MATERIAL ‘[BROKEN] PLATE’ HAS BEEN COLLECTED x3
I stare at the notification, a drop of dopamine entering my brain as I see the items appearing in my inventory. I walk around the room and open anything that isn't locked, my hands quickly brushing over everything that isn't nailed down.
ITEM ‘{IRON} KNIFE’ HAS BEEN COLLECTED x8
ITEM ‘{IRON} FORK’ HAS BEEN COLLECTED x5
ITEM ‘{IRON} SPOON’ HAS BEEN COLLECTED x3
“Hey goblin, you're nearly done there?” A man's voice comes through the broken front door, a metal helmet peers at me and the chaotic kitchen.
“She told me you do this every raid but I still can't believe it. '' He says, I start calculating how much his steel plate helmet would be worth to the right player. I pick up a chair and chuck it at him, a grunt follows and the room is filled with splinters as a great sworn hits the floor below him.
MATERIAL ‘[BROKEN] WOOD FURNITURE’ COLLECTED x 3
“FUCK, can you stop using me to brake shit or atleast give me some bloody warning” he sighs and puts away his sword “boss said you want to collect the bodies before the boss spawns, or we will just burn them.” I smile and laugh, this wasn't the first time I used my ‘babysitter’ to break some of the items down to material level. Only he understood that it was important, a chair would fit in the inventory and a few pieces of oak wood would sell as good firewood. At Least this guy does better than the archer I kept throwing used potions vials at, I mean she did level her dodge skill up quite a bit.
“She's right, they are a lot easier to collect when they havent been shredded by the boss” I walk past him, turning off my notifications. I never had a problem with collecting bodies, but I even felt bad reading the names and ages of some of them.
The village looked the same in every raid instance, twenty seven buildings surrounded by a small wooden wall. The location of the large stone altar covered in bodies is the only thing that changes. The loose pieces of broken buildings and used weapons not attached to anything disappeared as I walked past.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
The smell of blood and iron grows as I walk towards the altar, a large group of guild members stand around the altar. Blood flows from the corpses onto the altar, flowing upwards towards the blood sphere above it.
“Would you mind clearing these up jake? I don't want to deal with minions when the tanks pull the aggro” The guild leader says, staring at the blood sphere. Her real hair and eyes shining like flames.
The bodies disappear one by one, my eyes passing over each of their fear stricken faces. I know that they are just npcs, pieces of code, but the blood and tear covered faces of these people still ache me to the core.
No one ever asked what I did with the bodies. I had a bad reputation with most guild members because of how I acted during raids. Truthfully I brought them all to the temple after the raids to have them purified and buried. The occasional body might end up with the mages and a rogue necromancer if they have the coin, but the church usually had the best body to value ratio. I was even granted a title of holy undertaker which allowed me to carry bodies at a decreased weight gain.
“Call me when you're done, im grabbing some dinner” the last of the bodies disappeared as I walked into the nearest building and logged off.
My lips feel dry as I pull off the helmet, the aircon long being ineffective at circulating air through piles of clothes, newspapers, old parts and anything else I could find and fit through my door. I place the helmet next to the three other headsets, two non-working and the other a model too old to work with current games.
The floor long having disappeared beneath my stuff, I walk towards the kitchen, the room long in disuse apart from the fridge. The stove has been removed due to several incidents when my collection of tea towels caught on fire.
The fridge is empty as usual, used condiment bottles fill the door shelves. I looked around the room, nothing edible at first glance, placing my hope that the fast food place down the street would still be open at whatever time this is.
I had long stopped using wallets as I brought more back to the apartment, money now resided in my five year old pear of steel capped boots I left by the door. The air was cold outside once I managed to push everything away from the door, mail long having created a mound behind my door. The coupons in them could be useful, if i ever decided to buy food in bulk.
It was late at night, or early morning judging by the street lights being on and the lack of cars. My muscle memory takes me on the usual track to the newest fast food shop, the thoughts of how much I had and what I could buy flowed into my mind. A memory of dipping fries into a thick shake is interrupted by someone walking past me bumping my shoulder. I feel something hit my shoe, a ball of some sort, I reach down to pick it up, ignoring the white lines on the ground beneath it. Picking it up brings warmth to my cold fingers, I look up and grab the person's jumper trying to get their attention.
“Hay Mate! You dr-” I was interrupted by a horn in my ear, a truck was definitely weird at this time of night.