(Dylan)

Dylan slid the tablet back across the counter toward Marlin. “Yes, I’ve got some questions, a lot of questions.”

“Naturally,” Marlin replied, flashing a strained smile. “Which details would you like me to clarify?”

Dylan propped his chin on his knuckles, mulling it over. He still wasn’t sold on the refugee program, and the attendant’s half-hearted sales pitch didn’t help. His thirty-five years on Earth had taught him one thing: almost everyone had an ulterior motive, and no one did anything for free.

He’d help people because it felt right, but learned fast that he was the exception, not the rule. What worried him most was that he couldn’t tell what the League gained from helping people—that usually meant it was shady.

Doing the right thing just for the sake of it? Life on Earth taught him to dig deeper. He needed to figure out the League—who they were, what they wanted, and, most importantly, what they expected from him.

“Let’s start with the League of Adventurers.” Dylan shot an expectant look at Marlin.

Marlin clasped his hands together and set them on the counter. “Perhaps we could start with something a bit more... specific?”

“Sure, so what does the League of Adventurers actually do?” This was his chance to ask someone other than Charles, who had been less than helpful so far. Last time, all Dylan got was—

“Contracts,” Marlin answered. Same as before.

“Contracts…?” Dylan blinked.

Marlin nodded at Dylan, then leaned toward Charles and whispered, “Are you sure he can hear with those...?” He gestured to his own ears, leaving the rest unsaid.

“Yes, I can hear you just fine.” Dylan cut in, again answering for himself.

“All well and good, sir.” Marlin straightened up. “The League of Adventurers exists to create, distribute, complete, and compensate for contracts.”

“Should’ve called it the League of Contracts.” Dylan chuckled, but neither elf found the joke funny.

Marlin rolled his eyes and sighed. “Contracts are what we do, not who we are.”

Dylan rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Well, who, or what, is the League of Adventurers?”

“An intergalactic organization with hundreds of millions of active members spread across the known universe. We established, collected, organized, and maintained the Adventurers System from the start. Technically, we are a sovereign entity, but we own no land and exist only at the behest of sentient civilizations.

“Our purpose is to use the Adventurers System to solve personal, social, economic, environmental, and chronological problems at local, global, galactic, and even universal levels when necessary. We avoid political problems but often deal with the fallout. Aside from governing our own members, we have no official authority unless given temporary jurisdiction through the Contract System.”

“Holy crap, you’ve created your own Starfleet.” Dylan leaned on the counter, a grin spreading across his face.

‘Wait, does that make me a redshirt?’ Dylan’s smile faded, he really hoped not. A disposable character they could kill off every episode wasn’t how he wanted to spend the rest of his life.

Marlin raised an eyebrow slightly. “Am I right in assuming you want me to expound on the Contract System?”

“Yes, assume away.” Dylan nodded eagerly, motioning for him to continue. “Please, keep going.”

“Right away, sir. The Contract System ties into the Adventurers System. When we receive a request for aid, we create a contract. Several factors determine the rank of the contract, such as, but not limited to, the difficulty, urgency, and scope of the request. Then, the Open Contracts Board publishes the contract, and an appropriately ranked member, team, or teams have the option to claim it. If no one claims it within a timely manner, the Open Contracts Board will assign an on-call resource to handle the matter.”

Dylan crossed his arms over his chest. “Wait, this is all just some fancy magic ticketing system? You’re not Starfleet, you’re just an MSP—”

“Don’t spell,” Marlin and Charles said again.

Charles shot Dylan a sideways glance, having already warned him previously. “Dylan, it’s considered rude to spell.”

“What? All I said was—” Dylan caught himself before finishing. “So, no acronyms?”

Charles just shook his head. The rugged elf pushed off the counter, crossed the room, and dropped into a seat, slouching comfortably. The no-spelling rule seemed weird—he’d ask about it later

“Okay, fine. Please continue,” Dylan said.

Marlin cleared his throat. “After resolving the contract, its status will change to ‘complete’. Handing it in will earn you its lootbox rewards.”

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Lootbox?” Dylan’s eyebrows shot up. Lootboxes—his only weakness, aside from terror tubes and puns. Damn gacha games, the bane of his bank account.

Marlin straightened his posture, his hands clasping together on the counter. “Shall I explain the Lootbox System as well?”

“You’ve got a magic gacha system?” Dylan turned to Charles, who was just ‘resting his eyes.’ “Those things are insidiously addictive.” He glanced back at Marlin. “I’m going to need more than an explanation. Got any free samples?”

Marlin looked puzzled. “My apologies, sir. What do you mean by free samples?”

“You know, a free lootbox.” ‘But why stop at one?’ he thought. “Or ten. Ten free lootboxes would be better.” He nodded to himself. “Back on Earth, they gave out free samples all the time to hook people on games. Well, that and drugs—but I didn’t do drugs.” His smile faded. “Might’ve been cheaper to do drugs... I was a sucker for lootboxes.”

Marlin sighed. “There are no free lootboxes, and they are for licensed adventurers. The only way to get them is by completing contracts. You are certainly insistent on learning about the League. Are you considering joining?”

“No,” Charles answered immediately from across the room. “We’re just here to get him into the system as a refugee.”

