The next morning, Greg showed up to training with a headache and guilt sitting heavy on his chest. His enhanced recovery, apparently, did not extend to hangovers. His teacher didn’t ask about the previous day, which was somehow worse than if he had.
Brannoc thumbed through the four contracts Greg brought back, glancing up over the paper occasionally as he read. Shoving three of the four sheets into his shirt pocket, he offered the last to Greg.
“Jester rats?” Greg asked, a little disappointed. He was genuinely curious about what was tearing chunks off the pilings at the docks.
“Other three are suicide on your own.” Brannoc eased back in the old rocker and lit his pipe off his flaming thumb. “If you can convince Maeve to go with you, we can discuss it.”
Greg gnawed at his cheek for a moment and looked over the city contract again. He hadn’t actually purchased anything yet, so he wasn’t sure how far ten copper obols went, but doubted it was far. “Fine.”
“Fine?” a thick eyebrow lifted slightly. “No witty remarks?”
“Nope,” Greg tucked the paper into his pocket. “What do I need to know about jester rats, sensei?”
Brannoc’s lip curled into a tight frown around his pipe like he was contemplating whether to tell him anything, but eventually relaxed. “Do you know monster classifications?”
“I don’t think you taught me that yet, so I’m gonna go with no.”
The elf rolled his eyes, a truly horrifying gesture that made the red orbs look like roiling hurricanes of blood. “Monsters are classified into tiers. Vermin, like the jester rats, are the lowest tier. Mostly harmless. Your average person can handle one or two of them no problem, but in numbers they can be scary.”
“Okay, what’s after vermin?”
“Beasts. This is the classification where the average person puts up a notice. The brinegulpers are considered beasts, but only because they swarm. By themselves they’d be classified as vermin. After that you’ve got monsters, horrors, and calamities.” Brannoc took a long drag from his pipe. “You won’t need to worry about those for a long time.”
“Calamities? Is that as bad as it sounds?” Greg asked, curiosity piqued.
Brannoc eyed him for a moment before nodding. “Yes.” He did not expound.
“Okay… So what are the specifics on jester rats?” he asked, changing the subject.
“Jester rats are a little bigger than your garden variety rodent. They’re cannibalistic and, once they get large enough, have been known to attack people.”
“How big?” Greg asked.
“Foot tall at the shoulder, couple feet long on average.” Brannoc blew a couple of thick smoke rings and twisted his fingers below them, creating a vortex of air. The smoke morphed into the rough shape of a rat, but with five long ears that curled off its head in the shape of a crown.
“Gross,” Greg said flatly as the rat slowly spun above Brannoc’s open palm.
“On rare occasions they get pretty big, but the city usually enacts a curfew for a few days and clears them out at night before that happens. If the contract’s still up, that means they’re small. No trick to killing them, though.” Brannoc took a deep breath through his nose, and though he was a couple of feet away from the smoke rat, it collapsed and sank through his nostrils into his lungs.
“What about the other notices?” Greg indicated his shirt pocket.
Brannoc shrugged. “Depends on how you do with this one. I’ll get in contact with the docks. Doubt it’s urgent, but if it is, I’ll send Clover and Ricard. If not, maybe they’ll take you with them on one, or you can get Maeve.”
“You’ve got a lot of confidence in her. She’s not a Gifted.” Greg skirted around the question.
“No, but she’s got a lot more experience than you with these things.” Brannoc patted his chest pocket. “She’s a crack shot, and she’s been able to obtain some pretty strong artifacts.”
“Oh, that reminds me of a question I had. Is it Q&A time?” Greg said, scooting forward on the couch.
“I’ve got no idea what that means, but ask.”
“Sweet. What’s a Dragonheart Artifact?” Greg asked.
“What does it sound like?” Brannoc asked, giving him a sudden flashback to primary school teachers teaching him about context clues.
“It sounds like an item made out of dragon hearts, but that sounds insane…so obviously it’s something else. Right?” Greg lifted his eyebrows slightly.
“Wrong.”
Greg took in a deep, shuddering breath and closed his eyes. Dragons. Okay. That’s fine. “Right. So, dragons are real. I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me that they are rare and gentle beasts that donate their hearts when they die naturally?”
