Chapter 50: Into the Slums (Patreon)

World: MSS - Loading...

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Yousef was kind enough to lend us his carriage all the way to the slums.  Once again, I was content to look out the window.  This time, the images played the opposite away.  We escaped the large estates and were quickly greeted by houses with small gardens, then the apartments and inns.

“Lock, what are our plans?”  Kyrian was the first to break the silence.  “Do you truly mean to replace the Slum Lord?”

I thought carefully before answering.

“No.  All that stuff about the Slum Lord and politics, I don’t really understand it.  What I do know is that until everything comes together, we do need a place to stay.  If that’s the slums, then so it is.”

Kyrian sniffed.  “This Slum Lord sounds like a dictator.   A poor leader.  You would do a much better job.”

I ignored Kyrian’s musings.  “Skaris, what about you?”

He shrugged.  “One doessss not lay they’re eggssss insssside a beast’ssss lair.  Whether you want to or not, you and the Sssslum Lord cannot exssssisssst together.”

“Maybe we can coexist.”  I offered.

They both ignored me.

“Regardless, our first step is to grow stronger. That means we need to start hunting monsters.”

“We will need to register with the Adventurer’s Guild then.”  Kyrian explained.  “If I understand correctly, most of the dungeons around here are managed by the Guild.  We will need to be registered adventurers to make use of them.”

Once we got to the main part of the city, where the market was along with various buildings; I knocked on the wall separating the inside of the coach and the driver’s seat.

“Yassuh?”

“We’ll get off here.”

Promptly, we got off the coach.  Skaris and I immediately began stretching; for us warrior-types, that coach had been stuffy.  If Kyrian felt the same he didn’t show it.  I saw Skaris lift his nose to the air and sniff; we had gotten off at the busiest intersection and there were more than enough stalls with delectables on display.  I saw his eyes drift over to a stall selling a long flat piece of meat wrapped in what looked like a tortilla.

“Come on.”  I muttered to Skaris and Kyrian, forcing myself to walk away from the tantalizing smells.  

We were penniless as of yet.  

Technically I had 2000 gold that Yousef had generously lent us with no interest, but I wanted to use that to buy new equipment for us three.  With the 12,000 gold debt looming over our heads, we’d have to strap out belts tight for a while.  Atl least until we figured out a way to earn income.

For adventurers that meant hunting monsters.

I found that there was a spring in my steps.  Since coming to MSS, I’d killed more than enough monsters to last a lifetime but this was different.  I wasn’t going to be hunting monsters as a slave; desperately clawing my way to survival with the limited tools at my disposal.  Now I could register as a real adventurer and form a real party.

My footsteps led us to the Adventurer’s Guild building; I’d already marked where it was on the carriage ride to Yousef’s estate.

It was a large building with marbled white pillars surrounding it on all sides.  I saw the various inhabitants of this world, dressed in armor and holding weapons.  A female orc holding a bow and arrow, an unusual combination, speaking with animated hand gestures at a beastwoman who had her arms crossed in front of her and looked frustrated.  I saw a group of dwarves walking by, each of them holding a colossal weapon nearly three times their size except the last; he was dressed in the robes of a priest.

The building’s entrance was a pair of double-sided doors made entirely out of rock.  It had been sculpted with elaborate swirling designs and even my meager mana sense picked up hints of enchantments.  I made a careful show not to touch it and strode into the building, Kyrian and Skaris in tow.  

The inside reminded me of a nicer DMV, the first half was a hybrid between a cafe and a tavern.  Further in were the counters managed by guild employees; marked by a blue and white cap on top of their head.  Adventurers sat sporadically; either alone or in small groups.  

Then as one, they all turned to look at us.

Every single face.

I felt my fingers curl, missing the familiar weight of my sword and shield; they were in my Dimension Ring.  My heart began to hammer from my chest, the echoes reaching my head and turning into a migraine.  I tried to look everywhere and nowhere; trying to imagine the room as a photograph so that the instant that someone moved I could react.  

