CROWN: Level increase imminent.
Stripe waits for the level up to be applied.
Nothing happens.
STRIPE: Well?
More time passes.
Still no notification.
STRIPE: I'm waiting.
CROWN: Insufficient information for query.
STRIPE: Where's the level up?
CROWN: Insufficient experience for level gain. Level up imminent with minimal experience gain.
Stripe leaned back against the wall and slid down slowly until he was sitting on the cold stone floor.
He did not feel guilty.
He did feel a little scammed by the Crown's wording.
And slightly relieved that he would not wake up without a head.
Then there was a sudden shake.
CROWN: Error. System error. Rebooting.
Stripe found himself back in the dark void.
This time the woman was not present.
Suddenly the light returned.
Morning.
He felt something sharp dig into his arm and he shot up in defense.
The Thin Man's pointy teeth were buried into his arm.
STRIPE: Chill the fuck out, I'm still alive.
THIN MAN: Damn it. Next time.
The orc chuckled from the corner.
The cell door swung open.
A man in elegant white robes decorated with gold and jewels stood outside the cell.
His face was obscured by the hood and the poor lighting of the corridor.
GUARD: This is the prisoner.
MAN IN WHITE: Yes. He belongs to us. We will assume custody of him.
THIN MAN: Lucky bastard.
CROWN: He wouldn't have waited again.
Her voice sounded different this time.
More human.
Almost familiar.
STRIPE: I know. I was going to beat his ass to show dominance after this.
Stripe paused.
STRIPE: Wait... you sound different again.
CROWN: Incorrect. Optimal manner of speaking has been consistent through all conversational engagements.
Stripe scratched his head.
He felt like he was going crazy.
GUARD: Let's move, prisoner. Or would you rather stay until your execution date?
Stripe scrambled up and exited the cell.
The prison was dark and damp.
Stone walls covered in mold and grime surrounded them as they navigated toward the surface.
Stripe stayed quiet.
He did not want anyone realizing they might have the wrong guy.
Eventually a large door creaked open.
Sunlight spilled in.
The guard shoved Stripe forward and tossed a bag at him.
His belongings.
Everything except his coins.
STRIPE: Wait. Where the fuck's my money?
GUARD: No money was processed on intake.
The guard grinned.
GUARD: File an appeal. I'm sure it will be answered in a few years.
He slammed the door shut behind them.
STRIPE: Broke again.
Stripe sighed.
STRIPE: The cycle continues.
MAN IN WHITE: It was unwise to claim affiliation with our church.
STRIPE: It's technically not a lie.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
CROWN: ...Correct.
The man in white removed his hood and turned around.
Stripe's mouth opened in shock.
The long ears.
The flowing white hair.
The elf from the woods.
STRIPE: Wha—
She cut him off.
ELF: If I had brought members of the church with me to verify your claim, you would either hang...
She paused.
ELF: Or you would be forced into the church at the lowest level forever serving as a slave.
Stripe blinked.
STRIPE: That doesn't seem very religious.
STRIPE: What religion has slaves?
ELF: All of them.
Stripe paused.
STRIPE: Oh.
STRIPE: Well... why did you help me then?
ELF: I felt bad leaving you behind.
She crossed her arms.
ELF: Even though you are putrid, you looked lost.
ELF: I am duty bound to help the lost.
She looked away.
ELF: Instead I left you in an area known for bandits.
ELF: When I returned there were bodies everywhere.
ELF: I thought you died.
She sighed slightly.
ELF: I'm glad you didn't.
ELF: Now I don't have to seek forgiveness from the goddess for failing my duties.
Stripe frowned.
STRIPE: I'm not putrid.
STRIPE: I just have my own style.
CROWN: FALSE. Host social statistical data shows humanoid aversion to presence.
Stripe muttered under his breath.
STRIPE: Ouch.
The elf turned and began walking away.
ELF: Don't mess up your freedom.
STRIPE: Wait.
STRIPE: What's your name?
STRIPE: It feels weird not knowing.
She glanced back.
ELF: Sarah.
The crowd swallowed her whole before Stripe could give his name in return.
He was now broke.
Smelly.
And alone in a new city with no prospects for coin.
Familiar territory.
The town square was busy that morning.
Merchants shouted beneath stretched canvas awnings.
Carts rolled across uneven stone.
Children darted through the crowd.
The air smelled like bread, sweat, and metal.
It was loud and alive in the way cities become when coin is moving and nothing catastrophic is happening.
Then the movement shifted.
A man entered from the northern street wearing armor that did not belong in a marketplace.
Mythril.
The plates reflected sunlight in a cold liquid sheen.
Each segment locked into the next with engineered precision.
Etched sigils revealed themselves only when the light struck the armor at the right angle.
Reinforcement layered over reinforcement.
The chest piece alone contained enough refined ore to finance a national war.
The clasp holding his cape could have purchased half the square.
The blade on his back was enormous.
Perfectly balanced.
It did not glow theatrically.
It simply existed with the quiet certainty of something that had ended many lives.
The air around him felt heavier.
As if violence had been disciplined into stillness.
CROWN: Estimated level: 99.
