The bar was a simple two-story building made of wood with a stone chimney. It served alcohol and food while the upstairs had rooms for rent. It was a pretty standard setup as people would get too drunk to go home and if they couldn't afford a room they would sleep on the ground. The occasional traveler would look for a room around town and would often have a bite to eat or a drink before they turned in. Even with that, it wasn't the most profitable venture in a small town like this. But Tom was a bit of a multitasker. He was barkeep, innkeeper, and cook all once. He did all the work himself, had no one to pay, and gained a bunch of skills useful for life in the process.

I pushed open the front door with a loud creak as the door had rusty metal hinges. There were only four people inside the bar at this time. One sleeper at a table still hungover. Two older men who always came here early to start drinking from noon on before being picked up and dragged off by their wives before night. And then there was Tom wiping vomit off one of the tables.

"You're here earlier than usual," said Tom, stopping his work at the sound of the door.

"Yeah, I need some advice on a few things," I said while taking a seat at the table he had been cleaning. Tom sat down across from me. At slow times like this, he was more than happy to relax and chat.

"What's with your clothes? They're a different color than usual," pointed out Tom.

"I washed them today. I just haven't washed them in a while," I said, the cover story I decided to go with.

"Save the bullshit for someone who hasn't cleaned up after more than one barfight. I know what dried blood looks like. Now tell me what your first trip to the dungeon was like."

Just as I thought, he must know the story from yesterday and he's as perceptive as always. However, he's wrong on one point.

"It wasn't my first time in a dungeon I'll let you know. Ten years ago I entered the dungeon entrance in my hometown."

"So you said yesterday. You bragged about it so much that we dared you to do it again to prove it then you stormed off with a bottle of the good stuff. Your bragging kept things lively and taps were running so I gave it to you on the house. I'm glad you're back alive even though it means I lost in the bets."

"That explains everything. Entering the dungeon was one of the last great things in my life. It's one of the only things I can brag about and I can be quite stubborn when drunk. I don't actually remember the events of yesterday but I get the gist of what happened."

"Stubborn? More like gullible and easy to convince. We make you do all sorts of things when you're wasted. This time you just happened to convince yourself to do something since we didn't believe you. Now I believe you. At least I believe you went there yesterday."

"That's not how I am when... wait did you mention something about a bet earlier. Did you really bet I'd die in the dungeon?"

"Of course not. Betting on customers dying is bad business. I bet on you passing out cold on the side of the road."

"We bet on you dying," cut in one of the old men drinking off to the side. They usually keep out of conversations, but when they do say something it's always blunt and rude. It's all in good humor. What were their names again?

"Let's get back to the main topic. What do you need help with? If it has anything to do with the stains on your shirt, you're better off throwing it out and getting new clothes. Blood doesn't come out easily."

"We both know I can't afford new clothes. Besides, if I could you'd probably have me pay off my tab first."

"Heck, I'd buy you the clothes myself if you promise to help out come harvest season. You wouldn't be able to drink as much as you'd be doing lots of work, but you won't have any more debt to your name and have some pocket change."

"Can we focus on this instead," I said while pulling out the items I got from the dungeon.

Tom immediately grabbed what he was most familiar with, the bottle of alcohol. He popped its top and gave it a sniff. Then he lifted it up and drank a sip. Which is surprising as it's the first time I've seen him drink in seven years. He then set the bottle down and closed his eyes for a bit. I was worried that he fell asleep as if he was that weak to alcohol. But he opened his eyes again and inspected the bottle closely.

"As I thought, this brew is familiar. So is this bottle. The smell, the taste, and the feel of the bottle are all the same. Two years ago during the surplus harvest, I opened a bottle of this to celebrate the occasion and let everyone in the bar have a cup. You even made a ruckus about how it was the best liquor you ever tasted."

"The very same as back then? As in the dungeon took it from my memory that I can barely remember myself? Or is it some sort of coincidence. I found this in one of the dungeon's rest areas alongside a bowl of food."

