riling them into a frenzy. Desperation surged through me. While his back was turned, I swung my staff low, sweeping his legs out from under him. He sprawled onto the floor with an audible thud, the crowd erupting in laughter. His face twisted into a murderous glare, and he scrambled to his feet, his rage boiling over. I steadied myself, the pain in my knee dulling as adrenaline took over. Holding my staff in a defensive stance, I watched him carefully. My Flaw Finder skill activated, highlighting a loose glowing stone on the floor. It was precariously placed, and I circled around to position it between us. The gnome lunged again, ducking low as he closed the distance. Timing my move, I kicked the stone hard, sending it skittering directly into his path. His foot landed squarely on it, and he lost his balance, pitching forward with a sickening SMACK as his face met the flagstones. Blood sprayed across the floor staining it red. I didn¡¯t hesitate. I brought my staff down in a calculated, restrained strike to the back of his head. The impact left a visible indent, and his body twitched before going still. I stepped back, breathing hard, as the amphitheatre plunged into stunned silence. The nuns rushed in moments later, their glowing hands already at work as they placed the gnome on a stretcher and carried him through a concealed door. The crowd erupted, half of them shouting in outrage while the rest cheered and exchanged coins. I caught a glimpse of Hoarthin, his earlier smugness replaced by a scowl as he begrudgingly handed a heavy bag to someone next to him. The room emptied quickly after the crowd settled their wagers. Most of the remaining fighters walked up the stairs in silence, their faces a mix of exhaustion and disappointment. The dwarf who had spoken to me earlier cast me a glance¡ªthis time filled with a mixture of surprise and respect. He gave me a curt nod before heading out, leaving me alone in the holding area. I waited for Hoarthin to come collect me, but as the minutes dragged on, my patience wore thin. My job was done, and all I wanted was to get back to the apartment and use the charge I¡¯d earned. With that thought pushing me forward, I climbed the stairs leading to the church grounds. The cold night air greeted me as I stepped outside. Hoarthin was there, leaning casually against the wall, the orange glow of his cigar illuminating the harsh lines of his face with every drag. "You cost me a good chunk of Crowns tonight,¡± he said, the smoke curling around his words. ¡°Good thing for you is that you''re gonna have plenty of chances to make it up to me." He spat a glob of brown onto the ground, then jabbed another scroll toward me. "Here¡¯s your contract. Read it, sign it. You''ll need a stage name, so don¡¯t skip that part." I unrolled the parchment, scanning the dense text. It was more of the same legal jargon that had filled the first contract. Near the bottom, two blank spaces waited for my alias and signature. I hesitated for a moment, then carefully wrote The Nightingale. Hoarthin peered over my shoulder and groaned loudly when he saw my choice. ¡°Fuckin¡¯ edgy wannabe,¡± he muttered, not quite under his breath. I shot him a sharp look, but he waved it off with a dismissive flick of his cigar. "Next fight¡¯s day after tomorrow. I¡¯d suggest getting some training in¡ªyou got lucky tonight." I stopped him as he turned to leave. ¡°What was that, exactly? Why didn¡¯t anyone else fight after me?¡± Hoarthin turned back with a crooked grin, his teeth faintly stained by years of cigar smoke. "Rilbrin¡ªthat gnome you beat¡ªhe¡¯s been losing fights left and right. Tonight was his last chance to prove himself. You took him down, so you¡¯re in the rotation now. First come, first serve. The others? They¡¯ll have to wait till it¡¯s your turn on the chopping block." With that, he stubbed out his cigar on a nearby tombstone, pulled another from his pocket, and lit it in one fluid motion. The embers flared as he walked off into the shadows, leaving me alone with my thoughts. When I was certain Hoarthin was gone, I made my way back to the tavern. The walk was quiet, the streets deserted save for the occasional flicker of torchlight. By the time I reached the apartment, both Milli¡¯s and Sharla¡¯s rooms were dark. I smirked faintly, guessing Milli must¡¯ve finally figured out how to shut off her annoying quest voice. "Wish she''d figured that out a few weeks ago" I muttered bitterly. I slipped into my room, closing the door behind me. My hands trembled as I pulled the amulet from under my shirt and activated the charge I¡¯d earned. The familiar sensation rushed over me, I sank into the bed, letting the euphoria wash away the events of the night for a brief, blissful moment. Chapter 20 When I woke up, sunlight was already streaming through the window¡ªI¡¯d slept in longer than usual. From the common room, I could hear Sharla and Milli talking, their voices animated. I stretched, rubbed the sleep from my eyes, and headed out to join them. The moment I walked in, Milli looked up with a grin. ¡°How was your night at the church?¡± she asked. I felt my ears heat up. ¡°Yeah, it was fine. Lots of sweeping and cleaning,¡± I lied, the words spilling out too fast. Neither of them seemed to notice my discomfort. Instead, they gestured to a note pinned to the door. Josiah had left us a list of all the parties that had approached him the day before, and twelve names were written on it. Milli let out an excited squeak and immediately sat at the counter, spreading out her notes as she started organizing everyone into manageable groups. She dove into the task with a surprising amount of energy¡ªclearly, the rest had done her good. Sharla and I exchanged glances. ¡°We¡¯ll take another patrol quest,¡± she said. ¡°Let¡¯s leave Milli to work her magic.¡± Downstairs, we were met with another group of eager players waiting for us. Sharla and I directed them to Milli, sending her a quick message as we passed.
Ryan: Hey, downstairs is a bit crowded¡ªanother group waiting for us. Good luck. Milli: Ugh. I¡¯ll sort it out.
We made our way to the community board to pick up a quest, but just outside the western gate, a surprising sight stopped us in our tracks. Dozens of players were paired off, sparring under the watchful eyes of Ed¡¯s men. At the front of the crowd stood the man I¡¯d spoken to the other night, they were giving instructions on the use of a sword in shield in formation. He was loudly giving directions while going through the movements. He saw me, and he raised a hand in a casual wave. ¡°Why did I ever tell them to train anyone?¡± I muttered under my breath, fighting the urge to glare. It didn¡¯t matter what we did¡ªEdward seemed determined to keep acting on our behalf, no matter how unwelcome. I shot Milli another message.
Ryan: You might want to get out here. Ed¡¯s got a full-blown training camp set up at the western gate. If they¡¯re going to act like this, we need to keep an eye on them. Milli: He¡¯s taking all the fun out of this! Fine, I¡¯m coming¡ªwith Andrew.
Sharla stopped to observe the drills. She crossed her arms, nodding reluctantly. ¡°They¡¯re¡­ competent,¡± she admitted. The instructor¡¯s commands were sharp and precise, and his movements showed a level of experience that was hard to argue with. We finished the patrol quickly, taking out the assigned number of goblins and heading straight back. Leaving Milli alone with Edward didn¡¯t sit right with either of us, even if Andrew was there. When we returned from our quest a few hours later, Milli and Andrew were deep in conversation with Edward. To my chagrin, Milli was laughing at something Edward had said, and the way she leaned into the discussion made it seem as though they were old friends. The sight only deepened my unease. As we approached, Edward was crouched near the gate, drawing a detailed battle map in the dirt with a stick. He walked Milli through his preliminary assault plan, explaining formations and contingencies with practised efficiency. She nodded thoughtfully, occasionally pointing to symbols on the map as he elaborated on their meanings. ¡°The biggest challenge,¡± Edward was saying, ¡°is avoiding a full encirclement. The road is wide and exposed, and there aren¡¯t any natural formations we can use as cover. We can¡¯t build fortifications in advance at the mission site, either¡ªthey¡¯d just be dismantled before we could even use them. Whatever we do has to be built the day of the assault.¡± I stared at the mud map, recognising the layout of the goblin encampment. It was quite accurate¡ªEdward had clearly been briefed on the intel I¡¯d provided to Milli. A sense of resentment flickered in my chest, but I held my tongue, focusing instead on the discussion. Sharla and I moved closer, listening as Edward dissected each problem and rattled off potential solutions with calm authority. His expertise was undeniable, and for all my wariness, it was clear why people followed him. When he finished, Edward stood and walked over to me, extending his arm. I saw his intention immediately¡ªhe wanted to add me to his contact list. I ignored his attempt, and clasped his hand for a handshake instead. Edward studied me for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly before a smile spread across his face. ¡°Fair enough,¡± he said smoothly, releasing my hand. I didn¡¯t return the smile, keeping my expression neutral as he turned back to Milli. For now, the moment passed¡ªbut the tension between us wasn¡¯t going anywhere. We spent the afternoon supervising the training efforts, and before I knew it, Edward had seamlessly maneuvered us into more active roles. It started subtly¡ªasking for our input here, suggesting a demonstration there¡ªbut by the time we were ready to leave, Sharla and I were moving through groups, giving pep talks, briefing teams on the goblin encampment, and answering questions. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. To my surprise, the experience was actually enjoyable. I could see the excitement and focus in the faces of the players we spoke to, a sense of purpose shared among them that was hard not to admire. But every time I caught Edward¡¯s smile from the corner of my eye, it reminded me of how easily he had lied when we first met. That doubt gnawed at me, keeping my guard up despite his charisma. As the day wound down and we were about to leave, Edward pulled me aside. ¡°Ryan,¡± he began, his tone warm and conversational, ¡°I know we didn¡¯t exactly get off on the right foot. But I really hope you¡¯re starting to see how useful we can be to each other.¡± I hated to admit it, but he had been wearing me down throughout the day. Maybe we should give him a chance? Before I could respond, he added, ¡°I want to tell you something that only my men know.¡± He paused, glancing around to ensure no one was listening. ¡°I don¡¯t have a class. I¡¯ve never even registered at the guild.¡± I studied him, trying to gauge his honesty, but his face betrayed nothing. ¡°I¡¯m not a spring chicken anymore,¡± he continued with a self-deprecating shrug. ¡°I can¡¯t go out there and fight like the rest of you. Some days are good, but on others...¡± He trailed off, letting the implication hang. ¡°And I don¡¯t trust the guild. They¡¯re part of this whole... messed-up system, aren¡¯t they?¡± If he was lying, he was doing an excellent job. My gut told me he might be telling the truth. ¡°Why let your men join, then?¡± I asked, trying to poke a hole in his story. ¡°Just because I don¡¯t trust them doesn¡¯t mean they can¡¯t be useful to us.¡± He gave me a sharp look, as though the answer was obvious. ¡°We tried going it alone, Ryan. Lost good men on day one. Out here, you don¡¯t survive without a class, and you can¡¯t get a class without a guild.¡± Edward took a step closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. ¡°Ryan, I want to join your guild. Think about it¡ªwith your resources, my experience, and my men, we¡¯d have a legitimate shot at doing more than just surviving. We could thrive.