《I am a Table [A LitRPG Progression Story]》 Chapter 1: He is now a table His eyes snap open. Cold stone presses against his back, and the damp air stinks of mildew and old wood. His breath comes ragged, his body heavy. The scent of sawdust and varnish lingers, thick and filled with smells of unfamiliar wood. He tries to move¡ªlift an arm, flex a finger¡ªbut nothing responds. Panic sets in. System initializing¡­ A voice¡ªno, a thought¡ªechoes in his mind. A thought that isn¡¯t his. It feels distant yet absolute. Like the murmurs of an intrusive God that cannot be blocked. Analyzing¡­ He wants to scream. He wants to ask where he is, why he can¡¯t move. But his mouth won¡¯t open. He has no mouth. Configuration complete. Welcome to The Uninspiringly Named Medieval Realm. The weight in his chest grows unbearable. He strains, desperate to see, to feel, to be. And then, at last, his vision clears. The room was dark. Wooden walls, rough-hewn and worn with age. Dust floats in the air, catching the faint light from a single, flickering lantern. Workbenches line the walls, cluttered with chisels, planes, and half-carved chair legs. He tries again to move, but still¡ªnothing. A shadow passes over him. A burly man in a stained apron. A carpenter? No, a craftsman. The man grunts, slapping a palm against¡ªagainst him. "Sturdy enough," the man mutters. "That''ll make a fine centerpiece." He is now a table. *** The world lurches beneath him. A rhythmic creaking fills his ears, accompanied by the distant clatter of hooves against cobblestone. He¡¯s on a horse-drawn cart. Its wooden frame groans under the weight of cargo. Around him, sacks of grain, wooden crates, and stacks of lumber jostle with each bump in the road. But more importantly, he is among them. He is cargo. His vision is limited¡ªlocked into place, unable to turn his head¡ªbut he can make out the town unfolding before him. Stone buildings with thatched roofs line the streets. Merchants call out their wares, their voices overlapping into an endless shouting contest. He can hear their voices. ¡°Bread! Fresh bread! So cheap! Only five shillings!¡± ¡°Bread! Fresh bread! So cheap! Only four shillings!¡± ¡°Piss off you harlot buttock undercutter!¡± Then, something catches his attention. A wooden signpost swings gently in the wind, its words etched in bold, black ink: The Township of Iakesi. Iakesi? The name means nothing to him. But then again, what does? He searches his mind for answers. Who is he? Where did he come from? The memories should be there¡ªmust be there¡ªbut all he finds is an empty void, a yawning abyss where his past should be. He remembers the feeling of having a life, but not the details. Like a book missing all its pages. Like an isekai novel where he¡¯s transported to another realm and conveniently loses all his memory so the reader can easily insert themselves into the story. A sharp ding rings in his head. Status Window Initialized. A translucent screen materializes before his vision, glowing faintly. Words form, crisp and simple, but the font is hideous. Somehow, the name of the font is the only thing his memory can retain: Comic Sans. Also, conveniently, knowledge about game systems is still in his head.
Name Table
Race Animated Furniture (Table)
Class None
Level 1
HP 5/5
MP 0
STR 1
END 0
AGI 14
PER 1
Skills None
He bellows internally. Is this supposed to be my stats? Why? Why the hell does a table have 14 Agility?Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. What is he going to do with such abysmal stat distribution? What is he going to do at all, as a table? Luckily for him, with superior starting Agility stat, he can stay unanimated at neck-breaking speed. The cart hits a pothole. The impact sends some cargo flying¡ªand with his absurd AGI: 14, he somehow flips off the cart at high speed, lands on all four legs, and skids gracefully into an alleyway. The townspeople barely notice, except for one boy who stares in awe. ¡°Mom, the table just moved!¡± ¡°Tables don¡¯t move, dear,¡± a woman¡¯s voice rings out. The merchant swears as he pulls the reins, bringing the cart to a sharp halt. ¡°Damn roads, they never fix the bumps,¡± he mutters, hopping down with the ease of someone who has spent years chasing after runaway goods. Table internally panics. No, no, no, no¡ªrun! Move! Do something! But, of course, he can''t. He is a table. The merchant stomps over, dusting off his trousers as he surveys the alleyway. His gaze lands on Table, standing there perfectly still, like any normal inanimate object would. ¡°Well, would you look at that?¡± the merchant grumbles. ¡°How the hell did you get all the way over here?¡± Table considers his options. Maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªif he focuses hard enough, he can move. He wills his legs to dash, to spring away with his absurd AGI: 14, to flee like the wind itself. Nothing happens. The merchant grabs him by the edge and effortlessly hoists him up. ¡°Damn thing¡¯s lighter than it looks,¡± he notes, hauling Table back toward the cart. ¡°Must¡¯ve been made with Featherwood.¡± Table mentally screams. He had 14 Agility! Fourteen! That¡¯s more than some adventurers start with! What was the point if he couldn¡¯t even dodge a slow-moving merchant with bad knees? As he¡¯s tossed back onto the cart, jumbled between crates and sacks of grain, he despairs. So this is my life now. Then the merchant slams a pint of lager onto his surface. *** The cart rattles along the cobblestone road, weaving through the heart of Iakesi as the sun rises from the horizon. Table, still recovering from his utterly humiliating failure to escape, sulks in forced silence. But as the scenery shifts, his mood lifts. The first house they pass is massive, a sprawling estate with gleaming marble columns and a wrought-iron gate. A neatly trimmed hedge surrounds the property, with an elaborate stone fountain at its center. Water cascades from the mouth of a lion-headed statue, sparkling in the afternoon sun. This must belong to a noble! Maybe a lord or a baron! The cart keeps moving. The next home is even grander¡ªa three-story manor with intricate stained-glass windows, each of which etched on with scenes of chivalry and heroic battle. Ornate lanterns hang from polished oak doors, their golden handles reflecting the light. The walls are made of smooth, imported stone, fitted so precisely that not a single crack is visible. His metaphorical eyes shimmer. Surely, no other residence could be more fitting for a distinguished piece of furniture such as myself. Instead, it rolls past a lavish townhouse with balconies adorned with flowing silk banners. Past a luxurious villa, its rose garden blooming in carefully arranged colors. Past a stately residence, its gilded gates guarded by men in silver armor. Each home is grander than the last. Each one a perfect setting for a piece of fine, exquisite furniture such. Table can hardly contain his excitement. Then the cart takes a turn. The cobblestone gives way to packed dirt. The bustling market sounds fade. The air grows still. The horse leisurely strides down a narrow, unpaved path, passing modest cottages with crooked fences. Chickens peck at the ground, and laundry flutters from sagging lines. At the very end of the road, sitting alone like a forgotten afterthought, is his destination. A tiny, lopsided house, barely held together by its own will to exist. The thatch roof is missing a few patches, revealing glimpses of the wooden beams underneath. The front door tilts ever so slightly, as if it might fall off its hinges at any moment. A single window¡ªcracked¡ªlets in the faintest bit of light. A goat is tied to a post outside, chewing on a rope that seems dangerously close to snapping. It bahhhhhh at Table as it sees him. No. No, no, no. There must be some mistake. Goats don¡¯t bah. Sheep bah! The merchant hops off the cart, stretching his back. ¡°Whew. Finally here.¡± Finally WHERE? The door creaks open, and out steps a raggedy old man with a wiry beard and clothes that look like they¡¯ve been patched up more times than they should. This man looks like the type of person who never wipes his table after dinner. He squints at the merchant, then at the cart. ¡°Is this it?¡± the old man asks, rubbing his chin. ¡°Yup,¡± the merchant says. ¡°Sturdy thing. Should last you years.¡± The old man waddles over, places his rough hands on Table, and gives him a firm shake. ¡°Hmm. Not bad.¡± NO, NOT BAD? I AM EXCELLENT! I WAS MEANT FOR A MANSION! NOT THIS¡ªTHIS HOVEL! ¡°Alright,¡± the old man says. ¡°I¡¯ll take it.¡± NO, WAIT, DO NOT TAKE IT! I AM NOT EXCELLENT! I AM TERRIBLE! I BREAK IN HALF AT THE FIRST SIGN OF PRESSURE! Table¡¯s lifted off the cart and carried into his new home. Chapter 2: Do not scratch me you felonious feline! The inside of the house is exactly as Table feared. Cramped, dimly lit, and barely held together, it smells of damp wood, stale bread that probably worth less than four shillings, and something vaguely resembling cabbage. Cabbage! One should only eat this unholy abomination if they¡¯re actively seeking to sucker-punch themselves. The walls are uneven, made of rough, untreated timber, and the floor creaks with every step the old man takes. At the center of the room, a stone fireplace flutters, its flames doing little to warm the space. A single iron pot hangs over the fire, bubbling with a stew that Table can only assume has been simmering for several days too long. Two people sit near the fire¡ªa young man and a woman, probably in their twenties. The woman leans her head against the man¡¯s shoulder, sobbing miserably. Not because they¡¯re poor, this time, but there¡¯s another reason. ¡°The big viper lunged toward me.¡± She hiccups. ¡°But the army of kitties valiantly fought against it. But then the viper¡­ it¡­ it¡­ it bit Tabbycat! And Tabbycat died!¡± The man jolts. ¡°Tabbycat? Our tabby cat?¡± ¡°Our tabby cat!¡± She hollers, hands clutching her face. ¡°The viper retreated¡­But when I, when I hold Tabbycat in my hand¡­ He was cold! He was gone, Rob! He was gonnneeeeeeeee¡­.¡± Rob doesn¡¯t move for a moment. His face contorts, like a man caught between concern, disbelief, and creeping suspicion. Before he can say anything, the door creaks open. A small shadow slinks inside. A tabby cat. Tabby. Very alive. He casually strolls past them and hops onto Table, curling up like he owns the place. Rob watches, then looks at the woman. She is still sobbing. ¡°Lena,¡± Rob says. She sniffles. ¡°Yes?¡± He gestures. ¡°Tabby¡¯s right there.¡± Lena freezes. Her hands slowly lower from her tear-streaked face. Her red-rimmed eyes flick to the cat. The very alive cat. Tabby, meanwhile, has started licking his paw. His tail wags, radiating sheer feline indifference. There is a long, long pause. Then, Lena throws herself into Rob¡¯s chest. ¡°Rob, it was awful,¡± she wails. Rob looks at the ceiling, fingers tapping on the floor. ¡°Lena. Tabby is alive.¡± ¡°But in my dream, he died!¡± she insists, gripping his shirt. ¡°He was cold, Rob! Cold! He was gone! You don¡¯t understand the emotional trauma I have endured! The sorrow! The loss!¡± Tabby sneezes and rolls onto his back. Rob sighs. ¡°Lena.¡± Lena clutches his arm. ¡°I need you to hold me. I need comfort. I need pampering.¡± She lifts her head, peeking up at him. ¡°And pats.¡± Rob stares at her. Then at Biscuit. Then back at her. Biscuit, still lounging on Table, starts kneading his claws into the wood. Table internally howls in despair. FOUL CREATURE! HAVE YOU NO MERCY? DO NOT SCRATCH ME YOU FELONIOUS FELINE! Rob, meanwhile, accepts his fate. With a sigh, he reaches up and gently pats Lena¡¯s head. She sniffles theatrically and melts into his chest. ¡°Mmm. More.¡± Rob pats her again. Tabby stretches, purrs contentedly, scratches Table, and goes back to sleep. Table is seething. If anyone needs pampering, it is HIM. Not this overly dramatic woman. Not the useless cat. HIM. [SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: You have taken damage. Strength -1.] Table screams internally. WHAT? HOW? He has 5 HP! HEALTH. POINT. What are the health points for if the universe is just going to deduct strength from him? The cat¡ªthe absolute menace¡ªstretches again, dragging its claws lazily along Table¡¯s surface before settling down with a contented sigh. His stats beam before his eyes:
Name Table
Race Animated Furniture (Table)
Class None
Level 1
HP 5/5
MP 0
STR 0 (-1)
END 0
AGI 14
PER 1
Skills None
ZERO. He has zero strength. He is now physically incapable of being strong. [SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Endurance Training in Progress.] Table pauses his internal wailing. What? [STR reduced to 0. Temporary stat loss detected. If structural integrity remains intact with minimal HP loss, STR will increase upon recovery.]Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Hold on. This is a thing? Losing stats is¡­ training? This LitRPG system is messed up. The system really could¡¯ve led with that line. His mind races. Does this mean if I endure this suffering, I¡¯ll get stronger? A fire ignites in Table¡¯s wooden heart. No, not fire¡ªthat would be terrible¡ªbut determination. If this is a system feature, that means there¡¯s hope. He can regain his strength. Maybe even surpass it. Maybe¡­ he could one day become a mighty table. He steels himself. Yeah, Tabby. Yeahhh. Keep scratching, boy. I do love getting mauled by a cat. Give it to me. Biscuit stirs, stretches again, and¡ªSCRATCH. [HP: 5 ¡ú 4] Table screams. Wait. NO. NO HP LOSS. I¡¯m supposed to tank it! What kind of third-grade throwaway wood am I made from? [Training Canceled. No stat gains achieved. STR returned, +1] Table goes silent. Biscuit stretches one last time, lets out a long, exaggerated yawn, and hops off him as if he¡¯s nothing more than a common piece of furniture¡ªwhich, technically, he is, but that¡¯s beside the point. Table waits, heart¡ªor whatever the equivalent of a heart is for a table¡ªpounding. Come back. Scratch me again. The cat does not come back. COME BACK AND FINISH WHAT YOU STARTED, YOU LAZY FELINE. Tabby has moved on with his life, tail flicking as he saunters over to Lena, who immediately scoops him up, rubbing her face against his fur. ¡°Ohhh, you¡¯re so soft,¡± she coos, all previous grief forgotten. ¡°Such a strong little warrior, aren¡¯t you? Yes, you are.¡± Table seethes. Out of nowhere the old man claps his hands together. ¡°Alright, time for dinner.¡± Table, with his garbage [Stealth Detection Failed. PER is too low.] What even is PER? He¡¯s been thrown into this world with no explanation of the stats. Where is DEX? Where is INT? Where are the common stats in the common games he¡¯s played before? A sense of impending doom washes over Table. No. No, no, no. Surely, they wouldn¡¯t¡ª ¡°Let¡¯s break in the new table, then.¡± They would. Rob and Lena start moving about the house, gathering plates, bowls, and a heavy-looking pot from the fireplace. The old man places a firm, calloused hand on Table¡¯s surface and gives him a gentle pat. ¡°Solid thing. Should last us years.¡± LAST ME YEARS? I¡¯M GOING TO DIE IN MINUTES! Then the first plate lands. Then another. Then a heavy ceramic mug. Then the pot¡ªwhich is filled with steaming, sloshing stew that smells vaguely of cabbage. Table¡¯s body groans under the weight. Do not. Do not! [Endurance Training Initiated. Hold Steady.] Hold steady? HOLD STEADY?! WHAT ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO DO? More weight presses down as the family takes their seats, resting their arms on him. Elbows. Cutlery. Hands tapping idly against his wood. Tabby leaps back onto the table¡ªfinally¡ªbut instead of scratching, he simply curls up and purrs, vibrating directly against Table¡¯s already distressed frame. [+1 Endurance] Wait. Wait, that actually worked? The realization dawns on him. This is how training works in this world. The more stress he endures with minimal HP loss, the stronger he becomes. Pain is gain. Finally, something makes sense. He focuses. The stew sloshes. Lena leans too hard on one side, making one of his legs creak. But he endures. [+1 Endurance] A strange feeling bubbles up within him¡ªpride? Triumph? Determination. Sheer, sweltering determination. He refuses to accept this fate. He is not some lowly table destined to spend his existence supporting bowls of bland cabbage stew in a house that barely holds itself together. No. He must rise to the top, not just of this household, but of the world. If this is the form he has been cursed with, then he will make it legendary. There is no other option. To stagnate is to rot, and he is not about to let himself become firewood. He will grow. He will endure. This isn¡¯t the life he¡¯s asked for, but he will play the hand he¡¯s been dealt. He will become the strongest, sturdiest, most unbreakable table in history. After dinner, Table feels¡­ different. Jacked. Shredded. Enduring the weight of plates, bowls, and elbows leaning on him has fundamentally changed his very essence, lifting him to the stature of elites. A familiar chime rings in his head. [Status Updated.] A translucent screen flickers into view.
Name Table
Race Animated Furniture (Table)
Class None
Level 1
EXP 2/10
HP 5/5
MP 0
STR 1
END 2 (+2)
AGI 14
PER 1
Skills None
Finally. Growth. He is no longer just a mere table¡ªhe is now a slightly more durable table. There is even an experience tab now. He hasn¡¯t a clue when it showed up, but it¡¯s nice being able to track his leveling up progress. Does this mean if he keeps getting used, he¡¯ll get even stronger? Use me more! Abuse me! Let me become the mightiest piece of furniture in existence! Lena yawns and stretches. ¡°That was a good meal.¡± Rob rubs his stomach. ¡°Mmm. This thing¡¯s creaky, and not in a good way. Maybe I¡¯ll reinforce the table¡¯s legs tomorrow.¡± Reinforce? Table buzzes with excitement. Yes. Reinforce me. Make me indestructible. Upgrade me until I become the most glorious centerpiece this world has ever seen! Little does he know, they just meant adding a couple of wooden pegs to keep his legs from wobbling. [MAX HP 5->6]
Name Table
Race Animated Furniture (Table)
Class None
Level 1
EXP 2/10
HP 6/6
MP 0
STR 1
END 2
AGI 14
PER 1
Skills None
Chapter 3: I love buttocks against my face The rooster crows, a little too late to its job. The wooden walls of the house creak as they expand with the growing heat of the dawning sun. A spoon hung in the kitchen clinks against the side of a bowl as Rob brings out the big pot, shouting with a stiff and practical voice, ¡°Food¡¯s done. Carrot stew!¡± The house is filled with the disgusting aroma of boiled vegetables, mingled with the faint traces of whatever herbs they¡¯ve managed to gather. Warm, but the kind of warm one gets from sitting on a chair that another person just vacated their buttocks from. ¡°No eggplants?¡± Lena asks in a slightly muffled voice. She¡¯s still buried under a blanket or slumped half-asleep against a chair. ¡°Price went up by one shilling, so no.¡± Rob¡¯s response is flat. The old man has already gone out even before the sun was up, with no indication as to where he went. Makes sense. Everyone else was still fast asleep, and he wouldn¡¯t announce his daily itinerary to a table. Table is eager for his stats to rise again. He braces himself as breakfast is served, ready to soak up some more precious END gains. He waits. And waits. The couple finishes their breakfast and puts away the cutleries. Nothing happens. Why? Isn¡¯t this par-for-the-course training? Lunch comes. Dinner follows. Not a single notification appears. The grind has stopped. He¡¯s plateaued. He¡¯s become TOO STRONG. This is worse than being weak! If he doesn¡¯t grow, how will he ever evolve? How will he achieve his dream of becoming the Ultimate Table? Days pass. Lena drops a heavy pot on him¡ªnothing. Rob accidentally slams his mug down¡ªno gains. Teddy walks over him, tail flicking in indifference¡ªno scratches, no progress. Table is in hell, and he can¡¯t walk away from any of this. But then one day, salvation arrives. Lena and Rob enter the room, talking in hushed voices. ¡°Old man¡¯s out of town,¡± says Rob. ¡°He would never approve of this if he¡¯s here,¡± Lena¡¯s voice is even quieter. Their gazes meet. There¡¯s a pause. Lena glances toward the door, hands clutching the religious necklace she¡¯s wearing, making sure no divine punishment is about to strike them down. Rob, on the other hand, reaches for the nearest candle and blows it out. Lena clasps her hands together. ¡°We should at least put down some cloth.¡± Rob sighs. ¡°We don¡¯t have a piece of cloth big enough.¡± ¡°What about the bedsheet?¡± Rob looks at her weirdly. ¡°Do you want to explain to the old man why the bedsheet smells like stew?¡± Lena chews her lip. ¡°¡­We sit directly, then.¡± What the hell are they going to do? Table thinks. Summon a demon? Table¡¯s mind spirals into madness. They¡¯re going to summon a demon. That¡¯s the only explanation. Why else would they blow out the candle? Why else would they speak in hushed voices like two conspirators about to commit unspeakable horrors?The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Would that give him stats? If the demon appears and scratches him, that could be a solid STR boost. Or if the summoning circle requires heavy objects to be placed on him, he might get another endurance gain. Maybe if they start chanting, he¡¯ll absorb some arcane energy and unlock a hidden Magic Resistance stat¡ªhe doesn¡¯t have one yet, but there¡¯s always a first time. Oh, what if they sacrifice something? Could he absorb life essence? That¡¯s got to be a thing, right? A dark ritual gone wrong, and suddenly, BAM¡ªTable of the Abyss. Wait. No. That¡¯s stupid. Maybe they¡¯re plotting murder? If someone gets stabbed on him, would that count as impact resistance? Would blood stains make him a cursed item and unlock hidden abilities? Table of the Dying Man Coughing His Blood Out on Its Face. His mind races through possibility after possibility, each more ridiculous than the last. Then Rob just¡­ sits. Lena follows. They rub their buttocks on Table. And they start kissing. At first, it¡¯s just a shift. A slight scoot. Nothing dramatic. But then¡ªoh no. Oh no no no. They settle in, wiggling ever so slightly to get comfortable, pressing their full weight down onto his surface. The friction of her butt against his face. The warmth. The sheer, horrific intimacy of it all. Lena adjusts herself, and scrape¡ªher skirt bunches, and Table feels it. Rob leans in, his trousers sliding ever so slightly, and the fabric rasps against Table¡¯s pristine wooden grain. It¡¯s a slow torment. They rub. They squirm. They veer. Back and forth. Side to side. A casual, unconscious grinding of posteriors against his very being. Table wants to scream. [New Weight Detected. Endurance Training Resumed.] Oh. OH. NEVERMIND. HE LOVES GETTING BUTTOCKS GROUND AGAINST HIS FACE. Lena presses more weight onto Rob. Rob¡¯s hand braces against his surface. The couple grows more enthusiastic. [+1 END] YES. [+1 END] YESSSS. Table has never felt more alive. The rest of what happens should be best left unspoken, but the stats change is forever etched into his memory. [+1 END] ¨C His body has been tempered in the fires of passion. [+1 STR] ¨C The weight. The pressure. The sheer force. He is a big boy now. [+3 PER] ¨C Wait. PER? What the hell is PER? As the couple returns to their room, Table thinks long and hard about what PER can represent. Perseverance? Perturbation? Perishability? Then, slowly, horrifyingly, understanding dawns upon him. Perception. Oh no. OH NO. He has seen things. Things that can never be unseen. Things that have seared themselves into the very grain of his existence. The way Lena¡¯s hair fell over her shoulder. The hitch in Rob¡¯s breath. The look in their eyes. He is forever changed. But at least he got stats out of it. Now that Table has gained enough stats, something shifts within him. It¡¯s subtle at first¡ªlike a tiny ripple in a still pond. A strange, foreign sensation runs through his wooden frame. Like a scratch from the paw of a cat. Wait. He focuses. His legs¡ªnormally stiff and lifeless¡ªfeel just a little¡­ less rigid. Not enough to move, but enough to twitch. Oh! He wills himself to move again. One leg nudges¡ªbarely, imperceptibly, but it happens. He is evolving. He will no longer be just a table. He will be a humping table.
