The town opened up before Sam like a storybook. Just past the gate was a wooden tower holding a large bell. The bell hummed deep and low, the metal reverbing like a guitar string.
The dirt-paved street spread and split, branching forward into a bazaar. People darted about, each conscious of the Southern Gate, the place Sam entered from. All work seemed to have stopped.
Smells both good and bad floated about, mixing into strange concoctions and cocktails before drawing Sam’s mind away.
Sam followed the red-headed guard who finally introduced himself as Riben. He never offered a last name.
As the pair walked, Sam looked about the town without reserve. He marveled at the wooden buildings and their ceramic-tiled rooftops. From businesses to homesteads, from farms to smithies, each building told a story.
Minutes passed, and sure enough the town came back to life. People began talking, their words like the music of birdsong. Sam listened to merchants barter in feverish tones, he watched as warriors sold off their spoils, and he hummed along to a musician’s song.
The laughter of children echoed on the fringes of the market. Peddlers cried out, displaying their wares. Womenfolk beat rugs, letting dust explode into the street gutters.
Sam's chest filled with an indescribable sensation, with a tingling of joy. His heart felt peace as distant memories flashed in his head. He thought back to his own hometown and the hustle and bustle of life.
Before Sam stretched out an endless display of humanity, and his heart wept with joy.
“You seem pleased with the town, Mr. Sam,” remarked the guard Riben.
“I-it has been…” Sam paused for a moment, taking his time to select the right words and avoid his stutter, “It has been a long time since I’ve seen something so beautiful.”
“Beautiful?” Riben asked, his tone almost mocking. “It’s a dirty mud street in a backwater town. I’m certain someone of your standing has seen the Capital of Lazann, or perhaps the Cliff-homes of Carousel.”
“No,” Sam replied with a soft voice. “This town… Is beautiful.”
Riben shrugged his shoulders, “If you say so, Mr. Sam.”
-
They stopped in front of a two-story building with dark-brown cedar shakes for siding. Unlike most buildings, this one had actual glass in the windows. The wide doorway looked to be heavy and firm. A small signboard hung over the street, reading: “Hunter’s Guild.”
“The Mayor is also the guildmaster in our small charter branch,” said Riben as he pushed open the door and held it for Sam. The hinges groaned like dying men.
The large room resembled a restaurant with tables and chairs scattered about. Men and women dressed in armors and elaborate coats were drinking and making merry. The day was near its end, after all. A strange line popped into Sam’s head from his fragmented memories, ‘It’s five-o'clock somewhere.’
In the back of the room were two receptionists behind their own desks. To the side of the receptionists was a small bulletin-board with numerous wooden planks hanging from it. Each plank had strange characters written on it that Sam had trouble reading from a distance. To the opposite side of the receptionists stood a narrow staircase leading to the second floor.
The walls of the room were decorated with animal pelts, busts, paintings, swords, and an assortment of the wooden planks from the bulletin-board. One particular section of wall had a rowboat’s oar hanging like a trophy.
In the center of the room was a small stage with a woman singing. Next to her was a man plucking the strings of a guitar-like instrument. Sam found his foot tapping along to the upbeat ditty.
“The mayor has his office on the second floor,” said Riben as he lead the way.
Sam felt eyes watching him. He scanned the room and identified one table with a small group of warriors at it keeping careful tabs on him. They seemed on edge. Sam surmised they could sense his strength in some manner, even if he kept his mana from leaking. The people at that table were particularly strong in comparison to the rest of the room, with a few of them being close to matching a Death Knight in strength. Of course Sam’s guesses were pure conjecture based upon the amount of mana each person leaked. Sam thought back to his time in the Jungle and wanted to shake his head. These people would never have survived there.
Sam noted that—when he scanned them—the strongest three shrank back, as if they were struck with a club. The strongest man, in particular, went pale and came close to falling over his chair backwards; it looked like he’d seen a ghost. Sam couldn’t help but grin as he followed Riben up the stairway. He felt bad for scaring them, but part of him wanted to laugh. He considered speaking with them later.
The top of the stairs opened into a short hallway with three doors. Riben walked to the furthest and knocked, “Mayor Terson, are you in?”
“Hm, what?!” Came a rasping aged voice from the other side of the door—which was soon followed by a shattering sound.
Black smoke began coming out from under the doorframe. Riben started to panic at the sight. He grabbed the doorknob and pulled hard, but the door didn’t budge.
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“Step back,” said Riben as he looked to kick down the door.
“Let me,” said Sam as he stepped forward, putting one hand on Riben’s shoulder. Riben’s eyes lost focus for a moment, but then he nodded in affirmation.
Sam stepped up to the door and plunged his hands through it at the hinges. Wood splintered and popped; finger-holes opened in the doorway like gunshots. Without effort, Sam ripped the door off its frame, shattering the metal hinges like glass.
Black smoke poured from the room and began filling the hallway. A lanky old man with white hair and a rounded white beard limped out from the opened doorway, coughing and waving his hands to help himself breathe. The old man wore a yellow jumpsuit—stained black from the smoke—and a pair of crystal goggles. He looked more like a mechanic than a mayor.
