Early on their fifth day of travel, on the border of the Bet’ital wood and the Tyrwood. The two Dwarves and Human approached their first settlement, visible for miles away because of the unnaturally flat ground.

The first thing John noticed was the abrupt beginning of a paved road in the distance, where before there was only dirt and grass.

“Vulgad, I thought you said there wasn’t a Human settlement for weeks when we first met?”

“Aye, I did say tha’ didn’t I. I ‘ad tah make sure ye weren’t some sort o’ witch in disguise. If ye ‘ad agreed wit’ me or some such. I woulda’ actually taken off yer ‘ead.”

‘I sincerely hope he’s joking… but I don’t think he was…’

That was another thing John needed to get used to. He came from a society that abhorred killers of any sort. Even justified killing was still treated with some measure of disgust. Here though…

It seemed that Cuerus was a world in which killing was far more common. More so than ancient Earth history perhaps.

‘Hehe, I’m ancient history too. Man, I could make a killing as a storyteller.’

One of the benefits John found from his rank three intelligence was his increased memory. His memory from before hell wasn’t perfect, but he wouldn’t forget whatever he did remember.

Seeing firsthand what two more ranks in an attribute could do, he could only imagine what he would do with the eight free ranks he had. As his intelligence was now, his memory was near eidetic, and the sheer processing power let him think much faster.

According to Vulgad, rank three intelligence would mean almost any magical caster would take him as an apprentice.

Despite having the system, the Dwarf also explained that intelligence, wisdom, charisma, and luck were usually rank one among the entire population. Something about those attributes being harder to raise.

Truthfully, John still didn’t understand the purpose of all the attributes. So, he turned once again to his walking encyclopedia on common knowledge.

“Vulgad, another question.”

“Hmm? Wha’ is it this time lad?”

“What do each of the attributes exactly control? I’ve pretty much figured out the basics of intelligence, but not the others.”

“Jus’ ask the system to tell ye.”

“Oh.

“Why didn’t I think about that!”

“Cause yer wisdom must be atrocious.”

“I guess it is.”

‘Well I feel dumb. System, tell me more about the attributes.’

Strength relates to how much force the muscles are able to exert.

Agility relates to how much control a user has over their body and how quickly the control may be implemented.

Intelligence relates to the processing ability of the mind, the memory, and also how much mana may be held within the body.

Endurance relates to how much damage is mitigated from external sources, the speed of aging, the recovery of Health and Stamina, and how much Stamina is drained when performing strenuous tasks.

Charisma relates to how likable the user is.

Wisdom relates to the user's ability to place information in context. Wisdom also relates to how fast mana is regained by the user, and how much control over mana is possible before skills.

Luck relates to how often outcome of events will be in favor of the user.

‘That’s pretty helpful.’

John was surprised at how general they all were, very little specific information from the system. He wondered why.

In his mind, he made sure to remember to put some of his free points into wisdom. Intelligence wasn’t everything it seemed.

And luck.

“What about luck, how do you raise it?”

“Ye don’t train it, tha’s fer sure. When ye get real lucky, those moments all add up an’ eventually might be enough fer a rank up. But its not somethin’ to invest in.”

He gave a meaningful look at Baff from behind, John and the older Dwarf let the impatient young man lead.

“Luck is only chance lad, I’d prefer to trust in me sword arm than me enemy trippin’ on a rock.”

John nodded, it made sense to him. He didn’t like to gamble. Growing up poor taught him to be careful with his money.

In a whisper came Vulgad’s next words.

“Rank two luck is already plenty fine fer even the really powerful bein’s out there.”

“That’s something else I wanna know. What level do people get to around here. Your level is 4, but you make it seem like you’re a minor player.”

“Cause I am lad. The real monsters out there… They’re walkin’ armies. Level 6 an’ up lad, there aren’t a lot o’ em, but they are not to be trifled with.”

“How do they get that high!?”

“It’s the skills an' classes lad. They all have at least legendary skills an’ classes. They give more attribute rank progression when they rank up.”

“Classes? I don’t know what those are.”

“Everyone at level two gets to choose a class based on their exploits in the first level. Ye can upgrade ‘em at level 4, 6 an’ probably onward.”

“What’s yours?”

“Usually ye don’t ask any question that don’t come up with an identify, its common courtesy lad. Seein’ as I trust ye though, I’ll tell ye.

“Me class is Axe Guardian, it comes from the class Axeman. The first class is known as tier one, the second is tier two, an’ so on.”

“And is it very rare?”

“The first one was common-4, me current is uncommon-3. Tier one classes are never more than rare. Ye also can’t ‘ave a class rarer tha’ ye rarest skill.”

“What about unique?”

“I can’t answer tha’. I jus’ don’t know.”

“Hmm, thanks anyway.”

