Following the Golden Trail, I found myself in a section of the ghettos that appeared drastically more organized and clean than the rest. It took me a second to recognize the place. Hesitating, I opened the map to double-check.
Current Zone: Ghettos of Shark's Bite Reach.
Nope, I'm still in the ghetto...I mumbled to myself as I shut the system back down. A part of me didn't want to interact with the interface; it was like borrowing gear from an enemy; it felt wrong.
Even in the poorest sections, there are a few wealthy people. With their gated fences and men at the doors, with lances and pressed uniforms, I knew they meant business.
Turning a complete 360, I checked around, hoping the golden trail would refresh and send me down another avenue. Instead, it flickered as if calling me an idiot, a coward without the need for words.
Typically, I would stray from areas that reeked of blood, of death on the wind. But the trail urged me forward; it grew and sparkled, taking me by the hand and leading me into what I presumed would be another event gone wrong.
With a sigh and a courageous front, I stepped forward and placed myself before the two men. They were towering fellows with hard faces that looked like they had been shaped out of stone, not the earth. Their aura alone told me they were not your ordinary thugs who got paid to wait outside doors. These men meant business. Whatever was going on behind those doors was worth the cost of two titans.
I felt like drawing weapons because I was itching. Strong opponents always brought that out of me; it had to be a bruised ego on my behalf. But they surprised me. Instead of barking orders requesting my quick dismissal, or else, they would get to show me just how ludicrously overpowered some people of the realm could get, they stepped aside and made room for me to walk.
Odd, I thought.
Then, out loud, I questioned.
Not very strict, are we boys?
To which the solemn man to my right responded.
Those who can enter will do so; those who cannot will walk away. If anyone chooses to bother us, they will be carried away.
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
A cold shiver passed my spine as the monotone threat wasn't aggressive, simply stating the obvious as if reading off a shopping list.
In other words,
Hey, bozo, cause problems, and you will be dealt with.
Inspecting them with the system, I found that my hunch was correct.
Above their heads in blood red, their levels read.
100+
What in the realm was this? An area that was nothing more than a pitstop on an expansion from years ago was now harboring mobs and people over the current level cap of most frontier mobs. Was this a part of the structured story or something more significant?
It's safe to say that the Golden Trail was not the system's doing; some other entity wanted me to experience something off the beaten path. Was it trying to show me that the realm was evolving in ways the system couldn't control?
Feeling completely lost and confused, I approached the shackled door in a haze. It was a large oak door criss-crossed with a sturdy iron lock.
With my right hand, I reached out and tugged.
Above, the system responded.
(Pickpocketing disabled only those with the key may enter)
Key?
Then it clicked. Mayhem's drops, there was a key, wasn't there?
Opening my system, I went into my inventory section, which was sparse compared to how adventurers usually packed the thing. The system gave us a mysterious plane of space in which everything on its list was held. This space felt infinite, but each of us had a specific carry capacity dictated by our strength, stamina, and various effects.
Only a few items appeared on my screen.
Gear:
Traveler's clothing set: no bonuses to combat
Mayhems Mercy Knuckles: +4 to hand-to-hand combat and +4 to strength (epic)
Iron daggers: +1 to slashing (common)
Inventory:
Mysterious Key
I produced the mysterious key out of thin air with a mental click. Doing so was once natural, not strange, not magical. But now that I had spent six years on the shattered island without the system and an invisible storage shed that was always there, the whole system seemed preposterous.
We focus power and strength purely on the physical—strength, power, and destruction. The most powerful tool at our disposal as adventurers is the inventory system. This small, taken-for-granted system is one that we exploit every day without a second, though.
Could we have reached the pinnacles of the realm without it? I genuinely don't think so.
With key in hand, the guards' piercing gaze upon me, I lifted and shoved it into the iron lock.
Click, click, click.
The iron lock moved, unlocked, and fell to the ground in a falling pixel of fragmented light, and the chains disappeared similarly. Each time, without fail, moments like these made my heart race.
(Access granted)
(Attend the current council meeting 0/1)
(Find their purpose)
(Find their true purpose)
A triggered quest glowed in that golden light overhead and sounded a familiar, satisfying ding.
Turning the knob, I entered the building to find some answers. It was probably because it was something to do in the meantime. The system was acting strange again. A quest in which the area's mobs scaled this high meant something. Either the area was growing in power by some unknown means, or the system wanted this area left alone, so higher-level mobs guarded it.