Chapter 13
Written by Bayzo Albion
The tavern buzzes with warmth and noise — laughter, clinking mugs, the creak of old wood under too many boots.
"The cheapest drink and the cheapest food," I replied evenly, hiding the truth that my purse was nearly as empty as the inventory of a newborn player, my one remaining gold coins a fragile lifeline.
She tilted her head, sympathy flickering in her luminous gaze, as if she could sense the weight of my limited means. "Food here costs less than in the North, where scarcity bites harder. Perhaps you'd like to try something more filling? Something tastier, to warm the soul as well as the body?"
"All things are understood in comparison," I said, letting my voice carry the weight of a philosopher, though a playful glint danced in my eyes. "I want to try everything this world has to offer, to savor its depths and heights. But I'll start with the simplest—so I can appreciate the finest when it comes, building my palate for paradise's delights."
Her eyes softened, a spark of approval glinting within, as though I'd passed a secret test woven into her words. With a flutter of her wings, she vanished into the air—dissolving like a sigh on the breeze, leaving only a faint shimmer in her wake.
Moments later, she reappeared before me, materializing with the grace of a specter, her wings folding neatly as she set a broad wooden bowl piled with fresh vegetables—vibrant greens, ruby-red tomatoes, golden carrots—and a tall mug of clear, shimmering ale that gleamed like liquid starlight in the tavern's dim glow.
I leaned forward, inhaling deeply. It smelled clean, crisp—like the memory of rain on stone, pure and untainted, evoking forgotten moments of peace from my earthly life.
Paradise, huh? Even the beer looks holy.
Well then… time to see what paradise tastes like.
I lifted the mug first, its weight reassuring in my hand. One sip—and my eyes widened, a jolt of sensation coursing through me.
The taste was unlike anything I'd known: bitter-sweet, like honey blended with herbal tonic, yet light and fizzy, tingling across my tongue with effervescent delight. Back on Earth, I'd never cared much for alcohol—it dulled the senses, blurred the mind, turning clarity into a foggy haze. But this… this dissolved tension without clouding a single thought, each sip a cascade of clarity and warmth that invigorated rather than sedated.
Then the vegetables. Just vegetables—or so I thought, expecting simplicity. One bite and my jaw froze mid-chew, overwhelmed by the explosion of flavor. Crunchy, bursting with juice, each piece was packed with a crisp energy that surged down my spine, a harmony of earth and sun distilled into something miraculous. The sweetness of carrots, the tang of tomatoes, the fresh bite of greens—it was as if the essence of life itself had been captured in every morsel, a sermon preached to my taste buds that spoke of creation's boundless generosity.
Earth's food… it had all been counterfeit, a pale imitation of sustenance. Filler. Shadow. But here—here every bite was a revelation, a divine proclamation of flavor that awakened senses I hadn't known I possessed.
And suddenly my eyes stung, a wave of emotion crashing over me. Tears welled, hot and unashamed, sliding down my cheeks as the weight of this new world's beauty overwhelmed me.
"More beer!" I roared at the angelic waitress, voice breaking with raw emotion, the sound echoing through the tavern. "Better yet—bring me two mugs, and keep them coming!"
She only smiled, serene as ever, her wings fluttering gently as she nodded, as if she had known I would ask before I did, attuned to the rhythms of my soul. Moments later, she returned with the order, setting two mugs before me with a grace that made the act feel ceremonial.
I drank. I ate. Warmth spread through my body, not the sluggish haze of drunkenness but a glowing fire that made me feel invincible, every cell alight with vitality.
"Another!"
The mugs came, each one brimming with starlight ale, their arrival seamless as the waitress glided through the air.
"And another!"
She obliged without a word, wings fluttering softly as she moved back and forth, never spilling a drop, her presence a constant in the whirlwind of my indulgence.
