After that whole existential crisis on the side of a dirt path. We continued on our journey to Remoria. Which required continuing on a dirt road for nearly half a day and what I learned right there and then. That I hate being an adventurer? Well, they called themselves Questers now, and I wasn't officially one, but I would be. I mean, it's obvious where the plot of this brief story of ours is going. If a publisher picked up this story from an online publication after it gained brilliant success and formatted it into audiobooks, this would happen. Since our world was based on video games, and there is an Earth LitRPG genre. Hey that means I could use the system recordings of my adventure and potentially sell it on Earth through the internet. But what would I do with the money? That was a thought for another day.

  "Are we there yet?" I said for the hundredth time.

  "For the hundredth time, no, we are not!" This time it was Xyn who cracked; the power of annoying pop culture had already defeated Rak.

  "We have been walking for so long; can I just take a sip of my coffee? I'll zoom straight there. You guys can have some too." I offered the beverage, shaking the elixir of life in front of them.

  "No way, I tried a sip of that and was stuck in the privy for hours." Xyn recounted, her face pale, about to vomit.

  Turns out the half human half something was heavily lactose intolerant, and the magic brew went straight through her. Even heavy use of her ghost powers was not enough to stem the flood. Since then, she has kept a wide berth of my lovely beverage.

  "Maybe Rak can give you a piggyback?" I suggested.

  The plan was simple, me and Rak chug some sweet coffee, Jeremy sinks his claws into my shoulder, and Xyn gets a piggyback ride from Rak as we both run all the way to the city at Mach three. I explained it, pantomiming just how we would accomplish this brilliant feat of travel. Xyn and even Rak adamantly refused, but for different reasons. Xyn's reason would be obvious to anyone who has ever spent four hours in a bathroom venting their guts out. But Rak, his reason for not wanting to partake is that every time he tries to use the speed, he throws his guts up. Yes, a giant rock man gets dizzy at high speeds and projectile vomits upon exiting the speed force.

  "Alright, alright, no magic super speeding our way to the city." I held my hands up in surrender, falling before the terrible glares of my companions.

  "You will walk, and you will like it," Xyn demanded like she was my mother.

  I briefly considered the idea of her being my mom. I mean, didn't the psychology paper I read from some Earth variant say that motherless children latch on to authoritative female figures to fill the unmet need for maternal intimacy? Or did that only apply to humans? Quickly shaking my head to dispel that horrible line of thinking, I casually glanced at Xyn, hoping one of her powers wasn't mind reading. She just glared at me, so that was a strong... maybe.

  "Alright, let's keep trudging along and..." Just as I was about to speak, something whizzed in front of me.

  With my impressive reflexes and senses, I caught the oncoming projectile with my hand, mere millimetres from my eye. The dull tip of a truly gnarly-looking arrow was moments from smashing through my pupil and reaching my brain. The gesture was unnecessary as my barrier would repel a flimsy arrow. However, I could not ignore the cool factor of catching an arrow mid-flight. Then suddenly the arrow-tip spun like a drill; it even sounded like a Ryobi electric drill, despite not having a battery pack or a dude on either end in high-vis. However, I knew from a glance that this arrow was no simple bandit tool; this reeked of the system.

  "Scav attack!" Xyn yelled. "Throw away that thing!" she pointed at the drill arrow.

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  "Why?" I stupidly asked just as the damn thing exploded.

  Big flash, my vision went red as the world shifted on its axis. I shook myself awake a few seconds later, lying in the grass, face smoking. It took me a bit to get my bearings back. I see them sprawled across the green. Let me take the time to pick them up one at a time. Sadly, I didn't have any time as a purple figure leapt out of the grass and tried to knife me. No, wait a second, that's not a knife, that's a spoon?

