Viscus held a new item in his hand, inspecting it from all sides. The holographic phone, otherwise known as a Scroll, looked alien yet familiar in its features, the black outline giving way to a blue screen with applications that felt archaic compared to where he was from, but the bare minimum nonetheless.
He ignored the icons and tapped on the one for Remnant's version of the internet, and the first words he typed in the search engine were "When is the next Vytal?". It took a few moments to load, something that he assumed was more related to the Scroll itself and its unfortunate state. His fingers ran over the fissures on the scroll's sides, a sigh escaping him.
Not one of the Scrolls he acquired had unblemished handles, but that didn't stop them from working, thankfully. His gaze landed back on the results, and he leaned back on the chair once he registered the answer. In about a year and a half, Vale would go boom, and everything would cascade into a bleak world that he wished to avoid at all cost. Vacuo was enough for him, even more and his brain would probably shatter.
He put the Scroll back in view and frowned at the red blinking battery icon. He pocketed the item and faced the balcony, sunlight piercing through its veil. It was the morning after his first hunt, and he shook his head when he glanced at the bed, feeling both disappointed and relieved.
Sleep eluded him once more, and he couldn't even come up with an excuse for sleeping beyond "want". Twenty minutes of rest and he felt perfectly fine after, and he realized that also applied to his energy levels. His mind was calm after the fight, and his heart beat slowly and steadily. He felt "fine", and he didn't know what to think of it.
Should he be glad that he no longer felt guilt and regret? Or should he be terrified of how quickly his mind chalked up the deaths into a necessity for survival and growth? Both seemed appropriate, but the situation demanded one and not the other.
So the Gamer begrudgingly let it go, and proceeded to work on himself through the rest of the night : workouts, mana manipulation, and as much thought to his combat capabilities.
His skills were incredibly simple in nature, but even their boosts were confusing. For example, his [Assassinate] skill gave him a bonus to stealth attack damage, but there was nothing to indicate a weapon's damage numbers. Viscus even made sure to observe a passerby from the balcony in the middle of his training, and there were no numbers for HP or MP.
His weapons only had adjectives to "Quality" and "Damage", and that meant he could only assume the system simply couldn't calculate damage in numbers, not for anyone but him. He could feel his head hurt as he thought about it further, so he opted to focus on something else.
Stat points, and which he should prioritize. Viscus thought long and hard about it, considering each stat and his future, and all he could see was failure if he decided to focus on his mana-related stats.
Viscus imagined, no, knew that he was going to fight people and Grimm at huntsman levels of strength, and, if the show was of any value, everything would act like living speeding tanks, zooming around the place and eating blows like it was nobody's business.
If Viscus focused on his mana abilities, then he would most likely be outclassed late-game. A single blow would turn him to dust, Aura be damned. So instead, he looked at his physical stats, and he debated between DEX and AGI.
In the Gamer's current state, he knew he couldn't take a blow. He simply wasn't built to tank, and the prospect of taking damage only worsened the idea of focusing on END and VIT. STR was one of his top choices, but from the earlier fight, he realized that, for now, he wasn't lacking in power, using mana made sure to bridge that gap if even a little. And he was already nearly 3 times his original STR, so leveling Aura and exercising would keep him up to speed in that regard.
In the end, between AGI and DEX, Viscus chose the latter. In terms of availability, AGI was clearly trainable, but DEX he had yet to solve, and, in combat, he believed that he wasn't lacking in physical speed as much as he was lacking in computational speed. His reactions were good, they always were even before he entered Remnant, but he could do with more.
Since the end goal was to defeat the two immortals, then he was more likely to fight man than monster, and so he would focus on that. He would build himself to fight men and women stronger than him, but he would be quicker.
He dreaded the word, but he saw fit to become something akin to an "Assassin". If he was to fight monsters and only monsters, focusing on strength would have done him a lot better, but humans were craftier and more resourceful, so he had to overcome that with difference in skill.