"This is the first time I've heard of there being a drink other than water in a rest area. Food, on the other hand, seems to change depending on what people normally eat or are currently craving. Perhaps the same happened here but with the drink as well. Your body craved alcohol more than it craved water. Maybe we should ask Jerry about this?"

"Considering how knackered I already was, I'm not surprised at that. And no, this isn't worth getting Jerry involved."

Jerry was the resident dungeon diver in the village with some of his friends and was a bit of a prick. He was young, handsome, and capable. The only real downside to him was his prudish personality and his dislike for people who were lazy or seen as a waste of space in his eyes, like me. Honestly, asking him for advice on the stuff I found in the dungeon was probably a better bet than asking Tom, but I considered him a last resort as I would like to avoid him if at all possible.

"If you say so, but I can't help too much with the other things. This rock, whatever it is, needs to be assessed by someone who knows their metals and earth. Jeff the blacksmith should know what it is and will probably buy it off you. As for the shield, you'll need Jeoffry from the local temple to help you out. It's either cursed or divine. Which means it might be anywhere from worthless to priceless. He should be able to assess its value, not that you'd be able to pry any coins from his hands to sell it to him though. In fact, might be worthwhile trying to sell the rock first and donating coin to the temple or he might not do his job."

"Right, hopefully, that's not necessary, but I'll keep it in mind. Thanks again for helping me out Tom. If it's worth something, I can cut down my tab."

I pocketed the items and got up. Tom walked me to the door and opened the door for me when. When I tried walking past him, he grabbed my shoulder and kept me from going and looked into my eyes.

"Do not take this small success in the dungeon for granted. You can't even remember going in there so don't think you can go in there anytime without preparations again. I don't care if you owe me money for your tab, don't get yourself killed."

"I understand," I responded and he finally let me go. After that situation in the dungeon with the rat monster, I don't think I could bear going back into the dungeon. When I was drunk I somehow managed to kill multiple rat monsters without making a mess, but there's no guarantee that'll happen again. As soon as I was sober and fought just one of them, I got an arm injury and came very close to dying. The next time I approach the dungeon drunk might be my last.

The local forge, blacksmith shop or whatever it’s called was located on the outer edges of town, unlike the bar which the town was basically built around. So I had to do a bit of walking. Though most people were out in the fields, doing work, or relaxing inside to escape the midsummer heat, there were a few people walking to and fro. They moved to the side of the road as I passed, looking at me in disgust while covering their noses or glared at me. I wasn’t too well liked and it wasn’t like I actually smelled as I just took a bath. People can be so melodramatic.

At the outskirts of town, there was no one in sight but there was plenty of noise. Jeff was working on something inside. His building was the only one in town completely made of stone and brick. After all, if he used any wood the whole damn thing would probably burn down over his head. I knocked on the door as he hated people who came inside uninvited. Then waited as the sound of hammering paused for a second before resuming. Whatever he was working on, he found it more important than welcoming me in.

It wasn’t until ten or so minutes later than he shouted, “Enter.”

Blunt and straight to the point, that was how Jeff was and nothing could change that. I pushed the door open and a wave of heat and smoke hit me straight in the face. Jeff preferred his home and workplace to be constantly toasty and insulated so I closed the door behind me with a cough and watery eyes. Best to do this quick, sell the rock and get out.

Jeff was seated at a table with a three-pronged hoe in his hands. One of the prongs looked a bit distorted. Must’ve been bent out of shape and the hammering was putting it back into place. Fixing a bent hoe was cheaper than buying a new one, but I doubt it’d last much longer as the metal would be a mess without reforging the entire thing. Not that the farmer who owned it would care, he would just want something to get him through the rest of this season until he could afford a brand new one after the harvest.

“What?” asked Jeff.

In response, I pulled the rock out of my shirt and set it on his work table. He took one look at it before pulling out some coins and passing them to me. They were silver coins, enough to pay most of my bar tab if not all. And my bar tab goes back months, bless Tom’s heart. Wasn’t this a bit too much money for a hunk of unrefined metal ore.

“Pure copper ore,” he said while holding the rock in his hands and turning it over a few times.

