Level One God

The town wasn’t as close as Glimmerbang made it sound. I ended up having to sleep some more inside a huge, rotted-out log. Thankfully, I avoided combat and only had to deal with nagging aches and pains, a bite wound, and a minor stab to my chest. As far as life here went, that seemed like a pretty small price to pay for peace.

It was midday by the time I finally broke free of the trees. As soon as I was in the open, I was relieved to see a relatively large town below. It wasn’t a city, but it also wasn’t full of miniature buildings and hellish little gnome things. People. Humans, hopefully.

My brief time in that forest had me feeling desperate for a little human connection. At least robbery probably wasn’t too common. Considering I could simply touch my helmet and zap it straight to my inventory, nobody could steal it. And if they tried to kill me for it, well… I’d be dead, but they wouldn’t get the helmet, and they’d know it.

Small comforts.

The settlement straddled a river and was ringed by a relatively flimsy-looking wooden wall. I noticed a section of the wall was broken and splintered, but a team of men and women was busy hammering and carrying supplies in what looked like a hasty repair effort.

I hiked downhill, suddenly self-conscious of my tomte war criminal outfit.

I took in the sights as I continued toward the town. Behind me, the forest loomed. Everywhere else, it was picturesque grassland and rolling hills. The river cutting through the town weaved its way up the hill and disappeared somewhere into the forest I had just come from.

Once I was closer, I could see the townspeople were all wearing relatively plain clothes. The colors were generally muted, and the style was simple—overalls for men and medieval-looking dresses for women.

One of the women spotted me coming and covered her mouth, then pointed.

A couple of men rushed behind the wall and returned with weapons at the ready.

I held up my hands—it was a gesture I was getting used to in this world. I thought about explaining my distinctly odd clothing combination, but figured less might be more, as far as words went. It would be safer to see how they reacted and go from there.

“Stay there,” one of the men said. He was pointing a pitchfork at me. Inspecting him or any of the other people gathered by the broken wall gave me the same description.

[Human, Level 1 (Wood)] “Humans are the most common race on Eros. Often viewed as greedy, opportunistic, and xenophobic by the other races, their prominence is generally regarded as a less-than-great thing. However, their contributions to Eros's culinary menu are by far the best. Specifically, almost every race on Eros is grateful for the invention of the meatball, which is generally agreed to be a culinary masterpiece.”

“Polianne,” the man with the pitchfork said. “Go fetch Jarn. He’s going to want to see this.”

A brown-haired woman with mousy features rushed through the broken gate.

A few of the others had apparently decided I wasn’t enough of a spectacle to interrupt their work. A thick-armed man gestured for a young boy to bring him a box of nails. He plucked some free and returned to hammering fresh wooden boards into place.

Occasionally, I’d notice one of them staring—probably at my helmet. From what I could see, the level of detail and craftsmanship in my helmet wasn’t ordinary, at least in a small town like this. It was drawing plenty of attention.

I inspected all the townspeople I could see and was interested to find that none were higher than level five. Most were level one, and only a couple seemed to have earned any experience at all. It seemed odd. In a world this dangerous, if they could all earn experience, how did they make it to adulthood without getting in a single fight?

Then I supposed it wasn’t that crazy. When had I ever killed anything in my old life?

Probably never, unless I counted bugs.

Townspeople with different levels were probably involved in some rare, life-or-death struggle and were lucky to come out of it alive. Or maybe they were hunters, simply gathering food on occasion.

“What happened to the wall?” I asked, pointing. I couldn’t help craning my neck to look past the two men still leveling weapons toward me.

Inside, there was a quaint little cobbled street and buildings that looked largely hand-made by unskilled builders. Several doorways were skewed to the side, and most lines didn’t seem straight. But the people looked happy enough, even if they were all rushing around like they had too much to do and not enough time to do it.

“Infestation,” he said, jerking his head toward the grassy hills opposite the woods I’d come from. “It’s over-ripe, and things have been starting to range out.”

I thought about asking what the hell that meant, but decided it might be best to hide my ignorance. I didn’t know anything about these people, yet. I wanted to get a better sense of them before I risked showing just how little I knew.

I took a step closer, trying to get a better look through the broken wall. The man gave a little jab with his pitchfork, urging me back. “Wait right there,” he said through his teeth.

I couldn’t say a flimsy pitchfork scared me too much after literal flying spiders, but I folded my arms and waited as instructed.