If huntsmen were built big and strong, he would be small and lithe - a counter.
Standing up from his seat, Viscus put all four points into his DEX and went to prepare himself a meal. He hadn't eaten since the night prior, a tinge of nausea pushing away any thought of food.
His stomach may not have groaned, but it was empty nonetheless, and he would rather be fed and have enough energy for his future "hunts" and whatever else the world thought to throw at him. It was still morning though, nearly noon, and a desire for survival pushed away any thought of taking a longer break than he already had.
More training, more meditating, more thinking. Until he was stronger, faster, and more prepared than anyone he would face. But he wasn't going to stop at only those. If he ever hoped to stand against any huntsman-level combatant, then he needed the gear to match.
And that made him pause while taking out the microwaved food.
Gear. Weapons better than any he had, with prefixes better than "Extremely Low". A deep desire rose within him as he imagined himself standing with a massive rifle that pierced through any and all armor, and a melee, a dagger, his mind supplied, that cut through all obstacles.
But the dream only lasted for a few seconds at the realization that he didn't even have a skill called "Crafting" or anything related to it. He grumbled as he set the food on the table, and began thinking about that issue.
If he was to create weapons and armor, he needed both knowledge, experience, and most important of all, the equipment. The System's capabilities gave little hope that crafting would be as simple as pressing a button, given that he even needed food and water to survive in spite of [Gamer's Body].
He racked his brain for ideas, but he didn't know if there was any place that had all three. Maybe some exploration would bear fruit, he hoped, then wolfed down his meal before taking off to the streets.
-CEM-
The sun was barely peeking when Viscus found himself standing in front of a shop called "Life's Guard". From the name and two signs with a sword and gun on either side of the logo, the Gamer guessed this was what he was looking for, and the juiciest thing was on the door, a help wanted sign.
"This is it." He psyched himself and was about to open the door before it slammed into him and he was knocked off his feet. Stunned and confused, he shook his head and stared at the offenders, two men giving him a mean stare and a challenge to say a word in protest.
Incensed, Viscus quickly stood up and was about to speak before the complaint died in his mouth. Behind the opened door a cashier was staring at them, and that made him pause. He was about to go and try to apply for a job, and breaking out into a fight right in front of them would paint him in a bad light.
"Anything you wanna say, huh?" They glared at the blond who then clenched his hand.
'Don't do it, Viscus.' His brain supplied, 'Do not', but it fell on deaf ears. His breath quickened, and his face turned into a snarl. Resistance mounted to no avail, his instincts roaring at him to teach them a lesson, to get back at them for hurting him and not even feeling apologetic about it. Where was the human decency?
The two men watched Viscus as he shook in place. "Apologize." He warned, and they glanced at each other.
One of the men sneered. "For what, tiny guy? You should be thank-"
In that instant, the Gamer lunged at the men, consequences be damned. He wasn't about to bow down to two thugs, and he could find another shop if need be!
Having gotten the first move, Viscus smashed his fist in the first man's face, putting all his strength behind the blow. The shop's door closed with a ring as the man hit the floor with a pained cry and a broken nose. The other man found his abdomen caved in just as his friend hit the floor. His breath was pushed out of him, and his body bowed forward, yet Viscus followed up by grabbing the man's hair and dragging him to the floor face first.
Dust blew as the man tumbled to the ground, and Viscus stood over the two with one arm frozen in the air. His breaths slowed as he regained some clarity, and he gulped. The two were groaning on the ground, one clutching his bleeding nose and the other rolling on the ground with labored coughs.
Taking a deep breath, Viscus retracted his arm and harrumphed. "Y-you should have apologized, now get out of my sight."
The two soon found enough power to get up and escape, and Viscus watched them as they crossed the street and disappeared behind a corner. He clenched his teeth, feeling mad at this cursed place called Vacuo. It was as if no one even cared about others, and the instant reaction to making a mistake was to stand behind the decision even if the person was completely in the wrong.
