In this world contaminated by the presence of the gods, I am nothing more than a dog.
Among mine, there are concepts like [Levels] and [Status]. Every living being with intelligence has these two characteristics: [Levels] and [Status]. For us humans to need these concepts, there must first be a counterpart that makes them useful. This is where the monsters come in. Monsters invade every corner of this world, to the last point of the earth, in the sky and in the water – there are and will be monsters.
Naturally, just because you had a [Status Window] where you could see your [Level] didn't mean you would necessarily face these monsters.
To understand the abnormality of living things, one had to first know that these qualities were gifts from the gods. Among the [Status] of each living thing, there was a specific ability for each one. You could receive a skill listed for the farm or smithy, even combat skills or magic – which made you more latent to become an Adventurer, the ones in charge of hunting monsters.
This was not taught to you in a Magical Academy or a Specialized Organization. In this world, if you weren't lucky enough to be born into a rich family or if you didn't have a really useful ability, you would wander in solitude. At least that was what my grandfather, the only relative I ever knew, taught me before he died.
My ability was called [Consume]. It didn't have a special name, it didn't appear in the books of legends, and it had no trace of ancestors in history. That meant that I was the first and probably the last to have it.
What was my skill for? In short, I consumed anything within the range of my current level. Since I was Level 1, I could consume an item the size of my palm. For what? For nothing. My ability was so useless that when my grandfather died, the villagers in the village took the opportunity to kick me out.
Do you know how many nights I spent pondering what was the reason for my existence? With an ability that made me so expendable, I was of no use.
After going through cold nights and famine, I finally reached the lands of the Empire. My only reason for moving forward through those nights when the cold gnawed at my bones and my skin showed malnutrition was that upon arriving in the Empire, such a huge metropolis, I could find a decent job.
They didn't even accept me to clean the garbage from the streets because my ability could barely consume small items.
Apparently, the Empire, being such a large place and filled with such diversity of races, faced serious problems in its civil and social policy, so there was a great demand for "Sentinels" – as the imperial nobility called the Empire cannon fodder. One of these families accepted me at the gate of her garden. I had become a bloodhound, watching out for intruders. Like those dogs chained by their negligent owners, I had to be there on rainy days and snowy days, without moving from my place, to earn a miserable salary that barely allowed me to buy a piece of stale bread.
But in this miserably cynical and cruel world, there were living beings that seemed to exceed the conceived limits, defying the laws that maintained order and the line between servants and masters.
"How are you?"
Lane Crestoria, daughter of the Aphrodite Family, was a girl who believed that strength should be used to protect the weak. She had the typical appearance of a heroine in a fairy tale; her beauty was immaculate, and her golden hair shone like the sun. She had no equal among women with a sword.
If there was a reason I could eat another half of the loaf one day or night, it was because Lane gave me hers. That's how absurd she was.
The Goddess Aphrodite Family was known for upholding honor and justice, qualities that were in short supply in the Empire. The public loved them, but most of all they loved Lane, seeing her as the standard that a human being could remain – the banner of light that guides humanity through the darkness.
If I had been born in the Empire, whether as trash in a dank alley or a brat in a cradle of gold, I would definitely be a blind fan of Lane Crestoria. Who wouldn't adore such an ideal and above all beautiful girl?
However, I only met her when I came to the Empire. You know why? Her exploits were limited to the territories of the Empire. In town, I never heard her name; people never talked about her in the surrounding villages when I went to sell coal, milk, or cheese. When the monsters attacked the people of the villages on the outskirts, killing the fathers who defended their families, "heroic" figures like Lane or the Aphrodite Family never appeared in those places.
Don't get the wrong idea; the towns I'm talking about were in the Empire region, and to give you an idea, I walked through the region selling our produce. Are you going to tell me that someone with the power of the Aphrodite Family did not have a means of transportation like horses? Are you going to tell me that they had no way of learning about the movements of the monsters on the roads and in the forests when they were so close to the gates of the Empire?
I didn't hate Lane; It wasn't her fault that she was raised among the ideals of the rich and privileged, but I wasn't going to kneel down and thank her for giving me a piece of bread as alms either.
"Yes," I said, lowering my head.
"You're thinner, Bell..."
"My shift ends here," I replied, ignoring her concern. "I understand that Elric will relieve my position until my next turn."
This was one of the Aphrodite Family's headquarters, more specifically, the backyard of Lane Crestoria's true home.
