The straw mattress is lumpy and flea-infested, but I wake with a lightness I haven't felt in years. It is the sleep of a free man. The hunger is there, of course, a low rumble in my stomach, but it's no longer agonizing. It is a purpose. It gives me a direction.
I go down to the inn's common room. It's a sordid place, filled with weary travelers and early-morning drunks. I spend a few of Roxis's coins on a bowl of lukewarm porridge and a cup of water. It is a luxury. Eating food I paid for with money that isn't the wages of my own servitude.
After the meager meal, I head to the Guild. The atmosphere is quieter than yesterday. Fewer adventurers, more focus. I go straight to the quest board, ignoring the occasional glance. I am Steel rank. I have to start at the bottom.
My gaze lands again on a simple quest: "Extermination of giant rats in the cellar of 'The Golden Loaf' bakery. Reward: 10 copper pieces."
Rats. It's a sign. My career began in the sewers with their spectral cousins. It's a fitting return to my roots. It's a simple, thankless task, perfect for a beginning.
I take down the scroll and present it to Lena. She barely glances at it.
"The bakery is two streets from here, toward the market. Speak to the owner, a Master Thimblen. Do a good job. Reputation is the only currency that really matters in this business."
I leave the Guild, quest in hand. "The Golden Loaf" is a charming little shop, the smell of hot bread a stark contrast to the rest of the neighborhood. The owner, Master Thimblen, is a short, round, bald man, his face covered in flour and worry.
When I show him the Guild scroll, his face lights up with relief.
"Ah, finally! Those creatures! They're devouring my flour, soiling my supplies! They're enormous, young man, as big as cats!"
"Show me the cellar," I say simply.
He leads me to the back of the shop, to a wooden trapdoor. "Be careful. They're vicious."
He opens the trapdoor, revealing a stone staircase plunging into darkness. A smell of mold and rodent droppings wafts up from the depths. It's a familiar smell.
"I'll handle it," I assure him.
I descend, closing the trapdoor behind me so as not to be disturbed. The cellar is dark, damp, and cluttered with ripped-open sacks of flour and old barrels. My Night Vision instantly pierces the gloom.
I draw my dagger. The air is heavy with the presence of the creatures. I can hear them scratching, squeaking in the dark corners.
Name: Giant Rat
Level: 1
Status: Wary
Level 1. After basilisks and undead miners, it's almost insulting. But it's a job. And I will do it well.
I don't waste any time. I move in silence, my enchanted armor and boots making me a shadow. The first rat doesn't see me coming. My dagger pierces its skull. An instant death.
You have defeated [Giant Rat]!
5 XP
Five points. It's not much, but it's a start. I do not consume its essence. It's not a magical monster. And the thought of doing so disgusts me. My skill, I feel, has more... exotic tastes.
I continue my work. It's less of a fight and more of a slaughter. I use the darkness, my speed, my Dagger Mastery skill. Every blow is precise, every death is quick. It is real-world training.
In a few minutes, the cellar is silent. I have killed a dozen rats. The quest is complete.
I go back up. Master Thimblen is anxious.
"Well?"
"It's done. You won't be bothered anymore."
He cautiously descends the stairs, a lantern in his hand. He returns a few moments later, his face beaming.
"Incredible! You are terrifyingly efficient! Here, young man, here!" He hands me the ten copper pieces and even adds two more. "For the quick work. Come back anytime for a loaf of bread, on the house!"
The gratitude in his voice is a reward more valuable than the coins. I helped someone. I solved a problem. The feeling is new.
I return to the Guild to have my quest validated. Lena stamps my scroll and updates my plate with a simple gesture.
"First quest completed," she says without expression. "Don't get a big head."
I don't get a big head. I take another quest. Then another.
My first week as an adventurer is a whirlwind of trivial tasks. I hunt low-level goblins harassing farmers on the outskirts of the city. I retrieve items dropped down wells. I escort a herbalist through a relatively safe part of the forest.
Every quest is a lesson. I learn to read tracks, to move through the forest, to negotiate with clients. Every fight, even against weak creatures, refines my technique. My Dagger Mastery level increases.
My level progression is slow, but steady. The experience gained from low-level creatures is meager, but it adds up.
Name: Reinhardt Valdios
Level: 4
Experience: 382/400
I am on the verge of reaching Level 5.
With the money I earn, I can afford a slightly less shabby room, regular meals. The constant hunger from my skill is still there, but it has become background noise. Normal food keeps it at a manageable level. I only feel the need to devour essence when I am seriously injured or use too much energy.
One evening, as I sit in a tavern eating a hot stew, I overhear a conversation at the next table. It's a group of Bronze-ranked adventurers, veterans.
"...the Whispering Ruins," says one of them, a dwarf with a braided beard. "The Guild's expedition failed again. Two dead. They can't get past the Skeletal Guardian."
"It's a Silver-rank quest, anyway," replies his companion, an elf archer. "Way out of our league. They say the Guardian protects an ancient library full of skill scrolls. An unimaginable treasure."
A library of skill scrolls. The words burn into my mind. The Skeletal Guardian. An undead creature. Like the Miner.
Curiosity, that old, dangerous enemy, awakens within me. The Whispering Ruins are in the foothills of the mountains, a half-day's walk from Kryndal. It's a dangerous area, far beyond what a Steel rank should even consider.
But the idea of a library of skills... that is the kind of power that can change a life. Elara sold me a single scroll for a fortune in ore. An entire library...
The next day, I don't take a quest from the Guild. I buy supplies: water, dried meat, bandages. I tell my innkeeper I'm leaving for a mission that will take several days.
Then, alone, I leave the city. Not by the main road, but by the hunters' trails. My goal is not to charge headfirst into the ruins. That would be suicide.
My goal is to observe. To understand. To find a weakness.
The hunger that drives me is no longer that of my stomach. It is the hunger for knowledge, the thirst for power.
I walk toward the mountains, the setting sun at my back, the shadow of my ambition stretching far ahead of me. I am an adventurer, after all. And the greatest adventure is to devour a world that is constantly trying to swallow you first.