A scrawny kid of 10 years, trudged through the village square. He made a point of walking in heavy footsteps better suited for a knight burdened by full plate armor. Well, he was burdened by 10 years of living and that was enough because today he would become a true warrior.
He didn’t care if he looked silly, he had a destination in mind and was eager to arrive there but appearances were important. A warrior was equally fierce in battle and outside of it.
He just wished he didn’t bump into Billy on the way. A beating before his assault could complicate things.
It was late afternoon, and the shadows from the houses along the street helped hide him from sight. It appeared that most of the villagers were inside their homes, enjoying supper. His stomach growled at the thought but he ignored it as usual.
The orphanage wouldn’t hand out food until the night bell, he had some time until then to accomplish his plan.
A warrior. His heart swelled at the thought. There would be no more beatings after that. He would face them all and come out victorious. No matter that Billy, the son of the woodcutter, had taken his size from his drunkard of a dad. Or of the others, who all had some height and size over him.
Those stupid animals. If only he had grown a bit more or had anyone to watch his back, some of those beatings might have gone differently. There wasn’t much love for him in the orphanage though. Little chance of that.
They called him the son of the wench, the harpie, who gave birth at the village square and then disappeared. Father unknown, a bastard then of mixed blood. He spat his frustration at the dirt, as he had seen farmers do when they found insects in the produce.
All of that would end tonight after he accomplished his goal.
He stood before the haunted house. It was barred with wooden planks to prevent entry. The villagers, the cowards they were, feared for any who would enter unknowingly. Pfff, what was the point of asking for help from the fancy city warriors and losing all the benefits of clearing the place?
He would do it, and finally be acknowledged. He would get a name, no more bastard this bastard that from the boys at the orphanage or the villagers that looked at him half afraid he would suddenly spawn wings. He checked his reflection each morning, and to this day he had none emerging from his back.
He handled his weapon to pry the wooden planks off the door. It wouldn’t be sensible to assault the place without any way to defend himself. He had picked off a knife from the kitchens that very morning. The last item needed for his plan to work.
It wasn’t particularly sharp, as it was mainly used to spread butter on bread, but it was a weapon, and for once he was armed.
If Billy showed up this evening, he would show him how nasty he could get.
The planks fell off with relative ease. To his surprise, they were not pinned to the door, just stacked on each other. The cowards didn’t even try to bar the way properly, he scoffed.
With a sigh of relief, as his work lessened considerably without having to dislodge a good amount of the planks, he shoved them clear of the entrance.
The villagers called the place the hollowed house but to him that didn’t mean much. It sounded like haunted, the haunted house. So he went along with it. A haunted house in the village that would make any man or woman who cleared it a Conqueror. Such a special place for him to leave it to be dealt with by outside folks.
Like scared dogs with tails between their legs, the villagers had bared the way and called for help the moment the haunted house was found out.
Ghosts didn’t scare him much, given what treasures he would receive when he cleared it. After all, he had faced worse. No ghost could beat him close to death, because they were ghosts… right? Right.
He cautiously pushed the door open, took a step inside, and closed it shut behind him. Warriors had good manners, and he would never leave a door ajar if he could help it.
The inside of the haunted house was silent. Kinda an obvious thing really, if there was none… okay he could hear a sound coming from upstairs. It sounded like someone sleeping. Was it really a haunted house? Or had he entered someone’s home?
It was something to consider but for now, he had to find out first. His legs trembled slightly, but he told himself he wasn’t scared as he slowly made his way up the stairs to where the sounds came from, ignoring the dark living room ahead of him on the ground floor.
It was a bit hard to see, but he managed to reach the top without stumbling or making any sound. He was good at creeping around, a talent he had developed to avoid the other boys at the orphanage. It wasn’t something that would make a warrior proud but… it had been necessary.
He stalked forward on the tips of his toes. The corridor was narrow enough for him to have both hands out and touch the walls, guiding his steps to the open door at the end. Then his foot hit something solid and he stumbled to a fall.
“Ahh, ahh” He exhaled when his knees hit the floor roughly. His hands saved him from headbutting it, keeping him on all fours. He heard the knife fall from his pocket somewhere around him.
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The snoring from the open door stopped and a loud rumble exited the room. He squinted his eyes trying to see better but it was too dark to see much apart from shadows in the dark.
The open door, or something the size of the door came out of it, and straightened up, as if it had been hunched before, to reach the sealing.
“Ohh, ooh,” he said from the floor, imagining a monstrous giant standing before him. He tried unsuccessfully to find his little knife, swiping at the floor with his hands.
Nothing came of his search. The giant took a step forward and the hallway shook. That is no ghost, he thought in panic, trying with ever greater urgency to find his only weapon.
Failing that again he crawled backwards towards the stairs. Haste was of utmost importance but a warrior never showed his back… ahh forget that. He stood up and made a run for it. The hallway exploded with the sound of booming heavy steps closing in.