¡± I made a noncommittal noise. Edward¡¯s eyes flashed with annoyance, and for the briefest moment, his polished exterior cracked. He looked like he was ready to lose his temper, but he managed to suppress it, masking his irritation with a thin smile. ¡°Ryan,¡± he said, his tone tight with restrained frustration, ¡°stop playing coy. This is a serious offer. With our combined efforts, we could¡ª¡± ¡°Not going to happen, Edward.¡± I cut him off, my voice firm. ¡°I¡¯ve already resigned myself to working with you, but, having you in the guild? That¡¯s off the table.¡± For the first time, Edward¡¯s friendly mask slipped completely. His face reddened, and he looked at me with thinly veiled rage. The man who had been so calm and collected all day suddenly seemed like a cornered animal. ¡°Stop being such an impetuous child!¡± he hissed, his voice low but trembling with anger. ¡°Are you really going to carry what happened with Tim around forever? Grow up!¡± The raw desperation in his tone was striking. But just as quickly as it had appeared, the moment passed. He took a deep breath, his charming fa?ade snapping back into place. ¡°Forgive me,¡± he said smoothly, his tone disarmingly casual. ¡°It¡¯s been a long day in the sun. I¡¯ll let you think on it. Don¡¯t be too hasty about throwing away my friendship.¡± He clapped me on the back¡ªfirmly, but not aggressively¡ªand walked away. When we got back to the tavern, we decided to unwind with a drink. Andrew had already messaged Fiona and Josh to meet him there, so we joined them at a table. As we sat down, Josh shifted uncomfortably, making a point to avoid sitting next to Sharla. She didn¡¯t acknowledge the move and calmly slid into the seat beside Fiona and me. ¡°Honestly, they run a tight ship,¡± Sharla said, waving Josiah over. ¡°I was talking to one of Edward¡¯s guys earlier,¡± she continued, ¡°and they¡¯ve started making portable barricades. Another group¡¯s working on some kind of oil bomb to create a firebreak¡ªkeep the goblins from rushing out at us from the forest. Pretty cool stuff, if I¡¯m being honest.¡± I grunted, the sound a mix of irritation and resignation. With his resources and men, we could realistically launch the raid within a week. But working with him felt like making a deal with a devil. I decided it was time to share what Edward had confided in me. Keeping it to myself felt like playing directly into his hands. ¡°Edward wants to join our guild,¡± I said flatly. ¡°He says he doesn¡¯t trust the adventuring guild.¡± I let the statement hang in the air, offering no opinion. But my tone said everything. Milli spoke first, hesitant. ¡°Hypothetically, if we did let hi¡ª¡± ¡°Veto.¡± Sharla¡¯s voice cut across the table, calm but firm. She smacked her hand on the wood¡ªnot loud, but with enough force to draw everyone¡¯s attention. ¡°I¡¯ve seen what his men are capable of,¡± she continued, taking a drink from Josiah as he brought over a tray. ¡°I don¡¯t vibe with torturers. And let¡¯s not forget what he let Tim do to you, Ryan.¡± Milli raised her hands in surrender. ¡°Retracted.¡± I sighed, relieved to see I wasn¡¯t the only one who rejected the idea outright. ¡°We do still need to work with him, though,¡± I said, reluctantly. ¡°We¡¯d be completely lost without his support. If we turned him down outright, there¡¯s nothing stopping him from organising his own raid. We have no idea what happens when a filter is cleared, and it¡¯s too big a gamble to go it alone.¡± Across the table, Andrew, Josh, and Fiona exchanged glances, their eyes flickering with the subtle glow of interface activity. They were chatting. Finally, Fiona spoke for the group. ¡°Speaking of people joining the guild... we were wondering if you¡¯d let us join?¡± Her words hit like a thunderclap. I stared at them, caught off guard. I didn¡¯t want to have this conversation right now. Keeping the guild small¡ªwith just Milli, Sharla, and me¡ªhad made things simple. Comfortable even. Adding new members felt like it would splinter what we had. I liked them, sure. We¡¯d done enough quests together for me to consider them friends. But the thought of formalising it felt... heavy. Still, I couldn¡¯t make the call alone. I opened the group chat with Sharla and Milli.
Ryan: What¡¯s the feeling here? Any objections? Sharla: I don¡¯t hate it. Might be a bit weird with Josh, but I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll work it out. Milli: My dad always said not to mix your love life and your work life. That being said, my mum started out as his boss.
I glanced up from the chat. ¡°We¡¯ve got a lot of moving parts at the moment,¡± I said carefully. ¡°If we make it through this next week, we¡¯ll talk more. But for now, you can consider it a tentative yes. We just don¡¯t have the time to train anyone into a new class right now.¡± Josh¡¯s expression told me that they hadn¡¯t considered that part. The three of them exchanged relieved glances and nodded quickly. ¡°Totally fair,¡± Josh said, exhaling heavily. He puffed out his cheeks, blowing the air out in a long sigh. ¡°We were planning to stay in the guild until after the raid anyway.¡± Milli pulled out her trusty pack of cards and declared it mandatory to hold a guild induction ceremony. The ceremony, as it turned out, mostly consisted of a rowdy game of Kings, peppered with bouts of singing¡ªled, unsurprisingly, by Milli and Fiona. The laughter and camaraderie carried us late into the night, each of us peeling off one by one as exhaustion set in. By the end, only Milli and Josh were left, deep in a heated debate about their school days and which electives were better for university admissions. Their animated argument swirled with equal parts nostalgia and stubbornness, each trying to outwit the other. I took the opportunity to make my excuses, feeling the familiar pull of the amulet scratching at the edges of my mind. Spending the evening laughing and joking with them had dulled the ache, if only for a little while. For a few fleeting hours, I¡¯d almost forgotten its hold on me. ¡°Maybe this is going to be a good thing,¡± I thought, letting myself feel a glimmer of hope before I closed the door to my room and activated Samantha''s Kiss. Chapter 21 The next day was a blur of strategy meetings, introductions, and planning sessions with Edward''s men. The surreal nature of it all weighed heavily on me. Edward had fully embraced the role of general, striding through the camp with a bodyguard at his side, exuding the demeanour of an ancient warlord. There was an unsettling joy in the way he dissected every intricate detail of warfare, speaking with a smile about the logistics of a night that, for many, might be their last. "Better that they have their breakdown here, where we can help them through it, than out there, where the enemy doesn''t care," he said at one point, his words pragmatic. The admiration I felt for him in that moment unsettled me. Despite everything I knew about him, I couldn''t ignore the wisdom in his approach. It left me deeply conflicted. Edward¡¯s bodyguard was a giant of a man, standing even taller than Sharla and boasting muscles that made hers seem modest in comparison. His imposing frame was clad in a tactical vest layered over a dark linen shirt, the fabric glistening faintly with silver and copper threads¡ªclear indicators of its magical properties. Strapped to his vest was a knife in a reverse sheath, its handle positioned for a swift draw. His sharp, chiselled features conveyed both discipline and danger. His brown hair was cut in a classic back-and-sides style, neatly maintained and practical. A strong, square chin added to his intimidating presence, while his dark brown eyes held a piercing focus that seemed to weigh and measure everything in his line of sight. By midday, I needed a break. I invited Sharla and Milli to join me on a quest, and they both agreed, eager for some hands-on action. Milli used the opportunity to test a few new ammunition types, including an enhanced version of the ice bomb she¡¯d used against the troll. It was the same size of her regular projectiles but was covered in glowing runes. When she demonstrated it, the blast unleashed a frigid wave of air that slammed into us like stepping into a deep freezer straight from a scorching sauna. The area of effect was impressive¡ªanything within a 3-meter radius would be caught in the icy explosion, and anything closer would be flash-frozen on the spot. Recognizing its devastating potential, we convinced her to save her last remaining freeze bomb for when it mattered most, ensuring it wouldn¡¯t be wasted. "Only problem is they weigh a ton and take forever to make," Milli admitted, showing us the two she''d managed to bring along¡ªone for testing, the other for live use. Each was the size of a baseball but felt as dense as tungsten. "How the hell did you manage to carry two of these things?" I asked, hefting one and feeling the cold seep through my gloves. Milli shrugged as I handed it back, but an idea struck me. Adjusting the strap of my backpack, I handed it to her. Her expression shifted from confusion to pure delight as she realised what I was offering. "It kinda gets in the way when I¡¯m fighting anyway," I told her as she tried to politely decline. "This way, you can carry way more ammo." Her excitement bubbled over as she hugged the bag. "Ohmygod, ohmygod, it goes with my suit so well! I¡¯ve been eyeing this kind of leather since forever, but none of the shops sell it." She squealed with joy, her feet tapping rapidly as she admired her new accessory. I transferred the contents of the bag into my inventory, I didn''t have much¡ªmostly we¡¯d using it to cart loot back to town shops¡ªleaving her free to pack it with her ammunition. The rest of the day was spent practising a new combat exercise suggested by one of Edward¡¯s men. The idea was to test individual endurance and adaptability: each party member took turns being ¡°it,¡± fighting waves of goblins solo until they were hit. Once tagged, the other two would jump in to assist. To my surprise, Milli and I fared better than Sharla in this exercise. Her heavier armour and tanking style meant she often took glancing blows¡ªnot enough to require healing but enough to disqualify her under the rules. The setup turned out to be perfect for her training, though. Each disqualification gave her a chance to heal herself or us, reliably earning her experience. By the time we wrapped up for the day, she¡¯d progressed halfway to level 3. We were almost back to the settlement when we came across large ogre tracks. The air still carried its rancid, animalistic stench. Normally, ogres stuck to their caves or nearby water sources, but this one had strayed dangerously close to the groups of players scattered throughout the forest. Most of them were still green, having only recently received their classes.
Milli: Guys, we can''t let that thing just wander around out here. Sharla: You''re right, it¡¯s dangerous enough as is. Ryan: Can we at least call in some backup?
A terrified scream tore through the air, no more than 100 meters away. Any thoughts of calling for help vanished as we sprinted toward the sound. We burst into a small clearing where the ogre¡¯s violence was on full display. A mangled figure lay crumpled on the ground, a mix of gore and shattered armour. Nearby, flashes of magic lit up the trees as someone desperately hurled spells at the towering monster. The ogre roared, the sound rumbling through the forest and making my ears ache even at this distance. I quickly typed out a plan and sent it to the group chat:
Ryan: Milli, go for the eyes. Wait for Sharla and me to get whoever we can clear, then lob your freeze bomb.
We closed the distance fast. I tossed Milli a coprolite, and she caught it deftly with her net as we entered the fray. The clearing opened up to a shallow stream where the ogre stood, towering over a round man desperately flinging glowing orbs of light. The spells splashed harmlessly against the monster¡¯s hide, dazing it for only a moment. The man stumbled back, gasping for air, his sweat-soaked clothes clinging to his frame. I activated my identify++ the moment I got a good look at the creature.
