[QUICK AUTHOR'S NOTE] Sorry for the long wait! Been a bit of a rough couple of weeks, especially since this chapter was a massive pain to write.
Keep in mind, this chapter is pretty big, almost the length of three normal chapters.
Hope you enjoy!
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Tucked deep within Freddy’s storage ring was a little platinum card. To date, it was among the most valuable things he had stumbled upon. And for good reason. As long as one had a platinum membership, any bid for a spot in the Tower of York counted as if it were worth 20% more.
If it were only a matter of getting in, that would be one thing, but due to the nature of the Tower of York, those who went in first tended to do better, so any bit of extra value a bidder could squeeze out went a long way.
The origin of these memberships was an old piece of history, from all the way back when the Tower of York was first discovered. The empress had gifted the cards to her most loyal followers, ensuring that those she picked had a far better fighting chance for spots in the tower.
Bidding bonuses had been a thing even before this act, but generally, the empress’s gesture was recognized as the event that popularized the practice.
A practice that Freddy quickly grew to hate with a burning, fierce passion.
Bidding bonuses were no reward. They were a fuck you to anyone who didn’t have them.
Competing against someone whose money was simply worth more was agonizing.
This became especially obvious as, throughout the years, those factions which had received the said reward repeatedly performed better than their competitors at the Tower. Those loyal to the empress thrived. The rest made sure to never repeat the same mistake again. And, of course, both sides copied the same strategy.
Factions in the empire had full power over how they chose to grant access to passages they owned. Many kept the juiciest stuff for themselves, which was understandable. But for most such private passages—especially for resetting or instance dungeons—rather than keeping them locked up when nobody was using them, it was far more lucrative to sell access tickets.
Freddy started his new routine off slowly.
Soul damage made it that much harder to conjure the willpower needed to deal with bullshit, and the last thing he wanted was to burn out. Healing was no race—it was a marathon. One he would be taking a step at a time.
The first two weeks were some of the slowest of his entire life. In a good way. He read up on the local dungeoneering scene a bit, making some calls, learning where he could get access tickets. The ATA had no part in selling access to passages, so for the most part, unless he could get in through his connections, he would have to buy tickets through auctions.
There were several companies that offered the service of representing people like Freddy at these auctions and buying tickets in their stead. Unfortunately for Freddy, nobody wanted to work with him. Why? No reason was given, but he had a few guesses.
Namely, he was likely too powerful.
The dungeons he wanted to access would require bidding against high-level factions, and the companies in question wanted no part in pissing anyone off.
Frustrating, but understandable.
At the very least, he had little trouble with getting in touch with tutors for all his new hobbies. During the first week, he met most of them in person. Some came to his apartment, others required him to travel around a bit. Little to no actual tutoring happened, but he met a number of interesting people, and got a better idea of what kinds of activities he wanted to stick with, and which he wouldn’t mind cutting out.
For the instruments, he settled on learning the piano, guitar, and violin. Singing, he would try, if for no reason other than the fact it would force him way out of his comfort zone. Painting was another thing he wasn’t too excited about, but he wanted to give it a shot. He had wanted to do sculpting, among several other things, but he changed his mind after meeting the sculptor who was going to tutor him.
The guy had some interesting ideas about… right about everything, really. He was an older man, and it was evident that he’d been through a lot just by how he carried himself.
Freddy’s visit to his shop went well enough. They chatted a bit, with the sculptor asking him a series of questions, ranging from who he was to why he was there. They had a good talk, and Freddy ended up telling him about all the new hobbies he was getting into, as well as the reason for doing so.
“Can I ask you a question, son?” the sculptor asked.
“Sure.”
“Do you have any real interest in sculpting?”
Freddy gave a half-shrug. “I don’t know. I thought I’d give it a shot, and see where it goes from there.”
The man nodded at that. “Trying new things is good. But from what I see, you’re going about it a little wrong.”
“How so?”
“You’re just trying out whatever. Tell me, out of all those things, how many are you truly interested in?”
Freddy paused at that. “Well… I uh…” He gave another weak shrug. “I’d love to be able to play an instrument, I guess.”
“Why?”
“I… I don’t know how to answer that.”
“Come on! You gotta have some reason for it.” He leaned forward. “Is it to impress girls?”
Freddy grinned awkwardly. “Wouldn’t hurt.”
The man smiled. “That’s not a bad reason. And it's fine to have wants, but there are things you should be mindful of.”
He got up and walked over to a massive chunk of marble resting in the middle of the workshop. Putting his palm on it, he slowly caressed it, feeling out the grooves, kinks—getting a feel for its surface. “Technically, I could carve this thing into anything. But throughout my many years of work, I’ve learned that while I can change a block’s shape, I can’t change its purpose.”
