“Swordsmanship… what a waste of ten years,” Sebas rolled around a few dried fruits in the palms of his hands, trying to work up the strength to eat such sickening fruit. “My hands are hard and torn, I can’t feel the middle of my palms anymore. Swordless.”

  “I want to eat meat. I hate this,” he whispered, tossing the rotten fruit into the town fountain where well-wishers toss coins in exchange for the hope of a better tomorrow. Today, however, Sebas needed those coins for a better tomorrow himself.

  Sebas hands come away wet from scavenging attempts amid the fountain. Despite the baleful gaze of several commoners around him, he comes away with four copper pieces. They are all low quality and oxidized from weeks or months submerged, but they should spend all the same.

  Pinching the bridge of his nose, he calculates exactly what this treasure trove can provide. A single glove or a rotten loaf of bread would cost five coppers on the best of days. The butcher always had waste cuttings for sale, four coppers would fetch around a quarter pound. Any meat was better than the mushy fruit.

  Still staring at the hard-won fortune in his hands, he sighed, wondering what sort of lofty noble needed to get a job like a commoner, he was a better thief than he was a sellsword or laborer.

  “I feel like an abandoned noble’s pet, a small drake that bit the hand that fed it… I suppose I did,” he muttered to himself. The hunger was getting to him mentally, he was talking to himself while staring into a fountain’s water. Looking up from the paltry funds, all he could see was opportunity; The tall guild hall stood, across town, in the east part of Eruka, a small brass bell atop the bell tower visible from the middle of the street. Sebas drug his hand over his face as his conviction slowly solidified.

  It was late, perhaps too late to be making a life-changing career decision in a town that had no real nightlife. Each light post began to hum to life the magic inside giving off a soft vibration that filled the quiet wheat town as Sebas trudged over the cobbled stone. A small clinking and tinking of coins sounded behind Sebas as he walked, making him stop and look down as the coins that were once inside his coin purse lay strewn across the road. He picked up his coin purse from his belt loop and opened it, showing the hole in the bottom.

  “Huh,” Sebas mused to himself, poking his finger into the bottom of the wallet, “I appear to have a spending problem,” he joked, to the empty street around him. Sebas walked forward, scuffing his tattered shoes across the ground before crouching down to pick up the oxidized coins while he balled up the dysfunctional leather sack in his palm.

  Nearly seven years had passed since Sebas had a “faulty” awakening, causing the re-coloring of his hair, the paling of his skin, the loss of his blue eyes, and what some consider the most prudent part of awakening, the skill, [Bite].

  Once, Sebas was considered one of the four “prospective heirs” of Disel, Kladia’s Capital and coast city. Each of the major races blessed by gods, not just the main six, are bestowed [Skills] or (Traits), and each major family of Disel had been systematically conditioning their respective bloodlines to create their own superpower to take over the small fishing city.

  “I don’t think I have ever seen Father so mad before... Or disappointed.” Sebas stretched his arms around the back of his head. He strode through alleyways and cul-de-sacs, hoping to find a proper distraction to keep his mind off of having to go to the guild hall and it’s somehow worse paperwork.

  Clutching his four copper coins in his left hand, Sebas pushed through the swinging doors that led into the versatile space, nearly floored by a demi-human as it charged past him into what Sebas could only assume was a party member, wincing when a loud metallic slamming originated from the helmet on the bovine demihuman made a dent in the chest if the dark-skinned man’s dark silverish plate mail. A skeleton of a winged creature sat on wires, connected to the ceiling of the building, overlooking a pair of identical chandeliers made of an ivory-white material loomed above Sebas as he walked through before his gaze snapped towards a very drunk man’s scream of “MOTHERFUCKER” and reveled with raised eyebrows as alcohol, chips, and cards followed the spinning table that squished a patron. Sebas heard what he assumed was someone calling for him, and looked around confused before resuming his viewing of the large man with the goat motif hat beat up a smaller man.

  “Excuse me, sir! With the red hair!” A feminine voice came from the opposite side of the multipurpose room, a woman in a contrasting uniform to the men who worked alongside her; the women wore a set of standard maid attire, black frilled dresses with full skirts with red half-aprons that some chose not to wear and came with black leather belts that matched the gloves that each worker wore. The men were dressed in deep red blazer jackets, and white buttoned shirts that sat tucked into a pair of comfortable-looking pants with a fastened bag or satchel for ease of access potions or perhaps a consumable smoke bomb to make the drunken adventurers flood out of the establishment.

  “-name. How can I help you, Sir?” Took over Sebas’ attention as he was pulled from his daze, causing his eyes to focus on the woman who just introduced herself to him.

  “I need to work,” Sebas said stiffly, contrasting to his relaxed posture leaning over the counter.

