With the coins in hand, they went straight to the auction house and bought a basic Herbalist Gathering Skill Book for two copper coins.
If Ren had had better luck or had targeted humanoid spawns during those first twelve hours, they probably would’ve already picked up a couple skill books just from random drops.
But no.
His luck had been absolute trash.
No freebie drops.
Non-humanoid creatures could, once in a blue moon, drop more than just ingredients—but it was rare. Very rare. So rare that most players wrote it off as a myth, the kind of thing you only heard about from a friend of a friend who swore a rabbit once dropped a magic ring.
No beginner blessings.
Nothing.
So he had to fork over his coppers like a sucker.
With three copper coins left, they swung by the town’s logistics board and rented a basic warehouse under Ren’s name.
It cost him one copper coin for the first week.
Not bad.
The warehouse was just a tiny stone room attached to the main hall—but it had shelves, chests, and most importantly, infinite weight tolerance.
That was crucial.
Ren’s bag space was filling up fast.
He was still carrying loot not just from himself, but from Reed and Folo too.
And as more people logged in from their dormitory rotation, it was only going to get worse.
Until they had an actual official guild—with an actual shared guild vault—Ren was stuck being the weird loot mule for the entire operation.
Three players wasn’t too bad.
Ten?
He was already mentally preparing for how much it was going to suck—especially since he was the only guy not working a real-world shift right now.
In his original life, at this point, he would’ve been gearing up to start a soul-sucking food delivery job.
Not this time.
Cheese castles didn’t build themselves.
They finished organizing their inventories, dropped off everything they didn’t immediately need, and then headed toward the town square.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
And immediately, they were hit by the pandemonium.
The town square was packed.
Newbies shouting over each other.
Recruiters hawking group invites like they were selling discount furniture.
“LOOKING FOR DPS, LEVEL 2 ONLY, NO NOOBS!”
“NEED RANGER, FAST KILLS, SPLIT LOOT 90-10.”
“NO CLERICS, STOP PMING ME!”
Ren couldn’t help but laugh.
Everyone out here was desperate and new, but they still had opinions.
There were players arguing over loot splits like they were lawyers at an inheritance trial.
One guy was demanding that all rare drops went to him because he “had main character energy.”
Another guy was offering to sing live during battles if people grouped with him.
It was glorious, hilarious and totally what he expected.
Ren needed none of it.
What he needed was simple: a large enough group that two under-leveled clerics could hide behind and not immediately get murdered.
There was just one problem.
Nobody was looking for two clerics.
One, sure.
Maybe.
But two?
Forget it.
At most, they’d accept one—and even then, they wanted a cleric who was already Level 2 or Level 3.
Fortunately, there were no Level 3 clerics floating around here yet.
Otherwise, Ren’s odds would’ve been even worse.
Ren sighed, lifted his staff in the air dramatically, and shouted:
“LOOKING FOR GROUP! QUESTS! POTIONS PROVIDED!”
The words ‘quests’ and ‘potions’ floated across the square like baited hooks.
Immediately, a few heads snapped around.
What they didn’t know was the “quest” Ren was offering was his hidden chain quest from Widow Shelly—and the system wouldn’t actually reward them anything.
They didn’t need to know that though.
They just needed to swing swords and look threatening while he and Kanuka got the real rewards.
After about fifteen minutes of shouting, negotiating, and dodging two different recruiters trying to aggressively poach him for their “super pro guild,” Ren cobbled together a group.
Three Warriors.
A Ranger.
A Thief.
And a Mage who looked like she barely knew which end of the staff to hold.
It wasn’t a dream team.
But it was bodies.
And bodies were shields.
Ren promised each of them a basic healing potion at the end—
one each.
Not a fortune.
But better than running around farming Horned Rabbits and Spiky Pigs for half a point of experience at a time.
It wasn’t pretty.
But it would work.
Because sometimes, surviving wasn’t about playing perfectly.
It was about dragging yourself across the finish line and daring the game to try and stop you.
Just as Ren was finishing up assigning people into loose formation groups, Kanuka came jogging up from the marketplace, still stuffing a half-eaten meat bun into his mouth. He had begged for 1 copper coin, and used it for this meat bun.
Food in-game tasted great, and even gave buffs. Meat buns, for example, gave a regeneration in mana speed for two hours.
He skidded to a halt next to Ren, robes flapping everywhere, and blurted out loudly—
“Dude, why are there so many noobs here?”
Half the group turned and gave him dirty looks.
Ren slowly closed his eyes and counted to five.
“You are one of those noobs,” he said through gritted teeth.
Kanuka looked around, realized he was the lowest level person here besides maybe the Mage, and coughed awkwardly.
“Right. Right. Sorry. Happy to be here. Go team.”
The Warriors snorted.
The Ranger rolled his eyes.
The Thief mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “freaking amateurs.”
Ren mentally slapped himself in the face.
‘Cheese mountain,’ he reminded himself stoically.
‘Cheese mountain. Cheese mountain. Cheese mountain.’
He lifted his staff, gave a grand fake flourish, and said:
“Alright, adventurers! Let’s go save a dying kid and totally not die ourselves in the process!”
Somewhere behind him, Kanuka whispered, “Wait, they didn’t know about the dying kid?”
Ren decided he didn’t hear that.
He just pointed dramatically toward the south gate, where the wildlands and the real danger waited.
The party shuffled into motion, clanking and stumbling their way toward glory—or at least a whole bunch of bruises.
Either way, they were moving.
And sometimes?
That was enough.
