The city was tinted with the amber glow

  of dawn. Although the streets were calm, the early-risers rushing off to

  work hinted at how busy the city would be once the day truly began.

  Sebastian hoped he wasn’t too late for the meeting with

  whoever had agreed to smuggle him across the border into the Calindor

  Federation. He made sure to get up even earlier in the night than he

  should have had to in order to make it there by dawn, and he still lost

  his way a few times on the way over.

  Turning a corner, he reached the address given by the

  bartender the night before. It was an old run-down chapel with a

  moderate steeple above the entrance. Although Sebastian still hadn’t

  explored much more than a fraction of Luxendorf, this was the first

  building he’d seen with a fenced-in yard. It had not been tended to very

  well. The grass was tall, weeds thrived, and parts of the fence had

  collapsed. Even the back half, a small cemetery, had mostly been

  reclaimed by nature as the grave stones were covered by various types of

  greenery. In spite of its state, though, the red, brick chapel still

  retained its dignity.

  A chapel, huh? I remember them mentioning gods back at the castle but I haven’t seen or heard much about it since.

  For a chapel to be this run down… It

  doesn’t exactly feel like the gods are a priority here, which feels

  strange. Churches, chapels, and temples are usually a center-piece in a

  community, something to be treated with care. If there truly are

  real-life gods here—which the existence of the [System] seems to

  suggest—then why don’t they care for them? I suppose it’s not a priority

  to figure out right now, but it’s definitely odd.

  Stepping over the broken fence gate—with a rusted shut latch—Sebastian cautiously walked up to the door and knocked.

  There was a brief pause, just long enough that his

  anxiety had time to set in and make him worry that he’d missed his

  window. Then the door opened. A man, thirty-something and a tad shorter

  than Sebastian, looked him in the eyes with a blank stare. “Yeah?” he

  asked.

  The man looked vaguely Asian. Sebastian only noticed

  because because he couldn’t place it with any accuracy beyond that, just

  vaguely Asian. He mentally slapped his forehead as he realized that he

  was in another world. The countries he was familiar with back home

  didn’t exist here. As he thought about it, he also realized that same

  was true for most other people he had met here. They all looked vaguely

  European, but he couldn’t narrow it down beyond that.

  “Reeve sent me. I was told to come here about a… job,”

  Sebastian said with the subtlety of an awkward teenager trying to buy

  beer with a fake ID for the first time.

  The man looked over his shoulder. “Hey, boss! Client’s here.” He walked in, gesturing at Sebastian to follow.

  The inside looked mostly like Sebastian expected, like a

  small church from back home with rows of pews in front of a stage of

  sorts, or at least a raised platform. The group hadn’t paid much respect

  to the original shape of the place, however, as most of the pews had

  been ripped from the floor and thrown in a pile in the corner. In their

  place they had placed some couches and tables, and they had various

  hunting trophies on display against the wall.

  There were five men, including the one who opened the

  door. They all stopped eating their breakfast, putting their utensils

  down as Sebastian approached, and stared pensively at him. One of them, a

  man built like a bear and wearing a fur cape to solidify the illusion,

  stepped up and greeted Sebastian.

  “Mornin’.”

  Sebastian gave him a nod. “Hi,” he said as he scanned the room, more so nervously than vigilantly. Do

  I stick to John Doe? No, at this point there’s no need. I already made

  it into the city, and I’m on my way out of the country. “I’m Sebastian. I was told you could help me cross the border to the Calindor Federation, is this true?”

  Sebastian suddenly felt a shift in the atmosphere. The

  look in everyone’s eyes turned from curious to that of tigers eyeing

  their prey, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. He instantly tensed up

  and on pure instinct activated his [Mind’s Eye]. He relaxed a little

  bit when he realized there wasn’t some ambush lying in wait, but moments

  later he also realized that they didn’t need it.

  Every single one of them exuded power.

  From the looks in their eyes to the way their muscles

  were poised to attack at the drop of a pin and finally from the sheer

  force of essence radiating from them. It was clear that they were all

  high leveled, certainly higher than himself. His shock was interrupted

  by the man’s casual response, in direct contrast to the otherwise tense

  vibe.