I was still standing there when a man in dented and scratched silver armor appeared. He clattered with every step. I noticed he was resting a gauntleted fist on the pommel of a sword at his hip, and a battered shield was strapped to his back. He had dark, curly hair, bags under his eyes, and, by my guess, he looked about 40 years old.

[Human, Level 4 (Iron)]

I raised an eyebrow, feeling a little confused. His level was lower than mine, but his rank was higher. Was it a political thing? Or maybe the levels reset with every rank?

The armored man gestured and the woman—Polianne—came forward with a simple beige robe and pair of shoes. She wasn’t making eye contact as she approached, holding them out for me to take.

“Thanks,” I said, genuinely appreciative, as I slipped into the itchy robe. Once I was covered up, I felt just a little more human, even if I was wearing my crazy helmet and had tomte clothes strapped to my body beneath the robe.

The armored guard moved closer, and the two townspeople lowered their weapons and returned to work. Apparently, they were confident this guy could handle me.

The gap between Wood and Iron must be significant. Or maybe I just didn’t strike an imposing figure.

“Thank you for the robe,” I said, sticking my hand out for him to shake. My eyes drifted to an Iron badge the size of my palm pinning his cloak to one shoulder.

He ignored my hand, so I let it fall awkwardly to my side.

“What brings you to Riverwell?” he demanded.

“I need an Arcanery,” I said. I assumed it was a reasonable enough reason to want to come inside.

Jarn’s expression was pure stone. He looked over my shoulder toward the trees. “You came from The Black Wood.”

“Yes…” I said slowly. Hopefully, that wasn’t some kind of test.

He looked at my helmet, clearly curious. If he wanted to ask about it, he held his tongue, though. Maybe it wasn’t so out-of-the-ordinary to warrant questioning?

“I assume you have money for a room?” he said. “These are dark times. We won’t have beggars and layabouts sleeping in our streets.”

“I have some coin,” I said. Hopefully enough. But I could always do what I needed at the Arcanery and get out of here if I didn’t. Or maybe I could find a way to earn a little before they kicked me out.

He twisted his lips, nodding again. When he spoke, it was if he was talking to himself. “You came out of the Black Wood in one piece. Must be resourceful, at least.” He stared for several awkward seconds before seeming to come to a decision. “You’ll be watched while you’re in the town proper. One of my guards will shadow you. You can have a room for free, but there’s one condition. We’re taking a small party to clear out an infestation at first light tomorrow. You tag along to help, and you’ll be welcome here anytime you like. If not, the room will cost you a gold piece.”

One of the workers smirked at that, and I was relatively certain the price he just quoted me was absurd.

“So, either I help you tomorrow or you send me on my way. Is that right?”

Jarn gave a curt nod.

“I’m new to this area. How far to the nearest town?”

Jarn’s small smile told me all I needed to know. Far.

I sighed. “Alright, then. Let’s meet my shadow.”

Satisfied, Jarn jerked his head for me to follow him over the ruined wall. A younger female guard around my age was jogging toward us. She looked like she was in her late teens or early twenties with short red hair cut to her jawline, blue eyes, and an upturned nose.

I inspected her tooltip.

[Human, Level 28 (Wood)]

She did a double-take when she saw me, eyes fixating on my helmet.

“Lyria,” Jarn said. “You wanted an opportunity to prove you can handle command? Keep him from causing any trouble in town and keep him alive during the infestation tomorrow morning. And,” he added, voice dipping a note. “If you can’t handle that, then there’s no hope of you commanding a squad of my guards. Hm?”

Lyria stood straighter, eyes eager. “Yes, Sir. Thank you fo—”

Jarn stalked off toward the ruined wall, already barking orders at the townspeople.

“I’m Brynn,” I said, extending a hand for her to shake.

She stared down at it, eyebrows drawn together. “What?”

Do they not shake hands here? I let the hand fall and gave a slight shake of my head. “It’s nothing. I was telling Jarn I need to visit an Arcanery.”

Without a word, she turned on her heel and started walking.

I jogged to catch up and fell in beside her. We wove through crowded streets. Somewhere in the distance, I heard the clink of hammering and sawing. A few people had rugs and tarps set up with exotic fruit and meats on display. Flies swarmed the food, but it didn’t seem to bother the townspeople stopping to buy goods.

After a few seconds, Lyria sighed, seeming annoyed. “Aren’t you going to take off your helmet?”

In truth, I felt safer with it on. I’d already had my ass saved by its surprising abilities two or three times. But maybe drawing less attention to myself had its own appeal. “I would prefer to leave it on,” I said carefully.