“I’ll tell you they’re rare.” Brannoc said with a shrug. “A little above your paygrade to worry about now though, don’t you think?”
“Sure, but what are the artifacts?”
Brannoc grumbled slightly and nodded to the hallway. “Go get my coat.”
Greg got up and lifted the old fur-lined duster from the hook to take it over to the elf. He reached into the side pocket, then kept reaching until he was up to his shoulder in the pocket. After a moment, he pulled out a small pocket watch and tossed it over to him.
“Dragonheart artifacts are magical items.” He indicated the pocket watch Greg was twisting in his hands. “That one is inert. Needs to be recharged, but when it is, it’ll allow you to stop time for fifteen minutes. Once. Then it needs to be recharged again.”
Greg blinked rapidly. “It stops time?”
“I don’t do well with repeating myself, son.” Brannoc gave him a flat look.
“So they’re just magical items? Like the vehicles in the industrial district? Are those Dragonheart artifacts?” Greg asked.
If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
“No, those are enchanted. Though artifacts are usually used to enchant them.” Brannoc shrugged. “Unless you’re planning on working in there, not really useful information for you.”
“Okay, so what kind of artifacts can I get? Cool weapons? Armor?” he asked finding a tiny dull crystal had been crafted perfectly into the center of the pocket watch.
“How about you work on the basics first. Maybe when you can keep Clover from dropping a hammer on your head every few minutes we can talk about giving you some simple artifacts.”
Greg looked back down at the watch. He was about to offer it back to Brannoc, then got an idea. The blue light extended from his eyes and moved over the watch as he scanned it.
Burrowed Time
Artifact—Legendary
Allows the user to stop time in a one-mile radius around them for fifteen minutes. In this time only the user may move. Should the user interact with any sentient life form during this time frame, the effect will fade. Should the user lose consciousness during the time frame, the effect will fade.
Status—Inert
Requires four ounces of crushed crystal dragon heart to power
“This thing must be priceless.” Greg muttered. Brannoc had said something along the lines of worrying about the contract in front of him and not artifacts, but Greg had pretty much tuned him out while he was reading. He extended his hand, offering the pocket watch back to Brannoc.
“Hunk of metal.” Brannoc huffed and dropped it back into the void of a coat pocket. “You’ve got some rats to hunt. Get after it.” Brannoc jerked his head toward the door.
Greg took Brannoc’s coat and hung it back up on his way out, but paused, sticking his head around the corner to look into the den again. “Mr. Miyagi, when I get back, can you give me the basics of the humanoid races? Where I come from there are only human’s and I don’t want to accidentally offend anyone.”
“You’re asking—me—for an etiquette lesson?” Brannoc squinted at him, brows almost covering his eyes completely.
“Yes, also, is a Titanblood one of these races?”
Brannoc hung his head and sighed deeply. “Yes, why?”
“I may have pissed one off by insinuating he hadn’t gone through puberty yet.” Greg’s voice rose an octave as he bobbed his head back and forth.
“Emberfather, forgive me.” Brannoc muttered under his breath. “Did you get a name?” Greg could hear the regret in his voice as he asked the question.
“No, he was insistent that he tell me his father’s name, though. Lawrence something or other?”
Brannoc snorted a quick laugh, and then another, it continued until the timber of his voice started to vibrate the air around the room. He sucked in a deep, calming breath about thirty seconds later, and for a moment Greg thought he might have stolen all the oxygen from the room. “You insinuated that Laurent Rillon’s son had yet to go through puberty?”
Greg opened his mouth slightly. He considered lying, but then remembered Brannoc’s stats, so in the end nodded. “Yes, I did.”
“You’re going to get us both killed.” Brannoc shook his head slowly. “Go kill some rats, I’m going to see if I can clean up your mess.”
###
NEW QUEST!
You’ve been delegated to pest control!
Kill as many jester rats as you can and turn in their crowns to Guard Tower 17
Reward:
100x copper obols
100 experience
New Ability: Auto-loot
Jester rats were not as hard to find as Greg thought they might have been. Basically, look for places regular rats would frequent, then follow the blood. The first jester rat he’d found was behind a restaurant. A cursing man in a white apron swung a broom at it while it hissed and circled.
Flame strike.
