Morgon’s Tavern was the weirdest building I had ever seen. One of the structural beams was a living tree with branches and leaves blooming inside and outside of the tavern, and that wasn’t even the strangest part. The roof was a mixture of corrugated metal panels, red clay tiles like a Spanish colonial villa, and patches of straw clumped dangerously close to a smoking brick chimney. There were glass windows, paper-thin partitions, and a few doorways set high enough that stepping out of them would mean falling to certain death and the only thing covering these death-traps were strips of beads.

Serilla carried me inside and things only got weirder. There were cubbi holes with hanging paper lanterns, rows of benches, a stone fire-pit, a sandy fighter-pit, a dozen hammocks hanging from red stone pillars, and a bar made of banana-peel-yellow wood behind which stood a giant dwarf.

A giant dwarf is a human-sized dwarf who maintains their proportional width. Meaning, they are more than twice as wide as a muscular man and almost square-shaped. This particular dwarf had a red beard and a chef’s hat. I guess he’s Morgon…

Morgon rapped a gavel down on the bar to gain the tavern-goers attention then pointed his little gavel— that’s a judges hammer— directly at me and Serilla.

“No babies,” he said. “And you’re barred Serilla. Clear off.”

“You can’t bar me, Morgon. My base is here,” said Serilla. “Besides this isn’t a baby. This is the Berry Berry King.”

“I told you already, I’m not the Berry Berry King!” I shouted in an embarrassingly babyish manner. These little vocal chords are the worst.

“No babies!” said Morgon.

“Ugh, way to blow our cover,” Serilla mumbled to me, then quietly added. “Play along.”

She turned around and started walking back towards the exit. “I’ll just leave this baby outside for the wolves then.”

“Wolves?” I asked.

“Or the Rhinotaur,” said Serilla. “I heard the Rhinotaur was spotted near here.”

Rhinotaur?

The giant dwarf behind the bar shrugged nonchalantly and slung his gavel into a strap on his arm. “No babies allowed in here, Serilla. You know the rules. It’s too dangerous.”

“You’re right, pops,” she said pleasantly. “He’ll be fine outside.”

She stepped out and placed me next to the stony path that led to some manner of stable.

“Well, thanks,” I said. “I guess I’ll be fine from here.”

Serilla chuckled and stepped back inside the tavern.

It was a dark night, not quite stormy, but certainly cloudy. I felt the cold stones beneath me even through my fluffy red onesie. I need to find a new outfit. Preferably my old Rusty Longshanks. I wonder what the fuckers in Pentamorel did with my gear?

I looked around for some form of shelter to pass the night in. The stable was probably my best bet, if I could find a way to ignore the smell of horse shit. I started crawling towards the dark squarish outline when a pair of hands whipped me into the air.

A second later, I was back inside the tavern looking out at the customers from behind the bar. Morgon’s big red beard hung down beside me tickling my cheek as he rocked me in his arms.

“Alright, kiddo,” he whispered. “There, there. You’re safe here, lad. Rest, rest. Hush, hush.”

Serilla burst out laughing from the other end of the bar. She sprayed a mouthful of ale in her sudden mirth. The orc beside her was looking somewhat bereaved, but her laughter was contagious and he soon settled back with a smile.

“Morgon, you’re too soft,” she said.

“Shut up,” Morgon grumbled. “This babe needs rest. Where did you steal him from?”

“I didn’t steal him. I found him up at Olbanks pass.”

“The pass?” Morgon’s voice pitched up. “What were you doing up there? It’s dangerous, kid.”

Serilla avoided eye contact. “Never you mind what I was doing, old man.”

“If you'd been trapped up there in the daylight, I'd never ‘av seen you again. So don’t tell me never mind, girl. What was this little one doing up there?”

“Hiding in a bush,” she said. “Why are you interrogating me? he can talk.”

Morgon rotated me to face him. “Can you talk, little one? Can you?”

“Yes, I can talk.” I said. “You can put me down too. I’m not a baby. I’m…” I don’t know.

“I’m Null,” I finished lamely.

“Well are you now?” He smiled. “Null, eh? That’s a nice name. Bit girly, I suppose, but human names often are. What were you doing up on the mountain pass, lad?”

“That’s where she spawned me,” I said. Shit, I’m supposed to keep my mouth shut about things that could be heretical.

Morgon’s bushy red eyebrows rose up over his forehead.

“Interesting,” he mumbled to himself. “So you aren’t no normal baby after all. Who are you then, really?”

“I told you,” I said, anger rising. “I’m Null. That’s all I know. Except that I need to get back to Pentamorel so I can destroy the whole fucking city and get my friend and my gear back.” My frustration wasn’t at the dwarf, but at the hopelessness of my situation.

Serilla had wandered closer and was listening as she drank.