Hostile NPC: Ogre Description: This isn¡¯t the wisecracking Michael Myers-type you might be familiar with¡ªthis ogre is big, mean, and desperately in need of anger management therapy. Fast, strong, and capable of basic pattern recognition, these brutes make for no easy fight. Once confined to their primeval forest homeland, they¡¯ve ventured out to prey on unprepared players. With their thick hides, dense bones, and wickedly powerful lungs, you might want to bring some earplugs¡ªyou''re going to need them. Resistances: Common Weaknesses: Hidden Vulnerabilities: Bonus Tip: Extremely territorial, ogres attack intruders on sight. Unfortunately, they don¡¯t leave signs, and their territories shift frequently, so tread carefully.
Sharla rushed to his side, slinging one of his arms over her shoulder to half-carry him away from the fight. I turned my attention back to the ogre just in time to see Milli¡¯s coprolite arc through the air and strike the creature square in the face. It staggered, one foot slipping into the stream. Then the freeze bomb detonated. The wave of cold hit me like a sledgehammer, burning my ears and leaving a thin layer of frost over my entire back. When I turned around, the ogre¡¯s right foot was frozen solid, blackened with frostbite. The shot had fallen short of it''s target. It let out a roar, wrenching its leg in a desperate attempt to free itself. The frozen flesh gave way, snapping off at the ankle. The massive creature toppled over, crashing to the ground with a deafening thud. Sharla and I didn¡¯t waste a second. She activated her warhammer¡¯s prayer, unleashing an AoE buff that bolstered our attacks. Her warhammer came down with brutal precision, crushing the ogre¡¯s skull into a misshapen lump. The beast swatted at her weakly, clearly stunned. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. I followed up with Milli¡¯s Multi-tool, extending it to its full length and activating the blade. I leapt onto the ogre¡¯s back, aiming for a heart blow, but the blade hit bone. The ogre inhaled deeply, preparing a roar that could easily rupture our eardrums¡ªand probably much worse at this close of a range. Sharla swung again, her hammer smashing into the side of its head. The blow interrupted it, causing it to let out a bellow of fetid breath that filled the air with a rancid stench. I yanked the spear free, shortening it to the length of my arm, and drove it into the base of the ogre¡¯s skull. The blade thudded against bone again. Bracing myself, I extended the spear to its full ten feet, driving the blade through the back of its head and into the dirt below. The ogre thrashed violently, nearly throwing me off its back, but after a few moments of struggle¡ªand one especially violent spasm¡ªsomething inside its neck cracked. The monster went limp.
Achievement: Timber! Description: You have killed a monster more than twice your size, way to rack one up for the short kings. Reward: 1 pair of platform crocs
A notification flashed in my interface: my spear skill had levelled up to 3. We escorted the injured man back toward the settlement, and along the way, he explained what had happened. His teammate, an archer, had fled the moment their fighter was killed. Their entire strategy relied on kiting monsters and wearing them down until their fighter could finish them off. When she ran, he tried to follow but couldn¡¯t keep up. About ten minutes from the settlement, we encountered a group of players jogging down the road. I recognised them as some of the people who had received their class assignments on the first day. ¡°Hey, have you guys seen an ogre back that way?¡± the party leader asked, directing the question toward Sharla. ¡°Yeah, we took care of it. This guy¡¯s friend left him to die. Lucky we got there in time,¡± Milli answered, stepping forward. We had agreed a while ago that Milli was the party¡¯s ¡°face,¡± the one best suited to handle social interactions. As we walked back, Milli described the fight to them in vivid detail, pantomiming each attack and action with dramatic flair. By the time we reached the training camp, she had them completely engrossed. At the camp, Sharla immediately went to report the ogre incident and to see if anyone had located the man¡¯s teammate. When she returned, her expression was grim. ¡°The guy I talked to said this is the second ogre today. The monsters are ramping up¡ªthere were reports last night of goblins sniffing around the gates,¡± she said, her tone detached, like a doctor delivering bad news. ¡°Have they organized night patrols yet?¡± I asked. ¡°If they have, it wasn¡¯t mentioned. I¡¯ll go find someone to start putting together shifts for round-the-clock coverage,¡± she replied thoughtfully. ¡°We should also organise rapid response units to handle emergencies and make sure everyone has each other in their contact lists,¡± Milli added, her eyes already flashing with activity as she began drafting ideas. The sheer number of logistical details was overwhelming. Any oversight could lead to disaster. I felt a wave of gratitude for Sharla and Milli. Despite the monumental challenges, they had taken to leadership like ducks to water. After getting the ball rolling on our suggestions, we left the execution to Edward¡¯s men. They were far more capable of implementing the plans than we were. That evening, we went to bed early. The mental strain of constant planning and talking was a different kind of exhaustion, one we weren¡¯t accustomed to. I fell asleep during my usual Samantha¡¯s Kiss come-down, thankful for the temporary escape from its ever-present pull. When I woke, the sun was already high, and I felt more rested than I had in days. I knew tonight would be another late one¡ªHoarthin had promised me a fight, and the thought of earning another charge was a constant distraction. We spent the day escorting less experienced players on patrols, acting as support so they could safely level up their skills. To mitigate risks, every group now included at least one designated ¡°canary¡±¡ªa term one of Edward¡¯s men had coined. Their job was to hang back and call for help if their party found themselves in trouble. Rapid-response squads had also been formed to handle emergencies, greener players were also no longer allowed to venture out unaccompanied. The precautions seemed like overkill but we had lost four players yesterday to wandering mobs alone. The day-to-day raid preparations were running like a well-oiled machine under Edward¡¯s supervision. There were occasional flare-ups¡ªinstances where someone was pushed too hard and fights broke out¡ªbut they were quickly mediated. While helping our second party of the day, I finally received the message I¡¯d been anticipating.
Hoarthin: Hope you¡¯re ready, because tonight you¡¯ll be fighting a real mean bastard. Make sure you¡¯re well-rested¡ªI¡¯ve got a lot of Crowns riding on you pulling off another stunt like you did with Rilbrin.
I didn¡¯t reply, focusing instead on helping a young man with a thick Korean accent refine his spear technique. Despite the language barrier, his excitement was infectious when he finally succeeded. We capped off the day with a meeting with Edward. He had been holed up in his base of operations, finalising the assault plan. His strategy was deceptively simple: funnel the goblins into a tight space and take them out in manageable bursts. The genius was in the execution. A vanguard of experienced players, led by us, would clear the approach, disabling traps that could hinder the main force. Once at the encampment, Edward¡¯s men would use pre-made fortifications carried in their inventories to form a 15-foot-long causeway down the road. Meanwhile, firebombs would create a burning wall on either side, flushing out ambushes from the forest. The rearguard, composed of our elite units, would handle anything that got past the front lines and would respond from anything that came up behind us. Sharla, Milli, and I were tasked with infiltrating the residential area, locating Nobblehob, and taking him out. Josh, Andrew, and Fiona insisted on joining the assault. "We''re not going to let you guys go in there alone," Josh said firmly when I tried to object. We still had no idea what was waiting for us under the tent, and time was running out. Edward wanted to launch the attack in three days, convinced that waiting any longer would make the mission impossible, no matter how much additional training we crammed in. When we returned to the tavern, Josh, Andrew, and Fiona were waiting for us with food and drinks. They were hyper-aware of the strain we were under and took every opportunity to ease the burden. For a few hours, we let them distract us with jokes and drinking games. But as the fight drew closer, I excused myself and made my way to the church. Earlier, Sharla had asked me how much longer I¡¯d be stuck doing this quest. I gave a vague answer. "I''m there for as long as sh¨Cthey want me to be, I guess," I¡¯d said, nearly slipping. The arena had been reconfigured into an MMA-style ring. It was elevated about two meters off the ground and enclosed with high chain-link fences. The seating was packed with rowdy spectators, though the harsh lighting obscured their faces from my view. There were no other fighters in the waiting area; my opponent was being kept a secret. I spent the half-hour wait meticulously checking over my equipment. The fight rules allowed for outside gear, but nothing that could cause lethal injuries or endanger the crowd. I tried to get a good look at the ring, but the angle made it impossible. Finally, the chime sounded, and I walked out onto the platform. A set of metal stairs led me up and into the cage. As I entered, the crowd roared in anticipation, the din of their excitement reverberating off the cavernous walls. Then I saw him, and a cold chill ran down my spine. It was Edward¡¯s bodyguard. He¡¯d been imposing when I first saw him, but here, he radiated pure menace. The chain-link fence seemed like a joke against someone like him. He was shirtless, revealing his massive, rippling physique, though he wasn¡¯t wearing the tactical vest that had given him his air of invincibility. In one hand, he held a short stick made of what looked like dried bamboo. The way he casually flexed his shoulders and performed deep stretches that looked impossible for someone his size sent goosebumps crawling up my arms. I suddenly felt very small, like a child squaring up to an Olympic heavyweight. Every instinct screamed for me to leave, but the cage door locked the moment we were both inside. I swallowed hard, moving to the opposite side of the arena, following the instructions of a vinegar-scented nun. I mimicked the bodyguard¡¯s stretches, trying to loosen my trembling muscles as sweat dripped from my face. A booming, amplified voice echoed through the chamber. "Standing at 203 centimetres and weighing in at a staggering 128 kilograms, we have the connoisseur of carnage himself¡ªCaptain Mathews!" The crowd erupted into a deafening roar. Mathews raised one massive arm into the air, his muscles twitching as he drank in their cheers. The announcer''s voice returned, dripping with mockery. "And in their debut match, standing at 171 centimetres and weighing a paltry 83 kilograms, we have the scrappy newcomer¡ªThe Nightingale!" I waved awkwardly at the crowd, though the blinding lights made it impossible to see their faces. My throat was dry, my heart hammering. Across the ring, Mathews stood still as a statue, his dark eyes fixed on me with unsettling intensity. A wicked grin spread across his face, his head tilting slightly, as if he¡¯d just been handed something he didn¡¯t know he wanted. I shifted on my feet, watching him closely, but his expression was unreadable¡ªcold, calculating, and emotionless. The gong sounded. Mathews launched himself forward in a blur of motion, faster than anyone his size had any right to be. His foot swept low, a vicious kick aimed to take my legs out from under me. I barely had time to react, extending my staff to block the attack. His boot hit the staff with bone-shaking force, snapping through my defence and sending me sprawling to the ground. Before I could fully process what had happened, he was already on me. His baton swung down with a force that promised to break bones. I deflected it with my staff and rolled backward, using the momentum to scramble to my feet. With a grunt, I swung my staff wide, hoping to catch him across the head. He parried the strike effortlessly, his movements fluid and precise, then lunged forward. His arms slammed into me, driving me back in a brutal tackle. My breath exploded from my lungs, and my vision blurred with red at the edges. I tried to gasp, but my diaphragm refused to cooperate. Panic gripped me as he pinned me to the ground, his weight pressing down like a slab of iron. Desperation overtook me. I retracted my staff, aimed it upward, and extended it in a snap. I was aiming for his nose, but he twisted at the last second. The staff smashed into his ear, tearing it off. Mathews recoiled in pain screaming, the sound reverberating through the arena. He staggered back, clutching the side of his head, and I seized the moment to scramble to my feet. My chest heaved as I fought to regain my breath, each inhalation a jagged knife stabbing into my ribs. He turned to face me, his face contorted with rage. Blood streamed from the side of his head, but to my horror, the flow slowed immediately, the wound scabbing over in seconds. His healing factor was insane. I watched, transfixed, as he stooped to pick up his severed ear, pressing it against the side of his head as if trying to force it back into place. It didn¡¯t work. With an angry growl, he pulled the ear into his inventory, his glare locking onto me like a predator sizing up its prey. Without warning, he hurled his baton at me. The weapon flew through the air, and I leapt to the side, narrowly dodging it. But before I could recover, he was sprinting at me again, his hands raised like claws. I jabbed my staff forward, aiming for his centre mass, but he sidestepped the thrust with terrifying ease. He closed the distance in a heartbeat, coming up on my right side. I shortened my staff and brought it up to block, just in time to absorb the impact of his fist. The punch hit me like a truck. My feet skidded across the arena floor as I struggled to maintain my footing. But before I could recover, his fist filled my vision. Then, with a crunch of bone, everything went black. Chapter 22 I woke up in a hospital bed, disoriented. The window beside me framed an inky-black night. My body felt wrong¡ªforeign. There was no pain, but I could tell my ribs and arm were broken, and my face felt disturbingly¡­ squishy. Beside the bed sat a small glass bottle filled with a thick, faintly glowing red liquid. My vision flickered with a notification.