He slipped in behind the little monster, who was too preoccupied trying to get through the door the cook protected. His sword sunk in just below the skull, a dark flame rising up the blade, making it so hot it melted through flesh and bone alike. The sickening smell of burnt grime covered fur filled the air.
Greg had never been a religious person. Then again, in his world, the gods weren’t real, or if they were, they were debilitating hands off. It still felt strange to see something called demonic resonance increasing. Purging the demonic resonance would be another problem. He’d unlocked Ruin Edict, but the aftereffects of that were rough to say the least. He needed to start relying on the basics more. Just like Brannoc said, no need to use an ability when a simple strike would do just fine.
Greg carved off the ring of ears at the top of the dead jester rat’s head and then glanced up at the chef. “What should I do with this?” he asked, hoisting up the skewered body as the ears disappeared into his storage space.
“Dump it.” He gestured to the dumpster. “Stop waivin' the damn thing around.”
Not exactly a thank you, but the rats weren’t exactly terrors of the community. Just pests. Greg opened the dumpster behind the restaurant and frowned. He’d worked a fair few fast food jobs in his teen years, not once had he seen such a pristine receptacle. He dragged his sword on the inside lip of the can, pushing the rat off the end. The floor of the dumpster flared on the rat’s impact, the flash making him recoil. After blinking his vision back into existence, he gave the dumpster another, more tentative, glance. The rat was gone.
A blur of movement in front of him had him reaching for his sword again, but as he stepped forward, he met eyes with a cat. Not a helior or a pordac, no hybrid cat people in this alley. Just him and a little tabby with a mouse in its mouth.
Autumn had fed a stray cat in their apartment for a long time. She named it garbage disposal on the count of her feeding it the kitchen mistakes. When he’d asked her about wasting good food on a stray cat that would have eaten literal garbage, she said, “Everything deserves something good. Even trash cats. Even you.”
He’d laughed. Thought it was a joke.
Greg worked well into the night, tracking and killing rats of various sizes. After some experimentation, he also found that progressing his scan ability was as simple as using it. So, much to the displeasure of his UI, he started scanning everything he came across. Unfortunately, it only worked once per creature or item.
Dumpster
You throw garbage into it. It vaporizes it. [Fragment Surge—Error]..top scanning random shit you little…[Persona Contained]
Even without the ability to see past the thick fog, Greg could tell it was already deep into the night. He took a quick glance into his inventory to see how many crowns he’d collected. Forty-five. He gave himself a satisfied nod of approval. He’d bet that would push him over the threshold for the next level.
Name: Greg Norwood
Race: Human (?)
Level: 1 (700/500)
Class: Pleb
Title: None
You’ve earned enough experience to progress to level two! Are you ready to level?
Yes/No
No. He’d deal with that later. Greg dismissed the sheet and yawned. Now to turn in the severed rat hats and go get some sleep. Greg was able to find the unfathomably tall walls of the city with no problem. Basically, just walk in any direction and eventually he’d run into them. Finding the specific guard tower took much longer.
He finally found a soldier who had just come off wall duty and got directions. Of course, he was on the opposite side. Showing up at Brannoc’s without having turned in the crowns was not an option, so he set off again. Hugged to the wall, he walked the outer ring of the city. Occasionally the ever-present cloud would wane, giving him a quick glance up to the top of the wall.
It was at least as tall as a football field was long, and at the top he could vaguely make out what looked like an oversized satellite dish with a chair attached to the back. He tried to scan it, but it was too far away for the ability to work. He’d have to ask about those later.
About halfway through his trek around the entire city, a dim blue light drew his eyes to the shattered windows of an abandoned building. Memories flashed through his mind of the wailing, unhinged maw of the frost kissed, the feel of his hands breaking as he pummeled the humanoid creature, and watching it burn up from the inside.
Greg’s heart sank as gaunt, gangling limbs spidered out of the window now less than twenty feet from him. Before he could contemplate the effect on his psyche of killing another one of these creatures, its sunken eyes locked on him, dry, cracked blue lips smacking as it let out a gurgling growl. A growl that seconded as a dinner bell, apparently, as the sound echoed through the building behind it and numerous other windows and doorways lit up blue.
New Quest!
Fight or flight? Don’t get torn to shreds by the frost kissed horde.
Reward:
300 experience
Being alive
