[ FIRE Spell LV.2 » LV.4 ]
‖ F I R E L V. 4 ‖
– Cost: 40 MP
– Damage: 40% Fire based on INT
– Target: Single enemy
– Cooldown: 2 seconds
‖ E N D ‖
Ren closed the World Chat with a flick of his wrist.
The scrolling wall of bragging, threats, and begging for gil could wait. He had a reason for hiding the real boss from everyone—and that reason was still hanging above this chamber, threaded into the architecture like a secret only a few would ever find.
He stepped beneath a soot-blackened ledge near the ceiling and tilted his chin up. Earlier—right after the Maiden's first shriek—he'd burned into this exact spot with a wide burst of Fire, carving a gap through the tar-thick webs no one else had even noticed.
Now, with the chamber quiet and the torches low, he let a focused ember bead in his palm, then flicked it like a cigarette spark. The ember kissed the char line, and the webbing crackled open.
Something thumped loose.
A coil of braided hemp spilled down and slapped the stone just a few steps from his boots.
[ACQUIRED: Rope!]
Ren grinned. This was why he'd wanted Leonel, Ragnar, and Isolde gone before he checked the ledge—no questions, no distractions, no "What's that?" followed by someone tugging the wrong end and triggering a trap.
He wasn't proud of the scheme . . . but he wasn't sorry either. Knowledge was leverage, and leverage was safety.
He moved deeper into the chamber. The floor here was a mess of cracks—some shallow as scratches, others wide enough to swallow an ankle. If you didn't already know where to look, the important one blended into the chaos. But Ren knew. He stepped carefully, listening.
There. A whisper. So faint he almost missed it.
". . . on . . . he . . . Anyone there? Help."
Ren didn't answer. He didn't need to. He looped the rope around his forearm, braced his stance, and dropped the free end into the narrow fissure. The line went taut almost immediately.
Something tugged back—light, but frantic.
A minute later, a tiny figure wriggled out of the crack like a cork from a bottle and flopped onto the stone, gasping. He was violet-skinned and no taller than Ren's knee, with a razor-thin white mustache perched under a bulbous nose.
A single monocle glinted over his left eye. His ears and chin came to almost comical points; his vest and trousers were finer than anything that had any business inside a spider lair.
"Thank you, stranger," the gnome wheezed in a high, raspy voice, dusting himself off with dramatic little swats. "I don't know how I would've escaped with that overgrown arachnid stomping about."
He straightened, gave a tiny bow, and flashed a wide smile of sharp, surprisingly menacing teeth. "Hubert, at your service."
"Ren," Ren replied simply.
[Your Relationship with Hubert has improved: Strangers → Friends!]
Hubert brightened. "A pleasure, Master Ren! Truly. You have rescued me from a place of misery and poor ventilation."
Ren's eyes softened a fraction. "How'd you end up down there?"
He knew the story already. But with NPCs like Hubert, letting them talk—letting them feel heard—often mattered as much as the rescue itself. Relationships could drift down as easily as up, and Ren needed Hubert at Friends, preferably Intimate, for what came later.
Hubert's thin lips curled, sharkish teeth peeking out again. "Those good-for-nothing Orcs," he spat, nose wrinkling. "It's their fault I've been stuck in this disgusting hole for . . . well . . . years, I suppose! Who keeps count when one's calendar is dust and mold?"
Ren folded his arms and listened while the gnome worked himself into a full rant.
"I was in Maze Forest, you see, minding my own business—entirely legitimate business, I assure you—beneath the Millennium Tree. Lovely spot. Shade, songbirds, customers with coin. Then I spot them: two hulking Orcs, marching along with an elven girl slung over a shoulder like a sack of turnips."
Hubert held up both hands in mock innocence. "Now, I am no snoop. Absolutely not. But . . . curiosity is a scholarly virtue! So I followed. Strictly academic."
He sighed. "One of them spotted me. Chased me with the manners of a drunken goat. I ran here and hid in that crack—marvelous hiding place, terrible long-term lodging—and just when I thought the coast was clear . . . that appeared." He jabbed a tiny thumb toward the cavern roof, where tatters of web and char still hung. "A spider fat enough to block out the sky! Guarding the room for ages. Whenever I tried to climb out, it was waiting."
He slumped, then straightened with a brittle smile. "But now, thanks to you, I am a free gnome once more."
He fumbled inside his vest, produced a polished tin box, and snapped it open with a flourish. "Please. A modest token for a substantial favor."
Trinkets—clever, compact, dangerous—clinked into Ren's palms.
[ACQUIRED!]
❶ Crystal Keys ×4
– Open any lock.
– Invaluable for dungeon exploration and shortcuts.
❷ Smoke Duds ×4
– Flood a 10m radius with dense fog.
– AoE effect; obscures vision and deals minor damage.
– Perfect for escapes and ambush breaks.
❸ Paralyzing Duds ×2
– Charge a 10m radius with crackling static.
– Paralyzes enemies for 1 minute on contact.
– AoE lockdown; fantastic for crowd control.
❹ Monocle of a Tinker ×1
– Temporarily switch class to Tinker for 1 day.
– Gain a Tinker's skills & spells (scales with current ATP).
– Ideal for puzzle-heavy dungeons and mechanical locks.
Ren's grin finally escaped. These were the exact tools he'd come for.
In this world, Tinker wasn't a permanent class. It was one of several situational classes you could assume through rare items—classes that existed for problem-solving, not combat prowess. A Tinker could whip up gadgets on the fly, improvise solutions, bypass traps, and turn sealed doors into inconveniences. Some dungeons practically required one to proceed, or at least made your life miserable if you didn't have one.
The Monocle of a Tinker meant Ren wouldn't need to recruit a specialist or owe a favor to some engineering guild. He could be his own problem-solver—for a day at a time, whenever it mattered.
"Thank you," he said, meaning it. "These will help."
Hubert puffed his chest. "Of course they will! Hubert's wares are second to none—field-tested under extreme duress!" He paused. "Admittedly by me. While hiding. But still!"