Brian acknowledged the contents of the Quest and peeled himself off from the wall. Grime and blood splattered on the floor of the burrow as he moved along with puffs of dust – his joints audibly creaked from the strain of the day. He didn't have the room to stretch in that cramped space.

His clawed hand grasped the soft entrance and jutted out as if from a grave. Then, he slowly pulled himself up. The young man’s ears were the first to seize the frantic gasps and murmurs of people, the clangor of metal, and rustling of animals. Brian held a stone in his right fist, but as soon as he was upon them, his mind settled. If everything went south… he corrected himself – there was no if. He’d be dead.

He surveyed the armed soldiers, they looked capable and intimidating, with a multitude of different weapons raised at the ready, their metal armor shined in the night, betraying their presence. He couldn’t feel animosity from them. Brian’s eyes locked on the horses – animals he had forgotten even the shape of – for just a split second, but he didn’t have the luxury to spend his time being transfixed on them, so he instead focused on the closest person in front of him – Samuel.

The poor kid, probably in his early 20s, looked bleachy and sick in the face as his eyes slowly widened. His neck slumped down, limp. Unconscious. A hand grasped him from behind, preventing him from falling forward on the damp soil. A spear of a man wore a bored expression as he carried the unresponsive young man back, turning his backside on Brian without care. That man wasn’t the person he was speaking with earlier, nor the one he was looking for.

He scoured for a feminine face amidst the quiet crowd as the water stream rolled on unperturbed in the background. He found her in a moment and pointed to her face with his free hand. His long, sharp, hooked finger trailed her outline in the night. He was on high alert, but if they wanted him dead, he would be mincemeat but now. There were simply too many of them – his estimation from earlier was right, approximately two dozen of them stood here – the fact that they weren’t attacking him on sight was slightly promising.

Again, it could all be a ruse, but… while cruel, the System didn’t lie.

[New Quest issued! Pioneer, your noteworthy actions gained the interest of a solitary amicable group. They would like to recruit you. Contents of the quest: Accept their invitation. Rewards: A New Beginning.]

[Active quests raised from {2}, to {3}. You have {2} more slots.]

It was already the second Quest he had received in this world, one which he couldn't accept nor deny. A pawn on a chessboard.

Brian watched as their chief approached his position and put herself between the retreating man and himself. She wore her visage like a weapon, sharp yet friendly. From his hunched posture Brian felt like a man under the gaze of a giant. He couldn’t see any weapon on her, but as he himself was the exception to that rule, he remained vigilant.

Finally, she soundlessly clasped her hands together and bowed her frame before returning to her position – her long black ponytail swinging behind her back, mirroring her movements. Carmen smiled, her canines showing on her pristine white teeth. “Wise choice, Pioneer. We’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other a little better. For now, follow us. We’ll bring you to our base.”

Her gaze trailed down, and she frowned. “First, you need a pair of pants.”

***

It took all his willpower to not plunge his clawed toes into the sides of the galloping horse as they swayed to and fro. Being on horseback was a strange experience, one his tailbone very much disliked. Brian found himself hastily placed on the same horse of another soldier, which had greeted him with a curt nod but hadn't said anything yet. He didn’t mind it, he wasn’t feeling very talkative either.

The feeling of the wind caressing his ears reminded him when it rained over the tunnels. It resembled twisted music, warped by the objects it traveled along with.

He was at the dead center of the formation, encircled by other soldiers, all riding alongside him. Carmen was up ahead, giving orders. With two soldiers per horse, he wondered how long the beasts were going to maintain this pace for.

Brian had been seized by anxiety for the first few minutes of the ride. All he could think about was how to get out of the situation. He entertained thoughts of slipping his hands in the gaps of the armor to stab the poor guard in the neck, to dump the body off, steer the horse, which he didn’t know how to do since he had never been on one before, and successfully escape in a direction he wasn’t even aware of. It was completely nonsensical, but it calmed him regardless, knowing he could do it. Thankfully, after a while, his war ridden mind softened after it blazed asunder, and he appreciated the ride for what it was, praising the sturdiness of the beasts holding them. It was akin to a meditation, he could hear the paintings of the animals as they pushed forward on their strong legs. The clang of their hooves whenever they stepped on a rock… and the clangor that followed… that really calmed him. He had let himself be free. Brian had been given a flimsy cloak to hide his nudity, ripped from an unwilling guard. Truthfully, he could care less about his body being shown in front of others, but it wasn't the best decision to refuse it, especially if they thought he might need it. And he did end up needing it, due to the cold breeze that was still going strong at that hour. He had carefully cocooned his body with the rough fabric, leaving only his limbs in contact with the cold night. They were slowly losing their heat.

