‘No, I can’t go there like this.’ Mongrel recalled being laughed at for being such a country bumpkin.

He would just make a fool of himself if he were to show himself to some professional criminals. It didn’t fit the mental image he had of who one would call a ‘mongrel.’

He skidded to a stop on a clean roof.

Scanning the streets, there were no trees in sight.

A decrepit house on the side grabbed his attention for reasons he couldn't discern. He found himself on its roof before he knew it.

‘I need to hide my ignorance…a mask.’ Mongrel plucked off one of the roof tiles that was needlessly big.

He drew his knife and took half a minute to draw out and imbue mana into its blade before carving the roof tile into a shrivelled old dog’s face.

‘Not so bad if I say so myself, it’s my best work yet.’ No one but Mongrel knew that he was a Sculptor by Profession.

‘How do I attach it to my face…how do the Xengs do it without any holding pieces? Right…mana,’ Mongrel sprayed the perfume on the stone mask. He didn’t know why but it felt like he should’ve done that.

Despite his best attempts, he couldn't attach the mask to his face with mana.

Hence, he carved spikes at the side of the mask. The roof tile’s curve was oddly perfect for his face and reached behind his ears. A weird roof.

‘I won’t die here right…’ Mongrel took a deep breath while holding the mask against his face.

He took a moment to settle his mind. Sitting down on the roof, he placed his face against the mask and roof to hold the mask in place before smashing his one good arm into the side of the mask.

“ARG!” Mongrel quickly sniffled his voice out. He managed to enhance his strength enough to pierce his skull.

He wasn’t even sure if the mask was aligned but he didn’t wait for his head to heal before smashing the other corner into the other side of his skull. He made sure to sculpt a curved hook on the mask. Holding his consciousness together, he waited and fought the pain.

It didn’t even take half a minute before he felt warm behind his ears. The Capital City started healing him.

It shocked him when foreign mana physically pulled at his stone mask.

‘It can rip away the damaging component?’ Mongrel smashed his palms to hold the mask onto his face but the foreign mana got stronger the more force he put into keeping his mask on.

Mongrel had his doubts about the healing capabilities of the City Barrier but that was gone now. Respect and admiration for the Royals turned into fear.

If one were to get stabbed and their attacker forced the blade stuck, the City’s mana would react and force the blade out? That was ridiculous.

Did that mean the Royals were watching the movements of billions of people at the same time?

Mongrel wouldn’t believe that for a moment. It was the work of an extremely complicated spell or some kind of magic. It had to be.

Mongrel dashed away from the decrepit rooftop with his hands straining to keep the mask on. He knew where the closest dungeon dome was but he had no party.

However, he couldn’t think of anything else and charged towards the dungeon.

By some miracle, he was actually allowed to pass.

Because the dungeons situated in the Capital all had another town or city right after passing through the portal.

The only problem was that it wasn’t free to enter. In fact, the entrance fee was so expensive he might have to work for a week without eating to afford entry.

He didn’t care and dipped into the rest of his savings.

Once he was in, he quickly hid in the shadows of the streets within the dungeon.

His bleeding had long stopped and his Vitality did the rest.

He waited a good half an hour before he exited and returned to Tidal.

The guards couldn’t be bothered as to why he entered and exited in such a short period of time. He didn’t exactly look rich either.

His efforts weren’t in vain as the City’s healing no longer treated his mask as a foreign entity and simply healed the area around the spikes. Bathing the mask in his mana might have been the best idea he had.

He checked the time and found himself to be right on time.

He entered the tavern and found himself a corner seat. Although it was quieter, there were still a dozen occupants drinking.

A few tables had exuded heavy overflowing Vitality and Wisdom but Mongrel wasn’t bothered by them. The ones he had his eye on were the people he sensed nothing from.

Unnamed and the earth mage entered and noticed him straight away.

Mongrel watched as some drunkards stood up at the same time. An eerie scene of unconscious drunkards walking out appeared and all the people remaining were those he couldn’t sense any aura from.

“Who’s this masked fellow?” A large human with a few handheld axes by his waist screened him.

Unnamed was about to speak out for him but Mongrel quickly stood up and pushed the man who stood in front of him.

“Mongrel.”

“Who’re you calling mongrel!?” The human yelled.

“Myself, but I don’t blame you for answering the call.” Mongrel retorted.

