David noticed a group of burly warriors brawling in the middle of the inn's courtyard, their swords clashing and armor clanging like pots in a kitchen. They were laughing, shoving, and bragging about who could break whose ribs first.
David squinted, rubbing his chin. "Okay… this could either be really f***ing stupid… or really smart." He paused. "Probably stupid. But worth it."
He started striding over, already imagining the chaos he could cause—when suddenly, time froze. Mugs hung in midair, dust suspended, laughter silenced.
A familiar blue shimmer appeared in front of him, and Bepo popped out of thin air, floating cross-legged with his usual deadpan expression.
"Mr. Hawk Mather," Bepo said, voice echoing like a notification alert, "since you've reached Level 2, you can now see the levels of surrounding NPCs."
David's eyes widened. "Whoa, really?"
"Really," Bepo replied flatly.
David tilted his head. "Really really?"
Bepo's holographic hand twitched. "Don't—"
"Really really reall—"
SLAP!
Bepo's tiny glowing hand smacked across David's face so hard that his cheek jiggled in slow motion.
David blinked, rubbing his face. "Okay, that… that actually hurt."
Bepo sighed. "You deserved it. Anyway, to use this feature, simply say 'Level Check,' and the information will appear automatically. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other idiots to assist. Goodbye."
And just like that, time resumed. The noise flooded back in—laughter, shouting, swords clanking—and David stood there, muttering, "I never thought I'd get slapped by a blue glowing midget, but… weirdly enough, it felt… never mind."
He cracked his neck and grinned. "Alright, let's test this baby out."
He whispered, "Level Check."
Instantly, glowing names and numbers popped above the warriors' heads:
Jonathan (Level 15) – tall, golden-haired, and wearing gleaming silver armor that looked like it came straight out of a holy commercial.
Orange (Level 14) – freckled face, messy orange hair, armor so filthy it could grow mushrooms.
NJ (Level 13) – red-haired, half his armor polished like gold, the other half covered in mud and scratches. Don't question how or why—it'd only cost you brain cells.
David smirked. "Perfect."
He strutted forward and stomped his foot against the floor. THUD!
All three turned toward him, their eyes narrowing.
"HEY!" David shouted.
"WHAT?!" they all barked back.
David pointed at them dramatically. "I bet you fifty coins—if you can hit me hard enough to make me grunt or scream in pain, I'll pay up. But if you can't, you gotta pay me."
The trio exchanged intrigued glances. Jonathan folded his arms, a grin creeping across his face. "Hmm… interesting."
NJ nodded eagerly. "Very interesting. I say we take the deal."
Orange chuckled. "Yeh, I could use some coins to buy me some ale."
NJ tilted his head. "Same here. Though last time I ate a coin, I pooped it out and gave it to a goblin."
Everyone stared.
Jonathan sighed. "Boys, boys—coins aren't for eating." He turned back to David. "Alright, Mr. Hawk, we accept your wager."
David blinked. "Oh, so you know who I am?"
Jonathan smirked. "Of course. Everyone knows the famous Hawk Mather—selfish, drunk, bummy—"
"Scummy," NJ added.
"Cheap and greedy," Orange said proudly.
David raised a hand. "Okay, okay! I get it, geez. Let's just shake on it before you hurt my nonexistent feelings."
They shook hands, sealing the deal.
Jonathan cracked his knuckles, then his neck. "Any part of your body, huh?"
David nodded quickly. "Yeah, any part—but not the penis, alright? Because, you know, obvious reasons."
Jonathan chuckled. "Indeed."
Then, without hesitation, he swung a fist straight into David's gut.
WHAM!
The impact echoed. David's eyes bulged; his cheeks puffed up like a chipmunk trying not to vomit. His HP bar flickered — 15 → 10.
He spun in place twice, jumped up four times, and clapped his hands together like he was celebrating something.
All three warriors stared at him, baffled.
David smiled through the pain. "You hit like a woman."
Jonathan's mouth hung open. "My god… he took it like it was nothing!"
"Orange, your turn!"
Orange cracked his fingers. "With pleasure."
David opened his mouth to protest. "Wait, wait, maybe we should—"
Too late.
SMACK!
Orange's hand came down like a boulder, smacking David so hard he twirled in the air and crashed into a nearby table—shattering mugs and scattering food everywhere.
