The town was called Breth.
I learned this by reading the sign at the gate.
Small victories matter.
The guard looked at me.
Then at the mud.
Then at the sword.
Then back at the mud.
"Rough morning?" he asked.
"That depends," I said. "Is being hunted by four brake-less trucks considered rough?"
He stared.
"You hit your head?"
"That remains under investigation."
He considered asking another question.
Decided against it.
He waved me through.
I suspect he did not want to fill out paperwork that included me.
No money. No map. And the sword.
That was my entire inventory.
I followed people who looked like they belonged somewhere. Eventually I found the guild. It was the building with the most people walking in like they had survived something and walking out like they were not sure they would again.
Inside smelled like sweat and optimism.
The receptionist had the expression of someone who had already seen everything twice.
I walked up.
"I would like to register as an adventurer."
She looked at my sleeves.
My mud.
The sword.
"Assessment first. Hand on this."
She placed a crystal on the counter.
I put my hand on it.
It flickered.
Spiked.
Dimmed.
Tried again.
Then settled into a thin blue-white pulse that looked apologetic.
She leaned closer.
"Arc affinity."
"That sounds impressive."
She wrote something down and angled it away from me.
The light shrank.
Very small.
Very quiet.
"Critically low."
I nodded thoughtfully.
"Okay. But critically low can also mean rare. Like undiscovered. Understudied. Possibly legendary."
"It does not."
"You don't know that."
"I do."
"What if it loops? Like the lower it gets the more unstable and powerful it becomes."
She stopped writing.
"It does not loop."
"Has anyone here ever had critically low before?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"They retired."
"That feels biased."
She slid the paper further away from me.
"Processing fee is three copper."
"I was in a pig pen this morning. I have mud and unresolved resentment."
"Starter credit then. Registration and one week of lodging. Debt repaid through quests."
"So I begin in debt."
"Everyone begins in debt."
"Except the hidden legendary cases."
She ignored that.
She handed me a card.
My name.
My rank.
Basic.
It meant it aggressively.
At the bottom was the number I now owed.
It did not look legendary.
The quest board was a wall of bad decisions.
Most of it was too dense to parse.
One at the bottom was readable.
Rat extermination.
Five copper.
F rank.
Rats.
Five copper.
I could defeat rats.
I took the quest with the confidence of a man who had never met a large rat.
The grain storage owner opened the door.
Wide man. Suspicious eyes.
"You're the exterminator."
"I am."
"Just you."
"I believe in efficiency."
He opened the back room.
I looked inside.
The rats looked back.
...
These were not wall rats.
These were negotiations.
Cat-sized.
Some dog-sized.
And in the back, positioned slightly higher than the others, one the size of a medium dog with a scar across its nose and the posture of something that had filed taxes.
They were not afraid.
They were evaluating.
"Those are not normal rats."
"Vein-touched." he said
"That was not in the quest description."
"Fine print."
"There was fine print?"
"Are you doing the job or not?"
The big one tilted its head slowly.
Like it was giving me time.
I drew the sword.
A faint blue-white line appeared.
One rat stepped back.
The big one did not.
"Okay."
I stepped inside.
They moved together.
Not chaotic.
Coordinated.
Three at my legs.
Two at my sword arm.
Others cut off the door.
I swung.
Missed.
WHAM.
Hit a crate. Grain exploded.
Something bit my ankle.
"OW—!"
I slipped. Grabbed a shelf.
The shelf detached from existence.
CRASH.
Grain everywhere.
Rats everywhere.
The big one still hadn't moved.
I got dragged down.
Pinned.
The big one approached.
Slow.
Climbed onto my chest.
Scarred nose. One eye cloudy. One sharp.
It looked at me calmly.
Then it bit my nose.
"GYAH—!"
—
White.
I appeared sitting.
I stayed sitting.
"It had a strategy."
Laughter.
Veyra was holding her stomach.
"The way it walked over—"
She couldn't finish.
"It delegated."
"And your nose—"
She lost it again.
"I died."
"Yes."
"From a rat."
"A very competent rat."
"It had a command structure."
"You lasted longer than the last three."
I went still.
"That quest has been taken before."
"Mm."
"And none cleared it."
"Correct."
"And you knew."
"Yes."
"And said nothing."
"I was curious."
...
"You are extremely lucky I cannot reach you."
"You're interesting."
"I do not want to be interesting."
"The show must go on."
"Stop saying that."
White.
Gone.
Back in the grain storage.
Same rats.
Same big one.
Already watching me.
"New plan."
I threw two grain sacks left.
Half chased movement.
Good.
Short swings. No panic.
Keep moving.
Straight for the big one.
Without it directing them, they were just teeth.
Forty minutes later...
Still alive.
I walked out covered in bite marks and grain.
"Done."
"You got the big one?"
"Yes."
"Three people failed that."
"I am aware."
He counted coins.
Three copper.
I stared.
"The quest said five."
"You made noise. Bad for the grain."
"...Bad for the grain?"
"Stress affects quality."
I opened my mouth.
Closed it.
Took the three copper.
Left.
I bought the cheapest food in Breth.
Two copper.
Sat on a step and ate.
A cat appeared.
Watched me.
I broke off a piece.
It took it.
Left without acknowledgment.
One copper left.
Debt waiting.
A goddess somewhere above who let me walk into a failed quest because she was curious.
Not angry.
Not sorry.
Just watching.
I thought about the rice triangle in my bag from a morning that belonged to someone else.
The street was loud.
Unfamiliar.
"Medieval poverty."
But something had shifted.
The first time I walked in... I died.
The second time... I didn't.
And I don't like what that implies.
Because if I can improve...
Then she's right.
And if she's right...
Then this isn't random.
It's progression.
...
And I really don't want this to be progression.