CHAPTER THREE: MY FIRST QUEST
After wallowing in misery by the side of a road for a good hour or so, I calmed down enough to come up with a plan.
I had three options. I could beg people for money, and try to take things from there. I could ask for work. There were usually noticeboards of some sort in fantasy games, with quests for adventurers to undertake. I didn’t fancy my chances fighting monsters with a rusty knife, but it was my best bet.
And my last option… was to steal.
If this were a videogame, the chances of stealing would depend on my
This wasn’t just any video game. This was practically a real-life simulation. I had a feeling the monsters weren’t going to drop gold, and I wasn’t going to be able to just walk into any old house and take things. The NPCs were living people, not character sprites who would repeat the same line over and over again.
Job boards. That was my best bet. I needed to find out if they existed, and where they were located.
To do that, I had to talk to someone.
I waited by the side of the road for a long time, trying to gather the courage to ask. The sun was sinking by the second. I’d watched countless people pass by, from nobles and their guards to commoners and even children. Most of them were humans and elves, though I did see one dwarf.
Damnit. Just go! What’s the worst that could happen?
My legs wouldn’t obey me. I may as well have been a stone statue. I wasn’t a public speaker. Even talking to the store clerk made me anxious.
I’m pathetic.
“Tch…”
My fists were clenched so hard that my bones hurt. This was what I’d gained from playing games in my previous life and not becoming an upstanding citizen. I was stuck at level one, unable to even get my first quest.
“Ex… Excuse me!”
My voice came out strangled, like the squeak of a small mouse. People continued to walk past, not even sparing a glance in my direction.
I took a few steps forward and gently nudged someone on the shoulder. As soon as they turned around, I practically shrunk into my shell.
Even though he was the shorter one, I felt intimidated. The man was cloaked from head to toe, with a hood pulled over his face to conceal his features. I stared blankly for a moment, fumbling for the right words before finally speaking.
“U-Um… Is there a noticeboard around here? For… uh… odd jobs that need taking care of?”
The moment those words left my mouth, I felt as if a great weight had been lifted from my chest. It disappeared just as quickly as it had arrived once I realized I needed to now wait for a reply.
The man didn’t respond for a while. He couldn’t have been staring at me, otherwise I would have caught a glimpse of his face. I waited nervously in the middle of the street. Citizens of the city passed us by without a second glance.
After a long moment, he moved his arm with a rustle of his cloak and pointed down one end of the street. I followed the finger and tried to catch a glimpse of what he’d been pointing at, but to no avail. The crowd was simply too dense.
“Ah! W-wait…”
I turned back, only to find that he was gone. I felt the tension drain from my limbs. My heart was still beating rapidly like a jackhammer inside my chest.
I’d finally plucked up the courage to talk to someone, and this was the result. The mere thought of asking another person sent shivers up my spine.
Sighing, I made for the general direction which I’d been pointed.
***
To my fortune, the shrouded man’s instruction had been enough. It took but a few minutes of walking before I found myself in front of a large noticeboard, sheltered from the elements by a weathered tarp. Scraps of paper were pinned on it, some written in patchy handwriting, others neatly signed with a professional seal. There was one other man standing before it, skimming through the notices. I watched from the side, hidden by the bustling of the crowd as he finally made up his mind and ripped off one of the scraps of paper, tucking it into his pocket.
Loitering commoners were probably no rare occurrence; not once was I questioned by any authoritative figures. After a while, I saw an elderly couple stop before the board, pinning another scrap of paper onto it.
Once they’d left, I made up my mind and approached the board. The sun was already low in the sky, a blazing beacon of red atop a backdrop of fiery orange. I hadn’t eaten at all in this world, and my stomach was feeling painfully empty. I needed to find something, anything which would give me a source of income. Trying not to get my hopes up, I took a brief glance at the board.
As my eyes wandered along the notices, my spirits began to plummet. Most of them either required experience or were way out of my league. It seemed like all the easy, low difficulty ones were among the first to be picked up.
I cursed once again for not making more of my previous life. If only I were stronger or tougher, I might be able to take on some of these requests.
I immediately snatched the slip of paper from the board and read it.
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
There was an address and a hand-drawn map below the request. I skimmed past it to the very bottom.
I clenched the slip of parchment tightly in my hand. If I hurried, I might just make it before sundown. Surely I would be able to take on a pack of rats. This was a quest aimed at level ones like myself, the lowest of the low. It’d probably been ignored because of how small the reward was, but in my current condition I needed everything I could get.
Stuffing the piece of paper in my pocket, I began to follow the directions on the map. I didn’t have money, food or water. I had literally no possessions, except for the clothes on my back and the knife by my waist.
Hopefully, that would be enough.
***
It was dusk by the time I reached the address on the classified. It was a small two-storey house on a quiet street, surrounded by identical houses that stretched all the way down to the inner gates. Ivy crept up to the rooftops, seeping in between the rotting planks that made up the walls. In the distance were the sounds of small children running about, making use of their imaginations to bypass the restrictions of their socioeconomic status.
The whole place smelled of sweat, dirt and decay, clearly worlds away from the higher-class marketplace and the heart of the city. The ground wasn’t paved, the windows were stained and shattered, and muddy water filled the gutters, riddled with flies and their larvae.
This was probably what they called a slum.
I raised a hand to the door, and before any doubts could enter my mind, knocked. A sense of anxiety bubbled within me, but there was no longer anything I could do about it. If I’d hesitated, I would have been there for another hour, feeding the mosquitoes as I contemplated what to say.
The door opened with a soft creak and a weary, grey-haired woman opened the door.
“What can I do for you?” she scowled, eyeing me with disdain.
“I-I’m here to help with the… the rats,” I stammered, showing her the notice.
