The door at the opposite end opened. A human-sized figure emerged. Pale green skin, spindly fingers, and an abnormally large head. Just like the goblins. But, five foot five or so, with a silhouette mostly the same as any man. Two tusks protruding out of its mouth, curling from the top of its jaw and upwards. Eyes that burned with hatred. A ragged set of animal skin trousers. It advanced at a walk, unlike the mindless rush of the goblins. The footfall of each stride made a dull thunk on the wooden floors. He remembered this situation too. The terror he had felt at the inevitability of its arrival. How he had struggled for his life, crying as he wrestled with the thing, desperately avoiding its tusks. It had been stronger than him, but somehow in the struggle, he'd ended up on top, and using his weight had managed to suffocate it. This time though, he had a weapon.

The orc assumed a fighting stance as it neared. Frank simply held out his makeshift spear, pointing it directly at the orc's chest. It started to circle him, scoping him out as it probed for an opening. A slight step closer, to see how Frank reacted but never getting close enough that Frank could stab at him. Frank, in comparison, simply stood, knees bent, his back to the corner, turning his body just enough to stay centred on the orc. His short, cobbled together spear held low and easy. Just looking at the face of the thing, he could see the hate it felt for him. Frank knew from how its eyes smouldered and its face gradually warped into a scowl that he was more patient than it. Which was good. There was a time limit, even though the System didn't bother to warn anyone until they had a minute left. If Frank had to move forward, then the orc could attempt to get around him.

Eventually, it feinted to his left and then dove low, attempting to get around and under the spear. The orc was graceful and quick, but the absolute advantage of a weapon combined with walls limiting its angles of approach made the difference. It took a knife to the gut for its trouble, and from experience, Frank knew that wound would bleed the creature out eventually. He let go of the spear as he felt the weight of the orc's body wrenching it out of his hands, sliding past the orc to his left simultaneously. The pain of getting stabbed in the abdomen prevented the orc from taking the opportunity to grab his leg. Instead, the orc's body clipped his right leg, and he spun away staggering, kept upright only by the fact he'd put his weight on his left before the impact. Frank recovered his balance and moved away, turning to see his foe attempt to stand.

The uncontrolled landing, brought about by the pain of the knife inside him, had caused the blade to wriggle about as the stick the knife was attached to slammed into the ground and snapped under the orc's weight. Blood spurted out at rapid intervals, matching the heartbeat of the creature. It looked at the wound, then back at Frank, safely away from it. It stood up ponderously, the agony of the wound exacerbated by the engagement of the muscles around it. It gasped in pain, its voice a low grunt. It started shambling towards him, but Frank simply moved further back. It moaned, and in that cry, Frank sensed the same frustration, agony, and hopelessness he'd heard in the voices of so many fallen comrades. It humanized his dying foe, forcing the consideration that it had all the same feelings, hopes, fears, as a human might. Maybe this was its tutorial, and its hatred was because it assumed Frank was a construct of the System that had just put it in two life or death situations.

It made Frank feel ill. Even the slaughter he'd been through never changed that. Whenever he had killed something capable of thinking, the moment he had a moment to consider that fact, he felt like puking. The orc stared at him. He saw the subtle change in Frank's face, and Frank felt that the orc came to the same realization Frank just had. The orc screamed then, though Frank would never find out why. Falling to his knees, doomed by the wound in his stomach, the orc cried out. And then, with the same willpower that allowed him to stand up and stumble towards Frank, he grasped the broken end of the stick and pulled the knife out of him. The lack of a stopper caused the blood to gush out even faster. Frank just watched, suppressing the urge to vomit.

Did the orc want Frank to see? Was the display he had put on, the yell, a consequence of the knowledge of a witness, or simply the necessary working up to take an action to end his suffering sooner? Frank had no answers for that. The orc slowly lost strength as his blood pooled around him. Soon, he could no longer support himself, and he lay on his back, the blood oozing wetly from the wound in his stomach with the slowing pulse of his heart. At some point, the System decided him incapacitated, and a message appeared.

Young Orc incapacitated. 20 EXP awarded. For completing a tutorial without taking damage, awarded a Crappy Gambeson. For meeting the same bonus condition twice in a row, awarded 5EXP. The next tutorial begins in 10:00.

A piece of equipment this early. Not something he couldn't replace quickly after the tutorial, but the mere fact he had it gave him an advantage. You could always tell when it was equipment and not merely a mundane item.

Of course, when the message disappeared, the Orc was gone. Its spilled blood was not, leaving a sticky pool on the floor. In front of Frank, a padded coat of linen, thick and rough, thick leather stitched in front of the vital areas. He immediately put it on, removing both his sweater and his original coat. Frank skirted the pool of blood and dropped those off in the corner with his other stuff. Although the t-shirt he still wore protected his chest back and shoulders from the scratchy linen, he could already feel his arms start to itch. It was fortunate that the hall itself was cool, the same temperature it had been outside in late October. As it was equipment, it came with a stat bonus. He brought up the description that all equipment had.

Level 2 Crappy Gambeson A padded coat of linen, its shoddy workmanship and cheap construction renders it supremely uncomfortable. Whoever commissioned it was too cheap to protect anything but the heart and forearms with leather.

+2 CON, +1 VIT, -1 AGI

Better than nothing. The loss of agility when Frank was already mediocre in that aspect hurt. Even without the bonus to constitution and vitality though, the simple physical protection it provided made it worthwhile for the moment. Next was to level up. Due to the two EXP bonuses he'd received, level three came a fight earlier. That would make things much easier from here on out. He willed himself to level up.

Congratulations! By reaching level three, deeds are unlocked. Choose a deed now, or distribute your point for levelling up.

Frank thought about choosing a deed.

Available deeds: Fighter: +3 to VIT, CON, STR, or AGI per level Mage: +3 to KNO, INT, STA, or WIS per level Wanderer: +1 to any two stats per level Unlocked by accomplishment: Assassin: +1 to INT, STR, AGI, and STA per level Survivor: + 1 to any two stats per level, -10% EXP to level

The basic three everyone he'd met had seen, and then two special deeds. He chose assassin without hesitation. All the stats were roughly equally valuable in the long term. The most stats per level was thus fundamentally the best deeds. Reduced EXP to level would never catch up completely to two more stat points per level. He wondered what the unlock requirements were. Didn't matter in the end. Frank checked his status.

Frank HP 28/28 Level 3 Human (0/80EXP) MP 0 Assassin(1/5) SP 28/28 Strength 8 Knowledge 6 Agility 5(6) Intelligence 7 Constitution 6(4) Stability 7 Vitality 6(5) Wisdom 4

That done, he looked at the pool of blood once more. His knife lay in it, completely covered. Frank walked over to it, bending down and grabbing the blade, smelling the acrid scent of puddle beneath him. His nausea, suppressed by doing necessary and useful things, came back in a wave, and he emptied his stomach, which had blessedly little in it since he had not eaten since the prior evening.

His body purged, the nausea faded. The sense of guilt stayed. It always did. Frank moved all his stuff to the opposite corner, away from the blood and vomit. Then he waited for the next tutorial.