As the village chief was nattering away at little Pepe, Murphy, along with Byron, began untying the villagers. After liberating them, Murphy unleashed a mass revival spell; moments later, villagers were rubbing their heads, groaning about headaches.
"Headaches are the hangover from the bandits' sleeping potion. Should clear up by tomorrow," Murphy reassured them with a smile.
"Are you the help Pepe fetched?" asked a young villager, still wobbly.
Murphy thought he was just passing by, but on the surface he still smiled and replied, "Yes, my, um, adventurous uncle and I came across injured Pepe. After rescuing her, we heeded her call for aid.”
"So, what happened to those bandits?" the chief asked as he ambled over.
Murphy seized the chance to brag, hoping to craft an image of a valiant, upbeat young wizard. "My uncle and I teamed up and took them down!"
The chief, seemingly oblivious to Murphy’s tale of triumph, grabbed his hand and rambled on, "Young man, those bandits hailed from the North - a ruthless bunch who took everything. All our winter stores and funds... thanks to Pepe's escape and call for help, they knocked us out and chased her instead..."
Truth be told, Murphy was trying to wiggle his hand free. The chief’s grip was surprisngly firm for an old fellow. "Rest assured, all the bandits have been..." Murphy tried to interject, but the chief kept babbling as if his life depended on finishing the story, and Murphy realized he'd stumbled into a side quest!
"Although they didn't take our food, they grabbed all our savings: twenty-five gold coins, forty-four silver, and seventy-two copper, all gone. They headed towards the forest south of here. Brave young man, you're our only hope now. Please, don't turn down an old man's request. Return our life's savings, and our village will bestow upon you a reward befitting a valorous hero."
After delivering his speech, the chief went into standby mode. Murphy finally pulled his hand free, asking, "Sir, are you alright?"
"Brave young man, why are you still here? Remember, south forest, the golden ring, twenty-five gold, forty-four silver, seventy-two copper." The chief went back into hibernation.
Murphy and his party exchanged baffled glances. An obligatory quest, it seemed.
Murphy reached into his backpack—or more accurately, his inventory—to grab some low-level health potions, which he handed to Pepe. "We're off to take care of those bandits and will be back shortly. You look after the injured villagers."
Murphy and Byron retraced their steps to the southern woods and settled by a secluded tree.
Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.
Piecing together the events, Murphy realized the human kingdom lay northeast of demon territory, meaning the hero's leveling path would naturally lead southwards. The hero would have come across this village, taken on the chief's plea, entered the forest, vanquished the marauders, rescued Pepe, and returned the villagers’ savings. A flawless quest arc.
But Murphy, traveling in reverse from south to north, had first encountered Pepe, disposed of the bandits, and then accepted a quest with, well, nothing left to do—classic bug scenario. He facepalmed at the absurdity.
"Brue, would you step forth for a moment?" Murphy beckoned.
Byron's human facade changed color and shifted, revealing the skull beneath as a slime coalesced into an extra head and mimicked a human voice, "Your Majesty, what are your orders?"
"You heard the old man, right? Cough up the goods: twenty-five gold, forty-four silver, seventy-two copper, and let's not forget Lightbulb’s golden ring."
Following Murphy's command, coins clinked merrily as they poured from the slime's mouth, reminiscent of a token exchange machine from Murphy's old haunts.
After counting the coins and pocketing the golden ring, Murphy stood up, "Let's go turn in this quest."
On the walk back, Murphy mumbled self-assuredly, "I sure hope the hero won’t be peeved I outright ninja'd their quest. Wouldn't want to get on their bad side—Heroes nowadays... all muscle, no empathy, unlike me."
Humming a tune, Murphy strutted into the village and, with all the solemnity of a stage actor, handed the chief the satchel, "Sir, the bandits have met their maker at the hands of my uncle and me. Your hard-earned savings and the leader’s identifying ring are all accounted for."
The chief counted the money—one meticulous copper at a time—then examined the gold ring against the sunlight, nodding with deep satisfaction. "Young man, you've exceeded our expectations and spared us a winter of hunger and cold. On behalf of all the villagers, I can’t thank you enough. We also have a little something extra for you. Pepe, fetch the box from under my bed."
Pepe scurried to the chief's hut, and Murphy's excitement bubbled within him, another coup over the would-be hero. Soon the girl returned, dragging a long, narrow box.
Presenting it to Murphy, the chief said, "This is our finest blade. Accept it as thanks for this task. May it bolster your strength."
Wow, the village’s premium sword!
Though not desperate for gear, Murphy, a collector from video games past, relished the addition to his inventory—especially such a rare item only obtainable once per game. Even with cut-rate stats, it'd be a prized piece for any serious collector.
Maintaining his gracious demeanor, Murphy accepted the sword to inspect:
[Weapon: Finest Sword of Little River v3.012
Quality: Superior (Green)
Stats: Attack+15 Agility+5 Critical Chance+5%
---
Sharpness: Additional +5 attack power
Authentic Flair: Users hailing from Little River gain an extra +5 attack power when wielding this sword (Unique Passive)
---
Crafted by the village smithy with boundless dedication, the finest sword Little River had to offer.]
"What’s with the 'Unique Passive'? Can only one be effective at a time?" Murphy blurted out his thoughts.
"Yes, courageous young man, one can only possess a single Finest Sword of Little River," the chief replied with a gleeful smile.
"Only one? So, there’s more than one 'Finest Sword of Little River'?"
"Of course! Every Finest Sword of Little River is hand-forged by Pillar, our village blacksmith." The chief puffed up with pride and gestured for Pillar to step forward.
A stout blacksmith with muscles earned from a lifetime at the anvil proudly flexed and boasted, "Every sword I make is the finest in Little River!"