The moment before the inky fog parted —  pierced by blinding light — was painful beyond measure.

Every fiber of Joel’s mind and body felt like shattered glass, forced to smash into one another. Each collision splintered his form into further shards, then mended over, growing like jagged veins. Time moved at a glacial pace and stretched his suffering. 

The light’s warmth dulled the excruciating pain, washing over him and filling his fractures. He felt an urge to scream, to prove he was here and existed. Yet, even enveloped in the warmth, his ruptured form refused to give him a voice.

Growing light. Fading darkness. Nothing else.

The sun greeted him awake, glimmers of its rays slipping through the wind-blown curtains. Cool air blew across his face while his body was weighed down by heavy blankets, soft and warm. The faint clamor of a crowd came through the open window, accompanied by snores — gentle, rhythmic, and nearby.

The realization stripped away the grogginess of waking; his thoughts pieced together like gears clicking in place. Confused panic spiked as the last thought puzzled back.

The elves. Bhas. The crew. 

He instantly regretted trying to sit up. A ripple of pain cranked from his neck, as if rebuking his attempt to move. So instead his eyes darted around, scanning the room.

It was larger than his own modest room at the Berrygood Lodge, the ceiling beams were higher. Cozy and infinitely less itchy, the bed was the most comfortable he’d ever lain in. The calming smell of smoke and bitter pine wafted in the air. He fought the urge to fall asleep again. An open window was to his left, capturing the din of people and civilization. Someone was yelling the price of bread, obscured by clopping hooves and creaking carts. He let the noise meld into the background.

None of it sounded as clear as the snores from the room’s corner.

He had to turn his neck, an agonizing endeavor, to see the sound’s source. Next to a sturdy round table, a woman slumbered in a chair. Slouched horribly, her posture could hardly count as sitting. Half of her body hanging off, her blonde bangs swayed in tandem to her breathing. Draped around her like a blue blanket, her poofy robes covered the floor around her. 

Near her feet were a set of three unfurled bedrolls. They were next to the bed, some of their blankets rustled. It was as if someone had made a cramped interior camping spot. 

The door was across the bedrolls, next to the sleeping woman. For a brief moment, he thought about making a break for it. However, with the way he felt, the door might as well have been an ocean away.

That said, it wasn’t like it was impossible to move. His body simply hurt too much. Even the slightest strain set his muscles aflame. He wasn’t restrained, though tight bandages were wrapped around his body.

Bandages. If this woman — and whoever else was here — meant him harm, they’d already had plenty of opportunity. He let himself feel a hint of relief, and sank back into his pillow.

Returning his gaze back to the ceiling, he mentally summoned the [Status] screen. The translucent box appeared as commanded, words cascading down. 

—

Name: Joel Early

Class: Classless

Level: 1

 

HP: 1%

MP: 1%

MIGHT: 252

DEFTNESS: 455

VITALITY: 503

FOCUS: 200

SPIRIT: 140

RESOLVE: 205

 

Anomaly: 2

—

MP — or Mana Points if he recalled correctly — didn’t surprise him. Considering he’d picked up a spell, even as minor as a cantrip, it made sense that his MP would appear on his [Status]. 

MP would effectively determine how long you could sustain a spell or how many you could juggle at once. That was the least he could remember from his playing days. He’d have to test which ability scores reflected it, though he had a suspicion that it was SPIRIT.

Everything else was still about the same. The numbers for his ability scores seemed right. His eyes scanned further down.

Anomaly: 2.

Now that was different. 

When had that changed? Had he not noticed it after his duel with Boreth? Or was it during his fight with Bhas? Perhaps after he beat her?

He stared at the words again. It hurt to grimace so he bit the inside of his dry lip instead. As annoying as it was, he couldn’t recall receiving a notification or remember when that number had increased. Then again, everything felt like a blur that hurt his head.

Anomaly. Hell, what did it even mean? Did it happen when he fell unconscious? Or… dead?

There wasn’t some ominous entity, offering some deal for his life. He didn’t get transported to another world. Heaven or hell, any afterlife, wasn’t waiting for him. No extra life or respawn.

More importantly, he didn’t wake up back home.

His mind went back to the black he remembered, the nothingness of it all. The pit in his stomach sank deeper. A cold feeling of dread crawled all around him. 

Nothing but dark oblivion. 

He shut his eyes tight, trying to cast the existential thoughts from his mind. Feeling utterly trashed and bandaged up, there were more pressing present concerns. He opened his eyes to inspect the room again.

The greenest pair of eyes stared back from above him. Despite being shaded away from the sunlight, her irises shimmered like emeralds resting on glittering gold. Her brow furrowed as she realized he was conscious. 

She straightened up. “You’re awake!” Slightly pointed ears stuck out from her short hair.

Another elf? She looked human, although she had a tinge of the elven etherealness.

