Chapter 9

Outside the tree, Leon caught up with Hert.

“What do you think is down there? Except for the stone.”

“No idea. But it didn’t give off a great feeling, that’s for sure.”

“So why do you want to return, just to search for some stone? I mean, it will probably be dangerous, right?”

Hert shook his head. “I’ve been chasing this rumor for months. There’s just no way I’ll give up now that I know there’s a place where it might be.”

“What’s with the obsession?” Leon asked. “Is it something you’re programmed to do, or some secret agenda?”

Hert snorted and stopped to look at Leon. “The system? Why would the system have anything to do with—” He paused. “Forgot you’re new.” Hert turned toward him and stretched out a big, calloused hand. “Hi, I’m Hert. A level 5 player with profession blacksmith.”

Leon’s mouth fell open. “You’re a player? But you have a shop!”

“Ah, there’s so much you don’t know.” Hert let his hand fall to his side and continued walking. “Doesn’t matter if you’re a player or NPC, you can take on normal jobs here, just like in the world of the living. Some people prefer that rather than to test the tower. Of course, we all have to enter the tower if we level up enough, but that cements the fact that a part of us chooses not to.

“From what I’ve heard, those who level up and survive the quest to clear the first floor usually stop trying to go further and settle to do other jobs in Pura. The people who clear even the tenth floor are monsters. Can’t compete with that. So, we stick to helping those who might have a chance to clear the tower and live our lives to the fullest while we can. I happened to have some affinity for blacksmithing. Most people just take their chances to live a life that was robbed off of them when they were forced to leave the real world.”

Leon bit his cheek. If it ever got out that he’d entered the game by choice, a lot of people would probably scorn him. Better keep that information hidden. “So you’ve never visited the tower? Why are you after the stone, then?”

“Because the tower is indestructible. Just think of what you could do with such material!” Hert’s eyes gleamed at the prospect.

“But you’ve never dreamed of going back to the real world?”

“Of course I have. I died and left my family behind, and I want to get back to them. But it’s impossible. So, I’ve settled to live here. I’ve been in the game for two years, and I can enjoy five more before I disappear. It’s been a decently good time so far.”

Leon shook his head. “But then you’re gone, forever. And three players have actually made it back. Just before I died.”

“I was supposed to be gone forever two years ago. I snatched the chance to live a little longer. Besides, the three you’re talking about were legendary. How did you know what—” Hert bit his tongue. “Never mind. I don’t want to know anything about them. It will only spark hope that’s fruitless. All three were mages, and I think that’s the only class that can actually beat the tower. A tank like me can’t. Simple as that.”

They reached the edge of the forest, and Leon stopped.

“You coming?” Hert asked, waving him toward the arch.

“I have some farming to do. I’ll accept the quest later tonight, so let’s meet up tomorrow.”

“Right-o. Don’t forget to look for others who can join us.”

Leon raised a hand in goodbye and held up his sword. If only he’d taken out the dagger instead… He shook his head. Nothing to do about that now. Whatever experience he could gain was worth it, and if he got drops from beasts, he’d collect them in a pile to bring with him when he was finished. With some dedication, he’d get to level 4 in no time.

*****

An hour later, he stumbled out of the forest, holding his leg with a hand. It bled profusely, and the pressure he put on it didn’t help at all, so he pulled his hand away and moved the wolf’s fang he’d collected from the battle to it. The other two fangs had disappeared—without a holding item, he couldn’t store them, and as Ai said and Leon forgot, discarded items from looting couldn’t be picked up again.

The small pile had disappeared, and the system only allowed him to carry two items, and only because he had two hands. Leon couldn’t even store them in his clothes because they lacked pockets, and probably still not if the pockets lacked a holding attribute. He’d met two level 1 wolves and one level 2 wolf, but he was only 9% on his way to level 4. The bleeding came from the last attack of the level 2 wolf, so his HP was still high. But the sooner he got to the inn, the better.

Leon ambled toward the gate and the groups around the ramshackle buildings shied away from him, the blood, and his drawn wooden sword as he entered. At least he wouldn’t get stopped too many times before he’d managed to limp to his bed. He rounded the corner into the plaza where he bought his now lost dagger when one of the Scabs approached him.

