The inn’s common room was warm and bustling with quiet conversations, the air thick with the scent of roasted meat and fresh-baked bread. A crackling fire in the stone hearth provided a soft glow, illuminating the worn wooden tables and chairs scattered around the room. John, Kaia, and Thorin sat at a corner table, their plates nearly empty and tankards half full.

John leaned back in his chair, groaning. “I swear, I’ve killed enough wolves to be considered a serial killer, and I’m still stuck on level two. What kind of grindfest is this?”

Kaia glanced up from her meal, her expression calm but tinged with amusement. “It’s slow for everyone, John. That’s how it’s always been.”

“Yeah, but I’m not ‘everyone,’” John countered, jabbing a finger at his chest. “I’m supposed to be an adventurer, right? The special chosen one or whatever. So why am I leveling up like I’m on dial-up internet?”

Thorin chuckled, tearing a chunk from his bread. “Special or not, leveling is slow for all of us. You fight, you grow stronger, and when the time’s right, you feel it.”

John raised an eyebrow. “Feel it? What is this, a yoga retreat? How do you even know you’ve leveled up?”

Kaia leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “It’s intuitive. We sense when we’ve reached a new level. It’s not just strength—we understand new spells or abilities when they come to us. It’s… natural.”

“Well, that’s great for you,” John muttered. “But I have zero intuition. I’d be wandering around clueless without this thing.” He flicked his hand, summoning his interface. A translucent screen appeared in the air, visible only to him.

John’s Stat Screen

John stared at the glowing text, his brow furrowing. He muttered as he read aloud:

John Bradford – Level 2 AdventurerHP: 92/92MP: 50/50Strength: 14Dexterity: 18Constitution: 13Intelligence: 12Wisdom: 10Charisma: 15

Skills:

Dagger Proficiency: Level 3

Stealth: Level 2

Perception: Level 2

Special Abilities:

Adventurer’s Insight – Passive: Gain increased growth from combat experience.

Screen Access – Active: Summon interface to view detailed stats and progress.

“Adventurer’s Insight,” John murmured, tapping on the text. A smaller window popped up with more information.

Adventurer’s Insight: A unique ability granting adventurers faster growth compared to normal individuals. Growth rate is affected by the difficulty of enemies and tasks completed. Major milestones unlock significant boosts.

He sighed and closed the screen. “So, I do grow faster. Feels like a scam, though.”

Kaia tilted her head. “You’re comparing yourself to what, a storybook hero? This is real life, John. It takes time.”

John waved his screen away and leaned forward. “Alright, fine. So we’re playing the long game here. What did we learn today? Besides that wolves are terrible conversationalists.”

Kaia straightened. “We confirmed the tournament is still years away. Two or three, most likely. It’s probably going to be held in Goldspire, the capital.”

Thorin nodded. “We’ll start small—build your strength and skill. There’s talk of a dungeon nearby. If we can clear it, there’s a good chance you’ll find your first Coin of Ascension.”

John frowned. “Coin of Ascension, I need 4 of those bad boys right”

Kaia said. “Yes they are your ticket to get in”

“Right,” John muttered, leaning back. “So let me get this straight. I’m stuck on level two, I need to grind out experience, clear a dungeon, and collect some magical coins just to get started. Meanwhile, the tournament is years away in a city I’ve never even seen. And if I mess up, I never see my family again. That about sum it up?”

Kaia’s expression softened, and she reached out, resting a hand on his arm. “John, you did great today. You brought that boy home to his family. That matters.”

John looked down at the table and then back at Kaia. For a moment, he felt the weight on his shoulders ease. “Yeah, well,” he said, forcing a small grin. Don't tell anyone, or you'll ruin my tough guy appearance.”

Thorin raised his tankard. “To surviving the day.”

Kaia smiled and lifted hers. “And to what’s ahead.”

John hesitated, then raised his own. “May the Force be strong... and the brew stronger."

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

The three clinked their tankards together, the firelight dancing across their faces as the weight of the day gave way to a quiet sense of camaraderie.

***

John leaned back against the creaky bedframe, staring at the low, wooden ceiling of his rented room. The faint murmur of the inn’s common room buzzed through the floorboards, but up here, it was quiet enough to let his thoughts roam.

He took a deep breath, the weight of the day settling in his chest, but not in a bad way. For the first time since arriving in this bizarre world, he felt like he’d done something meaningful. Saving that kid from the wolves? That was solid. He smirked, imagining one of his own kids in that situation.