The patrons went silent, staring at the wreckage. Someone groaned.
A man at the ruined table glared, mashed potatoes sliding down his face. "Who the hell just ruined my dinner?"
David's hand weakly rose from the wreckage. "Uhhh… my bad?"
The man stood, cracking his knuckles.
"Oh," David muttered, dragging himself out of the splinters, "this… might've been a bad idea."
The next minute, chaos exploded.
BAM!
David swung a wild punch at the guy who'd yelled at him, and the man swung right back. Tables screeched, mugs flew, and soon the whole tavern turned into a storm of fists and curses.
"Beat Hawk's ass!" someone screamed.
"Knock Hawk Mather out!" another shouted.
"Yeah! Beat Hawk like he's an actual hawk!" yelled a drunk in the back before falling off his chair.
The crowd gathered fast, forming a tight circle around the brawl, cheering like it was the grand finals of a gladiator match.
Behind the counter, Rose let out a long, weary sigh and turned to Daryl, whose head was still buried in his folded arms on the table.
"Uh, Daryl?" she said calmly.
"Mmm," he grunted, not moving.
"It seems your boyfriend is causing chaos again."
"Mmmmm."
Rose leaned closer, resting her chin on her palm. "He's fighting someone."
"Mmmmmmm—OH MY GOD."
Daryl shot up, chair scraping against the floor, his eyes bloodshot with disbelief. He stormed toward the roaring crowd, shoving people aside with an irritated growl. "Move. Excuse me. MOVE."
When he reached the front, he froze—David was in the center, getting his face rearranged by a man twice his size.
Each punch echoed through the room.
David reeled from another hit, dazed, thinking, Man, this guy hits harder than my dad used to.
Then he blinked, realizing what he just thought. "Wait—why the hell am I thinking about that now?!"
The man wound up for one more punch—
—but David's instincts kicked in. He ducked low, spun, and threw a desperate haymaker.
CRACK!
The man dropped like a sack of bricks. Silence swept through the room for a second.
Then Orange pointed. "Oh my god… Mr. Hawk took those hits like they were pillows!"
NJ's eyes sparkled. "Man, I wish I had his body! Every time I reach for honey, bees sting my ass!"
Orange gasped. "Oh my god—you too!?"
They both hugged dramatically. "TWINS!"
Meanwhile, Jonathan—his armor now dented from excitement—grabbed David's wrist and raised it high. "We have a winner! Hawk Mather! The man who eats punches for breakfast!"
The crowd booed instantly.
David, panting and bruised, smirked like a champion. "Hah! Suck it!"
He flipped both middle fingers in the air.
BOOOOOOOOOOO!
Daryl pinched the bridge of his nose. "Mr. Hawk, what the hell are you doing!?"
David blinked innocently. "Uhh, fighting? What's it look like?"
"It looks like everyone here wants to kill you!" Daryl barked, gesturing to the mob of angry faces.
David gulped, eyes darting around. "Oh."
One second later—
THUD!
He was punched so hard he flew through the air and crashed straight into the bar, knocking over a shelf of drinks. Bottles shattered, beer rained down, and Rose yelled, "HEY! NO THROWING PEOPLE INTO THE BAR! EVEN IF THAT SAID PERSON IS AN ASSHOLE!"
David stumbled to his feet, soaked in ale, eyes blazing. "Alright. That's it. EVERYONE'S GONNA CATCH THESE HANDS!"
He dove into the crowd like a madman. The next instant, everyone was fighting everyone. Tables toppled, mugs flew, and a chair exploded on someone's head.
And somehow—somehow—it turned into dancing.
Daryl found himself shoulder to shoulder with David, both of them laughing uncontrollably, arms linked with Jonathan, Orange, and NJ. They kicked their legs in perfect rhythm as the bard started playing out of nowhere.
"LEFT, RIGHT, LEFT, RIGHT—DRINK!" they all sang drunkenly, mugs raised high.
Rose just stood behind the counter, arms crossed, watching in disbelief. "I hate this job," she muttered.
Hours later...
The inn was quiet again, moonlight spilling through the windows.
Outside, in the forest, David groaned awake, half-buried in grass and completely naked.
He sat up slowly, rubbing his temples. "Ugh… my head." He blinked around, confused. "Where the hell—"
He looked down. "Ah, shit… not again."