It was a young woman who wore a frayed jute dress that barely reached her knees and that was held by a rope around her too-thin waist. The rope also held a leather purse big enough to carry an apple, not much more. Her hair was a mellow red mop tied into a loose sprawling bun, and her brown eyes shone over a round nose and thin lips. Jute fabric covered her feet and was bound to her ankles with the same type of brown rope as around her waist. She blended in perfectly with the other Scabs, except that she didn’t stay away.

“Um…” She cleared her throat. “Sir, I can heal you.” Her voice was a mousy whisper, barely audible. She wrung her hands and looked down on the cobbled street. “If you want to.”

A text box showed up.

Will you give one coin? [Yes] [Ignore]

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Leon thought about it. He had enough HP left to get to sleep in his bed, but he’d have to walk a little quicker. “Ignore.”

“No!” the girl wailed. “Please?” She caught his arm and almost pulled him to the ground.

Leon yelped at the stab of pain in his leg and tried to shake her off. “Sorry, but I don’t want the Beggar’s Curse. It would probably set in before you managed to do anything.”

The girl looked at the ground with a reddening face. “Oh. Right.” She licked her lips and looked up at him with pleading eyes. “Then, anything else? Anything at all? Only giving coins to someone with the Scab title will start it.”

Leon glanced at the wolf’s fang in his hand and stretched it forward. “Will this do?” He still didn’t know what it would be worth, but considering the drop rate it had from the wolves he’d encountered, it couldn’t be much.

The girl almost drooled but held herself back from snatching it. She let him go, stared into the ground, and gave a short nod.

“Then, how do we do this?”

She mumbled something, and a box appeared.

Will you give one wolf’s fang in exchange for healing? [Yes] [Ignore]

“Yes.”

She stretched out her hand and put the wolf’s fang into the pouch by her waist, then she straightened her back, took a deep breath, and put her hands over his wound, mumbling, “Sorry, without a staff, I can only do this while touching you.”

A faint green light emanated from around her fingers, and a soft warmth spread over Leon’s skin.

A notification popped up. ’You are being healed and will regain 25 missing HP. Your bleeding has stopped.’

A few minutes later, she backed away on wobbly feet, took a step back, and landed sitting on the stones.

Leon looked from his healed wound to her. “Hey, are you alright? You look like you’re about to faint!”

“I’m—” She held a hand in front of her mouth and bent over like she was about to hurl. She took several small breaths. “I’m fine.”

“I’m grateful, but why put yourself through this for a wolf’s fang? Is it worth it?”

The blush in her cheeks got sharper because of the paleness of her skin. “We do what we can. The NPCs don’t feel hunger like we do, but—”

“Wait, you’re a player? What are you doing in the Slums?”

She shrugged and tried to rise, but gave up and landed on the street again. “I’m a level 2 Cleric. Useless.”

Leon didn’t say it, but from most games he’d played, being useless was almost true. To most players. “At least you can heal.”

She shook her head. “This dropped my mana to 2. I can only do this once a day, and that’s if I can get some sleep.” Her face reddened more as if she felt like she’d said something she shouldn’t. “Anyway, you should get going. This isn’t a nice place to linger.”

Leon didn’t listen. “Are there more Clerics here? In the Slums?”

“I don’t know. It’s said there’s a 20% chance to get any of the five classes, but that’s not true at all. About 5% of the players who come to Gaitol get my class. The unlucky few.”

Leon racked his brain. This might not be so bad, but could he actually do it? In the long run, it could benefit them both. “Hey, are you okay to walk? I have a proposition. And an idea, if it suits you.”

She looked up with a frown. “What?”

“Come with me, and I’ll tell you. If you don’t want anything to do with it, you’d at least get a hot meal for free.”

She jumped up and wobbled so much Leon sprinted forward to steady her shoulder. “I can always hear you out.”

They continued through the street, with her leaning on Leon’s arm. As they approached the gate, the guards pointed their weapons.

“No Scabs can pass through here.”

“She’s worse off, but she’s a player,” Leon said.

