Leveling up unveiled a few new revelations regarding this world's system. First, experience wasn't granted until after combat. Assuming it took 100 XP to reach level two, then killing Baylen should've pushed me to level two in the middle of our fight.
The actual level increase didn't occur until after Garret and Brand were dispatched, suggesting the system didn’t dole out XP until it determined I was out of combat. The karma system remained perplexing. Oddly enough, ripping Baylen’s head off in such a gruesome manner didn't result in any karma loss.
They had all lost karma immediately when they attempted to rob me, but it was only a measly 20 points. Once you had negative karma, could anyone just off you without repercussions? Was there even another method to level up?
If killing was the only way of gaining experience, no wonder I hadn’t seen many higher leveled people. I had to drop seven humans and a level one devil beetle to hit level two.
Besides the incremental stat-gains that I hardly noticed; the most interesting attribute was the sole ability point. Despite acquiring the ability point, no form of UI or menu prompted itself.
"Display ability points," I said as I rummaged through Mortimer and Baylor's bodies. “User-interface activate. Display open. Status. Open status.”
Nothing worked.
“Justice, if you can hear me, please send a tutorial,” I shouted into the night as I secured a spare dagger and a short sword that I slung over my shoulder.
I roped off two horses and allowed the others to scatter. Too tired to bury the bodies, I left them for the wolves. I gathered another three short swords and tied them to the side of the horse. Selling a horse and some small arms would likely fetch a few extra coins. At least enough for me to rent a room and give me time to find some work.
After two tries, I made it on top of Mortimer's brown steed. Which wasn't too bad for having never ridden a horse before. I gave him a gentle kick, and the horse trotted forward. Cool air enveloped my body, my black cloak whipping across my back.
My elation waned, exhaustion kicking in. Zelva's false proclamation about being pregnant ringed in my ears, making Baylen's decapitation feel like a Saturday morning cartoon in comparison. I wasn’t sexist, but that was the first woman I ever struck, let alone killed. I shuddered, recalling how I blacked out in a hysterical fit as I murdered those drunks. If I hadn’t broken out of it, would Brand and Grant have also met their fate?
It wasn't a typical blackout. I saw everything, but it was like I was sitting in the back row of a movie theater, watching the events unfold on a screen in front of me—totally detached, eating popcorn as I watched myself tear a man’s head off.
A similar event transpired two years ago in Oakland, CA at a gas station. Not the head ripping… But two men had pulled knives on me when I refused to give up my wallet. Next thing I knew, I was grappling with one thief on the asphalt with a switchblade stuck in my side. I remember my hands on his face, thumbs pressed into his bloodied eyes. When I turned around, the other assailant was already laying by the gas pump, head cracked open on the curb.
Neither died, but both sustained lifelong injuries. The first man lost 85% of his vision, while his friend, who I didn’t even remember hurting, suffered debilitating brain trauma. Because it was of their own doing, I never felt guilty. What concerned me the most was the out-of-body experience and how I lost all sense of control.
Nothing like that had happened like that again until now. Was I suddenly getting worse? Had Chaos meddled in my mind?
Doubtful, you psycho.
“Shut up,” I whispered to myself.
I extinguished that line of thinking, took a sip of water from my canteen, and busted out a piece of spiced jerky as a distraction. A smoky heat hit my palette, followed by a rich combination of honey and salt that complimented the meat’s gaminess.
I rode through the night, and by the break of dawn, I spotted Ingcaster’s outline in the distant horizon.
"You guys thirsty?" I asked the horses as I steered them toward a stream that ran adjacent to the capital.
The horses drank as I took in a view of the valley, jaw agape at the sight of the sprawling city. Massive stone walls and guard towers wrapped around the valley until they disappeared aside the mountains in the north. Towers with strange architecture stood interspersed throughout the city, some even rivaling the skyscrapers back in Chicago, . The tips of the towers glowed with a pearly light that bled through the early morning fog.
Instilled with a sense of wonder, I guided the horses north, toward the beacons of light.
Besides the consequence of having a sore ass from sitting on a hard saddle for five hours, horse riding was quite fun. The air flowing across my face and the rhythmic gallop was relaxing. Perhaps I would keep a horse for myself and only part with one.
Dozens of guards occupied two adjacent stone towers that sat in front of a drawbridge that led to a massive iron gate.
From afar, I failed to notice that there was, in fact, a moat that outlined the city's walls. I tugged on the horse's reins, slowing them as I approached the bridge. It was a dry moat with spike traps positioned at the bottom of the ten-foot drop. With a mountain at the city's back, I imagined the capital's defenses would make it difficult for other nations to lay siege.
I crossed the drawbridge with my two horses in tow. Dozens of names and karma statuses flooded my vision. I pulled my hood down, limiting the overload of information from my right eye.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
"Two silver," a guard said, holding out a cloth bag.
Paying the fee left me with 88 silver. I passed through the opened iron gate and guided my horses along a cobblestone road.
Even at dawn, the city of Ingcaster pulsed with life. An abundance of traffic congested the street, reducing my previously steady pace to a crawl as horse-drawn carriages and donkeys pulling carts full of goods took the right-of-way, weaving through the tide of pedestrians. Smoke billowed out of the stone chimneys, rising through the mist, creating a cloudy dome over the city.
I felt a vague sense of familiarity, despite being surrounded by otherworldly architecture. Zigzagging ramps led up to a series of stone walkways three stories up, connecting various businesses and towers. Considering the lack of handrails, I stuck to the ground floor.
I always loved cities, and how they provided the anonymity I craved. Becoming a faceless stranger that seamlessly blended into the masses quenched my desire to fit in.
