I woke up laid out on a cot, my body wrapped in bandages. I sat up and saw I was in the middle of an open-sided triage canopy back in Waystone, surrounded by rows of occupied cots throughout the triage station. Judging by the sunlight peering in underneath the tent's awning, it was early afternoon.

  Last night's memories flashed through my mind. Everything was crystal clear until I passed out. Xodoven must have carried me out himself.

  Did I owe him gratitude or a sucker-punch for watching and not stepping in until I was at death's door? I also wanted to ask him what happened to Pearl Banner and the mercenaries, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  I stretched my arms over my head and cracked my neck to the side, relieving some tension. Had they doped me up with high-quality painkillers? There was a slight soreness in my left arm, but nothing compared to the previous evening.

  As I began unwrapping the bandages, a woman carrying an armful of wet towels saw what I was doing. “Don't touch that. Lay back down this instant.”

  I obeyed, despite feeling relatively fine.

  “You shouldn't even be awake,” she said, rushing to my side. “Don't move a muscle. You could die. I'm surprised you even made it through the night.”

  Me too.

  Several mistakes had nearly cost me everything. Holding onto my mastery points was one of them. Maybe an upgraded ability could've turned the tide. In the heat of combat, down an arm with the other occupied with the tonfa, relying on the pocket glass to access the system was far too impractical. I never had a chance to spend those points even if I wanted to.

  Underestimating those horrific monsters and Pearl Banner's ability to deal with them was another glaring error. I thought it was a solid plan, create chaos with the sludgecrawlers, assassinate the guardian, grab the key, and take-off. However, Westcott had enough experience and knowledge, making the horde of monsters more of a mere inconvenience rather than a full-blown disaster.

  Black Diamond Mercenary Company's attendance was also a stroke of bad luck, although foreseeable. I knew Pearl Banner had contracted them before. Still, I considered my biggest fault was using Abyssal Veil without testing it beforehand. Discovering its inordinate stamina cost mid-battle had nearly caused my downfall. I wondered if its stamina consumption varied like Shadow Weave depending on its application.

  I closed my eyes, reflecting on the moment I activated Abyssal Veil, recalling how the guardian's palm pressed into my chest like a steaming iron. Then Abyssal Veil activated, numbing everything for the four—maybe five seconds it took for Dor-Koth's spell to go off as I finished him. Had I channeled it, or was it a one-off spell stopper? Either way, it needed further testing.

  This system is ridiculous. No wonder the others before me failed.

  The severe lack of clarity was downright negligent. Clearly, quality of life wasn't even considered when Justice cobbled this janky heap of a system together. It was riddled with faults. Like how difficult it was to first access my system status and how lacking the talent tree and ability descriptions were. The complete absence of a simple tutorial also agitated me further.

  That wasn't even the tip of the iceberg. Why couldn't the system provide me with a basic HUD or the ability to visualize my stats? Instead, I had to gauge my stamina internally, which turned out to be the most precious resource, since every ability I used seemed to rely on it. I knew it was possible for the system to provide more details because it had no problem tossing bold text out of the sky whenever I cut someone's throat or scanned someone with Karma’s Gaze.

  I sighed, promising myself I'd kiss Justice's ass the next time I saw her with the hopes she'd answer some questions. Until then, I’d take drastic measures. I had gotten ahead of myself, too focused on the bigger picture. My ego had grown at an exponential rate, going unchecked. I had taken unnecessary risks again and again since I gained these powers.

  What had happened to me? On Earth, I had always been methodical. Here, I was running amok like a methed out Jason Voorhees.

  Last night proved I wasn't invincible, providing the wake-up call I so desperately needed.

  Fuck, you're pathetic.

  The nurse pulled up a stool and gently unwrapped layer after layer of bandages, starting with my right hand. As she peeled back the last strip of gauze, she gasped. “Your hand... It's completely healed.”

  A thin scar ran vertically between my fingers, down to my wrist where it had been splayed open by Westcott's dagger. I wriggled my fingers and made a fist. There didn't seem to be any nerve damage, which I attributed to the sole recovery stat point I had gained some time back.

  Or maybe the minty healing potion was responsible? Or perhaps a healer attended to me and cast a powerful spell?

  Who knows? Surely, the system couldn't give a shit to keep the receipts.