He knocked on the marble, then put an ear on it. “When I force my vision on it, I can make beautiful things. Beautiful, but wrong.” He knocked again. “It takes many years to learn how to listen. To let it guide you, teach you, not how to twist, but how to free. To peel off the excess, and liberate the wonderful piece of art that had been there all along.” He pulled back, and walked over to Freddy.
Reaching out a hand, he lightly tapped Freddy on the chest. “Now speak to me. What is it that you’re meant to be? A sculptor? A musician?” Pause. “A fighter? A lover?”
Freddy chuckled. “I wonder the same thing.” He jokingly knocked on the sculptor’s arm. “That’s why I’ve been knocking all over the place.”
The man gave him a gentle smile. “I’m not saying you should stop doing that. But knocking isn’t enough. You also have to listen. If you, as you say, suffer from such soul damage, it would be best to remain careful.” He lowered his voice into a whisper. “Lest you twist yourself into something you aren’t meant to be.”
Freddy’s smile died on his lips. He slowly nodded. “Right.”
“Now knock again. Knock, and listen.” The man gave Freddy a moment. “What do you hear?”
Giving it a moment of thought, Freddy nodded to himself. He looked the sculptor dead in the eye and sucked air through gritted teeth. “I think sculpting sounds boring as hell.”
“Attaboy.” The man gave him a hearty clap on his arm. “Now get the hell out of my workshop and go do something you’re actually interested in.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
He had been slated to meet a number of tutors for random activities that week.
He cancelled all of them.
Instead, he browsed his tablet, searching through the different advertisements and promotions until he finally found something that caught his eye.
Three steps into one of the passages beneath Starhold was a large C-class realm. It was a dead end, with only two other passages, both being smaller than a football. The realm itself had been purged of all monsters and cultivated into a picturesque resort.
Entry into the resort was pretty cheap. Well, relatively. It required a monthly subscription of around a hundred thousand dollars, which was a negligible cost for Freddy. Inside, there were parks, outdoor cafes, restaurants, golf courses, and a number of other, mostly relaxing attractions.
And the best part?
Peacocking was strictly forbidden.
No badges. No flashing auras. No harassment.
Granted, the rather powerful three-star guards who enforced these rules were a bit of an eyesore, but it was better than the alternative.
This place quickly became a part of Freddy’s daily routine. He’d spend about two hours a day there, mostly lounging in the cafes and eating. Given that his stomach was a bottomless hole, he ended up spending enough money on food and drinks to justify upgrading his membership.
He often left with a headache. And a smile on his face.
Those two first weeks flew by before he even realized it, and that was when things started getting a bit… frustrating. For starters, traffic in Starhold was an experience Freddy would liken to torture. And he’d been through literal torture, so it wasn’t an opinion he held lightly. He soon learned that there was no such thing as a “driver’s license” for the many maniacs who drove their murder machines as if they were the only ones on the road.
The fact that so many vehicles were heavily armored came as no surprise once Freddy learned just how common accidents were. Being out on those streets was a matter of life and death. The cars remained parked in his garage for the most part, and he opted for motorcycles, which at least gave him a better chance of dodging. Not that that was enough.
He got into a pretty nasty accident as a speeding lunatic caught him at a turn. If he had been any less durable, he’d have been meat paste. The driver had the gall to get angry at him, which was quickly settled once Freddy drew attention to the violet badge on his chest. He got a nice little settlement out of the incident, even if he would have preferred not to waste time on the whole process.
The many classes he was taking finally got underway.
And he had no talent for any of them.
He was utterly tonedeaf, and according to his painting instructor, he had the “creativity of a blind accountant,” whatever that meant.
Still, he persisted. He wasn’t exactly trying to pursue a career in any of the stuff he was learning, so he didn’t care if he was great. His ego cared a lot, but he tried to channel that into getting better rather than getting angry.
He left his evenings open and tried his best not to just morph into a couch potato. He failed more often than not, but those nights where he mustered the motivation, he usually hung out with Vlad. Either that or he paid a visit to the arena—but only in the regular VIP area, like a peasant.
It wasn’t like he was going to go broke any time soon. But even then, with every cent less in his bank account, an unshakable anxiety built up, slowly creeping up on him, making it harder to fall asleep.
Speaking of sleep, his soul therapist had an interesting take on it. “Sleep is good for the body and mind, sure. For the soul, though? It doesn’t do much. You’re objectively better off being awake as long as humanly possible since that’s when you actually experience stuff. How much do you sleep these days?”
“About four hours a day or so.”
The therapist nodded, jotting something down. “I’ll prescribe you some medicine that will help you cut that down to say… two and a half.” He squinted. “Just make sure you heal every time you wake up.”
He was handed a bottle of nameless pills.
Taking one knocked him out cold for just over two hours, and gave him… wet nightmares was perhaps the best way to describe them.
It didn’t take long for Freddy to develop a strong aversion to tentacles.
After about three weeks of casually researching the local dungeon scene, he finally opted to actually participate in an auction.
There were several auction houses scattered throughout Starhold, some neutral, some directly under a major faction. The ATA had one, too, but no access tickets were ever sold there.