The closest enemy was human; he had rows of dagger attached to his waist and no doubt more hidden on his person.  I could take him first; he might end up stabbing me but I could draw his dagger thigh.  If I could just leave a cut, I could-

I shook my head.

God, I was so broken.

There was no need to imagine myself being attacked by adventurer in the Adventurer’s Guild building, in a civilized City.  This wasn’t the Samak Horde and I wasn’t a slave anymore.  I was overreacting.

I took a step towards the counter and heard someone whisper.

“Tch.  Slaves.  Disgusting.”  

Then he spat at my feet.

I froze and felt Skaris stiffen up beside me.

Slowly, I turned my head to look at him; trembling.

The human rogue looked back at me with defiance; his beady eyes glittering with playful countenance.  Now that I took a closer look at him, his nose was crooked like it had been broken multiple times and never set right.  He had a sharp chin and more calluses on his right hand then left; right handed then.

He must have mistaken my trembling for fear.  “What are you looking at, slave?”  

I absently touched the scar on my neck; signs that I had worn manacles for a time.  That was how he knew.

The rogue stood up and stepped up to me.  We were eye-level with one another.  

“You got a problem?”  He muttered, inches from my face.

I felt Kyrian’s hand on my arm.

“Lock.”  He warned.

My eyes never leaving his, I took deep breaths, forcing myself to calm down.  I tried to smile at the man.

“Nothing.”  I managed to say.

Then I brushed past him, the sound of blood rushing in my ears.

As soon as the three of us brushed past him, the tavern of adventurers broke out into raucous laughter, slapping thighs and making more jokes at our expense.  The laughter followed us all the way to the counter.

“We ssssshould have cut of his tongue and put it on a sssspit.”  Skaris growled softly.  “Insssults like that are-”

“We are not in Zimmskar.  We are in a new place, new people with many things to do.  Making more enemies when we already have a confirmed one would be… unwise.”  Kyrian sounded worried.  “The prejudice against slaves here is worse than I expected.  I thought Jayu might be better than Turina but it seems it still prevails here.”

“It doesn’t change what we have to do.”  I answered back.  “Let’s just get it done and get out of here.”

At the counter was a woman –human woman– with neatly combed black hair.  She nodded towards us, a slight smile on her face.

“How may I help you?”

“We’re here to register.”  My earlier excitement soiled by the initial experience; I was cold and distant.

“Will all three of you be registering?”

“No.  Just us two.”  I motioned to Skaris who stood next to me.  Kyrian was already a registered adventurer.

The Adventurer’s Guild belonged to no country; though its loyalties depended on where it was located.  In MSS, the guild could be used a bank, registrar office and even a place to sell your goods; provided that the lower end of the market value was good enough.  A one-stop shop for adventurers.

She took out an orb I'd seen before in Samak City.  A grading orb.

“Please put your hand on the orb and tell me your name.”

“I ssshall go firsssst.”  Skaris put his palm on the orb.  “Sssskarisss of the Deepeater Clan.”

An array of colors played out and illegible characters were displayed.  The woman raised her eyebrows; obviously surprised.

“Congratulations Mr. Deepeater, you’re now a Grade 7 adventurer.”

It was slight but I caught it.  She frowned while looking at Skaris’ neck.

“She’s worried about sometihng and it has to do with the fact that we’re slaves.”  I filed the information away for later; it could be useful.

Next was my turn.

Putting my hands on the orb, I pulsed a little of my mana into it.  “Lock.”

If there was one thing that Arione taught me, it was that the name ‘Slaveborn’ was akin to me holding a placard screaming to the world that I was a player.  Combined with the manacle-scars on my neck, it was a dead giveaway.

Right now wasn’t the time to draw the wrong type of attention.  I needed to lay low and blend in, gathering information and resources for the future.

She froze like an ice statue and it was a full ten second before she spoke.