I lost count of how many I downed—two, five, seven? Time blurred, but not my senses, each sip and bite sharpening my awareness rather than dulling it. My body filled with golden heat, my thoughts clearer than ever, as though every gulp was washing away layers of weakness I hadn't known I carried, peeling back the residue of my earthly life to reveal something purer beneath.
By the time I slammed the last empty mug on the table, the room tilted—not with drunkenness, but with possibility, the world expanding before me like a canvas awaiting its first stroke.
So this is paradise. Food that enlightens. Beer that baptizes. If I keep this up… I'll either ascend to godhood or die of happiness, consumed by the sheer intensity of joy.
Good thing my dimensional stomach finally kicked in, a marvel of this world's mechanics. It digested everything at an almost mechanical pace, neatly siphoning off the excess into some hidden reserve, as if my body were a vessel designed for infinite capacity. In the corner of my interface, a tiny icon pulsed cheerfully, reporting that my "internal reserves" were steadily filling, a quiet assurance that I could indulge without consequence.
So this is it—the beginning of a new life, unbound by mortal limits.
I leaned back in my chair, hands folded behind my head, a grin tugging at my lips that felt both reckless and triumphant. Food in my belly, ale in my blood, whispers of fame swirling through the tavern like smoke… and, somehow, a suspicious amount of attention from the local women, their gazes lingering with a mix of curiosity and intent that set my nerves alight.
Not bad. Not bad at all.
Let's see what comes next, what challenges or delights this world has tucked away in its corners.
I had just started to sink into bliss—hunger sated, beer humming pleasantly in my veins, the world simple and forgiving, with no decisions demanding my neck—when the tavern door creaked open, its hinges groaning like a warning.
Silence didn't fall, not completely, but the air shifted, a subtle tightening of the atmosphere. The boisterous laughter of the knights thinned, as though someone had pinched the thread of it between two fingers, muting its exuberance. A spoon clinked against a bowl, then stilled, its owner pausing mid-motion. Somewhere, a man stopped chewing mid-bite, his jaw frozen as if sensing a storm on the horizon.
I turned, my instincts flaring, the pulse of anticipation quickening in my chest. Something—or someone—had entered, and with them came the promise of change, a ripple in the fabric of this perfect world that hinted at the chaos I'd chosen to embrace.
I turned, my chair creaking slightly under me as the tavern's atmosphere thickened with anticipation.
She stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the fading light of the evening outside, her figure commanding the space without a word. Tall—no, taller than anyone else in the tavern, her presence stretching upward like a blade of shadow piercing the smoky rafters, drawing every eye and silencing every murmur. A hooded cloak draped over her frame, long and black as midnight, with metal boots glinting beneath its hem like stars caught in a void. She moved slowly, yet with the effortless grace of a predator stalking through underbrush, each step silent but impossible to ignore, the air seeming to part before her as if in deference.
She came straight toward me, her path unwavering, the hall's buzzing laughter from moments ago faltering, bending beneath the weight of her approach like reeds in a gathering storm. The knights' boisterous toasts died on their lips, replaced by uneasy shifts and averted gazes.
And then—without her even touching it—the hood slipped back, as if the air itself obeyed her unspoken command, revealing her in all her ethereal menace.
An elf.
But not like the ones I'd seen in games or books, those whimsical, forest-dwelling clichés with bows and leaf-woven attire. This wasn't a creature of gentle lore; she was terrifyingly beautiful, her features too sharp, too perfect, as if carved from marble by a sculptor obsessed with lethal precision. Hair of silver-white cascaded down her shoulders like strands of moonlight woven into silk, nearly translucent under the tavern's flickering lamps, catching the light in a way that made her seem not quite of this world. Her eyes—green, endless depths brimming with knowledge I could never hope to hold, ancient and unyielding—locked on mine with an intensity that pinned me in place. There was no coyness, no warmth in that gaze, only the cold authority of someone who expected to be obeyed without question, a queen among mortals.
"There you are," she said, her voice slipping into the room like a whisper of wind through ancient trees.