  “What's with that look?” the nurse asked. “Are your ears well?”

  I just nodded and adjusted Filter on Karma's Gaze, scanned her status and flicked it back off to avoid getting spammed with the life stories of all the injured sad sacks in my near vicinity. I wondered if Justice considered the instant migraines from the onslaught of statuses a feature.

  That's strike nine or ten against the system. But hey, who's keeping track?

  The nurse snapped her fingers and waved her hands in front of my face. “Sir, can you hear me?”

  “Yes, my ears are fine.” I said, staring up at the burlap tarp ceiling.

  I started to sit-up, but Callie, the level one nurse cried foul and pushed me back down. “Stop squirming and wait.” She signaled to another nurse out of my line of sight. “He's awake. Bring the Silent Healer here at once.”

  It suddenly dawned on me that I had been stripped of my clothing and all of my gear. “Where's my equipment?” I asked.

  Callie unfurled the bandages across my back, leaving a small mountain of gauze at my side. “Worry not. Your handsome friend retrieved your belongings, too.”

  The nurse examined my back, impressed by the fact that the arrow wounds were completely healed over, leaving nothing but faint scars behind. When she got to my left arm, she was totally dumbfounded.

  “How?” she asked.

  There wasn't any evidence of the third-degree burns that had covered my left arm just mere hours ago. Instead, it looked like I had fallen asleep on the beach for a few hours without any sunscreen. The red splotches that ran the length of my arm were sore to the air, but overall, the arm was fully functional.

  Finally, I sat up, much to Callie's dismay.

  “If Waystone's Savior dies on my watch, I'll never live it down. So please stay put.”

  “Waystone's Savior?”

  “Those who witnessed your selfless action will regale this tale until the day they die. How you threw yourself into the throes of such horrid monsters to save our village.” Callie dabbed a tear from the corner of her eye.

  That wasn't really the case. Sure, saving Waystone was a nice bonus, but I mainly wanted the sludgecrawlers to distract Pearl Banner while I hijacked the guardian's key.

  “Thank you, Cyprus,” she said, clasping her hands over mine.

  I peeled back and stood up. “It was merely my duty.”

  Callie had stars in her eyes as I stepped out from underneath the triage tent, feeling the sun warm every inch of my body.

  Wait.

  I cleared my throat. “Excuse me, where are my pants?”

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  ***

  Thankfully, Callie had a villager rush over some clean underwear, linen pants, and an off-white shirt. Along with the clothes, Eliza, the owner of the local general goods store, supplied me with a brand new set of leather armor, a few new cloaks, and some rations as thanks.

  Everyone was lobbing around pleasantries and trying to shake my hand as I made my way through the village to their only tavern, where Callie said Xodoven and the Silent Healer were eating lunch.

  It took little critical thinking to deduce that Viessa was the healer they were referring to.

  I swung open the front door and stepped inside to a drunken chorus of cheers. Dozens occupied the bar and filled out the surrounding tables, slamming beers and feasting on sausages.

  Several strangers offered to buy me a drink, but I politely declined, heading toward a table in the room's corner where Viessa and Xodoven were sitting. The table's occupants shifted upon my arrival, with random villagers happily offering me their seats.

  “How are you already walking around?” Xodoven asked, glancing up from his beer. “I sent a raven informing Eamon of your injuries, telling him it could be several days before we returned to the guildhall.”

  I sat down and within moments, a waiter brought over a complimentary pitcher and plates stacked with steaming hot food. Despite everyone's overflowing positive energy, I was still reeling over my defeat.

  I picked up a fork and speared a fatty piece of fish and locked eyes with Xodoven. “Good. I'd like to take our time before we return.”

  “If you're well enough to travel, we'll depart for Ingcaster immediately.”

  Viessa looked at me from behind her mask like she wanted to say something, but bit her tongue. I intentionally focused on Grimspark, preventing the system from screwing up its automatic translation.

  “No, there are things I need to take care of here first. It looks like Waystone suffered minimal damages. And what happened to Westcott and the mercenaries?"

