The city of Riverlark didn't have much going on. The chief exports seed to be vegetables and boredom. The main road went from the castle gates directly out of town, Francis figured it had the right idea.
The brass had briefly stationed Francis in Germany before thinking better of it. Apparently the Germans complained. Riverlark reminded him of a tourist trap there nad Rothenburg. It had the sa cobblestone streets and stone buildings. He hated Rothenburg.
“So, Francis. What brings you to the city?” Chuck asked as they rode out towards the dark forest.
“Long story short, I was gonna watch so fireworks when I got my ass spirited away. Now I'm stuck here in this place until I can find a way out. Then an old man told about the Adventure Guild and I said fuck it, why not? It beats being a civilian.” Francis explained.
“Oh, you got isekaied. My first owner was a portal hopper. Cool guy. His na was Chuck too. He was eaten by wolves.” Chuck plodded forward into the night and the certain doom that awaited him. He had a sneaking suspicion he would be reunited with his forr owner very soon. Going into the Dark Forest at night was an incredibly stupid way to die.
Off in the distance a wolf howled. The road ran directly to the forest and was surrounded by open fields to either side. Chuck knew if the pack attacked them, there was no way they would be able to escape.
But the wolves were the least of his worries. The highwayn to either side of the road took priority. Four of them leveled crossbows at Francis and fired. It should have been an easy shot. But Francis' 11 Deflect made the bolts bounce off him like nerf darts.
“Hey, are you assholes, the ‘rry Highwayn of the Moor’ or soone else?” Francis shouted out into the dark. He had so unwanted words stuck in his head, and he wanted to get rid of them.
After four more bolts careened off him harmlessly a voice called out. “Who's asking?”
“My na's Francis.” He hopped off the horse and started walking towards the four n. They were a scruffy bunch. “The Adventure Guild says they'll pay five gold for each one of you I kill. I'm willing to hear a counter offer.”
“Wait, are you robbing us?” A lanky man in leather armor asked.
“Yeah.” Francis replied. “I figure so new group will just take your territory if I kill you. So how is this? If you pay ten gold each, I'll let you go.”
The man considered this. “We don't have forty gold.”
Francis tapped his staff on the ground to stop it from trying to make him beco one with the universe again. Sparks flew as it hit the stone road. “Well, how much do you have?”
“About ten gold.” The highwayman said.
“Ok, so let ask you this. How much health do you have?” Francis pointed with his staff, then so math had to happen.
He was ten ters away from the furthest of the four n. He wanted to do a hundred damage to each of them. That ant he had to spend 410 MP.
The night briefly beca day and a notification jamd itself into Francis' brain.
Congratulations! You have successfully defeated the four rry Highwayn of the Moor.
Visit the local Adventure Guild to collect your bounty.
Chuck looked at the devastation. He'd never seen anything like that before. “So, Francis. If you don't mind asking, what level are you?”
“System says I'm Level 30.” Francis started looting the bodies. He wanted his ten gold pieces.
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It was amazing how his Observation skill told him where all the good stuff was hiding. Eventually he struck pay dirt. One of the n had a black silk bag that his Arcane skill identified as magical. “Well, would you look at that?”
His eye twitched as System jamd more text into his mind.
You have found 4 Steel Daggers
You have found 4 Crossbows
You have found 40 Crossbow Bolts
You have found 36 Gold, 20 silver, and 15 copper.
You have found a magic item: Bag of Hoarding
Bag of Hoarding can hold up to 100 kg of items. It currently holds 30 kg of items. Would you like to link it to your inventory?
YES/NO
Francis selected YES to see what would happen. He instantly beca aware of the bag’s contents and how to retrieve them. There was so heavy cookware, a bedroll, hardtack, five torches, and twenty ters of rope.
He felt his eye twitch again. Sothing was very wrong about this place. This new world had a distinctly European feel to it and he needed to know how deep the rot went. “Chuck, how far have we traveled since we left the city?”
“Oh, I'd say about ten kiloters.” Chuck replied. “My navigation tells we are about thirty kiloters away from our destination. So we are one fourth of the way there.”
“Do you happen to know of any other units of distance?” Francis asked, hoping against hope there was a switch he could flip to get back to good old fashioned freedom units.
“Well, there are ters, centiters, and milliters. But it would be silly to use them on such large distances.” Chuck let out a whiny of laughter, but Francis didn't see what was so funny.
“That damn System has done wrong again!” He shook his fist at nothing in particular. “I swear, you give System 2.54 centiters and they take 1.6 kiloters. Wait… that’s not right.”
“That motherfucker just made speak in tric!” Francis scread as he realized he also had been corrupted by System. He was going to make sure he got his 453.6 grams of flesh the next ti they t, even if he had to cut it off with a knife.
Ah, fuck… I'm thinking in tric too now. Like so kind of European, or a Brit under the age of twenty, Francis thought. He was used to having to do shit in decimals instead of fractions, but he only put up with it because he usually got to kill sothing afterward.
It was one thing to convert units back and forth in his head. It was sothing else entirely to think in tric. In Francis’ world, tric was only worth using for three things: Guns, Drugs, and Fuck-Tons. Anything else was just taking the easy way out.
Off in the distance a wolf howled. Francis pointed his staff at the source of the noise and vented his aggression. A few seconds and 1100 MP later he got an alert that made him want to cry.
Congratulations! You have successfully defeated Steel Fang, the dire wolf. Visit the local Adventure Guild to collect your bounty.
Steel Fang was 1.2 kiloters away.
The local temperature is 20° Celsius.
You weigh exactly 150 kg.
You are exactly 2 ters tall.
PS: I made you 0.133 ters shorter. Don’t make round sothing else down.
Chuck watched as the most notorious dire wolf in the kingdom was vaporized. He had so additional questions for his new owner. But he decided to wait until Francis stopped swearing.
“So, Francis. Tell sothing, and be honest. Are you a god?” The horse asked.
“Yes.” Francis lied. He wasn't, but he had seen Ghostbusters. Francis didn't think the horse would shoot pink lightning at him if he said no, but he wasn't going to leave that up to chance.
“Ah, yes. That would explain a lot. Well, it seems you are indeed special, Francis. Maybe not special in the way I thought.” Chuck admitted, “But still very special. Tell , did you get any XP for killing that dire wolf?”
“No, I don't think so. Should I have?” Francis had a vague idea of what XP was from playing gas with the other grunts. He figured XP were a bit like tiny stickers that could be cashed in for cool things, like Pokemon cards, or new abilities.
“That's an interesting question. What level is your Attack: Magical Skill?” Chuck asked.
“Uh, 10 out of 10. Is that good?”
The horse laughed. “Well, yes. I'd say 10 out of 10 is very good.”
Feeling a bit better about himself, Francis stuffed his loot into the Bag of Hoarding and mounted up. He urged Chuck onward towards the Dark Forest. Francis didn't bother disposing of the bodies. That was what crows were for.
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