The stairs to the cellar were never meant to be walked on. Not really. In the ten years Elian had lived in the Rusty Tankard, he had only descended them a handful of times, usually during a scripted [Restock_Animation]. To the System, the cellar was a storage container, a sub-directory of assets that only existed when the door was opened.
Now, as he descended, Elian felt the world struggling to render the details. The stone walls were slick with a moisture that felt like oil. The air was thick with the scent of rotting potatoes and the dry, metallic tang of Valerius's aura.
"Hurry up, citizen," Valerius hissed from behind. The glow of his sword, [Solaris], cast a long, rhythmic pulse against the walls—thump, thump, thump—like a neon heartbeat. "The Void does not wait for the slow-footed."
Elian reached the bottom step. His boots sank into an inch of muck.
The cellar was a cramped square of damp stone, lit only by the flickering radiance of the Paladin's blade. Sacks of grain were stacked in the corners, leaking grey flour. In the center of the room, standing atop a crate of turnips, was Steve.
Steve was a brown rat. He was currently grooming his whiskers. He was Level 0. He had approximately 2 hit points.
Valerius stepped into the room, his cape swirling with a scripted flourish that sent a cloud of dust into the air. He raised his sword, the light intensifying until Elian had to squint.
"Where are they?" Valerius demanded, his voice echoing in the small space. "Where are the Mutant Dragon-Rats? I see only vermin."
Elian's heart did a frantic tap-dance against his ribs. He looked at Steve. Steve looked at the glowing God-King with mild curiosity.
[System Warning: Narrative Discrepancy Detected.]
[Failure Condition Imminent: The Innkeeper is proven a liar.]
The red text flickered at the edge of Elian's vision. He could feel the System's gaze narrowing. If Valerius swung his sword and killed Steve in one hit, the "Boss Fight" would be revealed as a fraud. The [Patience] meter would hit zero, and Elian would be erased.
I need a distraction, Elian thought. I need a Nudge.
He reached into his pocket and gripped the copper coin. He focused his mind on the small, circular object. He visualized the metadata attached to it.
[Standard Copper - Weight: 0.1oz - Value: 1]
Change the weight, Elian commanded. Change the gravity.
A sharp, stabbing pain ignited behind his left eye. A new bar appeared in his vision, glowing a sickly violet: [Ink: 10/10].
As he focused, the bar drained. [Ink: 5/10].
Elian flicked the coin toward the far corner of the cellar.
Under normal physics, the coin would have tinkled against the stone and stopped. But as it left Elian's fingers, the "weight" parameter glitched. To the System, the coin suddenly weighed three hundred pounds and was traveling at eighty miles per hour.
CRACK.
The coin slammed into a stack of empty ale barrels. The wood shattered with the force of a ballista bolt. The barrels collapsed in a thunderous roar of splintering oak and iron hoops.
Valerius jumped, spinning toward the sound. "Void Ambush!" he roared.
"There!" Elian pointed into the shadows of the collapsing barrels. "One of the young! It's using a... a Stealth Displacement Skill!"
"Stealth?" Valerius's eyes widened. "In a tutorial zone? Preposterous! But I see the disturbance!"
Steve the Rat, terrified by the explosion of barrels, leaped off the turnip crate. He scrambled across the floor, his little claws clicking on the stone.
In the flickering, high-contrast light of the Paladin's sword, Steve's shadow was projected against the far wall. Because the light source was low and bright, the shadow was enormous. It looked like a hunched, spiky monstrosity with glowing eyes.
"By the Sun!" Valerius gasped. "The size of it! Its silhouette is... distorted!"
"It's the Void!" Elian shouted, leaning into the lie. "It warps the light!"
Valerius didn't wait. He didn't strategize. He didn't even aim.
"I shall burn the darkness from this place!" the Paladin bellowed. He raised his left hand, his palm glowing with an orange, volatile heat. "[Fireball]!"
"No! Not in the—"
Elian didn't finish. He dived for the floor, burying his face in the damp muck.
WHOOMPH.
The sound wasn't an explosion; it was the sound of the atmosphere being sucked out of the room. A ball of roaring, magical flame erupted from Valerius's hand. It was a spell designed for open battlefields, for melting ranks of armored orcs. In a ten-by-ten stone cellar, it was a catastrophe.
The fire slammed into the far wall, splashing upward. The heat was instantaneous and total. Elian felt the hair on the back of his neck singe. The air became a searing weight in his lungs.
Above them, the ceiling—the floorboards of the tavern—was made of seasoned, dry oak.
The Fireball didn't just kill the rat. It vaporized the turnip crate, the grain sacks, and the remaining barrels. And then, it licked hungrily at the ceiling.
[System Alert: Structural Integrity at 40%.]
"Ha!" Valerius shouted, his face illuminated by the dancing orange flames. "Did you see that? Overkill is the only kill!"
Elian looked up. The support beam directly above Valerius's head was blackening, a deep, ominous crack forming in the wood. If that beam snapped, the entire tavern would collapse into the cellar, crushing them both.
Valerius was too busy checking his UI for XP gains to notice. "Wait... why did I only get 2 XP? And the notification says 'Vermin Slain'? Is the System bugged?"
"The beam!" Elian screamed.
CREAK.
The sound was loud and final. The main support pillar groaned under the weight of the second floor. Dust and glowing embers rained down.
Elian acted on instinct. He didn't have enough Ink for a full Retcon, and he didn't have the strength to hold up the ceiling. He looked at the pillar. He saw the flag: [Status: Fractured - Collapsing in 3... 2...]