  “Sure is.”

  Sebastian forced down a gulp of air. “I was only told to

  meet you here, though. No mention of what the price might be or what the

  process might look like.”

  “The kind of service you’re requesting isn’t cheap. Not

  only does it involve quite a bit of risk, it also takes a substantial

  amount of time. As such, the price is fairly steep.”

  “How steep are we talking here?”

  “Such a service in and of itself would cost about two spirit coins—” he began but a man behind him cut him off.

  “Plus expenses!” the man yelled out.

  “Plus expenses, of course. And let’s not forget, the

  greasing of the odd palm here or there. So in total, it’ll cost about 3

  spirit coins.”

  The tension from the team of smugglers loosened a bit

  from surprise as Sebastian took out 3 spirit coins from his bag and

  threw them over without hesitation.

  The man caught the coins and stared at the money in his

  hand for a moment, his mouth open in shock, before he looked back up at

  Sebastian. “Well damn. I should have asked for more if I knew you were

  loaded,” he said mostly in jest, which elicited a chuckle from the rest

  of the crew. “I’m Bishop, good to meet you, Sebastian.”

  As soon as payment was made they seemed like completely

  different people. The fearsome aura from before was gone, and in its

  place was a welcoming and almost cheerful attitude.

  “So how does this work?” Sebastian asked.

  “Well, I don’t know what you’ve been told, but we’re not

  some criminal organization. We’re hunters. We frequent the Silvervale

  Woodlands to hunt animals and monsters of all kinds. That allows us to

  deal in this business on the side.” The smuggler gestured toward the

  couches on his left. “Come, sit. We’ll talk details.”

  The chapel had certainly seen better

  days, but it was a cheap base for the hunting party who didn’t really

  care about the state of the place. This wasn’t their true home after

  all, they were hunters, their true home was out in the woodlands. Still,

  while they were in the city they needed a place to resupply and rest.

  The two sat to talk while the others continued with their

  breakfast. Sebastian sat with his back against the wall while Bishop

  had his toward the rest of the group.

  “I wasn’t kidding when I said it’s gonna take a

  substantial amount of time. The only realistic way across the border is

  the legal way,” Bishop said, cutting to the chase.

  “There’s a legal way?”

  Bishop chuckled every so slightly. “Well, legal in a

  sense, of course. While it is possible to just take a run at the

  woodlands, that option works better for those who don’t intend to return

  here. Me and the rest of my team have lives here. As much as we value

  money, getting arrested for sneaking someone out isn’t worth some coin.”

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  The same man from earlier yelled out, “We charge extra

  for that!” Prompting some chuckles among the rest of the party who were

  clearly eavesdropping as they ate.

  “So,” Bishop continued, “in order to properly take you

  across, we will need to officially hire you as a porter for our hunting

  party. Even then, it’s best not to just make a run for it. We need to

  make a actual show of how you’re a real member. That means going on

  four, or maybe even five hunts over the next month. Then, and only then

  do we plan a big hunt, a longer hunt of several weeks. When we return

  from this long and dangerous hunt, we will have to sadly report that our

  newest porter passed away in the process.”

  “So basically, the only way across the border is to fake

  my death?” Sebastian asked, not entirely convinced as getting caught up

  acting as a porter for several hunts wasn’t exactly his plan.

  Bishop shrugged. “Like I said, there are other options but none with odds quite so high.”

  With a sigh, Sebastian leaned forward, resting his elbows

  on his knees. “There’s a flaw in your plan, unfortunately. There are

  reasons why I need to cross the border and spending a ‘substantial

  amount of time’ here could be a problem. Not to mention, being hired in

  any official capacity probably means inspections or something, which

  means trouble.”

  Bishop furrowed his brows and took a brief moment to

  think. He hid it, but Sebastian detected a hint of disappointment in the

  smuggler.

  “I see,” Bishop said. “Well, I suppose we could move up

  the time table to some degree. Go to plan B, so to speak. That would

  mean an increased cost, however. More hands to grease, you understand.