Name Table
Race Animated Furniture (Table)
Class None
Level 1
EXP 5/10
HP 6/6
MP 0
STR 2
END 5
AGI 14
PER 4
Skills None
Chapter 4: It has 160 Max HP? And I have 6?! ¡°Lena, dear! There¡¯s another scratch on the table.¡± The old man¡¯s voice carries through the small, cluttered workshop, bouncing off the walls lined with half-finished furniture and the scent of sawdust. He stands near the workbench, squinting at Table with a mix of dismay and resignation, running a weathered hand over the fresh scratch marring its surface. Outside, just past the open door, Lena kneels by her tiny herb garden¡ªa modest collection of potted basil, rosemary, and a few struggling mint plants, humming to herself. Rob, still dressed in his work clothes¡ªsturdy canvas pants and a long-sleeved shirt rolled to his elbows¡ªpauses mid-step. His boots track in dirt from the lumberyard, and his shirt is already stained with dust, sweat, and something that suspiciously resembles tree sap. He frowns, dragging a hand down his face before trudging over. Rob leans in, inspecting the damage. His expression darkens. ¡°That blasted cat.¡± The words barely leave the Rob¡¯s mouth before the true culprit strikes again. Tabby, the absolute gremlin of a cat, launches himself off Table¡¯s surface¡ªright in front of Rob¡¯s eyes¡ªusing him as a springboard with a full-force kick of his back paws. The impact rattles Table¡¯s entire frame, and in that moment, he swears he feels his soul leave his wooden body. Rob reacts immediately. ¡°Oi! Get back here, you little¡ª¡± He lunges. The old man follows. Tabby, of course, is already five steps ahead, zipping around the room. Rob nearly trips over a stool. The old man fumbles mid-grab, pushing Rob as he has just balanced himself. Rob¡¯s foot swings directly into Table¡¯s newly reinforced leg. Thud. ¡°AGH¡ª!¡± Rob stumbles back, grabbing his foot. ¡°Bloody¡ªwhy is this thing so solid? Who did this?¡± Then he shuts up as he remembers he¡¯s the one who did it. Table, meanwhile, screams internally. [HP: 6 ¡ú 5] One HP. Gone. For nothing. It would take him four whole hours to recover, based on previous experience. Four hours of pure suffering, knowing that his only enemy, his greatest nemesis, would not be punished. Tabby skids to a stop, tail flicking, and dares¡ªdares¡ªto sit just out of reach, licking his paw in mocking satisfaction. Tabby has been the bane of his existence. The feline menace has scratched him, sneezed on him, slept on him like he was some second-rate mattress, and worst of all¡ªcompletely ignored him. All for zero stat gain. Of course, even the most maniac creatures in the realm need rest. Tabby is now curled up on his surface, tail twitching as he dozes off, blissfully unaware of the vengeance brewing beneath him. This cat is gonna get it. For all the sufferings he¡¯s brought me. With all his might, Table attempts to move his surface¡ªjust a tiny shake, a nudge, a whisper of motion. Nothing happens. Tabby snores. Table grits his metaphorical teeth. Again.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. He concentrates, summoning all the raw power his newly gained stats allow. This time, he swears he feels something¡ªa minute vibration, a microscopic shift¡ª Tabby stretches, adjusts slightly¡­ and keeps sleeping. What? HELLO? EXCUSE ME? CAN YOU NOT FEEL THE FORCES OF THE UNIVERSE TREMBLING BENEATH YOU? Table tries one last time, putting every fiber of his wooden being into motion. A single, imperceptible tremor. Tabby flicks his ear. Scratches his nose. Keeps. Sleeping. Table internally howls. What was the point of all that training if he can''t even disturb a cat? No. No, he refuses to accept this failure. He will train harder. This is just one small pebble on his quest to become the best piece of furniture in all the lands. But then¡ª Ding. A faint, almost imperceptible noise echoes in the void of his mind. It carries the same weight as an ancient tome being opened for the first time, as if reality itself has decided to grant him a gift. NEW SKILL UNLOCKED: APPRAISE Before he can even process what that means, his vision¡ªor whatever approximation of sight a table can possess¡ªflickers. A translucent panel materializes before him, hovering just above his surface. ©³©¥©¥©¥©¥©¥©¥©¥©¥©¥©¥©¥©¥©¥©¥©¥©·
Target name Tabby
Species Domestic Menace
HP 158/160
STR ???
AGI ???
DEX ???
INT ???
END ???
PER ???
Passive Skills Nine Lives, One Attitude ¨C Minor injuries regenerate over time. Feline Grace ¨C Cannot be caught. Ever. Owner¡¯s (Specifically Lena) Favorite ¨C Gains invulnerability when being watched by humans.
Table stares. Tabby, curled up smugly on his surface, lets out a soft, contented sigh in his sleep. His tail twitches. His fur is pristine, unbothered, untouchable. How the hell does this tiny creature have stats I don¡¯t have? And it has 160 Max HP? And I have 6?! Wait a minute. What happened to the missing 2 HP? A slow, dawning realization creeps over Table. Did he? Had his minuscule vibrations actually done something? It wasn¡¯t much. Not even noticeable to the naked eye. But it was there. A microscopic dent in the feline¡¯s overwhelming power. A thrill courses through him. He can hurt the cat. Oh, Tabby. You are no longer invincible.
Name Table
Race Animated Furniture (Table)
Class None
Level 1
EXP 5/10
HP 5/6
MP 0
STR 2
END 5
AGI 14
PER 4
Skills Appraisal
Chapter 5: Did I tell you I got a pet termite? His name is Clint. Clint Eatswood Exactly a week after Table¡¯s arrival, the first guest arrived at Rob¡¯s shabby residence. Table silently hoped it was the same merchant who¡¯d brought him over and that merchant would take him away, but no such luck. The shadow darkening Rob¡¯s doorway was someone he¡¯d never seen before. It was a rotund man, clad in a fur-lined vest that barely contained his girth, with a twirled mustache so meticulously curled it seemed as though he¡¯d spent two hours trimming it before leaving home. Surely the face of someone who loves the look of himself in the mirror. ¡°Rob, old boy,¡± the man drawled, dragging out the syllables. ¡°I see you¡¯re still making do with¡­ well, humble husbandry.¡± Rob was out on the farm when the stranger opened the door by himself. He immediately scampered back inside as he heard the voice. His shoulder tensed as he saw the figure. ¡°Master Bimbleton,¡± he said with a curt nod, wiping his hand on his shirt. ¡°What brings you all the way over to our humble abode?¡± Bimbleton chuckled smugly. ¡°Oh, I was passing through on business¡ªexpanding my diary ventures and all that¡ªand thought, why not check on my dear cousin Robbie?¡± He dusted off his vest. ¡°The air in here sure affects the fineries. You best keep your best clothing inside your closet. Make sure they do not get torn.¡± He plopped down on the chair. ¡°How¡¯s the wife? Luna?¡± ¡°Lena. And she¡¯s fine.¡± Rob dug his fingers into the underside of Table. Ouch! Ouch! Whatever disgruntlement you have with that pompous bastard, don¡¯t pull me into it. I only have 6 HP! ¡°Yeah, she is fine. I do wish to get to gaze upon her more frequently¡ªsuch a rare delight, after all. If she is in the back, do me a favor and call her out, Robbie.¡± Lena was indeed in the back garden as per usual, either tending to the herbs again or dozing off in a corner so her father wouldn¡¯t see her slacking off. Rob, don¡¯t, Table screamed. You¡¯re technically my owner. I don¡¯t have an owner who¡¯s a harlot-buttock pushover. Rob exhaled slowly through his nose, then shook his head. ¡°She is not here,¡± he said evenly. ¡°Lena is at the market selling herbs.¡± ¡°Well, that will have to do,¡± he said, disappointment dripping from his voice. ¡°A shame, really. I¡¯d have loved to show you two what proper furniture looks like. You know, I have just secured myself a grand purchase.¡± He turned, his eyes landing on Table. His smirk returned, but then his brows furrowed. He leaned in, squinting at Table¡¯s surface. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± Rob blinked. ¡°What¡¯s what?¡± Bimbleton ran a gloved hand over the wood. ¡°There are scratches here, but¡­ they¡¯re faint. But the rest of the table looks new. Did you perhaps refurbished an old featherwood table? Must be rough in this neighborhood lately.¡± His eyes darted to Table, and sure enough, the scratch marks left by that damned cat just days ago were almost completely faded. But that didn¡¯t make sense. Wood didn¡¯t just heal itself. Thimbleton clicked his tongue. ¡°Tsk. Poor craftsmanship, I suppose. Cheap wood does tend to warp over time.¡± If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Rob didn¡¯t answer. He was too busy keeping his face neutral. But Table? Oh. Ohhh. Ohhhhhhhhhhhh. The scratches have been there before, but now they aren¡¯t. I regenerate! HP restoration wasn¡¯t just a number. His body repaired itself over time. ¡°My table, on the other hand¡­¡± Bimbleton ran his glove along Table¡¯s surface, let out a long, suffering sigh, then pulled out a silk handkerchief that¡¯d been made purple silk, purchased fresh from the bazaar, and dusted his fingers off. ¡°Ah, but I wouldn¡¯t want to make you envious.¡± ¡°They¡¯re just tables,¡± replied Rob as he placed his hand to cover his cough again. Rob had been coughing ever since Table arrived, but today was somehow worse than other days. He could not go ten seconds without another bout of croaking and wheezing. ¡°I suppose they are. But the one I just purchased is made of Elviswood, so that particular piece is not just furniture.¡± Rob interlocked his fingers and crossed one leg over his thigh. ¡°Did I tell you I got a pet termite? His name is Clint. Clint Eatswood. I tried giving him a minuscule piece of Elviswood, but he could not, for his life, chew through it.¡± Rob bit his lower lip. ¡°It sure is a luxurious item.¡± ¡°Ah, Robbie. Always thinking in coin. If only you knew the value of refinement.¡± Bimbleton stood and clasped a meaty hand on Rob¡¯s shoulder, his grin wide and wolfish. ¡°Tell you what. Why don¡¯t you come by my estate for supper? I¡¯ll have my servants prepare the finest fish you¡¯ve ever tasted.¡± He chuckled. ¡°Perhaps if you see how a real household dines, you¡¯ll finally understand what you¡¯re missing. Please do bring Lena along.¡± No. Rob. Don¡¯t accept. Don¡¯t humiliate yourself. Ding. A sudden notification popped up in front of Table. NEW QUEST UNLOCKED: Prove Your Worth! Objective: Arrive at the Bimbleton estate and defeat the Elviswood table in a trial of Endurance and Agility. His eyes widened when he looked at the reward. REWARD: +5 END, +5 AGI, +12 EXP ACCEPT: Yes/No He immediately willed himself to press Yes. Oh, Rob. Please do accept his invitation. Bring your wife along. Heck, bring me along! You people always bring along a table to a banquet, do you not? Who cares about Rob¡¯s dignity when you have 12 EXP? ¡°I¡¯m afraid we might not be too familiar with dining on such an expensive table,¡± Rob waved his hand in refusal. Bimbleton¡¯s lips curved into a lopsided smirk. ¡°I shall call over my carriage, and we shall bring your table along, if that brings you more comfort.¡± Ohhh. Oh yes. It was like the entire universe colluded to realize this quest for Table. Rob¡¯s shoulders slumped. ¡°Very well, Master Bimbleton. I suppose we don¡¯t have a choice.¡± Another notification appeared in front of Table: QUEST: PROVE YOUR WORTH¡ªACCEPTED
Name Table
Race Animated Furniture (Table)
Class None
Level 1
EXP 5/10
HP 5/6
MP 0
STR 2
END 5
AGI 14
PER 4
Skills Appraisal
Chapter 6: I propose a Table Duel, or I shall take your wife A few hours later, Table found himself being carefully loaded onto the grandest horse-drawn carriage he¡¯d ever had the misfortune (or perhaps, the fortune) to ride in. Not that he¡¯d ridden in many. This would be the second one. Unlike the rough, jostling journey that had first brought him to Rob¡¯s residence, this one was smooth, almost luxurious. He was placed on soft pillows that sunk as he placed his weight over them. The carriage hadn¡¯t yet rattled once during the trip, and the wheels had been gliding over the road as though the ground itself had been polished for its passage. More importantly, for the first time since his reincarnation in this world, he had space. There wasn¡¯t any sack of grain wedged against his side, nor were there any wobbly crates threatening to tip over him, nor any musty burlap brushing against his legs. Alas! This is the life I was supposed to have! Rob and Lena rode on a separate carriage, but both of them stopped in front of the Bimbleton estate at the same time. He heard the soft, slightly scared whispers of Lena from the other carriage. ¡°Do we really have to come in, darling? He always finds an excuse to bring me up whenever he visits.¡± In all fairness, Table could understand why the Master had his eyes on Lena. She wasn¡¯t striking in the way noblewomen draped in jewels and silk often were, but her doll-like appearance¡ªsmall nose and lips so subtly curved they always seemed on the verge of a hesitant smile, made her seem vulnerable. It didn¡¯t help that she had a way of lowering her gaze when spoken to. Some men loved that. Not that it was particularly a problem for Table, but he might have grown sentimental over the one week staying at their lopsided home. Rob had been taking care of him, and Lena had never been anywhere near rough cleaning him. But it was no time for sentiment! If Table were to become the best piece of furniture there ever was, these commoners would soon become nothing but distant memories to him. ¡°You know he¡¯d make our lives difficult if we didn¡¯t comply, Lena. We endure one evening, get it over with, and maybe he¡¯ll leave us alone for a while.¡± Then a pause, and Rob lowered his voice to a deep baritone. ¡°I will not let anything happen to you. You hear?¡± ¡°I love you dear.¡± He coughed after finishing his sentence. ¡°I love you.¡± Then came the sound of a soft kiss. So sweet, Table thought. Now get in so I can collect my EXP. The Bimbleton¡¯s imposing iron gates opened theatrically slowly as two servants unloaded Table. The carved reliefs of valiant knights and graceful noblewomen on the manor¡¯s stone walls roadway were accentuated by the warm glow of the evening lights. Another notification popped up. NEW SIDE QUEST UNLOCKED: A Keen Eye! (1) Objective: Use your Perception to notice inconsistencies in the Bimbleton estate¡¯s presentation. REWARD: +1 PER He accepted the quest without hesitation. Any point gained is better than no point at all. Table proceeded to immediately lose 1 HP. His vision blurred. What the heck? Why would you reduce my vision before a perception-based quest? What kind of rigged mechanics is this? Symtemmmmm! His vision wavered for a few agonizing seconds, and he had to concentrate harder to make out details. A system notification popped up. CONGRATULATIONS! STATUS EFFECT GAINED: Minor Eye Strain (-1 Perception for 30 seconds) Congrat¡ªfor harlot¡¯s sake! This system must be having lots of fun messing with me; I¡¯m sure of it. As Table was carried forward, he focused his Perception on the details beyond the surface. The servants carrying him moved in an odd rhythm, raising him up and down with every step as if they were marching to a silent tune. Every time he thought he had locked onto a detail, his vision bounced, forcing him to refocus. Table was infuriated, but tried to concentrate nonetheless. He looked at the road. Nothing off about it. He turned to the horses inside a stable from afar. Nothing off. He turned to Lena. Slightly pale but nothing off. The grand double doors of the Bimbleton estate swung open, and the servants carrying Table prepared to haul him inside. He hadn¡¯t yet known how quests work yet, but he was rather sure once he stepped foot inside and his vision was blocked, he would fail the quest. I must not fail! In a desperate last-second scan, his eyes darted over the hedges. He saw it. Though neatly trimmed, the hedges bore uneven patches where branches had been hastily clipped. His Perception sharpened. The servant in front pushed him upward, and he caught something else. A crack in the ceiling, sloppily painted over with a milky white instead of a marble white. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Surely the Master of the estate had rushed to spruce the place up for this specific occasion. DING! QUEST COMPLETE: A Keen Eye! (1) +1 PERCEPTION GAINED Table was so proud of himself. He must¡¯ve been a detective in his past life. An extravagant feast greeted Table as he got inside a golden dining hall with chandeliers hanging above. The fish that Master Bimbleton had promised was the centerpiece, but it was accompanied by platters of roasted meats, steaming soups, and freshly baked bread along the long dining table. Looks like Oak. Or maybe Elviswood looks like Oak. This was no supper. It was an entire banquet. Meanwhile, in the very center of the grand hall, elevated on a slightly raised platform, stood the true star of the evening. The Elviswood table. Its surface gleamed with a deep, natural luster as it absorbed the light from the chandeliers. From a glance alone, Table could tell that that table alone would be worth at least a hundred of him. A system notification popped up against his will. STATUS WINDOW: ELVISWOOD TABLE
Name The Grand Elviswood Table of Bimbleton
Race Rare Artifact (Furniture)
HP 15,240
STR 4,050
AGI 7
??? ???