  Leaping out of the way of the dangerous weapon, I got a look at my assailant. A small, diminutive fella, cloaked in a patched and tattered brown surcoat, head covered by a hood. Hooked purple nose peaking out of the hood, with bright veins running down the nostrils. If I didn't know any better, I would have assumed goblin. But I didn't recognise this species; they must not have been common in the north.

  "I have played Knifey-Spoony before. That's not a knife; this is a knife!" I withdrew my Aetherblade with a thought.

  The shimmering blade phased into existence, eliciting a gasp from the hooded creature. Except that sounded like several voices all gasping at once, about three voices in total. Two of them were definitely coming from behind me. Before anyone can try to hit me over the head with some extra spoons. I whipped around and activated Force Blast, thrusting my free hand at the two hooded figures. They went flying, yelling in their squeaky, high-pitched, nasal voices. They reminded me of the Grunts from Halo after Masterchief went full demon on their ass. Having made that note, I returned to face the spoon-wielder.

  "Bring it, short stack." I beckoned to the creature.

  "Pretty blade." He said, like a child that huffed too much helium.

  Stifling a maniacal little laugh, the creature glared back at me, its pupilless black eyes giving off a hungry look. Not at me but at the weapon in my hand, he couldn't stop staring at it. Whatever it was, the thing looked like it wanted to take my sword out to dinner and then to a motel. My baby doesn't swing that way; she is a classy sword. Now curious, I threw an Inspect, which I really should just make automatic. However, that would be a big constant drain.

  [Skav. Level 25. Description: A diminutive, purple-skinned humanoid species. Known for an uncanny ability to craft enchanted items out of discarded junk.]

  Little purple dudes that can make magic items out of junk? Pretty impressive and explains the weird spoon he was carrying. And as I dismissed the notification, he tried to stab me. Only he was still out of reach, just swiping the air in the vague direction of me. That was one of my barriers that got hit by something sharp. I could feel it, like someone tried to scoop a piece of me. Literally, it felt like someone tried to use me as an ice cream container.

  "Did you just try to scoop me?" I asked.

  The Skav just frowned, looking down at his spoon before making a few practice attacks on a nearby tree. Every time he struck; the weapon's enchantment became clear from a glance, and he made small divots in the bark. Using the eyes of the system, I could perceive the strange phenomena from an energy perspective. Every time he tried to take a spoonful of air, a ripple effect of system energy transferred the kinetic force across the distance, while amplifying the effect. All of this was fascinating, but that was when he tried again.

  Not keen on getting hit, I decided attack was the best defence. I let loose a Force Blast with my free hand. The kinetic force collided with the Skav, only for a golden aura to light up and nullify the attack. No, it didn't nullify it; that aura absorbed the energy and... The attack sent itself right back at me, so I quickly dodged it. Instead of blasting me off my feet, it collided with the other two Skavs, who had only just gotten back on their feet.

  "You can deflect stuff? Cool." I couldn't help but marvel at the effect.

  Now that was a defensive skill. What I wouldn't do to get my hands on how it works. I turned to face him again, Eyes of the System still in effect, I analysed everything about this guy. I saw we should study these creatures or, more accurately, examine their creations under powerful microscopes.

  "I don't suppose we can just talk about this? You've got some cool-ass gear; did you make it yourself?" I asked.

  The Skav stopped in his advance, the glowing aura fading. "I make all, I make good junk." He declared in that squeaky voice of his.

  "It's pretty good actually — a spoon that scoops people and a deflection field." I gave the guy props; truly impressive stuff.

  "You make?" He gestured to my sword.

  "Yep, that is a genuine Joey production."

  I sensed the two approaching from behind and could hear my companions fighting elsewhere, probably dealing with the rest of the raiding party. Well, I'm not sure if they are raiders yet; they don't have mohawks, and I assume they are not on drugs. Perhaps they huff helium; I do not judge. Just as the two Skavs arrived, the one before me gestured a clawed hand.

  "I claim the Rite of Junk." And the moment he uttered those words, the two stopped in their tracks.

  "Rite of what?"

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