With his next step an item caught under his shoe. It was flat and it got flung behind him as he took another step. It might have been the knife he thought.
A roar of terror from the deep trenches of the netherworld came out of the giant as it attacked. His back felt the wind swipe past it, missing him barely. With little thought to it, he jumped as he felt the imminent danger of death a hair’s breadth away.
Then he hit the wall that descended above the stairs and knew no more.
—-
There was something heavy on top of him. It was too dark to see clearly but at least he was aware he was sprawled at the bottom of the stairs. Only some annoyingly flashing letters were visible in his sight, but he was too preoccupied with the burden on himself to give them much attention.
Feeling the object with his hands made him rethink moving. It was a leg the size of…three no four times Billy. That was a lot of leg right there and even if he was not scared shitless to do anything about it, it would still take him a lot of shoving to wiggle free.
Something he was deeply concerned, would wake the sleeping giant. Why the big guy hadn’t killed him and decided to take a nap at this uncomfortable place, he didn’t know, no matter his smarts.
Ah heck, the giant even took a piss all over him while he was out. The bastard. Everything was sticky and smelled… of blood. It was blood not piss he decided. Alarmed, with his hands running along his body he checked himself but found no wound apart from a bump on his skull and the pounding headache that made it hard to think clearly.
He was relieved it wasn’t his blood. Was the giant dead? He wiggled himself slowly out of under the massive leg. In the darkness of the haunted house, the giant lying still on the stairs was a shadow of itself.
With trembling hands he went over the body, touching the rough skin, until his fingers found his little knife embedded deep in the giant’s chest. The blood that had coated the stairs and made a paddle on the floor was still gashing out of the wound.
Dead. He thought with a shiver, distracting himself with the letters flashing in front of him.
Congratulations Conqueror, you have cleared the Rank 2 Hollow; Troll’s Abode.
Earned EXP +300
You are the youngest individual to have attempted and cleared a Hollow solo. You are the first individual to clear a Hollow solo, two Ranks above you, without a class. You have earned the title Indomitable, you have gained a level.
Indomitable
Increased efficacy of desirable status effect.
Decreased efficacy of undesirable status effects.
He had made it. He was so happy he wanted to cry. He wiped the wetness around his eyes and decided that a warrior did not gloat on his victories, or cry for that matter.
He hadn’t found… the name, his new name…
Congratulations Conqueror, you have reached Level 1. Please select your class: Due to the effect of Indomitable the list of available classes has expanded greatly to include special, unique, and legendary classes.
Okay, these things started to get on his nerves. He was trying to find which was his new name but the flashing letters kept on distracting him. He hoped this was not another thing he had misunderstood. A few days ago, he had heard the villagers say that the people who conquered the haunted house would be named. It had been the start of his planning.
It was definitely somewhere here. With a little search, he should find it, if only the flashing letters went away.
Maybe it was that title thing Indom…something, it sounded long and complicated. He could shorten it to Indo. He thought it over, pressing his lips together, and feeling the top of his mouth with his tongue. He shouldn’t be picky, a name was bestowed upon him and he should accept it, as was right.
Indo.
Good. Indo thought. The first part of his plan was a success. There would be no more bastard name-calling for him, he would say his name proudly to all who would hear, or challenge him.
And for that, he needed the second part of the plan.
He found the annoyingly flashing list.
.
.
Aeromancer
.
Archer
.
Archmage
.
.
.
Beast tamer
.
Oh no, these things were in the wrong order. The most important should always be at the top. Who organized these things so poorly? He went downwards, and downwards, and downwards flipping through some creative and flashy colors and classes that didn’t interest him.
Until he found it.
.
.
Warlord
.
Warrior
.
.
He chose it immediately least it went away somehow.
Congratulations Conqueror, you have chosen… errr… Warrior. Due to the effect of Indomitable the normal class you chose is upgraded to the unique class Lucky Warrior.
“NOOOOO,” Indo shouted immediately. What the netherworld was Lucky Warrior? An embarrassment of a class to be sure.
The system message booted off like its life depended on it while Indo shouted in denial to no one in particular.
His status shined brightly in front of him in passive-aggressive mockness.
Indo
Level 1; Lucky Warrior
Titles; Indomitable
Str 1 > 3
Agi 1 > 2
Int 1 > 2
Luck 2 > 4
Waiting dumbfounded did little to help this unwanted complication. His stomach growled its urgency for food.
“Can I… at least shorten it?” Indo asked.
Indo, Lvl 1, L. Warrior.
This way he could pass it off as Lord Warrior. That did sound proper, and it could be an easy explanation, without them knowing how bad his actual class was. Stupid system offering dumb classes. He thought in embarrassment.
It was time to go back to the orphanage, a Conqueror.