The world is no longer black. That's the first thought that cuts through my hazy mind. Through my new skill, Night Vision, the sewers are a monochrome landscape of deep grays and ghostly whites. I can see the cracks in the stone, the slow crawl of slugs on the damp walls, the mangled shape of the Alpha's corpse at my feet. It is a terrifying and beautiful gift.
My body is a battlefield. The energy from the Alpha's core has sealed my worst wounds, but it hasn't erased the pain. My shoulder, though back in its socket, is stiff and tender. Every muscle in my body protests, bruised and battered from the fight.
Name: Reinhardt Valdios
Level: 2
Experience: 147/150
Status: Fatigued
HP: 40/40
MP: 10/10
Skill (Passive): Night Vision (Low)
Fatigued. The word is an understatement. I am exhausted to the bone. But I am three experience points away from Level 3. Three miserable points. The temptation to hunt one last Shadow Rat is immense, but I know it's madness. In my current state, the slightest mistake would be fatal.
I have to go back up.
The return journey is an ordeal. I lean heavily on my iron pipe, each step sending bolts of pain through my body. My clothes are in tatters, caked with blood and the filth of the sewers. I look like a creature that has crawled out of its own grave.
Thanks to my night vision, the climb is safer. I can see obstacles, avoid unstable passages. I slip out of the alley just before the first glimmers of dawn paint the sky gray.
Getting back into the barracks is the greatest challenge. I move like a shadow, hugging the walls, praying the night guards are too weary to notice a furtive figure. I reach the barracks unseen and collapse onto my straw pallet, my heart pounding. My body screams for rest, but I know that in less than an hour, the bell will sound for wake-up.
When it rings, it feels like a hammer blow to my skull. I force myself to stand. The other servants cast curious glances my way. My shirt is torn, and despite my efforts to clean myself, dark stains remain.
"Get in a fight with a rabid cat, Valdios?" one of the older workers jabs.
"Fell in a ditch last night," I lie, my voice hoarse. It's a lame excuse, but no one cares enough to ask more questions.
The workday is hell. My "Fatigued" status makes every task doubly difficult. But there's a difference. Beneath the exhaustion, I can feel the underlying strength of my Level 2. I carry the water buckets with a grimace of pain, but I don't stumble. My muscles hold.
The quartermaster gives me a suspicious look. "You look like you spent the night in hell, but you're doing the work of two men. What are you hiding?"
"Nothing, Quartermaster. Just the fear of losing my job."
He grunts but leaves me be. He doesn't care about my secrets as long as the work gets done. It's the only rule that matters at our level.
Mid-morning brings the torment I was dreading. Caelan Burix and his cronies find me near the stables. His gaze lingers on my ragged appearance, and a nasty smile spreads across his lips.
"Looks like someone slept poorly," he says, his voice oozing false compassion. "It's not easy, the life of vermin, is it? Always crawling around in the dirt."
I don't answer, continuing to sweep the manure.
"You were lucky yesterday," he continues, stepping closer. "The Holy Knight played the savior. But she won't always be there to protect you." He lowers his voice so only his friends and I can hear. "And the next time you get in my way, I won't settle for a few bruises. I'll break your legs. Slowly."
The threat is real. I can feel it in the air, cold and heavy. He's waiting for a reaction, a sign of fear. I give him what he wants. I lower my head, my body shrinking as small as possible.
Satisfied, he changes his tone. "Since you seem so full of energy today, I have a special task for you. The floor of the grand training hall needs to be polished. I want to see my reflection in it for the midday inspection."
I look up, shocked. The grand training hall is immense. Polishing the stone floor by hand would take a team of three men a full day. To do it alone in less than two hours is impossible. It's a punishment designed to make me fail, to give him a legitimate reason to have me whipped for incompetence.
"But, Sir... that's..."
"That's an order," he cuts me off. "Now, get to it."
He walks away, laughing with his friends. I stand there, broom in hand, a sense of helplessness washing over me. My level, my new skill... none of it matters in the face of this kind of cruelty. The system of this world isn't just made of levels and skills. It's made of social power, family names, and hierarchy. And in that game, I am at the very bottom.
I get to work, my heart heavy. I kneel on the cold stones with a bucket of water and a block of wax. I scrub. The motion is exhausting. My shoulder throbs. My body screams with every pass. The surface I have to cover seems to stretch on forever.
After an hour, I've only covered a small fraction of the hall, and I'm already soaked in sweat, my status shifting from "Fatigued" to "Exhausted." It's hopeless.
That's when a shadow falls over me. I look up, expecting to see Caelan, come to mock my slow progress.
But it's Roxis Heart.
She stands there in her training gear, a sword in hand. She isn't looking at Caelan. She's looking at me, kneeling on the floor. Her expression is neutral, but I see a flicker of understanding in her eyes. She knows what's happening.
She says nothing. She reprimands no one. She simply begins her training routine at the far end of the hall. The movements of her sword are fluid, precise, deadly. Every lunge, every parry is a work of art.
Her presence changes everything. Caelan and his friends, who had settled on a bench to enjoy the spectacle of my humiliation, become uncomfortable. Preening in front of a Holy Knight while she trains is a grave breach of etiquette. They eventually get up and leave the hall in silence.
Roxis doesn't spare me a glance. She continues her katas, her steady breathing the only sound in the vast hall, along with the scrape of my cloth on the stone.
She didn't save me directly. She didn't cancel the order. But she gave me something just as precious: a respite. A bubble of silence in which I could work without being harassed. And she showed me, with her mere presence, that I was not completely invisible.
I know I won't finish in time. But now, it no longer matters. I scrub the stone, no longer out of fear of punishment, but out of respect for the silent sanctuary she has created for me.
When the time for inspection arrives, I have only polished a quarter of the hall. But that quarter is impeccable. It shines like a dark mirror.
The officer on duty arrives, accompanied by a triumphant-looking Caelan. His smile vanishes when he sees Roxis, still training.
The officer frowns at the unfinished work. "What is the meaning of this, Valdios?"
Before I can answer, Roxis stops, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow. "It's my fault, Captain," she says in a calm voice. "I requisitioned this worker for an urgent task this morning. He didn't have time to finish here. I take full responsibility."
The officer, Caelan, and I all stare at her, stunned.
The Captain, faced with a Holy Knight, can only bow. "Very well, Lady Heart. If that's the case... Valdios, return to your regular duties."
Caelan gives me a look so venomous it could have killed a weaker man. He has lost. Twice. And because of the same person.
As I leave the hall, my heart pounding with gratitude, Roxis calls out to me.
"Reinhardt."
I turn back.
"Next time, try using wider strokes," she says, demonstrating a sweeping motion with her hand. "You'll save your energy. You work hard, but you also have to work smart."
I nod, unable to speak.
I walk away, Roxis's purse heavy in my pocket. She's right. Brute force and hard work are not enough. I have to be smarter.
I feel the coins through the fabric. This money is no longer for food. It's an investment. An investment in my future. My iron pipe reached its limit against the Alpha. It's time to equip myself. It's time to buy a real weapon. Not a knight's sword—I could never afford one or have the right to carry it. But a dagger. Or a hunting knife. Something fast, quiet, and lethal.
Tonight, I won't go hunting to survive or to level up. I'm going to get supplies. And for that, I need real teeth.