"Wait up!" she yelled and ran at him. The woman was older, around her forties. Her head was covered with a myriad of colorful sashes, a mix of bright orange, blue, and green. She had even more fabric as long scarves, too. They trailed behind her, swirling in the air. In contrast, her pants and tunic were a normal dour brown.

Emm, puzzled, walked toward her. She was smiling wide.

"You're the last one I haven't met yet!" she said. She wasn't at all out of breath despite practically sprinting straight at him. Her eyes shone a bright brown, almost approaching gold.

"Nice to meet you? I'm Emmanuel."

"Emmanuel, what a lovely name! Rasha, shopkeeper, at your service!" she said, with a funny accent. Vaguely French, or Italian? Emm wasn't very familiar with foreign languages.

She smiled again, showing off her alabaster teeth, and shook Emm's arm profusely. Her scarves jumped up and down.

"I wished to invite you to check out my wares. You can't stay in these rags for long, after all."

Emm was well aware of the state of his clothes, but he had no other choice. He'd have to make do with the torn and purple-stained clothes, for now. The weather was pleasant enough he didn't have to worry about freezing or getting sick; clothes wouldn't serve a real purpose except for comfort or aesthetics. He was more interested in armor, but even that could wait if he was banned from fighting the monsters.

But… Rasha was a shopkeeper. Emm considered the implications. It didn't quite make sense to him. Who were her customers? The other camp workers, or the so-called heroes? They only had ten coins–he refused to call them "skulls"–to their name, and that was money they'd been given. Emm didn't know if ten was a lot, but with how cheap Miss Simmons had acted, it probably wasn't.

They'd spend that in an instant, and then what? How could being out here, presumably far away from their home, be worth it for a shopkeeper like her? She would get all of their starting capital, sure, but even her being here meant they had a way to earn more. A lot more. She looked well dressed.

"I'd love to, but I need to scrounge up some more money first," Emm replied. "I'm broke."

She raised an eyebrow, then burst out in laughter.

"Oh, listen at you go! 'Broke'? 'Money'! I love talking to otherworlders. We'll teach you to speak properly, don't you worry. We call 'em skulls around here, not 'money'."

It looked like there were slight language differences between his world's and this world's versions of English. "Money" was a pretty generic term.

"Skulls?"

She nodded.

"We're in The Republic of Death, pardon the name. You're allowed to laugh. I know your kind always finds it hilarious."

Seriously? The name sounded completely absurd to Emm. Who named their country "The Republic of Death"? His lip rose in a faint smile but he kept himself from snickering. He wondered if there was a "Republic of Life" as well. Or a "Kingdom of Puppies" next to them.

"And how do I earn these 'skulls'?" he asked.

"By selling off monster parts, of course. Each type has a bounty on their heads, to encourage you to level up as quickly as possible, you see. For example, a snake is worth one skull."

Things started making more sense. But…

"Why do you care whether we level or not, though?"

She gave him a confused look.

"What, you don't want to level? I can't speak of it too much, Angela will get cross with me. But you know how you're [Heroes], yes? Your potential for leveling is limitless, compared to us normal folk. There are monsters out there we can't defeat without your help, you see. So it's a win-win situation."

So they were supposed to become protectors, down the line? Nobody had mentioned that beforehand.

"Enough about that," Rasha hurried. She waved her hands around the air, dismissing the topic. "I was serious when I said you need to get some proper clothing. These won't last you a day longer before falling apart."

Seriously?

"Why not?" Emm asked. "I know they're in awful shape, but unless I get chewed on by a monster or something, they'll serve."

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Rasha burst out in laughter once more.

"Oh, you're so clueless it's adorable! They'll break down because of the mana degradation. They're mundane, not a speck of mana inside them. You need proper [Level] 2 clothes for this area, at the very least!"

Oh. The mana didn't just work on people. That should've been obvious to Emm, he thought. If his theory was correct, and the world was treating him like some rock, then of course the mana would hurt any material that wasn't high enough [Level]. A simple conclusion.

"Of course, pardon my mistake," Emm said. "So, how much would those cost?"

She gave him a predatory look.

"A measly ten skulls, for you. I like you!"

Emm's eyes popped out of his skull. Of course, she wanted to take all the money she thought he had on him. Typical shopkeepers.