Quest Failed: King of the Ring Description: What the absolute fuck was that!? You lost your first real match. Not only that¡ªhe isn¡¯t even the top fighter, and he threw you around like a ragdoll. You are a fucking embarrassment! You humiliated me! I need time to think about our relationship. Punishment: Samantha''s Kiss has been disabled for 48 hours. All charges have been confiscated.
My heart sank. I hadn¡¯t used the charge I earned earlier, saving it for after the match to avoid dealing with its side effects mid-fight. Now, it was gone. It had been almost 24 hours since my last fix, and the urges, which had been a constant itch, now burned like a wildfire. My heart pounded, and a clawing pressure pressed behind my eyes. ¡°No! No, no, no, no!¡± I screamed, the rage burning through me like molten steel. ¡°That¡¯s not fair! I¡¯ve done everything you¡¯ve wanted! What the fuck do you expect from me, you psycho!?¡± My voice cracked with fury and despair as I punched my leg, only for my misshapen arm to give a sickening squish. Tears streamed down my face, blurring my vision as the weight of it all crushed me. I hated her¡ªhated Samantha more than Edward, more than Tim, more than I thought I could hate anyone. My chest heaved as sobs escaped me, and I barely noticed the nun rushing in. She saw my arm, now grotesquely misshapen, and hurried over to set it. Her healing spell worked quickly, but I stayed silent, seething with helpless fury. I thought about throwing the amulet away, but my fingers wouldn¡¯t let go. Instead, I shoved it into my inventory, disgusted with myself. I stood and caught a glimpse of my reflection. My nose¡ªno longer straight and narrow¡ªwas now flat and slightly crooked. Panic bubbled up, and I tried to fix it, managing only to adjust the angle. Gritting my teeth, I downed the healing potion from the bedside table, wincing as my bones knit back together and the swelling in my face subsided. Brief relief washed over me before the cravings clawed their way back into the front of my mind, stronger than ever. I left the hospital in a haze, the world around me a blur. Somehow, I made it back to the apartment without realizing I¡¯d passed through the tavern below. I snapped back to reality only when Sharla shook me gently by the shoulder. ¡°Ryan! Whoa, hey, there you are,¡± she said, her voice laced with concern. Her sharp eyes studied my face, checking my pupils. I stood there, trembling. ¡°Sharla... I fucked up,¡± I whispered, my voice breaking. She woke Milli, and soon they were both sitting beside me on the couch. I expected anger, shouting, accusations¡ªbut none came. Instead, they listened. Milli pulled my head into her lap, stroking my hair as my emotions overwhelmed me and I broke down completely. Between sobs, I begged for their forgiveness over and over. They shushed me gently, their voices soft as they reassured me, promising that we¡¯d figure it out together. When my tears dried and my energy was spent, they helped me sit up. They went straight into problem-solving mode. ¡°We¡¯ll need to keep you in the apartment if your symptoms get too bad,¡± Sharla said firmly. ¡°If this starts to affect your ability to fight, I need you to be honest with me about how you¡¯re feeling, okay?¡± I nodded weakly, unable to find my voice. Milli frowned, pacing the room with her hands on her hips. ¡°I¡¯m not sure staying here will work. If he doesn¡¯t keep completing quests, that crazy bitch might hurt him¡ªor worse. And what if the quest doesn¡¯t clear if he stays in the settlement? We¡¯ll need to experiment tomorrow.¡± ¡°Why aren¡¯t you two angry at me?¡± I asked softly, my voice hollow. I didn¡¯t deserve their kindness. They needed to know it was my fault we faced the troll, and that I lied about why I went to the goblin camp. I deserved their anger, not their comfort. Sharla¡¯s expression hardened for a moment. ¡°Oh, I am angry at you,¡± she admitted. ¡°But that¡¯s not going to help anything right now. You were taken advantage of and hooked on fantasy heroin. I wish you¡¯d told me when it happened.¡± Her face softened, and she sighed. ¡°We¡¯re going to get through this, Ryan. Together." I went to bed, but the potion¡¯s lingering effects left me sleepless, trapped alone with my spiralling thoughts. A hateful voice in my head, whispered that I wouldn¡¯t be able to make it through this. Desperate for distraction, I started exercising, pushing my body to its limit. The pain filled me with endorphins, drowning out the cravings just enough to stay sane. My body betrayed me¡ªconvulsing, heaving, until I vomited from the strain. Wiping my mouth, I cleaned up the mess and stumbled into the shower, flipping the water from scalding hot to ice cold, desperate for anything to out-compete the need clawing at my brain. Eventually, dawn arrived. Exhausted but unable to rest, I emerged from my room and began cooking breakfast for the girls, clinging to the routine like a lifeline. Anything to keep myself busy. When they joined me, I greeted them with forced cheer, vibrating with nervous energy. ¡°Okay! For Milli, we¡¯ve got porridge with sliced fruit and honey. For Sharla, eggs over easy with grilled onions and butter-fried mushrooms!¡± I announced, shovelling down a scalding cup of coffee as I moved to rearrange the furniture for training. Sharla stood and blocked me, her brow furrowed with concern. ¡°Tell me what you are feeling, have the symptoms progressed?¡± She pressed a hand to my forehead and checked my pulse. ¡°You¡¯re burning up a bit. Have you felt like this for long?¡± ¡°Oh, I just need to keep moving. It helps.¡± My words came fast, tumbling over each other as I grabbed the Multi-Tool. ¡°I wanna start training the double-stick configuration, I think it will be way better for close quarters than my staff or spear.¡± ¡°No.¡± Her voice was firm but gentle. ¡°You need rest. If you don¡¯t, your body could go into shock.¡± ¡°Let me do this!¡± I snapped, my voice rising louder than I intended. The outburst hit me immediately, and I recoiled, ashamed. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t mean to yell¡­¡± She gave me a hard look, her concern unwavering. ¡°I know you didn¡¯t, but please, listen to me. This withdrawal could get serious. I¡¯m staying here with you today to keep an eye on things.¡± The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Reluctantly, I let her sit me down on the couch. She checked my vitals, then coaxed me into eating. I wasn¡¯t hungry, but I realized it had been over twelve hours since my last meal. I forced myself to eat what she put in front of me but quickly threw it all back up. The failure added to my growing frustration, but before I could spiral, a notification dinged in my interface.