She raised an eyebrow, clearly doubtful of my capabilities, before sighing.
“Alright, come in. We’ve tried just about everything; can’t go wrong giving you a shot.”
The door opened wider, and I tentatively took a step in.
The interior of the house was dark. Most of the light came from the candles on the dining table, which the woman quickly ushered me past.
That was right. I wasn’t a guest here, I was on a mission. I must have been hungrier than I’d thought, because my stomach growled in protest at the sight of the few meagre scraps laid out on top, as unappealing as they were.
We walked down the dark corridor and stopped in front of a battered old door. I heard the sound of scampering behind it, the pattering of feet on the floor.
“Take this,” she said, handing me a candlestick. The small flame burned pitifully. There was no way it would be enough to light up the room, but it was all I had.
I nodded in thanks. The woman opened the door and shut it quickly behind me.
“Give me a shout when you’re done,” she called. “I’ll be on the other side.”
Her words fell upon deaf ears as I beheld what awaited me.
The soft orange glow wasn’t enough to light up the basement, but what little it illuminated shocked me.
The walls were made of mossy stone, the entire cavity held up by wooden beams. Most of the contents had been removed, save the odd empty barrel or crate here and there. In other words, a typical dungeon-type basement in an RPG.
It wasn’t this that shocked me. Rather, it was the floor.
It was supposed to be made of stone. The only thing I could see however, was a wriggling carpet of grey. It took me a few moments to realize that it wasn’t a carpet, but rather a group of rats. Lots and lots of rats, their thick, furry bodies rustling along the ground in search of food, their dirty teeth gnawing at any stray scraps on the ground, their ropey tails sliding across the ground. At the sight of the candlelight in my hand, there was a chorus of pained squeals.
I brandished my rusty knife in my right hand and swallowed. No wonder no one had taken the job. I wouldn’t be surprised if people had tried, and given up after seeing what awaited them.
My stomach growled again. If I couldn’t do this, my fate was pretty much sealed. I didn’t know how long I could last without food.
The scampering diminished as the rats stilled, regaining their senses. As one, they turned towards me. I felt panic rise within my chest.
Then, they attacked.
I’d never been attacked by rats before. They were far smaller in size, but there was a whole army of them, and only one of me. They swarmed over me, knocking me off the steps, sending me tumbling down onto the floor. I felt thousands of sharp, prickly teeth tear through my clothes and nip my flesh. I frantically struggled to my feet, flailing my limbs wildly, struggling to throw them off. My knife cut through something and I heard a squeal. The candlestick had fallen onto the floor and extinguished, leaving me in complete darkness.
I was drowning in a sea of pain, and furry grey bodies. I’d dropped my knife somewhere. All thoughts of exterminating the nest had left my mind. I simply wanted to live.
“Help!”
I screamed out at the top of my lungs, scrambling up the stairs, the dirty grey bodies still clinging to me. I tried to sweep as many of them off my body as possible, but every time one was thrown off, two more took its place.
There was a shout as the door above me opened, and candlelight flooded the basement. Several rats fell off in surprise, squealing at the light. I stumbled out of the basement and landed on the floor, still writhing, trying to throw off the small bodies that persistently clung onto my garments with their dirty paws.
“Eeek!”
There was a scream, and then something long and hard began smacking into me. I curled up into a ball, trying to withstand the pain.
“Get out of here, you worthless filth!” The woman assaulted me both physically and verbally. “I asked you to exterminate them, not bring them up!”
More pain racked my body as the rats were beaten off, scampering away to the corners of the room. When I no longer felt the sting of rats digging into my flesh, I was picked up by the collar and dragged to the front door.
“Don’t come here again,” the woman cried, brandishing the broom in one hand. “I should have known you’d only make things worse.”
She waved it around at a few stray rats that were scampering around her floor and booted me through the front door. It slammed shut with a bang behind me.
Clutching at my bleeding body, all I could do was lie there in despair.
I was pathetic.
Of course I couldn’t take on a rat nest. There was a reason people used traps and poison to deal with them. They were simply far too fast, too small and too numerous to take on with a weapon.
I was an idiot. I should have just resorted to begging. Pride wasn’t worth keeping over something like this.
I was lying somewhere in the middle of the road, my clothes shredded, blood trickling from small wounds all over my body. I would be lucky if they didn’t become infected.
I was hungry, thirsty, and tired. I’d lost everything except for the clothes on my back. I didn’t even have the
This wasn’t a game. It was real life.
That was exactly why I was in such a predicament. All I knew were games.
I heard the drone of mosquitoes in my ears. Parts of my body were beginning to itch. I scratched at them, my fingers coming away with blood. They continued to itch, irritating my skin, setting it on fire. I waved at the air, trying to drive them off, but they kept coming. Of course they’d keep coming, I was their prey. I was defenseless, a free meal lying in the middle of the street.
I felt miserable. I was going to die to a pack of rats and mosquito bites.
Being at the top of a virtual leaderboard meant nothing. I’d lived for seventeen years in another life, and had taken away nothing from it.
It was then, as I lay dying on the dirt-covered path, that I was saved.
I felt a strong arm grab onto me. I was lifted up off the ground and hauled over a shoulder. My body screamed in protest as blood and pus leaked from hundreds of bite wounds. I caught a glimpse of my savior, through the fog of pain that had clouded over my mind.
He was shorter than I was, wrapped up in a cloak with a hood pulled over his face. I realized this when my feet began to drag across the ground.
I’d seen him somewhere before.
Pain racked my body as I tried to remember where. The air felt like sandpaper as it rubbed against my open wounds.
He carried me forward, one step at a time, out of the slums and into the marketplace. As we passed through the gates, my mind finally shut down. It was then that I realized he was the exact same man who’d directed me to the job board.