He might be making a fool of himself since he probably couldn’t beat anyone in the tavern but he knew that it was all about attitude and how he presented himself. Chris was no more, and now seemed to be a great time to erase what was left of him. Emerging as Mongrel.

“Brat!”

Mongrel ducked and got on twos the moment the thin, sharp axe was thrown at him.

There was little suspense as he was manhandled to the ground but he made sure to bite a piece of flesh out of his attacker's arm.

Diving into his unbridled rage was the facade he put on. He wanted to be publicly known as a berserker who couldn’t control his actions. It might backfire and give himself a bad impression but if they allowed him to join, they shouldn’t give him any important missions.

However, it didn’t backfire.

The people in the tavern laughed and praised his energy. They liked the show.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“New guy? I can smell the poverty on you. Good!”

“Mongrel huh, fitting.”

“Barkeep, what’s his score?”

Mongrel didn’t know any of their names but it probably wasn’t necessary.

“Mid rung Master. Two point four.”

“Average for his level? That’s surprising, he felt weaker than that. Like a two-pointer.” The axe tosser commented.

“His berserk enhancement is better than what I’ve seen. It has potential. His mish-mash, unrefined skills can be dealt with with ease.” The bald bartender’s eyes were sharper than before.

Mongrel had to reevaluate the importance of the old bartender as his interviewer. He didn’t know what kind of point system they were talking about but he memorised the numbers they associated with him.

They managed to sense his confusion despite the mask on his face. Their perception was intimidating. Mongrel made it a point to learn to control his body language.

“Barkeep, give him the rundown. We have business to discuss.”

They left him with the bald bartender and he listened and memorised the information he was given.

“so…I’m part of the gang?”

“Psh, what gang? You don’t even know what we go by do you?”

“...no.”

“We’re the Jade Parasites. Right, you’re not authorised to spread that name. Yes, you’re already part of us.”

The bartender explained the hierarchy in the Jade Parasites.

The organisation's top priority is wealth. In fact, they only worked for wealth.

Their rankings were called Rungs and went from low to mid to high. Some people were referred to as peak rung but those people could be counted on the fingers on two hands. Something he didn’t have.

The point system was quite easy to follow. 0 to 1 referred to anyone in the organisation who was seen to have a Journeyman’s capabilities. Every increment of 0.1 points equated to a 10-level difference.

If a Journeyman was rated to be 1.5 they would be considered a high rung Journeyman.

The low and mid rung Journeymen in the organisation do not have the option of choosing their jobs but those high rung Journeymen did.

Similarly, a point of 2.4 was appropriate for his level of 240 but that was supposedly the bartender's call. The bartender seemed to hold a very good Identification skill as he grasped that Mongrel hid his strength.

The axe wielder was probably quite accurate and his power was probably equal to a random level 200 warrior in the Capital.

Everyone in the room other than Mongrel and the bartender were Mid-rung Grandmasters whose point ratings were above 3.5.

That seemed low in his opinion, maybe not for everyone in the room but Unnamed held impressive power. Then again, the bartender didn’t give the exact number and their point would have to be above 5.5 to be considered a high rung Grandmaster. The range was quite wide and Unnamed supposedly hasn’t reached level 500 so it might not be as surprising as he initially assumed.

‘He’s hiding his strength too…probably everyone here is hiding their true power.’ Mongrel was glad he had enough presence of mind to hide his own.

The leaders of the Jaded Parasites hid their levels and wasn’t public knowledge even for their members.

“How do I know who’s one of us or let others know I’m part of them?”

“Runic stamps, barkeeps like me hold a stamp. After stamping your body somewhere, you’ll be able to feel if another person is stamped just like you. And yes, it's ranked so you’ll know their rung. If there’s a team mission, the highest rank and rung can take command and you are most likely obligated to follow their command.”

“Will we know each other’s points?”

“No, just the rung. It's already hard enough to make such a mark as a runic stamp. When at least 3 other members deem you to reach their rung, come to me to update your stamp.”

“I see. Is the mark permanent?”

“You’ll need to get restamped at least once every half a year. We won’t get any new members if we tell them we marked them permanently. We used to but it didn’t turn out well for the organisation. You know, everyone here has things to hide.”

‘Every seven months…if I want to leave the Jaded Parasites I have to hide for seven months.’ Mongrel knew that he shouldn’t trust everything the bartender said but it was a point of reference that he could use when he got more information in future.