  “Thanks to your recklessness, there were only two casualties and a dozen injuries. Westcott's party cleaned up the overflow and went home with their heads down. I don't know what happened to the mercenaries. I was too busy carrying your ass out of there.” Xodoven shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “When you threw yourself over the wall, I thought you were a dead man. So I cut my losses and went straight for the guardian. Yet, somehow, when I arrived at the quarry you were already there, smashing the life out of that lich.”

  Xodoven scowled and ran his hand through his hair, unnerved, realizing several randoms at our table were hanging on to his every word. “Everyone, it's been a pleasure, but get the fuck out.”

  Grimspark stood and clapped his hands loud enough that the glass closet to him cracked, instantly silencing the bar. “Speaking on behalf of Waystone's Great Savior, we request you continue the celebration outdoors.”

  There was an initial hesitation, and a single boo, but eventually everyone complied, though I wasn't sure if it was out of respect or fear of retribution from this egomaniac.

  “I already measured your strength and determined I'm much stronger than you. Yet, you slayed that guardian quicker than what should've been possible.”

  “The mercenaries softened him up,” I retorted.

  “Bull piss. I watched you survive the guardian's spell unscathed. What trick did you use? And why in Galdir's name does your baton weigh so much? Then there's the strange matter of your recovery. I was convinced you'd die on my back or this morning. How powerful is your healer, and what's his name?”

  Stop asking so many goddamn questions.

  Xodoven turned his gaze on Viessa. “Don't think you can ignore me forever, prick.”

  The elf ignored him, happily sipping beer through her jet-black cloth mask, dripping it all over the place.

  “Calm down, he doesn't speak the language.”

  “Where's he from, then? The locals might love him because he healed several of the wounded, but that doesn't excuse the bastard from not learning the common tongue.”

  Xodoven sure had a way of wrapping a compliment around an insult. I shoveled roasted potatoes into my mouth, not answering a single one of his perfectly valid questions. I hesitated to spew more lies, already fearful of slipping up.

  “Since Eamon's given me a few days off, I'm going to make use of that time,” I said, watching Xodoven's expression sour.

  “He'll want the key returned immediately since there's no need to wait for your recovery.”

  “You asked me yesterday about the kind of training I endured underneath the Hollow Demon, didn't you?”

  Xodoven's eyes shifted. “So what? That has nothing to do with—”

  I interjected, “You already sent a raven. He's not expecting us right away. If you entertain my request, I'll let you take part in my secret training regimen. What's a few more days?”

  Xodoven mulled over my proposal before saying, “I suppose we could spare two days. However, I'll be watching you every waking moment, and you will answer my questions.”

  Forcing a smile, I nodded. “Yes, no problem.”

  ***

  I didn't, in fact, answer any of Xodoven's questions. Although, that didn't stop him from asking them as I bought a slew of goods and a massive cart to haul them in at a steeply discounted price of 50 silver. When the villagers realized we were leaving, dozens of folks came out and piled additional offerings onto the cart.

  A few of them had even retrieved our horses from the northern outskirts of Waystone out of sheer gratitude. They cheered us off as we departed from the south exit.

  “How old is the Hollow Demon? Some say he's lived for over three centuries,” Xodoven called out from atop his horse.

  Viessa rode Greymane, leaving the horse we borrowed from the adventurer's guild in Waystone's stables.

  I led the way, pulling the loaded cart behind me with one hand while I ran with my Gloomgem Tonfa in the other. I recalled gaining the odd stat point here or there just from raw exercise when I was at a lower level. So I knew it was possible to improve my stats outside of leveling up. Thus, I planned on spending the next two days solely focused on gaining more stat points. And since stamina was my current bottleneck, I decided to start there.

  “What's our destination?” Xodoven said, finally asking a question I could actually answer.

  “I'm looking for a trail on our left. Master left me a small place,” I said, referring to the isolated shack I had started in.

  I needed a safe, isolated spot for what was to come. The problem was retracing the steps I'd taken nearly two weeks ago. After an hour of racing down the dirt trail, I spotted a vaguely familiar path and a nest of level one devil beetles.

  “Here it is.” I turned left, heading up the base of the hill's winding path.

  My right arm cramped up, going numb as I gripped the tonfa.

  Agility Burst.

  “See you at the top,” I said and shot off ahead of the party.

  Picking up the pace, the cart's wheels bounced violently as I strained my muscles to keep it in check, heart and lungs on fire, greenery blurring in my peripheral vision.