??? ???
??? ???
??? ???
Skills [???] [???] [Regal Presence (Epic Passive)]
Table stared at the HP and STR, numbers so grand he could not begin to imagine. What was he supposed to do against that? He was barely a week old in this world! This would be what it felt like when you loaded up a new game and immediately ran into a max-level raid boss in the tutorial area. But then his eyes locked onto AGI: 7. His own AGI was 14, without any passive level-up. He was faster. It would make sense¡ªwho would buff up its table¡¯s AGI stat? Okay, so I have something to base around. But he didn¡¯t know the details of whatever he constituted a show of worth, and he hadn¡¯t yet found a way to interact with the system to find out the specifics. The servants led Rob and Lena further into the dining hall, and the couple¡¯s eyes widened at the sheer grandeur surrounding them. Rob even had to run a hand along the embroidered tablecloth as if to confirm it was real. Lena grabbed her husband¡¯s sleeves. Master Bimbleton, dressed in the finest silks, sauntered forward with a smug. ¡°Ah, my dear guests! I trust the meal is to your liking? But of course, we did not gather for mere supper.¡± His eyes twinkled as he gestured toward the Elviswood Table. ¡°We all know why we brought you and your tables here.¡± Silence ensued. Nobody said a word until Bimbleton spoke again. ¡°A Table Duel, as per tradition. What do you say?¡± What the hell is a Table Duel? And it is AS PER TRADITION? Meaning they¡¯ve done this many times before? This world is insane. At least Table knew that his kind had some sort of importance within this realm. Bimbleton¡¯s voice was poised with amusement. ¡°If your humble table can best mine in a proper duel, I shall reward you handsomely. Five¡­ no, ten! Ten silver coins and five hundred copper coins!¡± Table had no clue what the economy was like, but from the way Rob stiffened, that must¡¯ve been a fortune. Enough for them to upgrade to a cobblestone table and threw him to the dogs. ¡°But,¡± Bimbleton added, his voice lowering with each word, ¡°should you lose¡­ then your lovely wife shall remain here, cousin. For one night.¡± Rob blanched. ¡°Ridi¡ªcough¡ªculous!¡± ¡°No, love,¡± Lena put a hand on his chest. ¡°That is a ridiculous amount of money. We can¡¯t refuse.¡± Rob turned to her in horror. ¡°Lena, you... do you even know what you¡¯re saying?¡± ¡°Love. You have lung fever. I¡ªWe don¡¯t have the money for a good doctor,¡± she said. Bimbleton did not flinch at the mention of the disease. Maybe people in this world didn¡¯t know lung diseases were infectious, or these conditions were somehow not transmittable in their realm. And you¡¯re settling a life-and-death matter over a pair of TABLES? Hello? ¡°Bimbleton is a man of pride. He will honor his word,¡± Lena took a step closer to Rob. Bimbleton chuckled. ¡°But of course. I am nothing if not a man of my word.¡± Rob still looked ready to argue, but she put a finger over his lips, whispering, ¡°Don¡¯t worry, darling. If it¡¯s Table Duel¡­ I have just a way we could win.¡±
Name Table
Race Animated Furniture (Table)
Class None
Level 1
EXP 5/10
HP 5/6
MP 0
STR 2
END 5
AGI 14
PER 5 (+1)
Skills Appraisal
Chapter 7: NEW SIDEQUEST: Observe the Chicken Bimbleton clapped his hands. A butler stepped forward carrying a small wooden box decorated with silver carvings. He opened it, revealing three neatly folded parchment slips inside. ¡°The game shall be determined by the Luck of the Draw,¡± Bimbleton announced. ¡°The rules are simple. Each slip contains the name of one of our three Table Duel challenges. Whatever is drawn shall be the battle that decides your fate.¡± The butler presented a parchment atop the box to Bimbleton. With a flourish, the nobleman reached in and retrieved it. He unfolded it and read aloud. ¡°First, the wagon drag duel. Each table is strapped to a moving wagon. The first table to detach itself or break loses. Second, the balancing duel. Objects will be stacked on each table. The table that holds the most without toppling wins. Third, the spinning game. The tables will be spun. The last one still turning wins. To ensure fairness, since you have two contestants, Master Bimbleton and a trusted servant would join forces for the duel.¡± ¡°Who would that servant be?¡± Rob asked. Bimbleton straightened, puffing out his chest as he gestured toward the side of the hall. ¡°Levin! Behold, the grand champion of Table Duels!¡± A figure stepped through with movements almost similar to marching. It took him less than five seconds to reach Master Bimbleton and stood to the left of him. Rob looked surprised, and so did Table. He thought for sure the Master would¡¯ve picked his partner after the draw to select an individual with a matching skillset and maximize his chance of winning. Lena and Rob interlocked their hands as the butler closed the box and shook the contents. It was the perfect time for Table to use his quick thinking and heightened perception to whip up grand strategies. The cartwheel drag would be the most difficult for them, as the commoners definitely wouldn¡¯t have nearly as much experience maneuvering on a wagon as Bimbleton¡¯s servant. As for the balancing duel¡ª ¡°And we have decided on our game!¡± Master Bimbleton announced. What? Table wheezed. I haven¡¯t finished strategizing! Maybe his quick thinking wasn¡¯t as quick as he¡¯d thought. The outcome landed on the Cartwheel Drag Duel. Before Table was even able to process the result, he caught the expression on Bimbleton¡¯s face: a gloating smirk, so smug it made Table¡¯s nonexistent stomach churn. ¡°What a coincidence!¡± Bimbleton declared, his tone dripping with mock surprise. ¡°Why, Levin has spent twelve years riding wagons across the Land of Isla! A true master of balance and speed. What serendipity!¡± Rob¡¯s face paled. Lena stiffened beside him. Table was no fool. This wasn¡¯t luck. Bimbleton had rigged the draw. Mustache bastards always rig draws. That was why he¡¯d picked his partner beforehand, why he¡¯d acted like a butthole from the start. He¡¯d already known which game they¡¯d be playing! Now, they were stuck in the worst possible match-up. Lena let out a slow breath, squeezing Rob¡¯s hand. ¡°Darling,¡± she murmured. ¡°We can still win this.¡± Rob replied, ¡°I¡¯ll break you out tonight, don¡¯t you worry.¡± ¡°I¡¯m serious, Robert. Listen to my plan.¡± Rob frowned. ¡°What plan? They have Levin.¡± He stressed the name. Lena¡¯s eyes gleamed. ¡°Yes, but we have something they don¡¯t.¡± Table perked up. My stunning intellect? Lena ignored him. ¡°Commoner tricks.¡± Rob hesitated. ¡°¡­ Commoner tricks?¡± ¡°Yes! You think Bimbleton or Levin have ever had to hitch a cart with half-broken wheels? You think they¡¯ve ever had to hold something together with rope, spit, and sheer will? They know how to ride a wagon, but we know how to work a wagon.¡± Rob put a hand over his forehead. ¡°Who would¡¯ve thought you being a mischievous little gal would become useful later on in life.¡± Bimbleton tapped on his wrist even though he didn¡¯t wear a watch. ¡°Tick, tock. Time¡¯s ticking. Let me ask my servants to lead you to the wagon¡ª¡± ¡°Oh, but Master Bimbleton!¡± Lena gasped, eyes widening with practiced innocence. ¡°Surely you wouldn¡¯t let us compete on an empty stomach?¡± Bimbleton squinted his eyes. ¡°¡­What?¡± ¡°I mean,¡± she continued. ¡°Look at us! We¡¯ve had a long journey. You, in your infinite generosity, prepared such a grand feast for us, yet now you expect us to engage in such a demanding challenge without first partaking? That wouldn¡¯t be very hospitable, would it?¡± Since when did she learn to talk like that? Table hissed. Sure, Lena had a quirky way with words, and had always gotten out of trouble by simply sweet-talking her husband, but she¡¯d never used such language before. Stolen story; please report. Bimbleton scoffed. ¡°Eating before a duel? That¡¯s absurd.¡± ¡°But it¡¯s not a duel, is it?¡± Lena gave him a sweet, calm smile. ¡°It¡¯s a game. A friendly competition! And in polite society, one does not challenge guests before they¡¯ve had a chance to eat. Why, even gladiators of old were given a feast before battle! But surely a sophisticated nobleman such as yourself would know more than us lowly commoners. Do you, good Master?¡± Bimbleton bristled immediately. ¡°Hah! Fine. We shall feast first. But then,¡± he sneered, ¡°you will race.¡± ¡°Why, of course.¡± Lena beamed. ¡°Now, where shall we sit?¡± Damn, Table thought. This woman knows how to TALK. If only he could see her stat table. ¡°Right this way.¡± As Bimbleton stormed toward the head of the table, barking orders for the meal to be served, Lena subtly squeezed Rob¡¯s hand. Rob swallowed. ¡°Lena.¡± ¡°Shh.¡± She smiled. ¡°You know what to do.¡± *** They had spent the last hour sneaking out to ¡°visit the toilet,¡± taking turns so one of them was always outside scouting the wagons. It was ridiculous even to Table for someone to need to take a dump three times within an hour, and that would¡¯ve been obvious to someone like Bimbleton. Despite being played right in front of his nose, Bimbleton still kept his smug. That smug remained as he led them out to the courtyard where the wagons awaited. The towering nobleman gestured with dramatic flair. ¡°Since you insisted on delaying the inevitable, I¡¯ve taken the liberty of choosing your wagon myself,¡± he declared. ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡± There it was. His trump card. He grinned at Lena, an ever-confident, ever-annoying grin, as he chose the wagon for himself and for the couple. Only when he turned his back on her did she reveal her own grin. She was still one step ahead of him. Every wagon had been tampered with. They all had greased axles. Rob had made sure to loosen the reins just slightly, while Lena had left tiny notches carved into the left wheel¡¯s hub. Surely Bimbleton must¡¯ve tried to prevent this with guards! And he did. If only the guard wasn¡¯t Jem, Lena¡¯s old friend from the market. She had noticed him the moment they entered the estate. The same lanky guy who used to haggle for free samples at her family¡¯s stall, now wearing a stiff uniform and standing at attention. He¡¯d never been good at looking intimidating. She could tell he was bored out of his mind even from across the hall. She¡¯d nodded at him and reminded him of the time she covered for him when he tried to smuggle a bottle of cider past a merchant¡¯s wife. That was all it took. The wagons were wheeled onto a stretch of dirt road just beyond the estate grounds. It was long enough for a straight shot but secluded enough that no passing travelers would interrupt the duel. The packed earth bore the marks of old wagon trails, but no fresh ones. The butler announced from the foot of a nearby hill.. ¡°The rules are simple. The first table to detach itself from the wagon loses. If neither falls by the end of the path, the wagons must make a full turn and race back. If at any point a wagon falls behind by more than ten wagon lengths, it will be considered out of the race.¡± A smart rule. Probably meant to prevent them from crawling along at a snail¡¯s pace just to keep the table balanced. The servants finished securing the tables. Lena and Rob¡¯s wagon was strapped with thick rope, while Bimbleton¡¯s was secured with finely woven silken straps that looked extravagant but, in all honesty, weren¡¯t much sturdier than theirs. Levin took his place at the front of Bimbleton¡¯s wagon, adjusting the reins with sweeping precision. Rob climbed onto theirs, flexing his fingers. Lena reached out, brushing her fingers along Table¡¯s polished surface. A small, almost imperceptible nod. Table entered full concentration mode. He studied the road ahead, noting every bump, dip, and uneven patch of dirt. If he could just tilt himself at the right moments, just slightly, he could maintain his balance better. If he could just do that¡­ I can do it. The wagons launched themselves forward. Table braced himself. This is it. This is my time. And then¡­ A single, scrawny chicken flapped onto the road, directly in his line of sight. Table¡¯s entire vision was suddenly consumed by an irrelevant, feathery sidequest. [NEW SIDEQUEST: Observe the Chicken] REWARD: 1 EXP WHAT IS THIS? IT¡¯S BLOCKING MY VISION. I CAN¡¯T SEE! Immediately, he clicked no. [NEW SIDEQUEST: Name the Chicken] REWARD: 2 EXP NO. [NEW SIDEQUEST: Grease the Chicken] REWARD: 2 EXP NO. WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN? The wagon hit the first bump. Table slammed into the wood, then onto the chicken. The space surrounding him spun. All he could see was chicken. Then¡ªPECK. [-1 HP] The chicken, offended beyond reason, flapped its wings in outrage and shot off the wagon like a feathery projectile, squawking in betrayal. More notifications blocked his view. CONGRATULATIONS! [SIDEQUEST: Observe the Chicken] FAILED. CONGRATULATIONS! [SIDEQUEST: Name the Chicken] FAILED. CONGRATULATIONS! [SIDEQUEST: Grease the Chicken] FAILED. Get the hell away! I need to contribute to this race! He immediately hit a rough patch of land and was propelled to the sky. In fact, Rob and Lena did need his help right now. Because they were struggling.
Name Table
Race Animated Furniture (Table)
Class None
Level 1
EXP 5/10
HP 4/6
MP 0
STR 2
END 5
AGI 14
PER 5 (+1)
Skills Appraisal
Chapter 8: AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! For a horrifying second, all he saw was white. He thought the rope anchoring him to the wagon would snap, sending him flying into the stratosphere. But no. His agility kept him light as air. The rope didn¡¯t break. I¡¯m alive? I¡¯m alive! Then gravity hit. He slammed into the ground. [-2 HP] He groaned as vision returned to him. Rob was directly in front of him, hands on the horse bridle, while Lena was leaning to the side to provide balance. Their wagon was rocking, swaying, falling apart. Levin and Bimbleton were, too, their fancy vehicle slipping, the greased parts turning it into a death trap that was close to spiralling any second. Still, they were neck and neck. Bimbleton made his move. With a flick of his hand, he did something. His wagon jerked to the side. It was impossible to stabilize himself. Ahead, Elviswood hit a huge bump. But it stayed grounded. It didn¡¯t even jump one bit. Not a single scratch. What the hell is this sturdiness¡­ Table was also heading straight for a massive bump of his own. He had 2 HP left. I¡¯m done for. At the last second¡ª A twitch. Just the smallest movement. A shift in his weight occurred, and the angle changed just enough. He didn¡¯t know if he had done anything on purpose. He just shifted. [MASSIVE LEAP UNDER DURESS] [+4 AGI] Instead of collapsing, the bump propelled him slightly upward. He landed unscathed. Strands of the road started to frey, but it was still holding. For now. Bimbleton growled into Levin¡¯s ear. ¡°Pick up the speed!¡± His bellow was blown away by the whooshing sounds of the wind. ¡°Sir, but we¡ª¡± ¡°Pick up the damn speed! Lose them!¡± As the wagon jolted forward, Bimbleton grabbed whatever loose objects he could find in the cargo and started hurling them at Rob and Lena¡¯s wagon, aiming for the wheels. A silver goblet spun through the air. Missed. A wooden plate whizzed past. Missed. Bimbleton reached for another object without looking. Levin grimaced. ¡°Sir, I don¡¯t think¡ª¡± An bat landed on his face with a thunk, and he slumped forward, completely unconscious. Bimbleton¡¯s eyes bulged. ¡°Oh, you useless¡ª!¡± He lunged for the bridle, grabbing it in a panic. The moment his hands touched the reins, the horses veered to the left, neighing in unison. Table wasn¡¯t sure what command Bimbleton was trying to give the horses, but all he heard was. ¡°AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!¡± melded with a side of ¡°NEIGHHHHHHH!¡± The wagon careened across the road like a drunken goose, barely missing a rock as Bimbleton continued to howl. Rob then pulled something from his pocket and threw it into Bimbleton¡¯s cargo. ¡°Sorry, cousin,¡± he said. A tiny, wriggling creature landed with a soft plop onto the wooden surface. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Clint Eatswood. Bimbleton¡¯s very own prized termite. The little menace wasted no time. The moment it touched the cargo, it sunk its tiny mandibles into the wood and started chomping. ¡°Rob, you bastard. AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!¡± Table told himself, ¡°If I¡¯m gonna go, I¡¯ll make sure to not be like that guy Bimbleton.¡± He locked onto the road ahead. A jagged rock? He flexed his nonexistent abs and subtly shifted his weight, letting the impact roll under him instead of slamming into the side. A deep puddle? He adjusted the angle of his balance just in time, narrowly avoiding a splash that could¡¯ve sent him sliding off the cargo. An aggressive bump? He flinched just enough to allow the momentum to lift him. It was precision. It was instinct. It was masterclass. PECK. [-1 HP] The damn chicken was back. He now had 1 HP left. He was battered, bruised, broken. If he was a veteran, he would have received an Honorary Medal of the Highest Order by now. Luckily for him, the end of the path was in sight. The cargo hurtled forward, and the grease-coated wheels screeched in protest as they reached the turning point. ¡°Rob! Slow down!¡± Lena¡¯s voice rang sharp over the chaos. Table¡¯s mind whirred. No! If they slowed down too much, they¡¯d fall behind by at least ten wagon lengths. That would be an instant loss! Rob pulled the bridle and coerced the horses to halt. Mud and dust flung themselves in all directions as the wagon wobbled dangerously out of control. They had lagged behind. Bimbleton saw his chance. With a victorious sneer, he yanked his bridle and lunged forward. However, the termite had done its work. The link between his wheels and cargo was hanging by a thread. The moment his wagon jerked ahead, the weakened wood gave out with a sickening crack.His wheels, already compromised, struggled against the slick ground. He didn¡¯t calculate the distance correctly. ¡°Nooooooooooooooo¡ª¡± His wagon slammed straight into the fence with a snap. The fancy rope snapped. With overwhelming force, his wagon gyrated into a perfect, spiraling spin. The Elviswood table, still beautifully intact and beautifully deep in color, was launched from the cargo bed, heading straight to the sky. It soared. And soared. And soared. Nobody ever saw it again. The butler approached atop a horse that leisurely strolled closer to the wagons that had stopped. One wheel of Rob and Lena¡¯s cargo was teetering like a see-saw, the axles groaned with every slight movement. Dust and mud coated every inch, and loose splinters jutted out where the wood had scraped against the rope that secured Table. It had almost snapped. Bimbleton¡¯s cargo ceased to exist. From the wreckage, a heap of splintered wood and broken wheels, a muffled groan emerged. A hand, clad in an expensive but now tattered glove, clawed its way out of the debris. Bimbleton, his powdered wig askew and half his coat missing, dragged himself free. ¡°Did I win?¡± he asked as he spat out a mouthful of splinter and sawdust. After that, Levin wriggled out of a wooden plank broken in half. The butler announced with perfect composure, ¡°And the winners are¡­ Robert and Lena Oakward!¡± CONGRATS. [QUEST COMPLETED: Prove Your Worth!] A triumphant chime rang in Table¡¯s mind. A golden notification appeared before him. His eyes widened when he looked at the reward. REWARD: +5 END, +5 AGI, +12 EXP [LEVEL UP!] [HP FULLY RESTORED!] [+5 ATTRIBUTE POINTS] He was as good as new. The dull sting of bruises? Gone. The sharp ache from his earlier impacts? Vanished. Even the deep scratches that had scraped across his surface, the ones he was certain would leave lasting marks, had smoothed over as if they had never existed. Not sure how Rob was going to try and explain how they plowed a table across the field and it ended up looking better than before. Well, not my problem. Now, I celebrate.
