The longer Deckard studied the NPC, the stranger he seemed. It wasn’t just his odd choice of clothing but his entire demeanor. Unlike the other villagers, who were tanned and about Deckard’s height, this man towered over him, even sitting down.
His skin was pale, as if he hadn’t seen the sun in years. The most unsettling part was how his high collar shielded his neck and chin from the faint light trickling through the shop window. Was he albino?
“Hello, sir. How are you?” Deckard asked, his voice polite.
“If you want weapons, check the barrels. Armor’s in the bins,” the man replied, not even bothering to glance up from the notepad he was hunched over. His voice was dry, devoid of the warmth or friendliness the other shopkeeper had shown.
His accent only heightened Deckard’s feeling that he wasn't a local—perhaps an immigrant?
Deckard opened the system window, which had opened automatically. He scrolled through the available items and frowned. Crappy sword. Moldy boots. Dented shield. Rusty dagger.
It felt like this NPC was selling discarded junk scavenged from the bottom of the sea. Was this guy even trying?
Deckard sighed and kept scrolling. His hope sank further when there were no cards in sight. “Don’t you sell cards here?” he asked.
The NPC chuckled without looking at him, a dismissive, hollow sound. He wasn’t taking Deckard seriously. Instead, he continued sketching something on the notepad with almost obsessive focus, completely ignoring Deckard’s presence.
Deckard craned his neck, trying to see what was so important. The drawing was detailed—a bird with a curved yellow beak, its feathers patchy and thin, and ugly, bloated patches on its belly. The creature looked sickly and diseased, like something out of a nightmare. Yet despite the grotesque appearance, Deckard recognized it.
“Aren’t those birds all over the beach?” he asked.
“Do you mean the seagulls? Yes,” the NPC responded, his voice indifferent.
Deckard stared at the drawing a little longer. It was good, disturbingly so. There was something almost hypnotic about the level of detail, as though the bird might leap off the page and into reality at any moment. “That’s incredible. You’re very talented,” Deckard said, genuinely impressed.
The NPC let out a self-deprecating laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, right.” His tone suggested he thought Deckard was either mocking him or thought him clueless about what real talent looked like.
Deckard tilted his head. “Why do the local seagulls look like that?”
“What do you mean?” the NPC asked, finally pausing his sketching to glance at Deckard.
“You know… diseased. Their feathers are falling out, and they’re bloated. Shouldn't they be flying around?”
“They’ve been eating trash long before the Rain of Fire. The radiation just made them more resilient, more twisted. They’re less seagulls now and more vultures after the mutations. Winged rats. But they keep the beaches clean.” He shrugged as if the horrifying fact was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
This was the longest conversation Deckard had ever had with an NPC. He could hardly contain his excitement—he’d triggered something here, a deeper interaction. He wanted to keep it going. “So, why are you drawing them?”
The man didn’t answer right away. Instead, he ripped the paper from his notepad, crumpled it into a tight ball, and threw it into a nearby bin. “Argh! Another failure,” he muttered under his breath. “Do I really need to go back to basics again?”
Deckard gulped, feeling awkward. “I thought it was pretty good,” he offered, trying to sound supportive.
The NPC looked directly at him for the first time, as if he only now had noticed him. His eyes were sharp, scrutinizing. “You. What’s your name?”
“Deckard,” he stammered.
“Good. Here.” The NPC tossed a bucket at him. “Go fetch me a [Common Starfish].”
Deckard blinked, caught off guard. “S-sure.” He barely had time to process the sudden change in tone before a system notification popped up.
New quest activated: [Ronan’s Drawings].
Ronan’s Drawings (Common)
Description: Ronan is struggling to capture the essence of a seagull. He feels the need to return to simpler subjects to improve his craft.
Objectives: Catch a [Common Starfish].
You’ve received a quest item: [Old Bucket].
Deckard stared at the notification for a moment, wide-eyed. His first quest! He had triggered it all by himself. A sense of accomplishment surged through him. After several unproductive interactions with NPCs, it felt good to finally do well.
Sure, he still had a long way to go. He knew he wasn’t the most social person in the world. But if that made Savvy taunt him and say that he didn’t have what it takes, he was in for a surprise. Perhaps this game would even prove to be good for him and help him open up a little more.
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After he received the quest, he couldn’t help but think of that 10-year-old brat who had mocked him earlier. Take that, cheeky kid! Who needs guides when you’ve got brains?
Eagerly, he opened his inventory and inspected the quest item.
Old Bucket (Common)
Description: It can hold one small fish without requiring the fisherman profession.
The item’s description was interesting, suggesting that he could bypass some of the profession-based limitations of the game. For a brief moment, Deckard wondered if this quest would push him toward becoming a fisherman. But no—he was here to explore questing, not lock himself into one profession so early. He’d just get the hang of it and see where it led.
Scrolling further, he noticed other items he hadn’t even realized he had—a small wooden sword and five loaves of bread.
Wooden Sword (Common)
Description: A toy, really. Something that kids play with to learn how to fight
Effects: +4 attack power.
Stale Bread (Consumable)
Description: Bread that is a few years old. If you add some water to soften it, it might be easier to chew.
Effects: +30 hp.
In addition to the two items, he also had 50 coppers to his name. It was enough to buy one piece of garbage from Ronan, but Deckard would pass on that. Instead, He’d save his money to buy cards when the time came, wherever he could buy them.