In Waystone Village, I had stood out more than I would’ve liked. Between my time spent at the tavern with Jordain and the coin spent in Eliza's shop, I undoubtedly left an impression. I preferred to be forgotten and planned to never return. A sprawling city whose constant noise drowned out my innermost thoughts suited me much better.
I hitched my horses to a post outside of a busy establishment that I assumed to be a general store. Whether my inability to read the native language was intended or a glaring oversight by Justice, I intended to correct my illiteracy on my own accord.
A bell announced my arrival as I entered through the front door and scanned the merchant at the counter before I closed my right eye again.
Target: Orus
Level: 3
Karma Rating: +790
While I appreciated Karma’s Gaze, the constant overflow of information in crowded spaces was frying my brain. As I waited my turn in line, I checked out the many displays of goods. Compared to the quaint shop in Waystone this was Gadika's equivalent of a Walmart Supercenter.
"What can I help you with today?" Orus asked, his professional expression breaking for a moment when he saw my face.
"I'd like to sell a horse and three short swords that are in poor condition."
"I see, uh..." Orus scratched his chin. "Are you OK?"
"I'm fine, why?"
"Well, sir, you're covered in blood."
"Oh."
***
Orus bought one of my horses and the three spare swords for fifty silver, bringing my total up to 138 silver coins. He was even nice enough to give me a wet rag, free of charge.
I wiped the caked blood from my face as I rode through the city, following Orus's directions to Wheat Brew Tavern and Inn. Not only did Orus recommend their beer, according to him, they offered affordable rooms.
The inn was a two-story building with a stone foundation and thick wooden walls. I spotted a bartender pouring drinks through one of the many windows on the first floor as I guided the horse toward the hitching post outside.
"You need a name," I said, running my hand through my horse's mane before I hitched him to a watering trough outside of the inn.
"How about Artax?" I asked. "Wait, didn't that horse die in that movie? Hmm... I'll think about it."
The enchanting smell of fried potatoes and bacon whet my appetite as I entered the building. Unlike my arrival in Waystone’s tavern, nobody here gave me a second glance.
I waltzed up to the counter and asked, "How much for a room and breakfast?"
The innkeeper, Laird, a level two human with only 125 positive karma rating, said, "Five silver for the night, two for breakfast."
I dropped seven coins in his hand.
“The food will be out soon. Your room is upstairs at the end of the hall on the right,” he said as he dropped a key in my hand.
"Thanks, I'll be back."
I shuffled through the bustling dining room, up a well-maintained staircase, and down a narrow hall until I arrived at my room and unlocked the door.
The size of my new living quarters eclipsed the square footage of the shack Justice had provided me. There was a full-size bed in the corner, a wooden nightstand, a dresser, and even a wardrobe mirror.
I decided to face the mirror towards the wall. Seeing my reflection only sparked a deep self-hatred from within. But as I approached the glass, I noticed glowing yellow text in the reflection, hovering over my head.
I looked up, saw nothing, then turned my full attention to the mirror.
Target: David Cyprus
Level: 2 135/500 XP
Karma Rating: +125
1 Unspent Ability Point
I focused on the line about the unspent ability point and an enormous box expanded across the mirror. Presented by an unfamiliar ability tree, I noticed four immediate options on the first tier. Each of the four abilities branched downward, expanding far and wide in different directions. Everything beneath the first tier of abilities was hidden behind a blurred effect. The box automatically scrolled downward as my eyes reached the base of the mirror.
A pink icon lit up on the tenth tier, with white text.
Karma’s Gaze Mastery 0/5.
What the hell was mastery? Was it another unexplained feature of this confusing system?
This isn’t a damned thing like Chaos Quest.
By figuring out how to access the ability tree, I had gained about as much ground as an ant climbing Mount Everest.
I scrolled back to the tier one abilities and weighed my options. Though one stood out above the rest.
New Ability Learned
Dagger Step: Instantly close a gap between you and your target. Your next melee attack does increased physical damage.
New Class “Rogue” Unlocked
The other ability, Fireball, would've unlocked the mage class, but I lacked the confidence in figuring out how to cast a spell, considering this obtuse system. It almost took two days to even access a character menu. The second ability, Bloodlust, unlocked the warrior class and provided a healing buff on killing blows. However, the ability’s name immediately turned me off. I had enough blood lust as it was. The third choice was Heal, which unlocked the Paladin class. Surely that ability would’ve proven useful, but I didn't know whether selecting an ability would lock me into a class specific tree. Admittedly, Dagger Step lined up perfectly with my personal taste for close quarters combat.
The glowing text faded, and the unspent ability point notification disappeared. Lines connected from the first tier to the second, but failed to remove the blur effect from the icons. The other class trees also vanished.
Feeling a slight sense of accomplishment, I unpacked my supplies, exited the room, locked the door, and returned to the dining room on the first floor.
I took a seat at a table for two next to a large window, which offered an excellent view of the awakening city. Laird dropped off a tray piled high with something that resembled bacon, fried potatoes, and eggs. For being my first hot meal in Gadika, it tasted incredible. Within minutes I devoured everything on my plate, sopping up the rest of the runny yolk with a forkful of potatoes.
Laird swung back around with a glass of water, which I happily drained.
"How was it?" he asked.
"Delicious, way better than Waffle House."
"Waffle House?"
"Never mind that," I said, redirecting the conversation. "Can you give me directions to The Gilded Boar Guild?"
"Of course," Laird said and launched into a lengthy explanation, making me miss GPS technology.
After clarifying a few details, multiple times, I thanked him and headed out. I mounted Mortimer’s horse, finding my bearings much quicker than before, despite the creature’s finnicky nature.
Do horses miss their owners?
“Is it too much to ask for a clean slate?” The oblivious animal ignored me as we breezed past a line of idle merchants peddling wares from the back of their carts. “How about it, Dark Hoof?”
There was no response.
“We’ll circle back to the name later.”