Freddy picked one at random, and buckled in for some bidding. He found himself in a private room, throwing numbers at a tablet. He was confused about what he was even seeing, but after a while of bidding, he finally found the button that showed the current ranking, including both the top and his own bid.
TOP BID: Steven S - $5,400,000 ($1,350,000 + 300%)
YOUR BID: $5,300,000
Sitting there, he gaped in absolute shock as he processed what he was seeing. The number danced before his eyes, taunting him with its sheer ridiculousness. “Are you fucking serious!? Three-hundred percent bonus!? What the fuck!?” He pressed his fingers to his temples, blinking slowly and hoping he would see something else. “Nope, still there.” He laughed in pure disbelief. “This is ridiculous!”
The dungeon in question offered an average profit of about six million dollars per clear. In short? There was no way for Freddy to win this auction. Sure, he could throw a crap ton of money at it and probably get the ticket, but he’d spend way more than he could possibly earn back, while this Steven S guy could comfortably double his current bid. “Unbelievable.”
Giving up, he walked out of the private room and made his way to the closest employee. “Hey, excuse me—” He asked about the bonuses and whether there was a way for him to get one.
The woman nodded along while trying not to stare at Freddy like he was a moron. “Bidding bonuses are predominantly reserved for Golden Sword members and allies. If you wish to acquire one without joining the company, you can contact our contractual labor department to see whether you qualify for a special job.”
Freddy nodded, got their number, and did so.
The jobs on offer were literally insane. The safest thing on the list that could earn him a permanent 50% bonus was delving into a mystery instance dungeon that nothing was known about. Even if it weren’t for the soul damage, he would be a lot more likely to die than not in a place like that.
“Thank you for the information.” He ended the call. “You goddamn degenerates.”
His experience in the other auction houses wasn’t much better. The least unfair place he discovered was one that capped bidding bonuses at a conservative 80%. The downside? Most of the dungeons that were bid on were extremely high quality, and were considered cream of the crop for elite two-stars and early three-stars. Not even Freddy was super thrilled about delving those entirely by himself.
He also spotted the Mountain Pass Dungeon on the list. The bids for that one were absolutely insane. So much so that he felt a bit guilty for not passing his good friend a share of the profits. “I’ll have to treat him to a couple of drinks.”
After making the rounds through every auction house in the city, he finally stepped foot in the one he had been avoiding until now—the Pale Moon auction house. Yes, the same Pale Moon that had robbed him of his organ business.
Gritting his teeth, he forced himself inside. While he hated the idea of giving these bastards any of his hard-earned money, he wanted to make sure he left no stone unturned.
It took one bid to make him regret his decision.
YOUR BID: $50,000 ($100,000 - 50%)
For the briefest of moments, he was elated to see the bonus. This was the first auction house where he even had one. No doubt, they knew who he was, and they knew those organs were his. He wasn’t thrilled that they knew his identity, but he wasn’t surprised, either. Perhaps they felt guilty about shafting him so hard, and decided to extend a small favor as a way to say “It was just business, nothing personal.”
And then it sank in.
His bonus wasn’t plus fifty percent.
It was minus fifty percent.
He just barely managed to stop himself from punching the screen and tearing the entire room up. The ever-spiteful voice in the back of his mind told him this was probably what they were aiming at. If he went on a rampage, they might very well use it as an excuse to kill him, just to make sure he never came back one day in the future, maybe after a talent upgrade or two, and tanked their no-doubt lucrative venture.
“So that’s how you want to play, huh?”
If they wanted things to get personal, he would make them personal.
Leaving with as much composure as he could muster, he noted a pang of insanity from an inconspicuous man standing in one of the halls. He stood there, leaning against the wall, clad in a black suit, his hair combed over to one side. Freddy glanced at him. This man had been observing him. And he no doubt also knew about the rumor Freddy had purposefully spread about how spying on him was impossible.
The man didn’t look away as he met Freddy’s gaze. Instead, he smirked, and then bowed with all-too-much pomp. “Hope you enjoyed your stay, Mr. Stern.”
“Fuck you, too, buddy.” Freddy walked past him. “Fuck you, too.”
The days continued passing by, with Freddy redirecting his focus to the arts.
At first, he seriously struggled, especially with music. He couldn’t read sheet music, so he had a good deal of catching up to do. With the power of a two-star brain, it shouldn’t have taken long to get a hold of the basics. And it didn’t, kind of. He learned how to read sheet music pretty quickly, but reading sheet music and reading sheet music were two different things.
Being able to look at a note and know what note it was was one thing. Being able to accurately hit those same notes on an instrument, on tempo, was another thing altogether.
For Freddy, it felt like he was trying to use a part of the brain he simply didn’t have.
But then one day, things suddenly changed.
It was another violin lesson, like any other. The older lady, who was always dressed sharply and stood as upright as a rod, had just arrived at his apartment.
