"Naifu, I thought you said this game was hard," Spencer said, rowing the boat across the massive expanse of the river. "We've managed fine, I reckon. No big surprises. Barely even used our healing potions."

Butterknife remained silent as Spencer rambled on.

"Already at level 6 each. The loot's been lucky. Damn lucky, what with my new club and your armor. You're so scary now."

Butterknife's obsidian plate mail seemed to swallow the sunlight, only to release it in deep purple-black flashes that danced across the armor's curves and edges.

"Bit too scary, if you ask me."

Butterknife just frowned on ahead. "Think of the bigger picture," he said at last. "What have we really accomplished?"

Spencer set the paddles down, scratched at the stubble on his orcish chin, and then raised his hands doing air quotes. "The experience of gaining experience. Objective one. We're more than halfway to level 10. It hasn't even been a full 24 hours yet. And the Journey app told us we had about three days to gain experience and stop the zombies."

"That is true, but I doubt Jiem is going to make it so simple. In the beta builds, large quests usually consisted of several parts, which involved traveling to various areas of the world. Sure, we are level 6, nearly 7, with some decent gear, it's taken us a full day to reach Equinox, and we aren't even sure if Equinox is the destination we should be going to solve the zombie quest."

Spencer picked up the paddles and started again, moving the water gently with each rowing motion. "You said it yourself though, we may not even need to finish the quest if we find a Synapto employee in Equinox."

"It's still a long shot," Butterknife said. "We can't leave anything to chance. If we can't find a Noushead who works at Synapto here in this city, we're going to have to commit to the zombie quest. There will be no time for both."

"I wouldn't say that," Spencer said. "In the real world, we're only about a 45 minute walk from your flat in Barking to Synapto's office in Canary Wharf. I still say we should just walk over and see if anyone's there."

"Too risky. It's better to stay in my flat for the time being until we are certain someone can actually meet us there. If Firewall Paul manages to regain control temporarily, we can engage my faraday cage and be protected. We don't know how things will be on the streets of London right now."

"If you say so, Mr. Oath Paladin."

Butterknife turned his attention from the city walls to the docks as they approached. He had to admit, luck was on their side with the loot they acquired from their encounters.

Spencer's newest club came from a halfling two-headed mob. The pint-sized monster couldn't even lift the club off the ground and Spencer obliterated the little beast in a few swings. The club itself, Spencer said, made him much stronger, but Butterknife never bothered to check its properties. He still wore the slippers from his London flat, but other than that, he looked well-equipped.

After that, they had cleared out a nest of level 6 imps that flew around screeching, but were easily killed with a single blow each. The leader of the group was a level 8 monster simply called Pimp. Pimp looked the same as the other imps, except he wore a fur coat and a copious amount of gold chains around its neck.

Spencer was a terrifying force in battle, especially when in an alcoholic frenzy. He shotgunned two full beers and went on a rampage. He spun, smashed, and pulverized the mobs like he had been made for it. Towards the end, when an imp tried to flee, he used Bottle Throw with such power that the imp simply exploded before the typical confetti animation could trigger. Butterknife strained to keep up with his raving teammate.

Pimp went down without causing a single point of damage to either one of them. The first move it made was shuddering intensely, which somehow created another imp. Spencer destroyed the imp in seconds and ran towards Pimp in deranged violent insanity, laughing all the while. Pimp started enchanting something, but before it could finish, Butterknife hit it with a Righteous Lecture, stunning the creature. Spencer smashed it with his club, and Butterknife came down with his Moral High Ground smite, ending Pimp's life in just two hits.

The creature apparently was a miniboss because the experience nearly put them both at level 7, and in addition to the loot it dropped, an actual treasure chest materialized in a weird cut scene where they could not control their VR bodies. This was where they had found Butterknife's new armor.

Wiki: Legendary Umbral Plate of the Main Character

Forged from volcanic obsidian so awesome looking it makes other armors feel like background extras, the Umbral Plate pulses with black and purple waves that scream "I'm the protagonist, and I know it." In the distant past, when the Hero Eponymous proclaimed that he didn't feel pretentious enough, he ordered the forging of this set by the Order of the Unnecessarily Dramatic Paladins - Because sometimes, saving the world is less about the world and more about style. Imbues the wearer plot armor so thick that even the most catastrophic battle looks like a dramatic character-building moment.

Grants the following effects:

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

+5 Armor Class

+5 constitution

+40% hide in shadows

All incoming damage is reduced by 10%.

Reflects 3% of incoming damage back in the form of necrotic damage

Butterknife felt that this armor could be used all the way until the end game. The Armor Class upgrade alone would make him unhittable for the vast majority of enemies around whatever his current level would be. He was tempted to try to solo a monster 4 levels above him just to see how often they hit him.

Then when considering the extra benefits, the plate became invaluable. Especially the hide in shadows skill. When combined with his race selection, he now had a 90% success rate to hide in shadows, which could be very useful for sneaking around powerful enemies, or smiting one for a critical hit.

"About a dozen zombies on the docks," Spencer observed. They alighted onto the wooden dock and Butterknife tied down the boat. Doubtful they'd need it again but he didn't want to leave it adrift.

Spencer wielded his club and immediately started bashing the zombies. Butterknife casually walked along the path of destruction, keeping out of his way. Abruptly, Spencer paused, looking down at something.