“Grade 6…”  She swallowed before speaking.  “Congratulations Mr. Lock.”

The woman fidgeted like she wanted to say more.

“Is there anything else I could help you with?”  She finished lamely.

“I know that there’s a dungeon raid being planned two days from now”  I repeated the information that Yousef had given me.  “A Fracture if I’m not mistaken.”

Just like that, the woman schooled her expression immediately.  All signs of being flustered, nervous and skeptical disappeared; a slight smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes being the entirety of her demeanor.

“I’m not quite sure what you are talking about.”

I smiled back at her.  “A Fracture dungeon is scheduled to open two days from now in the outskirts of the city.  You are creating a party of 15 people to raid it.  If I’m not mistaken there are exactly three places open.”

“Sir, as I said-”

“Yousef told me.”

There was silence.

“If the dungeon raid is planned two days from now and the guild has yet to fill all the seats; the guild must be pretty desperate.”

“If Mr. Yousef told you…”  She nodded.  “Please come back tomorrow.  I will have to confer with the Guild Master.  I will have your identification cards ready by then as well.”

That was a hint for us to leave her if I ever heard one but there were more things I wanted to ask.  Such as the average grade of the adventurers in that raid, how long the raid was planned for and etc.  In the end, I decided it wouldn’t matter if I knew it ahead of time; the guild master would know if he decided to meet with us.  

“We’ll be back at noon tomorrow.”  I finally said.

As we were walking away, Skaris asked Kyrian and I what a Fracture dungeon was.

“They’re a type of Portal Dungeon.  But they only open up frequently.  No one really know when one is designed to open; nor why.  However what we do know is when one is about to open.  There are mages who specialize in detecting new portal dungeons and fracture dungeons.”  Kyrian explained.  “They make a living off of it.”

That piqued my curiosity, predicting Fractures wasn’t a feature in the game.  “What kind of magic do you have to specialize in to predict a Fracture?”

“Spatial Magic.  But it’s extremely expensive; not a lot of monsters have the Spirit Cores that has a strong enough Spatial-magic alignment.  Only the wealthiest can afford to fund the creation of a Spatial Mage.  Normally, these mages are scouted out from a young age and sponsored by a noble house.  Some of the Great Houses have schools full of them.”

That was an interesting tidbit; albeit useless to someone like me who knew the location of every single Fracture and the knowhow on how to force them to open.

“What isss a portal dungeon?”

I kept my mouth shut; Kyrian seemed more than happy to explain.  No need to show off my knowledge like I used to do for L’teya and Clover.  I had already been burned once because of the suspicion that brought on.  In that way, Kyrian was an extremely welcome addition to the team.  I only needed to nudge him in the right direction if he was wrong about something.

“They are exactly what they sound like; dungeons that are connected to portals instead of being within our world.  You could enter a Portal Dungeon in the Delirious Jungle or the Samak Desert and come out in a dungeon that is filled with Ice or underwater.”  Kyrian sounded excited.  “Many stories of the First Adventurers finding powerful artifacts and Cores within Portal Dungeons exist and are not without examples.  For example; Favron the First Wayfinder found his Seeking Cube inside a Portal Dungeon.”

Hmm.  I didn’t know this about Kyrian.  He seemed to be quite the nerd for things like this.  On the flip side, Skaris listened with rapt attention.  I half-expected the lizardman warrior to not care where we went as long as he got to stab things.

“Unlike Fractures, Portals are constantly open and can be left at any time.  You can think of them as an entirely separate Ecosystem.  Fractures however, open rarely and cannot be left until a certain type of monster is defeated.  Usually the strongest monster in the dungeon.”

“Ssslaveborn.  What issss our purposssee for entering this Fracture? Would not a regular dungeon do?”

“We’re scouting.”  

“Scouting?”  

I nodded.  “We’re scouting for talent.  Keep your eyes open for any defender, priest or wayfinder.”