  As far as identification is concerned—yes, there are rules and

  regulations for that. But you’re hardly our first client with that

  particular request. We mostly deal with people wanting to avoid the war

  nowadays where that isn’t an issue, but we’ve had plenty of clients with

  strict confidentiality requirements. As a veteran hunter, and elite

  rank 5, I do have some pull around the association and can register you

  under a fake name.”

  Sebastian breathed a sigh of relief. “Alright, sounds good.”

  “If we’re speeding things up, we can’t just hire you as a

  porter, though. We can’t hire a porter and immediately bring him on a

  long hunt. We’ll need to make you a proper member of the party.” Bishop

  turned serious. “To join a hunting party of our rank, you need to be at

  least level 30. If it the draft you’re dodging, that should be the

  case. You wouldn’t happen to be over level 30 by any chance, would you?”

  “Wait, I’m a little confused, I thought everyone who reach level 30 got drafted?”

  “Well, yes and no. There’s an exemption made for hunters

  in Luxendorf. We can choose to avoid conscription, and if someone has

  the right connections they can join a party and do the same when they

  reach level 30. As much as the kingdom wants to muster as many as

  possible to serve, the crown—and the nobles—still need resources, and

  for that they need hunters. So as long as you reach level 30 as a part

  of our team, you’re fine.”

  “Oh, good. And no, I’m level 26, but I should be able to get to level 30 pretty fast.”

  Bishop clicked his tongue and looked Sebastian up and

  down. “Hmm, I guess a little help in leveling could be added, for an

  additional fee of course. Ordinarily, you could have naturally leveled on a

  few hunts. With an accelerated time table, that might be an issue. If

  we want to get you to level 30 quickly and safely, only the highest tier

  experience elixirs would be enough. You can’t afford those,” he said

  matter-of-factly. “That means that the only realistic option to get you

  to level 30 in a couple of weeks is through spirit baths, but those

  don’t come cheap either.”

  Sebastian had a blank look on his face, nodding along as

  if knew what Bishop was talking about. “I’ve never actually used either,

  how do they work?” he asked, trying to not seem too out of place. For

  all he knew these were things that everyone in this world knew about in

  great detail so he tried to seem as casual about it as possible.

  Bishop gave a quick side glance but just

  as quickly looked away and nodded. “Most people haven’t, they’re

  usually for the ultra wealthy who are too lazy or cowardly to hunt. Or

  the reckless criminals who would rather steal elixirs than hunt for

  themselves. Generally speaking, achievements, like you’d get from some

  school or something, or hunting monsters are the the only ways available

  for common folk to level beyond level 10 or so. So long as you have

  access to alchemists, however, you have more options. They can take the

  corpses and the various remains of high leveled monsters and make use of

  the energy left in their body after they died.

  “Usually they distill and condense it into an elixir

  which gives you experience by drinking it. This does, however, also

  means that you’re essentially drinking condensed monster juice, and no

  matter how much they try they can’t remove all the toxins in the

  distillation process. The less toxins there are, the more expensive the

  elixir.

  “So, for a cheaper experience elixir, if you’re lucky

  you’ll spend the week after drinking it feeling like absolute shit, and

  if you’re unlucky you’ll be bedridden until your body can clear the

  toxins, if it ever can that is. I don’t recommend drinking too many.

  “Unless you are truly filthy rich and can afford the best

  elixirs, there’s not enough time to get you up four levels using

  elixirs. Not if we’re on an accelerated schedule.

  “Spirit baths are much better in that regard. By taking

  the most concentrated and energy-rich parts and crafting them into a

  paste of sorts that can be dissolved in a tub of water and then soaking

  yourself for several hours per day in the solution you can absorb as

  much experience as through an elixir.

  “Obviously there are still toxins involved, but you take

  in less through your skin than you do when you directly drink it, so

  you’ll only feel like shit for about a day with a spirit bath. Which

  means that you can take another spirit bath every other day for the next

  two weeks and that should be enough to get you to level 30. The main

  problem is that it’s expensive. Most spoiled brats don’t want to spend

  hours sitting in a tub of monster soup, though, so it’s usually cheaper

  than elixirs.”