The chieftain ahead whistled once and his sense of balance automatically shifted to account for the turn of the horses. Brian clasped even harder on this driver’s metal pauldrons as he was almost thrown off balance. It was the first time he was seeing such proper armor from this up close; it was ornately designed, and each piece seamlessly fit to let the wearer free for fluid or sudden movements. He slightly regretted a bit that his nails were indenting the metal, but he had nowhere else to grasp on. He was sure that if he plunged them on the horse he would find himself flat on his ass on the ground. The screeching as they grated on their chitinous claws was not pleasant to the ears, resembling a knife being dragged across on a squeaky chalkboard. Glancing ahead, it seemed the guard was also trembling from the cold, which was strange as he was much more well dressed than he was. It wasn't that cold.

They had been going at it for at least half an hour, and he pondered if it really was a good decision to move at this time, especially with the mention of other troops approaching their previous destination. Would they be friendly? He glanced behind him, and there, looking down at the ground, rested Samuel. He was on the same horse as the spindly individual from earlier with the thick mustaches, the one he had learned was called Vincent. The kid had woken up moments prior, screaming, all confused – and had been promptly shushed down with a good smack. He was wearing some chainmail over a blue tunic for additional protection and something that resembled a bike helmet, but sturdier.

Aside from their initial starting point near the water stream, their surroundings hadn't changed. Again, no trees in sight even though he could see some white birds fly low every now and then, their eyes gleaming yellow on black searching for some fat insects. This meadow is big. Brian let a sigh of relief leave his mouth as he couldn't imagine what he would've done if he hadn't found the stream. Maybe nothing. Tall grass, similar to the one he had used to hide himself in before sprouted everywhere, and strange animals quickly skittered away and hid as the horses trampled forward in their hypnotic gait, uncaring.

He thought back to the interaction he had with Samuel. That hadn't felt right. He responded to all of his questions as he had expected, and his Skill indicated to him he wasn’t lying, or at least he was convinced of what he was saying. Although… The real puzzle lay in the status screen he had just seen. It was… underwhelming. Pitiful, even. All of his Skills had been either Bronze or Iron. Some slightly more advanced than others… but at such a low starting point, it didn’t really matter. That… couldn't be right. Brian himself had achieved that and more mere months after his arrival in the Pits.

The more he thought about it, the more it didn’t make the slightest sense. Alas, he lacked the proper outline of the puzzle, and he himself held only a couple of pieces. Those were the stats of someone who had been in for a couple of weeks. Yet, Samuel had completed the tutorial before him, one position before him, in an ocean of billions of other people. His eyes narrowed as he filed the information in his mind.

The system had declared them amicable, it creeped him out that it was able to discern anything in a mere moment. They, the Gaians, knew much more about the system than he did – such as the Quest they knew would be issued – there were undoubtedly more things to discover which he was oblivious to.

Another sharp whistle permeated through the night, and this time they slowly inched to the left like a school of fish, all grouped together. It was impressive to see such coordination happening in real time.

Brian inched closer to the backside of the helmet of the guard, his fingers hardening so he wouldn’t be swayed by a sudden turn again. He briefly analyzed the man as he thought about them all; they really looked like humans, slight differences aside. Their nose was a bit upturned and squished to their face, and their eyes slightly more spaced out than normal. He couldn't see too well in the night but their skin hued gray.

Carmen had called themselves Gaians. “Remnants and children of Gaia.” A race of people which lived underground in separated communities. Underground. So, he was going back down, after all. He guessed magic or skills were at bay if they wanted to keep their horses alive in subterranean living quarters. It had to be decently big, at least.

The coachman driving the animal sported the same blue tunic as everyone else, complemented by arm guards and sturdy horse boots secured to one of the pair of the stirrups beneath him. He looked properly armed, with small steel knives attached to grooves on his thighs, urging to be thrown. Brian’s gaze lingered on them but dismissed the thought of pilfering them. Stealing them now would undoubtedly bring unkind consequences he wasn’t prepared for.

The young man creeped even further on. The guard really was trembling. “Ca–”

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“GAH!” The horse sharply swayed, causing him to clutch onto the pauldrons even harder, further damaging them. Just as they seemed about to fall, he felt a sharp tug, and they were back on track. “I’m all right!” He heard the guard call out to his approaching comrades. They observed him a little bit longer, and then turned to flank them as before. He could see their chieftain subtly glance at them before she, too, continued forward.

“You scared the shit outta me!” He heard the guard’s heart rate speed up.

“I… beg for… forgiveness.”

An uncomfortable silence stretched forward, the plumed helmet of the soldier swaying in front of Brian's face. It took all he had in him not to bit it

Brian's head throbbed painfully as his skin gradually regained its natural pallid hue, becoming visible again in the night. The blackness encasing his body slowly receded inside of his head akin to shadows stretching thin before the mere presence of the sun during the day.

He thought the guard didn't want to talk but apparently, he was wrong.“What is it?”