Achievement: Junky Description: You¡¯ve hit withdrawals. Bold move going cold turkey, but maybe not the smartest when trolls and ogres are in the mix. Did you really trust that goblin who said their crack was safe because it was ¡°organically sourced¡±? Pro tip: that¡¯s not something you just stop. Reward:
I let out a bitter laugh at the message, more from frustration than anything else. My body betrayed me, wracked with relentless shivers and cold sweats. The couch became my prison as I spent the day curled up, trembling and miserable. Throughout the day, several angry messages from Hoarthin popped up on my interface. I ignored them. Without any obligation to continue, I considered our relationship severed. True to her word, Sharla stayed by my side, refusing to leave me alone. Meanwhile, Milli went out with Josh, Andrew, and Fiona, escorting a group of players on a quest. She sent me the quest invite without telling the others. To my relief, the system counted their success toward my Plant One On Me quest, even though I wasn¡¯t physically present. By evening, the worst of the symptoms had abated, but the cravings still present, their strength undiminished. In the rare lucid moments, Sharla and I talked about what to do with the amulet. ¡°I think you should take it from me,¡± I said, my voice shaking but resolute. She shook her head firmly. ¡°No. If you ignore Samantha, there¡¯s no telling what could happen. I¡¯ve heard of groups who failed too many guild quests and were just¡­ transported away. None of them ever made it back to town.¡± I frowned. ¡°I thought the worst they could do was expel you? That¡¯s what they said in the induction lecture.¡± ¡°That¡¯s what I was told too,¡± she admitted, her expression clouded. ¡°But judging by Samantha, it seems like the system can¡­ go off-script sometimes.¡± I swallowed hard, nodding slowly. Getting free of the amulet away wasn¡¯t going to be as simple as I had hoped. Then a thought struck me. "When I first put the amulet on, I got an achievement for equipping a cursed item. If I can find someone to remove the curse, I should be free of it, right?" Sharla tilted her head, considering. "That could work¡­ but, Samantha might not take kindly to that." The logic seemed sound, though. If this world operated like a game, curses could usually be removed¡ªright? I had subtly asked Milli about it before, but no players cursed by items had managed to remove them. Louis had been less than forthcoming, only saying that curses typically required a high-ranking church official, none of whom could be found in this region. Pressing him for more details had gotten me nowhere. "I¡¯ll be careful," I said, determination pushing down my doubts. If there was even a sliver of hope, it was worth pursuing. I dozed off on the couch and didn¡¯t stir until late the next morning. By the time I woke, Milli had already gone out, but Sharla had stayed behind, keeping watch over me like a hawk. In my restless, feverish sleep, I dreamed of the two of them arguing about what to do with me. Their voices in the dream were tense and worried, a jumble of sharp words and heavy silences that only added to my growing sense of unease. When I finally came to, my condition had noticeably improved. I could keep food down without fear of it coming back up, and the tremors that had wracked my body had vanished completely. But the cravings¡ªthey were still there, lurking just beneath the surface, tugging at the edges of my thoughts. After some persistent convincing, I managed to get Sharla to agree to let me join a quest. The walls of the apartment felt like they were closing in on me, and every minute spent cooped up made the frustration bubble higher. I needed to move, to fight¡ªanything to regain some sense of control. We met Milli outside the gates, where she and Sharla exchanged knowing looks as they spoke in a private chat. We waited for another group to finish their preparations before setting out, but Edward approached us before we could leave. His posture was unusually formal, his usual playful demeanour subdued. Beside him stood his bodyguard, Mathews, his presence as imposing as ever, though now distinctly lopsided from his missing ear. "Ryan, may I have a word?" Edward asked smoothly. Sharla and Milli tried to interject, but I waved them off, reluctantly following Edward. We walked a short distance before he broke the silence, his charm reasserting itself. "I heard about your little¡­ incident with Captain Mathews here," he said, his tone polite but with a sharp edge. "I just wanted to check in¡ªmake sure there are no hard feelings between you two." I hesitated, glancing at Mathews, who nodded impassively. "No, not on my end," I replied, truthfully. "Sorry about your ear." Mathews shrugged, extending his hand. "It happens," he said simply. I shook it cautiously, feeling his grip firm but not overly so. "Anything else?" I asked Edward, wanting to return to the girls. "My party¡¯s waiting." "No, no, you¡¯re free to go," Edward said, stepping aside. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "Oh, just one thing. Gotta say¡ªI love the name." I froze. Blood drained from my face. "Nightingale," he continued, his voice light but deliberate. "It suits you. Hey, Mathews, wasn¡¯t there a Captain Nightingale on base? Real hard-ass, if I remember right." "Sure was, boss," Mathews said calmly, his dark eyes fixed on me. "Head of the Military Police. Real piece of work." My pulse thundered in my ears, and my legs felt rooted to the spot. Edward chuckled. "Yeah, that¡¯s right. Anyway, thanks for your time." He turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, heart pounding and mind racing. I returned to Sharla and Milli, recounting the conversation. They exchanged uneasy glances, but before we could dwell on it, the other party arrived and we set out. The quest itself was uneventful, though my encounter with Edward weighed heavily on me, sapping any fire I might have had. We stepped back, letting the other party handle the bulk of the work. To their credit, they performed admirably. They were a sign that the training and preparation had paid off, and despite the gruelling week they¡¯d endured, their progress was undeniable. Each day brought more players into the ranks, swelling our numbers to nearly three hundred. Patrols now covered the settlement''s perimeter at all times, and a relay system had been established to distribute messages efficiently. The operation ran like a well-oiled machine, but the strain was palpable. Small fights and frayed nerves had become the norm as exhaustion took its toll. When our shift ended, we returned to the tavern and met up with Josh, Andrew, and Fiona. Over drinks, we finally filled them in on Edward¡¯s past and the reasons for our unease. "That guy always gave me the creeps," Josh muttered, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. Milli made a strong case for fully integrating them into the guild, especially if they were going to stick around after the raid. Sharla, Milli, and I agreed, though we decided to keep my situation with Samantha under wraps for now. They assured us they wouldn¡¯t breathe a word about Edward to anyone else. We couldn¡¯t afford unnecessary drama derailing the raid. The gravity of the coming days loomed large, and we all turned in early. Tomorrow would be the final day before the attack, and no one was in the mood for games. In the back of my mind, I had been tracking the countdown to when I could use the amulet again. Only a few hours remained until my ban was lifted, and I hated how excited I was. I went into my room and sat on the edge of my bed, practically bouncing with anticipation. My heart raced as I opened my inventory, watching the timer tick down. I was on a hair trigger, mentally hovering over the "Activate" button, waiting for it to be usable again. Then, at last, a notification appeared.
System Notification: Samantha''s Kiss has been re-activated, and all withheld charges have been restored.
My excitement got the better of me, and in a frenzy of impatience, I slammed the button repeatedly. I hadn¡¯t expected to get the withheld charges back, and I had never considered that multiple charges could be consumed for an amplified effect. I barely had time to process my mistake before it hit me. Three charges. I¡¯d consumed three charges at once. Everything melted away. I ceased to be Ryan, ceased to be anything. The universe itself seemed to open up and swallow me whole. Sensation and thought dissolved into pure, overwhelming bliss¡ªa cascade of euphoria so all-encompassing it felt like being unmade and remade in the span of a heartbeat. Time became meaningless, and I drifted off into an infinite, intoxicating void. The only thing anchoring me to existence was her voice. Samantha¡¯s smooth, seductive tones wrapped around me like silk, seeping into every corner of my mind. "I''m so sorry for getting angry," she cooed, her words dripping with a sweetness that made my chest ache. "Promise me you''ll never do that to me again. You¡¯re such a good boy, coming back to me like this. I was so afraid I¡¯d lost you." Her voice lingered, filling me with a twisted mixture of relief and dread. I felt her presence as though she were right beside me, stroking my hair, her nails teasing my skin. In this moment of exquisite ecstasy, it was impossible to tell where I ended and she began. And for a fleeting, horrifying moment, I didn¡¯t want to even imagine being apart from her. The moment before reality lost all meaning I noticed an achievement notification on my interface. Chapter 23 The final day before the raid blurred past in a frenzy of activity. We rushed through as many grinding sessions as possible, managing to complete five runs over the course of the day. Edward and Mathews were conspicuously absent, leaving the rest of his men to take charge. Their exhaustion was beginning to show. Many resorted to shouting and outright bullying to keep people hustling and meeting the deadline. I hated the approach, but I couldn¡¯t argue with the results. Despite my frustration, I focused on helping the players running missions. They needed me more. I made a conscious effort to stay present, but my mind kept drifting back to the night before. No matter how much I tried to focus, the memory gnawed at the edges of my thoughts. The first thing I did when I woke up was check my notifications. There, sitting at the top of the list, was the achievement from last night¡ªdifferent from all the others in one unsettling way. Samantha¡¯s voice had read it aloud to me.
Achievement: Overindulgence Description: Three hits, huh? Looks like someone just couldn¡¯t get enough. You¡¯ve pushed past the boundaries of normal consumption and started to discover just how deep the rabbit hole goes. Let¡¯s hope you can crawl back out. Reward:
I didn¡¯t keep it to myself. Over breakfast, I told Sharla and Milli. Neither of them took it well¡ªunderstandably so. The implications were unsettling, but to their credit, they held back any outright criticism, though I could see the concern written across their faces. The boon itself didn¡¯t come with any additional explanation. When I tried to inspect it, all I got was this:
Boon: Never Gonna Give You Up Activation: Conditional
No details. No description. Nothing to explain what "conditional" meant. After some deliberation, we threw it in the ever-growing ¡°problems for later¡± bucket. Without an immediate downside, there wasn¡¯t much else we could do. That evening, we pored over the plan again and again. First, in the tavern with the ¡®officers¡¯¡ªplayers who led particularly strong parties¡ªand later back at the apartment with Josh, Fiona, and Andrew. Louis returned after a long absence, looking uncharacteristically melancholic, as if he had just said goodbye to an old friend. He climbed into Milli¡¯s lap and curled up, his soft, mournful sighs punctuating the quiet moments as she stroked his fur with gentle care. The strategy was straightforward but risky: two fronts. Edward and his men would stage a frontal assault, drawing the bulk of the goblin forces toward them. Meanwhile, our team would slip around the back to cut the head off the snake. The success of the plan hinged on timing and coordination¡ªand a few assumptions. Milli had worked closely with Edward to refine the approach, though she made it clear she didn¡¯t want to give up first dibs on the loot. ¡°Let him keep the grunts busy,¡± she¡¯d said earlier. ¡°We¡¯ll take care of what actually matters.¡± The attack was scheduled for an hour after dawn. Goblins were nocturnal, and we reasoned the early morning hours would leave them at their most vulnerable. The six of us retired early, knowing we would need to wake several hours before sunrise to clear the approach. We woke in silence, ate a quick meal, and met Edward¡¯s men. If Edward had ordered them to be uncooperative, you couldn¡¯t tell. They greeted us warmly, their upbeat attitudes a sharp contrast to the tension in the air. Five of his men accompanied us: two specialists in trap disposal and three for muscle. Heading into the forest while it was still dark was a dangerous prospect. The moonlit hours brought out all manner of beasts, making every shadow a potential threat. Fiona¡¯s light spell became our guide, a softly glowing orb that floated above us, casting a dim glow. One of Edward¡¯s men, a crossbow-wielding fighter with chestnut hair and freckled skin, spoke up. ¡°Raise it higher, and make it as bright as possible.¡± Andrew bristled. ¡°Are you insane? That¡¯ll make us sitting ducks!¡± The man smiled disarmingly, his slight lisp adding an odd charm to his response. ¡°We¡¯re already sitting ducks. They can see us; we can¡¯t see them. If they¡¯re watching me, I want to make sure they know I¡¯m watching them right back.