The people of MSS didn’t use terms like Tank, DPS or Support, especially since the concept of ‘Class’ didn’t exist for them.  They used the term defender for those who protected the backline and weapon-users interchangeably with DPS.  Skaris for example should describe himself as a Spear wielder.  I on the other hand should be describing myself as a swordsman… though the shield might confuse people.

The concept of a support-class didn’t exist at all, because depending on your party make-up you needed dramatically different types of support.  For our purposes we needed a ‘wayfinder’; someone who could detect traps, monsters and act as a general scout for the party.

Someone like Kellin for example.

“Why not ask Kellin?”

“He sssaid no.”  Skaris answered for me.  “Ssslaveborn assssked.”

“It looks like the Black Dogs are an organization unto themselves.  I think they have a base here and he’ll be making contact with them; most likely he’ll be going dungeoneering with them.  If I’m not wrong, they might actually be a registered clan with a pretty large network.”  I couldn’t hide the disappointment; I had been counting on the Black Dog leader to be out wayfider and ranged damage support.

“Hmmm.  I do believe I might have heard of a Clan of Beastman with branches everywhere.”  Kyrian accepted my explanation rather easily.  

I ignored the mocking jeers of the rogue and the people at his table, much easier than I had the first time.  Perhaps because signing up for the adventuer’s guild reminded me of the list of things I had to do.

“Ok.  There’s no point in worrying about the Fracture Dungeon until tomorrow.  We might be able to take care of potential Party Members by seeing who stands out in the dungeon. Now we should get some new equipment for ourselves and then head to the Slums…”

No.  The equipment could wait.

Recognizing that I was stalling, I looked at the huge cliff head which oversaw a cast majority of Miltus situated on the sea level.  It cast a shadow over part of the city, hiding it from view.  Coming into this town by boat, my eyes had been naturally drawn to the glitter, like it had been planned all along.  No one wanted us to see the filth that was produced to make this place what it was: beautiful.  The delineation between the sunlight and the shadow was as clear as the class distinction that I had experienced between slave and non-slave.

My footsteps led me to the Miltus Slums.

The road became empty of houses, becoming flat with no outcroppings of buildings or stalls.  We encountered less and less travelers, starting to see more and more signs of garbage.  Discarded wrappers, scrap metal and leftover food littered the ground; growing in number until there were mounds of them, large enough to be buildings.

Walking into the under-side of the cliff; we found one of Kellin’s men waiting for us.

“This way.”  He sniffed and led us deeper into the dump.

The buildings here weren’t made of marble or brick, they were made of clay and garbage, mashed together into misshapen building blocks stacked on top of each other, forming a frankenstein structure.  Yet, there were some leftover signs of civilization; normal houses –though none as pretty as the ones in the main part of Miltus– dotted the scenery here and there.  But just like Samak City, the windows were boarded up and my sharp senses caused the presence of living beings spying on us from within.

We were so close to the main part of the city that I could see it from here; it was bright and sunny with the color of flowers drawing my eyes like bees to a flower.  But here, everything was covered in shadow and the air was cool to the touch.  We could walk there in less than an hour but somehow it felt like we had entered a portal dungeon: two different worlds in the same place.

I passed by a group of people, covered in head to toe in cloaks.  They were huddled around a cauldron and my nose picked up the scent of something sickeningly sweet.  One of them grabbed a piece of something yellowish-red from the ground, tossing it into the boiling pot and I recognized it as what it was: coagulated blood and fat.  It was lard.

Then another grabbed a paper bag full of white powder and started pouring it in.

Sugar.

As they started to stir, the hint of something metallic, bland and sharp cut through the scent of fat and sugar.

"What is that smell?" Kyrian had smelled it too.

The black dog guiding us wrinkled his nose.  “Sweet Leaf.”

“What's a sweet leaf?”  I whispered.

“Drugs.”  He sniffed, smelling the same thing I had.  “This whole place is a giant drug factory, Slaveborn.”