Fine, screw it. If my clothes break down then I'll walk around naked.

He needed to check out the rewards for other monsters if there were any. Or find another source of income.

"I'll make sure to give you a visit after I have enough, I promise," he said.

"Lovely! I'll get out of your hair, then. My shop's over there." She pointed at a building, with a wooden stall in front of it filled with colorful clothes. It was one of the largest buildings around, a proper wooden hut It had a bright yellow banner stretched above its door, depicting a black skull in the middle.

Emm wondered if he could rent one of those houses as well, eventually. He had a feeling he would get sick of his tiny tent very quickly. The space inside was so cramped he couldn't even stretch his legs without his feet poking out.

"Don't let the others bully you too hard," the shopkeeper said.

What?

She walked away waving at him. Emm waved back, then turned and continued on his way to the bathing area. He was glad she hadn't mentioned his smell, but he was also mostly sure that she must have noticed it. Talking to people like this was awkward and embarrassing.

The showers looked a lot like changing rooms on a beach. Tight but tall cubicles made out of wooden planks, with a cloth cover. There were only three of them, but they all looked empty to Emm.

An old man was dozing off leaning against one of them, sitting down on the ground. He was clutching a steamy bowl in his lap. His long white beard rose and fell to the rhythm of his breaths, and came dangerously close to dipping into the bowl. The [Water Mage].

Emm wondered what was up with the class names– Michael had gotten [Pyromancer], not [Fire Mage]. So why wasn't this geezer a [Hydromancer] or something? There had to be a difference between the two.

The [Water Mage] hadn't noticed Emm's approach. Emm was standing right on top of him, unsure what to do to wake him up.

"Excuse me? Sir?"

The man kept snoring. He hadn't reacted the slightest bit.

Emm leaned closer, then tried again. "Sir, excuse me? I'm here for a shower."

No luck. But as Emm got close, he spied the contents of the wooden bowl. A dark brown liquid, almost black in color.

Emm's nose twitched at the smell.

The divine nectar of the Gods. Coffee. Emm's body reacted faster than his mind could follow. He reached out with his hand, ever so carefully.

Just a sip… Even a good sniff will do…

The grandpa was fast asleep, he would never know. Emm's hand got closer and closer: he was about to touch the bowl–

The geezer snapped out and snatched Emm's hand in his. Their gazes locked. His eyes were an azure blue.

Emm smiled, sheepishly. He tried to pull his hand away, but the old man wouldn't let him free.

"Uhm. I'm here for a shower?" he tried.

"A shower. Shower yourself in my coffee, you mean," the [Water Mage] responded in a gruff voice. He wasn't buying it.

"I'm sorry, I was only trying to wake you up!" Emm cried out. His hand hurt.

The man let go of Emm's hand, then got up and took a sip of his coffee. Emm gulped. His mouth watered at the sight. His heart was racing. Finding out that this world had coffee was the best news he'd gotten all morning. Maybe it wasn't as doomed as it seemed.

"Yes, yes. Wake a man up by stealing the very thing that's supposed to keep him awake. Quite ironic, I'd say."

"I'm sorry!" Emm repeated. He had nothing else to say; he'd been caught red-handed.

The man held out his palm and wiggled his fingers.

"Shower's three skulls," he said. "Or five for a long one."

"The Guide told me the first one's free."

The [Water Mage] scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Fine. The old cow's going to run me into the ground. Get in, you stink. Soap is on the ground." He pointed at a bucket atop of grass. It was filled with grey goop. There were two more of them, with different colors, but Emm used the closest one.

He dipped his hands in it and brought a generous amount of the substance near his face. It was softer than the soap he was used to and didn't really smell like anything. A bit like lard, maybe? Either it had no scent, or Emm's sense of smell was completely desensitized. His hands tingled at the touch.

The old man was smiling at him ominously through the big beard. He continued sipping on his coffee.

Emm opened the curtains and got into the cramped space. He considered taking his clothes off but concluded it was best to give them a good rinse, too.

"Ready?" came the voice from outside.

"Ready!" Emm shouted back.

"[Create Water]."

A glowing blue magical circle appeared above Emm's cabin. A moment later, it started spewing out water. A huge amount of water.

It hit Emm in the face, and he screamed.