It was about ten minutes into walking that Nathan remembered he had the ability to turn into water and fly.

  Although a small part of him wanted to enjoy the experience, he knew it was of the utmost essentiality that he got a hold of new outfit ASAP. Knowing his luck, there was a non-zero chance he'd just run across a member of the top ten merely while walking around. He would prefer if they didn't immediately raise the alarm and get him in trouble.

  After about an hour of flight, he approached the town.

  He was still in midair, and when he was in this form, it was tough for him to make anything out. He was able to identify people based off of the way their souls seemed to burn in the chest, but buildings and structures came off in a sort of black and gray haze.

  Nathan found it kind of miraculous that he was able to see anything at all, given that he didn't possess eyes.

  This is why when he transformed back into a human and felt his foot sink into a steaming pile of manure, he hadn't been expecting it.

  He stared down at his shoe and sighed.

  "I was going to have to get a new one anyway," he said.

  He'd been wearing the same outfit since the third circle. Back when Bree had been leading a small community, she'd set up stations where people could get food, water, and new clothing. Nathan had taken advantage of this at the time.

  How exactly his shoes hadn't been ripped to shreds with everything he'd been doing was something that Nathan would never know.

  And in the end, it was defeated by literal shit.

  Below the manure, dark gray and dirty bricks lined the floor. All of the buildings around him were made of a similar gray brick. One of the stones was jagged and misshapen, jutting out awkwardly at an odd angle.

  He looked from left to right. He was in the middle of an alleyway.

  Nathan poked his head out and was greeted by the face of a horse.

  The horse was tied up on a fence with some kind of quick and dirty knot. She snorted in greeting. Nathan touched his index finger to his lips in a shushing motion.

  Nathan glanced around the main street.

  There was a man haggling with a woman about the price of grain. He had a wagon full of the stuff, but she was adamantly shaking her head and refusing to buy.

  On the other side of the street, a young woman in a very short skirt was making bedroom eyes at Nathan.

  Nathan awkwardly ignored the woman and looked at the wall next to him.

  There was a wanted poster.

  A wanted poster of a very familiar individual.

  Nathan squinted, then walked over to a puddle on the ground. He placed the paper to the right of the puddle, then looked back and forth at his own reflection, then the paper.

  Yup, that was him all right.

  Well, minus the nose.

  As far as Nathan knew, he had still managed to avoid breaking said nose. The drawing, which was perfect in every other respect, depicted him with not only a broken one, but an extremely oversized one about the size of a baseball.

  The man who'd been arguing with the woman came back to his horse, dejected. He started unwrapping the hitch, when Nathan stood up and walked over to him.

  "Excuse me," Nathan said. "Do you know who was putting these up?"

  The man looked at the paper. His eyes widened.

  "Oh, yeah," he said. "There were these strangers who came into town. Odd individuals, probably otherworlders. They didn't have any tails, and no fins."

  The man's eyes looked over at Nathan.

  "Come to think of it, you don't have any fins either. Not only that, but you look a lot like the guy in the picture."

  "I lost my fins in a boating accident," Nathan said.

  The man winced. "Ah, tragic, that. Sorry to hear."

  Nathan nodded. "Thanks. Hope you can sell your grain somewhere else."

  The man let out a sad chuckle.

  "That would be ideal, wouldn't it?" he sighed. "I don't know what I was expecting. Every other town I've been to has said the same thing. Western grain is no good. In retrospect, I probably should have tried to divide up my grain types, but at the time, Western grain was priced so much higher that it seemed to be a foolish move not to take advantage of it."

  "I'm sure you'll manage to recover." Nathan held out his hand. "I'm... Nathaniel."

  "Harvester," the man took his hand in his own. "Good luck to you, Nathaniel."

  With that, the man finished unhitching his horse and brought him back over to his wagon.

  Nathan looked at the paper and crumpled it in his hands.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  There were humans here in town. He'd have to be on high alert the whole time he was here.

  Nathan glanced around and spotted a ragged cloak out of the corner of his eye. He picked it up off the ground and brushed it off. There was a sticky wetness on one spot, and a suspicious-looking stain on another.

  He didn't care. He wrapped it around himself and shivered when he felt the cold touch his arm.

  "Tailor shop, tailor shop, tailor shop," Nathan muttered.

  Nathan had come across at least 13 bars up to this point. There were four brothels, two stables, and on one notable occasion, he'd ran into a church. It was positioned next to one of the brothels. They were preaching directly out of the Holy Patch Notes, and Nathan quickly decided that he should vacate the premises.

  But for whatever reason, Nathan had zero luck finding a tailor.

  He stopped in front of a building with open windows and peeked in.

  Nope, another bar.

  Nathan was tempted to go up and ask somebody for help, but that would be a fast way to mark himself as an outsider. Not only that, but it was kind of a minor miracle that the guy from earlier had so easily accepted his explanation of losing his fins in a boating accident.

  Nathan did not particularly want to test how effective that lie would be on other people.

  Nathan kept on walking and came to a stop. He was in front of the church again.

  He'd gone in a full circle.

  "Patch Note 0.7!" the priest said. "In this, we see the writer deal with feelings of anxiety over the coming apocalypse. It is here where the Lillards are mentioned for the first time! Our very fate was decided in this verse!"

