Cassiopeia knew more than an average person, or at least pretended to know, and if she pretended, she knew how to construct her arguments very well. When it came to Westland, she had the answer to everything that was necessary to understand how to live, grow, and, most importantly, avoid dying. Her words filled with parables gave her a pedagogical presence, and perhaps she was, but I didn't delve into that matter. The main points we focused on were the economy, politics, and the role of each individual in the city's grand performance wheel.
"So, you mean to say that we are really cannon fodder for the Elfs?"
"Understand, John, we were created for this moment. Our battle has no end; a large part of the people here are more concerned with not dying than fulfilling any objective they had in mind."
"But what about Gildor's promise? Doesn't anyone care about what brought them here?"
"We all have sad stories and have gone through unimaginable things. But difficulties are like mountains. They only flatten when we advance upon them. Most of those here look at this hostile and dangerous environment and cower; those who try and fail are the majority, and those who survive are the exception. In a world where dying is the rule, it makes sense to be a coward. It helps you last longer."
"But if it leads to nothing, why do you keep going into the dungeon? Wouldn't it be better to simply close it and leave it alone?"
"That's the problem. We can't. If it's not cleared regularly, creatures accumulate and force their way out. This discovery was made in the worst possible way. So, the obligation to clear it exists, and there's nothing we can do about it. We know it's impossible to win this war, but we'll try to delay it as much as possible."
As I understood our calling, my perception of the place sharpened, and all the questions that had vague answers made sense, after all. How do you make someone enter a lost war? You would have to be desperate. But deep down, we were what we were; desperate. Our selection had no technical or philosophical foundations. We weren't naturally gifted at anything; we were people with a dream and willing to do anything to achieve it. And we were destined to fight for maintenance, not victory.
Cass told me that there had been attempts, but they all failed. When, in desperation, everyone gathered to destroy a dungeon at the cost of much blood and countless deaths, what followed was a dungeon being born from the destroyed one, but this time, twice as strong. On that day, they experienced the despair of being in the wrong war with the wrong weapon, the wrong clothes, and no ammunition. What was created was an overwhelming fear of leveling up because, as ironic and illogical as it may seem, there was a reason for it.
"When we reach level 9, we can become citizens and leave the guild. That's what most people do. A level 9 has difficulty fighting an Elder Guardian alone, let alone the creatures on the other floors. We know we're in the weakest region, so most people are apprehensive about what lies in the stronger regions. The D-level dungeon shows how insignificant a person can be."
The hierarchy in Westland was, to the best of its ability, well-managed, and the division between the guild and the citizens was unique. Like in Hoplite or Athenian policies, only those who went through the trials of the dungeons and prevailed had a voice. The so-called "Citizens," unlike the harvesters, could work in something other than dungeon maintenance. So, every blacksmith, scribe, tavern owner, or even the smallest resting place were managed by powerful but retired beings. Perhaps, for this reason, crime was minimal.
Westland was ruled by a duke named Alfs Bronir. He wasn't astute, strong, or even competent, but he was born into the right family with the right connections. In my world, I would call him privileged, but here he was called useless. His young age made him a puppet for influential "citizens," and his brief appearances had more aesthetic than functional character. Many swore that he preferred it that way. Power requires work, and work tires you. At the end of the day, if everyone fulfilled their basic functions and provided the quota for ascension, you would never see him anywhere.
"But what about money? How do you exchange things?"
Politics was interesting to know where not to step, that I would take anywhere, but what I wanted to know was what would sustain me.
"Excellent question. All creatures have a core that we call a soul. These souls are very powerful, and some even grant abilities to those who consume them. They can also be traded for money. A guardian's core pays an average of 100 bronze coins, which gives you at least a month's stay in an inn with everything paid for. But, understand, to kill one, you need a group of at least 5 to 20 harvesters depending on the level. For this reason, you always have to enter the dungeon if you want to live differently from those who live on the streets."
Cass showed me the money that was necessary for basic things and, above all, its hierarchy. The rarest coin to see was the gold one. It wasn't the most expensive coin, but it was the hardest to obtain. It represented 100 silver coins or 1,000 bronze coins. With a not-so-heavy bag of them, you could get anything you wanted—at least something that wasn't different from my world.
"I have to emphasize that many would kill to have the advantage you have. Leaving someone else to fight for you is a blessing here, and beasts fulfill this role masterfully."
I understood that my class was much more envied than I would have liked, largely due to rarity, power, and labor. It was like a game of chess where everyone is a pawn, but you could be the king. Seeing them lying at my feet, indifferent to their words and ambitions, sent shivers down my spine. I didn't want to lose anyone, and I least wanted to use them as weapons. My fear was intrinsic, and as much as I understood the advantage, the disadvantages were too great.
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"For you, they are beasts, but for me, they are all I have left."
"Hmm, I understand. I think you can try to use your other ability while strengthening your beasts to a level where you feel safe to use them. However, I must say that the advantage of having beasts can be quite tempting if you check the abilities that can be acquired for them in the guild. In the dungeons, any mistake or power deficiency is punished with death. I suggest you think carefully about using them, even from a support perspective."
"But how do I do that?"
Our conversation was heading in the direction that interested me, but a loud knock on the door.
"They've arrived."
"Who has arrived, Miss Cass?"
"The Fingers."