  Sebastian wasn’t entirely sure how Bishop had clocked

  that he needed such an in depth explanation, but he was grateful. He

  processed and mentally stored the information as he listened, especially

  that part where Bishop had mentioned that people could gain experience

  through achievements, which was interesting.

  Having processed, he asked, “How expensive are we talking?”

  “Including a small service fee for purchasing and setting

  it up, 4 spirit coins. At least if we want to guarantee reaching level

  30 from 26. If we gamble some with the quality it could probably land at

  2 or 3 spirit coins.”

  Sebastian leaned back in the old leather couch. Old

  cracks on the surface scratched at him as he moved, but they weren’t

  anything more than a nuisance to his tough skin.

  I did get quite a surprising amount

  of spirit coins from selling everything from the goblin treasure room,

  but even then, 4 seems like a lot. If my math and guesstimations are

  even remotely accurate then even with the differences in value in the

  city a single spirit coin should be worth about $10,000, if not more.

  Out in the country, they’d be worth a fortune.

  With my cultivation art, I should be

  able to absorb more essence from the spirit bath that most people,

  money might not be on the top of my list of priorities but there’s no

  need to waste it.

  Having made up his mind, Sebastian looked the massive

  hunter in the eyes. “Let’s go with the cheaper option, for now at least.

  I’m sure I can reach level 30 so long as the spirit bath isn’t a total

  scam.”

  Bishop smiled. “Fair enough! Heads up though, we don’t do

  refunds. If you can’t reach level 30 in the next few weeks then there’s

  nothing we can do.”

  “That’s fine, I don’t mind the challenge.”

  “Good, now that that’s settled let’s move on. For this to

  work, regardless of circumstances, we’re gonna need to test you. We

  need to know what we’re dealing with. I see you’re carrying a sword, so

  I’ll have you spar against Silas,” Bishop explained. “SILAS! Get in

  here!” While they talked, the others had finished their breakfast and

  left. Only the man who opened the door was left in the main room,

  cleaning up the kitchen.

  A man who Sebastian inferred was Silas walked in casually, at his own pace, hands in pockets. “What’s up?”

  “We need to give our new member here a quick test. He wields a sword so who better to test him than you?”

  “Oh, lucky me,” Silas said before looking over at Sebastian. “Kid, this way.”

  Sebastian felt it was strange to be called kid as a grown

  man well into his twenties by a man who looked to be just a few years

  older but didn’t feel like questioning him too much, so he simply

  complied.

  They walked into a side room that they had clearly

  fashioned into a training room. The center was empty with mats on the

  floor and all around the room by the walls were various types of weapons

  and training equipment.

  A few moments later Sebastian stood opposite Silas, sword

  in hand. Silas wasn’t an imposing figure, he looked more like your

  average teacher than a warrior. His clothes were looser, a thin burgundy

  sweater and this world’s equivalent of jeans, rather than some degree

  of armor which some of his colleagues wore. His stance seemed lazy, but

  Sebastian suspected, if his sheer presence was anything to go by, that

  there was nothing lazy about him.

  Sebastian still had a healthy respect for swords.

  He came from a world, after all, where even the slightest

  knick from a sword could lead to severe injuries and possible

  infections that could actually kill you. Even though he now had a body

  which would never suffer from infections and was quite difficult to even

  cut without a great deal of force applied, he still desperately wanted

  to avoid being struck by a sword.

  As he prepared for the test spar, he thought back on

  videos on had seen back home of people fighting with swords, both in

  Olympic fencing and HEMA sportfighting. In both, fighters had to be

  wary of any slight hit, if you attack and your opponent manages to

  flick your wrist in the process, you were in trouble.

  No amount of thinking was going to help him right in this

  moment, though. He shook his head and instead focused on drawing on his

  memories and his experience of fighting the gnoll. It was the closest

  thing to fighting a human with a sword he had done after all. Somehow,

  though, Silas felt more dangerous.

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