“Mrs. Pesk! You’re here!”
“Unfortunately,” she snipped, marching past him. “Hurry up and start already.”
“Not even a hello?” he asked with a shit-eating grin.
“Mr. Stern, there are countless worthwhile talents I could be nurturing at this moment. Can you blame me for being a little sour that I have to waste time on you?”
“Well, I mean, you don’t have to…”
She scoffed. “Alas, someone has to put my ungrateful grandchildren through the academy. If it weren’t for idiots with deep pockets such as yourself, I would be in real trouble.” Freddy snorted, and the old lady, shaking her head with the hint of a smile, gestured at the stand he’d set up in the middle of the room, book open on the simple tune Freddy was trying to learn. “And please, do try to learn something today.”
“Can’t make any promises on that front, but I’ll try my best.”
They got started, with Freddy showcasing what little progress he managed since the last lesson they had. Shaking her head in exasperation, the woman got started with correcting him. “Your technique is way off. Pay careful attention to my movements.” She played the piece, but before long, she halted. “You are far too focused on the violin. Look at me, Freddy.”
“I am!” he retorted defensively.
“No, you’re not. I can see in your eyes that you’re lost, looking for something that isn’t there.” She took a frustrated sigh. “How about this—think of me as an opponent you’re fighting to the death, instead.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her.
She rolled her eyes. “What? You have to pay close to your enemy’s movements, do you not? If you can use that skill to predict how someone will try cutting your head off, surely you can glimpse something about how not to molest a violin!”
Chuckling at her words, he took her advice. “Okay, sure. Get started.”
She fixed her posture, raising the violin in place, and got started.
At that moment, something finally clicked. It was like a piece he’d been desperately looking for finally slid into place.
As soon as she finished playing through the short section, he gestured at her. “Can you please do that again?”
“All right.” She repeated.
He nodded at her, raising the bow and recreating exactly what she did. The piece didn’t quite sound exactly the same as how it did when she played, but it was close enough to leave the woman gaping in shock. “That actually worked?”
Snickering, he shrugged at her. “I don’t know, I guess things just kind of slid into place when I thought of it like that. I’d almost say it's easy now that I know what I’m looking for!”
He could see her jaw tighten, and he immediately regretted his arrogance. “Easy, huh?” She set the instrument again, and this time, she played something else, clearly trying to show just how much work he had—
Wait a minute.
She finished playing an incredibly quick, mechanically intensive composition that left her with a thin sheet of sweat upon her forehead. “Should be easy enough for you, no?”
Doing his best to keep the grin off his face—and failing miserably—he set the violin, and well…
He repeated exactly what she did. Again, slightly off. But only slightly.
By the time he was done, he saw the woman gaping at him, eyes wide open in abject shock. “Holy crap!” She put a hand to her mouth, clearly surprised at the words that just escaped her, before turning back to him with an inquisitive look. “How?”
“Well I just repeated what you did?” he retorted smugly, playing up the confusion as if he didn’t understand what she was so shocked about.
“Do you have any idea how many extremely precise movements go into playing like that?”
“I do,” he said severely, feeling the smugness evaporate somewhat. “I’ve got great perception. Pretty much perfect control of my body. As long as I see what you’re doing, I can copy it. I just haven’t thought to do that before since I, uh…”
“Never used that skill for anything other than combat?”
“Right.” He smiled half-heartedly at her. “Things should go a lot faster now, I think.”
“Should they, really?” She smiled, pointing at the sheet music on the stand. “Play this, then.”
He stared at her. “You know I can’t do that.”
“I do. Because you can’t play the violin. Don’t get me wrong, your ability to copy playing on that level is beyond impressive, but if that’s all you can do, you’re hardly better than a recording crystal. You told me you are learning music as part of healing your soul, correct?”
He nodded.
“Well, we will continue learning music, then. And that involves making it part of you, growing your mind and your body to understand it, and not just robotically replicate a series of movements. Now, from the top—”
He finished the lesson sounding a bit more pleasant than usual, and his tutor left with a satisfied smile upon her face. The next time she arrived, she looked quite a bit happier to be there.
Freddy shared his revelation with his other tutors as well.
First, his piano instructor.
“Holy fuckin’ shit, dude, that’s awesome!” His piano teacher was a mildly neurotic man who came to every lesson drunk. Despite the fact that his face looked rather young, his hairline was rapidly receding. Coupled with him constantly scratching himself everywhere, he made for a pretty striking, if bizarre figure. “Guess I’ll just show you a couple hundred songs and send you on your way, then!”
Freddy hesitated for a moment before sharing the violin teacher’s perspective with the man.
The instructor blew a raspberry and made a thumbs down motion. “She talkin’ mad bullshit, dawg. All that theory is there to teach you how to play like this. If you can just skip it, why wouldn’t you? I know I wouldn’t have bothered with all those years of work if I could do that.”