¡± Andrew relented, and Fiona raised the orb high into the air. It ballooned to the size of a beach ball, flooding a 50-foot radius with brilliant light. A group of feral goblins lurking in the shadows flinched and scattered, blinded by the sudden illumination. I was stunned by how effortlessly Fiona maintained the spell, her concentration unbroken as we pushed forward. The bright sphere lit our way until we reached the first traps. With nowhere to hide in the tree line, the goblin archers had retreated further up the path. Working alongside the trap specialists, I used my Find Flaw skill to point them out as soon as they were highlighted. As the tips of the massive circus tent began to peek through the trees, we dimmed the light to a manageable glow. Dawn had begun to break, and the pinstripe-clad goblins¡¯ numbers were noticeably thinning. They had been watching us from behind the tree line but didn¡¯t engage without the element of surprise on their side. Josh, Andrew, Sharla, and the three fighters split into two teams, moving carefully through the forest. Milli¡¯s latest gadget¡ªa flash grenade in the form of a small ball¡ªproved invaluable. It burned as brightly as a magnesium flare for about a minute, and the teams used them to devastating effect. Goblins caught in the flash were temporarily blinded, leaving them vulnerable to swift take-downs. The strategy worked like a charm, and the remining goblins quickly retreated behind the chain-link fences, posting up sentries instead of engaging head-on. The resistance was lighter than I¡¯d expected, but the sense of foreboding only deepened as we drew closer to the circus tent. We pushed up to only about 10 metres from the ticket booth, we had to fight tooth and nail for every meter up to that point and eventually retreated to the fallback point to meet up with the main force. They arrived like clockwork and set straight to the task at hand, archers and ranged magic users peppered the chain-link fence and the archers positioned atop them. The field engineering unit rushed forward with practiced precision, slamming spiked barricades into the ground in staggered lines. The setup formed a zigzag path that provided clear lines of sight for our archers while forcing the goblins coming up the path to filter through slowly. Each barricade was a metal fence section with two prominent forward-facing spikes and a V-legged kickstand that swung down to support its weight. I¡¯d stopped to watch them drill this manoeuvre earlier, impressed by their efficiency. In less than thirty seconds, they could remove it to allow melee units to advance, and slam it back into place to secure newly won ground. The action was seamless, methodical, and brutally effective. As soon as the first barricade hit the ground, a gate beside the turnstiles swung open with a jarring creak. A flood of colour spilled out¡ªa chaotic torrent of goblins clad in garish yellows, reds and blues. They charged forward, wielding oversized clown hammers, acid-filled water balloons, and brightly coloured crossbows that resembled children¡¯s toys. Our ranged units wasted no time. Arrows and bolts rained down on the advancing horde, thinning their ranks with devastating efficiency. Goblin archers climbed onto sentry towers, woefully exposed, were easy pickings. As one fell another took its place, even with the number advantage they were incapable of providing any cover fire. The main wave smashed into the spiked barricades, their momentum working against them as they impaled themselves on the steel points. Ranged attacks from our backline rained down relentlessly, coordinated by spotters positioned among the front lines. Every missile found its mark, guided with precision that turned the chaotic battlefield into a controlled slaughter. Once we captured the gate, the engineering unit moved swiftly again. Lightweight, fortified platforms were erected on either side, complete with murder holes that allowed archers to fire directly into the goblin ranks. The barricades held firm, and the flow of goblins slowed to a trickle, like a surgeon expertly stitching a severed artery. But the goblins weren¡¯t done. A group tried to flank us through the tree line. Our response was immediate. Players hurled firebombs into the underbrush, the flames roaring to life and engulfing the goblins in a fiery blaze. The inferno created an impenetrable wall of heat and smoke, making further attempts at a side attack impossible for the moment. The kill box was set, and the goblins were trapped. Our infiltration team slipped into the forest behind our lines, moving in a wide arc toward the residential area. The goblins were cowering inside their crude homes, their terrified wails mixing with the sounds of the battle. Milli tossed a small metallic ball into the courtyard, and it erupted into a cloud of smoke. The goblins¡¯ screams of fear filled the air as we breached the flimsy fence. The smoke bombs used a flour like substance that hung in the air and coated every surface it settled on. Ignoring the panicked creatures scrambling for cover, we sprinted toward the building leading to the tent. Inside, the atmosphere changed immediately¡ªit felt like stepping into a decrepit arcade mall. The ceiling pressed down just two meters above us, it was stifling, though the hallway was wide enough for four people to walk side by side. The walls were haphazardly constructed from mismatched slabs of wood, plastered with faded posters of Nobblehob¡¯s grotesque face. Some had crude graffiti scrawled over them, mocking or defacing their leader. The uneven floor beneath us creaked ominously, threatening to give way with every step. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. From the cloth-covered doorways lining the space, six goblins jumped out, snarling and screeching. They wore tattered circus clothes smeared with grime, and their faces were painted with crude, streaky white paint, enhancing their already hideous features. ¡°Get fuck out of house!¡± one of them shrieked in broken English, brandishing a kitchen knife as it lunged at me. I deflected the clumsy attack with my staff, swinging it around in a follow up attack. The metal collided with its head with a sickening crunch, the impact sending a spray of gore and bone fragments across the wooden floor. The goblin crumpled instantly, its grotesque features frozen in a rictus of rage. Another goblin leapt at Sharla, aiming for her head, but she raised her shield in time to catch it mid-air. With a quick, practised motion, she threw it back into the cluster of goblins behind it, scattering them like bowling pins. Milli and Andrew took careful potshots, their precision keeping the goblins pinned without risking a friendly fire incident. Each of their projectiles was enhanced by Josh¡¯s buffs, crackling with elemental energy as they found their targets. Fiona stood at the centre of the group, chanting a unintelligible hymn that wrapped us in a subtle glow, bolstering our stamina and healing our minor wounds. We cut through the goblins with ruthless efficiency. Those that survived scrambled back into their homes, shielding their children and infants. None of us had the will¡ªor the stomach¡ªto slaughter them. We were here to do a job, not commit a massacre. At the end of the hallway stood a pair of imposing double doors. Pushing through, we entered a large mess hall. The room was segmented by long, crude benches piled high with food, much of it rotten. Half-eaten scraps spilled onto the floor, which was a matted, sticky carpet of spoiled leftovers and dark, dried filth. The stench was unbearable¡ªlike sticking my head into a sun-baked dumpster. I pulled my scarf over my nose, but it wasn¡¯t enough. The sour, putrid odour found its way into my mouth and nose, making me gag. On the walls, more double doors led deeper into the compound. The sound of a distant explosion made me pause, and I wondered if it had come from our side or theirs. Haunting calliope music drifted faintly from somewhere ahead, a discordant melody that sent chills down my spine as we crept further into the hall. It was then that I noticed the unmistakable remains of players among the piles of food. Bones stripped of flesh jutted from the grotesque heaps, and bits of armour, stained with dark, crusted blood, lay scattered like discarded toys. My stomach churned violently, and I barely managed to pull my scarf down in time before vomiting onto the floor. The taste filled my mouth as I retched again, my body shaking. The ground beneath my feet crunched softly, the dried remains of... something cracking under my weight. I bit down on my tongue hard enough to draw blood, forcing the nausea down. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, but I steadied myself. There was no time for weakness now. ¡°We need to keep moving,¡± Sharla said softly, her voice barely audible over the music and the pounding in my head. I nodded, wiping my mouth and tightening my grip on my staff. Before we could take another step, the doors behind us burst open, and a gaggle of goblins poured into the hallway, snarling and screeching. Without hesitation, we sprinted for the doors leading deeper into the tent. Milli lobbed her frost bomb into the oncoming wave. It detonated mid-air, instantly freezing the goblins in place. Their faces were locked in vicious snarls, their green skin blackened with frostbite. A frigid wave of air rushed past us, and I shivered involuntarily. The doors led to a long, narrow corridor lined with dressing room doors. Each was adorned with a star and scribbled text in Goblinese. The makeshift signs denoted different circus acts.
Ryan: The doors say acrobats, strongmen, tamers, and service.
Since I was the only one who could read the language, it was up to me to provide translations as we navigated the maze-like interior. At the end of the hallway stood another set of double doors, larger and more ornate than the rest. Above them, scrawled in large, jagged letters, were the words "Main Stage." We moved cautiously down the cramped corridor, the fetid stench of the mess hall clinging to the air. The hallway was just wide enough to stand two abreast, so we formed up into three rows: Sharla and Milli at the front, Josh and Fiona in the middle, and Andrew and me bringing up the rear. Milli readied a smoke bomb as Sharla cracked the door open just wide enough for her to toss it inside. She tossed it inside and a dense cloud of smoke billowed out as Milli followed up with a flash bomb. The blinding flash was accompanied by panicked shrieks from the other side, confirming that the room was packed with enemies. Judging by the sheer volume of noise, there had to be at least three dozen goblins inside¡ªand something much, much larger, growling deeply amidst the chaos. I pushed forward, pulling a small can of deodorant from my inventory. It was one of the first rewards I¡¯d earned, and I¡¯d discovered that removing the cap exposed a plastic stem highlighted by my Find Flaw skill. ¡°Josh, Milli, fireball¡ªhit it when it lands!¡± I said, tossing the can into the room. Josh ignited Milli''s projectile with a quick spell, and she launched it with precision, her crosse hurtling the fiery object forward. The deodorant can struck the ground, erupting into a massive fireball. The smoke bomb caught fire in the process, and we were completely unprepared for the resulting explosion. The doors slammed open with a concussive blast, and flames licked through the gap. Milli¡¯s hair singed, and the exposed parts of my face stung with burns, though my enhanced healing quickly repaired the damage. The shrieking and roaring from the room reached a fever pitch before starting to fade. After a tense moment, we cautiously opened the door. Inside was chaos. The sprawling main stage was divided into several performance areas, each one partially or fully ablaze. Wooden fences painted with faded blue, red, and white triangles surrounded the stages, were scorched and crumbling. The Strongman Stage was littered with oversized weights and props. At its centre, an ogre rolled on the ground, its entire body engulfed in flames as it desperately tried to extinguish itself. The Acrobat Stage was a hellish scene of burning trapezes and collapsing tightropes. Goblins fell from the heights like flaming comets, crashing to the ground with wet thuds. The Tamer Arena, encased in a chain-link fence painted to appear invisible, held two massive bears, each the size of an SUV. Their fur had burned away, revealing blistered, raw flesh as they pawed at the flames in agony. The grandstands were entirely aflame, collapsing rapidly and crushing dozens of goblin spectators who had been caught in the blaze. The stench of burnt flesh and wood hung in the air, acrid and nauseating. Amidst the destruction, one figure remained standing: the ringmaster. His once-dapper outfit was mostly burned away, but he seemed unbothered. He downed a glowing potion in one gulp, and the burns covering his body healed instantly. He smashed the empty bottle against the floor, his tiny frame trembling as his skin rippled unnaturally. Then, he threw his head back and roared¡ªa sound impossibly loud for such a small creature. The force of it rattled my chest and set my ears ringing. Before we could process what was happening, the doors behind us burst open again. Goblins spilled out of the performers¡¯ dressing rooms, screaming and brandishing makeshift weapons. ¡°Fuck,¡± I muttered, gripping my staff tighter. Sharla sent a message to the group,
Sharla: Ryan and Andrew, plan B, you two cover our asses, rest of you with me.