  “Have you worked with the explorer’s or adventurer’s guild before Sir?” She asked with a smile, concealing her true self beyond Sebas’ perceptive abilities.

  “No Ma’am, I’m not affiliated with either.”

  “We can start you with registration paperwork, do you need any assistance with reading or writing Sir?”

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “No, I’ll manage.”

  With a curt smile, a packet of parchment is dropped on the counter with a quill, someone has seemingly managed to enchant such a thing where etching magical runes or circuits should be impossible, what a great shame, a worthless item with a valuable enchantment.

  The large pack of documents bound to a board were taken after Sebas spent apt time inspecting the quill. Sebas sat near a drunk man lying across the table with a wooden mug tightly clutched in his hand. Sebas peered into the mug, seeing it was nearly empty, and spoke softly to the strange human that practically sweated out alcohol.

  “Need a refill big fella?”

  The large man defensively curled up, cuddling the small mug after hearing him, causing Sebas to shake his head from side to side. He returned to his document pile, softly tapping the tip of the quill on the corner of the paper, reading the unmarked questions over and over.

  A small sigh escaped his lips as a barmaid walked past, catching her attention.

  “Do you need a refill, sir? Do you need any assistance?”

  “No, I’m good.”

  “Well, if you need anything, sir, my name is Amel,” she did an incomplete curtsy as her hands, preoccupied with the bouquet of mugs in each hand, were obstructed.

  “Thank you,” Sebas said with a dismissive tone to the worker.

  He looked forward at the unconscious adventurer and slowly hesitated before reaching forward, seemingly lost in thought before shrugging and writing “Alcoholic” in common glyphs on the man’s forearm. Sebas admired the jagged glyphs, unable to inscribe them properly do to the giggling and twitching of the unconscious man.

  “There you go bud.”

  Sebas tilted his head to the side, returning his gaze to the documents.

  Name: Sebastian Iore Aren (Disowned)

  D.O.B: X/X/3XXX

  Affinity: N/A

  References: No.

  Skills: [Bite] Lv 1, [Lowest Level Swordsmanship] LV. 3

  Traits: N/A

  Sebas returned to the booth where the guild worker was, he hadn’t heard her name and decided it wouldn’t matter since he was here for money, not connections or friendships. He softly placed the clipboard of documents on the wooden table and looked up at the smiling guildwoman.

  She leafed through the mostly blank packet of paper and brought out the last page, another blank piece of paper sat there, and small circuits of magic glowed as mana ran through it. A small obelisk was pulled out from below, and set on the table. Sebas had read something about them before, his favorite author once said that these “Identity Stones” are “The result of a Genocide… Artifacts that signify that our world is at war, similar to a war that humanity and many other species benefactors, the dragons, held before they disappeared.” Sebas sneered at the small object and locked eyes with the guildmaiden, she gestured for him to use the object with a smile, “Please Confirm your God Window.”

  Lightly brushing his finger over the tip of the artifact, Sebas watched as a small rectangular blue panel hovered above his hand, showing the following information:

  Sebas scowled at his stats, his accursed skill, and his Level. The Guildmaiden smiled at his information and slowly recorded his information on the last piece of paper. She finished and Sebas watched as she removed the small obelisk, and as the text on the document transferred into the paper, as she took it away.

  Sebas watched as she turned in the documented attribute panel, placed it in a small envelope that disappeared in the air, and waited with clenched fists and a concerned expression.

  A few dozen minutes later, a copper plate necklace along with a certificate appeared in the air, clattering in front of Sebas. The Guildmaiden held up the string so he could shove his head through the necklace.

  “Here you are sir, would you like to register for any requests? Horned Rabbit dungeon subjugation is a common practice for a first job. You can treat it like an initiation here at the guild!”

  “Is it possible to get somewhere to sleep as well?”

  “Of course sir! Surely you must know that we have the cheapest lodging anywhere in Eruka!” She smiled, proud of their pseudo-nonprofit venue.

  “Sir?”

  “Oh… Yes. I have to go to fight horned rabbits, are the dungeon entrances each the same?”

  “No sir! If you exclude the north entrance, the eastern and south-eastern entrances will be optimal hunting grounds for someone of your level, filled with single-horned rabbits. Just avoid going in too far!”

  Sebas tilted his head back as he thought about the idea of a Multi-horned rabbit.

  “Thank you,” he said, gripping the copper-ranking plate ID necklace, tapping the desk a few times with an open palm as he turned to leave, before saying, “Thank you” once again in a low mutter.

  Sebas walked out of the Tavern before the Guildmaiden called to him, “Good luck mister Sebas!”

  Sebas turned back to her, stared at her, and smiled while shaking his head. He didn’t even know her name.