Chapter 28. The Dry Spell
I sat there in the warm, fire-lit tavern, staring at the flickering blue box in my vision like it owed me rent.
Mission Title: Freya Mikaelson
Primary Objective: Unknown
That was it. Just her name, glowing in cold system-blue like some celestial punchline. No instructions. No directions. No ticking timer. Just another cryptic breadcrumb from the invisible hand that puppeteered this game I called a life.
I leaned back in the chair, fingers lightly tapping the edge of the tankard in front of me. Empty now. I'd already drained the ale. Wasn't half bad either. Little fruity. Little kick. But even that buzz had worn off, replaced by something far more sobering.
The mission could mean anything.
Protect her. Follow her. Kill her. Marry her. Save her cat.
If she even had a cat.
My stomach turned, but not from the stew. The Admin, whoever or whatever that smug bastard was, once said that the system didn't always distinguish between what I wanted, what I needed, and what was just randomly generated chaos.
So the fact I'd argued with her once or twice, or thought she carried herself like a particularly uptight juggernaut in armor, didn't mean jack. The mission could be about forging some kind of alliance… or drawing my sword across her throat.
There was literally no way to know.
"Great," I muttered. "What a fun little mystery box you've given me, system."
There was nothing else to do now. I wasn't about to follow her out into the city like some stalker. That would lead to nothing but trouble and probably a broken jaw. Or neck.
Nope.
For now, the best thing I could do… was wait.
I stood from the table and stretched, ignoring the creak in my knees. After four weeks of nonstop training, meditation had gone from being a luxury to a necessity. I'd learned to regulate the Ki flow better, channel it, even isolate it through my limbs like turning valves in a pipe.
Still sluggish. Still small. Still nothing compared to the bottomless oceans I knew I'd need in the future. But it was progress.
I headed upstairs toward my room. The inn was quieter than usual tonight. Erik was still down by the counter muttering to himself about spoiled children and stubborn daughters, but I didn't bother with goodnights.
My room was cool and dim. The light crystals embedded in the ceiling flickered softly. Magic tech. Expensive stuff, even if it looked outdated by Earth standards. There was a strange charm to it.
I sat on the carpet and crossed my legs, slipping into the now-familiar lotus position.
Deep breath in.
Hold.
Exhale slow.
And again.
I guided the Ki slowly, deliberately, letting it loop through the meridian pathways I'd slowly started to recognize in my body. The flow was smoother now, less like dragging tar and more like pushing syrup.
I was learning. My body was learning.
The thought struck me again as I focused: I had adapted far too quickly to all of this. Sleeping in trees. Killing goblins. Lying like a seasoned thief. Watching people die and not feeling a damn thing.
Something inside me had changed.
Was still changing.
And now the system wanted me to get tangled up with the most dangerous woman I'd met in this world so far, Freya Mikaelson, the human freight train with eyes like daggers and a sword that could probably slice me in half before I could blink.
As the meditation wore on, my mind drifted to the stars I'd seen that night in the courtyard. The moons, three of them, hung differently in the sky each evening. Their soft light cast different hues on the world depending on which one was at its peak.
Tonight, it was the smallest, pale gold, like a coin held up to firelight. The people called it Lurien, after some god of judgment.
Fitting.
I laid back on the bed eventually, letting the system fade from my mind.
Thirty-hour days were still a nightmare to get used to. You wouldn't think six extra hours would mess you up this bad, but sleep never hit the same. I could nap, doze, black out from exhaustion… but a good, clean, eight-hour sleep?
Yeah. That was fantasy.
I let the weight of the day press down over me like a blanket. Training was over. The body was forged. The tools were acquired.
Now, something else was coming. I didn't know what yet… but I could feel the story shift.
Tomorrow, I told myself.
Tomorrow, I find out what the hell this new mission really means.
---
Morning came like a slap to the face.
I blinked up at the ceiling, groggy and sore all over, my body stiff from the days of relentless training. But the real bastard this morning was the same one from yesterday and the day before that.
"Goddamn morning wood," I muttered, dragging a hand down my face. "Every. Single. Morning."
I shifted under the blanket and groaned. I was kind of going through a dry spell. There was no hiding from it. I hadn't had so much as a kiss since I woke up in this world. Not a brothel in sight in this uptight city, and no way I was sticking my dick into whatever shady alley operation passed for adult services here. Even my imagination was starting to feel second-hand.