Andrew and I spun to face the advancing goblins. Without hesitation, I surged forward, activating the pointed spear tip on my multi-tool. I unleashed a flurry of thrusts, each one striking true, while Andrew fired arrow after arrow with deadly accuracy. Goblins dropped like sacks of stones, but more poured out from the rooms, an unrelenting tide of snarling green. Behind me, I heard the clash of battle as the rest of our party engaged what remained of the main act. The explosion had done much of the work, but not enough to finish the job. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the doors to the mess hall begin to creak open. Something was stirring on the other side. Without thinking, I sprinted toward them, leaping over a group of goblins that clawed at my legs as I passed. In midair, I pulled out my unaltered staff. I slammed into the doors with all my weight, feeling something heavy fall back on the other side. Quickly, I fed the metal rod through the door handles and pressed the button to extend it. The staff wedged tightly against the doorjamb, locking the doors shut. Before I could catch my breath, two goblins leapt onto my back, their sharp claws raking at my face. I felt one swipe dangerously close to my eye. A sharp impact, and the weight of one was gone¡ªa clean arrow through its head. Andrew¡¯s aim was as reliable as ever. I reached up, shortening my spear and jamming it into the second goblin¡¯s chest. It fell limp as I ripped the blade free. Milli¡¯s scream pierced the cacophony of battle, a sound so raw it froze my blood. I glanced at Andrew¡ªhis expression torn between holding the hallway and rushing to help the others. Behind him, the doors to the main stage hung ajar. About fifteen goblins remained in the corridor, the flood finally abating from the rooms. "Go!" I shouted at him. "I''ll deal with these ones!" He hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding and sprinting through the doors. As he disappeared, I caught a brief glimpse of Nobblehob, who was now a grotesque misshapen mass. His body had swelled to twice its size, muscles rippling unnaturally under neon-blue veins. He loomed over Milli, who lay on her back, defenceless. An arrow struck Nobblehob square in the chest, and he staggered backward, but I had no time to see more as the goblins in the hallway surged forward, screeching in unison. I spun my staff into a high arc, preparing the windmill defence, but the narrow hallway betrayed me. The staff struck the wall with a loud crack, jarring my grip. A goblin slammed into me, almost knocking me off balance. Growling, I grabbed it by the throat and hurled it back into the oncoming horde, knocking a handful to the floor. I shortened my spear to as small as I could, mindful of the system¡¯s classification rules, and charged forward. Another goblin lunged for me, and I skewered it midair. With a heave, I sent its lifeless body flying off the blade. Pivoting, I swung the spear in a sweeping arc, the edge slicing through two more goblins. Their bellies split open, spilling entrails across the uneven floor. I pressed forward relentlessly, my spear a blur of jabs and slashes. One by one, the goblins fell, reduced to broken, twitching heaps on the blood-slick floor. Finally, only one remained. Its yellow eyes locked on mine as we watched each other. I tried to lung but before I could strike, the door behind me crashed open with a thunderous bang. The impact hit me square in the back, sending me hurtling forward. I crashed into the last goblin, pinning it under my weight as we slammed into the ground. I whipped around, expecting a flood of goblins to pour through the door. Instead, standing there like a spectre of death, was Captain Mathews. His dead, expressionless eyes locked onto mine. ¡°Captain,¡± I began, extending a hand for help. He ignored it. He took in the hallway, scanning each of the entrances. He was covered in gore, looking like he had been bathed in viscera. Without a word, his massive hand shot out and clamped around my throat. I barely had time to react before I was yanked off the ground with a grunt of effort. His grip was like iron. I clawed at his arm, but my nails scraped uselessly against his skin, as if trying to scratch sheet metal. My lungs burned, my head throbbed, and pressure built behind my eyes, threatening to burst. I tried to cry out, but only a strangled gurgle escaped. My vision blurred, and a red haze crept in from the edges. Impassively, Mathews sheathed his blade and twisted me into a headlock, wrenching my neck at an unnatural angle. I thrashed violently, but my feet dangled helplessly, unable to find purchase. The throbbing in my skull became unbearable, like a balloon filled past its limit, ready to pop. And then something did. A wet, sickening burst. Warmth splattered against my cheek, and my right eye went dark. My entire interface flooded red. Over the pounding in my ears, I heard Mathews grunt¡ªthen a loud, final crack. Everything stopped. My body went limp. Feeling drained away like water slipping through my fingers. With a shift of his stance, Mathews heaved me through the air. I crashed through one of the flimsy performer¡¯s doors, hitting the ground hard in a tangle of shattered furniture and discarded props. I lay there, dying. I couldn''t see. I couldn''t hear. My body was gone, erased from sensation. My interface had vanished. Yet, strangely, I felt calm. The others will be okay. Sharla will look after them. The detachment was eerily familiar¡ªlike Samantha¡¯s Kiss, but somehow softer. More peaceful. And, as if summoned by my thoughts, her voice coiled around me like silk. "Oh, my poor sweet baby¡­ look what he¡¯s done to you." I almost laughed. Was she really going to be the last voice I heard? Well¡­ better than Mathews, I supposed. "I wasn¡¯t expecting to have to do this so soon, but I can¡¯t have you leaving before the real fun begins." Chapter 24 Agony. Blinding, all-encompassing agony. My neck shifted, bones snapping back into place with grotesque precision. Nerve endings flared to life one by one, each a white-hot lance of electricity piercing deep into my body. It lasted mere seconds¡ªan eternity trapped inside a moment. The world snapped back into focus. In the corner of my vision, a notification flickered into existence.
System Message: Boon ¡°Never Gonna Give You Up¡± has been activated. This boon has now been removed.
I gasped, desperate to fill my lungs, but something was wrong. My right eye refused to open. Panic seized me, and my fingers shot up, trembling, reaching¡ª I felt wet, mangled flesh dangling from the socket. A choked gag clawed up my throat, but I had no time to fall apart. As I gasped for air, the haunting strains of the calliope music swelled, drilling into my skull like nails. Then, footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. Mathews sauntered into the room, his movements unhurried, like a man finishing a job he¡¯d done a thousand times before. I guess he knew better than anyone¡ªaround here, you step on their head to make sure they¡¯re dead. He loomed in the doorway, studying me with a curious expression. For a moment, it almost seemed like he was about to say something. Then, without a word, he reached for his blade. The towering brute wasted no time closing the gap, moving even faster than he had in the fighting pit. His knife gleamed in the dim light, a silver arc slashing toward me. I barely twisted out of the way, feeling the blade whistle past my ribs. I retracted the spear tip on Milli¡¯s Multi-tool and retaliated with a sharp thrust of my quarterstaff, aiming low to force him back. But he stepped in without hesitation, catching the haft in one meaty hand. I wasn¡¯t ready to take another human life. Some naive part of me still believed that if I could hold out long enough, I could make him talk. That there was some way out of this that didn¡¯t end with one of us bleeding out on the floor. Mathews had no such hesitation. With a sharp twist, he wrenched my weapon out of alignment, throwing me off balance. Then his free hand came up like a piston, slamming into my chest. The force sent me stumbling, my lungs seizing as the air was driven from them. I barely had time to gasp before his boot lashed out in a vicious kick, striking my thigh. Pain exploded up my leg, and I nearly collapsed. He wasn¡¯t just strong¡ªhe was trained. Every movement was precise, every strike calculated to break me down, piece by piece. A detached part of my brain registered something cold and inevitable. I had likely just died. So why was I so calm? Shouldn¡¯t I be sobbing, begging, breaking? My ruined eye dangled by a single thread of viscera. The urge to tear it out clawed at the edges of my mind, to rip away the distraction so I could focus on the fight in front of me. Gripping my weapon tighter, I extended the blade and jabbed toward his midsection¡ªfast, controlled, desperate to force him back. The attack lacked power. It wasn¡¯t meant to kill. It was just me trying to buy another second to live. If I could just get a few seconds, I could send a message to the party¡ªwarn them before it was too late. I had no idea how their fight was going, but if Mathews got past me without them knowing, he¡¯d cut through them like paper. I struck again, but he dodged with startling grace, weaving around my attack and closing the distance in an instant. His hand clamped down on my wrist, twisting sharply. Pain shot up my arm as he drove his shoulder into my chest, knocking me off balance and slamming me to the ground. I hit hard, the impact rattling through my bones. Before I could react, his knife came down in a brutal arc, aiming to pin my skull to the floor. I rolled, the blade sinking deep into the wood where my head had been a second earlier. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. Midway through the manoeuvre, something wet and foreign slipped beneath my boot. A small pop. A sickening smear of red. My right eye¡ªwhat was left of it¡ªhad finally detached completely. Using the momentum, I swung my spear in a wide arc, catching him across the shin. It was enough to make him falter, giving me a chance to scramble to my feet. The deep wound on his leg healed instantly. He came at me again, leading with a feint from the knife before pivoting into a brutal elbow strike. I barely managed to block, but the impact sent shocks up my arm. His leg shot out in a sweeping kick that broke my stance, and I hit the floor hard, my spear retracted and the small metal cylinder clattering away through a cloth covered doorway. This is bad. I thought to myself, he had me outclassed in raw power and technique, it was taking everything I had just to stay alive. But I wasn¡¯t about to give up. I rolled through the opening, getting to my feet, grabbing a nearby stool and swinging it toward him. He deflected it with his forearm, but it gave me a precious second to dart toward Milli''s Multi-tool. He was on me again in an instant, though, his knife flashing toward my side. I twisted, letting the blade scrape harmlessly along the edge of my vest before snapping the staff to full length, swinging it up to catch him in the ribs. The hit connected and I felt one of his bones break from the force, he grunted and staggered back a step. The fight had spilled into the adjoining room, where the circus¡¯s calliope stood, its exposed gears clicking and whirring ominously. The room was cramped, cluttered with half-finished machinery and maintenance tools. My opponent didn¡¯t seem to care, weaving through the obstacles with unnerving ease. He feinted high, then kicked low, his boot catching me in the side and slamming me into the calliope''s frame. I could feel the cold metal pressing into my back, the vibration of the gears humming against my spine. He followed up with a grab, hoisting me off my feet and slamming me down onto the floor. My vision blurred red as pain radiated through my back. He took the moment to check his injured side, I got up, steadying myself as I stood. But then I saw it: an opening. The exposed gears. The glint of moving metal was like a beacon, and my Flaw Finder skill flared to life, highlighting the danger zone in my vision. A massive explosion rang out and the walls shook, it had come from the tent''s main area. When he lunged at me again, I twisted aside, letting his momentum carry him forward. I hooked my spear against his forearm, redirecting the knife¡¯s trajectory, and with every ounce of strength, I shoved him toward the gears. There was a sickening crunch as his arm caught in the calliope¡¯s mechanism. The sharp grinding of metal against bone made my stomach churn, and his howl of agony replaced the slow tune of the now disabled instrument. The knife clattered to the floor, forgotten, as he thrashed wildly, trying to free himself. But the machine had him. His forearm was wedged deep between the grinding cogs, and each desperate pull only seemed to drag him further in. Blood poured in rivulets from the mangled flesh, dripping into the machinery with a steady, metallic rhythm. Bones jutted grotesquely through torn skin, his arm contorted at angles that no healthy limb should be able to achieve. He roared in pain and rage, his free hand clawing at the gears, but the grimy metal showed no mercy. Then, with a sickening crackle, his healing factor took hold. The exposed bones began to shift, attempting to knit themselves back together as best they could. But the relentless machine worked against it, chewing through his flesh as fast as it could regenerate. The result was a nightmarish tug-of-war between his ability and the calliope¡¯s gears. The arm healed in warped, misshapen clumps of flesh and bone. His strength faltered, his movements becoming sluggish as blood loss took its toll. His twisted, useless limb dangled grotesquely from the machine, fused into its grinding mechanism. He slumped forward, pinned, his expression a mask of fury and desperation. He snarled like a cornered animal, trying one last time to wrench himself free, but the machine¡¯s iron grip held fast. He was trapped, defeated, as the calliope let out a loud grinding noise. My chest heaved, each breath sending waves of pain through my battered body. I stood there, torn, the question gnawing at me: should I try to free him or leave him to his fate? My interface chimed, and a message blinked into view:
Sharla: Nobblecunt is dead, but the tent is about to collapse. Milli threw his own bomb back at him¡ªit was fucking epic. Get in here before the whole thing comes down on our heads!