His heart felt some regret at the reaction. It wasn't appropriate, but that didn't stop him from feeling angry at their actions. He wasn't even in the wrong, and they wanted him to be the one bowing down.
Taking a deep breath, he looked back at the shop and shook his head. Whether he should have held his hand or not didn't matter anymore, they'd probably want to avoid a person who would rise to a challenge that easily. Unfortunate, but expected.
However, just as he was about to leave, the shop's door rang and he was face to face with the cashier, a blond, tanned lady who glanced at him and the corner the fleeing men went into, then whistled. "Didn't expect to see those men running like chickens anytime soon."
Viscus groaned, "I guess. Sorry for fighting in front of your shop, I'm gonna leave now."
"Why? You looked like you wanted something." She tilted her head, and the Gamer blinked.
"Uh, are you not mad that I fought in front of your shop?" The words made her chuckle. "D-does this happen a lot?"
"Don't worry, it does happen a lot. Hate these assholes anyway, they deserved it." She grumbled, and Viscus chalked it to a Vacuo thing before she continued. "So, reason you're here?"
Viscus decided to take the chance. "I saw the help wanted sign," He pointed at the door, "And I was interested in learning how to make weapons and stuff."
"Really? Then come on in." She motioned for him to follow.
The first thing that greeted Viscus was the sound of the door bell ringing, then the contrasting cold air. The shop had a silver and gray theme, with shelves standing perpendicular to the reception desk just opposite the entrance, and on these shelves were various weapon parts and, to his far right, Viscus noticed floating holograms showing rotating weapons.
The air felt fresh in opposition to the sand filled one outside, briefly reminding him of home, and the calm music playing in the background gave it a good ambience that didn't quite match with the targeted audience.
While walking to the desk, Viscus couldn't help but wonder, "Say, don't you guys cater to huntsmen?"
She hummed in agreement, then manned the desk. "This shop has supplied many of the most successful Vacuan huntsmen for generations, and we pride ourselves on that."
"So, you want to work here, right?" The Gamer nodded, and the girl gave him a look over. "A bit on the short side," Viscus felt ticked by that, "But I think you could do it."
"Had any experience with weaponry before?" She asked while pulling out her scroll, and Viscus shrugged.
"Some, but I wouldn't say I'm experienced." She nodded and motioned for him to be silent as she held the scroll to her ear.
Viscus learned that she was talking to her father, most likely the owner of the shop, and she spoke to him about the Gamer's desire for employment. "Oh, what was your name again?"
"Viscus Lime."
A few seconds later and the scroll was back in her pocket. "My dad is willing to give you an interview, so just follow me."
Viscus took a deep breath and followed her to the employees only door. This was the first time he would be interviewed, and he wished to not screw it up. Maybe he would be surprised, though. Vacuo tended to do that.
-CEM-
Viscus stood in an office room on the second floor with a window to his left and a painting to his right. Between the two sat a bald man behind an ornamental desk that held a computer screen, papers, and some items of unknown shapes.
"So, Blayne told me you want to be employed here. Come closer."
The blond followed the command, cold sweat running down his back. Nervousness and anticipation filled him, but he held himself back while the older man stared him in the eyes. Something urged the blond to not look away, to win the staring contest, and it wasn't until 20 seconds had passed that the man nodded.
"That look in your eye, I've seen it before." The air froze at those words, and Viscus gulped, "You don't look like you're from here. I'd say an Atlesian?"
Viscus didn't know what was happening, but he shook his head.
"Vale? Mistral? Some backwater village? The moon?" The man clicked his tongue at the Gamer's lackluster response.
"What did you expect from coming here?" That was a question that Viscus could answer, and he hastily spoke.
"W-well, I wanted to learn how to make weapons and armor. I've been interested in doing that for a long time, but I just.. Needed some courage to try and apply."