Morgon placed me down on the bar and crossed his arms in front of his chest. A few of the nearby patrons’ ears seemed to twitch at my outburst. I seriously need to learn to keep my mouth shut.

Morgon stared at me for a few more moments, then threw his head back and laughed. “I reckon I ought to properly introduce myself. I’m Morgon Dreadhammer, owner and builder of this here tavern. I also happen to be the Gladium quartermaster.”

I stared at him nonplussed. The Gladium was one of the factions the council had represented at my trial, but other than that I knew nothing about them. I guess I’m supposed to be impressed.

“That means I’m honour bound to protect Pentamorel from any threats,” he added.

“Oh,” I said. Uh oh. I just threatened to destroy the whole city.

His gavel appeared suddenly in his hand and before I could even blink, it had transformed into a warhammer as big as the giant dwarf himself.

“Wow,” I said. I figured there was no point trying to escape, so I just admired the hammer. It was pretty awesome. As execution weapons went this one was worthy. Guess I’ll be paying another visit to AIAI…

Morgon tapped the head of the hammer in his palm. “Since you’re somewhat unarmed and defenceless, I think it’s only fair that I give you time to prepare yourself. What do you say kid, we’ll fight at noon tomorrow?”

“I…” Am I seriously expected to fight this guy? “I guess, that sounds fair…”

The tavern boomed with the laughter of a dozen patrons. Apparently, they were all listening in on our conversation.

Serilla leaned over the bar and started pouring herself another drink.

“Pay for your last,” said Morgon.

“Put it on my tab,” said Serilla.

“No chance. Pay up or get out back and do some dishes.”

“One more, then I will,” she promised.

Morgon nodded, then walked to the other end of the bar to serve a pack of goblins.

Serilla slumped down onto a tree stump next to where I sat on the bar. “See, I knew he’d look after you.”

“Look after me?” I asked. “I’m pretty sure he just agreed to kill me tomorrow.”

“Nah,” said Serilla. “He won’t hurt you. He just gave you a whole night to run away. He won’t come looking for you. Well, unless you actually lay siege to Pentamorel, but I gotta give it you straight, my Berry Baby, I don’t think you have it in you.”

“We’ll see.” I said.

Serilla sipped her drink as she considered me. “What have you got against old Mushroom Town anyhow?”

I shrugged. “They stole my friend and my gear. They fucking betrayed me.”

“Did they steal your berries?”

I decided to ignore her teasing. One of the strategies for dealing with people who make terrible jokes is to just act like it doesn’t annoy you.

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Serilla laughed and leaned forward suddenly to kiss me on the forehead. “You have a vein on your head that throbs when you're angry.”

I felt my cheeks burn red and decided to change the subject.

“You called him pops,” I said. “But… you kind of don’t look anything alike. Isn’t he a dwarf and you are… an elf?” Not ‘are’ but ‘were’… She might have been an elf once, but she’s an elf no longer. Her race was clearly undead.

“Great tact, kid.” Serilla took a sip of her beer. “I was an elf, yes. But I’m not anymore. I was bitten by a vampire. I died and was raised as his thrall. And that’s probably how I would have stayed, if not for Morgon. This was back when he was an adventurer. He killed the vampire that changed me, but for some reason he spared me. He protected me long enough that I could escape my thrallhood.”

“What’s a thrallhood?” I asked

“Certain creatures can reanimate or possess their victims. Vampires, Zombies, Necromancers, there’s a bunch of different kinds. I was enthralled by a vampire. It was like a terrible nightmare that I couldn’t wake up from, but Morgon kept me safe and eventually I reached level five and got to pick a class and well, here I am.”

“Nightmare,” I prompted.

“What you think I’m not going to pick a good class just because its got a scary name? I’m already undead, so it’s not like I’ll be able to fit in with the normies anyway.”

“I guess,” I said. “So what about Morgon. What class is he?”

“Morgon’s a Gladium Champion, a Quakebringer. He’s practically a walking god. Honestly, if you’re trying to figure out his weaknesses don’t bother.”

Was I that obvious?

“Don’t fret about tomorrow, baby,” she said. “We’ll sneak out at dawn and I’ll show you some cool stuff on the road.”

----------

There were fights in the pit throughout the night. If a fighter won 100 matches in the pit, they could challenge a member of the Gladium to earn a place in the faction. Alternatively, they could kill a member of the faction in a witnessed duel to earn a spot without doing the hundred fights beforehand, but that didn’t seem to be a common occurrence.

I napped for a while, but the fights were more interesting than sleep.

Actually, the fights were incredible. I didn’t see anyone above level 10, but they were all still monstrous in power and speed. I wondered what level Brother Lecter, that bastard who killed me had been, but I really had no idea.

