Following a long discussion, and after a good bottle of booze, we climbed down from our perch.

Then, we started walking towards the village.

Guil had given me a ton of information. But the most crucial question remained: how do I get out of here?

We walked in silence, nearing my dormitory, where we'd part ways.

This was my last shot, so I decided to ask him one more question: "If I don't like it here, is there a possibility that I can leave?" I asked him, as honestly as I could.

He looked at me as if I were an alien. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but at the last second, he held back and began to ponder.

His face appeared a tad calmer than a moment ago.

"Well... no. The people here find it hard enough to trust newcomers, but it's even worse to let someone leave. There are high-level players who hunt player gatherings to fill their debt bar. Your leaving would risk revealing our location to the wrong person. We can't afford that," he said simply.

I saw Guil as the most caring and straightforward person in this village. If he told me it was impossible, then it was indeed the reality.

My heart sank upon hearing this.

Did I genuinely stand no chance of getting out of here?

He said his goodbyes and left me at my dormitory—too small and too smelly.

I watched him walk away, his green khaki rain poncho slightly fluttering in the wind.

His freedom was enticing.

He probably didn't realize how lucky he was to have the option to leave.

Then, I went into my sad dormitory.

Time passed. I must have been here for about three weeks now.

The days were all the same.

Always the same nauseating smell in the fields.

Always the same discomfort and lack of privacy in the dormitory.

I couldn't get used to being here.

I had come to loathe the Dwellers and what they represented.

When I first arrived, I thought they were the realists of this world. They had seen through Hell's lies, and they had acted against it.

They were the category of free men.

I had been naive.

The hope of resurrection was what made us human. Without hope, only death awaited us.

I didn't want to be a Dweller. I was sure of it.

It was late afternoon, and I had just finished my day's work.

I had gotten into the habit of hanging around the village.

I wasn't welcomed, and I realized it every time I strolled around.

All the village residents stared at me and avoided me as if I was a plague.

But I didn't care. If I were to stay here for long, might as well find some enjoyment.

I liked walking along the dirt trails that zigzagged between the houses.

Besides, I gathered information. Observing the villagers was a fascinating exercise. Every day, I saw the exact same people doing the exact same things—it felt like I was in a play.

There, an old man to my right was walking slowly. He was careful to set his feet on the footprints he himself had left in the dry soil.

He walked in the same spot every day, following his own tracks.

Over there, a little further, that man was repairing his house. Well, no. It took me a while to understand that he was damaging his own house so that he could repair it.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Next to him, an elderly woman was pushing the wheels of her wheelchair forward.

This was the first time I had seen this object. If she was disabled, she could just level up to heal.

That seemed utterly crazy to me.

And there, a bit further away, my favorite. A mage had placed a sort of magic pole, which looked like a luminous post. But this magical pole served to keep away all the birds that tried to approach the village. Probably to prevent gaining XP if they happened to die.

Their fear of gaining XP led the inhabitants to adopt completely unique behaviors. It was entertaining. The problem was that their strategies made my task of leveling up impossible.

I spent my evening, every day, walking. It was the only way I had thought of to gain XP.

I had gained 50XP for my first 50 miles. I imagined that the next points would be for the first 100 miles, but then what? What would be the next step, 1000 miles? How long would that take me?

People had told me not to try to level up. I was hoping not to get noticed.

I was taking all these risks, and I wasn't even sure of my goal.

Reaching level 10 was not going to be enough to make a difference.

Unless perhaps if I chose to become a mage, in which case I might be able to find the spell used to open a hole in the wall.

This power must come from the mages.

Or from an object that Guil possessed?

All this seemed too uncertain to be a plan.

It seemed more like a pastime.

I hadn't discovered what the different classes were yet.

I knew there were six. The assassin, the mage, probably the knight, and the archer.

I had four classes in mind.

The class that made me the most curious was that of the village leader.

I had only seen him once, but I hadn't been able to gauge what he was capable of.

Out of curiosity, I decided to head towards his house.

As I approached it, I realized it was as impressive as in my memory.

But something I hadn't seen last time caught my eye.

Along the entire length of the house, there were stalls. Small doors led to a small shop on the side of the house.

There was light inside. I decided to enter.

A person behind a wooden counter watched me.

"You're the new one?" He asked me with a high-pitched voice.

This man was thin, had short dark hair and was dressed in a brown leather apron.

"Yes." I answered.

He approached me an looked down at my feet. Was he looking at his screen?

"Do the shoes we gave you fit you well?" He asked.

I was surprised. "Uh, yes, thank you. Why, does it come from here?" I asked.

"Well, yes, where do you think it's going to come from? Do you think someone in the village is walking without shoes because they gave them to you?" He asked, in a sarcastic tone.

I said nothing.

"Well, do you need anything?" He asked me.

I looked around, the shelves were full of armor, weapons, and clothes.

"Is it free?" I asked.

"You've been here long enough to know that's not how it works here." He said in a sharp tone.

I approached the shelves to get a closer look at the shiny metal of a sword, and then there, the taut string of a huge bow.

Further away, my eyes were sparkling in front of the glittering stone of a magic scepter.

I wanted to take everything, try everything.

As I looked up, I noticed that the shelves were divided into five sections, with labels specifying the represented class.

'Assassin', near daggers and dirks.

'Archer', near bows and light armor.

'Brute', near maces and other two-handed weapons.

'Knight', near swords, shields, and heavy armor.

'Mage', near robes and staffs.

I now had a small idea of the different classes. But one was missing.

I turned around to ask a question to the man who was there.

He had returned to the counter, he was writing in a small notebook.

"Um, excuse me. There's a missing class, right?" I asked, pointing at the labels with my finger.

He looked up with a distracted look.

"What, you want us to put equipment for merchants here? What's the point? We all live here. We are the ones who create the equipment." He explained.

The sixth class was the merchant. It seemed to be the only class that was not specialized for combat.

But in such a dangerous world, why choose to become a merchant? It seemed like a risky decision.

"Well, do you need anything? Otherwise get out, I have work to do." Said the Merchant, annoyed.

I nodded and took one last look around me. I noticed a sign that read: 'The house item does not give credit' and another 'Don't forget to spend your PP before the end of the month!'. The trading system seemed to be a world of its own.

I then headed for the exit.

The orange light of the store gave way to the blue color of the night.

The sun had set. A cool breeze was caressing my face.

In the distance, the village lights shone like stars. Above my head, the tall trees rose like protectors.

I felt trapped in this village, my daily life was tiring and depressing, but there was a pleasant tranquility.

That night, I told myself that everything wasn't so bad.

I started walking towards my dormitory, tired and ready to sleep.

But as I approached the small wooden house, I saw two armored men waiting at the door.

The famous 'guardians' who defended the village in exchange for many privileges.

I decided to go past without paying attention to them. But as I approached, they drew their swords and pointed them at me.

"You, stop! You are under arrest! You are accused of stealing Black Turcos!" I heard the words but they made no sense.

I stopped, panicked.

"What?" I said, half knocked out by the words I had just heard.

In an instant one of the two men was behind me and knocked me to the ground.

The impact was violent, it took a few seconds before I could take a breath.

The guard put my hands behind my back and put very tight handcuffs on me.

Once again, I was going to be a prisoner.

Worse. I risked being sacrificed.