“Is it really worth this much?” I asked while taking the coins. I don’t think I’ve ever held so much cash in my hands before, but over my lifetime I must’ve let plenty slip through my fingers.

“No, worth more. Shortage in the city. Merchant will take it for triple the pay. Pay me back by the next merchant’s stop and I’ll give it back,” he replied. That’s so like Jeff, letting me know he’s ripping me off terribly and then giving me a chance to fix that while I’m completely in the dark. Heck, he could’ve given me a single silver coin and I would’ve left, no questions asked.

I started to leave but I couldn’t help but take a look at the wall directly left of the entrance. There, Jeff put on display a variety of weapons he made in his spare time. Mostly farm tools with a few things changed and the pointy bits sharpened like axes and pitchforks, but there was a single proper weapon there, a sword. This was Jeff’s hobby, to turn spare and scrap metal into weapons that could be converted into farm tools in a time of need. People like Jerry and his gang were the only ones to buy them before they went down into the dungeon.

Maybe if I had a weapon like this sword, I could explore the dungeon freely. My hands wouldn’t shake and I could cut down those monsters before they even came close, coming back out with hands full of riches. A dream I haven’t had since I was young, but a fond memory it was to imagine myself like that again, no matter how cruel reality was.

“How impractical,” said Jeff while taking the sword off of the wall, “In the dungeon, this would last but one or two rooms before dulling in the hands of an amateur.”

“How did you know about the dungeon?” I asked.

“Pass out before reaching the door was my bet,” said Jeff. So he was in on the bet as well and lost. Could he be holding a grudge over that? Is that why he’s ripping me off? I can never tell this sort of thing with Jeff, he’s too open and empty at the same time.

Next stop was to the local temple, which wasn’t too far from here since it was designed to be close to the fields. Give them the gods blessings or something like that. It was even taller than the bar but held only one very tall floor. It had a stone floor and foundation, but the walls were made of wood. A solid foundation with a poor building.

Many residents of the town would come here to worship a god or goddess of their choosing in the early morning before work or in the late evening after supper. At noon, the building was empty save for the priest, Jeoffry, tirelessly scrubbing the floor to keep it clean as clean can be. Within a second, he straightened up and fixed his clothes as he heard me step inside, my footsteps echoing loud and clear within this large area. Upon seeing it was me, he relaxed a bit and walked over to a pedestal where he kept his holy writings.

“Finally come to seek a divine to dedicate your life to and help you with your many hardships. I can help you get started by helping you discover what they have to offer and more importantly, what you’re willing to give to them,” said Jeoffry, going on a rant about making me follow a god. He would do this to anyone who hadn’t come here to worship before. I can’t blame him for doing so since there’s little reason to come here besides that.

“No, I’m here because I have an item that may be cursed or blessed by a divine and wanted you to appraise it. I can donate if that’s necessary to get the appraisal,” I said while pulling the shield off my back.

“I cannot accept money for a service that is meant to be free. However, donations are always welcome,” said Jeoffry as he came around the pedestal and took the shield from my hands. The first thing he did was to look at the symbol and run his hand on it. In response, the symbol shimmered with light.

“On second thought, keep your donation. Being able to put my hands on a rarity such as this is enough for me. It is blessed by a god or goddess that I cannot put to name without checking the records. If it were to have certain effects, or if this divine had a knight order to its name, this shield may be worth far more than mortal currencies,” said Jeoffry as he went back to the pedestal and started flipping through the pages of a book.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you reject a donation so this must be really big. Want to know where I got it from?” I asked.

“The dungeon of course. I was at the bar last night as well, even partook in the bet as it was in good humor. I had you passing out at the entrance of the dungeon. Thankfully I didn’t bet too much, but I imagine Jeff and Jerry might be a bit displeased with you. Ahh, here it is, the symbol of the Goddess Sanae Patil who is linked to endurance and lesser healing with no knight order,” said Jeoffry, revealing the origins behind the shield and its possible blessings. Alongside the fact that avoided Jerry was a really good idea. Tempting to just jump back down into the dungeon for a few days so he doesn’t blame me for losing that bet.