"If it had been one of mine..." John muttered to himself. "Hell, I’d have gone full Liam Neeson in Taken. No wolves, dungeon, or goddamn forest would’ve stopped me."

His smirk faded as he thought of his family. He wondered if they were missing him yet, or if time even worked the same way back home. Would his wife assume he’d just up and vanished? Did they think he was dead?

Shaking off the weight of those thoughts, he sat up and summoned his status screen. The translucent display flickered to life before his eyes, casting a faint glow around the room.

John scrolled through the interface, muttering as he went. “Two levels. Two. After all that. I’ve killed goblins, wolves, and I don’t even know how many other things. Practically a horde. And I’m still stuck here.”

He opened the detailed view of his stats, his finger hovering over the description for Adventurer. A small tooltip popped up, explaining that Adventurers grow faster than regular people, gaining power through battles and challenges.

“Grow faster, my ass,” John grumbled. “If this is fast, I’d hate to see what slow looks like.”

He flopped back onto the bed, rubbing his temples. “There’s always a loophole. Always. Every game has one. Maybe it’s exploiting weaknesses, maybe it’s grinding a specific mob, or maybe—” He sat up abruptly, the gears in his head turning. “Maybe there’s something I’m not seeing yet. A way to break the system wide open.”

John thought back to older RPGs, the ones where you could stack buffs, abuse respawn mechanics, or farm ridiculous amounts of XP from some obscure method the developers hadn’t accounted for. This world felt too much like a game for there not to be something similar.

“You just gotta find the cracks, Bradford,” he muttered.

Still, the lack of solid information gnawed at him. The tournament was still a mystery—two or three years out, maybe? Somewhere in Goldspire? That wasn’t much to go on. And what about the dungeon everyone kept whispering about? Dungeons usually meant treasure, and treasure usually meant power. But he needed to be stronger before even thinking about tackling one.

The thought brought him back to the day’s events. He’d taken a hit protecting Kaia, landed some solid blows, and even managed to pull the kid out of that cave. He smiled faintly.

“Alright, I’ll admit it. That felt good,” he said aloud. “If I’d stayed back, that boy might not have made it home. I did good.”

The weight of the day’s work pulled at his eyelids, but he stayed awake just a little longer, staring at the faint flicker of the status screen. He scrolled to the very bottom, scanning the finer details of his Adventurer class, hoping for inspiration.

“Come on,” he whispered. “Show me the cheat code.”

For now, the screen remained stubbornly unhelpful, but John couldn’t shake the feeling that somewhere in this world was the exploit he needed. He just had to find it.

***

The common room of the inn buzzed with quiet morning activity. Villagers sat at rough-hewn tables, breaking their fast before heading out to the day’s work. A fire crackled in the hearth, chasing away the chill of the early hours.

John stumbled in, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His Hawaiian shirt was wrinkled, his hair sticking up in odd angles. He slumped into a chair at the table where Thorin and Kaia were already seated, looking far too awake for this hour.

Kaia slid a steaming clay mug toward him. “Here. This will help.”

John blinked at the dark, almost black liquid, giving it a tentative sniff. The aroma was earthy, slightly nutty, with a bitter undertone.

“What is it?” he asked, squinting at the mysterious brew.

“Bitterroot Brew,” Kaia explained. “The roots are dried, ground, and boiled. It helps wake you up.”

John raised an eyebrow. “So… fantasy coffee?”

Kaia tilted her head. “What’s coffee?”

“Never mind,” John muttered. He took a cautious sip, wincing at the sharp, bitter flavor. “Ugh, tastes like someone boiled dirt.”

Thorin chuckled, nursing his own mug. “Better than being groggy when you’re swinging a blade.”

John set the cup down, shoving it away. “I’ll take your word for it. What’s the plan? More wolf caves? Goblins? Or are we finding someone to tell me how to get out of level two purgatory?”

Thorin leaned back in his chair, the wooden frame groaning under his weight. “I heard something last night. There’s a man in town who might know about the tournament—where it’s held when it starts. He’s a merchant, but he travels to Goldspire regularly.”

John perked up. “Finally, some solid info. Where do we find him?”

Thorin scratched his beard. “He’s staying in the eastern part of town. Should be packing up to leave soon. We’ll want to catch him before he heads out.”

Kaia nodded, her expression thoughtful. “It’s a good lead. If we can confirm the timing and location, we’ll know how much time we have to prepare.”