Brian took a moment to gather his thoughts, feeling the weight of uncertainty press upon him. He really lacked in the human department up there. He uttered the first thing that came to mind.

“How are you?”

The young man grimaced to his own question, out of everything else this was probably the stupidest thing he could say. Surprisingly enough, the guard’s stance seemed to relax. Brian could hear a huge sigh leaving him.

“I should be the one apologizing instead. Anxiety and stress does that, sorry about that earlier, we almost became yellow stains on the ground.” He gripped his horse reins tightly. “We're approaching the 10 year mark, and… sorry, I should not be telling you this. We're almost there. Hang on tight for the transfer, considering it’s your first time, well, maybe second, actually, it is going to be really woozy.”

It wasn't what Brian had planned to say to him, but he was glad for the slip up.

“Also, please stop breathing on my neck.”

They trotted over a hill and a small encampment of people came into view. They were busy unpacking tents, unloading cargo and carrying wooden beams around with surprising ease. They glanced upward at them and waved in the night. Their horses moved forward.

As they stormed the makeshift encampment and turned a corner, the darkness parted to the brightness of the day. Brian’s eyes failed to take everything and promptly shut down. He was in overload. His brain heated up.

With his vision to focus, Brian’s ears were the following to be overwhelmed by a cacophony of sounds. Music played, shouts boomed, and cheering ensued. What’s happening?! The acrid taste of raw bile surged up his throat. His hands instinctively clasped to encase his ears to protect them from the overload. Tired and disoriented as he was, the young man forgot he was on a horse, and slipped backward, crashing to the ground at breaknecking speeds.

***

For the second time today, Brian opened his eyes in an unfamiliar environment. He could feel his only human Skill shifting in the recesses of his mind, modifying his emotions – and he was made aware once again. He didn't really know about the inner workings of everything in his arsenal, but he knew how to listen to them after so long. This place was currently the safest place where he could be, accounting for his immediate vicinity. The more time went on, the more apparent the benefits of maxed out Skills became. It had been a few months since it had hit that threshold, and one of the sole reasons as to why he had finally attempted to escape from the Pits at all. Without it, he would be a forgotten, rotting corpse in a bleak moldy cave.

System messages pressed on, but he ignored them.

He lay on a bed, head poised on a pristine white pillow. Brian raised his top half and the blankets slid off of his naked body. The young man noticed his soreness had vanished after a good night's sleep. He placed a clawed foot on the crackling floorboards as he felt their coolness permeate his soles. His satchel rested above a drawer near the king sized bed. The young man rushed to check its contents – nothing was amiss. Brian’s drowsiness finally washed away from him like rain on a rooftop as he exhaled a sigh of relief. Near the satchel was a note, written in perfect cursive handwriting. No traces of ink stained the paper further than necessary. He didn’t know what kind of language it was, but he could read all of its contents with ease. It read; Esteemed Pioneer, whenever you are ready, ring the bell attached to the bed. Brian glanced on his left, there was indeed a thick golden cord attached to a bell on the side of the wall, near the luscious bed. He resumed reading. Once you do that, I will arrive. Underneath this note is a fresh set of clothes. You may find food on the table. May you rest blissfully.

“Rest... is for the... dead.”

He carelessly threw the note on the now messy sheets and looked around. A door. Two windows. No additional exits. The room was noble, that much he could discern at first sight. High above, crystal chandeliers decorated the ceiling, casting colorful reflections on their fractal surfaces. Wooden furniture, intricately carved with something, adorned the room. It was beautiful. Even the curtains were works of art. Almost every wall was a pristine proper ivory white, boasting glistening trophies. He dismissed those. The ceiling was artfully crafted, painted by hand – it looked like a battle was unfolding between some shapes… and other smaller shapes. Everything looked blurry as he squinted.

He thought of the note and peered down on his own hairy white body. Huh. Now that he noticed it he wasn’t wearing the cape anymore. He twisted his thin waist around, but Brian couldn't see any signs of dried blood, mud, and caked vomit plastered on his skin. Had they cleaned him up? He still couldn't overextend his calloused fingers straight, unable to unbend them fully as they resembled talons, but he felt fresh. He had never felt this good in years. Brian popped his joints as he swiveled around, his head and body weren’t hurting anymore from the damnation of the day prior.

He bent down and picked up the black clothes from the drawer, hesitantly unfolding them. He immediately found a problem; the height was perfect, but the pants were too wide, enough so that he could almost slip both of his thighs in a single fabric leg. The same was with the shirt, light and cool to the touch. Useless. There was no point in wearing clothes if they slipped off of you after a single step.

The young man tried to fold them back as best as he could, which wasn’t much, and placed them back on top of the wooden furniture.