"I can't do it," he said.

Butterknife now saw what he was looking at. A baby zombie. The tiny creature wore a slightly gray-green onesie with spaghetti stains all over it. A slogan across the front read "My First Apocalypse" in a bubble font.

"When these things inevitably turn hostile, even this little one will be a threat to your life," Butterknife said.

"Are you mental? It's a bloody infant."

"We have to kill it," he said, grasping for his mallet.

Spencer stepped in front of him, his towering figure looming over him. "Sod off. This is where I draw the line."

Mallet poised in hand, he met the half-orc's eyes, his companion's eyes. Tension was thick in the air. "It's a computer program. Not real. It's designed to kill you."

The big man only leaned in closer, soured breath reeking out. "No. Killing. Babies. That's final."

He decided it wasn't worth the effort, and they moved on. Spencer was layered like an onion, he thought. There were the drunken bloodthirsty layers, and the advise-giving guardian of zombie baby layers.

The dock gates were closed, but a city guard pointed at a ladder they could climb to get into the city. They requested directions to the city's Quest Board, and were on their way.

Butterknife wasn't absolutely sure this would work, but in the previous builds Jiem created, players could add their own quests to a Quest Board. Hundreds of Nousheads would pass by the board looking to take on new quests for items, gear, and experience. This would be their first attempt to broadcast a message to everyone that they were looking for a Synapto employee.

The dockyard led to the slums.

"Welcome to the Equinox Waterfront District", a greasy NPC said to them. "If you're interested in waterfront property, I may be of great service."

By the looks of things, Butterknife thought the "waterfront property" for sale might actually be in the water. The slums seemed to defy physics, just stacks and stacks of buildings on top of one another, rickety wooden walkways that creaked as peopled walked, and a maze of rope bridges.

The local market stalls were wherever someone could wedge a plank between two buildings. As they passed, he saw a man selling fish from someone's window, questionable looking bread from under some stairs, and a potions peddler from what might actually be a bathroom.

The whole place looked like game of architectural Jenga, where every piece seems crucial yet simultaneously ready to fall.

"Ooiiiiiii, hansum man!" came a feminine voice. He turned to find the source, and two human women approached, wearing bits of cloth over their breasts and skirts that left little to the imagination. They flashed smiles.

He examined one of them.

Wiki: Beach Road Freelancer. Level 5.

Life is hard when money is scarce, and no one knows this better than the Beach Road Freelancer. Throughout the years, they have developed a knack for survival by profiting off lonely, overweight men who love to brag to their friends how they they keep pulling 9's and 10's from the local tavern.

These cunning women have an incredible talent to make you feel hotter than a spoon in a crackhouse on payday. They can't give you true love or self-respect, but they can sell you the illusion of both for a few hours at a time.

"My name Lek," one of them said. She nodded to her companion, who was already tracing a seductive finger up Spencer's chest. He was smiling so wide it seemed to escape the confines of his face. "My sister name Supaporn."

"You want lady?" she asked. "Good time." She moved closer.

Suddenly, the word Charmed appeared over Spencer's head.

Butterknife checked his minimap. White dots. They weren't hostile mobs, but they weren't harmless NPCs either. His head started to feel woozy, and a pleasant tightness formed in his trousers. He pictured himself brushing Lek's dark hair away from her face, leaning in to kiss her. He found himself staring at her breasts.

Shit, he thought. And bit the inside of his cheek hard. Blood swelled, filling his mouth with a metallic taste.

"I'm sorry, ladies," Butterknife said, swallowing blood. "We are in a bit of a hurry." He picked up some loose moss off the wooden walkway and threw it at Spencer. It landed with a satisfying splat on his face.

"When you come back see me?" Lek said, puffing out her lips.

"We just need to do a little business, and then we'll come back."

Her voice rose a few decibels and she thrust her chin up. "You no come back see me! I no trust you!"

With that, the two ladies quickly hurried off.

Spencer peeled the moss off his face, and as the two disappeared from view, the Charm debuff went as well.

"We need to be careful," Butterknife said. "It's not as simple as hostile and non-hostile."

Cache: "Oh... oh dear. OH DEAR! Master Butterknife, I regret to inform you that we appear to have experienced what one might call a... slight... monetary reorganization without your consent. Your gold, which I had meticulously organized by mint date and shine factor, has... has...

An avatar of the Cache app appeared wiping his face with a handkerchief.

It's VANISHED! Along with your collection of gemstones that I had alphabetized by color wavelength! The thieves didn't even have the common courtesy to leave a receipt! Or arrange the remaining items by size and potential resale value!

"Fuck", both of them said in unison. Apparently Spencer had also been robbed. Spencer grabbed for his club, intending to give chase, but Butterknife put a hand on his shoulder to calm him.

"You're going to let them go?!" the half-orc said.

He sighed. "Look, they're professionals and these slums are a labyrinth. There's no way we'll find them."

"But they took all our fucking gold!"

"Either this is the start of a new quest, which we don't have time for, or they're going to try to lure us into a fight with the city guards, which we don't have time for."

Wide-eyed and fuming, Spencer said, "I had over 1000 gold!"

"We'll get more. Come on. Let's get out of these slums." He walked onwards.

"I was going to buy some shoes," Spencer whimpered behind him.