“And I would prefer if you took it off. You’re drawing attention with that thing. And civilized people don’t walk around towns with their helmets on. Especially strangers. Same way you don’t go walking around with your weapons in your hands.”

I reluctantly pulled the helmet off my head and zapped it to my inventory with a thought.

She raised her eyebrows as soon as it vanished.

“What?” I asked. Shit. Can people here not put things in their inventories?

“That was just… fast. You’re pretty good with mana, then?”

“Decent,” I said, deciding it was probably best to play along.

She looked up at my face, then, and quickly pulled her eyes away.

What was that about?

“Alright,” she said suddenly. “I’d rather not spend all day walking back and forth through town. Before we go to the Arcanery, are there any other errands you need to run? This is the market district.”

“Any libraries here?” I asked, feeling hopeful.

Lyria chuckled. “Uh, no. You might be able to find a traveling merchant with a book or two around harvest season. If you’re lucky.”

Right. I wasn’t entirely surprised. I wanted to ask so many things, but almost any question I had would immediately reveal how clueless I was. I thought maybe pretending to come from somewhere far away would be a good middle ground. So long as Eros was big and unexplored enough, it could give me near-perfect cover for my ignorance.

I’ll just start slow.

“I’m new to the area,” I said. “Would 1 silver and 15 copper buy me much around here?”

Lyria’s smile was crooked. “Maybe one night’s access to a personal space and a meal? That’s all you have?”

I rubbed the back of my neck, embarrassed. I considered making something up to explain my situation, but thought less might be more.

It seemed I was right, because she took one look at my embarrassment and decided not to press me on it. “Well, let’s get moving, then,” she said.

While she wasn’t being outright hostile towards me, I sensed an undercurrent of annoyance from the girl. I supposed I didn’t blame her. It sounded like this was a glorified babysitting job from her boss, and one with high stakes, too.

I followed Lyria through the town, trying not to stare like a tourist at everything I saw. Not everybody here seemed to be an ordinary townsperson. I saw a few people I assumed were adventurers of some kind. One was a crazed-looking old man with a small stone golem in the palm of his hand. He spoke in a low voice, clearly angry and apparently arguing with the creature.

I wished I could inspect everybody I passed, but with my helmet stashed, all I could do was stare. I saw a group of five young men and women. One wore a large sword and armor. A man with the group had on a robe and held a staff. Another pair carried daggers, and a third was wrapped in animal skins with paint all over her body.

The sight gave me a strange thrill as I imagined the powers they must have. Is that what I’d get when I found the “class corestones” mentioned in my prestige path? And I had to assume everybody here could only use one. I would be unique in my ability to use two, as well as getting to equip an extra passive and active skill.

It was equal parts exciting and frightening. My brief time in this town was already showing how hard it would be to keep everything a secret. I wished there was somebody I could trust enough to ask questions. On one hand, keeping everything to myself might mean failing to utilize my full potential. I’d be moving blindly, at risk of fatal mistakes I might never see coming.

On the other hand, trusting the wrong person could just as easily lead to my downfall.

I had always been a good judge of character on Earth. It was why I always seemed to get promoted into positions of leadership, according to my superiors. I guessed I just had a sense for when people were lying or trying to hide things.

Lyria led me inside a stone building, which stood out among the smaller houses and outdoor market-style tents. Unlike everything else in Riverwell, this building looked like it was constructed by professionals.

The inside of the building reminded me of a bank. A strange creature sat on a glittery blue pillow. It was a little smaller than a human but bigger than the tomte. It had dark blue skin with a texture like velvet, with specks of silver that caught the light like fresh snow. It had a meticulously styled poof of silver hair, full facial hair except its upper lip, and it was wearing a kind of magnifying glass strapped to its head.

The clothing it wore was flowing and loose, like it was some kind of meditation guru or spiritual leader.

While Lyria had her back to me, I summoned my helmet and slid it on so I could inspect the strange creature while it still wasn’t paying attention to us.

[Naidu - Level 44 (Iron)] “The naidu are a mysterious race known for their affinity with dimensional magic. They make for fierce mages but usually prefer the calm life of using their skills to earn a living. Most commonly, naidu can be found pursuing hobbies with their riches, like an obsession with fashion, personal aesthetics, and hosting blood sport tournaments. It is widely suggested not to make a naidu angry.”

Huh. I pulled off my helmet and stashed it again just before it looked up at me.

The magnifying lens over its eye clicked, spinning as if it was zooming in to look at me. “Hmm,” he said, leaning closer. “Hmmm. Interesting.”

