The kitchen of The Grinning Griffin was a culinary hellscape. It was a cramped, stone-walled room, thick with a permanent haze of grease smoke and steam that clung to everything with a damp, sticky film. The air was a battleground of smells: the sharp tang of onions, the rich aroma of roasting meat, the sour scent of spilled ale, and the ever-present, acrid smell of Borin's simmering rage.
And Borin himself was a masterpiece of fury. He was a compact keg of a man, his bald head perpetually gleaming with sweat. His chef's whites were stained with sauces and soot, and he moved with the aggressive, jerky energy of a cornerd badger.
He didn't speak to me when I entered. He just pointed a thick, sausage-like finger at the mountain of dishes. The nail was grimy, and the fingertip glowed with a faint, orange heat, like a dying ember.
"You," he grunted, his voice a low rumble. "Scrub. Don't break anything. Don't get in my way. Don't breathe too loud."
"Got it," I said, trying for cheerful but landing somewhere near *hostage negotiating for her life.* "Scrub, don't break, stay quiet, minimal respiration. I can do that."
He just glared at me, then turned back to a slab of meat on a cutting board. He didn't reach for a tenderizer. He just made a fist, which began to glow ominously. He slammed it down onto the meat, and with a sizzle and a puff of smoke, the steak was perfectly flattened.
'Okay, so 'don't get on his bad side' was the understatement of the century.'
I turned to my new nemesis: the sink. It was less a sink and more a stone trough filled with murky, lukewarm water and floating bits of… well, it was better not to identify them. The dishes were a combination of wooden trenchers, pewter plates, and a few terrifyingly heavy cast-iron pots that looked like they'd been used to cook a whole boar.
I grabbed the first plate, a wooden one smeared with some kind of gravy that had congealed into a stubborn, brown lacquer. There was a rough brick of lye soap and a bundle of stif bristles that was generously being called a brush. I plunged my hands into the greasy water and began to scrub.
The work was brutal, my back ached within minutes and my gamer-soft hands, accustomed to the gentle click of a mouse and the smooth plastic of a controller, were quickly turning red and raw. The grime was relentless. But as I scrubbed away, a tiny, familiar *ding* sounded in my head.
[ You have cleaned 1 wooden trencher. +0.01 XP.]
I paused, suds dripping from my elbow. I stared at the plate in my hand, then at the mountain of filth still waiting for me. I did a quick, rough count. There had to be hundreds of dishes here.
A slow, manic grin spread across my face.
'This isn't just dishwashing' I thought, a hysterical giggle bubbling in my chest. 'This is a dungeon crawl. This is grinding. I am farming these dishes for XP.'
My entire perspective shifted. The greasy water was a swamp I had to wade through. The caked-on food was the armor of my enemies. Borin, who was now setting a pot of stew to boil by just glaring at it until it bubbled, was the final boss I had to avoid angering.
My movements became more efficient, more practiced. I fell into the familiar, hypnotic rhythm of the grind that had defined my previous life. Scrub, rinse, stack. Scrub, rinse, stack.
*Ding.* `+0.01 XP.`
*Ding.* `+0.01 XP.`
*Ding.* `+0.02 XP.` (That was for a particularly stubborn pewter goblet.)
Hours melted away. My muscles screamed in protest, a chorus of tiny agonies from my shoulders to my calves. My fingers were stiff and my nails were wrecked. But the pile of dirty dishes shrank, and the stacks of clean ones grew. And with every *ding*, no matter how small, my resolve hardened. This was progress. It was ugly, painful, and smelled like old stew, but it was progress.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I placed the last heavy pot on the drying rack. It was done. Finally, FINALLY, done. I leaned against the stone wall, my entire body trembling with exhaustion, but my mind was buzzing. I'd earned a grand total of 4.78 XP. It was pathetic, but it was mine.
"Hmph."
I looked over. Borin was inspecting my work, running a glowing finger over a plate. I held my breath, expecting him to incinerate it... and possibly me, for some perceived flaw.
"Not terrible," he grunted, the highest form of praise I was likely to ever receive from him. "For a scrawny twig. Don't get cocky. There'll be more tomorrow."
He tossed a damp rag in my direction. "Wipe down the counters. Then get out. Elara left a plate for you at the bar."
I managed a weak nod and set to work wipping down the massive wooden prep tables. He watched me for a moment longer before turning his attention back to his bubbling cauldron of stew, his work seemingly never done.