What attracted him the most were the two big bright windows. They were letting in copious amounts of light in, and he had to shield his eyes with his cupped hands as he approached the glass. They were so clear he couldn’t see his reflection. Some three or four stories below him, people bustled here and there in an ornately kept garden. Old and young alike carried dirty blankets and household items or held daily amenities as they trotted from one place to the other with familiarity. A group of youngsters sat on the ground, laughing and polishing strange instruments.

“What is this?” His voice sounded old and crackly, unbefitting his malnourished frame. The chieftain, Carmen, had said they were heading underground, but he could see a bright sky dotted with moving clouds high above. The young man suspiciously opened his quest menu, finding it sitting there, completed. His cap returned to 3 more allowed active Quests. It really said he had arrived. Was this… magic unfolding? There was no sun high above, merring the morning sky.

The Brian of a couple years prior would’ve done his best to thrash the room and escape as soon as he could. He was properly feral back then. Now, nevermind that he was in uncertain territory; he was bound to snap his legs if he fell from this height.

Brian moved to the center of the room, there, a table stood on three powerful legs. He picked up a yellow banana with trembling hands as the carpet beneath tickled his feet. It doesn’t smell poisonous. Still, he fought against his hunger and placed it back on the table. Being welcoming was already all he was willing to tolerate. Everything was cured down to the last of details, like a room in a fairy tale. He couldn’t imagine how long it took to carve and sculpt all of the details.

A body length mirror sat near the table, facing his direction. Its wooden frame and sinuous curves couldn’t hide the reflection in the dead center.

Brian’s rapid steps ruffled the carpet as he dashed in front of his own image. “Is... this–” He placed a hand on his cheek and regarded his bare body with a critical look, as if he was observing a dying animal. His frame was of the leanest type, with the most amount of wiry desiccated muscle that you could fit in a human body – it seemed on the verge of snapping at any second. Each individual muscle strand was visible beneath his thin skin as he shifted pose to examine himself. His drained flesh bore cuts and scabs, particularly near his neck and face. Two long, jagged scars, trailed horizontally across his visage, splitting his lips. Those were the areas they used to target him the most.

Again, it wasn’t the first time he had properly glimpsed at himself, but… it struck deep, nonetheless. On lucky days, when it rained and he frantically gulped down dirty water that accumulated on puddles on the ground he often saw his distorted reflection staring back at him. He had gotten used to that. This was different. There was no misery, no screams and no panic in the foreground. Just his raw body being auctioned on display. Two wheel-like earrings hung from his dry earlobes, swinging in the open along with his head. Mirroring them, the mark he abhorred with every once of his being mocked him in the dead center of his forehead. Bait.

With a sardonic smile on his face that showed unnaturally sharp teeth, he bet that if she was still alive, his own mother wouldn’t recognize him at all. That struck him deep, widening the hole in his chest even more. Brian saw more than felt tears stream down his sunken cheeks.

He wept emotionlessly, looking bewildered at his own reflection.

He hadn’t thought so much about them for so long, and maybe…

No. An iron will squished the thought, decimating it before it could fully form.

Brian shook his head and approached the only door handle – which groaned painfully under his grip as he tried to twist it. WIth melancholy, he took his hand off of it, afraid to remain blocked in if it came off. He sighed, and before ringing the bell, his uncertain steps approached what seemed to be a wardrobe. He silently apologized for scratching the wood with his talons as he opened it. Inside was the most amount of clothes he had ever seen kept in a tight space.

He carelessly snatched the first one in front of him and looked at it, pristine red frills and puffy black crocheted roses on relief popped out of the dress, giving it a charming look.

It… wasn’t what he was looking for. He dropped the dress on the floor and looked inside again, but almost every garment was a variation of the first one, some had even ample space for cleavage. He gave up and closed the wardrobe with a frown. Appearances aside, thin at the waist, the dress he had picked up looked just as promising as the others. It took a moment to understand how to fit in, and he decided to just crawl from underneath it like a worm. It felt strange wearing clothes after so long, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The fabric was light and stretchy, which he immediately appreciated. It pressed on his skin like moss, tightly trailing his outline. It dragged from the ground, but it didn’t matter. From this angle, he could see himself in the mirror. It was still a bit too baggy near his sides. After a moment, he recalled what strings were, grasped them, and tightened them all up on autopilot. Huh. He couldn’t recall how he remembered to do the motion. Now properly tight, the dress fit him to a T.

Brian’s calloused feet approached the bed and he practically catapulted on it. It wasn't as bouncy as he had hoped.

Now with some clothes on, he pondered on what to do as the door was locked from the outside. With a trembling hand, he looked at the paper note he had tossed onto sheets. Sighing, he stretched his hand and grasped the cord, tugging it. Whether it was a good decision or not, he was about to find out.

Less than a minute later, he heard a rhythmic knocking. A key slid in. Without waiting for his response, the thick old door creaked open as someone entered the room.