The morning came, and the inn was empty like a shell. Most people occupied the rooms upstairs, sleeping the rest of the morning and into the afternoon to cure that debuff that no powerfully geared priest could cleanse, no matter the level: the dreaded hangover.

It appears over the adventurer and locks itself away from the system or anything that could interact with it in a cold, lifeless gray text bar.

{Hangover}

They say it's a curse, an illness from the adventurers who came before us, the ones who started it all. When the first of their kind came over from that rift in the sky, that was one of the plagues they brought with them. Ever since, the land has been plagued by a sickness that can't be remedied, only alleviated, and eventually defeated with time and aid.

Luckily, my late-night debauchery didn't seem to catch up to me. My buffs held strong, and there was no hangover in sight. That wasn't true for the rest of my men, and Rodger, the main one I wished to talk to, was still dead asleep in my bed, so instead, I took the morning to make the rounds of the coastal village.

Most villages, especially those that were once part of the main storyline, follow a familiar structure. The inns tended to rest on the corner of town, as did Salie's Shipwreck. Upon entering adventures, they would unwind, buy a room, settle in, search for some information if their charisma stat was high enough, or unlock hidden dialogue options if they had met the prerequisites for those options. After they settled in, they would head out down the main road, as I did now.

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The first thing you were met with were the piers, the bustling layered wooden docks, and the workers who moved like ants up and down them. Tugging anchors, knotted ropes, and lugging cargo were the lifeline of what the city was now. You would think this was all there was to this coastal town from this shot alone. A quaint little village that supplied for itself through the merchandise and tariffs that crossed their ports.

If you ended your analysis there, you would be content and hold a happy perspective on our realm. Digging a little deeper reveals the ugly truth.

At the end of the pier, you are met with a crossroads. Turn right, and you are met by the stuff you find at your boot's bottom. At the scum that lives in the darkness of man, at the shadow that follows and tails you but never catches up. At the ghettos of the fallen, of those who failed one too many quests, of the people of the realm who couldn't catch a break or were given wares that were never meant to be bought. The sick and unlucky, those that the system doomed from the start.

Turn left, and you make your way into the market district. Like any other village worth their salt, they housed everything within a centralized square unit. A blacksmith was always near a forge, allocated within steps of an enchanter who could take that newly forged blade and elevate it to levels that would barely qualify you for entry-level dungeons. An armorer would sell you a gear set that would give you the defenses needed to keep you in the fight, allowing you to swing that sparkling sword you just forged and then enchanted not even a few minutes prior. But before you enter that raid or dungeon, you must visit the apothecary just down the road to stock up on every exp pot, resistant tonic, or, for the even bigger spenders, an automation elixir. This automation elixir allows system A.I to take over and show you exactly what your build was capable of. These are just the surface level establishments. The more niche black markets, class-specific vendors and trainers, guild-specific shops, and job levelers also dwelled here.

You just had to know where to find them.

It was efficiency incarnate. From the first adventurer's era, they say some architects from the other side came up with the system. It was beyond efficient and a roaring success; it lined everyone's pockets, which is what anyone has ever cared about. We called it the market system, and they had an old word for it, one we don't use anymore. Forgotten with time, with the ending of eras, and every new expansion's release. Even now, I can't think of it…capital… capital something…

Watching the crossroads, I've been to hundreds of villages, so what mysteries could a right turn at the crossroads bring me? Without a second thought, I turned left and began walking onto the unpaved roads of the broken part of town.