Chapter 27
Shepherds
Asher fiddled with the Stages, exploring them one by one.
The ones he’d beaten already hadn’t changed--the requirements remained the same, save for the last one. Rather than slaying 10,000 monsters and a boss, the requirement was halved to 5,000 monsters and a boss. It angered him, if ever for a moment, but it was in the past and was best left there.
In the column of those he hadn’t yet conquered, all but two lacked any detail of sorts--their descriptions vague, goals entirely hidden, it was as though the ‘players’ were to play a roulette and perhaps land a good one, should they be lucky.
The last two, however, were rather detailed--but it was for a reason. They were headache-inducing, more so than those preceding them, as they seemed to entirely break the 'genre' of the stages. The 9th stage was called ‘The Hunt’ and, as its name implied, he was to hunt down a rogue criminal. There was a time limit, and he’d be set to Level 9 right off the bat, selecting all the upgrades, without a chance to Level-up again. The terrain, as it were, was set to a fetid jungle, and just that phrase alone caused Asher to move on.
The 10th Stage, however, wasn’t all that much better--in some ways, it was even less inspiring. The Stage was dubbed ‘Castle Hold’ and, just like the 9th one, it stayed true to its name. He’d spawn inside a castle, one manned by 250 recruits, 20 experienced archers, and 2 Knights. He’d have some twenty minutes to prepare for a siege consisting of a force 2,000 strong, where he’d have to hold on for at least 6 hours until the reinforcements arrived.
Asher simply moved on when he saw Difficulty: 66/100. It was not meant to be cleared by him.
As for the Daily and Weekly columns, both jutted out with 100/100 difficulty which was enough for Asher to ignore them.
He had a theory that the difficulty rating wasn’t a constant that never changed but rather a variable that went up or down based on his current status, a compilation of stats, perhaps gear, and even mindset. As it stood, he was just not meant to fight those stages just yet.
Pulling out of the Adventure Center, he headed to the Upgrade Shop to spend the remaining 1,500 Souls. Though he was tempted to rush to the Tavern and get a nice, warm meal, he’d at least give it a go--to surrender right off the bat... though tempting, Asher chose otherwise. Even if he should fail, he wanted to at least try.
He first spent 200 Souls upgrading his Health to Level 6, increasing it to 40 baseline. He then spent 600 Souls to upgrade his Movement Speed by two extra Levels, increasing it to 1,5 baseline. Left with 700 Souls, he was tempted for a moment to increase his Luck to 2 but fought against the intrusive thoughts, spending 650 Souls to upgrade Damage to Level 10. Now, with 10 Base Damage, he would likely be one-shotting everything in the stages he'd already beaten.
He sighed as the colors of the plaza came into view from darkness. Just like that, he was broke. He only had 58 Souls left, barely enough for the jugs of bad wine, though he did have 27 Divine Gems. However, he stood resolute in his decision to hoard them, expecting that there would be a place to spend them in order to increase his power.
The plaza was just as alive today as it was yesterday--there were folk scattered everywhere, droning about as though with purpose, and with none paying any attention to him. Shrugging, he closed his eyes and found himself back in the cabin. Grabbing a jug of water, he decided to take a look at his Status Window to confirm the changes.
Name: Asher Rune
Age: 0 (Died at 23y, 8m, 22d; Atlantic Ocean)
Race: Human (Unevolved)
Cabin Name: Scallywag’s Enduring Torture Room
Titles: 0
Cabin Upgrades: 0
Blessings: 0
...
Health: 40
Health Regeneration: 0,2
Damage: 10
Movement Speed: 1,5
Attack Speed: 1
Strength: 0,5
Intelligence: 1
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Agility: 0
Armor: 0
Critical Chance: 0.1%
Critical Damage: 150%
Cooldown Reduction: 0
Luck: 1
Gathering Range: 5 yards
...
Passive Abilities: 0
Completed Runs: 3
Unique Enemies Slain: 5
Bosses Slain: 1
Secrets Unlocked: 0
He regretted, by a smidgen, not upgrading Health Regeneration a bit, but it was difficult to squeeze in a ‘tertiary’ improvement while he was still desperate for the primary ones. Just as he was about to dismiss the window, he paused--something in it stuck against his subconscious, and it took him a few moments to find it: it was Strength. He distinctly recalled that two out of three ‘RPG stats’ as he called them were 0, with the only exception being Intelligence which was one. And yet, it clearly stated that his Strength was now 0,5.
“... ‘cause I worked out?” he arched his brows in confusion. It... it shouldn’t be, he mused. After all, it wasn’t as though he’d been at it for weeks--it was just a few days, at best. “Nah. Prolly something else.” He dismissed it.
It wasn't as though he was going to quit working out--he'd never expected to gain any stats from it, to begin with, and had mostly done it as a way to clear his head space and drift off for at least a little while.
Just as he finished the jug of water, he felt it--the push in his bladder. So, I was right... he mused silently as he quickly went to the toilet.