John leaned forward, his fingers drumming on the table. “Alright, let’s do it. But before we go, let me just say—if this guy starts talking in riddles, I’m walking out. I’ve had my fill of cryptic NPCs.”

Thorin grinned. “Relax. I think he’s more interested in coin than theatrics.”

John sighed, standing up and stretching. “Good. Let’s go chat with the guy and see what he knows. But seriously, someone remind me to bring a mug of real coffee next time I get dragged into another dimension.”

Kaia frowned. “You’re really stuck on this coffee thing, aren’t you?”

John smirked. “You’d understand if you’d tried it.”

Thorin clapped him on the back. “Drink your brew today's going to be a long day my whiny little friend.”

Glaring John tipped the black brew back finishing it with a single gulp never breaking eye contact with Thorin.

Slamming down the mug with a shudder John said "let's go you sadists".

John followed the pair out of the inn, muttering under his breath about bitter roots and lousy mornings. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope. If this merchant really knew something about the tournament, maybe—just maybe—he’d finally get a clearer picture of what lay ahead.

***

The marketplace in Bjornfell bustled with activity, vendors calling out their wares while villagers haggled over prices. Thorin led John and Kaia toward the square's eastern edge, where a line of wagons and merchants gathered.

“Garik’s the name,” Thorin said over his shoulder. “He deals in rare goods—and rare information. Be sharp. He’ll charge you for every word.”

John sighed. “Great. A conman with a side hustle in trivia.”

They found Garik near a weathered wagon, stacking crates of goods. He was a wiry man with a sharp nose and a gaze that swept over the trio like he was appraising them.

“Well, well,” Garik said, setting down a crate. “Thorin Stonearsson and friends. Word travels fast. What brings you to my humble operation?”

Kaia stepped forward, her tone calm and measured. “We’re looking for solid information about the tournament. Word is, you’re the man to talk to.”

Garik’s smile widened, his eyes gleaming with interest. “The tournament, eh? You’re not the first to ask, and I doubt you’ll be the last. That kind of information doesn’t come cheap.”

John crossed his arms. “We’re not looking for a lecture, just facts. You tell us what we need to know, and we’ll make it worth your while.”

Garik chuckled, leaning against the wagon. “Fair enough. Here’s what I know. The next tournament is set for three years from now, in the spring. This time it’ll take place in Goldspire, in the arena. The ancient arena. Work on restoring it have already begun. The king himself will oversee the opening ceremonies.”

Thorin nodded, his expression serious. “And the requirements for entering? The Coins of Ascension?”

“Still the same,” Garik confirmed. “Each participant needs four coins to qualify. They’re rare—found only in dungeons, or as prizes for extraordinary deeds. Goldspire’s officials verify them before the games begin. No coins, no entry.”

John sighed, rubbing his temples. “At least we’ve got a timeline. Three years isn’t much, but it’s better than nothing.”

Garik smirked. “You’ll need every moment of it. The competition isn’t just about strength; strategy and alliances play a big part. Goldspire’s already seeing visitors from across the kingdom, preparing for what’s to come.”

Kaia frowned. “Do you know of any dungeons nearby? Somewhere we could start looking for these coins?”

Garik hesitated, glancing around before lowering his voice. “There’s one not far from here. Locals avoid it like the plague. It’s old, dangerous, and filled with traps. But…if you’re after a Coin of Ascension, it’s your best bet.”

John snorted. “Let me guess—monsters, puzzles, probably a boss fight at the end? Sounds like a death trap.”

Garik shrugged. “It’s called a dungeon for a reason.” He held out his hand. “That’ll be five gold for the info.”

Kaia handed over the coins without hesitation.

Garik pocketed the silver, his expression turning serious. “One more thing. The dungeon isn’t a place you can just stroll into. You’ll need to be prepared—mentally and physically. The ones who don’t respect it don’t come back.”

Thorin nodded. “We’ll handle it. Thanks for the tip.”

As they turned to leave, Garik called after them. “If you survive, come find me. I might have more to share—for the right price.”

John muttered under his breath as they walked away. “Why does everything in this world sound like it’s designed to kill me?”

Thorin clapped him on the back, grinning. “Cheer up. You’re still alive, aren’t you?”

“Barely,” John grumbled. “And now we’ve got three years to do the impossible. What could go wrong?”

John was joking but the thought of not getting home for years was making him feel like ice was in his veins. He needed to get stronger. He had to win.