Chapter 3—Marster
Personal Information
Name: Marco
Level: 5
Class: -
Professions: Tinkerer, Forger
Full Status
Physical Shield: 33/50
Magical Shield: 0/0
HP: 100/100
Mana: 0/0
Debuff:
Exhaustion [Lv. 6]
Penalty to Physical Attributes: -2
Physical Attributes
Strength: 7(9)
Intelligence: 11(13)
Agility: 9(11)
Endurance: 10(12)
Dexterity: 9(11)
Perception: 36(38)
Add. Attributes ...
Secondary Attributes ...
...
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Marco walked through the alley, his mind pondering his encounter with the cloaked girl as he pulled his statistics into view. The menu laid out all the details about him, but he focused on the important bits he needed at the moment, so it wouldn't clutter his vision. His exhaustion didn't seem to have lowered his perception to any unreasonable or unexpected degrees. There were no other debuffs unbeknownst to him. Was there something else he was overlooking?
Details on stealth, he thought of the command, and the chip provided him with the information.
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Stealth:
Stealth prevents detection by entities, both inanimate or animate. Its effects are increased against opponents classified as
It is offset by perception. The difference between the two attributes will determine the effectiveness of your stealth and the parameters of you being detected, if no
One stealth-point equals two points in perception (vs.
Example: Three points in perception will lose against two points in stealth.
The difference of each level between the two parties involved skews this parameter by two perception points in either direction (for more details, please check
Additional Effects vs.
4-Point-Difference: Visual obscurity
4-Point-Bonus: Slight increase in hit chance & critical hit chance on ambush.
8-Point-Difference: Prevents sound detection
8-Point-Bonus: Increases evasion.
16-Point-Difference: Hampers targeting of
16-Point-Bonus: Immune to common-grade detection items.
32-Point-Difference: Hampers targeting of
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
32-Point-Bonus: Immune to rare-grade detection items.
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She hadn't made a single peep. He crunched the numbers again, but the conclusion he reached was the same each time. Around 26 stealth-points, at least. He knew there was no magic involved since she'd revealed herself to him. So, either the girl had at the very least one rare-grade item, increasing her stealth-attribute, or she was quite a higher level than him, or both. Either way, he'd have liked a longer chat with her to find out.
Absorbed in his thoughts, Marco arrived at his destination. He looked at the walls of the narrow alley surrounding him, and shifted his feet on the ground as he gauged the distances. When he found the right spot, he stomped twice before settling in a rhythm that echoed past the run-down buildings. If any of their current owners were around, they didn't reveal themselves.
"Who is it?"
From below, a deep voice sent tremors through the stone as if it had awakened from the furthest reaches of the earth. It seeped into the body, questioning why they dared disturb its slumber and encroach on its lair. The unspoken warning tightened its grip on the heart, threatening you to leave while you still had the chance. Or something along those lines.
"It's me."
"Oh." The high-pitched squeal broke the atmosphere. "I mean, ohhh... Very well, you may enter."
He lost it. It sounded fake now. But Marco didn't have the time to correct him when he felt a heavy smash hitting from below. It bent the ground like a trampoline, sending him a few inches into the air as squeaks of surprise intertwined with the sound of something, or someone, tumbling down a flight of wooden stairs.
"Open. The lock. First." He put his hand over his eyes and sighed. "It's not that difficult... And then, for the sake of all that is me, wait until I step aside!"
If he hadn't had the foresight to invest in an expensive lock, and enhance it more than thrice, that idiot would have already splattered him against the wall like a rotten tomato.
"Oh...Oh! Yes! Lock. No lock, bad. First, look for key..." The meek voice had lost any semblance of its former, glorious strength.
"It's around your neck." Marco reminded him before he went looking wherever. What, did he have to glue it to his rotten eyes next time? He was starting to run out of ideas here...
"Ah!"
A key turned, and a square rose from the pavement. Marco had already stepped aside when it flung open, sending unsettling bursts of wind through the alley. The catapult came to an abrupt halt as its hinges forced it into place, screaming for both salvation and mercy. He better replaced them soon, otherwise, it wouldn't be long until he painted that wall in red.
"How was it, Marster?"
The hole in the ground revealed a knight in shining armor. Well, almost shining. And almost half a knight. It leaped out of the trapdoor, landing right next to Marco, where it barely reached his hips in height. He'd created the set of armor himself with an alloy of whatever was lying around. The surface was crumpled, and lacking polish, but he'd nailed that knight-look to a tee. It was questionable whether it provided as much protection as it looked like on the outside, but that hadn't been his goal when he crafted it.
"Great. Really intimidating. Keep it up." He gave the knight half a thumps-up. He thought about telling him to stop calling him that again, but why bother? It was a lost cause.
"I... I... Marster, I thought of another name... for me."
"Mmhm... I'm listening." He wasn't and walked down the staircase. It was left dark to prevent it from being seen from the outside, even though the place had already lost all secrecy. An old habit he couldn't get rid of.
"Ironmetalslicerripmegagold..." The knight babbled, closing the trapdoor before following him. "...jadeporkuber... man!"