His mouth was drier than a desert. “Wh-where?” 

“Oh.” She blinked. “Right, of course, sorry.” She slowed down her speech as if she was speaking to a toddler. “You’re. At. Wardenhal. It’s. A. Town.” A hacking cough blocked his response so he nodded his understanding. 

Noticing the struggle to speak, she reached out behind herself. A spectral hand formed, swooping across the room and grabbing a cup off of the table. The translucent hand floated the cup to his lips.

[Mana Hand]. The only spell he knew.

He sipped gratefully. “But how?”

“Found you on the road,” she replied, letting him take another sip. “You were injured but bandaged. In fact, you were hurt so bad that Siv said if you didn’t have that lifeberry balm, you might’ve not made it.”

Lifeberry balm? That wasn’t his. Another mystery.

“Siv?” he asked, craning his neck a little. The pain made him wince.

“Oh, careful. You haven’t really moved in the last few days. Four days to be exact.” She placed the cup down on the bed stand. “Siv’s my brother. He’s out with Al but they should be back soon.”

Four days? Considering how Joel felt, it seemed understandable. 

“Did you see anyone else?” he asked quietly. 

A shake of the head. “Nope. Just you. Why?” She walked across the room and plopped back onto the chair. “I’m Alis.”

“Joel.” He tried to return a cheery smile, purposefully sidestepping her question. Enduring the ache, he nudged himself up to lean against the headboard. “Thanks for everything. I didn’t expect help from strangers.”

“That’s all Al and Siv. Do they care about getting delayed on the road? Nope. Even when we’re already late? Nope. There’s someone just lying on the ground so we got to help him.” She let out an exasperated sigh while blowing the hair out of her eyes. 

“Sorry.” He really didn’t know what else to say.

“No, no, I’m sorry,” she said hastily, a dimpled smile appearing. “I didn’t mean we should’ve left you there. I’m mostly just complaining about Siv.”

“There’s nothing to apologize about. I’ve been inconveniencing you all.” He tilted his head to the bed rolls on the ground. “I wish I had the coin to repay you. Though I did have some spiced cheese in my bag.”

“We know.” She noticed his pause. “Hope you don’t mind, we went through your things. It’s where we found the balm. Believe it or not, your cheese rations helped convince Al too. He mentioned knowing who made it and that seemed to be enough for him.”

Gorum’s spiced cheese. Just another way the tavernkeeper had helped him. He’d have to thank the old half-orc. 

“So what happened to you?” Alis asked while tilting her head. “I saw your wounds whenever Siv changed your bandages. It looked like you’d been mauled by a wild animal.”

For a brief moment, he recalled the feral relentlessness of Bhas, the crushing bite that snapped his bone. Memories of what happened trickled in. His hand clasped at his collar, noticing the bone felt whole.

She continued, not noticing his silence this time or, at least, pretending to. “It’s rare that my brother’s healing isn’t enough to wake someone. You must’ve really been on death’s door.”

“Honestly, I wish I remembered what happened.” He wasn’t sure why he lied, it just felt prudent to. Less association with the Burton gang was better. “The most I can recall is something attacking me from behind. Knocked me out immediately.”

“Maybe someone came to your rescue?”

“Maybe. If that’s the case, that’s two blessings from a stranger. Guess luck’s on my side.”

“My brother would tell you to give thankful prayers to whoever you pray to.” She stretched before leaning her elbow on the round table. Her eyes lit up as the sound of loud, clinking greaves approached, heavy steps going up a set of stairs. “They’re back!”

All smiles, she bounded out of the room to greet them in the hall. Voices carried through the open door. “You’re back!”

“We said we wouldn’t be gone long.” The soft voice was calm and steady like it was used to being reassuring. 

“How did the meeting go? Were you able to convince the old man to reconsider?” she asked excitedly.

“It’s not ‘old man’,” said another voice between chuckles. This one was louder, more confident. “You get caught calling the baron that and we’ll be sent back empty handed. It was our own fault for arriving so late.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” Alis interrupted. “He’s awake.”

“He is? Why didn’t you say something?” asked the softer voice. A few more footsteps were heard, only to stop. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

An irritated sound from Alis followed. “You promised we’d make this one work it off. No more freebies! I hear the both of you complaining about how light our coin pouches have become. As if you both don’t know exactly why.”

“Alright, alright,” said the louder voice, their chainmail clinked as they spoke. “We agreed on two jobs, right?”

Alis’ voice was terse. “Four. One for each day he’s spent bedridden.”

They knew the door was open, right? There was an uncomfortable silence. 

The calmer voice broke it. “That seems like a steep pri—”

“Siv, it’s what we agreed to when we carted him over!”

There was another clink of chainmail. “Four, then.” He sounded resigned to agreement. “But we keep him out of danger and limited to porter duties.”