“Eh, let ’em through. If it’s a Scab she’ll die anyway,” the other one said.

“But we’d need to clean up the mess,” the first guard pointed out.

The second one pulled back his weapon and Leon and the girl passed. A red light shone in waves as they passed under the arch, but after a few seconds, the waves turned green.

“You see? Even the system got confused.”

Leon ignored them as the guards debated back and forth.

“That was scary,” the girl said. “I’m glad I was with you.”

Leon peered behind his shoulder. The arch had turned back to normal. “Why do they even need guards when the arch scans you anyway?”

The girl swallowed. “Because of people like me, and other players. The system can mark you with the title ’Scab’ if you don’t have anything, but players can always try to change that. A player needs money or an item to pass through the gate, but sometimes you’re denied access if you’ve been a Scab long enough. If you’re a player, the system won’t kill you, but give you a nasty shock that kicks you back. Because of the risk of us being pickpockets or what-not. I think I only got through because of you. But it has happened that bad players with good standing have gone into the Slums for some ’fun’ and then try to enter the arch with an NPC Scab to do… well… favors for them. The system doesn’t like that, so the guards are a fail-safe.” Her voice had gone hoarse from all the talking.

Still, Leon couldn’t help but ask, “How long have you been a Scab? And how long in the game?”

She swallowed. “I died a year ago, and I’ve been a Scab for about eleven months.”

Leon stopped, almost making her stumble. “Eleven months? How is that possible?”

“It’s hard to live in the Slums, and as a Cleric,” was all she said.

Her stomach growled as they entered the plaza and they passed the fountain, but she still insisted on visiting the crafting merchant before they went into The Drowned Goblin. A wolf’s fang gave her three coins, and she couldn’t have looked happier.

Leon walked into the inn, and she followed. Margaret looked up at him and smiled, but it faltered when she saw the woman in rags. She hurried out from behind the counter and pulled Leon to the side.

“I didn’t think you were that sort of man,” she said in an outraged voice. “How did she get past the guards? We don’t allow—”

“She’s a player, Margaret. She’s just down on her luck, and I don’t intend to take advantage of that. You have my word.”

“So, are you going to pay for her lodgings?”

He hadn’t thought about that. So, he changed the subject. “I’d like to order her a meal. And one for me, too.”

Margaret crossed her arms over her big bosom and looked him up and down. “You’re not coming into the dining area looking like that. Neither will she.”

“Do you have anywhere where I can wipe myself off? And maybe a spare piece of clothing for her?”

Margaret tapped with a finger on her arm. “You can wash off in the first room on the first floor. As for clothes…” She peered at the woman out of the corner of her eye. The woman scratched her cheek with a fingernail but was still as pale as if she was about to faint. “I don’t run a charity, and I don’t want my reputation tarnished.”

Leon straightened his back. “Well, don’t you need someone to help you wash dishes? That’s partly why I brought her here. I don’t think she’d mind if you don’t.”

She bit her lip. “Well…”

“You get help and give some help. It’s a perfect solution.”

She shook her head. “Well, alright then. As long as she works well and without complaining.”

“First, I’d like her to eat something, though. I pay for that meal,” Leon said. He waved the woman over. “This is Margaret.”

The woman stretched out a shaking hand. “I’m Ava.”

Margaret didn’t take it. Instead, she turned to Leon with a raised eyebrow. “She eats in the kitchen.” Then she stomped off.

Ava looked from her to Leon. “I’m sorry. I knew this would happen. I’ll leave now.”

“Hold on,” Leon said. “I just got you a job. I still have a proposition, but this was part of why I brought you here. It’s 5 coins for each night that you help wash the dishes.”

“What?” Ava’s chin dropped and her brow furrowed.

“Unless you don’t want it?”

Ava threw herself in his arms, but the effort caused her to slump from exhaustion.

Leon steadied her with a hand. “You sure you can handle working tonight?”

Ava patted her skeletal arm, flexing. “Yes! Well, after a meal.”

“If it’s okay, I’d like to talk to you when you’ve finished for today.”

Ava nodded and trotted after Margaret into the kitchen.

“Hold on, accept the quest first!” Leon shouted after her.