———

Name: Logan | Race: Basic Human

Class: Pending

Level: 1

This is a basic human with a pending class selection; he has yet to begin to walk on any path of enlightenment. His physical physique has exceeded natural standards as a result of drug use.

———

Already know all that; nothing new, no new level. Colt sat on the stainless steel prep table, finding he didn’t care much about kitchen hygiene standards at the moment. There wasn’t anywhere else to sit since Chef forbade chairs for anyone but himself, so there were none in the kitchen. He watched the man with careful eyes. This was the second time he’d used Inspect on Logan.

Logan was busy mopping up the pasta sauce in the middle of the kitchen. It had been him who’d made the mess. Apparently, he’d had another one of his rage episodes while they were gone. Though, it could have been panic. Either were explainable, given everything.

Colt turned away. He’d scanned Jimmy and Sarah. Even Cindy—but picking her was a long shot after what Nate said. Nothing new there, except it said that Sarah was a trained martial artist. That had been useful, but he’d begun to suspect that when she was seconds away from clocking Bill. She’d been way too practiced for that conflict. Confirmation was nice, though.

Twenty minutes ticked by, and he’d taken the time to watch and think.

Dad always said that time could be your greatest friend if you let it be. One just had to know how to use it. He guessed time didn’t want to be his friend since even waiting hadn’t gotten him any further in deciding and just wasted the time he’d had.

Chef was off to the side of the Kitchen, issuing orders. Bill was playing along, enforcing them and only giving a token effort in cooking; Cindy was doing the bulk job of getting a soup together for lunch. A cassoulet, or the fancy-french soup that Chef took off the menu two months ago since he was pissed that no one could get right. They didn’t even have the right ingredients around anymore to make it, so only god knew why he’d put them to task on it right now.

Jimmy was picking up the shattered plates from Logan—Logan had to clean his mess… Nate was watching the door, ignored by Chef. As for Sarah, she was off in the corner, still staring daggers at Bill. She hadn’t dropped what he’d said.

Half the kitchen staff was running and functional. They were conducting dinner service for themselves in the middle of a hostile dungeon and not even connected to a restaurant anymore. Everything was fine, right?

Colt snorted and shook his head.

Swap gears.

With forty minutes left, he still had plenty of time to decide. First, though, he had to think about his unspent Stats. Deciding now was the best time to make that decision, he pulled up his status sheet.

———

Name: Colt King | Race: Basic Human

Icon: [Empty] | Class: [Pending] |

Level: 5

Edicts: [None]

Skills:

Inspect (Basic) - Level 3

Knives/Daggers Proficiency (Basic) - Level 5

Stats:

Strength: 13

Endurance: 10

Dexterity: 12

Intelligence: 10

Willpower: 8

Soul: 1

Unassigned Stat Points: 4

———

Now that he knew he could gain stat points naturally… It made it harder to spend the ones available. Surely, they would be more difficult to raise without spending points in the future. That’s just how video games worked. It was hard to shake the feeling that this was all just one big game. A look at the bloody bandage around Nate’s arm helped but didn’t entirely get rid of it.

No. I need power now.

One point went to strength, one to endurance, and one to dexterity. Useful stats for now, and an easy choice in survival situation.

The last… Was an experiment.

Colt held off and then put the last point into soul.

For a long second, nothing changed. Then, another shorter second, still, nothing changed. Just as he thought maybe it was an utter waste and a bad decision, a deep, satisfied sensation came from within.

The world around him seemed more real somehow—inexplicably more real, and he felt more connected to it. He saw a brief flicker of the strings of reality tugging at everything, from the string of fire as it flickered underneath the pot and screamed heat to the string of tension and strength of Logan’s arms as the hulking man barely restrained himself from breaking his broom in half.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Colt blinked, and the sensation vanished.

He was left confused, feeling that he’d just touched on something deep, ancient, and profound, yet unsure what any of it meant.

These stats need explanations.

Colt rolled his shoulders and looked around again, picking out who he’d talk to first…

Jimmy was gone. So was Bill. How long was I out of it?

BAM.

The walk-in freezer door burst open; Bill stomped out, holding up Jimmy by his collar. He was a small, skinny guy, but the way that Bill held him up by the scruff of his jacket spoke to a lot more power than Colt thought he’d had—Bill was red in the face, and a cloud of smoke left the walk-in their wake.

Slowly, the reek of weed hit Colt’s nose.

“Really? You’re sitting in the fridge smoking fucking weed?” Bill screamed—rushing right over to a wall he slammed Jimmy into.

“I offered you a puff! I figured it was a fine time to take the edge off—“

“Now is not the time for drugs, dip-shit!”

“If now isn’t the best time, when is? Holy shit, man. We’re all gonna die. Chill.”

Bill slammed a fist into Jimmy’s gut; Cindy let out a yelp, and the pot of soup she’d been cooking crashed to the ground with a heavy clank. Chef started to swear as Bill went in for another hit.

“Yeah? We’re all going to die? Wanna say that again?”