Sighing, he felt temporary sympathy for all those who’ve advanced into this stage through ‘Tutorial’ without being able to afford the toilet. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the horrors. And so, he didn’t.
He went to bed, lying down with his arms behind his head, staring emptily at the ceiling. This would be his life now, that much was for certain. He’d long forgone the notion that this was just a dream--it was simply not worth it, ever, living in denial. Life was too short, as on Earth so here, to delude the eyes and shy the mind away from reality. All that was broken could be repaired, after all; but what hides and cowers may forever stay rooted in the shadows.
In his depths, beyond the shallow facade of a soldier and shallower yet notion of brevity, he knew well enough what kind of a person he was. He was no hero, no savior, no herald--all his life, he drifted on the edges, waiting for an opportune moment to take action. Whether it was about something as innocent as a high school crush or something as inhuman as war, he bode his time. Sometimes too well.
Bandit--that was what he should become, he knew. Grind out, upgrade, be clever, smart, slowly make his way upward. It was the right choice, the proper way to 'attack' this world. But it wasn't as though that was a particularly difficult thing to ascertain--virtually everyone with the ambition to attempt anything beyond just surviving here would have come to the same conclusion. So, what was it that was pushing the Shepherds onward? Especially considering they've been at it for decades, it sounded like.
A sense of honor? Pride? Courage? No--those romances vanish in the face of destruction. Asher had seen it happen too many times in his life; before death, the lasting terror, few things endure. Mother’s and father’s loves, perhaps--some deluded sense of patriotism, for a little while. Most others, if not all, crumble and fade into dust.
So, it wasn’t those. It was something else.
Something that made the pursuit worth it, something that made the safety of living as a 'Bandit' a burden more so than a benefit.
He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose--headache had already arrived, like a bolt of lightning spearing through him.
He was never a ponderous fella in so much as he was just a cowardly observer. And yet, ponder he must. After all, this wasn’t a simple choice that one made on a whim--something told him that, once he made his choice, he’d either live it out... or die trying.
A flutter of wings droned on for nearly a minute before Asher acknowledged it--the only reason being that she made it louder and louder.
Qyne was hovering in front of him, arms crossed over her chest, that perpetual smirk plastered on her face. Her eyes spoke of wisdom of his own, as though they knew what mountains weighed on him.
“I’ll be damned,” she said. “Never figured a bitchy fuck like you would have the balls to even contemplate becoming a journeyman. Shit, you just earned, like, a grain of sand in the desert respect from me.”
“... I’m honored,” Asher replied with a scoff. “Why are you here?”
“Don’t you want to know why?”
“Huh? Why what?”
“Why do they persist in what everyone else calls a moronic quest?”
“...” Asher’s ears perked as his gaze betrayed the interest burning inside. “What’s it gonna cost me?”
“Aww, that’s adorable. As though you’d have anything I want,” she said. “It isn’t as though this information is top secret or anything. Chances are that most of them would tell you, if you asked.”
“... why?”
“Because they are desperate,” Qyne said. “With each year, their numbers dwindle. And it’s getting harder and harder to go on.”
“It won’t be like what that Eagle said, right?” Asher asked. “Because of that promised wish.”
“... it oft began that way,” Qyne smirked. “Though it evolves, changes. The truth is, little plebeian, there is no one right cause, one reason that is canopy of all.”
“That’s just cheating.”
“Ha ha ha, so what? But I wasn’t finished, so don’t interrupt,” she chided coldly. “That little chick that flew into your stage, to help you. Right now, everyone here would dub her stupid. But all the journeyman--all of them--start their Stages at the exact same time specifically hoping they’ll be offered to help or be helped. There is a tiny little gimmick, call it the whims of entertainment--the more Stages you clear, the higher the chance of a, hmm, mutation? Happening,” Asher’s eyes widened, mirroring Qyne’s grin. “You’ve experienced it. The hell.”
“...”
“And that was just for a tutorial," she continued. "Imagine it on a scale bereft of reason. Anomalies are blades against which the necks of journeymen are dragged. So, the more of them there are, the higher the chance that the one person who gets shafted might yet be saved. Why, o' ye wretched shit, do you think you managed to survive the Anomaly?"
“...” Asher bit his lip for a moment, holding the answer. But it slipped, as though it wanted to, all on its own. “Luck.”
"Bingo. Pure, unbridled, raw luck. Not skill. Not that stupid expression of human spirit and courage and whatever else garbage your species feeds itself as it lumbers about the cosmos, blind and abhorrent. Just sheer, dumb luck. You lucked into a perfect set of abilities to counter the boss, and you had that dumb bitch to buy you time to get there and help you wade through the rest of hell. If just one thing went differently, you'd have died."
“...”
“So, think very, very deeply,” she curled up against his ear and whispered deviously yet sweetly, her voice a melody. “Do you have the balls... to take a leap of faith knowing that, one day in the future, a hell hundred times worse than that will bid you welcome?”