The man raised his brow, then closed his eyes to think, or so Viscus believed. The reason he gave may have not been his true reason, but none of the words he spoke were lies. Even back home, he was interested in making weapon models on 3D programs, but he wasn't that good at it.
It was a hobby that he was introduced to by his friend, but he didn't try and take it to the next level since he was interested in other things.
"No."
Viscus blinked, the words taking a second to register in his mind. "No?"
"I don't believe you are fit to work here. We only need a certain type of person, and you don't fit the bill."
"Is it experience?" Viscus began to panic. "I'm willing to learn and I won't make any problems for your shop."
"That isn't it." The words didn't clarify anything, but the blond felt desperate.
"Please, I need this job." He didn't know why he was desperate for it, even though he was just about to go find another place, but something in his heart tugged at him to try and find work here.
"I'm sorry, but that look in your eye," He pointed at his own eyes, "I've seen it before, and I know it won't end well for either of us."
Viscus didn't understand. What look in his eyes? What about his eyes made him unqualified? From desperation came frustration, and the blond had enough. "Fine. Fine!" He stomped his way out of the room and went downstairs, and he saw the girl, Blayne, as he was exiting the backrooms.
"So, how did it go?" She smiled, then frowned, "You didn't get the job, did you?"
Viscus meant to pass by her and leave, but she stood in front of him. "Wait."
Against his better judgement, he stood in place and growled, "What?"
"Woah there, bud, I was about to suggest something but I guess you're now too busy for that, huh?" She waved her hands exaggeratedly, and Viscus took a deep breath.
"I'm sorry. I'm not feeling too good right now."
"Well, you're not the first guy to come back looking like that, but I think you're different from the others. I have a plan, and if you manage to do it, I can try and convince dad." She crossed her arms while looking smug, and Viscus was annoyed by that. Instinctually, something felt wrong, but her words were appealing. He motioned for her to continue.
"So, those two guys you punted just a while ago, they come from a gang called the Hoarders." The Gamer slowly nodded, so she continued, "Our place pays protection money, which is what they were here for before you came in/"
Viscus began to connect the dots, and she finished. "Since you have a good punch on you, I'd like you to go and beat them up. They'd probably disband after that, since they don't really have a lot to them after the Blues ate a big portion of their territory."
The Gamer was confused, "Beat them up? On my own? Don't they have guns?"
"Don't try and trick me. I've seen you glow green while punching these guys. I know you have Aura."
Viscus stared at the woman in front of him with a blank expression while his mind warred.
On one hand, him getting tasked to fight would align with his goals of getting more experience and leveling up.
He didn't have to consider the other hand after thinking about it this way. If he was going to fight, then he might as well get rewarded extra for it, even if his morals were screaming bloody murder.
"Okay, fine, but you better convince your dad, or I'll.. I'll beat you up too." He stuttered, and she laughed.
"Sure thing, bud. Now here is the plan.."
At that time, Viscus didn't know if his eyes were playing a trick on him, but he felt that her grin turned into a Cheshire's for a brief moment.
Hello again, Pasta is not dead!
Firstly, many a thanks for the (by this release) 109 followers and 82 favorites. Believe me when I say this, I didn't expect this story to get any traction since it's heavily OC based.
I have no intention of quitting while we have yet to even play, so I'd be thankful for your patience. Learning how to become a 5 star meal takes a lot of time, which means less going into writing stories.
If we're lucky, then by next friday, or the one after, we'd have another release. If not, then more wait, I guess.
Now about this chapter: reason of its delay was actually two-ways. One was me being actually busy, and the other was a realization.
See, this chapter actually was mostly written around two weeks ago, but it didn't feel right. Reason?
There was no struggle.
Pasta fell back on the habit of giving the character what he wants, which is not what Dragged Along stands for.
After all, things are never going to be easy.
Now onto the next meal, soon TM!