Colt stood up from the table and quickly reached Bill—Colt caught his wrist, stopping him before he could land the fourth punch to Jimmy’s gut.

Bill scowled and tried to push him off—but Colt managed to stay his ground. Bill’s eyes were wide, his nose flared, and his arm shook. The man was shocked, which he very well should be. Two hours ago, he could’ve shoved Colt around like he was nothing.

The stats are putting in work.

“Stop,” Colt commanded.

Bill jerked his wrist, and it barely moved. Colt had to pour a lot of strength into it, but at that moment, they both knew. He was stronger.

“How?” Bill asked.

“Let Jimmy go, it isn’t worth it. And, Jimmy, no more drugs—we need to stay sharp right now.” Colt ordered, but Bill didn’t drop the dishwasher.

Colt flexed his fingers, tightening his grip on Bill’s wrist, twisting ever so slightly.

The cook scowled, his jaw tightened, eyes narrowed, then winced.

After that, he let Jimmy go. The dishwasher scrambled away, rubbing his neck as he went to the other side of the kitchen, just about as far away from Bill as he could get. Bill glared, but Colt let his wrist go with a slight nod. “Don’t do that again.”

“I’ll do whatever I need to do,” Bill promised.

With that, he stalked off right towards Chef—pulling Cindy along with a quick grab, huddling up in a small group to whisper and conspire.

Planning how to stab me in the back.

Colt rubbed at his eyes.

To think of all the things that could go wrong when surrounded by monsters, the things he was worried the most about were the people around him. Colt looked at the clock.

Half-an-hour left.

Putting a point into soul had wasted ten minutes, somehow.

Dangerous.

Yet, simultaneously, that feeling had brought a sensation of one-ness he’d never fully experienced, a wholeness of being and his place in this world that left him wanting more. To understand more. Maybe, if he was lucky, he’d run across information on what it did.

Maybe after we get classes. For now, though.

Colt went right over to Sarah, having made his choice.

Jimmy was too high, Logan was too unpredictable, and Cindy would snitch all their secrets to Chef and Bill the second she knew—if tensions were high enough that things were already coming to blows, then when that bombshell dropped on the rest of the group, they needed to have a solid grasp on the power offered here.

“He’s dangerous, good on you to step in and stop him. Jimmy didn’t deserve that.” Sarah muttered quietly as Colt got near.

“Control through violence. It makes him feel big and safe, but it isn’t like that. None of us are safe. You know what Nate and I said is true, right? There are monsters out there.”

“There’s monsters in here too.”

Colt ran a hand through his hair; Jimmy was curled up in a corner. Chef was yelling at Cindy for spilling the stew—as if it even mattered. Logan was nearby, face red and a few minutes from another tantrum. The thought of him raging out made Colt nervous.

“You’re not wrong. Me and Nate are headed out again soon. I don’t trust Bill. You looked like you knew what you were doing; are you going to punch him?”

“Seven years of Muay Thai. Yeah. I know what I’m doing, and yes, he had it coming. Not exactly smart to pick a fight when you don’t have to. Sure. But he had it coming, and I could have got a good hit or two in.” Sarah rolled her shoulders. “Just tense. Being in here is like being in a pot coming to a boil; I feel it heating up all around me. It’s going to cook us alive.”

“Doesn’t have to. We could use another set of hands. Practiced hands. It’s dangerous out there, and each bit of help we can get will go a long way.”

As he said this, Logan snapped the mop he was using in half—tossing both halves against the walk-in freezer with an echoing clang. Immediately, he started shouting, and Bill calmed him down. Whispering in his ear and shooting glances at Colt and Sarah.

Sarah curled her nose, looked at Bill, then sighed. “Why not ask Logan? He’s stronger.”

“I can’t trust him to keep a level head. We haven’t really got that far outside of the kitchen, and this time we’re going as far as we can to get an idea of what’s going on.”

The whispering between Logan and Bill kept going—now the two of them were looking over toward Sarah and Colt; it made his skin crawl, knowing that on the other side of the kitchen, Bill was already scheming.

“Alright, I’m in. This place is already collapsing. You two are as good as it gets in here. Don’t screw me, and I won’t screw you.” Sarah promised, stretching out her arms. “When are we headed out?”

“I’ll check with Nate. We wanted to go in an hour, it might be a good idea to cut that short. Pick out a weapon. Count on heading out in five.” Colt stood up, walking away from Sarah. Both Logan and Bill watched him as he moved. It felt like being a rabbit under the gaze of a coyote; at any minute, it would pounce and eat him whole.

Five minutes later, he delivered on the promise. There was some complaining from Bill, saying that they should take along another man and that if they died out, he wouldn’t bring their corpses back.

It was about a nice farewell and good luck he could expect.

Chef called them dumb as well—saying they should be cooking, and he wasn’t paying them to screw around in the alley. Colt was starting to suspect something was breaking in the guy’s head, but it was a problem for later.

With Nate and Sarah in tow, they went back into the dungeon outside their door.

And right into a raggedy red kobold with a sword.