Pushing back through the swinging door was like entering another world. The main tavern was quieter now, with only a few patrons lingering over their last drinks. The bard was gone, and the air was thick with the comfortable, sleepy atmosphere of closing time.
Elara was behind the bar, wiping it down with a clean cloth. She looked up as I emerged from the kitchen, looking like a drowned rat that had lost a fight with a grease trap.
She gave a low whistle. "Look what the cat dragged in... and then threw back. You survived Borin."
"Only by luck," I croaked, my throat dry. I slid onto a stool, my legs feeling like overcooked noodles. "I think he tried to communicate with me through a series of increasingly hostile grunts."
A rare smile touched the corner of her mouth. "That's him on a good day. He likes you."
"He *likes* me? What does he do to people he dislikes? Spontaneously combust them?"
"Only on special occasions," she said, her tone dry. She pushed a bowl of steaming stew and a thick hunk of dark bread across the bar to me. "Eat. You earned it."
The smell alone was enough to make my stomach roar. It was a rich, savory beef stew, thick with potatoes and carrots. I grabbed the spoon with a hand that was still shaking slightly and took my first bite.
It was heaven.
Pure, unadulterated, soul-healing heaven. It was the best thing I had ever tasted. After days of stale crackers, this was a feast for the gods. I devoured it, barely stopping to breathe, sopping up the last of the gravy with the bread.
Elara watched me, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. "First real meal in a while?"
I swallowed the last bite and nodded, my cheeks flushing. "You have no idea."
"You're not from around here, are you?" she asked, her voice casual, but her eyes were sharp, observant. "Your accent is… strange. And you look at everything like you've never seen it before."
My heart hammered against my ribs. 'Rule number one: Don't tell anyone.'
"I'm from… far away," I said, choosing my words carefully. "A small, isolated village. Up in the mountains. We, uh, didn't get out much." It was a flimsy lie, but it was the best I could come up with.
She seemed to accept it, or at least, she didn't press. "Explains why you look like you've never done a day's hard labor in your life." She leaned her formidable forearms on the bar. "So, a mountain girl comes to the big city of Oakhaven. What for? Looking to make your fortune?"
"Something like that," I admitted. "I heard there's a university here. For… what you do." I gestured vaguely. "The elements."
Elara's expression hardened slightly. "The Elemental Powers public university. EP. Anyone can apply, provided they can show an affinity. It's a long shot for most. Most people are born Mono-Elements, like Borin with his fire or me with my earth. We can strengthen what we have, but we can't learn new elements. The university is for the lucky few born with the potential for more."
"So you're an Earth-Element user?" I asked, genuinely curious.
She nodded, picking up a small, chipped stone from behind the bar. She rolled it between her thumb and forefinger, and I watched, fascinated, as the chip slowly filled in, the stone becoming perfectly smooth and whole again. She placed it back on the bar without ceremony.
"It's useful for fixing things. Mugs, plates, the odd cracked foundation. Not as flashy as fire or lightning, but it keeps the tavern standing."
"And the university… what do they teach?"
"How to not blow yourself up, mostly," she said with a wry grin. "Control. Power. They take the Duals and the rare Tria-born and turn them into weapons for the kingdom. Mages, battle-masters, Royal guards. The best of the best, the ones who show real promise get an invitation to the Royal University in the capital. That's where the real power is."
A young man with a mop of sandy blond hair and a perpetually cheerful grin came over, gathering empty mugs. "Don't let her scare you off," he said to me. "Elara's just grumpy because a Mono-Air tried to pay his tab by 'blowing good fortune' her way."
"He blew three of my good mugs off the shelf, Leo," Elara growled, but there was no real heat in it. "That's what he blew."
Leo winked at me. "I'm Leo. Welcome to the madhouse. You must be the new dishwasher. You've already lasted three hours longer than the last one."
"Maddox," I said, managing a small smile. "Nice to meet you."
"Maddox," Elara repeated, testing the name on her tongue. "Well, Maddox, my advice is to forget the university. It's a dream that breaks more people than it makes. A steady job, a roof over your head… there are worse things in life."
She was probably right. But she didn't know about my System. She didn't know about my quest. For me, it wasn't just a dream. It was the main storyline.
"Thanks for the advice," I said sincerely. "And for the food. It was amazing."
"Borin's a demon in the kitchen, but he's a god with a stew pot," Leo chirped. "Your room is up the stairs and to the left. It's not much, but it's dry."
