< You have learned the skill: Fixation >
< Cogitation Lvl. 9 -> Fixation Lvl. 2 >
I look at the screen blankly before pulling up my status and confirming that is no longer on my list of skills. It seems I have somehow upgraded my old skill into . Is this a skill evolution like the reward mentioned, or something else?
Perhaps it might be because I hit a level threshold which automatically upgraded the skill. Then again, what kind of skill just goes from ten straight to two? There are also no other notifications even showing that I hit level 10 with to warrant the upgrade. Furthermore, there isn’t anything mentioning me hitting level 1 in my new skill which leads me to believe that I made a straight jump from level 9 to level 2.
Wait a minute.
I pull up one of my quests to check something.
[Quests]
Raise four skills to level 10
-Passive Skill of Choice
‘Raise four skills to level 10.’
It doesn’t say anything about a skill upgrade counting toward the goal. I also never got a notification that hit level 10. Did this just set me back an entire seven levels? The majority of the excitement in upgrading my skill becomes null and void as I realize I will have to re-level my skill up to ten before it counts toward the quest.
The System is such an asshole.
I dismiss all the screens and run my hand over my scalp. I can feel a good amount of stubble now, but I am still basically bald. Looking down at myself, my mind finally turns over to my current predicament. I am on a new floor with what seem like other people. They think I am some sort of ‘Fallen’ and treat me like I am a bother. I might have been overwhelmed with my thoughts when I first arrived on this floor, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t listening to what the first man had said.
He said there were other Fallen that arrived before me. He also said to put me with ‘the rest,’ meaning that I am on the way to see them right now.
There is no guarantee that this means I am going to see the other survivors of Floor One. For all I know, the ‘Fallen’ are some sort of aspect of this Floor’s objective and the people I am going to be stuck with might just be mobs like the two who are toting me around right now. I can feel a slight flicker of excitement welling up in my mind, but I quash it as fast as it comes. I am itching to reach out to them in some desperate shot that they might actually be happy to see me and that the other survivors are good people.
I still have the ‘Forum Access’ reward left from clearing Floor One. I have a hunch that the Forum will be a method of communication for myself and other humans or something even bigger than that. I make sure that I don’t open the Forum yet though, and something tells me that I shouldn’t just yet. I still don’t know if these people are my competition or not. The only thing I know about them so far is that they left me to die, and for that I don’t believe they deserve the benefit of the doubt just yet.
I try to focus on the shaky ride in the cart and make my silent preparations. It seems like I had been ruminating for longer than I had thought, as we have already crossed into the grassy area I saw from the gate, and a few small buildings pass by every now and then. Where we are now, it looks like the constructs are worn down and some even abandoned. My attention drifts to the two men sitting at the front of the cart. They aren’t talking anymore, so the ride is fairly quiet other than the clomping of the bull’s hooves on the road. After some time, I finally get the nerve to speak up and confirm what has been bothering me.
“Are you guys mobs or real people,” I ask bluntly.
“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Brian says without even turn around.
Yeah, I guess that answers my question.
“Can I ask what a Fallen is?”
“You idiots always have the same questions.”
I don’t even bother thinking of another question and just sit back in my seat and stare listlessly at the passing countryside. I hear a low chuckle off to my side which I recognize from earlier as the slim guy.
“Don’t look so dejected kid, Brian here is just a bit annoyed at having to escort some of your kind twice within the same week.” The man readjusts himself to turn toward me a bit, “Fallen is a name for you strays we find outside of the wall. Heh… it comes from the fact you all act like you fell on your head.”
The beanstalk man that I am quickly losing any respect for loses his composure and laughs to himself for a few minutes straight at his own joke. I can even see Brian’s wide shoulders shaking at his comrade’s remark.
Should I kill these guys?
“What level are you two?” I ask after my patience runs out.
Suddenly the laughter dies out, and the beanstalk guy turns back toward the road.
“You got some fucking balls on you kid. I don’t wanna hear another peep from your scrawny ass for the rest of the trip or I will kill you.” Brian states bluntly.
I open and close my mouth a few times before ultimately deciding to stay quiet for the safety of my health. I make double sure that my skill is in check before scooting a couple of inches further away from the two armored individuals.
I’m not scared; you are!
I stay completely quiet for the rest of the trip and just watch the scenery while only being mildly terrified for my life. Basically, all of my plans to get away and sneak around have been thrown out the window now that I have to worry about disturbing the two jerks driving the cart. What is their problem anyway? Is asking someone’s level equivalent to killing someone’s pet here? I’m too scared to ask what the issue is so I just sit in silence. It really doesn’t help that I can’t see their level. I can’t accurately guess whether or not I can mess around a bit or if I will get deleted the second I attempt to open my mouth.
At this point, we are getting close enough to the city where some people are out and about. They all look like normal people I would see on Earth. I check around and see similar question marks on everyone’s icons. I can’t tell if this is supposed to be the norm, or if I am missing something. It seemed like the first man I met at the gate could see my level based on how he described me to the two chuckleheads that ride with me now. Maybe looking at a Fallen's level is normal. Still seems pretty rude if you ask me, but I won-
< Furnace Stoker - Level 36 >
I stare at a young man walking past the cart. He seems fairly down in the dumps and carries a large bag on his back full of coal. His ruddy face is slightly tinged red, and he wears heavy leather overalls that are patched in multiple places. The guy looks no older than I am and continues his monotonous march down the dirt road while I watch him fade into the distance.