So yeah. Another day, another solo mission. No glory. No gratitude. Just frustration.
Once that unfortunate chapter was closed, I sat up, pulled on my clothes, and started checking my funds and gear. Four quests during training netted me a nice 5,000 Pele. Not bad. But not great either when you burn through it as fast as I do. After paying rent twice more at 2,000 total, I was down to two nights left at the inn. Food and baths included. The essentials.
The leather armor the innkeeper had lent me was holding up fine, and while my blade wasn't top-tier, it would hold… for now. I'd spent the rest of the gold on healing potions, ten of them, just in case.
Permit-wise, I'd already renewed my temporary residence status with the guards for another month, like the gate guard had originally told me I'd need to. Cost me some coins and a signature, but it bought me time.
New week, new quest. Time to maintain my guild membership.
I headed out toward the Adventurer's Guild. The streets were already buzzing with life, vendors shouting, wagons rumbling, and the stink of horses mixing with the scent of fresh bread. The usual. Torak had that blend of medieval grime and early 20th-century bustle. Kind of charming. If you ignored the whole demi-humans-in-chains part. It wasn't just demi-humans in chains though. I felt I needed to make that pretty clear. The elves were the only race missing. Typical.
I reached the guild and stepped inside. Same towering hall. Same buzzing tavern. Same intimidating wall of quests. And behind the counter, there she was.
Gwen.
The red-haired receptionist who registered me weeks ago. Sharp eyes. Wicked smile. Still stunning.
I sauntered up to her, leaning casually against the desk. "Well well, if it isn't the only woman in this city who doesn't think I'm an idiot."
She smirked. "You're early. Thought you'd sleep in after that training bender."
"I was planning to," I said. "But then I remembered I need to survive in this crazy-ass world. Thought maybe you'd have a quest that doesn't involve me being eaten alive by mutant forest lizards."
Gwen laughed. "So, the rookie learned restraint. Color me impressed."
We bantered for a bit, harmless flirting on the surface but in my head, I was already setting a goal. Operation: Lose V-card. If I was going to break my drought in this world, Gwen was definitely Plan A. Of course, I didn't say any of that out loud. I just asked, "Any chance you'd grab a drink with me later? Say… after the shift?"
She raised an eyebrow. "That so? Hm. Sure. Tavern here's open late. I'll meet you there."
Bingo. First win of the day.
But before I could savor the small victory, I felt something more like someone, slam into me from the side.
"What the hell?" I stumbled, catching myself on the desk.
And then I saw her.
Goddamn Freya Mikaelson. Towering. Glowing. Armored up like the White Knight of Passive Aggression. If armor could glare, hers just did.
"You're really starting to get on my nerves," I said.
She didn't even flinch. "I've got more important things, rookie."
Rookie. Ugh. She turned away from me like I was a gnat and looked straight at Gwen.
"Did the orders come in for the Eldemere update?"
Gwen gave a polite nod. "Not yet. But Freya… the City Lord raised the rank again. You can't go."
Freya's expression froze. "What?"
"The quest's been bumped to A-Rank," Gwen explained. "Scouts returned last night. Eldemere's officially categorized as a Silver-Class Magic Forest. Magic beasts, creatures., everything's growing. The new quest is full subjugation. You'd need to be in a party with B-Ranks or higher."
"But…" Freya started.
"You don't qualify alone," Gwen said. "Not at your rank."
Freya's eyes narrowed like someone had spit in her food. Then, without another word, she spun around and stormed out of the guild like a hurricane in full plate.
And just like that, ding, the notification.
**---**
[Mission 2 Update]
Title: Freya Mikaelson
Primary Objective: Keep Freya Mikaelson alive for 90 hours.
Secondary Objective: Kill 10 magic beasts within a one hour period.
Reward: Lesser Leather Armor
Bonus Reward: 10x Greater Healing Potions
Failure Condition: If Freya dies, the mission fails. If the mission fails, so do you.
Timer will begin upon acceptance.
**---**
I blinked. Stared. Read it again.
Ninety hours. That's three full days.
"So I guess that means something's coming…" I muttered under my breath. Either I was following her into Eldemere… or something from Eldemere was coming here.
This was no coincidence. The system was many things, unclear, vague, borderline psychotic but never wrong. At least I hoped not.
I sighed and looked toward the door she had stormed out through.
"Well, Freya Mikaelson… looks like we're not done."