The crystal dissolved into a flash of blinding light that streamed into his chest. He gasped as power burned through his muscles, filling every limb with strength. His HUD flickered as if it was going to recover to its original format before stabilising.
[SYSTEM ERROR: Incomplete Interface]
Character: William Draven
Race: Half-Elf/Human
Class: Holy Paladin of the Fallen Gods
Level: 200
XP: ??/??
Health: ??/??
Mana: ??/??
Strength: 200
Charisma: ??
Agility: ??
Intelligence: ??
Willpower: ??
Luck: ??
Free points: ??
Stamina: 44%
[Skills] SYSTEM ERROR
[Professions] SYSTEM ERROR
[Titles] SYSTEM ERROR
[Reputation] SYSTEM ERROR
[Quests] SYSTEM ERROR
[Oaths] SYSTEM ERROR
[Warning: Moderate Fatigue 44%]
[Warning: Moderate Injury ??%]
William stared; his Strength stat wasn’t blank anymore. “What the hell! Only two hundred?” He’d lost 90% of his Strength points. His gauntleted hand clenched into a fist, annoyed at the loss of his decade of hard work in the game.
The Holy Paladin class gained 40 points at each level up with the following distribution:
Health: 5pts
Mana: 5pts
Strength: 7pts
Charisma: 5pt
Agility: 3pts
Intelligence: 3pts
Willpower: 2pt
Free points: 10pts
William had used his 10 free points at each level to support his main stats.
Health: 2pts
Mana: 2pts
Strength: 3pts
Charisma: 2pts
Agility: 1pts
Intelligence: 0pts
Willpower: 0pt
The Luck stat increased through competing in events in the game.
As a level 200 Holy Paladin, his character screen should look like the following.
[Character Interface]
Character: William Draven
Race: Half-Elf/Human
Class: Holy Paladin
Level: 200
XP: 200,999/201,000
Health: 1,400/1,400
Mana: 1,400/1,400
Strength: 2,000
Charisma: 1,400
Agility: 800
Intelligence: 600
Willpower: 400
Luck: 13
Free points: 0
…
Despite his anger, he noticed the ache in his muscles dulled beneath the surge of new power. It wasn’t a full recovery, but it was better than a flick in the face with a lizard’s tail. “At least I feel stronger now.”
Taking a deep breath to calm his anger, he reevaluated, “Okay, if I can recover 10% of a stat from one of these crystals… That’s ten for each damn stat.” He was getting annoyed again after realising he might have to defeat eighty bosses just to recover his core stats. “What is wrong with the AI programmers? Eighty boss fights like this.” He kicked the lizard corpse with his injured leg. “Goddamn, urgh!”
“Log out. Menu.” Still nothing. “Stupid piece of cheap foreign junk.” Will rubbed his sore leg, but it didn’t help. “[Divine Light].” Nothing happened. As a level 200 Holy Paladin, a single [Divine Light] spell would’ve had him back to 100% health in under a minute.
Still annoyed and disappointed, Will took one last glance at the mutilated lizard corpse before limping towards the exit. Every step resulted in a throb of pain, but a spark of determination was building in his chest.
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
It took William over fifteen minutes to calm down. “I might be broken now,” his grip tightened on his sword as he used it as a makeshift staff, “but if this world’s going to treat me as a fallen god, then I’ll take back everything that’s mine.” He shuddered as he looked back towards the dungeon. “I might have to do that eighty times.”
***
Will’s dented, scratched, and bloodstained armour clinked as he staggered through the treeline while the last glow of sunset bled across the sky. He clenched his jaw and kept going, the blood beneath his greave squelched with each limping step. His gore-covered sword dug deep into the dirt as he used it as a makeshift walking staff.
The small village of Brindlecross came into view, woodsmoke curling from chimneys, lanterns blinking awake. A few farmers spotted him first, their tools clattering to the ground as they stood dumbfounded. By the time he reached the village square, half the population had spilt out of their homes. The wide-eyed villagers whispered to one another.
“It’s the god,” someone said.
“He’s wounded. L-look at the blood,” a man gasped.
A child clutched her mother’s skirt, pointing at the crimson-stained tracks he left in the dirt.
They didn’t swarm him or dare to touch him. Instead, they bowed or dropped to their knees as he limped past, murmuring prayers in low voices. Even the village elder bowed, his eyes downcast, though Will caught a quick moment of worry in the old man’s gaze.
He wanted to collapse and to let someone—anyone—pull this armour off, clean the wound, and tell him he hadn’t just crippled his game character for a stupid, prideful gamble. Instead, he forced his back straight, and with teeth gritted against the pain, he limped on. If they saw weakness, the illusion cracked. If they saw strength, maybe the lie held.
Will stopped in the centre of the square, leaning on his sword like a sceptre. The villagers stayed kneeling, waiting for words that never came.
So they believe I’m a fallen god; I can work with that… for now. Will cleared his throat and rasped through a raw throat, “Bring me food and water.” He recalled the food and water in his spatial storage. Damn it! He scanned the villagers; they were mostly poor peasant farmers. “Does anyone have squire experience?” He’d need help getting out of his armour; he wasn’t sure how it all clipped together.
The command carried across the hush. The crowd stirred as if the weight of heaven itself had spoken. Bowing lower, some of the women scattered to fetch food and water.
A short, scruffy teenager with mousy brown hair and large orange freckles was pushed forward by a middle-aged man. “My son, m’lord.” The boy’s father bowed. “He worked as a squire for a year before, erm, his master died, m’lord. He’s a good lad and a hard worker. On my honour.” He bowed lower.
Will’s vision swam, but he held his ground, refusing to show just how close he was to falling. If they thought him a god, then he’d bleed like one while standing tall. He nodded and deepened his voice. “What’s your name, son?”
The teen bowed. “Fredric, my lord.”
“Well, Fred. Where can I get out of my armour?” He aimed the question at the boy’s father.
The youth froze at Will’s question, his eyes wide in shock, until an old voice broke the silence.
“My lord. We’ve prepared a room in my humble home.” The elder stepped forward and offered a small bow.
William nodded, not caring where he went as long as he could get out of his armour, have his wounds and bruises tended to, and of course eat some food. He recalled the 4x [Slice of Strawberry Cake] in his spatial storage and sighed. He pulled one from his storage to the gasps of the villagers. He ate it in a few bites. Urgh! Tasteless. Crap!
“Please come, my lord.” The elder shuffled forward with his staff in hand. His back was bent, but his gaze was sharp. “You should not bleed in the dust like common folk. Let us tend your wounds.” He took a step towards one of the larger cottages in the village. “It’s this way, my lord.”
Will gave a curt nod. “Fine. Lead on.” He followed with all the grace of a lion with a thorn in its foot.
Chapter 006 [Quest Accepted: Remove Your Armour]