Without a second thought I bolted out of the room and into the inferno that was once the main tent leaving Mathews thrashing violently at the machine. The heat was suffocating, the air thick with smoke as flames devoured the canvas walls and ceiling. The central pole supporting the structure had been obliterated, blown apart by the explosion, Milli¡¯s handiwork. Through the gaping hole left behind, I could see the orange-blue expanse of sky bleeding into early morning. My party was clustered near the centre, hastily looting what they could from the remnants of the Nobblehob and the performers. Every single one of them was made it out alive, though they were all battered and bloodied, their faces streaked with ash and blood. Sharla¡¯s eyes locked onto me, her face draining of color as she took in my empty eye socket. She hesitated, lips parting as if to speak. ¡°No time, Sharla! Run!¡± I shouted, cutting her off before she could put words to whatever horror was written across her face. The others stood frozen, confusion flickering in their expressions. Sharla was the first to react¡ªshe grabbed Fiona¡¯s arm and shoved her toward the exit. ¡°Move! Now!¡± she barked, and that was all it took. One by one, they broke into a sprint, the tent groaning as its burning structure buckled behind us. We sprinted toward the exit, dodging falling debris and sidestepping patches of flaming rubble. I desperately wanted to know how the main assault group was holding up, but there was no time to double back. The structure groaned ominously as more supports buckled under the relentless advance of the fire. Milli would have to get us a report once we were safe. Sharla glanced back, her expression grim but focused. As we neared the exit, the flaps billowed wildly in the wind, revealing flashes of a surreal landscape beyond¡ªa grand city of gleaming towers perched atop rolling hills blanketed in lush farmland. It was impossibly vivid, like a painting brought to life. Between us and the city, however, shimmered an opaque barrier that distorted the air like a heat mirage. None of us hesitated. The tent was collapsing behind us in a torrent of flames and ash, leaving no other choice. With a final push, we barrelled toward the barrier, the heat at our backs like the breath of a ravenous beast. The moment we hit it, the barrier resisted like thick jelly, pressing against us as if reluctant to let us through. Then, in an instant, it yielded. We stumbled forward, emerging into a blinding burst of light that consumed everything in its brilliance. Epilogue The assault was a resounding success. Edward was not surprised, of course. Their opponent had been unprepared for any real show of force. The coordinated siege stemmed the tide of goblins with ruthless efficiency; the creatures became little more than lambs to the slaughter. Though lives were lost¡ªan inevitability in any battle¡ªthe toll was far lighter than expected. Of nearly four hundred participants, only about seventy perished, and none of the fallen were Edward¡¯s men. To him, this was no coincidence. Without his leadership, these people were little more than children playing at war. Amateurs, disorganized and reckless. They lacked cohesion, strategy, or the faintest hope of discipline. Edward was certain that, without his guidance, they would have thrown themselves at the goblin encampment in fragmented groups until they were decimated, leaving nothing but despair in their wake. Thirty minutes into the battle, a noticeable shift occurred. Reports from his officers confirmed that the goblins had lost all semblance of organization. They were retreating¡ªpanicked and frenzied¡ªtearing down their own defences to facilitate a chaotic escape. Victory was all but assured. But Edward could not savour it. The notification came through just as he allowed himself a moment of satisfaction, dousing his triumph in white-hot rage.
Capt. Leonard Mathews: Requesting assistance, I was unable to complete my mission, I am currently incapacitated and unable to retreat to the designated fallback location. Edward: Elaborate.
Edward¡¯s blood pressure surged as he read the message, his vision blurring and his face burning with fury. Mathews had failed. Mathews¡ªa career soldier with an impeccable record, a man whose accomplishments were the envy of any commissioned officer¡ªhad failed to kill a twenty something kid with little to no real training. The very idea was preposterous. Ryan¡¯s guild was resourceful, yes. They possessed an array of unorthodox skills not seen among the players Edward had integrated. But Mathews? He was supposed to be untouchable. Through gritted teeth, Edward read the follow-up report. Mathews, despite his agony and predicament behind enemy lines, relayed the information with clarity and precision, refusing to obfuscate his failure. The cause was undeniable¡ªRyan. There was something uncanny about that boy ¡ª no, man. Reports consistently indicated that anyone who fought Ryan encountered inexplicable setbacks. By all accounts, Mathews¡¯ should have torn him limb from limb. Yet, somehow, Ryan had turned the tables. Edward forced himself to focus. The battlefield was still active, and while the goblins were in full retreat, a counterattack was a very real possibility if they were not crushed entirely. He dispatched a contingent of players to retrieve Mathews, led by one of his most trusted officers. Simultaneously, he ordered an assault team to push deeper into the goblin stronghold, securing a foothold and ensuring no remnants of resistance could regroup. Total victory might be within reach, but Edward had no intention of leaving anything to chance. It was concluded that Ryan¡¯s team had successfully defeated the ringleader. To the enlisted players, this was all part of the strategy: Edward and his forces were to create an opening for a precision strike led by Ryan¡¯s team. As far as they knew, this was textbook battlefield coordination, utilizing a disruption of command structures to cripple the enemy. What they did not know was that Ryan¡¯s team was supposed to fail, leaving Mathews looking like the hero who saved the mission. Edward had manipulated Milli to insist that her team take point on the infiltration. She hadn¡¯t suspected for a moment that her decision had been carefully maneuvered into place. As a veteran of counterintelligence, Edward was an expert at working assets and sowing misinformation. Manipulating players into doing his bidding was, for him, an effortless exercise. Even so, the group had surprised him. When the tent erupted in a massive fireball, Edward initially chalked it up to Mathews letting off some steam¡ªor, perhaps, a desperate last attack from the goblins. But the reports from his men told a different story. Ryan¡¯s team had not only neutralized the ringleader but took no casualties. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. Edward¡¯s original plan had been simple: have Mathews trail Ryan¡¯s team and pick them off at the right moment. The ultimate goal was to join Ryan¡¯s guild, assume control, and leverage its benefits while maintaining autonomy from the Adventurers Guild. While his disdain for the system and lack of a class was genuine, the rest of his pitch to Ryan had been a carefully woven lie. When it became clear that Ryan would never bring him into the fold, Edward decided that having him running around was an unnecessary annoyance. Now, everything was in disarray. Mathews had failed and Ryan had slipped through his grasp. His men had crossed the barrier and reported a tranquil landscape of cobblestone roads, pastures, and farmland. Their cross was approximately ten minutes after theirs but they couldn¡¯t find any sign of the group. Edward himself had not yet made the attempt. Not wanting to be caught off guard, he waited until half his forces had passed through the barrier, setting up a defensive position around the landing zone while dispatching scouts to assess the new environment. Mathews returned from his ordeal scarred¡ªboth physically and mentally. His arm, still fused to the machine, had to be amputated. Though he remained professional and composed during his debrief, Edward could see the event had shaken him. Edward ordered Mathews to stay by his side, knowing his presence would still be invaluable. As Edward approached the barrier, he watched a group of players pass through the jelly-like substance. Confidently, he stepped forward, letting the barrier press against his face. But instead of giving way, it resisted like thick rubber. His nose squished painfully, and the barrier forced him back with a solid shove. A notification flashed before his eyes.
System Notification: Players who lack class assignment are unable to proceed to the next area. Please finish class assignment before continuing.
Edward¡¯s mind raced, and he quickly pulled Mathews back before he could step through. ¡°Sir?¡± Mathews asked calmly, though the way he was scrutinising him betrayed unease. He¡¯d seen this look on Edward¡¯s face before¡ªmost notably during the disastrous prisoner exchange that had led to their court-martial. It was the look of a man facing a problem he hadn¡¯t anticipated. Edward took a steadying breath. ¡°We need to fall back to the guild and get me a class assignment. I can¡¯t pass through until I do.¡± Mathews didn¡¯t question it. Over the years, Edward had earned his unwavering trust. If his commander said they needed to adjust their plans, then that¡¯s what they would do. Together, they turned back toward the encampment, leaving the barrier¡ªand the forces waiting beyond it¡ªmomentarily behind. It was a gruelling three-hour round trip. Along the way, a handful of goblins attempted to ambush them, but even with only one arm, Mathews proved to be more than a match. He dispatched the attackers with brutal efficiency, his skill as a fighter undiminished despite his injury. The journey to the settlement was otherwise uneventful, and Edward wasted no time upon arrival. The induction and class assignment process was expedited with ruthless precision, much to the irritation of the instructor and staff. Edward selected a rogue-style class called a ¡°Slippery John.¡± The absurd naming conventions grated on his nerves, but the class¡¯s skills made up for the indignity. It granted him proficiency with daggers, provided ludicrous damage multipliers when attacking unaware enemies, and allowed him to blend seamlessly into shadows for brief periods. Edward couldn¡¯t help but wonder if the class had been inherited from one of the players who had fallen in the raid, but it was of little consequence. On their way back to the encampment, Edward received a troubling report: the barrier separating the encampment from the new area had begun to solidify. Though three-quarters of the forces had successfully crossed, the final group who were waiting for him reported that players had started struggling to breach it. The message left a sour taste in Edward¡¯s mouth. He and Mathews were still an hour away from the encampment, and the return trip proved more hazardous as the goblin forces regrouped, forming patrols along the roads. The pair fought their way through, Edward¡¯s new skills proving to be exhilarating to use as he picked off enemies from the shadows. The power of these abilities were undeniable, he could feel his body fill with vigour. Mathews, undeterred by his injury, cut down attackers with a ferocity that left no doubt as to why Edward trusted him implicitly. Each skirmish honed Edward¡¯s abilities further, and his confidence in his newly acquired class grew. By the time they reached the encampment, the situation had worsened. The barrier had completely sealed, rejecting all further attempts to pass. The remaining forces regrouped, battered but alive, and it was clear the goblin encampment was beginning to re-form. Patrols became more frequent, and the tent and its fortifications had started repairing themselves. Edward cursed his earlier oversight. Mathews had suggested he take up a class before the raid began, but Edward had dismissed the idea, unwilling to settle for any of the lacklustre options available at the time. Now, his delay had cost them precious time and momentum. Still, he refused to dwell on his failure for long. There was a sizable number of players left in the settlement, ripe for recruitment, and the intelligence gathered during the raid had already sparked a new plan. This time, Edward would forgo the need for a sacrificial force. Instead, he would orchestrate a precise, surgical strike, infiltrating the encampment to eliminate the VIP without drawing the enemy out en masse. Then he would cross that barrier. And when he did, Edward promised himself, Ryan and his little band of misfits would pay. He would hunt them down and make them suffer¡ªeach one of them¡ªbefore ending Ryan. Mathews¡¯ failure and his own humiliation would be avenged, and the boy would learn what it truly meant to challenge someone like himself.