Name Table
Race Animated Furniture (Table)
Class None
Level 2
EXP 7/50
HP 11/11
MP 0
STR 2
END 10 (+5)
AGI 18 (+4)
PER 11 (+5)
Skills Appraisal (Level 1) Adjustable Angle (2 Degrees)
Chapter 9: Rub your butt on me. Just one rub, I promise! "There''s something weird about this table, dear." With his armed crossed, Rob stood in the living room, staring at the wooden table they had dragged home. It should have been a mess. After everything it had been through, it should have at least a scratch, a crack, a dent. Bumps, crashes, near-total destruction, and one propulson into the air happened! But it didn¡¯t. It looked¡­ flawless. There was even some sort of sheen on its surface as sunlight cast its glow on it. The old man, Lena¡¯s father, barely looked up from his workbench. ¡°You¡¯ve been overworking yourself, son. I told you to stop staring at furniture like it¡¯s going to start talking to you.¡± He¡¯d never told him that. He then waved a dismissive hand. ¡°Go eat something before you start hallucinating. Fill that empty stomach of yours.¡± Rob sighed, running a hand down his face. Maybe he was tired, but that didn¡¯t explain why the table was completely unscathed. But Table was sure he wouldn¡¯t want to go through all the trouble explaining to the old man that they had just gone through a near-death experience. ¡°I¡¯ve told you. The table is blessed, dear.¡± Lena showed up from the kitchen holding a huge pot on her hand. She put it on the table carelessly with a plop. This pot was twice as big as the one Table had had to carry before, yet there was no stat change to him. I am now the Master of all tables, Table thought. Such trivial tasks mean nothing to me. Master Bimbleton, for all his flaws, had kept his promise. Ten silver coins and five hundred copper coins, without a single coin missing. The money they¡¯d received meant they could buy new crops and replaced all the old kitchenware in their house. There was one thing left to upgrade. ¡°We¡¯ve been given good fortune,¡± Rob said solemnly. ¡°It¡¯s only right that we honor this table properly.¡± With that, he left the house. Only now, Table had a moment of piece to check the boon of his hard work. With Lena sipping soup on his back, he opened his status table. Adjustable Angle? Only 2 degrees? The skill looked absolutely useless, but he knew better than to scoff at a skill that had saved his life in a life-or-death race. If only I have something, someone, some cat to test the skill on. Table eyed the unsuspecting feline lounging nearby. Lazy and completely oblivious to the scientific breakthrough about to occur. With the power of Adjustable Angle (2¡ã) now at his disposal, he focused all his nonexistent muscles, his very essence, into making it happen. Alright. Move. Just a little. For the first time since arriving in this world, he felt something. A shift. A tiny tilt. He moved¡ª2 degrees to the left. The cat¡¯s ears twitched. The flames of encouragement burned in his mind, and he had to try again. 2 degrees to the right. The cat stopped grooming itself. Again. Left. Right. Left. Right. A show of power I must be demonstrating! The cat¡¯s pupils dilated. It is trembling in fear! Surely it¡¯ll be on its four little feet and dart away¡ª A hand slapped on its leg. ¡°Stay still!¡± Lena grunted. ¡°I¡¯m trying to eat.¡± [-5 HP] Minus 5? Minus 5?! Lena, who spent most of her time leisurely wandering the market, eating snacks, and occasionally scheming, had the sheer brute strength to smack five hit points out of him with a single slap. How the hell is she so strong? She does nothing all day! Does she go to the market and wrestle cows or something? Not to enrage the powerful human being eating on him, he stayed put. The cat, no longer sensing the impending doom of a demonic possession, stretched lazily and curled up again. Table sighed internally, checking his other boon. [+5 ATTRIBUTE POINTS] Where to put them? He had come to the conclusion that as an inanimate object, Perception and Endurance were the most important skills. He was sick of nearly snapping in half every time something hit him, and if he couldn¡¯t move well, at least he could see the threats coming in advance so he could mentally prepare for his death. 2 for Perception and 2 for Endurance, it will be. With 1 Attribute Point left, his vision hovered over STR. It had been absolutely useless so far. He wasn¡¯t able to move! However¡­ I have to think about the long run. When I can eventually move, I surely will need to whack the butt out of some poor souls. I¡¯ll need some firepower. And with that, 1 point for STR. Another status notification showed up: Are you happy with this distribution? He selected Yes. Then, there was this skill Appraise. It was supposed to be an Active skill, but right now, it was as Passive as it could possibly get. Status screens of his opponents had whimsically showed up without warning, and when he tried to channel his inner power and forced some information out of Lena, nothing showed up. Nothing! Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. This skill is useless if I can¡¯t use it! But Table was foolishly determined if anything. He had to make it work. He concentrated every fiber of his being, and willed Lena¡¯s status screen to appear. Nothing. He focused harder. Nothing. He leaned 2 degrees. Nothing. He screamed internally. Still nothing. Desperate, he tried every method he could think of¡ªmentally chanting Appraise over and over again, imagining an invisible force shooting from his wooden frame, even attempting to wiggle slightly in hopes that movement would activate it. Nothing. Table was about to abandon hope when¡ª Lena finished her meal with a satisfied sigh, brushing the last few crumbs off her lap. ¡°I love cabbage,¡± she muttered to herself, pushing back her chair. Table barely paid attention, as he was still fuming over his completely dysfunctional Appraise skill. Then, it happened. As Lena turned to gather the dishes, her butt bumped into his edge. Ding! A status screen instantly materialized before him.
Name Lena Oakward
Race Animated Human (Human)
Class Unsuspecting Mage
Level ???
HP ???
MP ???
STR 97
END ???
AGI ???
PER ???
Skills
  • Small Talk Mastery (???)
  • Persuasive Bargaining (???)
  • Household Diplomacy (???)
  • Sorting Shiny Pebbles (MAX LEVEL)
  • ???
  • ???
Ninety-seven strength! And what the hell was Household Diplomacy?! Did she settle kitchen disputes in her free time?! Also, was she a Mage? How could one be an Unsuspecting Mage? Did she graduate from Mage Academy without knowing? What part of her was mage-like? Her status screen faded away as she walked out of the room. Wait. How did that screen appear again? Did she just bump her butt onto me? Lena soon returned with a damp cloth in hand, humming a tune as she approached. Table knew that this would be his best chance. He needed to confirm his theory. For science. As she wiped the surface absentmindedly, Table waited. Patience. Precision. Perversion. Then, she reached for the far corner of the table. Now! He ever-so-slightly adjusted his angle. As she reached for the far corner, he adjusted his angle¡ªjust a tiny push, tilting himself toward her upper thigh. Nothing. Not a single status window popped up. The thigh doesn¡¯t work! It has to be the butt! Before he could process the absurdity of this revelation, Lena frowned. She gave him an unimpressed look, then smacked his surface with a sharp thwack. ¡°Stop being wobbly.¡± [-3 HP] What? He was literally a table. He didn¡¯t wobble. That was a carefully executed scientific experiment! Now he had 3 HP left from sitting in the living room providing normal furniture functions. C¡¯mon. I need to confirm this. Can I rub butts and see stats? Lena, please, turn around. Rub your butt on me. Just one rub, I promise. Just one rub! I¡¯ll be good I promise. Just one rub! She walked away with the cloth in hand. He whined. He moaned. He despaired. His one chance at valuable intel was gone. Then¡­ Tabby sauntered onto the table like it owned the place. It did that annoying cat thing where it stared into the void, then casually lifted one leg and started licking its own butthole. Table cringed. Why now? Why here? Have you no shame, foul creature? Tabby turned around¡­ and rubbed its stinky, unholy cat butt against his surface. Ding! A status screen popped up.
Target name Tabby
Species Domestic Menace
HP 160/160
STR ???
AGI ???
DEX ???
INT ???
END ???
PER ???
Passive Skills Nine Lives, One Attitude ¨C Minor injuries regenerate over time. Feline Grace ¨C Cannot be caught. Ever. Owner¡¯s (Specifically Lena) Favorite ¨C Gains invulnerability when being watched by humans. Butt Licking ¨C He can lick butts good.
There it was, the Appraise skill, confirmed by a cat¡¯s butthole. It stinks! But that was beside the point. Now, he had an even bigger problem. How was he supposed to get people to accidentally rub their butts on him whenever he wanted to see their stats?
Name Table
Race Animated Furniture (Table)
Class None
Level 2
EXP 7/50
HP 3/11
MP 0
STR 3 (+1)
END 12 (+2)
AGI 18
PER 13 (+2)
Skills Appraisal (Level 1) Adjustable Angle (2 Degrees)
World-building Notes Hi y¡¯all. This is just where I drop my worldbuilding notes and details about the progression system in case I forget.
  1. The fanbase is to be called Tablelovers. No questions about it; you¡¯re a Tablelover now.
  2. Okay, so the progression system:
Level-Up Rewards: ? +5 Stat Points (allocated manually) ? Potential HP increase (if durability improves) ? *Chance to unlock new skills (random or situationally relevant) ? New passive bonuses every few levels (like increased resistance, sturdier material, or better self-repair) Table''s attribute system:
Stat Function How It Grows
STR (Strength) Determines how much force he can exert. Bumping into him might hurt a lot more. Slowly increases if he bears excessive weight, tanks damage, or gets reinforced.
END (Endurance) How much wear & tear he can withstand. Passively increases through sustained use, reinforcement, & tanking damage.
AGI (Agility) Theoretically lets him move fast¡­ if he could move. Affects how much force he absorbs from impact. Increased by dodging (adjusting) bumps, turbulence, and reacting to movement.
PER (Perception) Allows him to notice details, read status screens, and detect hidden system mechanics. Improves through successful observation quests & analyzing surroundings.
??? (Hidden Stats) Mystery stats he hasn¡¯t unlocked yet. Some may include Durability, Magic Affinity, or Sentience Expansion. No Intelligence; his intelligence is fixed, so if he dumb he dumb. ???
3. World-building notes: A. The Uninspiringly Named Medieval Realm B. The Economy: C. Class System:

Common Human Classes:

Rare & Absolutely Stupid Human Classes:

Races

?? Standard Fantasy Races (Boring but Necessary)

Absurdly Specific Races

Sources of Sentience Among Objects 1?? Old Magic & Curses 2?? Divine Intervention (or Mistakes) 3?? Sheer Willpower 4?? Accumulated History 5?? The System Chapter 10: NEW QUEST UNLOCKED: Sell Cabbages! Over the next couple of days, Table received slight enhancements that, while seemingly minor, had a noticeable effect on his stats. Rob, true to his word, honored their good fortune by reinforcing his legs with sturdier wood and sealing his surface with a new protective varnish. Lena, on the other hand, carefully wiped him down every evening. That did not give him any boost, and the fact she used cold water just made it worse. With each upgrade, Table felt a faint tingling sensation. Sure enough, whenever he pulled up his Status Window, there were small but meaningful improvements.
Name Table
Race Animated Furniture (Table)
Class None
Level 2
EXP 7/50
HP 15/15 (+4)
MP 1
STR 4 (+2)
END 12 (+2)
AGI 18
PER 11
Skills Appraisal (Level 1) Adjustable Angle (2 Degrees)
As his Endurance increased, so did his ability to withstand unfavorable external conditions. The heat from coffee cups and steaming pots still registered, but it was no longer unbearable. He no longer felt like he was about to combust when a fresh-baked loaf was placed on him. The weight of stacked items had become easier to handle, and even when someone leaned on him absentmindedly, he didn¡¯t feel like he was going to splinter in half. The HP increase made sense. After all, he had been physically reinforced. The extra STR was a welcome addition; perhaps one day, he could finally do something with it. It wasn¡¯t just resilience. His very structure was adapting. A sense of durability settled into his frame, like he was becoming a proper fixture of the household. Maybe this shabby crib wasn¡¯t so bad after all. But one thing continued to baffle him. MP: 1 Since when did I get 1 MP? I don¡¯t even remember any notification popping about that. Table had seen this since his reincarnation, but until now, he¡¯d ignored it. He had proof that magic existed. Lena herself was a mage, even if she was completely oblivious to it. That meant people in this world could cast spells. But after all, he was a table. What the hell was he supposed to do with Mana Points? Spells? Was he supposed to carve runes unto himself? As soon as he¡¯d received upgrades, his next challenge started. Rob had visited a good doctor, and after receiving his treatment, he had been coughing much less often. The treatment had cost them more than 2 Silver coins, and it would be on-going until Rob was free of the persistent coughs and wheezes. He would have to drink a gooish-green looking concoction every morning and every night before bed. It was disgusting, but it did help him. Other than that, the Oakward family had to use their newfound fortune on something, and Lena had decided that that something would be a cabbage stall. Disgusting, but Table had known Lena had terrible senses the moment she took a liking to that cat. ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking, we could make a proper stall this time.¡± Her smile to Rob was akin to a half-grin. ¡°Something small at first, but reliable.¡± If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Rob gave her a guilty smile in return. ¡°I¡¯m sorry we had to sell our old fruit cart. We needed to keep the farm running. I know how much you enjoyed selling stuff at the market.¡± She waved a hand dismissively. ¡°It¡¯s fine. We¡¯ll start again. You can even sell your table¡ª¡± What? Sell me? After all I¡¯ve done for you, and all you can think of is to pawn me off?! You harlot¡ª ¡°¡ªenhancements and kitchenwares that you¡¯ve been working on.¡± You¡¯re such an ANGEL, Lena. Always thinking for other people. ¡°Good point.¡± Rob nodded. He turned to the Table and tapped on the surface. ¡°This thing has been reliable.¡± ¡°I was thinking maybe we can give it a name. But I¡¯m not letting you name things again!¡± She put her hands on her sides, huffing and pouting. ¡°You named the tabbycat Tabby!¡± ¡°But he is a Tabby cat!¡± Rob retorted. ¡°I can¡¯t name him Black.¡± They went back and forth, throwing out increasingly ridiculous names. ¡°I got this one. It won¡¯t be boring.¡± Rob declared, puffing his chest out. ¡°Ironwood the Unyielding!¡± Ooooh, that one¡¯s got flair, Table mused. Very knightly. I like it. Put a Sir before it. Sir Ironwood the Unyielding. Good, good. Lena wrinkled her nose. ¡°Too long. What about Oakie?¡± Nah, too cute, Table thought. I am a warrior of lumber and perseverance, not some pet tree. Rob shook his head. ¡°Sounds like something you¡¯d name a squirrel. What about... Tableus Maximus?¡± Oh, I like that one. Very Roman. Very dignified. I could live with that. Lena folded her arms. ¡°That¡¯s just ¡®Table¡¯ but fancier.¡± ¡°What¡¯s wrong with that?¡± Rob huffed. ¡°It sounds strong.¡± ¡°I think Birch is nice,¡± Lena mused. Birch? No. Too soft. Too flimsy. I will not be remembered as ¡®Birch.¡¯ Neither of them could settle on one. ¡°How about we let my father decide? That way we won¡¯t have to argue,¡± Lena mused. ¡°How is he going to do that? Old man¡¯s not known for his imagination.¡± ¡°Easy!¡± She clasped her hands together. ¡°Whatever my father says when he enters the house, that will be the table¡¯s name.¡± ¡°Hmm¡­¡± He rubbed his chin. ¡°Good idea.¡± Bad idea! Bad idea! Moments later, the door creaked open. The old man entered, wiping his hands on a rag. Before anyone could say a word, his foot caught on the edge of the doorway. He tripped forward with a grunt, flailed wildly, and shouted¡ª ¡°BLORBOBOBOBO!¡± Lena and Rob turned to Table. They went silent for a moment. ¡°Blorbobobobo it is,¡± Lena said solemnly. With neck-breaking speed, the status window popped up, immediately renaming Table. NEW NAME UNLOCKED (MANDATORY): Blorbobobobo What? No! I should have a choice on whether I agree with that name or not! Who the hell falls down and shouts Blorbobobobo? This must be some sort of sick joke. ¡°Now that¡¯s done with, do you need my help with setting up the stall?¡± Bob came over to the old man to assist him, all the while craning his neck to ask Lena. ¡°Yes, of course. We will have a stall set up first thing tomorrow. I¡¯ve already prepared the cabbage.¡± A system notification flashed before Table¡¯s eyes: NEW QUEST UNLOCKED: Sell Cabbages! (1) Table was shook. What? Sell HOW MANY? At least be specific with your requests! How was he even able to assist with this, anyway? It was entirely up to Lena¡¯s merchant skill. Then, the details of the quest appeared: Set up the cabbage shop unobstructed. Reward: Nothing Punishment Upon Failure: -3 all Attributes
Name Blorbobobobo
Race Animated Furniture (Table)
Class None
Level 2
EXP 7/50
HP 15/15 (+4)
MP 1
STR 4 (+2)
END 12 (+2)
AGI 18
PER 11
Skills Appraisal (Level 1) Adjustable Angle (2 Degrees)
Chapter 11: That’s not a chicken, that’s my wife! There were plenty of stories to be heard if one woke up early enough, and that must be the case for Lena. Normally she¡¯d have to eat breakfast alone as she would wake up when the sun was already high in the sky, and Rob would already be out tending to the fields and the old man would be off to who-knows-where. They¡¯d never talked about where the old man would go, but the household would instead chatter away about the most random things possible. Table didn¡¯t mind. He¡¯d wanted to know more about the world he¡¯d lived in the past two weeks. Today, the old man decided to whimsically go over the history of the town even though no one asked¡ªlike a book that just vomited worldbuilding infodumps on readers for the sake of worldbuilding. Anyway¡­ The township of Iakesi, one of the earliest settlements in the Central Plains, was far from the strangest place in the Kingdom of Litarpege, but it had its fair share of oddities. For one, the town square was dominated by a massive statue of a chicken, Not a noble steed, not any legendary hero, but a chicken. Legend had it that the chicken, named Cluckclong the Brave, had once saved the town from a marauding band of goblins by leading them into a pit of quicksand. Townsfolk said that chicken had once saved twenty-four children from drowning, all at once. But even if such an account was true (as wasn¡¯t often the case with verbal scuttlebutts), there had been far more influential figures throughout the history of the town that didn¡¯t have statues erected. Nonetheless, the statue remained, and the townsfolk (especially a certain middle-aged lady called Hage) took great pride in it, polishing its beak every Sunday and draping it in garlands during Poultry festivals. Yes, there were more than one festival dedicated to domestic birds. That was it. That was all one needed to know about the history of the town. Now back to pushing the plot along. Rob and Lena carried out of the house, each gripping one end. ¡°Careful, dear,¡± Rob said, grunting slightly as they tried to drop Table (Blorbobobobo) on the ground. ¡°Don¡¯t want to scratch the new varnish.¡± ¡°I¡¯m being careful!¡± Lena shot back, though her grip on Table¡¯s edge was anything but gentle. ¡°You¡¯re the one who nearly tripped over the threshold.¡± Will you two take this seriously? My LIFE is on the line here. Three attribute penalties PER ATTRIBUTE for failing to set up shop? This is not a quest. This is retribution. ¡°That was one time!¡± Rob protested. One time? I¡¯ve seen you trip over your own shadow, Robert. ¡°Let me take over from here,¡± he said, then proceeded to hoist the table on his shoulder. Featherwood meant it was extremely light, and was hardly a problem for Rob. Lena had insisted they rent a cart, but Rob told her, ¡°Just because we have a bit of coin now doesn¡¯t mean we should go splurging on unnecessary expenses.¡± Maybe you should¡¯ve fixed Lena¡¯s habit of buying shiny trinkets first. ¡°Then why don¡¯t we just¡­ buy a cart? We¡¯re bound to need one,¡± Lena asked. ¡°... Good point.¡± Lena grabbed a crate of cabbages, grumbling under her breath about stubborn husbands, and then about how she had wiped Blorbo clean just for it to get messy later. They had shortened his name to Blorbo, which in all fairness did sound a bit better than Blorbobobobo. The cacophony of shouts and whispers assaulted him, and he had no way to turn them off. He wouldn¡¯t have been able to have picked up half of what were said, but his accursed PER:11 seemed to have come with unintended consequences. ¡°...and then he said, ¡®That¡¯s not a chicken, that¡¯s my wife!¡¯ Can you believe it?¡± ¡°I heard the blacksmith¡¯s apprentice ran off with a traveling bard last night. Left a note and an egg.¡± ¡°Did you see the new stall in the market? The one with the glowing crystals? Rumor has it the owner¡¯s a real mage.¡± That last sentence in particular piqued Blorbo¡¯s interest. A real mage? In Iakesi? He had yet to see any magic in these parts, and it was safe to assume those who claimed to wield it were often charlatans or tricksters. But if this mage was the real deal¡­ they could answer some questions. Lena, ever the optimist, hummed the same cheerful tune she¡¯d always hummed gardening at home as she loaded crates of cabbages onto a small cart. ¡°We¡¯ll make a fortune today, darling. Just you wait. Everyone loves a good cabbage.¡± Do they, Lena? Blorbo wondered. Do they really? The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. They set up shop. The putrid tang of alchemical potions made him feel like gagging. Potions? There might actually be a mage, or some sort of alchemist around. Lena arranged the crates of cabbages on its surface, while Rob hung a hand-painted sign that read: ¡°Oakward¡¯s Cabbages: The Finest in Iakesi!¡± The finest in Iakesi, huh? That¡¯s me. The backbone of this operation. The unsung hero of the cabbage trade. QUEST COMPLETED: Sell Cabbages! (1) Reward: Nothing Be prepared for further stages Great. At least this one wasn¡¯t so hard. To the left, a burly man in a stained apron was hawking enchanted kitchen knives that supposedly never needed sharpening. The stall to the right was empty, but the half-finished cup of coffee left on the counter suggested that it had an owner. Squawk. Behind them, a stall selling live chickens added to the chaos, the birds squawking and flapping in their cages. Clang. A few stalls down, a blacksmith hammered away at a glimmering piece of metal. Then something showed up. It was the same chicken from the wagon race¡ªor at least, Blorbo assumed it was. The bird strutted up to the stall, pecked at a cabbage, and then let out a loud squawk before taking off. [NEW SIDEQUEST: Observe the Chicken] REWARD: 1 EXP Accept: Yes/No Blorbo sighed internally. Not this again. And why is this one in a different font? He chose Accept as he locked eye with the chicken. The chicken looked back at him. He looked back harder. The chicken looked back even harder. And¡­ Congratulations. [SIDEQUEST COMPLETED: Observe the Chicken] REWARD: 1 EXP What? That easy? Everything is going a bit TOO smooth. That could only mean one thing. The owner of the right stall returned, and the mood of the market changed instantly as she walked. She was a tall, wiry woman with sharp features and a perpetually disgruntled face. But what caught everyone¡¯s attention¡ªespecially Lena¡¯s¡ªwas the crate of cabbages she carried and the sign she proceeded to hang above her stall: ¡°Pinely¡¯s Cabbages: The Finest in Iakesi!¡± Lena dropped a cabbage on Blorbo¡¯s surface. ¡°What... is this?¡± she muttered under her breath. Rob, who had been adjusting the sign on their stall, turned. ¡°Uh¡­¡± She placed her crate of cabbages on her own table¡ªa sturdy, if slightly worn, piece of furniture¡ªand began arranging them with sweeping precision. All the while glaring at Lena. Blorbo was caught in the middle of this silent standoff. This can¡¯t be good, it thought. Two cabbage stalls? In the same market? Then another quest status screen popped up. NEW QUEST: Sell the Cabbage (2) Objective: Outsell the competition Reward: +3 END, +2 PER, 10 EXP, 1 Max MP Failure: -5 Reputation with the Oakward family
