Several days had passed since my last visit to the prison.

To avoid attracting attention, I had thrown myself into my work, then returned straight to the dormitory afterward.

I contemplated escape, but the towering wall of trees seemed impenetrable.

A coworker had boasted about the unbreachable nature of this barricade, explaining the trees' towering height, the poisonous foliage, and the wide and solid roots that made it impossible to dig underneath.

I was in an open-air prison.

Once again, my only hope was to reach level 10.

I clung to this idea, but faith was scarce.

I suspected that most people in the village were above level 10, yet none of them flew, or seemed able to rewound time. But hope was my addiction; it was the only thing keeping me afloat.

As usual, I finished my day and was headed towards my dormitory when I saw Guil waving at me.

His back rested against the small house where the farmers, including me, slept.

Joy filled me at his sight; he was the only one who seemed sane and genuinely kind.

I approached, and he spoke.

"It's been a while, how are you?" he asked.

"I'm okay, just doing my bit to stay useful," I replied simply.

He nodded, "Want to grab a drink somewhere nice, something more pleasant than your grass juice?" Without a second thought, I agreed. Breaking the monotony of this village was priceless.

As we walked, he held a small wooden box.

"You're settling into the village okay?" he asked.

"It's fine," I stammered, unwilling to admit my detestation for this place.

It felt like he saw this place as a sanctuary and the only reason I was still alive.

"I know it's tough at the start, but it's the best life possible in Hell," he claimed.

Did he truly believe what he was saying? Couldn't he see that the village chief, fat and complacent, sat in the largest and most beautiful house on a throne? Or the guards, perceived as saviors and treated as such? And all these people living in lovely individual houses?

My head buzzed; I saw nothing but injustice in this village. But I said nothing; after all, I was there to avoid being alone with the Drifters.

He led me to the edge of the village, near the wall.

It was indeed made of trees, looking sturdy and toweringly high.

To my surprise, Guil began to scale one of the trees forming the wall, and asked me to follow him.

I grabbed onto the wooden handles and followed him upwards.

Soon, I saw him enter a sort of hollow in the tree.

I climbed a bit further and joined him. We were in a natural hollow about 15 feet off the ground, offering a view of the entire area within the tree-walled borders.

"Probably the mage who created the wall wanted a quiet corner," Guil said as he opened his box and took out two glass bottles containing an amber liquid.

I took a bottle.

"It's liquor I traded outside the village," he explained.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

I took a sip; it had an acrid taste, then sweet and sharp.

I liked it.

"Are you the only one who can leave?" I asked.

He shook his head, "There are four of us allowed to leave. Here, we're called lookouts. Our job is mainly to bring back things not found in the village, gather information on Drifters and other threats… yeah… that's about it."

"And how does one become a lookout?" I questioned, my curiosity piqued.

He looked at me, surprise widening his eyes.

"Why, do you already want to leave?" he asked.

"I like to keep moving," I confessed in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Hmm… That's going to be complicated. The four of us were chosen for our reliability, our class of assassins, and because we have high speed points," he expounded.

"So, how does one become an assassin?" I queried further.

"At level 10, you can choose a class. So, you're not very far," he informed me.

At last, I knew what would happen when I reached level 10 - I would have to choose a class, an idea that seemed incredible.

"And… What are classes?" I inquired.

"Specializations. There are six choices, and each gives you unique abilities, as well as weaknesses," he clarified.

The topic intrigued me, but it wasn't going to help me get out. I had already dismissed the notion that reaching level 10 would grant me an escape.

Or could it?

"Hey, by the way, how did we manage to get through the wall the day you found me?" I asked.

He scratched the wood near his feet with his index finger, then responded, "It's a high-level trick. Knowing it won't do you any good," he said, forcing a smile onto his face.

It was clear that it was something difficult to do, but why hide it from me?

No matter, I didn't want him to start distrusting me due to my constant inquiries about a potential escape.

I took another sip of the liquor and gazed at the horizon.

The setting sun cast an orange glow across the landscape.

"Hell is beautiful in its own way," I commented, somewhat absentmindedly.

"Beautiful but terrible," Guil agreed.

"You say that, but this village seems peaceful enough. There are places like this here," I pointed out.

Even though I detested this village, especially given that it relied on the enslavement of the weaker ones, it was way more peaceful than the outside world.

"We had to make difficult choices to have all this," he stated soberly.

"Like what?" I asked, hoping to finally understand what was going on here.

"We had to kill people. People who wanted to overturn the established order, and ruin everything," he said.

"And… There was no other solution but to kill them?" I questioned. I harbored the hope that being a troublemaker might get me exiled.

He looked at me, bottle in hand and knee raised. "We were nearing the end of the month, and they had destroyed part of the crops. If we didn't kill them, some of us would have lost our minds," he confessed. "You killed them to earn debt points?" I asked, taken aback.

He looked at me curiously again. "Do you know the difference between debt points and experience points?" he asked.

"XP helps you level up and debt points protect you from madness," I replied.

"Yes, that's a part of it. But I was talking about their fundamental nature," he said as he put down his bottle and straightened his back before continuing. "Gaining XP is easy; you just need to kill monsters, sell items, complete quests, and also make discoveries. Novelty and discovery are at the core of gaining experience. Hell is so crafty it might even reward you with XP when you die," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "But debt points, that's another story," he added, clearing his throat.

"You can only earn these damn points by performing actions that gradually consume you - killing, stealing, human trafficking... that sort of thing. The most innocent thing you can do to earn them is to cultivate these disgusting fruits. But it's not a sustainable method," he stated.

That explained why they resorted to slavery. In the end, even cultivating these fruits was far from innocent.

Guil looked out over the horizon, lost in thought.

"What about PP? If you complete quests or sell items, you get those, and they can pay off the debt, right?" I asked.

He laughed. "You can't earn PP alone, there will always be DP or XP with it. And gaining XP is taboo here, even if you don't level up," he explained.

"What do you mean taboo?" I asked.

"Mmmh... How to put it... Let's just say that people here have created a sort of religion around it. They have dietary restrictions to avoid eating anything that could give them XP. They have very precise habits so as not to gain discovery points. They don't keep livestock or pets because if the animal dies after suffering a minor injury from a player, the latter will receive points as if they killed it, even a month later," Guil explained, his eyes raised in search of his memory for more examples.

But I didn't let him finish, "We get points when an animal dies if we injured it before, even if we aren’t the cause of death?" I asked.

"Yes. If it doesn't die from another player, the last one who injured it gets the points," he said.

This explained why the screen had written that I had killed my captor, but the creature that killed him was a player, it was a Drifter, I was sure.

"And the Drifters? If you kill them, you would gain DP, right?" I asked, wanting to verify a theory that was forming in my mind.

"Ah, no, the thing with the Drifters is that... They're no longer players, or even human beings. They are part of the system. Killing them yields XP and PP. That's why we never fight them and even avoid them," he explained.

It was precisely what I thought.

The debt didn't keep us from madness but actually allowed us to pay for our freedom, our identity.

Dying wasn't the only way Hell had of making us cease to exist.