“Thanks my boys,” said the old man with a dirt-stained grin, his teeth black like charcoal. “Now, who are you?”
“This man came up the South Road and killed a pack of Turtle Wolves in an instant, ” said Riben. “He claims he’s from the mountain.”
“Hoh,” remarked the old man as he stretched his back a bit.
“Um, sh-shouldn’t we take care of the smoke f-first?” Asked Sam as he pointed towards a pile of shattered bottles and a caustic black liquid spreading across the floor.
“Nah, don’t worry about that stuff. I’ll get Jane to clean it up later,” said the old man with a wave of his hand. “Come, why don’t we continue our talk at a table downstairs. From your story it seems neither of you has eaten yet.”
-
Sam followed Riben and the Mayor down the stairs and to an empty table. Before Sam even had a chance to say anything, the Mayor was ordering food.
Riben explained exactly what happened during his time at the gate, starting from Sam appearing on the horizon to his takedown of the Turtle Wolves.
-
“Ah, I see. So, Mr. Sam, are you a member of the guild or from the Lazann Kingdom?” Asked the Mayor.
“No. I’m from the m-mountain,” replied Sam with a quiet voice.
“Is that so? Then perhaps you may know why the monsters from the mountain suddenly changed about ten years ago?” Asked the Mayor, his voice filled with excitement.
“Yes,” said Sam as he measured his words. “Ten y-years ago, a new monster appeared on the p-peak of the mountain.”
“What kind of monster?” The Mayor asked, almost jumping from his seat.
“Don’t know,” Sam replied.
“Ah,” the Mayor deflated, “that makes sense… Oh, while we’re waiting for our food why don’t we register you?”
“R-register me?” Sam asked.
“Yes. From what Riben said you have the skills of an ‘A’ rank. You’ll have a hard time entering other cities or Kingdoms without some form of identification. A Hunter’s Guild card would help you a lot with that…”
Sam stopped for a moment to think about the offer. It sounded too good to be true.
“What’s the catch?” Sam asked, managing to stop his stutter.
“Well, we’ll use a ‘C’ Crystal to measure your ‘Status’. So if you have anything you really want to keep secret, that could be a ‘catch’,” the Mayor replied, a glint in his eyes. “We’ll also require you to help any nearby branches of the Guild in the event of a major monster attack, but from your intervention with the Turtle Wolves I don’t think that will be a problem.”
The word ‘Status’ evoked several buried memories for Sam. He held an innate understanding of what the ‘Status’ would look like… And he was terrified of his own. He had long surpassed the limits of mortal men. Would these people consider him a monster if they saw his ‘Status’? Was there any way for him to view it without using a ‘C’ Crystal?
“I can see you’re worried,” said the Mayor with a sly look on his face. “How about I let you use a ‘C’ Crystal first. You don’t have to show us the result unless you want to.”
Sam was shocked at the proposal, “W-why would you do that for me?” He asked.
“You did just save a few of our citizen’s lives earlier. Not to mention peeling my door off the hinges probably saved my lungs,” the Mayor replied.
Sam thought for a moment, but then he nodded.
-
Sam followed the Mayor past the receptionist desks into a small backroom. The old man rifled through several drawers and pulled out a clear crystal. Sam could feel the pulse of magic within it.
“Simply put a drop of your blood on it and then charge it with mana,” said the Mayor. “If you don’t want to share it, wipe your blood off and input your mana again to clear the crystal.”
Sam took the crystal in his hand. It felt hard and cold, but there was a warm magic surging through it just under the surface.
Sam bit his thumb and let a drop of blood fall onto the crystal which began to whir and buzz.
Sam drew out a string of mana and let it touch the crystal. He watched in awe as the crystal reacted to the magic and the spell formations exploded forth, processing tons of information in an instant.
Sam’s eyes lost focus as a blue screen popped up in front of him, something he wasn’t unaccustomed to.
Name: Sampson La’Gaun
Race: Lord of Chaos
Age: 3521 Years
Strength: 56,425
Speed: 61,811
Accuracy: 143,538
Stamina: 640,345
Intelligence: 1,450,485
Sam tilted his head to the side. He always thought he was a human. Why was his race ‘Lord of Chaos’? He never read about such a race in his Bestiary…
Sam was right about something, he didn’t want to show this ‘Status’ to anyone. Following the Mayor’s instructions, Sam cleared the display.
“Sorry, but I can’t join your Guild,” said Sam without a single stutter as he handed over the cleared crystal.
“No, that’s fine. I didn’t expect you to. You’re clearly strong enough to be ‘S’ ranked, anyways. Not like our Guild would be much use to you,” replied the Mayor, his face bitter. “Our food should be coming out soon. Why don’t you go join Riben. I’ll be out soon.”
“Alright,” Sam replied and gave the old Mayor a smile.
-
As soon as Sam stepped out of the room, the Mayor poured magic into the crystal in his hands using a strange method and a familiar blue screen opened up in front of him.
“My God…”