Name Blorbobobobo
Race Animated Furniture (Table)
Class None
Level 2
EXP 8/50
HP 15/15 (+4)
MP 1
STR 4 (+2)
END 12 (+2)
AGI 18
PER 11
Skills Appraisal (Level 1) Adjustable Angle (2 Degrees)
Chapter 12: Oh cabbage, my cabbage, you’re stable like a table Reputation? He mused. This system had a clever way to piss Table (Blorbo) off, by simply dropping new mechanics like Reputation without bothering to explain what it would entail. He had to go with the assumption that if they failed to sell the cabbages, somehow Rob and Lena would hate him, which would be utterly ridiculous. Of all the quests he¡¯d received, he would have the least agency in this one. What was he going to do to assist Lena in selling cabbages? Wobbling around would just risk the veggies falling to the ground, and that was about the only thing he could do. And things were going as well as a typical Blorbo day would. Terrible. The two women stared at each other so hard sparks of fire could fly between them. The other woman was the first to start loading her cabbage into the stall. ¡°Good-looking cabbage you have there, young lady, if not a little small.¡± She dropped a cabbage on the table with a thump. ¡°The leaves have holes on them. Worms thrive in unsound soil, so you best be careful.¡± Lena¡¯s smile was razor-sharp as she placed her cabbage on Blorbo¡¯s surface with a loud thud. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m always careful, Marza.¡± Her voice was sugary sweet. ¡°Unlike some people who rely on polish to hide their flaws.¡± Marza stacked three cabbages in quick succession, each one hitting her table with a resounding thwack. ¡°Funny you mentioned that. I hear some farms have been struggling lately. Too much time spent on trinkets, not enough on quality.¡± I don¡¯t think the rivalry between these two ends at vegetables¡­ What kind of history do they have? Lena picked up her largest cabbage and dropped it onto Blorbo with a boom. ¡°I heard heavy polish makes the cabbage unable to stand upright.¡± Blorbo was shook. How the hell can you make a BOOM dropping a cabbage? That might¡¯ve hit a nerve with Marza. She gritted her teeth as she dropped her biggest cabbage, twice the size of Lena¡¯s biggest. It crashed onto the table with a BOOM (capitalized). ¡°Watch your tone, young lady. I was here first.¡± But Marza is young herself? She looks no older than 25. Hello? The sun firmly set its place in the sky as it swung between the clouds like a hammock. The crowd started to flock in, and the verbal assault gave way to silent glares. ¡°Don¡¯t let her get to your head like last time,¡± Rob had said. He had also told Lena before leaving to tend to the farm that if she wanted to show Marza who the boss was, she needed to outsell her. And boy, did Lena take it to heart. The pyramid of cabbages she had meticulously stacked earlier now stood tall and proud, but it wasn¡¯t enough. She needed something more. Something unforgettable. ¡°Watch this,¡± A mischievous grin spread across Lena¡¯s face. Before anyone could stop her, she climbed onto the edge of Blorbo and scaled the pyramid of cabbages. The crowd gasped as she balanced precariously on the uneven surface, her arms outstretched like a tightrope walker. ¡°Step right up!¡± Lena called, her voice ringing out over the noise of the market. ¡°The finest cabbages in Iakesi, brought to you by the one and only Cabbage Princess! Only the finest cabbages could withstand the weight of these hands!¡± So¡­ heavy! Lena, you need to work out! [SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: You have taken damage. STR -1. Endurance Training Initiated.] Lena began tossing cabbages to the crowd, each one caught by eager hands. ¡°Catch!¡± she called, her voice filled with glee. ¡°The finest cabbages in Iakesi! Authentic smell of peasantry and chicken pecks!¡± A roar rippled through the crowd. [Cabbage Counter] Lena Oakward: 6 Marza Pinely: 0 ¡°Enough!¡± Marza pulled a large, ornate box from beneath her stall. The crowd gasped as she opened it, revealing a set of glowing, rune-etched cabbages. Each one pulsed with a faint, otherworldly light, and her stall was soon shrouded in such sheen. ¡°Step right up!¡± Marza called, her voice rising above the noise. ¡°Witness the enchanted cabbages of Marza¡¯s Marvelous Market! Grown with ancient magic and blessed by the spirits of the harvest! These aren¡¯t just cabbages. They¡¯re artifacts!¡± She placed the cabbage on her table and whispered something under her breath. The runes on the cabbage flared to life, and it began to float, hovering a few inches above the surface. The crowd surged forward, eyes in awe. ¡°Elonus Muskus, Bezos Maximus, Zuckerbergus Prime!¡± Marza intoned, her voice rising and falling. ¡°Amazonus Deliverus, Tesla Drivus, Metaverse Supremus!¡± The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. Wait. Is she using actual magic? Yo, can I switch sides? Good bye Lena, imma put my 1 MP to good use. [SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: You are so dumb. Trickery detection failed. PER too low.] Trickery? That looks like real magic to me. And it tricked the crowd. They formed a huge circle around Marza¡¯s stall, getting their hands on every floating cabbage they could see. Marza sprung around, skipping back and forth. Her hand suspiciously swiped over the top of the cabbages with a cutting motion, and they dropped to the waiting palms of the customers. [Cabbage Counter] Lena Oakward: 6 Marza Pinely: 15 The gap wasn¡¯t so bad. Surely Lena could find a creative way to close the gap. Lena declared, climbing onto Blorbo with a dramatic flourish. She held up a cabbage in one hand and struck a pose. ¡°Listen closely, everyone! For I, Lena Oakward, shall now regale you with the finest vegetable poetry Iakesi has ever seen! One poem for each cabbage!¡± Some people from the crowd in front of Marza¡¯s stall turned to her, and she puffed her chest, unleashing the most historic theatrics in the history of theatrics. ¡°Oh cabbage, my cabbage, you¡¯re stable like a table, If you get poisoned while eating it will never be fatal! Oh cabbage, my cabbage, you¡¯re simply divine, Will you be my valentine?¡± Everyone turned silent. We¡¯re SO done for. Blorbo knew he had to do something. He looked at the sun. Maybe if I could just get the angle right¡­ [SKILL ACTIVATION: Adjustable Angle (2 Degrees)] The warm rays bathed the vegetables and magically transformed them into plump, crisp, and utterly irresistible cabbages. The crowd, drawn by the sudden transformation, began to drift back toward Lena¡¯s stall. ¡°Wow, those cabbages look amazing!¡± someone said, reaching for one. ¡°I¡¯ll take two!¡± ¡°Three for me!¡± another customer called, handing over their shillings. [Cabbage Counter] Lena Oakward: 11 Marza Pinely: 15 Ooooh! Despite Lena, we might have a chance¡ª Master Bimbleton hobbled into the market, leaning heavily on a pair of crutches, one hand gripping the arm of a servant for support. His silk vest looked like it had seen better days, but his smug grin was as infuriating as ever. ¡°Ah, what a delightful scene!¡± Bimbleton declared. ¡°Two lovely ladies, battling it out over cabbages. How quaint.¡± Lena¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°What do you want, Sir?¡± His grin widened. ¡°Why, my dear Lena, I¡¯m here to support local businesses, of course!¡± He turned to Marza¡¯s stall and gestured grandly. ¡°I¡¯ll take fifteen of your finest cabbages, my good woman.¡± Marza¡¯s eyes lit up like a child on Harvest Day. ¡°Fifteen? Coming right up!¡± Lena¡¯s jaw dropped. ¡°Fifteen?!¡± Her voice rose an octave. ¡°What are you even going to do with fifteen cabbages?!¡± But he had already hobbled away. As Marza began stacking cabbages into Bimbleton¡¯s servant¡¯s arms, the Cabbage Counter updated: [Cabbage Counter] Lena Oakward: 11 Marza Pinely: 30 Bimbleton, that silk-clad turnip! Fret not. All is not lost. We can still¡ª ¡°Buy one get one free,¡± Marza cupped her hands around her mouth and bellowed. ¡°Buy one cabbage, get one chicken!¡± Buy one cabbage, get one CHICKEN?! Does she even understand the concept of profit and loss? [Cabbage Counter] Lena Oakward: 11 Marza Pinely: 44 Yeah¡­ It¡¯s over. It was already late afternoon, and the sun had dipped low in the sky. No time left. Marza stepped outside of her stall and put her hands on her hips in victory. Her smug grin stretched from ear to ear. ¡°Better luck next time, Lena. If there is a next time,¡± she said, her voice dripping with triumph. Whoosh! An Elviswood table slammed down from the sky. Boom! The Elviswood table annihilated Marza¡¯s stall. The crowd screamed, scattering in all directions as debris rained down. Marza stood frozen, her mouth hanging open in shock. ¡°My stall!¡± she wailed. ¡°My cabbages! My chickens!¡± Lena was also frozen in place. ¡°Is that¡­¡± That¡¯s¡­ Bimbleton¡¯s table. Surely it didn¡¯t fly around in the sky for a week. What happened to it? The system notification popped up: [QUEST COMPLETE: Sell the Cabbage (2)] Objective: Outsell the competition. Outcome: Your adversary¡¯s stall ceased to exist. You won on technicality. Reward: +3 END, +2 PER, 10 EXP, 1 Max MP [TRAINING COMPLETED] Reward: +1 END. 1 STR returned The crowd, now thoroughly entertained (and slightly terrified), began to drift back toward Lena¡¯s stall. ¡°Well,¡± one customer said, picking up a cabbage from the wreckage and kicking away a piece of wood on the ground. ¡°I guess I¡¯ll buy from you instead.¡±
Name Blorbo
Race Animated Furniture (Table)
Class None
Level 2
EXP 18/50
HP 15/15
MP 2
STR 4
END 16 (+4)
AGI 18
PER 13 (+2)
Skills Appraisal (Level 1) Adjustable Angle (2 Degrees)
Chapter 13: There is nothing shameful about having a small wand inside you Blorbo, mighty table of legend, master of endurance, survivor of wagon duels, champion of unwanted Perception gains¡­ was now a cabbage stand. Every morning, Lena and Rob hauled him onto the new rickety cart they had just bought, dragged him through the muddy streets of Iakesi, and plopped him down at the marketplace like a common folding table at a village fair. And every morning, without fail, the cycle repeated: cabbages were unceremoniously dumped onto his surface, and he sat there. Their stall was even at the corner far away from the supposed stall with a crystal ball, so he could never be able to check out the Mage people were whispering about. No heavy burdens. No perilous balancing acts. Just cabbages. And Blorbo was furious. The worst part? The System had utterly abandoned him. No quests. No stat gains. No means of training. Nothing. The System had all but slapped him across his wooden face and declared, You shall marinate in irrelevance! This would be the seventh day he sat at the market. Usually, around this time, Master Bimbleton would strut through the stalls, puffed up like an overfed peacock, tossing backhanded compliments and taunting Rob about how his ten silver coins were funding his humble lifestyle. But today, there was no Bimbleton. Instead, a figure shrouded in tattered purple robes emerged from the crowd. His motions were smooth, and he moved with the kind of gait that screamed mysterious magical person who doesn¡¯t deal with peasantry. The hood obscured most of his face, save for a sharp chin and a pair of piercing, silver-threaded eyes that shimmered beneath the shadow. Blorbo had caught glimpses of this figure way too often before. This was the owner of that stall. The one with the crystal ball. The one people whispered about in hushed tones while buying perfectly ordinary things like bread and fish. The mage. Nobody really knew what he sold, because he¡¯d never sold anything that was of use to a normal person. Two days before, Blorbo had overheard a man whining about how he had tried to purchase a simple lucky charm, only to be upsold an ornate elephant crown (which would hardly be an upsell considering the thing cost him only 28 shillings). When he pointed out that there were no elephants in this entire kingdom, the mage had simply shrugged and replied, "Eez for future. One never knows when one must crown an elephant, eh?" Lena, who was dozing off and drenching Blorbo¡¯s surface with her own drool, straightened. ¡°Good morning, sir! Interested in some fresh¡ª¡± The orb-stall owner raised a single gloved hand. ¡°Sssssilence, cabbage mongress. You are drowning true power under an ocean of cabbage peasantry.¡± He wore another glove underneath that glove. She stared at him without blinking nor saying anything. I would too if I were her. Probably too confused to even act. His voice was thick with a lilting accent that seemed like he made up in his free time. ¡°Zese cabbages. Hm.¡± He reached out, plucked one from the pile, and turned it over in his fingers with scrutiny. ¡°Ah, yes, yes. Very round.¡± ¡°You¡¯re weird,¡± said the woman who made a poem about poisoning her customers. The man took off his first glove, leaned forward, his robes billowing slightly as his face encroached Lena¡¯s personal space. ¡°You. You are ze daughter of ze old farmer, ah?¡± Lena tensed. ¡°Old, yes. Farmer, no. He hasn¡¯t touched a plow in years. But why do you¡ª¡± ¡°Yeeees,¡± the mage (?) purred, nodding sagely. ¡°I see it now.¡± Lena shifted uncomfortably. ¡°See what?¡± The mage (?) slowly placed the cabbage back onto Blorbo¡¯s surface, then patted it twice very sagely. ¡°Tell me, cabbage mongress¡­ Do you believe in fate?¡± He then took off his second glove to reveal his grand secret: a third glove. Blorbo braced himself. This feels VERY quest-like. Surely the universe doesn¡¯t drop all this weirdness on me only to NOT give me a quest. Lena gave the mage (?) a wary look. ¡°Uh¡­ That depends. Is fate buying cabbages today?¡± The mage (?) let out a long, raspy wheeze that soon turned into a cackle. ¡°Ha-ha-HA! Ah! Exzellent! You have ze humor, yes! Good! Good, good.¡± He abruptly stopped laughing and leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. ¡°¡­Because ze fate hath brought me here. I am ze firm believer in first encounters.¡± But we¡¯ve seen each other every day for a week? Hello? ¡°Oh!¡± Lena¡¯s eyes shimmered. ¡°Are you selling trinkets or pebbles?¡± The man eyed her extremely sagely. ¡°No. But I am offering you¡­ ze chance to reach your full potential.¡± He pushed a finger onto Blorbo¡¯s surface with a suspiciously deliberate amount of force. Then¡­ The System returned. [NEW QUEST AVAILABLE¡ªThe Art of Opportunity] Objective: Identify a potential quest-giver within the market before sundown Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. Reward: Choose one of the two below NEW SKILL: Opportunity Sense (Rank I) ¨C Enables the detection of individuals who may provide quests Or Change Name ¡ª You can change your name once Failure: Eternal life as a cabbage altar Are you kidding me? Why would you make me choose between the only two things I want in life right now? Lena rested her elbows on Blorbo¡¯s surface, chin in her hands, and sighed. ¡°If this is another weird sales pitch for elephant accessories, I will have to pass.¡± Do not pass. DO NOT PASS! What if he¡¯s a quest giver? The mage (?) gasped. ¡°Mongress! You wound me!¡± He clutched his chest, and his third-gloved hand gripped his robe as he staggered. ¡°I am not here for commerce, but for destiny!¡± Lena stared blankly. ¡°You are selling something, though, right?¡± The mage (?) reached into his robe and pulled out a fully cooked fish on a plate. He held it aloft like it was a sacred relic. ¡°Zis is what I offer.¡± Lena blinked. ¡°That¡¯s a fish.¡± And a rainbow trout too. The objectively worst-tasting fish. ¡°Ah. My mistake. I used ze wrong glove.¡± With a flourish, the mage (?) tossed aside his third glove, revealing the fourth glove. He then reached into his robe once more. Lena and Blorbo started at his robe for seconds. From the depths of his many-pocketed robe, the mage (?) produced¡­ ¡°A stick?¡± Lena squinted her eyes. ¡°Zis a wand,¡± he replied as he placed it in her palm. Lena didn¡¯t know why but she had already unconsciously opened her hands to receive it. The ¡®wand¡¯ was so tiny it sat neatly on her palm line. Lena stared at it. Blorbo stared at it. Lena cleared her throat. ¡°Uh. I don¡¯t mean to be rude, but¡­ is yours supposed to be that small?¡± ¡°Ze smallest are ze most skillful. Ze is nothing shameful about having a small wand inside you.¡± ¡°How much are you offering it for?¡± ¡°Keep it. I charge no fee for destiny, ah.¡± He wore a glove into his gloved hand. ¡°You are too kind.¡± ¡°Within the first month. From zee second month onward, it is a subscription fee of 100 shillings.¡± Lena immediately closed her fingers around the wand and tossed it back at him. ¡°No thanks.¡± The mage (?) yelped, fumbling with his over-gloved hands to catch it. The wand bounced off his palm, flipped twice in the air, and landed neatly on Blorbo¡¯s surface, where it sat, radiating a vague aura of uselessness. [You have been Blessed with a Global Aura: Useless Gloved Fool] Effect: Whenever you wear 4 gloves on a single hand at once, mana cost for Spellcasting of Basic or Rare Spells decreases by 50% Duration: Forever Blorbo screamed internally. But I don¡¯t have hands? This skill is overpoweringly useless! ¡°Keep it.¡± The man knocked once on the table. ¡°By nightfall, if you still see no use in this wand, you are free to return it. I shall exchange the wand for an ornate elephant crown.¡± ¡°Sir, I¡ª¡± But the man had already glided away. Blorbo watched as Lena desperately tried to chase after him, when suddenly¡­ [QUEST COMPLETED¡ªThe Art of Opportunity] Choose your reward wisely. You will not have a chance to reselect. But I¡¯ve only ever interacted with that odd man? Wait¡­ Is he the real deal? A real quest giver? A mage? How is that possible? Do all mages have small sticks? The silhouette of both people were reduced to the size of an insect as Blorbo¡¯s eyes. Staring at the System prompt, he internally wept. Opportunity Sense or Change Name Freedom from Blorbo or a lifetime of actually finding quests. His very essence ached for the second option. To change his name, to cast off the humiliating fate that had bound him since reincarnation. No longer would he be called Table or Blorbo. No longer would he suffer the indignity of being furniture first, person second. But¡­ Blorbo was not stupid. What good was a name if he rotted away in irrelevance? No. I am a table, but I am not an idiot. With the full force of his reluctant, agonized will, he made his choice. [CHOICE SELECTED: OPPORTUNITY SENSE (Rank I)] Lena, having given up on her pursuit of the gliding con artist, grumbled as she trudged back. ¡°Ugh. He vanished. I don¡¯t know how, but he did.¡± She looked down at Blorbo. ¡°Well, at least I got a free¡ª¡± She frowned. ¡°¡­ Where¡¯s the wand?¡± Blorbo twitched. The wand was no longer on his surface. But there was another, more immediately attention-grabbing symbol that was catching his attention. The question mark over Lena¡¯s head.
