Chapter 25
New Reality
There were no other newcomers, as far as Asher could note anyway. Which begot the question--was he the only one of them to survive? It wouldn’t surprise him, not truly. The more he thought about it, the more he recognized that the only reason he survived was a perfect concoction of stupid luck, Myra deciding to join and help, and a twinge of his own determination and skill. And even with all those things, he was inches away from dying.
Asher ignored his thoughts and went toward the tavern--the old, rundown building had taken on a completely new shape. Just yesterday, it was built entirely out of wood and wattle, its door frame ripped and hanging, while the floorboards gave way to the dirt beneath. The lanky, wooden boards that held it together were remedied into smooth stone, cold and rough to touch, with a signboard now hanging above the wholly repaired doors.
The main hall, previously cast in deep shade and lit up only by a couple of oil lanterns, was now spacious, illuminated by glowing gemstones embedded into its frame. Its tables and benches remained somewhat the same--rough-hewn, wooden, arranged in a communal fashion, though with the added caveat that some of them, largely those tucked in the rear, also had cushions.
On the opposite end, behind one of the counters, he saw a hand-carved hearth framing a bundle of open flames. The hearth was shaped like a pair of arms curling upward and embracing each other, palms-open down at the flame.
The bar had gotten an upgrade, too, as it was now much taller, made of some kind of stone, and ran along the entirety of one wall. Behind it, too, was a figure--that of a woman who appeared to be in her thirties. She ran left, right, and center, serving drinks and food to what looked to be over twenty patrons. The beverages were stored in either barrels or clay jugs and served in tankards and goblets, mostly, though with a variation: from ordinary-looking ones to gem-adorned.
Above the bar, tucked at the rear and hanging close to the ceiling, a painted, wooden board displayed prices for both drinks and food. To his shock, it wasn’t just wine--rather, there was a great variety of drinks, though food was more scarce and mind-hurting in its pricing. A single bowl of potato stew cost 100,000 Souls, a number that Asher couldn’t wrap his head around.
The tavern’s walls were adorned with various animal skins, paintings, and assorted trinkets. Nothing stood out in particular and it all seemed to just be ‘background noise’ of sorts, just so that the folk weren’t staring at gray, stone walls.
After being pushed by one of the people leaving the tavern, and cussed out softly, Asher walked up to the bar and jumped on one of the stools. He fancied himself somewhat well-off with over 2,000 Souls, but looking at those prices... he may as well have been a beggar.
"What can I get you, handsome?" a couple of minutes later, the woman finally reached him. She wore a light-gray shawl made of linen over her head, covering a bundle of auburn hair. Her face was fair and ordinary--neither beautiful nor unfortunate--though with a smile that birthed dimples in her cheeks which added gravity to her charm. She wore a simple dress consisting of a tunic-like bodice and a shirt, both made of linen as well, though hued in dirt-brown. A rather stark contrast to the luxury outside, her appearance was simply... dated. But Asher stayed his lips.
"Uh, yeah. I'll have a goblet of ale," Asher replied after looking at the prices. The goblet of ale was the whole 500 Souls, Souls he could have used for upgrades, but he felt he deserved an award. Something more regal to drink besides cheap, bitter wine and dull water.
“Goblet of ale comin’ right up,” the woman said, skillfully spinning about and fetching a goblet from a nearby shelf, bending over and picking up one of the clay jugs, pouring ale out into the goblet. The whole process took just ten seconds; in the blink of an eye, it felt, she was back at the counter, serving him ale with a bright smile. “Cheers!” she said before being called off. But I didn’t pay...
“It’s automatically deducted,” Asher had already noticed the man who was seated on the stool near his, but as the man seemed to have been screaming ‘don’t talk to me’ with every inch of his body, Asher didn’t bother him. Quickly checking his wealth, it was true--the number of Souls he had was automatically deducted by 500.
“Wow. Thanks.” Asher said, taking a sip of ale. As soon as the fruity taste tangled itself with his mouth’s innards, Asher wanted to weep. He hadn’t tasted anything remotely sweet in what felt like an eternity even though it had only just been a few days. He realized, almost immediately, why people were willing to throw 500 Souls at a small goblet of ale.
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Though he'd gotten a few looks and even heard himself being referred to as a 'newbie', nobody approached him. It was as though he was a passing curiosity more so than anything else. However, he didn't mind it. Rather, it was better this way. It allowed him to bottle the white noise of the tavern and stop himself from thinking. He didn't want to think, not just yet anyway. He just wanted to forget. To let himself be adrift for just a little while.
He finished the goblet rather quickly--in less than five minutes. Sip after sip, it was more so unconscious than anything else, as though his body yearned it more than his mind did.