  Faster.

  I found myself quickly approaching an invisible wall of my own creation. Every fiber in my body screamed for me to stop. Yet, I disregarded my instincts and activated Shadow Weave, cutting through random shrubbery to drain my stamina purposefully.

  Warning Stamina Low

  As the bold text floated down from the forest's canopy, I closed my eyes and tried measuring my exact stamina reserves. It was difficult to gauge, my best guess being that I had less than 10% left in the tank.

  I shot around a curve and jumped over a log in the path's center, using the shadows beneath the cart to lift it over the obstacle. My heart skipped a beat and my stomach plunged as I collapsed into the dirt.

  Warning Stamina Critical

  I lay face first on the ground, catching my breath, glad that the cart at least hadn't tipped over. It was my first time lifting something heavy with Shadow Weave, which clearly consumed vast amounts of stamina in mere seconds. I pushed myself off the ground, holstered the Gloomgem Tonfa and dragged the cart up the last stretch of the hill.

  The crappy little starter shack Justice had introduced me to was still standing atop the hill. It would be a tight living arrangement, but rest and relaxation wasn't the point of this pit-stop.

  I sat down on a rock outside the shack and caught my breath while I waited for Viessa and Xodoven to reach the top.

  I flipped open my pocket glass, scrolled to the bottom of my status, and quickly reviewed my existing stats.

  +9 Stamina

  +8 Agility

  +7 Strength

  +1 Recovery

  +1 Resilience

  Stamina wasn't the only stat I wanted to improve. However, I assumed, since it was the highest level, it would take the most effort to increase. Resilience and Recovery were also important stats, and with only one point in each, I hoped they would progress quicker.

  Despite relying on Agility for speed and dexterity, I rarely found myself outmatched in that department. Strength was another attractive choice for leveling. More Strength stat points would make wielding the Gloomgem Tonfa much easier. Being capable of stacking the weapon's passive bonus beyond 100% without my joints exploding was an incredible prospect.

  Viessa and Xodoven arrived fifteen minutes later, time I used to physically recover. Blowing out a relaxed breath, I stood up and gave them a grand tour, which took all of two seconds.

  The crudely built log shack was slightly bigger than a walk-in closet. Aside from a damaged table fit for one, a single chair, and a dusty blanket with a pillow in the corner, the interior was bare.

  “Don't tell me...” Xodoven muttered. Tilting the chair forward, he tapped on the table three times before bending down and looking underneath it.

  What's he going on about?

  “Hmm...” Xodoven scratched his chin as he approached a rotten log in the wall. “Found it.”

  The soft wood disintegrated as he pressed his palm into it and listened for a reaction. Nothing the happened aside from there now being a hole in the wall.

  Befuddled, Xodoven finally turned to me and asked, “OK, where's the switch?”

  “I don't understand what's going on right now,” I admitted.

  “This was once the Hollow Demon's lair. There must be a lever somewhere that reveals a secret underground chamber or two.”

  I palmed my forehead. “This isn't an escape room. What you see is what you get.”

  My words snuffed out Xodoven's excitement like I'd just told a child Santa Claus wasn't real and, in fact, Christmas was actually nothing but a highly commercialized scheme to increase consumer spending.

  His scowl probably could've lit the shack on fire. Instead, he moved into the center of the room and stretched his arms out at his sides, his fingers nearly able to touch the opposing walls. “The three of us are supposed to stay here? There's no plumbing, and I know I didn't see an outhouse.”

  “The accommodations are lacking, but we'll make do,” I said.

  Shitting in the woods wasn't the end of the world. Unpleasant? Sure, but Xodoven looked like he was moments away from stroking out.

  “Aren't you going to weigh in?” he turned to Viessa, who was quietly sitting in the corner, nose deep in her language tomes.

  She didn't bother acknowledging Xodoven, which only frustrated him further.

  “Go outside, take in the view, and try to relax,” I said, hoping to get a quick word in with Viessa.

  “Hey prick, if you think you can order me around, I'll knock your teeth out and take you back to the guild immediately.”

  “As you wish, let's begin training," I said, motioning toward the door.

  At last, Xodoven shut-up and walked outside while I mentally prepared myself for a beating.