Name Blorbo
Race Animated Furniture (Table)
Class None
Level 2
EXP 18/50
HP 15/15
MP 2
STR 4
END 16 (+4)
AGI 18
PER 13 (+2)
Skills Appraisal (Level 1) Adjustable Angle (2 Degrees) Opportunity Sense (Level 1)
Aura Useless Gloved Fool (Permanent)
Chapter 14: I pray you have ‘1 Unread Notification’ on your screen forever! The question mark was there, golden and glowing. It spun in place with a slow, deliberate rotation, so slow to the point of irritation. Blorbo just wanted for it to stop moving altogether. He willed himself to interact with the question mark. Sure enough, a quest popped up. [Quest: Find the Wand] Objective: Help Lena find the tiny missing wand Reward: 3 EXP, 1 CP Prerequisite: 12 PER (You can accept this quest [PER: 13]) Unlock Temporary Stat Distribution Accept: Yes/No What is CP? It wasn¡¯t on his stats table. But neither was Aura before it was added. Surely it can¡¯t be something terrible. And Temporary Stat Distribution seems like a huge deal. I¡¯d be a fool to not accept. He hit Yes. Lena sighed, rubbing her temple. ¡°I¡¯m soooo tired and hungry, and I haven¡¯t even closed up shop.¡± She glanced around the marketplace with all the enthusiasm of a child asked to fetch firewood in the dead of winter. ¡°Alright, fine. Let¡¯s see¡­ where did it go?¡± She turned in a slow, lazy circle. ¡°Nope. Don¡¯t see it. Guess it¡¯s lost forever. Time to go home.¡± Blorbo internally screamed. What kind of pathetic effort was that?! Meanwhile, his finely tuned table senses had already pinpointed the wand¡¯s location. It was right there. The tiny thing was nestled right next to one of his legs, partially hidden by a stray cabbage leaf. If he could just move¡ªjust nudge it ever so slightly¡ªit would roll out into the open. But if Lena saw him move, she¡¯d realize something was off. A moving table would not be a normal sight. Then, salvation arrived. ¡°Oi, sweetie!¡± Rob rolled into view, pushing the cart that would take them home for the night. ¡°Have you had a good day?¡± Lena waved at him with a sudden enthusiasm that didn¡¯t exist a second ago. ¡°Hey hey! Business was slow, but the weirdest thing happened today? You wanna hear? Yes, yes you do!¡± ¡°I want to tell you about what Tabby did today too. But you first.¡± ¡°Okay, so you remember the creepy man running the orb shop? So today¡ª¡± As Rob walked past him and blocked Lena¡¯s vision, Blorbo activated Adjustable Angle. His leg leaned forward¡ªjust the tiniest bit. It bumped the wand just enough to send it rolling out from under him, right as Rob¡¯s foot swung forward. The wand tumbled across the ground¡­ bounced once¡­ and landed directly in Lena¡¯s path. Lena blinked. ¡°Oh. There it is.¡± She bent down and picked it up. ¡°Why¡¯s that stick so tiny?¡± Rob raised a brow. ¡°Do you collect sticks too now?¡± ¡°That¡¯s part of the story! I can¡¯t wait to tell you.¡± She grinned as she wrapped her arms around his. ¡°Now my handsome strongman, would you please kindly do all the work while his exhausted lady stand here looking pretty?¡± This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°I mean, I have to do work too,¡± he said, but did as told anyway. Perfect execution. Nobody suspected a thing. [Quest Completed: Find the Wand] Reward: +3 EXP, +1 CP Temporary Stat Distribution Unlocked I can¡¯t wait to open my status table and see what¡¯s changed. As Rob placed him on the cart, Blorbo willed the status screen open, and sure enough, a new row was added for CP. What the hell is CP anyway? Choice Point? Checkpoint? Or even worse... Chicken Point? He looked around but couldn¡¯t see any stats that could potentially be ¡®temporary¡¯. All the stats seem pretty fixed to him. Then CP is probably the temp stat. That would mean I can use it to buff some attribute for some time. Blorbo needed to test this theory, and he had plenty of time to spare now that he was loaded into the cart and was on the way home. He willed himself to drag his newly-earned CP onto the STR row. A confirmation notification popped up: Exchange 1 CP for 1 STR¡ªDuration: 1 Hour Accept: Yes/No He chose No, then dragged the CP onto the HP row instead. Exchange 1 CP for 1 HP¡ªHP: 16/15 Accept: Yes/No Wait. I can go over the HP cap? What if I try to add another CP? [Error: Not enough CP. Please consume another cabbage.] I don¡¯t have a mouth! Wait¡­ Consume what?! So CP is Cabbage Point?! The magic power boost in this world is¡­ cabbage? Guess he was never going to get another power-up in his life. Okay, so if I understand this correctly, Cabbage Point is more like an accumulated reserve that can be used to exchange for temporary boosts. Unless it¡¯s HP. Then it¡¯s permanent until deducted, I guess? Then what does this have to do with cabbages? Blorbo decided he didn¡¯t need any stat buff right now. He remembered that when accepting the quest from Lena earlier, there was a prerequisite of 12 PER. He barely had enough PER to accept that quest, so there would be lots of situations in the future where he would need to cheat the system and buff up some of his attributes to not miss out on golden opportunities. I should drag the CP back to its place. Dragging. Dragging. Dragging. Oh yeah! I love it! It feels good to finally be able to interact with the status screen; to finally be able to have SOME agency in my life for once! He kept lugging and yanking the CP around with utmost pleasure. Never could he imagine he would feel so much joy from something so simple. The cart hit a bump on the road. His concentration broke for a beat, and when he realized it, his CP was stuck on the MP row. No! I don¡¯t need an extra MP! I don¡¯t even know how to use MP yet! I need to cancel it quick! Right as he was about to will the CP away from the CP row, the system notification showed up. Exchange 1 CP for 1 MP¡ªDuration: 1 Hour Accept: Yes/No The letter Yes was right there. Right in his line of sight. Blorbo had no time to react before his instincts betrayed him. [EXCHANGE CONFIRMED: 1 CP ¡ú 1 MP] NO! WHY, WHY, WHY! I NEED THAT CP BACK! I WAS GOING TO SAVE IT FOR LATER! Another status reminder popped up. [Remember to use up your MP before the hour ends!] Curse you, System! You harlot-buttock clown! I pray you have a ¡®1 Unread Notification¡¯ displayed on your screen forever!
Name Blorbo
Race Animated Furniture (Table)
Class None
Level 2
EXP 21/50
HP 15/15
MP 2 + [1]
CP 0
STR 4
END 16
AGI 18
PER 13
Skills Appraisal (Level 1) Adjustable Angle (2 Degrees) Opportunity Sense (Level 1)
Aura Useless Gloved Fool (Permanent)
Chapter 15: Blasting orcs away was not as important as solving world hunger As the cart rumbled along the dirt path toward home, Blorbo did his best to ignore the cabbage dust coating his surface and the dread of losing that one cabbage point. He didn¡¯t know if Opportunity Sense had done anything to boost his perception, but he felt as though he was a tiny bit better at overhearing stories against his will now. ¡°So do you think he¡¯s an actual mage?¡± Rob was asking. Of course he is! He cast an aura on me! Useless, but very real! ¡°I don¡¯t know. Why would a mage set up shop in a boring town that only sells produce?¡± Lena retorted as she put a finger on her chin. ¡°I mean, the Mage Academy up north is supposed to be huge,¡± Rob replied. ¡°It¡¯s not that far away. Say maybe only two-day worth of horse trekking.¡± ¡°That is an entire one thousand miles away, Rob!¡± She nudged him lightly on the arm. ¡°Why are you phrasing it like that? And I heard they¡¯re training battlemages to fight the orcs on the Northern Frontier. They should be too short-staffed to, you know, sell trinkets in a lazy market. This one doesn¡¯t even sell trinkets! He doesn¡¯t even look to sell anything useful. He¡¯s just weird.¡± Blorbo¡¯s metaphorical ears locked in. Mages. Orcs. War. This was critical world information. He must listen. ¡°Magic has existed for hundreds of years, dear,¡± Rob smiled. ¡°There are mages who do all sorts of trades now. If he¡¯s not a battlemage, there¡¯s no reason he should have to be stuck at the Northern Frontier.¡± Lena stared at the ridiculously tiny wand between her fingers. ¡°I guess. Maybe he couldn¡¯t become a battlemage since his stick is too small.¡± Rob seemed to like the historical aspects of things, and the conversation flowed as smoothly as it would when you get a nerd to talk about the one specific thing that he was deeply interested in. Rob burst into a monologue, and Lena was reduced to a role of a listener. Nonetheless, Blorbo was showered with important world lore. From what Blorbo had pieced together, magic had only existed for a fraction of humankind¡¯s existence. Before that, people were entirely normal. No fireballs, lightning balls, or other reality-bending nonsense. If they wanted to kill another person, they had to pick up a yucky sword. Until one day, a man named Gregorwy (now titled Archgrandmaster Gregorwy) suddenly conjured a chicken out of thin air. That was it. That was the moment magic entered the world. Nobody knew how or why it happened. One minute, Gregorwy was a simple farmer about to cook dinner. The next, he had accidentally summoned a fully feathered, very confused chicken into existence. That chicken was bathed in banana and mayonnaise! It came pre-seasoned! Truly an abhorrent combination. Blorbo was VERY adamant that the System had something to do with the birth of magic. Only such a twisted mind could combine banana and mayonnaise. The town freaked out. Some people claimed it was a con, an intricate prank, others straight up denied it ever happened. Gregorwy, not fully understanding what he had done, attempted to prove it wasn¡¯t a fluke by conjuring another chicken. And another. And another. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. By the time the town guard arrived, Gregorwy had spawned over 400 chickens and created a massive supply-demand imbalance in the local vicinity. This event became known as ¡°The Cluckening Awakening.¡± At first, people assumed it was just Gregorwy. Some strange, poultry-based curse. But then, others started showing signs of magic. A blacksmith accidentally melted metal with his hands. A fisherman discovered he could summon water out of thin air (but only saltwater with 3.5% salinity). A particularly dramatic bard started setting people¡¯s hair on fire whenever he sang. The world was never the same again. ¡°So what happened after that? Did the nobles freak out? How were they able to get these magic-wielders so organized that they¡¯re willing to learn magic in an academy?¡± Lena really got into it now, grabbing and grappling the wand so fiercely as Rob¡¯s words flowed into her ears. Rob gave her a cheeky grin. ¡°I¡¯d love to tell you more but¡­¡± He opened the wooden door to their own home. ¡°We¡¯re home. We have dinner to make.¡± Lena and Blorbo groaned in unison. But dinner was more important than blasting orcs with a wooden wand. Commoners who didn¡¯t have magic had to provide for themselves since there weren¡¯t many chicken-conjuring mages. In fact, mages who could conjure foodstuff were an extreme rarity, and were so revered amongst the public and scholars alike that there was a separate class for them: The Chicken Mage. Blasting orcs away was not as important as solving world hunger. Rob quickly moved Blorbo to his rightful place in the middle of the main room. Lena strolled into the kitchen, twirling the ridiculously tiny wand between her fingers. The sky had already darkened, and she would have to get to work soon, so she was hard-pressed for time. But there was something more hard-pressed than dinner. Magic. Real magic that could shatter reality as he knew it! Do it, woman! Train yourself in the arts of the arcane! ¡°What am I even supposed to do with this?¡± Lena muttered. She gave it a few experimental flicks toward the air. Nothing happened. She pointed it at the fireplace. No sudden bursts of flames. She even tried waving it over an unpeeled potato like she was about to turn it into a feast. The potato remained a potato. Still unpeeled. Lena sighed. ¡°Magic this, magic that. Yeah, I¡¯ll figure this out later.¡± And then, without an ounce of ceremony, she dropped the wand onto the kitchen table. Blorbo internally screamed. NO, NO, NO. DON¡¯T JUST LEAVE IT THERE. He could already see the future. He knew Lena. If something stayed on this table, it was as good as lost. This was the same woman who had once misplaced a whole cast-iron skillet because she left it on the table, then proceeded to cover it with a pile of vegetables, two bags of flour, and an entire stack of handwritten recipes. By the time she actually needed the skillet, she spent two days complaining that someone had stolen it. She had lost a skillet. A SKILLET. And now, she was treating the wand the same way. LENA, YOU IDIOTIC CABBAGEHEAD! YOU¡¯RE GOING TO LOSE THE WAND! She hummed to herself, completely unaware of the catastrophe she had just set into motion.
Name Blorbo
Race Animated Furniture (Table)
Class None
Level 2
EXP 21/50
HP 15/15
MP 2 + [1]
CP 0
STR 4
END 16
AGI 18
PER 13
Skills Appraisal (Level 1) Adjustable Angle (2 Degrees) Opportunity Sense (Level 1)
Aura Useless Gloved Fool (Permanent)
I have succumbed to sickness! Greetings, fellow Tablelovers! Alas, I have been struck down by a sickness most foul, and so I must ask for your patience for but a single day more. The next chapter, fated to be online on the 25th, shall arrive in due time, once I have bested this most persistent cold. I would not leave you in the dark without a notification when I recover! But behold! If you seek company and lively discourse, perhaps I can interest you in our humble Discord server, where we can bounce ideas and discuss potential world-breaking spells. Join us within the yonder realm: Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. ?? https://discord.gg/6aWjVbF8kc And should you feel inclined to grant this tale a favor, a short review upon its front page would be most welcome! I am a Table has ascended unto the Rising Stars of the Satire realm, and your support is vital for its current and future success. Who knows? Perhaps even Lena might reward you with a friendship hug. Thank you for your patience and loyalty! Fortune willing, I shall return to thee upon the morrow, with quill in hand and words anew. Chapter 16: You have an innate talent for making people sit down at the exact same time Instead of securing the wand in a drawer, a box, anywhere, ANYWHERE safe, she just¡­ moved on. She grabbed an onion from the counter and got to chopping, completely oblivious to the fact that the magical artifact of destiny was now in grave danger. Blorbo watched in horror as the chaos began. She plopped a handful of herbs onto the table¡ªright next to the wand. Then came a stack of sliced carrots. Then a cutting board. Then an entire raw chicken. Blorbo was about to lose his mind. THE WAND WAS ALREADY GETTING BURIED. He tried to will her to notice. Look at it! Look at the wand! LOOK AT THE WAND! As if noticing a telepathic disturbance in the air, she stopped chopping the herbs. Oooh, it¡¯s working! Lena simply wiped her hands on her apron and turned to grab the salt. Then she kept chopping the herbs. Idiot! Who the hell salt their herbs while chopping them? Blorbo could see the timeline branching before him. If she didn¡¯t move the wand within the next two minutes, it would be lost to the void forever. And then, as if to confirm his worst fears¡­ THUNK. Lena plopped a sack of potatoes directly on top of it. Blorbo internally exploded. That thing might have already broken in half! As he was preparing to mentally draft his last will and testament for the wand, a new threat appeared. A soft thump landed on the kitchen counter, followed by a purr. A flick of a tail. A small, smug yawn. A set of beady little eyes surveying the kingdom before him. Tabby. The feline menace. Lena didn¡¯t glanced up. ¡°Not now, sweetheart.¡± She scratched Tabby absentmindedly behind the ear before returning to chopping onions. The cat yawned an jumped down the counter, walking towards Blorbo. Blorbo couldn¡¯t breathe. Not because he didn¡¯t have lungs, but because something horrifying had appeared above Tabby¡¯s head. A golden, glowing question mark. It spun. It shimmered. THE CAT HAD A QUEST. Never in Blorbo¡¯s life would he have guessed that his arch nemesis would be his only saving grace. Blorbo¡¯s Opportunity Sense screamed at him. His status screen flashed open against his will, revealing the new quest. [QUEST: Meow Meow (1)] Objective: Convince Tabby to retrieve the buried wand. Reward: +12 EXP, +2 STR, and a new beginner skill (random). Prerequisite: 5 AGI, 5 END, 5 PER (You can accept this quest) Failure: Lena NEVER learns magic. What? Meow Meow ONE? You mean I will have to do more quest that has anything to do with this foul beast? Also, what kind of failure consequence is that? NEVER learn magic? That¡¯s absurd! She can just encounter another four-gloved, robed stall merchant in the future and get another wand from him, no? Tabby had already jumped on Blorbo¡¯s surface, licking its butthole and rubbing the butt against the table. The status window for the cat¡¯s attributes kept opening then closing, to Blorbo¡¯s absolute frustration, but he had to endure. He had to focus. Step one: Assess the target. Tabby was currently kneading a small circle into his surface, tail flicking in boredom. She was seconds away from deciding that nothing interesting was happening and leaving. Blorbo¡¯s nonexistent pulse spiked. Step two: Identify a strategy. Option A: Try to mentally will the cat to act. (Low success rate. Cats resist orders on principle.) Option B: Hope Tabby accidentally does it himself. (Even lower success rate.) The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. Option C: Make the wand interesting. (Best option.) I need the cat to see the wand first. Step three: Execute the plan. He activated Adjustable Angle. His wooden frame titled just enough to subtly shift Tabby¡¯s viewpoint toward the sack of potatoes where the wand was barely peeking out. His eyes flicked toward the movement. He saw it. He must¡¯ve seen it! The tiny glimmer of wand. The forbidden, untamed artifact of hunt-worthy proportions. Then, the real test. Would Tabby take the bait? He stared, and stared, for way longer than a cat who had found something interesting would. Blorbo screamed internally. COME ON. IT¡¯S RIGHT THERE. POUNCE ON IT, YOU LITTLE GREMLIN. Tabby yawned. Then it went to sleep. Blorbo internally exploded. His rage had reached critical levels. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Why is everyone in this household so daft? Must I be the only one with a functioning brain in this hell-forsaken world? Arrrrrrgggggghhhhhh! And then¡ª Blorbo shook. Not metaphorically. Physically. A sudden, violent tremor plowed through his wooden body, rattling the very foundation of his being. A notification flashed across his vision. [NEW CONDITIONAL SKILL UNLOCKED: MASSIVE LEAP UNDER DURESS] Wait? Have I seen this before? Then came the description. When under extreme stressful situations, have an 80% chance of either: Getting a randomly-generated boost for a random attribute or Unlocking a random beginner-level skill. If that skill is already learned, either upgrade it or unlock a branched evolution of that skill, at random He¡¯d never seen a description so long nor letters appearing so quickly before from the System. Wow, wow, wow! Slow down with the info! Once he¡¯d finished reading, he beamed with joy. Oh, great! I love self-inflicted stress. Then something else happened. The tremor didn¡¯t just shake him once. No. It kept going. Another notification appeared. [NEW BRANCH OF ADJUSTABLE ANGLE UNLOCKED!] ¡ú Surface Agitation (Level I) ¨C You can now rapidly shift left and right by two degrees. Oh! So the vibration I¡¯m making is actually caused by me just leaning left and right at supersonic speed! Blorbo had evolved. He was no longer just a tilting table. He was now a shaking table. Of course, his sudden, violent reaction had consequences. Tabby¡¯s eyes snapped open. He was so shook by the table shaking that he just had to jump off. The kitchen counter was the only other platform. With a startled yowl, she launched herself off the table¡ªstraight onto the kitchen counter. And then¡­ Her back paw accidentally kicked the wand as she avoided stepping on the sack of potatoes. Blorbo watched in slow motion as the wand soared through the air, flipping end over end. Lena, oblivious, turned around just as it sailed past her ear. Somehow, against all laws of probability, the wand landed perfectly on Blorbo¡¯s surface with a muted plop. [QUEST COMPLETED¡ªMeow Meow (1)] Reward: +12 EXP, +2 STR Blorbo couldn¡¯t believe it. He had shaken the cat into saving magic. He eyed at the new skill he¡¯d learned. New beginner-level skill unlocked: Synchronized Sitting (Level 1) Ohhhh! That sounds great! What does it do? He willed himself to click on the details of the skill. You have an innate talent for making people feel like they sat down at the exact same time as someone else. What is this NONSENSE? What am I ever going to use this for?