The range of the runic stamps was quite big, he would be able to sense another member from about half an Uncommon callstone’s distance. He didn’t carry a callstone since it was useless for him. He did write letters to Mark’s address once in a while.

It was a weird encounter. That man might be the only person that Mongrel contacts from time to time.

Mark had been very helpful. He had gotten discounts for potions thanks to Mark. Mongrel hoped there was a branch over in Tidal but he might be hoping for too much. The Capital was so far away from Mark’s home and he wasn’t sure if they were a big company.

He didn’t even receive replies but he continued to write a letter asking for mana manipulation tips every few months. Despite the man saying he had no talent, Mongrel couldn’t forget the laxed man in front of a giant sky-blotting fish that fired water blades that sundered the earth.

The concept of a "domain" was nothing short of a legend to a country bumpkin like Mongrel. He remained so unfamiliar with the term that even to this day, its meaning eluded him completely.

“Boy, that old man’s out of town. Get stronger by yourself, I’ll find you when he’s back. At least get strong enough for him to care. Let’s see, try reaching level 300 by the end of the year.” Unnamed gave him a random goal to strive for.

‘What?! 60 levels under a year?’ Mongrel finally made good use of his mask as he hid his shock. He barely made that number when he was a Journeyman, the difficulty spike for that from 240 to 300 was much higher.

“At the very least, reach high rung Master. Alright, I got places to go.” Unnamed slipped away after putting him in some weirdly high-class organisation.

He followed the man here to get stronger so he didn’t care who taught him but to get stronger by himself? That was where he hit the wall from the start.

“Mongrel, your equipment is horrendous. Pick up a few missions for two or three months before you go into the dungeons.” The bartender called himself Jim and helped him get started.

“What kind of missions are there?” Jim brought him to their mission board in the back.

It seemed like all Jaded Parasite-run taverns were like tiny Quest Halls of their own. Just like the Quest Hall, missions could be put up by their own members or clients.

The real money comes from clients but the easy jobs come from other members. Most of these easy jobs were higher ranking members who needed a helping hand for their own mission or personal request.

‘It’s not any different from the Quest Hall. Minus the missions about kidnapping and assassinating people.’ He didn’t have to worry about that since one couldn’t pick up those missions without reaching the required point.

The stamp on them couldn’t show their points to each other but the bartenders had their record.

Mongrel glanced through the missions that a two-pointer could accept. There wasn’t a lot and the requests appeared…trivial.

‘Is this a place for odd jobs?’ Mongrel was gobsmacked by a request. It was asking for someone with at least 1500 Strength stat and a massage skill to massage their horse. For two Blues.

‘Blues?!’ The country bumpkin calmed himself when he thought how ridiculous the requirement of 1500 Strength and a related skill was.

As Unnamed mentioned, the place didn’t look so shady anymore.

“What’s that board?” Mongrel finished glancing through all the missions he saw himself being able to complete when he saw a different board beside the missions.

“Trade and sale notices, you can post something as well. It doesn’t cost anything and is updated in real-time throughout all our establishments.”

Mongrel hopped over with his trusty leg and the first notice already startled him. Every subsequent post shook him just as profoundly, if not even more so.

“They’re selling their skills?!”

“Why are you so surprised, everyone’s here for money and one’s skills are one’s asset. Hurry and make some ores, these skill courses are extremely expensive but most of our guys’ training methods are…hasty. So you’ll be able to pick it up fast if you follow their instructions.”

It was obvious from Jim’s reaction that the training methods were probably unconventional to be able to pick a skill up fast.

He could knock on an Academy’s door but even the fastest course might take years.

The exorbitant prices didn’t dissuade him.

“I’ll tackle this.” Mongrel got Jim to write him down as a participant for the highest-paying job at the moment.

“Huh? A team mission, colour me surprised I thought you’d be a lone wolf.” The visible surprise on Jim’s face was not lost on him.

“I’ll be seeing you often Jim,”

Mongrel didn’t even ask for further instructions.

The mission he had chosen was a request from a noble, who had asked for twenty mid-rung Masters. Now, he was one of them.

It was a harassment mission.

The contents were to destroy another noble’s property at irregular timings. According to the post, the mission was already ongoing and they even put a schedule up.

Destroying a rich man’s financials did not cross Mongrel’s line.

As for harming the innocent, he’d hope his line did not shift during his transformation.