"Status."
Name: Frank Cristuado
Class: Artificer lvl. 5
Title: Arsonist
Health: 80/80
Mana: 5.5/130
Regen: 5.5 mana per minute
Str: 10
Dex: 8
Con: 10
Int: 13
Wis: 11
Cha: 10
Luc: 10
AP: 20
Skills: [Deduction lvl.1], [Appraisal lvl.1], [Arcane Crafting lvl.1], [1 Unselected Skill]
Spells: [Flames lvl.1], [Sparks lvl.1], [Shape Earth lvl.2], [3 Unselected Spells]
Traits: None
Frank glanced at this status and noticed a few things. He didn't gain any health or mana from leveling, and he seemed to get five 'AP' for every level. Focusing on the new stat revealed it to be attribute points.
Leaving his unclaimed spells and skill for another time, Frank took a seat on a dirt chair he willed into existence and thought about how he was going to allocate his stats. He could dump it all into wisdom and intelligence, but that would make him physically weak.
Specializing was the way to go, but this early on it could be the death of him. The fear of dying again prompted Frank to come up with a compromise of one-two-two. He would put one point into his constitution, two into intelligence, and two into wisdom at every level.
His other stats would suffer, but Frank imagined he would be able to make magic items that could circumvent that issue. Thus, adding four points into constitution brought him up from 80 health to 112. It was an increase of eight per point—not a lot, but better than nothing.
That left him with 16 points, eight for both intelligence and wisdom. With that, Frank was rocking 210 mana and had a regen rate of 9.5 mana per minute. "Now then...I wonder what this title entails." Frank thought to himself as he pressed on the title in his status.
[Arsonist: 10% bonus to fire-related attacks.]
10% was not a huge bonus, but once he got his damage numbers up the increase would be very welcomed. Looking up at the sky told Frank it would be dark soon, the light from overhead changed positions causing the shadows to lengthen. He would need proof of his task, which would take some time to gather. Frank snuffed the still burning fire and opened up the entrance of the mineshaft.
A massive pile of goblins lay sprawled out on the dirt. Some had marks on their throats: an obvious sign they choked to death from the lack of oxygen and the smoke. Frank was not prepared for the horror that awaited him on the other side of his dirt wall.
His body reacted before his mind could, Frank bent in half and emptied the contents of his stomach onto the floor in disgust. It was only now he realized what he had done. He killed a whole cave of these…creatures.
Sure they deserved it, probably, but Frank had never killed anything before. He felt dizzy and stumbled backward, landing on his butt. He took a moment, taking deep breaths. Frank tried his best to re-focus on the workload and managed to get once again find his feet under him.
He needed to be prepared for more of these kinds of things if he was to live in a world like this. There was no doubt that he could always sit back and be a crafter. Hell, it probably would be easy. His class allowed for at least that much, but then he would never truly be able to control his fate.
In a world like this, might equaled right. The strong, in any sense of the word, ruled those weaker. It was a truth even observed on Earth, which pained Frank the more he thought about how he lost the [Hero] class.
Undoubtedly, he could become strong without it. In fact, he didn't really need it. But in almost every story he had read, the [Hero] was always the strongest. The class provided things that made it a cinch for the main character to do what he wanted. It was something Frank desired, but the easy route had been taken by someone else and he would just have to make do.
Frank grit his teeth at that thought, "So what? I'll prove it to myself if anyone. This is MY story." Using renewed vigor, Frank began to work on the corpses, only gagging occasionally. He pulled each body out of the cave so he could begin looting them for all their valuables.
As he gathered their coins and weapons, Frank thought about his debt. It may have been forced onto him, but he intended on paying it back—even if he'd rather not. With the task at hand, Frank worked tirelessly. He created a giant hole in the ground and as he stripped each goblin and cut off their left ear, he threw them into the pit.
"It's always an ear. Why?" Frank asked himself, puzzled by the recurring 'trophy' that was used as proof for a kill.
The mass grave filled quickly as his hands made quick work of the mission. Roughly 30 minutes later, he was finally finished clearing out the entrance which only left the insides of the cave. Frank took a break and began sorting through his acquired treasures.
"Hmm let's see… 34 ears, six silver, 24 copper, 11 rusty daggers, 13 wooden spears, and 10 broken swords." The money and rusty daggers were what Frank had decided were the most valuable loot. Well, the rust more specifically was what Frank desired. He stashed the daggers outside the cave, keeping one on his person, and placed the coins in his pouch.
