Chapter 5: New Home
Cramped, sticky, and smelling of fermented fruit, Fisk clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to attempt to stretch inside the wooden barrel the woman with freakish strength kidnapping him had called her berry basket.
Of course it wasn't really a kidnapping, although Fisk couldn't help but feel like it was given the absurdity of the situation.
Still, he was lucky to have been stumbled upon, without the woman's help he would have died due to his substance points being depleted.
Damn Eve... took my crutches and didn't even bother giving me food! Fisk scowled inwardly, swearing to punt the little runt when he got the chance.
Being moved, Fisk kept his ear to the wall of his cage, listening intently to the change from the crunch of leaves and sticks of the woods, to the soft crushing of grass beneath feet.
“Where am I…” Fisk muttered before opening his map.
An interface appeared before Fisk, a tiny blue dot showing his location in a wide world obscured by mist. According to the guide, this was called the fog of war which would disappear as he explored the world.
Fisk pursed his lips, fortunately, while unable to move, he could still interact with his interfaces by thought alone, allowing him to track his progress towards a dot on his map.
Liurnia Village? Fisk muttered inwardly as sounds of people talking began to flutter into his barrel.
Players.
Judging from their talk about XP and hunting monsters.
Fisk inhaled, readying himself, his breath held and counting down from a hundred to calm his nerves.
If he was discovered now it would be game over, ironically literal in this case as his survival hinged on anonymity and obscurity.
If one player discovered him, ALL players would discover him. The forums a source of instant information on a scale that would make Google blush.
Then, Fisk felt a change in atmosphere, a slight shift of the airflow that entered his berry cage.
He was indoors.
“Finally!” Faith said, Fisk's body shifting as he was placed on the floor with a loud wooden thud.
The top opened and the cage was tipped, allowing Fisk to spill out with a groan.
“Ugh…” Fisk muttered, stretching out on the ruby red rug beneath his body as his eyes stared up at the rustic mudbrick roof that reminded him of his tour in Africa.
“Oops, are you okay?”
“Yeah… I'm fine,” Fisk groaned, stretching his back.
How the hell is this a game and I still get back pains?
“You can use this room, but once you're healed you'll have to go!” Faith said quickly before shutting the wooden door, leaving Fisk covered in berry juices, dirt, and alone in a windowless room laden with barrels.
“Well, there's a bed at least…” Fisk said before sighing and taking stock of his surroundings.
Non-hollow floor. No crawlspace. No windows. A dresser, bed, six barrels of fermenting berries judging from the odor. One entry point… maybe if I put my back to the bed, I can kick at my attackers…
Fisk sat up and dragged himself across the floor to rest his back on the bed before opening up his menu.
“Hmm… now what was I doing oh, right… blueprint,” Fisk stroked his chin, opening up and eyeing the “gift” Eve had given him.
“Air-trekker forge leg Mark 1…” Fisk muttered, the rarity of the blueprint apparently yellow for legendary.
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
{Air-Trekker Forge Leg MK1}
[Potential Skill: ???,???,???]
-Recipe: Iron ingot x5, (Any) Magic Matrix x 2, Florren Wood x3, Silver Ingot x 1, Rabbit’s paw x1]
-Requirements:
[14 Strength]
[15 Dexterity]
[Smithing V]
While Fisk had no idea where to begin looking for the materials or where to even get it forged, the player forums did.
Fortunately, all one needed was to hire a blacksmith, there was just one problem….
He couldn't walk. Hell he couldn't even expose himself lest he be hunted for his alleged rare drops.
But, he had a plan, one that involved Faith if she was up for it.
According to the forums, quests could be transferred to others, whether by consent or by death. If he asked Faith to do something, she could probably ask a player to do it and initiate a quest; however, the problem now was how would he motivate her to help him more?
Fisk rubbed his chin. He rather not resort to violence if he could help it, but he also had nothing to trade…
Kindness of the heart it is… there must be a reason Eve sent me here…
Fisk sighed, laying his head down on the side of the bed with his gaze focused on his missing leg.