So that’s how it is.
I don’t bother looking around anymore and just sit and practice running mana through my network. We pass by a few smaller towns, and I even spot some children running through a town fountain.
< Unclassed - Level 20 >
< Unclassed - Level 22 >
< Unclassed - Level 24 >
My thousand-yard stare turns into a million-yard stare, and I silently curse the children to a supper full of vegetables they think are icky.
Eventually we reach the foot of the city I saw from the gate. It is a lot larger than I had thought previously, and I still don’t even see the castle mentioned in the Floor Objective. I am quietly wondering just how big this floor is when the cart stops, and the two men hop off. I want to ask if I should get off too, but I shortly remember that I was told to keep my mouth shut so instead I just give the slim guard a questioning look. He waves me on, and I quickly hop off myself and follow them toward a nearby building that resembles a medieval tavern. My tattered shoes clomp on the stone street, and I am forced to dodge around some ignorant people as they ignore me while on their way into the city.
Brian opens the door for the rune wielder that I still do not know the name of, and as I am about to walk through, the larger man clamps a hand painfully onto my shoulder. I am only a few inches shorter than the man, but he nonetheless leans down next to my ear.
“Don’t be a pest for Garf. If I hear you’ve been causing him trouble… you won’t like the consequences.”
He doesn’t even give me a chance to nod before shoving me through the door and closing it behind me. That leaves the beanstalk man and I alone in what looks like a large mess hall. Benches are lined up like a children’s cafeteria and there is natural light coming down from the wood-framed windows that make up the ceiling. I take a moment to try and calculate how flammable the place is and fail to notice the guard making his way to the far side of the room where a desk sits. I hastily follow him and keep my head down while I take peeks around the place. As we approach, I finally notice a tired-looking man sitting behind the desk with his shiny bald head buried in stacks of paperwork. He doesn’t seem to register our presence, so the rune wielder clears his throat while knocking a metal fist on the wooden desk. The man snorts in surprise and looks up to address us with squinting purple eyes.
< Mana Engineer - Level ??? >
“Hey Garf, we found another Fallen at the gate. The captain said to bring him over to be sorted with the rest.”
The bald man, or ‘Garf,’ continues to squint at the guard for a moment before turning his gaze to me. “That silver haired woman said that her group was the only one coming through. Don’t lie to me boy, are there any more of you on the way?”
I look over at the guard and he nods slightly.
“Uh, no sir. It’s just me and my cat.” I say in my most convincing voice.
Garf nods absently while sparing a glance at Pawl. He waves his hand in the air while turning back to his stack of paper.
“Drop the boy and his beast off with Sella so she can see to his wounds and then feel free to head out Tobias. I will send one of his Fallen friends to take them back to the barracks.”
Tobias nods like he expected that answer, and he leads me down the hall while I listen to Garf’s complaints about more paperwork fade into the background. We soon arrive at a door with a little diamond shaped plaque on the wood, and Tobias knocks briefly before walking off, leaving me alone in the hallway. After a full minute of waiting quietly in the hallway, I am about to just walk in myself when the door finally swings open to reveal a middle-aged woman with crow’s feet around her eyes and a small smile that pulls her papery skin taunt.
She looks me up and down before her smile turns into a look of worry.
“Oh, honey, you look to be in bad shape. Let’s get you fixed up.”
The woman who I assume is Sella waves me in and sits me down on what looks like a classic hospital examination table. She continues to coo and call me ‘honey’ while she rushes around to get some supplies. She doesn’t even ask about who I am or what happened. Instead, she continues to reassure me that everything will be okay while she carefully cleans my various wounds.
The feeling of my body being cleaned and cared for is nice, and the small office occupied by such a nice older lady makes me relax slightly and remember some of the good times when I first started my treatment. Sella reminds me of one of the nice nurses that would slip me some extra morphine when the doctor wasn’t looking.
Doing my best to be a good patient, I sit quietly and do not flinch at all when her nails occasionally rake across one of my injuries or when she squeezes certain parts of my tattered left hand. I can even feel foreign pressure work its way through my body similar to a level up, and my skin feels like it is plunged in acid while I watch my wounds heal visibly. I continue to observe as she bandages my arms while wrapping entirely too tight. I don’t even bother mentioning how she pokes my bone with the end of a pin that was supposed to just hold my dressing in place. In the end, she is even nice enough to help me take a bath in the restroom attached to the office. The water was bubbling despite her not adding in any soap, but I thought it was nice and warm, so I scrubbed myself clean while she grabbed me a pair of fresh clothes to wear.
Despite my wounds not being fully healed, I am still very grateful for her efforts and the nice treatment. When she is all done, I look up with a grin and am about to thank her, but I notice she is frowning heavily and looking at me like I am a piece of poop that somehow found my way on to the bottom of her shoe.
“Just get out of my office, freak. Go tell Garf you are cleared and ready to go to the barracks.”
The fuck?
She quickly rushes me out of the office, and I barely catch a glimpse of her icon as she shoos Pawl out of the room before slamming the door in my face.
< Sadist-Healer - Level ??? >