John had a lot to think about. He didn’t really realize it till now, but after hearing how powerful some people could get, he wanted to become powerful. No longer was a good life the goal, no, he wanted a great life.

‘Rune Writing is a unique skill. I have the opportunity to probably become a somebody. I just can’t see myself wanting a quiet life anymore.’

Some habits died hard. For John, greed didn’t disappear. Greed just reimagined itself. He didn’t want money. He wanted what money could give someone.

‘Power.’

The possibilities swirled around in his head. All as the trio approached the border town.

***

“C’mon tha’ is daylight robbery! I can afford it, but ‘ow does anyone else?”

Vulgad was currently arguing with the shop owner of a small blacksmith. John and Baff wisely waited out of sight, not wanting to get caught up in the heated conversation.

“Do you have any idea how much the materials cost me for this? I need to make a profit too.”

“I don’t wanna starve ye, but wit’ these prices yer sellin’ at, I doubt yer starvin’. I wouldn’t pay that much fer this blade even it was by a Dwarven mastersmith!”

“’Course not! You Dwarves don’t know how to make anything other than axes and hammers. The most delicate things that come out of your holes in the ground is your fragile pride.”

“Oh, you take tha’ back! I’ll show ye jus’ ‘ow fragile I am! Why, I outta-“

John couldn’t let this go one any further.

Rounding the corner, he quickly called out to the Dwarf and the burly Human blacksmith that towered over him.

“Buddy, there you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

He looked up to the blacksmith.

“Sorry about my friend here. Too many days on the road y’know? Anyway, what was the argument about? I’m sure more reasonable conversation would be better for everyone. I’m John, by the way.”

The large man eyed him warily.

“Name’s Hector. Your friend here was insisting that I’ve overpriced my work. Which I haven’t! I need to cover the costs of the materials.”

“Vul, what are you trying to buy here?”

The name ‘Vul’ came about as a way of at least disguising the Dwarf’s name somewhat. Apparently, among Dwarves, Vul was like John in so far as it was very common. Vulgad was like being a Johnny in commonality. Still normal, but easier traced than John would be.

“I was tryin’ tah buy a rapier fer the lad. ‘e needs it fer ‘is trainin’.”

“And what would a weapon like that usually go for Vul?”

“No more than two silver. An’ this swindler is tryin’ to say its worth four! Unbelievable.”

John looked to the smith.

“Is that so?”

“After covering my own costs, I’m only making 25 copper for this thing. Please believe me! I’m an honest businessman.”

Vulgad cut back in.

“Then ye got ripped off by yer supplier. Ye really think ye can fool me when I see the prices on yer other works. Ye jus’ thought I was an easy mark, didn’t ye!?”

“You are not a smith then. If you were, then you’d know that none of that stuff is made with Elven steel. Something like a rapier needs the suppleness it gives. After the fall of Altharic, prices have shot way up!”

“Ah… I guess I didn’t think about tha’…”

Vulgad had at least had the dignity to look apologetic. John had an idea.

“Tell you what Hector. I will pay you five silver for your hassle, and you recommend me a good smith in Lumis I can deal with. What do you say?”

At the word ‘five’ the smith lost his irritated expression. A businessman knows to never ignore extra profits.

“Ah well, I suppose that's fair. You seem like a reasonable sort. I was apprenticed in Lumis and still travel back and forth. I wouldn’t mind being paid for some of my knowledge. I would like an apology though. Being accused of gouging my customers is bad for business.”

“Sounds good. Vul? If you would…”

“Ah, eh… Um, my sincerest apologies. Me mouth sometimes runs faster than me brain.”

Hector nodded, appeased.

“I accept your apology, forgive my strong words as well. Dwarven smiths are great at the craft. I’m afraid my mouth is a bit too fast as well.”

*Ding*

Charisma has reached rank 2!

‘What the hell? Guess I was close to ranking up. I wonder if the system counts the time before I was in hell?’

Hector turned to John. Who then promptly fished out his coin pouch given to him by Vulgad. The Dwarf had given him a few things. Among them being a new shirt, a new cloak, a medium sized pack, a better pair of boots, and some other spare garments.

In the pouch, John had his smaller denominations of coin. Thirty copper and thirty silver to cover any mundane costs. He knew that showing too much coin would only attract thieves. He knew he could easily spot his own kind after all.

'Former kind.'

Pulling out the five silver, he handed them over.

“Would now be a good time to talk Hector?”

“Give me a few minutes and I can give you some advice about my counterparts in Lumis.”

“Great. I’ll just browse your selection for a bit then.”

The burly man nodded.

‘Those are some big ass muscles. Definitely can swing a hammer…’

Vulgad inspected the rapier that John bought.

“Ye paid more tha’ it’d usually be worth, but the quality is good. Not an imperfection to be seen by me eye.”

Baff approached from where he’d been standing off to the side.

