"Good question," Michael said. He had a dark look in his eyes. "I was hoping the survival rate would be closer to a hundred percent. Or fifty. Not zero."

Emm nodded. "I had a bad feeling."

"So, did you manage to see your [Status] at the end?" asked Michael. "I heard you try a bunch of times."

"No. It doesn't work for me," said Emm.

"That... sounds like a problem."

Emm snoffed. "You can say that again."

Miss Simmons led them away from the monster's body, to one of the patchwork buildings. A shed. Nearby were wooden stakes and hay bales with arrows sticking out of them.

The shed itself was made of logs and rough boards with skins thrown on the low roof, and a missing wall. It was filled with a variety of boxes, tables, buckets, and weapons racks.

Nasty-looking, medieval weapons. More were hanging from the walls all around.

Emm's gaze was drawn to the variety of swords, spears, shields, axes, and bows. Barrels with arrows sticking out of them. Even a few oversized hammers and flails with spikes.

A man stood inside with his back against the far wall. He was older and had an unkempt mane of brown hair combined with a long beard. The hair stuck out in all directions: It reminded Emm of pictures of neanderthals in history museums. He was even dressed in furs, matching the look.

Emm and Michael stood at the very back of the group. Miss Simmons instructed them all to line up and began addressing them one by one. After every few sentences, the bearded man would hand out a weapon and a small cloth bag. The first two received swords, but the second also received a wooden buckler.

"What are your stats like? The numbers." Emm asked Michael.

"That's a little personal — Just kidding. [Status]. My lowest is... Will at seven, and my highest is agility at fifteen."

"So, they average out at ten?"

That was bad news.

Miss Simmons had a brief conversation with each new person and offered them a choice between two or three weapons. They would decide, and her helper would hand the weapon over. The line quickly thinned and people were already waving their weapons nearby, testing the weight and discussing their choices. A guy shot an arrow at a hay bale, then another.

He almost missed the second one, despite standing less than ten feet away from his "target".

They were putting in the effort but looked like they had absolutely no idea what they were doing. One girl's sword flew out of her hand as she tried to swing it. She sheepishly picked it up and went back to the end of the line, looking to replace it with something else.

"A bit more than ten. Why?" Michael asked.

"Just curious. I wonder how much of a difference leveling is going to make."

Michael hummed for a moment.

"A lot, I'm afraid. I'm an acrobat in a circus, and I've trained all my life. And if we get a single stat point per level, anyone could beat my agility in just five or ten levels," he said.

And ten levels are just one month of monster hunting, according to Boris.

"And if we get five per level, it would only take one or two levels," Emm said the words out loud.

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Michael nodded, grim.

They approached the beginning of the line and stayed quiet for a while, looking at what the people in front of them chose. A mace with spikes, then a bow, followed by a spear. The next one, however, took longer. It was the girl who'd asked about magic earlier. The man opened a smaller chest near the back and took out something different from everything before it.

It was a scepter made of metal with a bright blue gem inset at the tip. The girl walked away smiling and sat down on the grass.

There were also magical weapons available?

He wanted one. The possibility of standing back and throwing lightning bolts sounded amazing to him. Amazingly safe, that is.

The next person was a girl who took a spear, and then it was their turn. Emm let Michael go first.

"A dagger or a short sword. Start with the [Rogue] class," Miss Simmons told him.

"You can see my [Stats]?"

"Obviously," she said, "your [Perks], too. Good choices. You could also take a bow, but that would be a waste."

"I humbly request a scepter like her," Michael said, pointing, "Please."

Miss Simmons paused, then shook her head.

"Too bad. I'll take the dagger, then."

The man handed him a sharp-looking blade. To Emm, it looked too long to be called a "dagger," but it made sense. Once they were fighting monsters as big as the metal gorilla, it was necessary. If the blade were any shorter, even a clean stab to the head might not reach the brain.

If the monsters had brains, that is. And under the assumption that brains were important. Maybe he was worrying for no reason: in games it was normal to slice at an enemy's toes until its health reached zero. They would die despite most of their body being intact. It was something he had to test.

Michael pocketed the pouch and twirled his new weapon between his fingers before tossing it a short distance into the air, spinning. He caught it effortlessly and winked at Emm before walking away.

"Was worth a shot. Good luck," Michael said.

Miss Simmons gave them a stern look. She wasn't pleased.

"I must admit, this is a first. I don't know what to do with you. It seems you've taken a [Perk] that prevents others from using [Identify] on you. I'm afraid you're going to have to dictate your status screen to me manually."

Emm blinked. He was so screwed.

"That's the problem, I can't bring up my status either," he replied. "I don't know what's going on."

"You can't see your status. Are you serious?"

He nodded. "I'm hoping I can unlock it when I level up."

"Perhaps," she said absently. "Can you remember your [Perks]?"

That was awkward.

"Afraid not. I was just clicking around randomly."

"Then use something generic. A sword or a spear. It won't matter."

‘What the hell do you mean it won’t matter?’ Emm held back from asking.

He considered the two options, and came to a quick decision. A spear was longer, which meant there would be more distance between him and whatever was trying to kill him.

He had a better idea. “Can I have a bow instead?”

“No,” she said. “The arrows are expensive.”

Excuse me?

“What about armor? I don’t want to die.” Again, he left out.

“It would only hinder you. You can buy armor later. Just choose already.”

Hinder us? Yeah right. It's a matter of life and death, and you're being stingy. First by withholding information, and now with equipment.

The woman was completely unhinged.

No wonder the death rate is so high, if all Guides share your attitude.

"Then I'll take the spear," Emm said, "the longest one you have," he remembered to add.

"Good choice. Gregor—thank you, Gregor."

Emm took the spear from 'Gregor', as well as a brown pouch that clinked in his hands. He spoke up again.

"You forgot something. Which [Class] should I choose?"

Miss Simmons was already waving the next person over. She was completely caught off guard by Emm's question.

"Oh. That. [Warrior] is a good one," she replied and waved him off. She hadn't even looked at him.

Emm turned away, struggling not to roll his eyes. The spear was surprisingly heavy in his hands. It was thicker than he'd expected and longer than he was tall. The metal at the tip of the spear didn't make it any lighter either, given that the blade was as long as his forearm.

He carefully placed it on the ground and opened the satchel they'd all received. It was tied with a simple knot of thin string.

Healing potions? Please, be healing potions.

His toughness stat was likely to be painfully low, meaning he would get injured easily. Being able to heal up was vital.

He took a look inside.

It wasn't healing, but it was the second-best thing. A handful of thick metal coins.

He took one out to examine it. It was surprisingly light in his fingers, but rough and bumpy. One side was embossed with a skull and the other was empty. Emm was no expert on metals, but he thought the coin looked like it was made of ordinary iron. Or maybe iron mixed with mud. It looked cheap.

He put it back and stored the money away in his pockets; his wallet was back in his car. The pouch fit snugly against his leg.

There was money in this world.

Now that was more in his league than running around stabbing monsters. Emm smiled. If he could just find a way to reliably make a good income, maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't have to worry about monsters? At least for the short term.

A plan was beginning to form in his mind.