“What is?” Lyria asked.

“Most peculiar. Quite rare. Strange…”

Lyria let out a slow breath. “He seems to think he has an accomplishment scrip to claim.”

The naidu gave her an amused look, flashing pure yellow teeth. They glimmered, though, more like gold than rotted tooth. “He has much more than one scrip and token. More than I’ve ever seen someone claim at once.”

Lyria looked at me like she was actually noticing me for the first time.

The naidu raised both palms with a clatter of expensive jewelry and sparkle of rings. The magnifying lens over his eye kept whirring and twisting. New lenses appeared, lowering themselves over the naidu’s eye with different colored glass.

He cracked his knuckles, preparing for what seemed like a complex magical spell.

And then he opened a little cabinet to his side and pulled out a black box hardly larger than his fist. It seemed to be made of the same material as my helmet, as if it was a tear in the fabric of reality that showed a curtain of stars behind. One side of the box was covered by a purple cloth.

He wiggled his fingers, rolled his sleeve up, and plunged his arm inside. It shouldn’t have been able to fit more than half of his hand, but he reached in all the way up to his elbow, as if fishing around for something in particular. His silver eyebrows scrunched with concentration.

Finally, he looked satisfied and yanked out a bundle of rolled-up paper and a small bag. He dropped the pouch in front of his crossed legs with a metallic clink.

Lyria stared at the bulging pouch as if it had grown a mouth and started spouting insults.

I shot her a sideways glance.

She simply shook her head, then got up as if she’d been dismissed.

“You’re leaving?” I asked.

Lyria stared. “I’m not allowed to hear your accomplishment scrips being read…” She said the words with the kind of slow disbelief of somebody having to explain that water was wet or things fell when you dropped them. With that, she moved outside the building and let the door close behind her.

I was alone with the naidu, now.

“Well,” he said slowly. He had already unrolled the papers and laid them out before him, eyes skittering over the words. “These accomplishments paint a very strange picture. A very interesting one, though…”

Something glimmered in his eyes that I wasn’t sure I liked.

“You’re allowed to read them, but she’s not?” I asked.

The corner of his dark blue lips twitched. “Of course I’m bound to a pact of secrecy, like every naidu in my position. Lucky for you,” he added. “The story these accomplishments tell would be of great interest to certain individuals.”

A chill ran up my arms, making my hairs stand on end. “Thank you for your discretion, then.”

He nodded deeply, lifting the first scroll to read. I braced myself for the odd personal messages after each accomplishment, but they never came. He simply read them to me, one by one, curiously in the exact order I’d earned them. Whoever my secret messenger was, they seemed to be able to modify the messages I saw through my helmet and keep them hidden from the official scrips.

Once he was finished, he lifted the bulging pouch and gestured it toward me. “If you please,” he said.

He offered me the parchments as well, even though I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do with them. Maybe people without magical helmets liked to have a way to reference past accomplishments?

I took the pouch and thanked him, trying not to stare as I did. The thing was like an oompa loompa crossed with a hipster genie, and I could hardly believe it was real.

I paused, pouch in one hand and small rolled papers in the other. Since he was sworn to a pact of secrecy, I guessed I could afford to reveal some ignorance. “How do I use these tokens, exactly?”

For some reason, he didn’t look surprised in the slightest. “Claim them in your personal space. The bed tokens will need to be handled at a furnisher.”

“The bed tokens don’t work the same way?” I asked.

He wore a strange little smile. For some reason, I thought he was about to tell me something he wouldn’t normally tell people. “The magic required to modify your personal space is… peculiar. Of course, I’m not permitted to go into details, but things like your bed tokens are bound to your personal space. They can’t be sold, traded, or even destroyed without proper protocols. The other tokens, however, are yours to come and go with as you please. You can also sell the rewards you earn from them as you like.”

It sounded strange, but compared to the weirdness of so much I’d seen since arriving here, I guessed it wasn’t that odd. “Alright,” I said, “thanks.”

I paused by the door, pulled the string, and peered inside. An assortment of variously colored metal coins glowed up at me. One was a demonic red color and little black motes of darkness poured out of it. I couldn’t be sure, but I had a feeling I probably shouldn’t flash that one around where anybody could see it. They might get the wrong idea.

Another token was a vibrant burnt orange color with rays of buttery light emanating from its surface. I noticed images on each token corresponding to the type of reward they represented.

My stomach fluttered as I took in the sight of it all. I didn’t need to know about Eros to see how valuable these tokens were. Now I just needed to turn them in.