He grabbed the air. He didn't try to fix the pillar. He [Nudged] the gravity of the second floor, just for a second, shifting the weight of the heavy stone hearth upstairs to the left, toward the outer stone wall.
[Ink: 1/10]
[HP: 9/10]
His vision went white for a second. His nose began to bleed again.
The tavern tilted. There was a sickening thud from above as the furniture shifted, but the pressure on the central beam eased. The collapse stopped.
[Structural Integrity: 15% - Critical.]
"We have to go!" Elian grabbed Valerius's glowing cape and yanked. "The Void! It's... it's a structural collapse curse! It's bringing the building down!"
Valerius looked up, finally noticing the flaming ceiling. "A tectonic shift skill? Impressive. Very well! We shall retreat to the surface and fight them in the open!"
Valerius turned and sprinted up the stairs, his boots thumping with the rhythm of a man who believed he was winning. Elian scrambled after him, his heart hammering.
They burst back into the main room of the tavern.
The air upstairs was thick with smoke. The Flare spell Valerius had cast earlier had already scorched the tables, but now, a patch of the floor near the bar was actively glowing orange from the fire below.
"The horror!" Valerius shouted, striking a pose amidst the smoke. "The beasts have scorched the earth!"
The front door of the tavern swung open.
A woman stood there, framed by the daylight. It was Sarah. She was carrying two heavy pails of ale, her face set in the weary, patient expression of someone who had spent her life cleaning up after men who thought they were important.
She stopped. She looked at the smoke. She looked at the glowing, golden man with the giant sword. She looked at Elian, who was covered in cellar muck and bleeding from the nose.
Suddenly, the world slowed down.
The smoke in the room began to swirl in a slow, hypnotic spiral. A soft, romantic harp melody began to play from the rafters. The light hitting Sarah's face shifted, softening her features, making her eyes sparkle with an unnatural, cinematic dewiness.
Elian's stomach turned. He knew this effect.
[Event Triggered: Hero's fated meeting.]
[Flag Detected: Sarah - Status: Potential Harem Member.]
Valerius's posture changed. He lowered his sword, his expression shifting from bloodlust to a practiced, predatory charm. He took a step toward her.
"Fair maiden," Valerius began, his voice dropping into a rich, baritone register. "Fear not. Though your home burns, your savior has arrived. I am Prince Valerius, and I—"
Sarah stared at him. Her script was already taking hold. Her pails of ale began to tremble. Her mouth opened to say the line that would bind her to this monster forever: "Oh, brave Hero, you've saved us all..."
Elian saw the flag over her head. [Romance Path: 5%... 10%... 25%...]
If she said the line, she was gone. She would become a "Companion," a secondary character whose only purpose was to swoon and eventually die to give Valerius "character growth."
No, Elian thought. Not her.
He didn't have any Ink left. He looked at his stats.
[HP: 9/10]
Take it, he told the System. Take the blood.
He focused on the stool next to Valerius's foot. He didn't try to break it. He just [Nudged] the friction coefficient of the floorboards beneath it to zero.
[HP: 7/10]
Valerius took another confident step forward, his hand reaching out to brush Sarah's cheek.
His foot hit the frictionless patch.
The Paladin's grace vanished. His golden boots slid outward. He performed a frantic, ungraceful pirouette, his heavy armor clanking like a kitchen drawer full of silverware. He flailed, grabbing for the nearest object to stabilize himself.
He grabbed the edge of Sarah's pails.
Instead of a romantic embrace, Valerius yanked both pails of stale, lukewarm ale directly onto himself.
SPLASH.
The "fated meeting" was extinguished. The harp music died with a discordant twang. The cinematic lighting vanished, replaced by the harsh, grey reality of smoke and the smell of wet dog and fermented grain.
Valerius stood there, dripping with ale. A piece of hop leaf was stuck to his perfect nose.
Sarah blinked. The glassy, romantic look in her eyes cleared. She looked at the dripping, golden idiot who had just ruined five gallons of her best stock.
"You clumsy, golden-plated ox!" Sarah snapped. "Do you have any idea how long it takes to haul that from the brewery?"
[Romance Path: SHATTERED.]
[Status Change: Sarah - Opinion of Hero: Disgust.]
Valerius froze. He looked at his wet gloves. He looked at the girl who was currently wiping ale off her apron and cursing at him.
"I..." Valerius stammered. "I was... the narrative... the meeting..."
"The meeting is over!" Sarah pointed to the door. "Out! Both of you! My tavern is on fire, and you're standing there posing like a prize-winning ham!"
She grabbed a bucket of water meant for the floor and threw it onto the smoking patch of floorboards near the bar.
Valerius backed away, his face turning a deep, humiliated red. "This... this is a bug. The dialogue tree is corrupted. I shall report this!"
He turned and marched out of the tavern, his pride wounded more than his health.
Elian stood in the smoke, his head spinning, his body aching. He looked at Sarah. She was already busy fighting the fire, her movements efficient and real.
She looked at him, her eyes sharp and angry. "Well? Don't just stand there, Elian! Get some water! The cellar is cooking!"
Elian smiled. It was a real smile.
"Yes, Sarah," he whispered.
He had saved her. He had saved the tavern—for now. But as he looked out the door at the retreating back of the Prince, he saw a new notification flickering in the red haze.
[Suspension of Disbelief: 92%]
The world had noticed. The Edit had a cost. And the Hero was just getting started.