“I mean… She has a point about it being good for soul healing.”
“Soul healing? You know what else is good for the soul? Getting your dick wet.” He snickered. “And you wanna know what gets bitches in my bed?” He rubbed his finger on the bald part of his head while making squeaky noises. “It ain’t my fuckin’ hairline, that’s for sure. It's the fact that I can shred like a motherfucker.”
“You know you can get that fixed pretty cheap, right?” Freddy said, gesturing at the man’s hairline.
The instructor looked at him with abject disgust. “And give one of those life archs consent to fiddle with my body? No thank you, amigo. Besides”—he gave Freddy a sour look—”you know they can instantly give you cancer if you let their essence in, right?”
Freddy gave the man a flat look. “I’m pretty sure nobody will do that to you.”
“I dunno, man! Intrusive thoughts are a bitch! I know I’d give it to someone sooner or later, and I don’t want to be part of some freak statistic.”
Freddy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Look, dawg,” the instructor grabbed the beer, which he’d rudely put on the extremely expensive grand piano, “if you want to go through all that trouble with learning theory and allat, I have no intention of stopping you. But don’t be fooled by that elitist crap. Jackoffs like that hag are mad that they can’t do what you can! They make it all sound deeper than it really is to make themselves feel better!
“I’m not gonna do that to you. Let’s do it like this—let her teach you the ropes or whatever, and let me show songs you can copy. I guarantee you that by the time I’m done, you will understand the piano a hundred times better than the violin. Whadda you say?”
Exasperated, Freddy gave a shrug of acknowledgement. “Sure. I guess…”
“Brilliant. Let's get started then.”
At first, Freddy thought his newly discovered cheat would be useless for singing and painting. And he was sort of correct. For singing, it was utterly worthless. Even if he was getting better at discriminating between different notes, hitting them was still out of his reach.
But for painting?
The skinny, short woman nodded at the sight of him repeating her strokes with exact precision. “That’s incredible!”
Freddy was on a rooftop of one of the larger buildings, where many others were sitting scattered about and painting. He sat towards the middle beside
“Yeah, but all I can really do with this is copy you.”
“This will be perfect for learning strokes and lines. We just have to figure out a way to squeeze some juice out of this lemon!” She rapped the top of his head with her knuckles. “Landscapes should be easy once you have some technique under your belt!”
They continued the lesson, mostly focusing on having him replicate strokes until they were seared into his muscle memory.
And then, finally, he showed off in front of his guitar instructor.
“Do not do that ever again, okay?” The man insisted, hand raised palm out in Freddy’s direction. He was a very ostrichy person, with a long neck. a thin beard, and beady eyes, clad in a black turtleneck sweatshirt and blue jeans. “I do not disrespect you. Did I ever disrespect you? I didn’t. So why would you do that to me, huh?”
“Okay, sorry, jeez…”
“Okay, sorry, jeez,” he repeated mockingly. “That is all you have to say? I want a proper apology.”
Freddy bit back the urge to smack the man on his head. “I apologize for overstepping your boundaries. Is that good enough?”
The man scoffed. “Do not do that again. I do not teach thieves, okay? You can learn how to play on your own. Don’t steal, okay? That’s bad. Just because you can do it, doesn’t mean you should.” He looked like he was about to drop it, but then abruptly continued, “You know, some people worked really hard to get somewhere in life. I get it, you’re young and strong and have a fancy talent, but don’t be rude. Now raise your guitar and learn properly!”
Freddy strongly entertained the idea of finding a new tutor, but he decided to stick with this guy. For starters, he was a very good teacher. But the main reason was curiosity. He wanted to see how he would progress in guitar compared to the other two instruments. It was far from the most scientific of experiments, but he thought it would be fun to see the difference.
The weeks continued passing by.
With every passing day, Freddy made a slightly greater compromise for what kind of dungeon he wanted to get access to. Before long, he found himself joining the auctions for dungeons “suitable for an advanced two-star party.”
The first dungeon he delved was an extremely common variant of a resetting dungeon—a resource cache.
Resetting dungeons were periodically restored to the exact same state. Most things couldn’t be taken out of such dungeons, as they would just crumble into nothingness, with the “reward” being the exception. But while in some dungeons, the reward was singular and only attainable once the dungeon was “finished,” others offered a number of things that could be taken out.
At times? Literally everything.
And when the dungeon reset, everything could be taken out again, generating practically infinite resources.
In most cases, however, the reward wasn’t everything inside, but just one specific kind of resource. Like an ore, or lumber, or stone, or in the case of the dungeon he got access to, something a bit more specific.
Freddy made his way to the passage into the dungeon. There was an airlock between the outside world and the dungeon within, and the reason for it became readily obvious as soon as he walked inside.
“God, this place sucks,” he muttered as he walked into the thick grey haze. It stunk of rotten egg, and given by the burning sensation in his throat and lungs, it was more than a little poisonous.
