The Next Day
I sat in the back row of "Basic Economics," trying to keep my eyes open.
My body felt like it had been put through a meat grinder. My shoulders burned from thrusting the spear a thousand times. My legs shook from the stance drills. And the guilt of not able to land a single hit on the stupid elf.
"Mr. Reed?"
I jerked my head up. The teacher, Mr. Halloway, was staring at me over his spectacles. The class, mostly sons and daughters of merchants.
"I asked you a question," Halloway said, tapping his chalk against the board. "What is the primary export of the Northern Duchies?"
"Iron ore and timber," I answered automatically, my voice rasping.
"Correct," Halloway said, looking disappointed he couldn't scold me. "Try to stay awake, Mr. Reed. I know the Unblessed have limited prospects, but sleeping through life won't help."
More giggles from the class.
I ignored them. My hand drifted to my belt under the desk, brushing against the hilt of the short sword I had hidden under my tunic.
Let them laugh. They were learning about iron ore. I was learning how to drive it through a goblin's skull.
The bell rang.
"Class dismissed," Halloway announced.
While the other students talked about going to the bakery or the park, I packed my bag. I had a shift at the Guild.
I walked out of the school gates, pulled my hood up, and headed toward the slums. It was time for my first job.
The quest board for F-Ranks was a sad collection of scraps pinned to the far wall, away from the "real" work.
[Cleaning the Latrines at the Northern Barracks - 5 Copper] [Delivery: Heavy Crates to the Docks - 8 Copper] [Pest Control: Giant Rats at 'The Gilded Crumb' - 15 Copper]
Fifteen copper. That was enough to buy food for three days.
I yanked the paper off the board.
"Rats," the receptionist droned when I slapped the paper on the counter. She stamped my sheet without looking up. "Try not to get bitten. Sewer fever is nasty, and we don't cover the cleric fees."
"The Gilded Crumb" was a high-end bakery in the merchant district.
The owner, a sweating man with flour dusting his apron, looked me up and down with obvious distaste. My gear was mismatched, my spear was slung over a wool tunic, and I didn't have a speck of magical aura.
"You're the... adventurer?" he asked, wiping his hands on a rag. "I asked for a professional. A Bronze-Rank, at least."
"Bronze-Ranks don't hunt rats for fifteen copper," I said, keeping my voice flat. "I do. Point me to the cellar."
The baker scoffed. "Fine. Just don't break anything or else it will come out of your pay."
"Aye."
He unlocked a heavy oak door at the back of the shop. A draft of cold, stagnant air drifted up. It didn't smell like vanilla down there. It smelled like wet fur, rot, and something sharp... like vinegar.
"They've been chewing through the grain sacks," the baker complained. "Big ones. Aggressive. Go on."
I stepped onto the stairs. The door slammed shut behind me, plunging me into gloom.
I lit the small oil lantern I'd bought with my last few coins and hooked it to my belt. The light swung, casting long, dancing shadows against the brick walls.
The cellar was massive, filled with stacked barrels and sacks of grain. It was a maze.
I unslung my spear.
"Seven feet of reach," I whispered to myself, repeating Kaelen's advice. "Keep the distance."
The silence was heavy. I moved slowly, my boots making no sound on the stone floor—or at least, I tried to make no sound. Compared to Kaelen, I was stomping, but for a human, I was quiet.
Scritch. Scratch.
The sound came from behind a stack of barrels to my left.
I froze. I closed my eyes for a second. Intent.
I couldn't feel "magic," but I could feel... hunger. A sharp, prickling sensation on the back of my neck.
Left. Low.
I snapped my eyes open and thrust the spear around the corner of the barrels.
Squeal!
The tip of the spear hit something soft. There was a frantic scrambling sound, and a rat the size of a medium dog burst out of the shadows.
It wasn't a normal rat. Its fur was patchy, revealing scabby, grey skin. Its eyes glowed with a sick, yellow light, and its teeth were long, yellow chisels.