Stripe stopped walking.
STRIPE: Ninety-nine?
CROWN: Estimate based on equipment quality, muscle structural efficiency, aura density, and environmental reaction.
STRIPE: So you don't know.
CROWN: Estimate based on data is extremely accurate.
STRIPE: You said it like you were sure with the wolf and bandits.
CROWN: Tonal interpretation error. Estimate remains consistent across readings.
The warrior crossed the square without acknowledging anyone.
People instinctively moved aside.
STRIPE: Is there higher than ninety-nine?
CROWN: No verified instance recorded beyond estimated Level 99.
STRIPE: Why?
CROWN: Level 100 categorized as divine threshold.
Stripe watched the warrior disappear toward the guild district.
STRIPE: No one passes ninety-nine?
CROWN: No verified instance recorded.
STRIPE: Not even him?
CROWN: Correct.
Stripe swallowed.
STRIPE: What about the elf?
CROWN: Estimated minimum Level 50. Maximum Level 70.
STRIPE: And guards?
CROWN: Estimated average Level 20.
STRIPE: And seasoned adventurers?
CROWN: Estimated range between Level 30 and Level 80.
STRIPE: And me?
CROWN: Verified Level 5.
Stripe exhaled slowly.
STRIPE: How do my stats align with people that are the same level as me?
CROWN: Sub par.
Stripe frowned.
STRIPE: I feel like you're moving the goalpost.
CROWN: Incorrect.
STRIPE: You mentioned my growth model.
CROWN: Early progression slower than baseline. Mid-tier aligns with baseline. Late-tier compounds.
STRIPE: So I stay weak longer.
CROWN: Yes.
STRIPE: But later?
CROWN: If survival persists, host will exceed standard projections.
Stripe nodded.
STRIPE: Fine.
STRIPE: I'll take the long road.
Over the next several weeks Stripe returned to what he knew.
Begging.
Learning which merchants tossed coins when business was good.
Which spat when it wasn't.
Sleeping beneath awnings and near bakery vents for warmth.
Counting copper coins like oxygen.
Hobb became constant.
They slummed together for weeks.
Shared scraps.
Shared corners during rain.
Shared long silences where the city forgot them entirely.
Sometimes Stripe muttered under his breath without realizing it.
CROWN: Nutritional deficit noted. Recommended calorie threshold not being met.
STRIPE: Yeah.
STRIPE: I noticed.
Hobb looked sideways at him.
HOBB: You arguing with ghosts again?
STRIPE: Something like that.
Hobb nodded slowly.
HOBB: Good.
HOBB: Means you ain't alone.
Stripe blinked.
One cold evening Hobb produced a bottle.
HOBB: If you're hungry, too bad.
He shook the bottle.
HOBB: But I got something to make you forget.
Stripe grabbed it and took a long pull.
CROWN: Alcohol consumption detected. Intoxication negated.
Stripe blinked.
Then his stomach convulsed violently.
He doubled over.
The alcohol rejected him instantly.
He vomited hard onto the stone.
His body heaved until nothing remained.
Hobb stared.
HOBB: Something wrong with my drink or is it personal?
Stripe wiped his mouth.
STRIPE: It's personal.
CROWN: System modification functioning as designed.
Stripe stared at the bottle.
STRIPE: Broke and unable to even get drunk.
He sighed.
STRIPE: This is worse than before.
HOBB tapped his temple.
“Some of us got wives.
Some got ghosts.
Some got rules talking back.
Same difference.”
Stripe did not argue.
One cold evening, Hobb produced a bottle.
Another night, rain smeared the square into gray streaks.
HOBB:
“Homeless ain’t about no roof.”
Stripe stared at the fountain.
HOBB:
“It is about nobody expecting you home.”
That landed.
Stripe felt it settle somewhere heavy in his chest.
“I had someone,” he said quietly.
The memory came clean.
Maui.
White sand.
A wooden arch wrapped in flowers.
The ocean stretching endless and blue behind them.
She laughed during the vows because he forgot a line and replaced it with something stupid and sincere.
His hands had broken men and never shaken.
They shook that day.
He had believed that moment was permanent.
Hobb studied him.
“You lose her.”
Stripe nodded.
“I lost myself first.”
Hobb tapped the stone.
“Maribel says you cannot stay in the hole you fall in.”
“You dig sideways.”
“Make a tunnel.”
Stripe let that sit.
Hobb leaned closer, lucid and steady.
“You fighting something.”
“Yeah.”
“Good.”
“Means you ain’t surrendered.”
Stripe respected that.
A greasy man approached.
His movements were almost like slithering.
CROWN: Trust index negative.
The man stopped in front of Stripe and smiled.
???: Hello.
He leaned slightly closer.
???: Would you like a job?
???: You seem fit and eager to survive.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ STATUS ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Name: Stripe Level: 5
Class: Unassigned
Title: Toxic Fisherman
HP: 134/134 Stamina: 118/118 Mana: 0/0
ATTRIBUTES
SKILLS
Passive
ARTIFACT
Crown of Reflection
SYSTEM EFFECTS
INVENTORY
CURRENCY
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