“I look like Peter Pan,” I said, examining my new garb.

“Is’at a famous forest warrior from where ya come?”

“Something like that,” I said.

There weren't any mirrors but the pools outside Gruda’s home gave some insight into just how ridiculous I looked. With my thumb candle lit, I looked down at the too skinny, green bean version of me.

The pants were essentially tights, and the shirt—Gruda called it a tunic—slid on like one of those Under Armor workout pullovers. Just for kicks, the Forest Gnome tossed in a brown vest made from some sort of squishy tree bark called Flesh Wood.

“It adds a touch a personality,” she said, watching me tie the vest straps together. “And it makes ya even more resistant to stabbin’.” She pulled a knife out of nowhere and demonstrated, or at least tried to, but I caught her wrist.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I said, looking down at the Gnome.

“Hey, just showin’ ya.”

“Oh, I believe you,” I said, letting go. “Let’s just, I don’t know, keep the stabbin’ at a minimum, yeah?”

She gave me a mock pouty face then flipped the knife around and offered me the handle.

“Fer the one you lost gettin’ here,” she said.

I looked at the blade, then nodded. “Thank you, Gruda.” I slipped it into my inventory. “Appreciate that.”

She patted me on the forearm. “Gods know you’ll never find the other one.”

It was the next morning. I’d slept in Gilda’s bed. I didn’t want to. It felt really awkward, but Gruda had insisted. It was a matter of practicality for her. They had two moss stuffed beds and she wanted to make sure I got a good night’s rest. Therefore, I was to sleep in her daughter’s bed. And that was that. I had to curl into the fetal position just so my limbs wouldn’t hang off, but it was better than the alternative.

While we laid there, we talked. Well, mostly I talked. I told her about my dagger, about John and Jane. My parents. I told her about my inability to hold a relationship with a woman for more than six months at a time. I told her I had trouble with authority, and about my tendency to spiral down into self-destructiveness. Then I told her about some secret, black-opt extra-government conspiracy theories I’d been studying lately, which was cut short by her alarmingly loud snoring.

After that, I took a moment to learn how to assign my experience points to greyed out abilities. It was pretty intuitive, much like everything else in my interface. After a minute or two of interpersonal debate, I designated a point to two offensive abilities: the Crunch Grenade, because I only needed 15 experience points to unlock it and it sounded pretty cool, and the Two-Finger Pow Pow because that sounded like a gun. And a gun would really come in handy in a place like this. Finally, I dropped a point into the Floating Lantern ability because, I swear, my thumb was about to fall off.

I had a newfound respect for hitchhikers, that was for sure.

I wanted to learn more about the specifics of earning experience points. Did I get them only if I killed something or completed objectives? What if I did something impressive like build a castle or run for office (if that was even a thing here)? I asked about it in my notes tab. LES sent something almost immediately following my query.

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Notification

Most experience points are distributed to adventures in preset amounts based on objectives earned. Some are given out at the discretion of the game system A.I.

And that was it, which to me meant that the whole system was pretty arbitrary. But given my experience so far, killing monsters was a good bet to win some.

As I drifted into sleep, I read through a few more descriptions of professions I’d missed out on.

Beast Wielder

Description:

Ever wanted to see the world through animal eyes? Well, now you can. This profession allows you to temporarily take control over insects, animals, and some monsters scattered throughout the world. If you get good enough, you could command entire herds and hordes at once. Utilize a spectrum of scents to rile up feral emotions or turn ferocious beasts completely docile. There is a 51% chance your pet will kill you in your sleep if you are not a Beast Wielder.

Compensated Healer

Description:

A compensated Healer uses their own life force to heal others. It can often be pretty painful—excruciating, even, at times. For making this sacrifice, and being so nice, we compensate these masochists with all sorts of goodies. They’re also really, really hard to kill. Being a Compensated Healer also grants you access to the Healer’s Sanctuary. No one really knows what they do there, but rumor has it they have whips and paddles.

Flesh Gardener

Description:

This profession is NOT for the squeamish. If the sight of guts and other squishy shit isn’t your thing, then choose something else. Unlike Necromancers who raise the dead, Flesh Gardeners grow them. All it takes is a vital organ or two, a good amount of soil, water, and sunshine, and voilà, you have an exact replica of the beast or person completely attuned to your will. If you ever see an army of mind-controled clones headed your way, you can be sure there’s a Flesh Gardener behind it all somewhere. But with any enterprise, the hard part about this profession is getting started. It takes a lot of patience. But once you get that garden growing, the rewards start flowing.

Potions Engineer

Description:

This profession comes with a comprehensive cookbook visible only to you. Learn how to brew, blend, and bake thousands of helpful potions and pastries. Everything from poisons to panaceas to cookies that go boom. Wanna get high? We’ve got about 600 ways to make you forget you’re in prison. Want to give yourself temporary super powers? Then drink up, this is the profession for you. Potions made by someone who is not a Potions Engineer have a 94.3% chance of failing in the worst way possible.

I woke up in a panic. No dream or anything—none that I could remember, anyway. I just woke up hard, fast, and screaming.

Gruda flipped off her bed shouting, “Where is he? Where’s the son of a bitch? I’ll kill ‘em. I’ll kill that …”

We had a nice breakfast after that. No cat meat this time. Instead it was something light and fluffy with a bit of sugar dashed on top.

Congratulations

You survived your first night in Lynn Ella World. Good for you. That’s better than most. Now only 9,124 more days to go. Goooood luck! You’re gonna need it.

After we ate, Gruda introduced me to my brand new, fully cooked, Feline Forest Stalker Skin Garb. The leggings and tunic had cooked throughout the night. Looks aside, the outfit felt great! I could feel the buffs working on my body. I felt lighter, more awake like I’d just pounded a keg of coffee. And there was a noticeable difference in the way I carried myself when I walked, like some invisible cheerleader was cheering me on and giving me encouraging butt pats.

Just before we said our goodbyes, I took my first deep immersive, virtual dump in Gruda’s outhouse. It felt like any other dump, to be honest. Although, afterwards I had to dictate an emergency note to myself.

Note

Do NOT wipe with Pooka Leaves. That shit burns.

Gruda gave me a bunch of food, some water skins, and a whole shelf full of devious and helpful potions to keep in my inventory. She told me, then retold me, everything she knew about Rockwallow Hollow, how to get there, how to avoid getting into trouble, and everything she knew about the Hog-Goblin slave trade network. Then she sent me on my way with tears in her eyes. She couldn’t walk more than twenty feet away from her home, so she stayed in her doorway and watched me walk all the way to the waterfall.

Even though I could see just fine, I held my thumb candle up and out the whole time, like an Olympic athlete running a torch. Last thing I needed was my day to go to shit because I didn’t take every precaution.

Then my day went to shit anyway.