‘I thought he was asleep.’ Dylan realized Charles was much more attentive than he looked, even though he seemed exhausted. “Not today, apparently. But that’s a good point. Does signing up as a refugee prevent me from becoming an adventurer?”

“No. The two are not mutually exclusive. Although I would suggest resolving your refugee status before starting your journey as an adventurer.” Marlin leaned forward on his elbows.

Dylan sighed. “A bit too late for that…”

Marlin’s brow furrowed, his head tilting slightly. “I beg your pardon?”

“Nothing, never mind.” Dylan noticed everyone else getting comfortable, so he leaned on the counter too. “Just the explanation, I guess.” He frowned, still disappointed by the lack of free lootboxes.

“Of course, the Lootbox System also ties into the Contract System. Marking the lootbox rank and quantity is part of the process. We use a triple blind system to ensure fairness. The system is self-perpetuating: members with crafting abilities take a contract to create an item, gaining experience in their ability while we gain items for the Lootbox System—an equitable trade.

“The system combines crafted items until they reach a target value, then creates an unmarked lootbox. It waits in the system until it is given out as a reward. No one, except the system itself, knows what is inside until an adventurer opens it.”

“Where’s the chart?” Dylan asked.

Marlin narrowed his eyes slightly at Dylan, glancing to either side, leaned in and asked, “What chart, sir?”

“The drop rates for the lootboxes. On Earth, they made everyone show the drop rates for gacha systems like this.” Dylan leaned over the counter, trying to sneak a peek at Marlin’s tablet, expecting him to pull it up.

Marlin offered a thin smile, his voice calm and matter-of-fact. “We’re not on Dirt, sir, and there’s no such chart.”

“So, no free samples, and no lists to see what I could get?” Dylan hung his head. “The only way to see what’s inside is by doing the damn quests?”

Marlin folded his arms neatly and shook his head. “No, sir. Quests are a guild system. Lootboxes only come from contracts.”

Dylan squinted. “Wait, they’re not the same thing?” In video games, both words were used interchangeably. The fact that they had separate meanings here was news to him.

“No, the League handles contracts, which reward lootboxes. Guilds offer quests to their members for guild standing.”

“What does that get you?” Dylan knew the concept from video games. He wondered if it worked as a currency for items and services, a tally unlocking new benefits, or a mix of both. Either way, he wasn’t risking another reset on assumptions.

“That depends on the guild, but even the smallest, most basic ones offer shops and crafting services from your fellow members.”

Dylan tilted his head, his brow furrowing slightly. “And the League isn’t a guild?”

“No.”

Dylan leaned forward a bit. “What can you tell me about guilds?”

“Other than the fact that each is a collective of individuals? Not much. It is outside the purview of this discussion, I am afraid. But you will need a guild sponsorship if you want to join the League of Adventurers.”

“But how can I do that if you won’t tell me about them?” Dylan frowned, struggling with his own chicken and egg scenario.

Marlin exhaled softly, spreading his hands in a gesture of resignation. “The League strives to stay neutral. If I told you about one guild, I would have to tell you about every guild. And with each being so unique, I simply have neither the time nor knowledge to do so.”

Fair enough, but every answer seemed to lead to more questions. “So, back to lootboxes. Hypothetically, could an adventurer just make, like, hundreds of iron daggers and turn them in for a bunch of experience and lootboxes?”

“If that were your plan, you might do better opening a treat shop catering to draconi—they simply love mundane metals. Keep the daggers blunt, and it would be a novel delight.”

“So, I couldn’t hand them in for lootboxes?”

Marlin shook his head with a flat smile. “Oh, no. Any blacksmith could make those. We designed the system to train and equip adventurers, so it needs at least common-ranked items. However, hundreds of common iron daggers would work—unless enhanced with flavor or nutrient enchantments, then I would circle back to the draconi eatery concept.”

Dylan wasn’t getting the answers he expected, and he felt more confused than when he’d started asking. He decided it was time for a more direct approach. “How do you stop people from gaming the system?”

“By what do you mean?” This idea seemed foreign to the attendant.

Dylan pursed his lips, thinking about how to explain cheesing the system. “Like making a bunch of the same item to get easy experience and rewards?”

Marlin gestured with his hands as he spoke, growing more animated. “You are talking about practice. How does anyone improve without it?” He paused, tapping a finger lightly on the counter as if to emphasize the point. “With each craft, you would learn how to make the next more efficiently, eventually making a far superior product. The crafters get more skilled, and the recipients are better equipped. Why would we not want to reward that?”

Marlin tilted his head, a faint smile forming. “I think the better question would be: why stop at hundreds of daggers when thousands would reveal even more of your potential?”

Dylan tapped a finger to his lips. Those were all excellent points. Once again, the explanation was far more logical than Earth’s mindset, focusing on adding real value. “I think I’m out of questions.”

“Excellent.” Marlin finished adjusting his hair and slid the tablet back in front of Dylan. “Would you kindly place your hand on the device so I may collect your signal?”

Dylan placed his hand in the guidelines. “I think you mean signature—Ahh!” Three sharp needles stabbed deep into his palm. He grabbed his injured hand, staring down at the three tiny red holes in his quivering palm.

“Huh,” Marlin muttered, staring at the drops of red blood undulating on the tablet. “I have never seen that before. Why is it red?” Marlin asked. Charles shrugged, and Dylan fainted.