He grinned to himself. After wandering around with no aim, it felt good to have an objective. He equipped the bucket and headed out the door.
*
Martin flicked through the quest guide. He’d already done most of the mundane tasks—[Fixing the Nets], [Reaching the Coconuts]. Easy. Boring. Child's play, really. His eyes skimmed over the next quest: [Shopkeeper’s Drawings].
He wrinkled his nose in disgust as he checked the rewards. “Ugh, what do I want to become an artist for?” he muttered to himself, rolling his eyes. The quest chain promised little more than measly rewards and a profession no self-respecting player would touch.
Even if he did want to become one of the worst professions in the game, there were a dozen better ways to go about it. Easier. Faster. Less embarrassing. He swiped past the quest, already forgetting it existed.
Movement caught his eye, and Martin’s lips curled into a smirk as he spotted the clueless player he'd met earlier.
Grumpy Grandpa was shuffling out of the NPC store, looking all puffed up like he’d just won the lottery. With deliberate slowness, Deckard held a bucket up for Martin to see like it was some kind of trophy. He pointed at the shop and then dusted off his shoulder. The smug look on his face was too much. He actually thought that was impressive.
Martin couldn’t help himself. He burst out laughing, clutching his stomach. “What a noob!” he snorted, loud enough for Deckard to hear. He didn’t care. Why would he? The old man had no idea how bad he was making himself look.
Shaking his head, Martin turned his attention back to the quest guide, leaving Deckard and his bucket behind. Meanwhile, real players like him would be doing real quests.
His eyes lit up when he saw the one he wanted—hunting a seagull elite. Now that was more like it. The reward was a new weapon. No boring fetch quests, no ridiculous starfish hunts. Just pure, simple combat. Exactly what a top player like him deserved.
He grinned to himself, already imagining the look on everyone’s faces when he got his hands on that weapon.
*
Deckard descended the ladder, a slight smirk creeping onto his face. It felt good to rub it in that kid’s face. He'd triggered his first quest without needing any shortcuts. Not bad for someone who’d been in the game for less than half an hour. His heart swelled with a tiny sense of triumph.
He wandered toward the water’s edge, letting the cool waves lap at his feet, and moved away from the shadowy pier to get a better look. Starfish liked shallow waters, right? It made sense. Just find one and plop it in the bucket. Easy quest.
The sunlight helped him see through the clear water, and he waded in until the water reached his knees. That’s when he saw it—a seagull, just like the one in Ronan’s drawing, glaring at him with cold, beady eyes. Its crooked yellow beak twitched as if debating whether Deckard was worth the effort.
Diseased Seagull
Lvl. 2
Hp: 100
????
He tensed. Should I fight it? He opened his inventory and equipped the wooden sword, its weight unfamiliar in his hand. He’d been in plenty of fights before, sure, but never as the aggressor. Always the one on the receiving end. How hard could it be? It’s just a seagull.
He stepped forward cautiously. The seagull’s shriek pierced the air, startling him, but Deckard steeled himself. You’ve got this. One good hit. He swung the sword down, aiming for the bird’s head.
-4
The numbers floated above its health bar. Barely a scratch. Before he could even process the damage, the seagull lunged with a screech, wings flapping wildly. Deckard froze, instinctively flinching. Move! Do something! His body didn’t listen.
The bird’s beak jabbed him hard in the side.
-8
Pain flared, and Deckard’s breath caught in his throat. It deals double the damage I do! That’s… that’s not fair! Panic started to creep in. He tried swinging again, but the sword felt clunky in his hands, his motions slow and awkward. The seagull dodged easily, its next attack already coming.
Then, another sharp jab—this time from behind.
-8
A second seagull had joined the fray. Deckard stumbled backward, completely thrown off balance. Where did that one come from?! He was already down 25% of his health. His hands shook, mind racing. He had to make a decision. Fast.
Two seagulls advanced, eyes locked on him. His chances didn’t look good. Not good at all. Nope. Nope. Nope. He turned and bolted, heart pounding in his chest.
The shrieks followed him, but he didn’t dare look back. Run. Just run. He didn’t stop until he ducked beneath the safety of the pier. The seagulls didn’t follow, thankfully, and he finally allowed himself to breathe.
As the adrenaline faded, the sting of humiliation set in. He reviewed the fight in his mind, analyzing every misstep. What a disaster. The frozen hesitation, the clumsy swings—he’d made every rookie mistake possible. I panicked. I completely panicked.
He wandered to the other side of the pier and watched another beginner fighting a seagull. The battle was slow, and every attack was obvious and easy to predict. He couldn’t believe how easy it looked. How had I messed up that badly?
Deckard let out a long sigh, his confidence from earlier all but gone. Maybe social skills weren’t really what Savvy had in mind when he had taunted him, but his fighting skills. Savvy, despite being a professional gamer, was also well-built and had a black belt in karate. As for Deckard, he wasn’t just a bad fighter—he was terrible. His body simply refused to cooperate when it came to physical confrontation. It’s like, after all those years of being a punching bag… nothing’s changed.
With a resigned shake, he turned back to the water. He had to find a way around this. In the meantime, he would just tackle the quest. Hopefully, the starfish didn’t fight back.
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