“So what does it do and is it valuable?” I asked.

“It’s worthless to knights and its effects is of low value to dungeon explorers who prefer offensive options. Might be of some value to a noble as a novelty item but overall it’s a bust. Best to keep it until someone offers enough to take it off your hands. As for its effect, why don’t you ask her yourself?” said Jeoffry.

The fact that the shield couldn’t be sold for a fortune was a bit disappointing but at least the rock turned out to be a hunk of valuable copper. And it was still a divine item, much better than being cursed to say the least. Least I could do was pray to this goddess once to figure out what it does and give thanks for receiving it. Saved my life down in the dungeon since it kept that rat bastard from getting at my neck.

“Alright, but doesn’t that take a while to do? Walk me through the process.”

“You have her divine item with you, just kneel while touching the symbol in a temple should be enough to make a connection. Just do it off to the side so you’re not in the middle of the walkway.”

Well, that’s awfully convenient. No wonder divine items are worth a fortune when they’re linked to a knight order. Must make things so much easier for those knights who have to pray every day and enact their divine’s orders. I walked over to a corner of the temple that Jeoffry pushed me towards then I did as instructed.

I knelt down with my hand upon the shield and closed my eyes. Nothing happened for the first few moments and I got a bit antsy. Then, everything turned white for a few moments and I understood what must be done. Rather than a meeting with the goddess, it was an experience that told me everything I needed to know at this time.

My meeting with the goddess could be summed up within a few points. First, I’m dying from alcohol poisoning in my liver and will die within a year. Second, if I quit drinking I’ll still die, faster actually due to the shock and stress from quitting my addiction. Third, if I establish a knight order for Goddess Sanae Patil, she will heal me and I could live to old age unless something else happens to harm me. Fourth, in order to get the funds and gear necessary to establish a knight order, I must enter the dungeon again, not just once but many many times and there was no time to spare.

“I see you’ve awakened from your meeting. What effects does your shield grant?” asked Jeoffry as he scrubbed the floor near me.

I took a look at my left arm, the one I had injured in the fight against the ratman, and the bruise I expected to be there, wasn’t. Clear unblemished skin stared back at me. And I felt like I could run for ages without sweating, full of energy. Half of me wanted to immediately challenge the dungeon and try to escape impending death, the other half wanted to cry in this corner I found myself in, physically and metaphorically.

“Increases my natural healing and allows me to move a bit more before I get tired,” I responded to the priest while getting up.

“Nice, both blessings are on the shield then. That is quite lucky but unfortunately, the shield still holds the same value. By the way, you’re looking a bit pale, are you alright?” asked Jeoffry with a bit of concern for my wellbeing. Now that I had prayed to a goddess and held a divine item, he saw me as one of his flock and treated me better than usual. Not sure how I felt about that, or anything really.

“I’m alright,” I said while leaving the temple. I had something more concerning on my mind than dealing with Jeoffry’s new attitude towards me. Like the fact that I had no weapon but was expected to enter the dungeon again.

A sword was no good, so it’s either a broken bottle again or buying some sort of improvised farm tool. The sun was past noon and slowly settling downwards, it’d be a while until nighttime so it seemed a bit early to eat or go to the bar. Wait, why go to the bar when the bar can come to me. I pulled out the bottle of liquor I fetched from the dungeon and took a good long swig from it.

Earlier it gave me a headache because I was still a bit queasy from waking up. At this time, instead, it filled me with bliss and made all my concerns fly away. This bottle was I needed to get past this day, and even though it’s killing me I know that not drinking it won’t do me any good. Making a knight order was impossible, but making the most out of my life by drinking every day without fear of consequence was great. Either way I died, so might as well drink more and more.

I sat down under the shade of a tree and took another drink from the bottle. I was up there in the clouds floating in the sky rather than dying here on earth. I felt something funny under me so I moved it and found myself holding a tree branch. It must’ve fell during the last storm. Usually, only small branches littered the ground, nothing like this big thick branch that ruined my drinking. This tree branch reminded me of a time when I was young and swung around sticks, pretending they were swords.

Wasn't this a weapon?