“This is crazy… am I crazy? I was crazy once… they locked me in a room, a rubber room, a rubber room full of ducks… Or is this just a dream I can't wake from?” Fisk mumbled, sighing as he thought again about Eve’s words.
What do you want to do.
“Hey,” Faith said, a knock on the door followed by the poking of her blonde head into the room, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, what's up?” Fisk asked as the woman entered carrying grey bed-linens, pillows, and what looked like clothes.
“Here, I think these fit you, I brought some bedsheets and some actual food, something better than red berries,” Faith said, her smile and expressions so life-like Fisk had a hard time believing she was simply an AI. “Are you sure you're okay?”
“Y-yeah. Ehem. Yeah. I'm fine, thank you,” Fisk said, taking the bowl of cooked soup with chunks of floating something and what he assumed were vegetables.
Best not to ask. Fisk said to himself as his hostess opened the door to leave but not before pausing for a moment.
“You can leave the bowl on the chest, and you can stay for however long you need,” Faith said, “I'll bring a bucket and water for you to bathe later.”
“Wait,” Fisk called out, “Why are you helping me?”
Faith looked away for a moment, “I don't know, you just seem like you really need help.”
Silence, Fisk at a loss for words.
With that she left, leaving Fisk alone with his bowl of soup and new clothes.
Fisk sat in silence for a few moments, unsure of what he was feeling inside. He ignored the sensation, instead turning to the warm bowl in his hands.
“Well, it's time to see if this works…” Fisk said, staring at the bowl. “Observe.”
[Skill Acquired! {Observe Level 1}]
[Otterpaw Greenleaf Stew: Rare]
-“Specialty soup made in Liurnia Village. Improves HP, SP, and gives a moderate strength buff when consumed. (3HR)”
Fisk blinked, “Seems like the forum wasn't wrong…”
He took a bite of the soup with his wooden spoon, the flavor and texture akin to beef stew that sent an invigorating sensation coursing through his body.
“Hm, could use more salt…” Fisk muttered as he opened his system, his eyes focused on the class option.
Support System Menu
Title: Nobody
Name: Tony Fisk
Level: 0
Race: Other
HP: 70/70
SP: 80/80
MP: 50/50
CLASS: Classless
???
???
???
Free Points: 50
STRENGTH: 9
VITALITY; 7
SENSE: 10
DEXTERITY: 10
ARCANA: 5
EGO: 20
TRAITS: None
SKILLS: Observe LvL:1
SPELLS: None
According to the forum all players started at level one. But Fisk didn't. He was level zero with five times the starter points than a regular player.
Apparently numbers going up was a good thing, but Fisk was still trying to wrap his head around stats translating to his abilities.
How would this affect his progression? Was he able to level up? Eve mentioned classes but currently the button was grayed out.
Fisk “If I put half into strength and half into health, I can just get hit then beat whatever is attacking me,” Fisk thought aloud.
Oddly, an image of a caveman with a club entered Fisk's mind.
“The problem is getting to anything I can kill and what to do afterwards…” Fisk muttered. There was also the issue that he was in a protected zone. A specialized place where the Judges kept watch.
According to the forums, the Judges were super NPCs, beings akin to angels that policed players of their murderous desires.
At the thought, Fisk rubbed his stomach, the memory of being attacked in the plaza still fresh in his mind.
Still… it didn't mean he couldn't be killed. In the end, the only one Fisk could rely on to protect himself was himself.
But he could use others.
Fisk opened the forums, his gaze staring at the [Post] option on the right side of his screen.
“Need help… where to find ingredients? Need Iron ingots, Magic Matrixs, Florren Wood, Silver Ingot and a Rabbit’s paw?” Fisk typed on a small floating keyboard.
He hit send, sighing in the process as he rested his head on the nearby bed.
“Now… we wait,” Fisk said, closing his eyes.