  Nathan still wasn't entirely sure what these people worshipped. They probably didn't worship B32. And Nathan doubted that she was mentioned.

  Nathan really hoped they didn't worship him, because that would be super awkward and embarrassing.

  Finally, he'd had enough. He walked up to a lady in the crowd and poked her on the shoulder.

  She turned around and glared at him. "If you want something, you'll have to wait until after the service. My rate's ten silver coins an hour."

  "Yeah, no. I was just wondering if you knew where a tailor was? You know, clothes shop?"

  She raised an eyebrow. "What are you, an out-of-towner?"

  "No, I've lived here my entire life," Nathan said. "Yes, I'm an out-of-towner."

  She gave him a funny look, then gestured with her nose toward a building past the brothel.

  "I can't account for their men clothes, but I know that lady there always fixes us up right."

  "I see." Nathan nodded. "Thanks."

  "No problem. Hope you can get something a little bit nicer than that—" she sniffed the air and her face scrunched up. "—whatever it is you're wearing."

  Nathan walked away from the woman and went over to the building she'd pointed out. It didn't look any different than a random house. There were no external markings, nor a sign specifying that it was a clothes shop.

  But when Nathan looked in through the window, he could see a few rows of clothes on hangers.

  What do you know? Nathan thought. They have access to hangers. I wonder if that was a medieval thing, or it’s some kind of modern thing that somehow managed to smuggle its way into this world.

  Nathan opened up the door and stepped inside.

  The lady at the counter locked eyes with him.

  "You aren't a prostitute," she said.

  "Yeah, and I don't plan to become one anytime soon," Nathan said. "I need some clothes."

  "I have some. Do you have money?"

  Nathan opened his mouth, then shut it.

  "I can pay in skilled labor?" Nathan said.

  The woman's eyes narrowed. "What kind of labor?"

  "I'm very good at fishing." Nathan paused. "Wait, actually, how about I just trade with you?"

  "What do you have to trade?"

  Nathan pulled out one of the many jeweled swords that he'd gotten his hands on in the past several circles. He set it down on the table and the woman's hands reached out toward it. She ran her fingers over the gemstones inlaid in the hilt, then nodded.

  "This isn't bad. Not as much magic as you would expect in a modern magical weapon, but this should definitely be enough to pay for an outfit."

  Nathan stared at her. "A magic sword with gemstones inlaid in it is only enough for an outfit?"

  "It is in my shop."

  Nathan was getting scammed, and he was aware of this fact. But he didn't really want to argue the point, nor did he want to try to find another tailor.

  "Men's clothes are in the back," she said. "Just bring them over to me when you've found something you like."

  With that, the woman ignored him and went back to admiring her new sword.

  Nathan walked over to the back of the shop.

  He took a tight-fitting spandex outfit off the shelf and stared at it. He wasn't sure how spandex had managed to make it into a medieval-style world, and frankly, he didn't want to ask.

  He grabbed another outfit. This one was a bright, garish pink and completely unsuitable for any kind of public event.

  Nathan set it back on the shelf. He walked back and forth along the final row, repeatedly stopping at different clothes that looked interesting, taking them out, then realized that he could never justify purchasing it.

  Finally, he came across a simple brown tunic. He took it off the hanger and was pleased to note that there was a pair of pants also there.

  He started to walk back to the woman at the counter when he stopped in front of a wig. It was a sun blonde, reaching down to his shoulders—clearly meant for a woman.

  Nathan took the wig off and put it onto his head. It fit snugly, almost like it was made for him.

  He went back to the counter and laid the clothes on the top. The woman gave a quick glance, then shook her head.

  "I'll need more payment," she said.

  "Okay, now I know you're scamming me."

  She pointed at the thing on top of his head. "You know how difficult it is to make those? It's not easy! I had to convince some poor lady to shave her entire head. The only way that was possible was through a generous financial donation."

  Nathan ground his teeth together. He pulled open his inventory and put a small pile of magic swords onto the counter—enough to where he could no longer see the woman from how many there were.

  There was a beat of silence.

  "I'll take it," she said. "Actually, do you have any more—?"

  Nathan speed walked out of the building, pretending that he didn't hear the woman shouting behind him.

  With all that done, Nathan found himself undressing and redressing inside of an alleyway. If he wasn't mistaken, that was the same pile of steaming shit that he'd stepped in earlier.

  The pants slipped onto his legs and chafed against his knees. If he had a normal human body, he guessed that he would have had rashes within about a day.

  But at this point, his constitution was so freakish that he wasn't particularly concerned.

  Why is it that I still get itches even though my skin is probably as strong as iron? he thought. Like, can somebody explain to me how that makes any sense whatsoever?

  He put the tunic on. Like the pants, the fabric dug into his elbows like needles. He awkwardly stretched and then winced from the pain.

  "Half a dozen magic swords and she couldn't even give me clothes that didn't itch," he muttered.

  Finally, the wig came on last. He took a quick look at himself in that same puddle where he'd seen his reflection earlier.

  The figure was unrecognizable. The cheap brown medieval tunic and pants combo, plus the bright blonde hair meant that he was an entirely different person.

  Well, entirely different aside from having exactly the same facial features. But Nathan didn't want to explore how much plastic surgery would cost in the apocalypse.

  It was turning evening. With everything done, and all his preparations complete, it was time for him to finally move to the next stage—

  Namely, selecting his class.