With the valuables hidden or on his person, Frank took a spear into his hand and slowly crept his way into the cave. It was dark, something that caused Frank to slow his steps further. He crouched down and waited for his eyes to adapt as best as they could before continuing to move again.
The mine was narrow, enough for at least two people of his size to walk side by side. Occasionally Frank could make out what looked to be wooden pillars, supports so the whole place wouldn't come crashing down.
He could just summon a bit of fire to see, but after killing a whole cave full with just that he was hesitant. Slowly, Frank passed entrances into branching paths all of which he ignored for now. It was probably a stupid idea, but given the amount of time that had passed Frank doubted any goblins remained alive.
It didn't take long, but eventually Frank reached the end of the mineshaft. He had to crouch as he seemed to have run out of space to stand. His eyes had adjusted enough that he could make out rough shapes and if the outlines of sleeping mats he saw were any indication, this was where the goblins slept.
[[Low Light Vision lvl. 1] acquired]
Instantly, as he gained the notification, the world became a touch brighter. He could see things in shades of gray which helped tremendously. Using his newly gained skill, Frank began to make short work of looting.
Frank eyed the 'room' as he gathered items and noted the lack of support pillars. This section seemed much rougher and after studying the walls for a bit he realized it had been constructed after the fact by the goblins.
It would explain the relatively shorter ceiling, and why it looked so uneven. "Do goblins usually do this kind of thing? Maybe there was a smart goblin among the pile of-" Frank held back another gag as he remembered the corpses. He forced the image back into a corner to be forgotten and resumed his slog.
From what Frank believed was the bedroom, he began a sweep for more bodies and goods by entering the offshoot paths. In the first one he entered he found it mostly empty save for a pickaxe which Frank would hide with his daggers.
Leaving the way he came, Frank explored the rest of the mine. He saw more goblins, who looked like they had clawed at their throats. At the sight of each one, Frank had to stop and calm himself. By the time he reached the last one, he felt sufficiently desensitized. His mind began to block out the sight. He just imagined they were sleeping, allowing Frank to carry on with his venture.
All of this netted him 11 more ears, and four more silver. The weapons were more wooden spears, in which he had no interest. There were also a few piles of what Frank believed to be iron ores but they proved to be too heavy for him to carry around.
He still had two more days, so he would return. The ore would be useful, of that Frank had no doubts. The only problem would be the ears. They would begin to rot and the thought of the smell had Frank rethinking his plans.
For now, he would abandon the mine. The next item that Frank would choose would make his life a lot easier. He hadn't chosen it because it lacked the utility he needed for the situation at hand. So while he did not need it now, it was something he would try to obtain next.
With his mind made up, Frank journeyed back to the town. The sun had set completely by the time he returned, so he broke into a jog to swiftly get to the barracks in hopes he could turn in his quest.
Luckily for Frank, Captain Whitmore was still at the barracks. As he entered his office, Frank held up the pile of ears. In response, Captain gaped and nodded his head. "Good job, you proved me wrong. I thought you would come running back or die." He pointed to a wooden box in the corner and commanded, "Place them there and return early next week."
Frank felt dismissed as the captain turned his attention away from him. Frank did as he was told but paused before he left asking the question on his mind. "Will I be getting paid?" The query prompted a chuckle from the man which brought a frown to Frank's lips.
"No. Gods no. You owe the duke quite the sum of money and will be working it off until you can pay it back, if ever." The captain after a moment gave Frank a look of pity which Frank hated.
"How much exactly do I owe? I wasn't told much, just that I had to pay back the nation for my summoning." Frank pleaded for more information, something he felt he was sorely lacking. For absolutely no reason it felt like the duke had it out for him. It was unprompted, much like his initial dislike of the man.
Recent actions though showed Frank, although unfounded initially, was completely valid now. The captain avoided Frank's gaze and quietly let slip how much exactly owned the duke. "2,000 gold with an interest rate of 65% every month…"
Even though he tried to be as quiet as possible, Frank still managed to hear exactly how much he owed. He took a deep breath and turned around trying not to show his scrunched-up face and the trembling of his lips.
"Th-Thank you for telling me. I will see you next week." Frank forced the words out, trying to keep his composure. While Frank walked the streets of the town, a place he still didn't know the name of, Frank thought about his next course of action carefully.
The sum he needed to pay was momentous, and it needed to be returned quickly before it got too out of hand. Debt could be crippling and it was something he refused to let ruin him. Ideas of quick money schemes began to flood his mind. One, in particular, stood out more than the others.
"I hope you like drug epidemics, shitbag, because that's what I'm going to give you."