He took a look across the rocky flats, quickly spotting his targets. Short brushes grew sporadically throughout the dungeon, a shimmering yellow fruit growing upon their branches, with large, bipedal abominations of flesh standing guard around them.
Those fruits were the reward. They were an ingredient for poison-affinity elixirs. Not that Freddy cared what they did. He only cared about the fact that every single of the many dozens of fruits growing on the brush went for thousands of dollars at the very least.
Freddy took the large sledgehammer out of his storage ring, swinging it over his shoulder.
Chaos Hammer: +8% hearing acuity, Chaotic Essence Burst (29% efficiency)
The shaft was long, unwieldy, and took the form of a somewhat gnarled branch. The head itself was pretty much just a rock attached to the said shaft. It had strong ties to the concept of chaos, which was the reason why it offered such a random bonus.
As for its active effect, well—
Freddy imbued the hammer with water essence and slammed it into the ground. It made a small splash on impact. The water behaved strangely, floating back and forth, with some drops eroding the stone they touched. The effect was pathetically underwhelming. At 29% efficiency, it only had roughly 29% of the power of a stage 0—0% water-affinity spell that cost the same amount of essence.
Thankfully, this number would go up with use, but for now, water would be of no use.
He sighed. He repeated the same thing with perished water, and nothing happened. “I have to actually hit water with this one so that’s a dud.” The same thing happened with the blood essence, but this wasn’t a problem. It just meant when he wounded something, whatever blood came out would have a number of chaotic effects applied to it. Even if it became just slightly acidic or poisonous, it would be enough.
The Cycle Scythe moved across his skin as it wrapped the hammer up. Out of curiosity, Freddy repeated the test with blood essence.
A small smile crossed his lips.
The omnibleed effect kicked in, making the stone bleed, and the chaotic essence found its target, latching onto it. There was a splash and a sizzle, one that was quite a bit more powerful than Freddy expected. His smile widened. “Don’t tell me…”
It appeared that Blood Synergy worked on the hammer, giving the efficiency a much needed boost.
He took a deep breath of the stinky air, and this time, it smelled as lovely as a spring breeze. The only thing that ruined it was the Cycle Scythe’s incessant cackling.
With a pep to his step, Freddy made his way to the nearest trio of flesh abominations guarding a brush. All it took was one good smack up the head, and all three were down for the count, leaving their respective brushes open to plundering.
It made for easy money. Too easy, in fact. Most of his time there was spent carefully plucking and storing fruit. He made out with a solid three million dollars for his efforts.
Day after day, he nabbed tickets to similarly difficult dungeons. He felt more at ease now that he was finally earning enough money to offset his spending, but he quickly ran into a massive problem.
The dungeons he was running were way, way too easy. For anyone else, this would be no problem.
For Freddy, boredom was a matter of life and death.
The second time he ran the poison fruit dungeon, he passed out half-way through.
By the time he woke up, he found half his body missing, with one of the fleshy abominations munching on him, struggling to chew through his extremely tough flesh.
“Leviathan’s Fury!” he shouted in a panic.
The bone jaws of a leviathan ripped the fleshy creature to shreds, leaving Freddy to struggle with the spark of undeath until he healed enough to get back to his feet.
That was the last time he ran a boring dungeon twice.
Finding better targets, however, was easier said than done.
He had hope for one that was meant to be run by a 20-person party. It was a pretty classic dungeon setup, with several chambers leading to a final room with a “boss” monster.
There were two problems—one, the main challenge was the sheer volume of enemies. Any ordinary party would have their essence drained by the time they reached the final room. This was no problem for Freddy.
And the “boss monster”?
“Twisted Pendulum,” Freddy muttered, waiting at the entrance of the room for the penalty to pass. As soon as time sped up, he marched inside.
The skull-headed demon thing sat on a throne, holding a massive sword in one hand.
It didn’t even have the chance to get up before Freddy jumped at its head and blew it to smithereens with a swing of the hammer. His reward was a pretty neat cursed sword that gave a moderate strength boost. He sold it for a respectable fifty million.
Sadly, he could only run this dungeon once.
Slowly, he packed his roster of easy but stimulating dungeons, focusing on those that were the least tedious. It didn’t take long for him to secure a rotation of about 20 dungeons he could easily get a ticket for. At times, he delved as many as seven dungeons a day. This was the most he could fit without pushing other things out.
Months passed.
One day, Freddy got a strange letter in the mail. It was from the Dungeoneering Certification Department, urging him to visit their office as soon as he had the chance.
He was a bit nervous on his way there, but it ultimately proved to be unnecessary.
He walked out with a golden badge, and a platinum one.
The golden badge was the third-ranked Dungeoneer badge, awarded to him for fully completing 250 dungeons suitable for his level. He disagreed that any of the dungeons he ran were of suitable difficulty for him, but the suitability was based on rank, not actual power. Either way, he wasn’t going to say no to a shiny new badge.