Name Blorbo
Race Animated Furniture (Table)
Class None
Level 2
EXP 21/50
HP 15/15
MP 2 + [1]
CP 0
STR 4
END 16
AGI 18
PER 13
Skills Appraisal (Level 1) Adjustable Angle (2 Degrees) Opportunity Sense (Level 1) Surface Agitation (Level 1) Synchronized Sitting (Level 1) Massive Leap Under Duress (Conditional)
Aura Useless Gloved Fool (Permanent)
Chapter 17: A pi?ata, the most powerful being in all the lands Lena was setting the table for dinner, humming the same silly tune to herself as she placed down bowls and plates. At last, she noticed the wand. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± She picked up the tiny, absurdly small magic stick and twirled it between her fingers. ¡°Oh, right. Almost lost you again.¡± ALMOST?! Blorbo internally shrieked. Lena shrugged and, without a second thought, slipped the wand into her pocket. It was safe, for now. For the first time since the Wand Incident, Blorbo allowed himself to breathe. He was too emotionally exhausted to process anything else. Between the cat, the potatoes, and his new, completely useless skill, he needed a break. ¡°Not looking too bad, Lena.¡± Somebody spoke, and Blorbo almost shook in startle because of the spook. ¡°The potatoes didn¡¯t turn into mush today.¡± The old man appeared in the kitchen, settling into his chair like he had been there the whole time. HOW? His Perception had gone up. He was a new table now. Yet, he still couldn¡¯t detect when the old man entered the house. No footsteps. No creaking floorboards. No shouting of random made-up words. The man had just¡­ appeared. What the hell does this man DO all day? The old man would leave in the morning without a word and come back at night, silent as a ghost. Nobody in this house ever talked about it. He doubt Rob and Lena even knew what he was doing for a living. And the man had a weirdly specific set of exactly twelve knives kept inside a cupboard counter. He is obviously a retired legendary assassin. Maybe the head of a secret guild. Maybe he once slaughtered an entire castle''s worth of nobles with just a butter knife. Or he is an archmage himself! That would explain why Lena is a mage¡ªmaybe being a mage is a hereditary thing. Maybe he held forbidden knowledge. Maybe he once accidentally created the first sentient chair. Rob and Lena sat down at the kitchen table, the chairs creaking under their weight as they settled in for dinner. And then, at the exact same moment, they both made a sound. Simultaneously, they looked at each other, eyes wide with surprise. ¡°Did we just sit down at the exact same time?¡± Rob asked, eyebrows raised. Lena blinked. ¡°How unlikely is that?¡± She grinned. ¡°We¡¯re like¡­ synchronized.¡± ¡°We just know each other too well.¡± Rob clapped once. They both chuckled, before their chuckles were cut short by the old man¡¯s rumble, ¡°Don¡¯t talk at the dining table! Have some manners, you two.¡± Blorbo, however, had never been more aware of anything in his life. He watched the whole thing unfold, a small twinge of rage bubbling up. The passive skill Synchronized Sitting had activated on its own. He tried to find a way to deactivate it. There wasn¡¯t any. You¡¯re going to feel this way every night from now on, he was annoyed. People would be sitting down in sync until eternity. What if he wanted them to sit down at different times? What then, huh? Ever thought about that? If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. He saved magic. And this was the reward he got? The thought about the useless skill and the old man kept him occupied until everyone in the household had finished their dinners. ¡°I love cabbage,¡± Lena sat back in her chair, patting her full stomach as she finished her dinner. The conversation had drifted, and Rob had already started talking about some absurd theory he had about the weather. Lena looked like she was agitated and wanted to stood, but since she still had to stay and listen to weather conspiracy theories, she reached out to her pocket and pulled out the wand, fiddling with it as though it was just another toy, a shiny pebble. The old man¡¯s eyes narrowed, and in a flash of movement faster than Blorbo had ever seen, he was on his feet, seizing Lena¡¯s wrist with surprising force. ¡°What is that?¡± he demanded with a low, controlled growl. Lena blinked in shock. ¡°What¡ªwhat¡¯s wrong?¡± The old man¡¯s grip tightened, and his gaze hardened as he stared at the tiny wand in her hand. His eyes were filled with an emotion Blorbo couldn¡¯t place, but it sure as heck wasn¡¯t a good emotion. ¡°Get rid of that this instant.¡± Lena¡¯s voice faltered. ¡°I¡­ It¡¯s just a¡­ just a thing from the market.¡± ¡°Anders, stop. You always do this.¡± Rob stood, pushing his chair back with a loud scrape. His usual easygoing demeanor was completely replaced with a rare intensity that Blorbo had never seen before. ¡°You don¡¯t get to talk to her like that.¡± ¡°I talk to my daughter however the damn I want!¡± Anders turned to him. ¡°She¡¯s not a little girl anymore, and you¡¯re not going to scare her just because you don¡¯t like something.¡± ¡°What do you know?¡± the old man spat. ¡°You¡¯re a farmer, boy. I only tolerate you.¡± ¡°I can be more than that if I need to. We came from a long line of defenders, and I haven¡¯t forgotten our roots.¡± Rob¡¯s jaw tightened and his hands curled into fists. ¡°The only thing worse than a farmer is a disgraced and oblivious Paladinborn. Tell me a Paladin Aura you¡¯re able to cast.¡± Paladinborn? What the heck is that? Is anyone in this household an actual commoner? ¡°I might not know how to cast an Aura.¡± He took a step forward. ¡°But I know enough to know that she¡¯s my wife. And you don¡¯t get to treat her like she¡¯s a doll.¡± A moment of silence. Blorbo held his breath, waiting for the old man to explode again. But instead, Anders suddenly relaxed. He let out a deep sigh, looking at Rob, then at Lena, who was now silently shaking, then back to Rob. His stiff posture softened. He then nodded slowly and spoke in a calmer voice, ¡°I¡¯ll give you that. You¡¯ve got guts. One of the few things I like about you.¡± Rob didn¡¯t back down. Anders turned back toward Lena and his expression hardened again. ¡°I took you here for you to stay away from that life. Not to dive into it.¡± Lena blinked, her hand instinctively reaching for the wand in her pocket. Yo, what life? Can someone fill me in? Hello? You know there¡¯s a fourth entity in this household, right? ¡°What life, dad?¡± she asked. ¡°Just give me the wand.¡± He spread his hand. Lena held the wand firmly in her grasp. ¡°What life? This is the only life I¡¯ve ever known. Tell me what you mean.¡± The grip on the wand tightened as she glared at Anders, refusing to back down. ¡°Lena,¡± Anders¡¯ voice was even lower now. ¡°Don¡¯t squeeze it like that.¡± His voice was sharp like a dagger. Her fingers instinctively tightened further, and her fingers trembled lightly. Easy, Lena. You might break it! ¡°What life!¡± Lena screamed, throwing her hands into the air. BOOM! There was a flash of light. Then came a spectacular explosion of smoke that filled the room with blue, green, and purple wisps swirling around in the air. Blorbo recoiled. He¡¯d even physically shaken, praying people would just think Lena shook him as a byproduct of whatever had happened. The shadows of something imprinted itself behind the smoke. Dark, dangerous, dragon-shaped. ¡°Careful!¡± Rob jumped in front of Lena with his fists raised. Then the old man jumped in front of both of them then pointed two fingers at the shadow as if he was about to shoot a ray of death at it. Then the crazy dangerous shadow revealed itself. It was a dragon-shaped pi?ata. It swung gently as the rainbow-colored ribbons hanging from its horns flapped. The room now smelled like glitters. Lena stared at it, wide-eyed. "What... what the heck is this?" she asked, her voice a mixture of shock and pure confusion. A pi?ata?! Lena is a garbage mage! ¡°A pi?ata, the rarest being in all of the lands,¡± Anders grunted, his voice somehow even lower. ¡°I should¡¯ve known.¡± A pi?ata, the rarest being in all of the lands?! Lena, you¡¯re a GENIUS! Chapter 18: Keep yelling at me and kick me in the butt! Glitter glided around in the air like some kind of twisted confetti storm. ¡°A Pi?ata Mage is no laughing matter.¡± Anders¡¯ voice was grave as he spat out an orange particle of glitter. ¡°The magic behind such power is volatile. You think it¡¯s just a little party favor, don¡¯t you? Party Mages are the worst, and Pi?ata Party Mages are the worst of the worst.¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t this supposed to be classified as a subclass of Chicken Mage?¡± Rob asked. ¡°Food monger extraordinare? Maybe there¡¯s food inside.¡± ¡°Silence,¡± Anders replied. He then swung around and punched the pi?ata with his bare fist. Upon impact, the pi?ata shook and leaked in multiple places. Glitter shot out like firework, and suddenly, a cloud of candies rained down from its opening mouth. The sweet smell of sugar assaulted the air as lollipops and caramel chews poured out non-stop. ¡°There is food inside,¡± Rob stood in awe. A luminous question mark appeared above Rob''s head, accompanied by the all-too-familiar sound of the System chime. [NEW QUEST: Make Chicken Soup for the Sick] Objective: Make a warm bowl of chicken soup for the sick in your household within the next two hours. Reward: 1 EXP, 5 CP, and a spoon of the finest quality. Prerequisite: None Failure: Bad things happen. Accept: Yes/No What? What does this have to do with anything? How do I make chicken soup without hands? Blorbo couldn¡¯t do it. Only Rob could. And he was sure that other than himself, nobody else was aware of the existence of the quests, or of stats and skills altogether. I think these are designed to be generic quests, not specific to furniture. I can just find quests I can do. And that failure consequence? He wouldn¡¯t risk finding out. He clicked No. As he did, another golden question mark flickered into existence¡ªthis time, above Anders¡¯ head. [NEW QUEST: Stop the Rainbow Ribbons from Flapping Too Loudly] Objective: Quietly stop the rainbow ribbons from flapping loudly within the next ten minutes. Reward: 1 EXP, +2 STR, and a brand new pair of socks Temporary Aura: Adjustable Angle (Level 2) (7 degree)¡ªDuration: 10 minutes Prerequisite: None Failure: The ribbons double their noise and attract unwanted attention. Accept: Yes/No Only when he saw the quest did he realize the ribbons were making sounds. The noise it made wasn¡¯t nearly as bad as the shouting contest happening in the house right now. Hardly loudly. What? Why? Do the ribbons hold ANY significance at all? Why are these main quests and not sidequests? The System didn¡¯t even bother trying with the quest name this time. Nonetheless, this was a quest he could actually do. So he clicked Accept. Rob grunted as he spoke to Anders, ¡°We don¡¯t want trouble in this house, Mr. Woodywise. If there might be potential trouble we don¡¯t know about, you should speak to us forthrightly so we can reach a solution.¡± Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. Blorbo calculated the precise distance between himself and the rope that held the pi?ata. I¡¯m blessed with advanced leaning capabilities! I have to make use of this! He flapped to one side, then to another side. Because he had to flap slowly to not draw attention, the step he took was disappointingly small. No one saw it yet. He took another step. Then the third. The distance he¡¯d cover was so minuscule nobody even noticed. I¡¯m too far away. Then he spotted Tabby sitting near the rope, licking its paw. I can reach the cat! I just need to move a little. The old man poked at Rob¡¯s chest. ¡°If you didn¡¯t want trouble, you should¡¯ve listened to your folks when they told you to not marry an immigrant.¡± Blorbo leaned back and forth, closing the distance between him and that cat by half an inch. I¡¯m still too far, and I can¡¯t lean faster without being detected! Rob kicked the side of the table as he said, ¡°You can disrespect me all you want, but don¡¯t say that about your own daughter.¡± Blorbo immediately took advantage of the kick to theatrically flapped sideway like a walking duck. [-1 HP] Oh yeah! Keep arguing! Keep yelling at me and kick me in the butt! Lena crossed her arm, slapped the table, and stared straight into Anders¡¯ eyes. ¡°Dad. We¡¯ve been fine until now. What¡¯s wrong? What are we?¡± [-8 HP] Minus 8?! No way that slap was that strong. I barely felt it. He thought as he catapulted towards the cat like a fireball. ¡°Don¡¯t talk to me like that!¡± Anders growled when Blorbo touched the cat. Tabby jumped up in shock. The cat¡¯s claws dug into the rope, and it clutched onto it like a lifeline. ¡°Are we mages, dad? Are we mages?¡± Lena raised her voice. ¡°You are a commoner and always will be!¡± Anders countered. ¡°Then what was that earlier? I demand to know what secret you¡¯ve hidden from me!¡± ¡°Know your place! I will tell you nothing.¡± The rope vibrated violently, and as it did, it sent a jolt through the pi?ata. The flapping rainbow ribbon that had been causing so much noise was now caught¡ªbarely¡ªby the cat''s sudden movement. It flitted and made even louder whirring sounds for a second. No! Then, the rope acted as a counterbalance, finally stabilizing the out-of-control ribbons. Yes! Congratulations! [QUEST COMPLETED¡ªStop the Rainbow Ribbons from Flapping Too Loudly] Reward: 1 EXP, +2 STR, and a brand new pair of socks ¡°If you insist, Dad,¡± Lena¡¯s voice was borderline choking. ¡°I guess we are no longer family.¡± Yes! Yes yes yes! I¡¯ve completed the quest! I¡¯ve achieved the unachiveable! ¡°Do as you wish.¡± The sound of footsteps resounded as Anders walked away, and Lena¡¯s stifled sobs. ¡°Mr. Woodywise. We can talk¡ª¡± Rob spoke, but Anders had already slammed the door on his way out. Hooray! This is the best day of my life! Then Lena collapsed onto the floor, bawling. Oh, right. I forgot. How¡¯s the argument going again? Rob¡¯s voice rang out. ¡°You look a bit sick. I¡¯ll make you chicken soup.¡± With that, Rob left the room. Only then did Blorbo¡¯s attention turned to Lena¡¯s crying form. She was hugging her entire face in her arm, hiccuping as she cried. What the hell happened? Why is she in this state? Wait. Lena also had a question mark on her head. It didn¡¯t glow golden. It was a dull grey. He clicked on the quest. [QUEST: Keep the Family Intact¡ªExpired] Objective: Prevent the Imminent Breakdown of the Oakward family Reward: +100 EXP, +10 HP, +10 MP, +10 STR, +10 END, +10 PER, +10 AGI, +10 CP Prerequisite: None Failure: Anders leaves. Lena¡¯s morale -100. Oh. I didn¡¯t notice this quest existed. Then the system overrode that screen with a notification. Congratulations! Please pick your favorite pair of socks.