It hissed like actually hissed and lunged towards me.
My spear was already extended. I didn't have room to pull it back for a full thrust.
"Deflect," I gritted out.
I slammed the shaft of the spear sideways, catching the rat in mid-air. It was heavy, solid muscle. It hit a barrel with a wet thud, stunned for a split second.
That was all I needed.
I stepped forward and drove the spear tip down. It crunched through the rat's spine, pinning it to the floor. The creature thrashed, snapping its jaws inches from my boot, before finally going still.
I exhaled, my breath trembling.
"One," I whispered.
Scritch. Scratch. Scritch.
The sound multiplied. It wasn't one rat.
From the shadows of the grain sacks, eyes began to open. Two. Five. Ten.
They weren't just hiding; they were waiting.
"Nest," I cursed.
Three of them charged at once.
In the open woods, a spear is a king. In a cluttered cellar, it's a liability.
I skewered the first one—a clean thrust through the throat—but the rat's momentum carried it down the shaft, its claws scrabbling at the wood, trying to reach my hands. The extra weight pulled the tip down.
The second rat used its dead friend as a ramp, launching itself at my chest.
I let go of the spear with my left hand and ripped the short sword from my belt.
Flash.
I didn't think. I didn't plan. I just swung. The short blade caught the mid-air rat in the ribs, batting it aside. It hit the wall, shrieking.
The third rat was smarter. It went low. I felt its teeth sink into my leather boot, missing my toe by an inch.
"Get off!" I kicked it into a sack of flour.
Dust exploded into the air, blinding me for a second.
I dropped the spear—it was too cumbersome now. I gripped the short sword with both hands, backing up toward the stairs.
"Come on," I snarled, the fear turning into that cold, sharp focus Kaelen had forced into me. "Come and get it."
They swarmed.
It was ugly. It wasn't the beautiful dance of a Swordsman Class. There were no glowing arcs of light. It was just me, stabbing frantically into the flour cloud, kicking fur and teeth, grunting with effort.
Stab. Kick. Slash.
My sword got stuck in one's skull. I had to stomp on its head to wrench the blade free. Another one latched onto my forearm, its teeth scraping against the leather bracer. I bashed it against a wooden beam until it let go.
I killed four. Five. Seven.
The cellar floor was slick with dark blood and spilled flour.
Finally, the noise stopped. The remaining rats, sensing the slaughter, scurried back into the dark cracks of the walls.
I stood there, heaving, my chest burning. My tunic was torn, and I had a shallow bite mark on my thigh that was stinging like fire.
I looked at the carnage.
"Fifteen copper," I muttered, wiping rat blood off my face. "I'm asking for twenty."
I picked up my lantern, which had miraculously stayed lit, and walked to the back corner where the nest had been. I wanted to make sure they weren't coming back.
I kicked aside a pile of shredded burlap sacks.
And then I stopped.
Hidden behind the nest wasn't just grain. There was a crate. A small, black crate stamped with a symbol I recognized from the History books: The Alchemist's Guild.
The wood of the crate had been gnawed through. Inside, several glass vials were shattered. A purple, glowing liquid had leaked out, soaking into the grain that the rats had been eating.
I knelt down, careful not to touch the liquid.
"Mana potions," I realized. "Concentrated mana."
No wonder the rats were dog-sized. No wonder they were aggressive. They were juicing.
But why was a crate of military-grade mana potions hidden in a bakery cellar?
I heard the heavy oak door at the top of the stairs creak open.
"Boy?" the baker's voice called down. "You done? It's been quiet for a while."
I looked at the crate. Then I looked at the dead rats.
If I told the baker I found this, he might deny it. Or worse.
If this was smuggling...
I quickly kicked the burlap sacks back over the crate, hiding it from view.
"Yeah!" I yelled back, my voice hoarse. "It's done. But you've got a mess to clean up."
I sheathed my sword, grabbed my spear, and limped toward the stairs.
I had finished the quest. But I had a feeling the real trouble was just starting.