The platinum badge was the fourth-ranked Solo Dungeoneer badge, which was awarded for 250 full solo completes of dungeons suitable for his level.
He felt that both of these would be seeing a couple more upgrades in the years to come.
In fact, it didn’t take long for the number to cross 1000, landing him a cool new fourth- and fifth-ranked badge.
Before he even realized what was happening, a whole year had passed since he arrived at Starhold. His soul damage had healed quite a bit, his bank account had ballooned to nearly a hundred billion dollars.
He had plans for his physique-improving ring that required his soul to heal, so that hadn’t budged much, but the hammer?
Chaos Hammer: +41% hearing acuity, Chaotic Essence Burst (312% efficiency)
Freddy had put the thing through the wringer, and at that point, it was barely even growing anymore. The Chaotic Essence Burst function made for a pretty punchy effect when used with blood essence, and the boost to hearing acuity was at a level where any scout strong enough to carry the hammer would kill to have it.
This thing was worth a lot more now than when he first bought it, and he planned on trading it for something more suitable when he finally regained the use of his abilities.
As cool as it was, it was still outclassed by Sanguine Avenger, and that gap would grow exponentially when Freddy reached the third star.
Overall, he felt great about nearly everything.
There was just one small thing that was bothering him—
“Freddy,” Vladimir called in a voice that made Freddy flinch. The man had been busy doing his fair share of delving. The pristine skin Sophia had left him with was now marred with a number of fresh scars, some rather nasty. He’d even lost half his hand at one point and had it reattached, with the part where it’d been cut clearly visible.
They were out for another night of drinking at a club, just two dudes chilling in a private booth with expensive booze, very pointedly lacking the presence of anyone else.
“Yeah?”
“Have you gotten laid yet?”
Freddy winced. “I uh…”
“So that’s a no.”
Freddy scratched the underside of his jaw. “Look, it’s just—”
“I’ve heard all your excuses by this point, and I’m tired of it.” The man sighed. “I have to ask… Are you absolutely sure you’re not gay?”
“Dude!”
“What? I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with that!”
“I’m positively sure that I’m a hundred percent straight, okay? It’s just…”
“Spare the excuses; I’ve already heard all of them at this point. It’s either your soul, or you’re ‘too busy,’ or whatever. We both know you’re stalling, I just can’t for the life of me figure out why.”
Freddy paused for a long moment. “You know what? Fuck it.” He got up. “Let’s go out and mingle.”
Vlad stared at him for a long moment. “You’re serious!?” He rushed to his feet, dragging Freddy out before he could change his mind. “Finally!”
Freddy laughed at the man’s antics.
Inside, he was screaming.
He had made a pretty bold declaration for someone who had absolutely no clue how to approach a woman.
They swapped their spot for a lounge right in the middle of the club. Vladimir made a huge order while Freddy silently panicked in his corner, mentally searching through his storage ring.
Vladimir noticed the lost look on Freddy’s face and tapped him on the shoulder, leaning in to whisper into his ear. “Do the Dungeoneer badge.”
Freddy raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”
The man nodded. “It’s impressive without being too intimidating. You don’t want to look unapproachable.”
Freddy nodded, his heart hammering in his chest as he took the badge out and slapped it to his shirt. “Okay. What do we do now?”
Vladimir stared at him. “What do you mean?”
Blinking at the man in confusion, he made a broad gesture at the table. “The girls?”
“Oh! That’s easy!” Vladimir turned, putting his fingers in his mouth and whistling at a couple of women dancing nearby.
Freddy frantically tugged on his arm. “Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaait dudewhatthehellareyoudoing!?”
Vladimir laughed. “What? You want to just sit here and wait for someone to come? We aren’t fishing, my guy.”
Releasing an extremely anxious breath through pursed lips, Freddy reluctantly released the death grip on Vlad’s shirt and leaned back, heart pounding in his chest.
The man went back to trying to attract attention while Freddy subtly shifted away from him, trying his best to sink into the background. His eyes unwittingly scanned the nearby crowd of dancers, and a moment later, his eyes met two beautiful brown orbs staring back at him.
An absolutely stunning brunette woman was looking his way, a flirty smile on her face as she played with the straw, slowly stirring the cocktail in her hands.
Huh?
She took a sip from her drink, biting her lower lip afterwards. Her head tilted quizzingly in his direction, and she pointed at his table.
He could barely keep his thoughts straight as the sound of his heart hammering in his chest overpowered the music, leaving him staring dumbly at the woman. A few moments later, he gathered himself and made a series of clumsy motions that someone might possibly interpret as approval.
The girl in question chuckled and waved to someone. A second later, three very attractive women made their way to their table.
Vladimir took a triple take as they made their way over to Freddy’s side of the table. “Are you kidding me?”
Freddy shrugged.
Vlad clicked his tongue and sighed. “I really need a glow-up.”