“’ere ye go Baff, I want ye to get familiar with this weapon. Ye’ll be trainin’ wit’ it like yer father did before you. We’ll see about getting’ an Elven instructor for the form.”

“Yes master. Thank you for this gift!”

Baff clearly spoke with mock sincerity. The young Dwarf had made no secret on what he thought of any weapon lighter than his axe.

John smiled. The relationship between the master and his apprentice was friendly. They were both fond of each other, even if they would never put it in words. Dwarves were stubborn like that.

The trio chatted idly for a moment among the shelves of weapons, tools, and various metal works.

Casting a shadow larger than most men had any right to have, Hector returned.

“So, what do you want to know?”

***

Later in the day, the three traveling companions walked out of the smith’s shop.

John was reflecting on what the titanic man said.

According to the smith, there were a lot of so-called master smiths in the city of Lumis. It’s nature as one of the largest cities in the world naturally attracted those with grand opinions of themselves.

Hector shared which one’s were worth the time though. All of the recommendations John received were for smaller shops that were ‘where real smithing happens’ in the words of the smith.

The place most highly spoken of was a shop by the name of ‘The Broken Anvil’. It wasn’t the most inspiring name, but Hector waved away his suspicions. He knew the man who owned the shop and called him a dear friend.

Apparently, the name was an inside joke. The owner was nearly all invested into his strength attribute and had broken every ‘normal’ anvil he’d used. So, he was one of the few smiths who possessed an enchanted anvil.

Listening in, Vulgad put his doubts on whether or not a man who was all strength was able to do detailed work.

It was good point and one the man expected. The real master smith in the shop was the man’s wife. She had a gift for the art and was able to invest in other attributes than strength because her husband provided all the muscle she needed.

John thought it sounded pretty romantic. And looked forward to meeting the couple.

It was in their farewells with the now more amicable smith that he said, ‘Tell Keliban and Ophalia ol’ Hector sent you. They will make sure whatever you need is done as good as any smith could do.’

John made sure to deeply thank the smith on their way out. The tough-looking man couldn’t keep the blush off his face, saying ‘it was nothing, really!’

Outside the town now, the trio set up camp like usual, eating beside the fire. John now had his own seat and didn’t sit on the ground.

“Vulgad, why did we come back into the Halfling’s land to camp? Couldn’t we just do it closer to the town?”

“I didn’t want to deal with the monsters. The Halflin’s keep ‘em out with wards an’ such.”

“Monsters?!”

Vulgad understood the look on John’s face.

“Ye don’t ‘ave monsters where yer from lad?”

Baff chortled.

“O’ course ‘e does! What kinda question issat?”

“I swear Baff, I don’t know what you guys are talking about. And I’d very much like to know. Vulgad?”

“Don’t bother ‘im lad, John ain’t from ‘round ‘ere. We don’t know what ‘is ‘ome is like really.

“As fer yer question, Monsters are the beasts tha’ ‘ave leveled up. Animals can do it too ye know. The more levels they get, the meaner they get. They come ‘round lookin’ fer fights, even most o’ the plant eaters. Fightin’ an’ eatin’ is ‘ow they level up.

“They can be quite dangerous.”

Baff took his turn to share with John.

“There’s even a job fer ‘untin’ ‘em. Monster ‘unters they call ‘im. They take contracts from the ‘unters guild an’ they sell ingredients fer lots o’ coin. Most monsters ‘ave valuable parts to ‘im."

John nodded with interest. Ignoring the fanboy look Baff had on his face.

“Really! So they get rich?”

“Don’t get so excited there John.”

'I think that was more meant for Baff.'

Vulgad came in as the voice of reason.

“Monster ‘untin’ is ‘ow lots o’ warriors get their start. Meself included. Tha’s ‘ow I know its an easy way to get yerself dead before yer time. Its dangerous work. For as much as ye can earn. Ye’ll always ‘ave the chance to lose more than ye gain.”

“Hmm, we don’t have any of those back in Amer- Mordor.”

John had to remember to stick to his story in front of Baff, else he would start demanding all sort of questions the Human and old Dwarf didn’t want to deflect.

Baff’s next words were accompanied with a more somber look.

“John, we part ways tomorrow. I’d like to say I liked travelin’ wit’ ye…”

He smiled at the Dwarf.

“I can say the same Baff, I can see that you’ll grow into a fine Dwarf. Although right now, you're still Baff the Bashful.”

“Bwah ha ha! Now tha’ was a good one lad. Eh, I’ll ‘ave to remember tha’ one.”

Vulgad deviously smirked at the reddening face of Baff.

“Ah forget I said anythin’ ye dumb manling!”

John laughed at the embarrassed apprentice. He had grown fond of the Dwarf in their week together.

‘I hope we will meet again Baff, I’m honored to be a friend to someone with a heart as good as yours. I hope you don’t need my help, but nonetheless, you’ll have it.