I must be doing something right, because after a week and a half of routinely ‘cleaning’ the settlement’s ghost traps, Nerin appears to have finally accepted my presence. If nothing else, they’re not constantly radiating fear when I’m present – or, not at as much anyway. In the process I’ve managed to reach level 8, though I wasn’t offered any Class options at level 5, much to Nyx’s entertainment. I’m sure they would have been weak and useless anyway, so I don’t see it as a loss. At least that’s the story I’m going with.

“-So anyways, I was movin’ this haul o’ scrap ta Ven’s place, an’ I-“

This fellow is particularly chatty despite their repeated nervous glances my way, but I can’t say anything they’ve said is interesting. I’m presently at a tavern with my grocer friend, a place just as run down inside as it is outside, and though none of the furniture matches, it surprisingly has plenty of seating. Granted most of that seating is overturned crates, but seating is seating.

The serving girl places a mug in front of me and nods before turning and heading back toward the bar. Ever since the place’s denizens realized I can reduce some kinds of matter to dust it’s become a local spectacle for folks to buy me drinks just to watch it happen. I don’t actually get anything from it since it’s devoid of mana anyway, but I’ve been humoring their antics. It hasn’t done anything to reduce the rumors of me devouring people without a trace in the outer alleyways, but I’m pretty sure that damage is long done.

(Told you so,) my Assistant mutters.

Yes, you did. This is fine. I don’t need to be liked, only tolerated enough to get my fill and my levels without having to actually fight them for it.

(So, you’re lazy then.)

I prefer to call it efficient. I’m getting my progression for nothing but travel time. Only a couple more levels and I should have some Class options!

(You know, if you don’t know how to actually use your levels you’re going to do a piss poor job of anything you try to do.)

Ah, I see. So ability doesn’t make proficiency?

(Exactly.)

I hadn’t planned for that. Huh. Guess I’ll have to do… something?

It’s probably good that she’s intangible, because the frequency with which Nyx has facepalmed lately would have worn a track in it by now.

(That’s your fault, you know.)

I know.

And there she goes again! What would you even suggest I do?

(Well, there’s always the standard options. Go kill things with blades, clubs, guns, or magic. Make or build things, with or without tools. Or, get a job like a civilized adult. Take Nerin for example.)

I couldn’t care less about being ‘civilized’.

(Yeah, I can tell.)

I guess I may as well kill things. Does it have to be with weapons? My skills already do the job just fine.

(If you want a specialized Class, yes. Unless you want to get stuck with a berserker derivative or something?)

What’s wrong with being a berserker?

(Well, most of them give bonuses to unarmed combat, but they usually come with major drawbacks like losing control when you enter combat to begin with.)

That sounds like a good way to die to something I should be running from.

(Yep.)

Well, as of right now I have starter mechanic’s tools and this runegun…

(The pistol’s too weak to be of much use, but if you want a ranged Class you could always practice hitting things with it. Not really an option if you keep cleaning ghost traps though, I doubt you can even materialize it in there. We’d need to resort to more traditional monster hunting, maybe in the sewers.)

Well. Is there some way we can uh, get paid to kill things?

(Of course there are, but let’s be honest. If big scary midboss monster you drifted into an adventurer’s guild, they’d splat you on the spot.)

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

I bet we could find someone to take jobs for us officially for a cut of the enni.

(Probably, but then you’re at risk of blackmail.)

Despite Nyx’s reservations, I turn to Nerin.

Hey. Is there an adventurer’s guild anywhere relatively close to the settlement?

The only-slightly-sloshed grocer turns to me and slurs, “Nope. Got one topside a week’s walk out at the mains district though. Why do you ask?”

I had a brilliant idea to get some experience while getting paid for it.

“That’s the same idea every adventurer has, before they die to it.”

Overconfidence?

“It’s a deadly job, even on-level. One mistake is all it takes.”

It takes more than one mistake to kill me though. If you ask my Assistant, I’ve already made lots of them.

That got her snickering. Good. Anyway, looks like Nerin’s answers have gotten our table companion’s attention.

“Wha’, you need an adventurer for?”

I may as well include them in the conversation.

I have a plan to offer one a share of the rewards if they will accept jobs on my behalf.

“Won’ work. Systems track kills, guilds read th’ logs.”

Ah, I see. What if I offered to join a party instead? I’m sure my ‘special abilities’ could be useful.

“That might take. How y’gonna fin’ a party though?”