Putting the goblet down, he didn’t linger. Nodding toward the man who sat next to him, he dismounted the stool and headed toward the exit. He needed sleep more than almost anything. He was mentally exhausted. But before that, he wanted to spend the freebies--for an Upgrade, he decided to for Health. That last stage had proven, time and again, how valuable a decent cushion of HP was. This wasn’t a ‘game’, where, optimally, it was better to just increase damage as the best defense was offense.
This was his life.
In the game, it was always possible to restart. He had no such luxury. As such, even if it was not 'optimal', he decided to invest in HP early on, to give himself a cushion so that, even if he is hit, there is always a chance of recovery.
More than the Upgrade Shop, however, he was interested in the piece of furniture that he could get for free. He hadn’t perused the listings in great detail as he couldn’t afford anything and it simply hurt to watch, though he did recall a few items of note--such as the barrel bath. He wouldn’t buy it, though, as he imagined he’d have to provide water for that, and he barely had enough drinking water to go around, let alone for bathing.
Both the Upgrade and Furniture stores only got slight upgrades to their exterior as they were already extraordinary-looking. Their interiors, though, were unchanged; he'd still emerged in the darkness where a window would pop up and he'd interact with it.
Quickly buying the HP upgrade, he didn’t spend any more time there even if he had 1,500 more Souls to spend. He first wanted to see other buildings and whether there was something there to spend the Souls on before making that choice.
There were just shy of one hundred entries in the Furniture Store. A lot of them were kind of just ‘reskins’, in a way; for instance, of 100 pieces of furniture, 24 were just variations of chairs. Stools, dining chairs, chairs made of wood, chairs with a cushion, chairs with armrests, and so on and so forth. Further 14 were variations of dining tables, 8 were variations of a nightstand, and 5 were variations of a bed. Those alone took up half the listings, and even the other half wasn’t exactly brimming with exciting choices.
Everything seemed to fall under the banner of ‘furniture’ and that included things that Asher never considered as such: forks, spoons, pots for plants, cups, goblets, tankards, bowls... all in all, Asher could see that there were a lot of things to grind out, things meant purely for simple convenience. And there were likely thousands more that he hadn’t even unlocked yet.
In the end, Asher was torn between three choices: a bed with a mattress made out of goose hair, a cushioned sofa chair, or... a very primitive toilet. In fact, the last option worried him plenty.
It hadn't escaped his notice that he hadn't really needed to do his 'business' ever since coming here, but if there was a toilet on sale, it stood to reason that, soon enough, he'd have to. Looking at his room, there was nowhere to do that business. In fact, Asher couldn’t even comprehend the reality of trying to navigate that sort of life.
In the toilet’s description, it noted that the installation was ‘automatic’, and that the ‘waste’ wouldn’t ‘stick around’. Though it was the simple sort, the one you’d find in abandoned outhouses with flies buzzing about relentlessly, Asher chose it. The fear won over--even if it was just a ‘bait’ purchase to get him to waste his single free buy, he felt it was better that he waste a single buy over needing to live in what would effectively become a pigsty.
Sighing after the fact, he left the store without looking back. He knew he’d be tempted to waste his Souls on nonsense, so he didn’t even give himself a chance to yearn.
Exhausted, he closed his eyes for a moment and wondered how he could return to the cabin. Usually, it was automatic after a period of time, but he watched people pop in and out of the plaza frequently enough that there likely was a way to do it manually. He figured he’d ask someone, after all.
Opening his eyes, he nearly stumbled at the sudden change of scenery as he found himself in the cabin. Smiling bitterly, he looked around and felt... well, oddly enough, he felt the same way he did back on Earth when he'd come home from work. Relaxed. Looking around further, he saw one extra door on the opposite end, just behind where he usually worked out. Walking over and opening them, it was as advertised--an empty, barren, 6x6x6 room faintly lit up by something he couldn't see.
He hesitated for a moment before clicking on the 'toilet' icon--it abruptly appeared, a ghostly visage of one, as it did in building games. He 'aimed' it downward until it fit in one of the corners of the room. It became corporeal with a thought--a hole in the ground.
"Yep," he mumbled as he walked in and looked into it. "That's a pit latrine, alright." However, unlike with the average pit latrine, it didn't seem to just be a hole dug in the ground. While there didn't appear to be any 'flush' mechanization, Asher was hopeful that the 'void' would swallow up whatever he tossed out. Even if the smell would remain--
“--wait, fuck, I don’t have anywhere to vent the fuckin’ stench, do I?!” he finally realized. “Aren’t I fucked?!”