The night proceeded about as smoothly as it could. The brunette made it abundantly clear that she was into Freddy, and it didn’t take particularly long for the conversation to reach the point where they were discussing whether to go to Freddy’s place or hers.
Eventually, they walked out of the club hand in hand, her laughing at some stupid joke Freddy made. They walked about a single block before Freddy suddenly came to an abrupt stop.
“Hmm? Is everything okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, yeah…” He scowled. “I’m sorry.” He removed his hand from hers, nearly in a panic. “I’m really sorry.”
“Okay…?” She chuckled nervously. “What the fuck is happening right now?”
“I’m just sorry, okay? Maybe some other time, I just… I really have to go.” He marched away, heart pounding in his chest. As soon as he entered his apartment, he sat down against the door, and laughed. “What the actual fuck is wrong with me?”
This wasn’t the last time something like this happened.
Several more times, Vladimir and Freddy went out. With Freddy’s looks and the prestige of a fourth-ranked badge, it really didn’t take long for someone to take an interest in him, but every time, just as things were reaching their natural conclusion, he felt all enthusiasm abandon him, and before he even realized what he was doing, he was distancing himself from the situation.
One particularly enthusiastic girl even earned herself a splash of vodka to the face, courtesy of a panicked Freddy who was looking for any way to get her off him so he could run away.
“Okay dude,” Vladimir said, concern evident in his eyes. “I think it's high time you mentioned this to the soul therapist.”
Freddy reluctantly nodded.
The next meeting, he brought up the problem he was having. And he felt the reason for his behavior was pretty obvious, so he brought up what happened between him and Beatrice, speculating that it had traumatized him.
The soul therapist didn’t have the reaction Freddy thought he would. “Who told you that?”
Freddy halted. “Well, a friend of mine mentioned I might be…”
“Is this friend a qualified mental health professional?”
“No?”
“Then that’s not a diagnosis, that’s just speculation. Please refrain from diagnosing yourself with anything before you actually talk to someone who knows what they’re talking about. What’s next, you’re gonna declare that you’re autistic? Spoiler alert…” He nodded. “It’s possible.”
“Sorry, what?”
“Look, I can tell you with absolute certainty you are not traumatized. Oh, I’m sure that was a bad experience, but trauma is a very specific thing, and it includes a certain degree of concrete harm to your brain. With your talent, you literally can’t have clinical trauma. Sub-clinical… maybe, but really, that’s just called a bad memory, and those are perfectly normal.”
“Uhm… Can we circle back to that last thing you said?”
“Get tested if you’re curious.” The doctor waved him off, moving the chair closer to him and leaning forward. “I’m more interested in why you keep pushing women away.” The man crossed his fingers and leaned his chin on them, squinting at Freddy’s face. “There is something here, for sure.” He abruptly got up, cupping his chin in contemplation. “Something very important to you as a person.”
Freddy swallowed, feeling anxious.
The soul therapist walked in circles around him. “It’s possible that you’re just a misogynist."
“What!? I-I don’t hate women!”
“You sure? I mean think about it… The moment a woman shows an interest in sleeping with you, you want to bail? That’s pretty suspicious to me. But oh well, it could be something else…” He continued walking in circles, swinging his head side to side. “Perhaps you’re just naturally uncomfortable with the idea of casual sex? That could be the case. Or maybe you have a very specific idea of how this is supposed to go?
“Mayhaps you have the expectation that you need be the one to make the moves, to woo and sway the reluctant maiden until she buckles and finally accepts you with open arms? These women… What if they’re just too easy in your eyes? Now we’re circling back to misogyny.”
Freddy groaned, burying his face in his hands and deeply regretting even bring this topic up.
The soul therapist sat back down on the chair. “Or perchance… No, I think I know what this is. I know you pretty well, so I’m positive that a part of it is simply because you don’t have any real experience with women, and you’re naturally prone to shame. Jumping right into the deep end is obviously going to be overwhelming. But there’s more to it than that.” A devious smile split the man’s face. “I think you’re in love.”
Freddy gave the man a flat look. “Okay, now you’ve completely lost me. That’s just ridiculous! Who exactly would I even be in love with?”
“Your fiancée.”
He halted at that. “No.”
“Why not?”
“For starters, I’m already absolutely sure that I will never have any kind of real relationship with that woman.”
“And that stops you from being hopelessly in love… how, exactly?”
A sense of indignance bubbled up in Freddy as he chuckled. “No. Dude, no,” he said sternly. “Just no.”
Rather than say anything, the soul therapist just grinned harder at him.
“That’s ridiculous,” he said again. His heart suddenly dropped for some reason. “There is no way.” Leaning forward, he pressed his fingers to his temples, trying to push back the headache that was starting to bubble up.
For the next five minutes, he simply stayed like that, eyes bloodshot as he failed to rationalize his way out of the situation. “Oh my fucking god,” he muttered, horror evident in his expression.
“I’m in love with Emily Umbra.”