Name Blorbo
Race Animated Furniture (Table)
Class None
Level 2
EXP 22/50
HP 6/15
MP 2
CP 0
STR 6 (+2)
END 16
AGI 18
PER 13
Skills Appraisal (Level 1) Adjustable Angle (2 Degrees) Opportunity Sense (Level 1) Surface Agitation (Level 1) Synchronized Sitting (Level 1) Massive Leap Under Duress (Conditional)
Aura Useless Gloved Fool (Permanent)
Chapter 19: The morally sound path always pays absolute garbage Lena alternated between sniffing and outright bawling for the next minutes, even after Rob had helped her sit on the chair, pulled the table close and placed the wonderfully-smelling chicken soup in front of her. Blorbo couldn¡¯t quite shake the discomfort that had been gnawing at him since the emotional scene between Lena and Anders. But he was Blorbo, after all¡ªthe table of legend. It wasn¡¯t his place to dwell on emotions. I mean¡­ what¡¯s done is done. We can concentrate on getting that mage power amped up, yeah yeah? You and me, Lena. You can become the strongest mage in all the lands, and I can gain some stats. Suddenly¡­ TWO new quests appeared before him. [NEW QUEST: Amend the Wrongs] Objective: Help mend the rift in the family by reconciling Lena and Anders. Automatically fails upon the acceptance of [The Adventure of the Lonely Mage] Reward: 10 CP, Lena¡¯s morale +90 Failure: The family fractures completely Accept: Yes/No and [NEW QUEST: The Adventure of the Lonely Mage] Objective: Ditch the farmer life. Burn your bridges and abandon your family to become the strongest mage adventurer in the land. Automatically fails upon the acceptance of [The Adventure of the Lonely Mage] Reward: +10 STR, +10 MP, +5 CP, the Epic Staff of the Broken Shell Failure: An adventurer doesn¡¯t fail. Are you scared or something? Accept: Yes/No Ah, yes. The classic choice. The morally sound path that pays absolutely garbage, or the path of power, self-determination, and an Epic staff. I can finally leave the world of vegetables and become someone worthy of greatness! Or maybe I can just not accept either of the quests and let destiny takes the wheel. Wait. Destiny is the System. Nah, maybe not. I must strive for greatness! Blorbo was about to pick the second quest. But just as he was about to accept the quest, something stopped him. ¡°It¡¯s going to be fine, dear,¡± Rob¡¯s soothing, cooing voice rang out behind him. ¡°I won¡¯t let anything happen to you.¡± He saw Rob, his hands on Lena¡¯s shoulders, trying to console her. Her face was scrunched in quiet tears, but Rob kept patting on her back nonetheless. Even the cat Tabby seemed sympathizing, as he walked over and lightly rubbed Lena¡¯s leg. Are you for real, Blorbo? What are you doing? He had watched the family for weeks now, observed how they cared for each other. Sure, maybe his decisions wouldn¡¯t matter in the grand schemes of things, but¡­ I sure as heck couldn¡¯t have done much to help them, but... I can¡¯t be so heartless to add insult to injury. Not after everything. He quietly willed himself to click on the first option. [QUEST ACCEPTED: Amend the Wrongs] Now he¡¯d gone and done it. He¡¯d accepted the quest. He felt a great sense of relief, as if an enormous weight had been lifted off his shoulder. As if he had dodged a red flag. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. But what the hell was he supposed to do now? He wasn¡¯t exactly a relationship expert. He barely knew what a hug was, let alone how to fix a father-daughter dispute. But he couldn¡¯t just sit here, could he? No, action was needed. Think, Blorbo, think¡­ As he was thinking, he accidentally leaned too hard to the side. The cat was walking past at the exact moment, and it jumped at the sudden movement. Its jump created ripples the air that pushed the pi?ata around. As the pi?ata swung, it ripped the ribbons off the rope, and the ribbons started flapping again. Lena, still sniffling, looked up at the ribbon with a confused expression. Her lips quivered slightly. She sniffed, and then chuckled quietly. ¡°Look what I¡¯ve gone and done,¡± she said. ¡°That pi?ata looks horrific. I¡¯ll be a terrible mage.¡± Rob didn¡¯t reply. Lena sighed. ¡°What does it matter if I can cast spells? I¡¯m perfectly happy with this life, with my own little farm, my own little cat¡­¡± She ran a hand up Rob¡¯s messy, slightly greasy hair. ¡°And my own perfect man. Maybe dad knows what¡¯s good for me after all.¡± ¡°He shouldn¡¯t have said that to you, nonetheless,¡± Rob replied with a calm smile. ¡°He¡¯s not known for his good-temper, Robert. But he¡¯s not a bad man.¡± ¡°Well then now he¡¯s gotten time to calm down, he should be able to hold a conversation like a mature adult.¡± Rob¡¯s smile faded as he wiped the last tear from Lena¡¯s cheek. ¡°I¡¯m not going to let this sit,¡± he muttered under his breath, his eyes sharpening with resolve. Lena, now breathing more evenly, looked up at him. ¡°Rob, don¡¯t go after him.¡± But Rob simply stood up, eyes locked on the door. His voice now burned with fury rarely heard from him. ¡°I¡¯m going after him.¡± Rob strode toward the door. ¡°Lena... stay here. I¡¯ll be back.¡± Lena opened her mouth to protest, but Rob was already gone. Wait. What just happened? Did I do anything? Oh yeah. I haven¡¯t chosen my pair of socks. Blorbo¡¯s mind flicked back to the notification about his reward for completing the quest. [Congratulations! Please pick your favorite pair of socks.] The options were the darker-colored ones, the wooden-colored ones, and the brightly-colored ones. None of them gave any extra stats of boon. Fine. I¡¯ll pick the wooden-colored socks. They would blend in better. The socks materialized¡ªhuman-sized, completely out of thin air, landing perfectly onto his wooden surface. They were just the right size... for a human, not a table. I have four legs. FOUR! Why did you only give me two? Heavy footsteps echoed through the door, but only from one pair of feet. So Rob¡¯s returned. Empty-handed. But nope. The door opened, and it was Rob AND Anders. The old man¡¯s expression was still tight with frustration, but there was a calmer air about him. Both his shoulders and his ever-present frown were less rigid. [Detection Failed. PER too low to detect footsteps.] He pointed at the table, his tone as firm as ever. ¡°Everyone, sit. I¡¯m going to tell you what you need to know.¡± Lena looked at Rob, a wary glint in her eyes, but she nodded and slowly made her way to the table. Rob stood by her side, hugging the sides of her shoulders. Once everyone was seated, Anders took a slow breath as he narrowed his eyes. He raised his hand and began to chant. ¡°Tsi-i-ho-ya-te, nva-hi-wi-lo, ta-li-na-u-do¡­¡± the chant echoed through the room again and again even though the actual volume of the sound was really small. The words rolled out in a language that felt earthy, if there was any word that could describe it. As Anders¡¯ chant reached its final syllable, he extended his hand toward a¡­ staff that appeared out of thin air. Rob and Lena gasped. Damn! Why wasn¡¯t I reincarnated as a mage?! Come on. That was cool as heck! The staff itself was long and twisted, carved from some wood that was even darker than Elviswood. At its tip, there was a comically gigantic crystal that looked like it had been weathered by time, though it was clearly powerful. None of them seemed particularly flashy, but they surely didn¡¯t look ordinary. Anders pointed the staff toward the pi?ata, which had been swinging slightly with the echoes of their conversation. The ribbons, still floating in mid-air, the glitter still suspended from the burst of magic earlier, all frozen in time. The air held its breath for a moment. Then, in an instant¡ªnothing happened. No explosion of light, no dramatic flare of crazy magic. Just silence. The pi?ata, the ribbons, the glitter, and even the sound of the flapping ribbons had disappeared. Anders lowered his staff, his voice cold and calm. ¡°That was a reversal spell. Nothing more.¡± Lena stuttered, her mouth was still half open. ¡°A-are you a mage?¡± Anders gave a short, bitter laugh. ¡°I was an archmage.¡±
Name Blorbo
Race Animated Furniture (Table)
Class None
Level 2
EXP 22/50
HP 6/15
MP 2
CP 0
STR 6 (+2)
END 16
AGI 18
PER 13
Skills Appraisal (Level 1) Adjustable Angle (2 Degrees) Opportunity Sense (Level 1) Surface Agitation (Level 1) Synchronized Sitting (Level 1) Massive Leap Under Duress (Conditional)
Aura Useless Gloved Fool (Permanent)
Inventory A Pair of Wooden-Colored Socks
Chapter 20: That sounds so sad. Anyway, when are you gonna teach us some spells? Lena¡¯s mouth hung open even wider. ¡°A-archmage? That¡¯s like mage, but arch right?¡± Are you even hearing yourself, Lena? This woman has absolutely NO knowledge about magery, and wants to become a mage? Scoff scoff. ¡°Archmage is a mage of the highest order, Lena,¡± Rob said, deadpan. ¡°Wow!¡± Anders¡¯ brows furrowed. ¡°Why are you looking at me like it¡¯s an impossibility? It¡¯s not like I¡¯m a moving table.¡± Does that confirm my suspicion? That Magery can be a hereditary thing? That Lena is an unsuspecting mage because her father was also a mage? It would make sense for magery to be genetic seeing how magic randomly popped up in some people without training. Like it¡¯s embedded in their inner code. Rob also couldn¡¯t contain the shock in his voice. ¡°Like the Grandmaster Archmage of Americana?¡± ¡°Bah!¡± Anders waved his hand. ¡°Do not compare me to that pompous, insufferable codger! I should¡¯ve been in his place.¡± ¡°Then why are you here?¡± Rob asked. ¡°Why do you think?¡± He¡¯s committed a crime. ¡°You¡¯ve committed a crime.¡± Lena said. Jinx! Anders nodded. ¡°Crime has a price, even if it¡¯s justified or not. And that price follows me¡­ and my bloodline.¡± That sounds so sad. Anyway, when are you gonna teach us some spells? Nobody said anything. Anders¡¯ expression hardened like chiseled stone. ¡°It is my duty to protect. Therefore, as long as I¡¯m here, I would like to see no magic in this house. Ever.¡± Oh c¡¯mon! An archmage banning magic is like a swordsman cutting off his own arm! ¡°But¡ª¡± ¡°There will be no negotiation. It is for your own safety.¡± Lena¡¯s mouth opened and closed, searching for words. ¡°You¡¯re literally an archmage. And you want me to just¡ªwhat? Pretend magic doesn¡¯t exist?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°No!¡± Anders slammed on the table. ¡°If you want to learn magic so much, don¡¯t let me catch you doing it! See how good you are at hiding!¡± [-5 HP] Ouch! Why is this household so violent? Blorbo¡¯s entire frame trembled as his HP dropped dangerously low. [HP: 2/15] Hell no, I am actually going to die during a family dispute. All it would take was one more slap, or one more kick, or Lena aggressively setting down a mug too hard, and he¡¯d be reduced to firewood. The reality of his fragile existence sank in like a plate dropped into a kitchen sink. It wasn¡¯t just annoying. It was a predicament. How many times had he held back because of his terrible HP cap? How often had he avoided risk because one strong gust of wind might send him into the afterlife? And worst of all? He could die at any moment just from normal household activities. How am I going to fix this? Barely any quest gives HP, and levelling up is tedious for minimal HP gain. A quest suddenly showed up above Rob¡¯s head. He clicked on it.

[NEW QUEST: The Art of Deflection] Objective: Avoid damage perfectly by leaning or shaking at the exact moment an impact is about to land. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Reward: + 3 EXP; +5 HP (Permanent!); +3 STR NEW RARE PASSIVE SKILL: Retribution Counter (Level I) The bane of table offensive. Whenever you take physical damage, your table legs automatically use STR to push back against the source of impact, forcing the attacker to FEEL THE PAIN while protecting your HP. Prerequisite: Current HP to be 3 or lower. Failure: You get hit. And probably die. Accept: Yes/No Blorbo gawked at the quest details. A rare passive skill?! His first rare skill ever! And it was exactly what he needed! No longer would he be a helpless victim of everyday domestic VIOLENCE. And the skill was actually OP. If Retribution Counter worked the way he thought it would work, his current 6 STR could¡¯ve blocked the entire 5 damage of the attack earlier while handling a sweet sweet justice of the remaining 1 damage to his attacker. If only he wasn¡¯t going to die as soon as he fail to complete the mission¡­ But such was a day in the life of Blorbo. He was probably going to die sooner or later if the quest hadn¡¯t shown up, so might as well attempt to die now than later. Blorbo slammed Accept faster than Lena could say "But¡ª" [QUEST ACCEPTED: The Art of Deflection] He had a mission now: Dodge. Avoid. Deflect. Counter. He watched Anders carefully, waiting for the next attack. If that old man so much as raised his scrawny hands again, Blorbo was going to time this perfectly. ¡°You want me to believe,¡± Lena fumed, ¡°that a Mage Order or whatever it¡¯s called, full of spellcasters, researchers, and magical scholars would actually be scared of one girl with a stupidly small wand?¡± ¡°It is not called the Mage Order. Anders growled. ¡°It is called the EMRCAR!¡± ¡°The what?¡± Lena blinked. ¡°Esteemed and Most Righteous Congregation of Arcane Regulators, Keepers of the Grand Mystical Balance, and Sole Proprietors of Legally Sanctioned Wizardry.¡± ¡°That¡¯s ridi¡ªcough¡ªculous.¡± ¡°Do not call it ridiculous. I helped name the Sole Proprietors part!¡± Anders stood and raised his hand. Oh! He¡¯s about to strike! Blorbo activated Adjustable Angle, trying to lean at just the right angle to deflect the strike. But it was too difficult! His hands slapping down was too quick, and the surface area was too wide to cover! But I have to lean, or I¡¯ll die! He¡¯s too quick. I don¡¯t want to die. Must¡­ Lean¡­ Harder! Arrrrrggghhhhh! ¡°Then¡ª¡± Lena stood too. But in the process, accidentally kicked the table in frustration. And by sheer luck, Blorbo leaned at the exact moment of impact.

[SYSTEM CHECK: Deflection Timing¡­ SUCCESS!] [Retribution Counter Activated!] Lena¡¯s foot collided with his leg, but at precisely the same moment, Blorbo moved just slightly, enough to completely redirect the force. Lena¡¯s own force bounced back at her. ¡°GAH!¡± She yanked her foot back, clutching her ankle. ¡°What the hell?!¡± Wait. Did I just counter Lena? How did I even time that? [QUEST PROGRESS: The Art of Deflection ¡ª 1/1 Successful Deflections] [QUEST COMPLETE!] [REWARD GRANTED: +3 EXP, +5 HP (New Max: 20 HP), +3 STR] [RARE PASSIVE SKILL UNLOCKED: RETRIBUTION COUNTER (Level I)] I countered 97 STR? How was that even possible? Is it because she didn¡¯t really pay attention, so the STR she applied was much weaker than her maximum level? Anders¡¯ hand stopped mid-air. ¡°See? You¡¯re already hurting yourself with magic you don¡¯t understand. If you¡¯re this jumpy, you can¡¯t become a Stealth Mage ever. Forget about it.¡± Nobody has said anything about Stealth Mage? Hello? ¡°That wasn¡¯t magic! That was¡ª¡± Lena scowled. ¡°You know what? Forget it. I¡¯ll not practice magery.¡± She clenched her fists under the table. ¡°I¡¯ll return the wand tomorrow. Does that make you happy, Dad?¡± ¡°That will suffice,¡± Anders replied. She is SO going to practice magery. Nobody said another word as the night ended unceremoniously.
Name Blorbo
Race Animated Furniture (Table)
Class None
Level 2
EXP 25/50
HP 11/20
MP 2
CP 0
STR 9 (+3)
END 16
AGI 18
PER 13
Skills Appraisal (Level 1) Adjustable Angle (2 Degrees) Opportunity Sense (Level 1) Surface Agitation (Level 1) Synchronized Sitting (Level 1) Massive Leap Under Duress (Conditional) Retribution Counter (Level 1)
Aura Useless Gloved Fool (Permanent)
Inventory A Pair of Wooden-Colored Socks
Chapter 21: It’s ridiculous how kale is considered a luxury for the nobles, while cabbage is not The morning sun spilled lazily across the market square. It didn¡¯t seem to ever rain in the Township of Iakesi, almost as if the town was set in a book and the author of said book just recycled scenery descriptions because he was too lazy to invent weather fluctuations. ¡°I heard Marza sold that Elviswood table for a fortune,¡± the woman in front of her said as her hand shuffled through the pile of cabbage, lowering her voice to a whisper full of intrigue. ¡°What? That table wasn¡¯t even hers,¡± Lena mouthed. ¡°Also that one is a good-tasting one. That one you¡¯re holding.¡± ¡°If a table drops from the sky, destroys your stall, and no-one claims it, safe to say it¡¯s yours,¡± the customer replied. I¡¯m more surprised by the fact that Master Bimbleton didn¡¯t try to retrieve that table right away, Blorbo thought. Or maybe he was the buyer. ¡°Huh? And who paid a fortune for an angry table?¡± Lena asked. ¡°Oh, some eccentric noble in the capital,¡± the woman said, waving her hand dramatically. ¡°But that¡¯s not the interesting part.¡± The woman leaned in, her excitement barely contained. ¡°With all that gold, Marza went out and bought herself a carriage full of curly kale.¡± Lena paused mid-hand gesture, and her eyes were filled with a fire of hatred. ¡°Curly kale?!¡± ¡°A whole carriage.¡± Lena blinked. ¡°And then what?¡± ¡°She¡¯s now the posh curly kale seller at the town bazaar.¡± A moment of silence. Lena finally exhaled through her nose, gritted her teeth, and shook her head. ¡°You know, it¡¯s ridiculous how kale is considered a luxury for the nobles, while cabbage is not.¡± You grit your teeth at that, woman? You didn¡¯t once grit your teeth throughout your entire argument with the old man last night! Another round of useless kale-related chatter ensued, and the woman walked away. It was now the afternoon, and Blorbo had been waiting for that exciting encounter with the hooded mage with the funny accent that never came. He didn¡¯t even set up shop today. It had been a busy day. Customers had come and gone, the cabbage pile dwindled, and the market had buzzed with pointless kale-related discourse, but Blorbo remained deeply, deeply disappointed. Lena never once pulled out the wand. Not once. What was she so scared of? What was the worst that could happen? At worst, she¡¯d decorate the entire marketplace with pi?atas and confetti explosions¡ªand if anything, that would probably increase sales. Blorbo would actually wanted to see what the commoners¡¯ reactions to actual magic would be, since there was so much of this world he had yet to know about. Instead, she¡¯d spent the entire day selling cabbage like a responsible adult. Boring. By the time the market was quiet, with only a few stragglers wandering past, Lena finally reached into her pocket and pulled out the ridiculously tiny wand. She held it in her palm, staring at it for the longest time as her thumb traced its absurdly small form. Yes. Do it. Do something. Wreak havoc upon the world. Then, a hand appeared on the table, atop the cabbages. A gloved hand¡ªno, a double-gloved hand¡ªno, wait¡­ He had four gloves on one hand again. Lena looked up at him and blinked once. ¡°Ah-ha!¡± The four-gloved mage spread his arms wide. ¡°You hold it at last!¡± Blorbo¡¯s wooden nerves bristled. Finally. Something interesting. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. His silver-threaded eyes shone beneath the hood like lanterns. ¡°Zere are many who would seek such a thing, cabbage mongress.¡± He tapped a finger to his temple, then pointed dramatically at her. ¡°And you? You sit upon it like a dragon upon a hoard!¡± Lena blinked. ¡°I literally just took it out. What are you¡ª¡± ¡°Silence!¡± He raised a single gloved hand. Then, for absolutely no reason at all, he removed that glove to reveal another glove. Ah. Here we go again. Lena rubbed her temples, already exhausted. ¡°Okay, no. No. You keep showing up, talking in riddles, and layering yourself like an onion. Why do you care so much?¡± The four-gloved mage gasped, clutching his own chest as though she had mortally wounded him. ¡°Why do I¡ª? Pourquoi?!¡± His voice wavered with theatrical devastation. ¡°You wound me again, mongress! I am but a humble servant of fate! A mere conduit of destiny!¡± Lena stared at him. The mage stared back. She sighed. ¡°Alright, then. Who are you really?¡± Oooh! Who is he? Is he an archmage? I bet he¡¯s an archmage. The mage grinned, and his silver-threaded eyes glinted as if light travelled across his eyes. ¡°Ah. You ask ze right question at last.¡± Then, in a tone heavy with the strain of immense and dreadful responsibilities, he declared, ¡°I am a banker.¡± Blorbo had never been more disappointed in his life. ¡°... I can¡¯t deal with this two days in a row.¡± Lena ran a hand down her face. A quest popped up on the mage¡¯s head with the same comical timing as it¡¯d always had. Blorbo checked the details.

[NEW QUEST: An Act of Petty Rebellion] Objective: Steal a glove from the hands of the Keeper of Arcane Liquidity. Reward: +2 AGI, +1 CP, and a Basic-level Glove. Prerequisite: None. Failure: None. Accept: Yes/No Damn. This quest sucks! Suddenly, something showed up. [Would you like a reroll? Normally, this function costs 5 CP. But the first one is on the house.] A reroll? The system gives second chances now? Also a reroll costs 5 times more CP than the potential reward. So much for risk-reward balances. If he had been a more careful, strategic, forward-thinking table, he might have considered saving this free reroll for a more useful moment. Hell yeah, I¡¯m rerolling. He willed Yes without hesitation. The quest blinked out of existence, only to be immediately replaced by another.

[NEW QUEST: The Grand Glove Gambit]

Objective: Steal ALL of the Keeper of Arcane Liquidity¡¯s gloves. Reward: +3 AGI, +2 CP, and a Beginner-level Glove Prerequisite: None. Failure: He puts on more gloves. Accept: Yes/No Blorbo internally screamed. WHY DID I THINK THIS WOULD BE ANY BETTER? He chose No. Only then did his perception kicked in, and he refocused just in time to catch the end of the conversation. ¡°I will train in the ways of Arcane Liquidity,¡± Lena said with a steely resolve. Wait. What? What did I miss? ¡°Ah! Exzellent!¡± The four-gloved mage clapped his hands together, and the fabric made a soft, muffled fwump. ¡°You are making ze right choice, mongress! We start tomorrow at dawn!¡± ¡°¡­ Tomorrow?¡± Lena frowned. ¡°I never said¡ª¡± But the mage had glided away again. Lena slapped her forehead. ¡°How am I going to explain to Rob that I don¡¯t need a cart of cabbage tomorrow?¡± Don¡¯t explain to him. Explain to me. Explain to me! What the hell did you do, Lena? WHAT DID YOU DO! How did you go from cabbage seller to banker of the magical realm?
Name Blorbo
Race Animated Furniture (Table)
Class None
Level 2
EXP 25/50
HP 15/20
MP 2
CP 0
STR 9
END 16
AGI 18
PER 13
Skills Appraisal (Level 1) Adjustable Angle (2 Degrees) Opportunity Sense (Level 1) Surface Agitation (Level 1) Synchronized Sitting (Level 1) Massive Leap Under Duress (Conditional) Retribution Counter (Level 1)
Aura Useless Gloved Fool (Permanent)
Inventory A Pair of Wooden-Colored Socks