Imber and Vidari had both been level five and I had fought pretty well against those guys. I had realised that levels weren’t everything. Stats were also important. For example, if I was to join a party with someone who was really high level and they were to earn me lots of XP, I would soon level up, but I wouldn’t gain any stats for myself.

Losing all my gear and skills had been heartbreaking, but I actually had a pretty good opportunity to make the most of the easy stat criteria in the early levels. If I could avoid gaining XP from anything other than Stat increases, I could build an optimal level-to-stat ratio. The only issue was I wouldn’t benefit from many perks. My Mind stat was still only 1. If I wanted to unlock the Geek perk, I would need to raise it to 5 before levelling or I would need to level up five times.

Reginald had told me that I could improve my Mind by reading. There weren’t any books in the tavern. But there was a fighting pit...

I remembered Gundyr the giant from my trial. He was Gladium too, just like Morgon. These guys certainly fit a type. Raw individual power. The Gladium was all about fighting man-to-man, or dwarf-to-giant, and proving your strength against a single opponent. I kind of dig it.

After seeing so many fights in which both challengers fought tooth and claw, until blood painted the sand red, and the heavy thuds became the steady repetitive drum of exhausted determination and resilience, I made up my mind to stay and keep my word.

“You what?” Serilla asked. She had slept somewhere below the tavern, apparently she had a bedroom in the basement. She had changed her clothes too. She still wore the same tidy black leather armour, but the clothes underneath were different. I guess she doesn’t have magic gear, except maybe the armour? Otherwise she wouldn’t change it.

She also had a travelling pack with her. She was ready to leave and travel with me after knowing me for just a few hours. It was a kind gesture and, honestly, it showed once again that not everyone in this cursed world was out to fuck me over. Although...she also just wants to get out from under Morgon’s overprotective roof. Still… she's a good person. A good and annoying person.

“I’m going to stay and fight,” I said, setting my jaw. “I agreed to fight, so I’m not running out. I keep my word.”

“Baby, the reason he said to fight today at noon was so you could leave,” she said. “He’s not expecting you to be here.”

“Then, I’ll have the element of surprise,” I said.

“That’s…” she caught my expression and laughed. “That was a joke.”

“Yes,” I admitted. “I’m here all week.”

“You’ll be here for eternity once we bury you out back.”

“If I die, I die,” I said. “But I’m not running. I meant what I said about destroying Pentamorel. Those fuckers are going to pay. I'm not backing down.”

“From what you explained last night, it’s not even the whole city that betrayed you. Just your crush.”

“She wasn’t my crush,” I said. “I hate her.”

“Because she stole your squirrel.”

“She got me killed!”

“Yet, here you are. Still alive…” said Serilla. “More alive than some of us. You really want to throw that away out of spite?”

“I can’t just forget about it. They have my gear and my friend. I have to save Riffy. I made a promise to him too. We are in a party. Well, we were and we will be again. We're going to travel together. I made a promise.”

“You make a lot of promises.”

“I do,” I said. “And I’m going to start keeping them.”

“Fine,” she said, picking up her pack and storming out of the tavern.

I was about to follow her outside, but then the next fight began. Besides she was much faster than me, I only had tiny legs.

----------

I still had a few hours until my duel with Morgon, so I stepped outside to clear my head and think about what I could do to prepare.

I began with the basics: push-ups, sit-ups, and squats. Nothing happened. My Stats stayed the same. Although I did earn a few laughs from onlookers.

I gave up on that and walked around to try find a quieter place to think. Behind Morgon’s Tavern, I found a small shelter of trees and as I was standing look up at the thick trunk in front of me, I had the best idea ever.

Of course... I should do what I would do if this was a game and I had just loaded in.

I balled my tiny hand into a fist and did what gamers do when they spawn into a new world with no tutorial and no idea whatsoever what the system expects of them.

I punched the tree. I punched it hard. It hurt. I punched it again. And again.

Stat Increase: Brutality +1.

Mindless violence.

“I’m a genius,” I admitted.

Next I found a stick and tested its balance in my palm. It’ll do.

I threw it at the tree.

Stat Increase: Brutality +1.

You landed a ranged attack.

I picked up the stick and threw it again. This time it snapped in half and fell to the ground. I wasn’t rewarded with a Stat increase, but the broken stick gave me another idea. I collected up small twigs and dried leaves and began stacking them into a small pyre.

“What are you doing?” Serilla was sitting above me in the canopy.

I screamed.

“Don’t fucking do that,” I said.

“Do what?”

“Sneak up on people.”

“I didn’t sneak up on you,” she said. “I’ve been here the whole time. You came to me.”

She fell gracefully from the branches at the top of the tree and landed beside me. “So what are you doing?”

“I’m building a campfire, so I can learn how to create fireballs.”

She started to laugh, then stopped herself. “Oh, you’re serious?”