"Pick one." So the little guy had dropped a few more words this time. They might actually get somewhere with this... Eventually.
"I... I... can not." He took off his helmet. There was a light coming from the room below, revealing his green skin and pointy ears. He massaged their reddened tips he'd stuffed under the iron casket on his head, exposing his trimmed-off fangs as he winced in pain. Marco turned to look at the pair of enormous eyes staring at him from below like an admonished child.
"I can not... because... I would lose my iten-, idend-, identity!"
He stopped, and the goblin bumped into him with his eyes and neck fixated upwards. They'd reached the part of the room he'd been forced to clean up, lest the recurring appearance of a green boulder wrecked what little he owned.
"Where did you learn that?"
"Nyle taught me."
"I'm not-, wait." He shot around, looking at the staircase. The trapdoor was still shut, leaving it in darkness. "Did you hear that?"
The goblin shook his head wildly.
"You did lock the door, right?"
"Uhhm... Yes?"
Marco sighed, bending down to take the key from his neck, and walked back up to lock the door. Nothing caught his attention. Maybe he'd been too jittery after everything that happened. But to be on the safe side, he stood between the goblin and the staircase when he was back down again.
"What was it I wanted to say..." He kept his eyes glued to the stairs. "Ah, right. I'm not forbidding you from going out as long as you keep the armor on, but stay when I'm not here. You'll leave me locked out."
"Yes. I understand. I listen. Marster and Master both say do not be seen. Do not go out without permission. But Nyle was here. I did not go."
"He was here?" He feared for the little guy's head with the way he was nodding.
"We talked. Waiting." The goblin said with sparkling eyes. "I learned lots and lots. I always do with Nyle. Idendi-, Identity. Identity. It is important for humans, he said. I asked more. Nyle always answers. Then he said, he comes back later, and left."
"Alright, good job, and thanks for letting me know." He gave the fellow a pat on the head, who closed his eyes with a wide grin on his face. "Put your helmet back on for the rest of the night. Just in case."
The goblin mumbled something about his ears hurting before stuffing them back into the helmet. Satisfied, Marco made his way through his hideout, or rather, his workshop. Half of the first room had been goblin-proofed, especially the area around the entrance. Furnace and anvil stood in one corner, connected to the same vent as the shower next to it. Both shower and toilet lacked any form of privacy, and their appearance raised many questions about their functionality.
The part of the room that didn't have to worry about falling goblins was littered with scraps, forming small towers like a miniature scrapyard. They took up all the space, blocking his way to the only other room where even more of the same lay catching dust around his workbench. The paint was coming off the walls where cracks ran through them like lightning, but the place held itself together somehow. It was more than he could ask for. Mold-free and devoid of those things, he hoped.
The place wasn't large, and his accumulated piles of junk made him quite aware of that. He dropped off his new gains, sorting them between flammable and non-flammable with half a mind. Finished, he sank into his recliner at his workbench that doubled as his bed. His eyes grew heavy, urging him for some rest, but he denied them.
He looked through his half-sunken eyelids at the stacks of items towering over him as they threatened to burry him beneath. There was just too much. It was a nice problem to have, but a problem nonetheless. He'd disregarded dismantling them for too long. Put his windfall on top of that and he couldn't ignore it any longer. He needed to find some extra time.
His hand pulled open a drawer, finding a bunch of vials rolling around. He grabbed one that contained a blueish-grey liquid and downed its contents.
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Greater Potion of Concentration consumed
Fatigue reduced for 4h.
No diminishing return.
Concentration increased.
Status Effect: Exhaustion [Lv. 6] removed [temporary]
Continuous usage may create dependency and other various health issues.
Beware that exhaustion will accumulate, regardless. Rebound may be fatal.
Exhaustion [Lv. 10] and above will cause a severe impediment to your mental faculties.
Please consult the JunkNet for further information.
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That's better. It felt like he'd gotten a full night's rest. The potions didn't come quite as cheap as sleep, but it was a necessary expense in this case.
Common grade-items had two purposes. One, wear them. They added a few attributes to strengthen yourself. A single item made little difference, but an entire set of equipment was noticeable even for worse greys. It wasn't hard to get a set, even in Junkyard, as long as you had a chip. Most people would get it within a year.
Two, you could dismantle them for materials. Anything with a grey hue was salvageable, however faint the color was. Most grey items fell under this category. Swords would be melted, guns and electrical chips taken apart, and strands of torn cloth and leather woven together. The resulting materials could be used for crafting other items, or enhancing an existing one. Forging was also an option, which produced a material with a better grade. Or build something with them, which he personally favored.
But the amount needed was atrocious, so the demand for them never ran out. At some point in the past, materials themselves had become the currency of Junkyard. Like refined iron pellets which were easy to carry around and had their own inherent value.
Marco looked around his workspace. He needed to fix the vent, and his self-made scissors could use a little sharpening. The hammer leaning against the anvil should last for another day of hard work, but he should be frugal with the water. Perhaps send the goblin on an errand, but there was enough to do in the moment. With his fatigue made away for the time being, he set out to work through the night.