It just so happens that Boz and his boys choose that exact moment to wander in the front door. Oh, serendipity, how brightly you smile!

I’ll be back in a minute.

***

So after absolutely terrifying and definitely traumatizing three pookas and a half-troll, I have myself a party. I’m obviously the leader, which Boz was exceedingly willing to offer me without argument. Their previous employer, a human loan shark named Weksin, was only too happy to free them from their prior obligations after a brief discussion that may or may not have involved him watching everything made of paper in his office begin aging to dust. Really, the people here are so accommodating! I should just make my base here to begin with.

When I mentioned registering with the guild, imagine my pleasant surprise finding out that the boys had already done that years ago. And yet, somehow they’re still the second-lowest rank. Pathetic.

(Well, it is, but they clearly found better paying work as hired muscle here. It’s less dangerous threatening folks down on their luck too,) Nyx interjects. And, she’s not wrong.

But they’re under new management now, and I want access to a larger variety of job options than ‘make poor person piss themselves’. I could do it, it worked well enough on Boz anyway (heh heh), but I can already tell I’d get bored. I’m already bored.

So, after stopping at the apartment to leave Philip plenty of kibble and topping up his water dish, I meet up with my party and we begin the journey to the mains district. I’d have asked Nerin for directions, but the boys have been there often enough that it just wasn’t necessary.

Speaking of the party, I take a look at our makeup. Boz, the chubby one (Drex), and number three (Gron) are fighters. Meanwhile number four (Prell) is my rogue. I can’t help but wonder if half-trolls are innately smarter than pookas given his wise decision to flee when we first met.

(They are,) Nyx says. (It’s the human half. Pookas and trolls are both innately physical builds, but humans are innately social or mental builds.)

Or?

(Yes, or. Some races have special traits. Humans have a flexible progression trait that allows them to choose as part of their growth.)

Interesting.

Wait.

Do I have anything like that?

(Nope.)

I see. What kind of build am I? You can see that, right?

(Yep.)

Yep you can see it?

(Yep.)

And the other question?

(What’s it worth to you?)

How about an extra hour with Philip?

(Good, but no. I want a favor. At some point in the future, I’m going to tell you to do something, and you’re going to do it. You follow?)

That’s… awfully open ended.

(Yep.)

I’ll agree to it, only if I can veto if it’s something I really don’t wanna do.

(Nope.)

The boys look at me funny as I realize I’d had my lure facepalm. I ignore them.

Fine. One. Now, make with the goods.

(You do have a build developing. Your physical is pretty low, so I wouldn’t get in any fistfights if I were you. You’ve got plenty of mental though, and your social has been steadily improving since you’ve been spending time around mortals.)

Well, it makes sense that my physical stats would be low-

(Stat. Not ‘stats’. It’s just the one.)

Huh. Then, it makes sense that my physical stat would be low, considering I don’t actually have a physical body.

(You could develop it, you know.)

How, lifting weights?

(Actually, yes.)

Interesting. I’ll have to think about it. Do I get anything else for that favor?

(Nope!)

The boys nervously glance at me again as my lure slumps its shoulders. At some point I should probably get them better gear, they’re all in the level 10-15 range and actually have starter combat classes, but rags don’t count as armor and their weapons couldn’t even be mistaken for a table setting. I’m sure there will be plenty of places to look for that where we’re going. Which… I wonder.

Boz.

“Yeah boss,” the gangly pooka immediately responds.

I want to try something.

I dematerialize my lure, reducing my presence to the floating obsidian brooch corporeal form I’ve been gradually improving. I then immediately drift toward Boz, causing him to flinch.

Hold still. I’m not going to eat you.

He doesn’t look convinced, but it’s enough to get him to stand still at least. I float towards him and attach myself to the collar of his rags.

Prell. You have the highest identify of the group. Use it in Boz’s direction and tell me what you see.

The half-troll’s eyes flicker gray for a split-second before he answers. “I see Boz’s usual identify stuff, boss. Can still feel your aura though. I don’t see your identify there unless I focus on you.”

I can’t help but project a delighted laugh.

(It didn’t sound delighted. It sounded demented,) Nyx helpfully offers. (Just look at the buffoons’ faces.)

Ok, yeah. They look terrified. But, that’s not outside the scope of my plan. I focus on my corporeal form for the next few moments, roughening the surface to make myself look like a worn piece of charcoal stuck to Boz’s shirt.

Soon. Very soon.