“I have a stat in Magic which means I have some basic ability in Elemental, so yeah. I’m going to learn how to use a fire skill.” If I sound confident, maybe it will work.

“That’s really dumb,” said Serilla. “I’m in.”

“No, its—” I realised what she’d said. “You’re in?”

“Yeah, BBK,” she said. “Let’s fucking burn this place to the ground!”

BBK? Oh... “I’m not the Berry Berry King.”

“How are you going to start the fire? Do you have a flint hidden in that little red suit thing?”

“No,” I said, glancing down at my onesie. I need to find a change of clothes. “Do you have something in your pack?”

“No,” said Serilla. “But we can just steal a lantern from the tavern. Beardface won’t notice.”

“You get the lantern. I’ll make the campfire,” I said. “I want to test something.”

“Yes, King,” she said.

“Don’t call me that,” I said.

“You got it, baby.”

“My name is Null!”

“You berry believe it,” Serilla yelled over her shoulder as she jogged back towards the tavern.

I toddled around the wooded cluster picking up sticks to build my campfire with. I had piled enough to get a pretty good fire going, but I still hadn’t gained a point in Tinker… which was kind of the whole point.

I tweaked the arrangement of sticks around and placed a final twig sticking up out of the top.

“Tadaah,” I said.

Nothing happened.

“Campfire complete!”

Nothing.

Serilla strolled up beside me with the lantern. “You want me to set it ablaze or…?”

“I’ll do it,” I said, reaching for the lantern.

“Be careful, you’ve only got little arms.”

“I’m not a baby,” I said.

“You kind of are though.”

I stuck a twig into the fire burning inside the lantern and then tucked it under the wood stack. As the fire trickled up through the pile of dry leaves and sticks, the warmth reached up to me. A stream of smoke blossomed up into the canopy above. I breathed a heavy gust onto the ember and was answered with the snap and crackle of a growing flame. Finally, the campfire roared into being with an orange glow.

Stat Increase: Tinker +1.

Bonfire lit.

New Skill unlocked: Basic Blueprint.

“Yes!” I pumped my fist as the Skill update flashed before me.

I immediately went to set Basic Blueprint to active in my one skill slot, but then paused as I read the description.

Create a blueprint of a single Mundane Item you have created. Requires one blank scroll.

"Damn." I had planned on learning how to spam campfires in the hope that would unlock fire as an ability for me, but I didn’t have a blank scroll. That’s an experiment for another day, I guess.

I held up the biggest stick I had found in my search of the area and poked one end into the fire. Once it was good and burning, I struck the tree with it.

Nothing happened.

I had a feeling it wouldn’t work like that. I need to touch the fire with my own skin. It has to be real. It has to be dangerous.

I took a deep breath to steady myself. I should say something cool before I do this.

I held my hand out in front of me with my fingers flat with my palm like a blade and prepared to plunge into the fire and strike the tree while the fire was still hot on my hand.

I exhaled slowly.

I focused on my mana bar, willing it to readiness.

A cool breeze swept through the cluster, rustling the leaves and wafting smoke around me. I inhaled and the acrid tar taste felt thick on my throat. The heat rolled over me in heavy waves. The crackle of embers tearing into the dry dead wood grew louder as I zoned in on the element.

I struck the fire and yelled, “Firebolt!”

My hand stung brilliantly and my shout was lost in a coughing fit as the wind turned the ash back into my face. The sooty mess of embers I disturbed splashed harmlessly off the trunk and I fell back flinching as my palm seared pink.

My health plummeted as I rolled back and forth clutching my hand to my chest with my eyes shut tight against the pain.

“Wow,” said Serilla. “That didn’t work at all.”

I opened my eyes and she was crouching over me. I blinked through the smoke and blurry tears.

“Are you hurt?” she asked.

“I’m fine.” I sat up and the world spun as I was hit with a wave of dizziness. Grey smoke swarmed me as another gust of wind stirred up the fire. Why the fuck isn’t this working?

Serilla reached down to pick me up and I waved a hand at her face. “Don’t.”

“Ouch,” she said, lurching back. “You got that shit in my eye.”

Stat Increase: Magic +1.

You landed an elemental attack.

New Skill unlocked: Smokescreen.

Smokescreen (Magic).

Wave your hand to create a wall of obscuring smoke.

“Aha!” I jumped to me feet, staggering but triumphant. “It worked. Check this out.”

I set Smokescreen as my active skill in my only skill slot, which meant Basic Identify was locked for 24 hours. I felt a tingle as a spiral symbol appeared on the inside knuckle of my little finger.

I waved my hand and my mana dropped as a gust of smoke billowed from my palm and formed a screen in front of me. After a few seconds, the smoke entirely dissipated.

“Not bad, BBK,” said Serilla. “Now, we should probably get that hand of yours looked at.”

----------