“Of course,” Alis said matter-of-factly. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“I doubt he’ll be ready to help us soon,” Siv interjected. “My healing mended his bones but he won’t be in working condition right away. That means more days, and more missions, then?” 

“I’m not sure we can afford many more days,” said the other voice. “But let’s not ask too much of someone who came back from the brink of death. Four, that’s it. Fair?”

Joel felt a guilty pang in his gut. Being a burden, indebted to another, wasn’t something he was fond of. 

Wincing, he activated [Lay On Hands]. Under the cover, his hands began to glow with warm light. He felt dull pain dissipate, becoming easier to simply breath. He didn’t bother saving any this time, using all of it. 

In combination with that, he gave his arms a light massage. Using [Second Wind], he felt further replenished. As his HP rose and his strength returned, he was able to sit up properly. 

Just in time as the three of them entered. 

“Oh, you’re up,” Siv said, surprise etching his mild features. Like his sister, his eyes seemed to shimmer with light, though his were bright blue. He also shared that same hint of etherealness. “You shouldn’t have moved so much yet.”

Beyond him, a taller man waved, a bright smile across his chiseled face. “Well met, friend. I’m Al.” His plate armor — durable, but well-worn — rattled against the chainmail underneath. The human man was ridiculously good-looking, the type that made the world feel unfair. Strong jaw, expressive eyes, broad shoulders.

“And I’m Sivren.” He walked over, inspecting Joel. Placing a hand over the silver amulet, a glint of bright light built. “Are you alright? I can alleviate any serious pain with a spell.”

Joel raised a bandaged hand to stop him. “I’m fine. Thanks to all of you. And I’m Joel.”

Sivren nodded, the magic fading from his hand. “We’re glad you’re awake. There were hours where we worried you’d pass onto the Lady.”

“Glad I woke up.” An uneasy chuckle, which was shared by Sivren. 

Alis shot an urging look at Al. 

The well-armored man coughed. “Well, do you think you feel well enough to move?”

Sivren’s face became severe. “It’s a little soon.”

“I can move,” Joel said, turning so that he was sitting on the bed. He wasn’t anywhere close to perfect condition, but he’d be able to walk around. The bandages were so itchy. “I don’t know how I can thank all of you enough for helping me. If there’s anything I can do for you, feel free to ask.” He held in a smirk at seeing Alis’ triumphant face. 

Al laughed in relief, his perfect gold locks of hair swaying. “Well, it’s perfect you ask. We’re open to discussing it, but would you mind working as a porter for our little party?” He glanced at Alis, who was staring daggers at him. He coughed again. “For, say, the next four jobs? We’d split any pay with you fairly and can give you a Freewalker’s guarantee for your safety.”

“Freewalkers?” Joel remembered Boreth mentioning them. “So you’re all adventurers?”

A look of pride flashed across Al’s face. “Fully registered in the League as Tier 4 Freewalkers.”

“It’s not nearly as intimidating as it sounds,” Siv said, patting down his silver-grey robes. “Tier 4 is the lowest after all. But we’re Freewalkers nonetheless, so you have our word that we’ll keep you safe as our porter.”

They called it porters; Joel remembered them as mules. Effectively, pack-mules were extra inventory space. Confident parties would venture into dungeons with one. Their jobs were lugging around anything valuable found. It was a good way to secure plenty of loot — assuming you survived the run. 

 “I can do that,” he said before pausing. “But I’d like to send word back to a friend of mine, he’s probably worried sick about me.” He stood to his feet, wobbling, as Sivren steadied him. 

“You mean Gorum? Nice to know that the old man’s still around.” Al noticed the surprise. “I’ve spent some time in the area before. On the road, you end up remembering the places with good food and know to frequent them.”

Joel smiled. “He has a killer pork stew.”

“Uh, yes. The stew is quite good.” Al’s brows wrinkled, a tad confused at Joel’s words. “Anyway, we could look for someone to courier a message to Gorum. The market’s bound to have someone who makes deliveries.” Despite looking like he’d been sculpted out of marble, Al couldn’t have been more than a few years older than himself. But the armored man spoke with all the demeanor and nostalgia of someone long travelled. 

“Well, I wouldn’t mind stretching my legs,” Joel said, shifting his weight side to side. 

“Siv and I have a meeting with the guard captain.” Al turned towards Alis, a sheepish look on his face. “You mind accompanying him? He’s probably going to need the coin to grease the wheels around here.”

It was clear from her face that she did mind. “Fine.” She motioned Joel along as she headed out the door. “Let’s go then.”

Pulling his shirt over himself, he did his best to waddle after her. With a glance back, he caught Al and Sivren speaking to each other in hushed tones — as if sharing a secret. His eyes caught the blue of Al’s turning his way, so Joel lowered his gaze away quickly. An uneasy feeling swelled within him as the Burton gang riddled his thoughts. 

He’d be much more careful this time.