Before leaving, I offered one last respectful bow and took a step forward when suddenly something grabbed me by the tail of my shirt.
"If you need help or money, I can…"
Her worried expression reversed into my cold eyes.
"I can't accept anything. The payment you give me for my work is enough. I'm fine. Thank you."
Before she reached to take my hand, I quickly pulled away. This girl was the type of person that saw straight ahead. She didn't realize that touching me or offering me additional payment would make me look like a greedy man who was taking advantage of the young woman's kindness.
If the Aphrodite Family ever found out, they would hang me in the square, then cut off my head like a pig's and put it on public display downtown so the citizens, and especially Lane fans, could throw rotten apples at me.
But if there was something that saved me from the chronic depression that my very existence gave me, it was undoubtedly alcohol. After each of my shifts, especially when I saw Lane's face, going to a tavern and drinking alcohol to forget her was like swallowing cold water in a desert.
The moon looked like a stellar chandelier as I arrived at the tavern. The ones I normally went to were only open at night, since those were the hours when alcohol could circulate on public roads. During the day, the nobles partied without interruption from the scum who got drunk at night. In this tavern, there was everything; "xenos" was the name given to any non-human race with the exception of demi-humans. If you were an elf, you were a xeno; if you were a dwarf, you were a xeno; if you were a fairy, you were a xeno; if you were a dragonborn, you were a xeno; if you were a tiefling, you were a xeno; and so on for all.
Although the Empire openly stated that it intended to abolish discrimination, it was simply propaganda to make the xenos believe that the Empire was a safe and diverse human land. After all, the Empire would tax even for breathing, and a little insecurity was a price they were willing to pay. Also, hounds like me used to be xenos too, so it all kind of went back and forth.
I made my way through the smoke from the pipes, the music of the lute, the songs of the poet, and the shouts of the drunkards to my usual table. Since it was in a dark corner, it was almost always free.
"Good night, Bell dear. Will it be business as usual?"
The xeno in front of me was orcish, a large and intimidating woman. She had long greasy hair, yellow fangs protruding from her green lips, and orange eyes that seemed to see into my soul. I thought that was the reason why until now no one had dared to kill anyone.
"The cheapest alcohol and leftovers of whatever is left."
"I'll be right back, honey."
Daena was the kindest woman I had ever met from a xeno race. It was hard not to judge her by her appearance, but even though it had cost me, I discovered that under her muscles, there was a lady with feelings, and that neither I nor anyone else had the right to hurt her. Although, well, words from others would do her little harm...
Daena and I had an arrangement where she earned next to nothing. I had to come here every night for her to verify that I was still alive and in one piece. In exchange, she kept the leftovers for me and gave them to me as a reward.
I think she knew that more than once I tried to kill myself. Perhaps the other guard dogs of the Crestoria mansion had spread the word. Who knows.
When we talked about the remains, it was actually trash. But with the economy due to the war and the hunger that existed in the metropolis, it was inevitable that only the bone would remain from a piece of meat. Especially when we talk about adventurers, who were the majority in a tavern. Sometimes they spat on the remains because they knew they would be given to street children.
Adventurers were seen as harsh and violent people. They believed that having fighting ability made them better than others - selfish trash, in short.
I didn't care what they did with the food; I had learned to value what was given to me, whether it was a bone from which I would scrape some meat or even a piece of stale bread. On the other hand, the cheapest alcohol was an acid that made you dizzy and caused you to lose your taste...
Sliding through the sticky mess on my plate, I drank my wine and looked at the plates of food on the other tables. The mind was so incredible that by eating what was mine, I could imagine the taste of what others ate.
"How's work? Have your shifts increased like last time?"
Daena's question implied nothing more than concern, so she didn't bother me. She knew that if I didn't kill myself, being a hound dog would. But what other choice did I have? Living was better than being dead, and suffering was indifferent to me if I could extend my life through pain.
"It's difficult but acceptable. I'm not complaining."
"Well, you should, Bell. A week ago, I didn't even know I could see the bones in your hands. You're getting more and more malnourished…"
I really appreciated her concern; I would have insulted anyone speaking to me with that advice. However, it wasn't as simple as stopping work.
I was a hound, and leaving the owner's hand that fed you was doomed. Lane could be an almost godlike entity when it came to being human, but the other members of her family, no matter how honest and ethical, would not take kindly to me stopping work for Lane's safety.
If I was ever considered a traitor, my head would be on the line.