I thanked them both and pushed myself off the stool, my body groaning in protest. Every muscle was screaming. I climbed the creaky wooden stairs at the back of the tavern, my legs feeling like lead.
The attic was exactly what you'd expect. A small, low-ceilinged space under the eaves, smelling of dust and old wood. There was a single, small, grimy window looking out over the darkened rooftops of Oakhaven. My bed was a simple straw-stuffed mattress on the floor with a couple of threadbare blankets.
It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
I collapsed onto the mattress, not even bothering to take off my boots. I was safe. I had a job. I had a place to sleep. I had a full stomach. And I had leveled up.
With a thought, I pulled up my System interface, the crisp blue screen a welcome, futuristic sight in the dusty, medieval room.
[Name: Maddox Olivia Morgan
Level: 2
Title: The Outsider
Status: Fatigued
Attributes:
Strength: 5
Dexterity: 6
Constitution: 5
Intelligence: 8
Wisdom: 7
Charisma: 7
Unspent Attribute Points: 5
Unspent Skill Points: 1
Five whole points. It felt like a fortune. I thought back to the cast-iron pots that nearly dislocated my shoulder and the bone-deep weariness I felt. The choice was obvious.
'Okay, System. Let's do this.'
I mentally focused on the attribute screen.
[ Distribute Attribute Points?]
Strength: 5 [+]
Constitution: 5 [+]
My immediate problems were physical. I needed to be able to do my job without feeling like I was going to die. Intelligence and Wisdom could wait until I was actually trying to learn magic. For now, I needed to survive the grind.
I put two points into Strength and three into Constitution.
[Confirm Allocation?]
Strength: 5 -> 7
Constitution: 5 -> 8
I confirmed it and a warm, invigorating energy flooded my body. It wasn't a sudden dramatic change, but a deeply soothing sensation. The profound ache in my muscles lessend, replaced by a dull throb. The trembling in my hands ceased. I sat up, flexing my fingers. I still felt tired, but it was the normal, end-of-a-long-day tired, not the 'I might have internal bleeding' tired from before.
"Holy crap," I whispered to the empty room. It worked. It actually worked.
Next, the skill point. This was more permanent, more important. I pulled up the skill menu.
[Spend Skill Point (1)?]
[ Available Skill Trees: [General], [Combat], [Magic] (Locked), [Stealth]... ]
I focused on the `[General]` tree, as the others seemed a bit ambitious for a dishwasher. A short list of available Tier 1 skills appeared.
[Lesser Physical Endurance] (Passive): Reduces stamina drain from physical labor by 10%. Makes you slightly more resilient to fatigue.
[Basic Haggling] (Active): When enabled, gives you a small chance to receive a better price when bartering with merchants. May annoy the merchant.
[Quick Clean] (Active): Once per day, allows you to clean a small area with surprising speed and efficiency. Duration: 1 minute.
The choice was, again, ridiculously easy. `[Quick Clean]` was tempting for the sheer comedic value of speed-washing a pot, but `[Lesser Physical Endurance]` was an investment in my ability to keep grinding.
I selected it.
[ Skill Learned: [Lesser Physical Endurance]! ]
The warm feeling returned, settling deeper into my bones. It felt like I'd just had a full night's sleep and a strong cup of coffee.
I lay back on the straw mattress, a genuine, giddy smile on my face. This was real. I could quantify my own improvement. I could see the path forward, paved with dirty dishes and tiny XP gains.
Just as I was about to close my eyes and let sleep take me, one final notification popped up, its blue light soft in the darkness.
[ Condition Met: First Full Day in XE-734 Completed.]
[ Tutorial Quest Chain Initiated.]
[ New Quest Received!]
Elemental Awakening
Objective: The System cannot create power from nothing. To unlock your first elemental affinity, you must first establish a connection. Make sustained, meaningful contact with a raw, powerful source of an element.
Possible Sources: A blacksmith's forge (Fire), a flowing river (Water), a deep cave (Earth), a storm-swept peak (Air).
Reward: Unlocks First Elemental Affinity, 100 XP.
**Warning:** Direct contact with powerful elemental sources can be dangerous for a User with no affinities. Proceed with caution.
I stared at the notification, my exhaustion completely forgotten. My path forward had just become crystal clear. I worked in a tavern with a Mono-Fire cook who treated his stove like a personal extension of his soul.
I was going to touch Borin's stove. And I had a feeling he wasn't going to like that one bit.