When we talked about politics, she mentioned this group. A weak duke would never sustain himself without power, and the Fingers tried to be the necessary extension for that. Their practices resembled the king's guards, but here in Westland, a significant part of their duties revolved around finding harvesters who refused to register with the guild or fulfill their dungeon raid quota. Even homeless people had to enter the dungeon at least once a month, even if they didn't have the power to be relevant. The compensation was above average, and the obligations were simple, which made these positions highly competitive and only accessible to the best or the privileged.
"Wait a moment, John, I'll answer the door."
"Good afternoon, Miss Cass. We received information that an unregistered harvester is in your residence."
"Vidar, if this year's receptionists were as competent as you, I wouldn't have to kill one of them to protect a harvester."
"I understand. We gained access to the information about the incident. However, even you have to respect the rules here. I don't need to say what Lord Bronir would think if he saw a warrior of your caliber breaking the rules."
"Is this a threat, Vidar?"
"Not at all. I don't have the power for that. I just came to retrieve the harvester."
The conversation between the two had a tone of extreme arrogance on Cass's part. I felt that at any moment, I could witness the same scene I saw before blacking out. However, with the same rudeness the conversation started, it ended. Vidar seemed sensible in his words, and at a glance, he looked human-like, but with thick armor and no visor. I couldn't identify what he was or his appearance, but it was clear that he respected Cass.
I was prepared to say goodbye and thank her for the information, but without ceremony, Cass began to speak.
"Before you go, I'm going to give you a gift for our conversation. Show me your beasts; I'll help you form a subservience pact, and the best part is, it's free."
Looking at Vidar's surprised and incomprehensible reaction, I understood that gaining access to this pact was expensive. Very expensive.
"I apologize for bothering you with this, Miss Cass, but I will accept your help if that's not too much to ask."
"Very well. Come here. Vidar, stay outside while I finalize the pact. I'll call you when I'm done."
"No problem, Miss. As long as I can leave with the harvester, you can do whatever is necessary."
I have to admit that Cass has some power in this place; I just didn't know how much. But seeing her treat that Finger with such insubordination only confirmed that she was one of the higher-ups.
"I'm going to ask you to hold your two beasts and look at me. The way is long, and there's very little time to do this. Let's get started."
As soon as she looked into my eyes and uttered words I didn't recognize, I felt something sucking me into myself. Within my subconscious, I could see a couple looking at me on a beach I hadn't remembered in a long time. They were beautiful in their own way, and it seemed like I had known them forever. It was strange, but when they spoke to me, I discovered why.
"Hi, Dad. Where's Mom? Why did she abandon us? We miss her."
The surprise I felt was inexplicable since the eyes of confusion, curiosity, and fear were undoubtedly theirs. The tears in their eyes were as real as the winter cold. I could feel that they had always been there and had always been what I was seeing. A whirlwind of emotions filled me, and seeing them cry made me want to cry too. After all this time, I wasn't suffering alone.
"I've heard Beasts call their pact-makers many things—master, king, even God. But Dad is a novelty; I think this makes our job easier. I need the three of you to hold hands and recite with me."
Having someone disturbing that moment or even being inside me was not comfortable, but in the short time I had known Cass, I understood that she had many ways to kill me or take everything from me, but she didn't. That reassured me, and even though I knew I would have to repay everything she was doing, I accepted without hesitation.
I could feel the confusion in the eyes of those children, but I quickly reassured them. We needed to trust someone, or else we would never achieve our goal.
The text was really long, and only at the end did I feel something different. It was like a connection; I could feel my dogs' desires, and they could feel mine. I could understand exactly what they wanted and felt.
"And here I thought it would be difficult. You have a common connection and a shared goal. That's great. Well, look at your arm."
When I looked at my arm, I saw two symbols tattooed there. On my dogs, they appeared near their necks. What was even more incredible was that not only did the symbols appear to me, but also their stats.
Protector | Class: Tank | Race: Dog
Guts | Age: 6
Level: 1
Strength: 1
Intelligence: 2
Agility: 1
Dexterity: 1
Endurance: 4
Mana: 0
Note: A earth dog. One of the weakest in its evolutionary line. For companionship only.
Sprinter | Class: Hunter | Race: Dog
Themis | Age: 4
Level: 1
Strength: 1
Intelligence: 2
Agility: 4
Dexterity: 1
Endurance: 1
Mana: 0
Note: A earth dog. One of the weakest in its evolutionary line. For companionship only.
"Only you can see the stats of your beasts. I suggest you don't go around telling everyone. Please take into consideration their classes and stats. Even though they have difficult classes, those are their potentials, so focus on them."
"Thank you very much for everything you've done. I promise to meet the expectations and repay this favor."
"Don't think too much about it and try not to die in the first week. Even though your class is strong, you are still nothing compared to the beasts in the dungeons. Focus on staying alive, and the rest will come with time. Now, let's go. That wretch must be waiting."
Vidar, who had patiently waited for my arrival, didn't utter a word from the moment we left Cass's house until we reached the guild. Only when we were at the door could I hear his voice.
"When you open this door, I want you to go to the reception and register. I don't have much faith in you, but if Cass said you're something, I'll believe her. Know that she doesn't usually help anyone."
"Thank you. I think."
With the same coldness that we walked to the guild, he turned and left, disappearing around a nearby corner.
"I guess this is it. No turning back now. Let's go."