Damn it—this is Goldshire, isn't it?! Isn't Goldshire a starter village?! Why the hell is there something this terrifying in a starter village?!
In the lingering afterimage left by the lightning's fade and the darkness that returned, Allen almost made a sound—but he held it in.
He didn't know what the thing was, but if the enemy didn't move, neither would he.
Waiting in the darkness was agonizingly suffocating. It was so quiet that Allen could hear his own heartbeat.
Before long, another bolt of lightning slashed across the sky, briefly illuminating the room. The children—who moments ago had looked like six statues dredged up from the bottom of a rain-soaked lake and lined up in a row—had now moved aside and rearranged themselves into the formation of a pentagram.
What were they doing? Performing some kind of ritual?
Just as Allen's mind began racing at full speed, he suddenly heard a shrill, piercing scream from outside the inn.
The children forming the pentagram all turned toward the source of the sound.
The lightning faded, and the room was swallowed by darkness again. But soon after, the door was suddenly thrown open with force—Wren burst in, holding an oil lamp.
The moment he saw Wren, Allen let out a breath of relief and finally dared to get off the bed.
You actually came! Uncle Wren! Godfather! Dad!
"Shine the light over there, quick!" Allen pointed to where the children had just been standing. Though Wren had no idea what was going on, he didn't hesitate and walked over with the lamp.
But the corners where the pentagram had just been formed were now completely empty. Only damp patches of water remained on the floor.
"What the hell happened?" Wren was confused. He had just heard a blood-curdling scream, and his first instinct had been to check on the safety of his "ally," Allen.
"I don't know. This inn feels like it's got something dirty in it. Let's go outside and take a look." Allen threw on his clothes at lightning speed, got out of bed, and lit a lamp.
The two went downstairs. In the inn's first floor, the innkeeper sat there with a troubled expression, drinking alone, muttering under his breath, "It happened again… just like before…"
"What happened???"
Seeing that it was an esteemed guest asking, the innkeeper rubbed his bald head helplessly and said, "I don't know either. This is already the second time this month. Three weeks ago, also on a stormy night, a courier came here to stay and take shelter from the rain. Just before midnight, he suddenly screamed and ran down from upstairs. In the end, he ran out into the pouring rain in his nightclothes. He's been missing ever since."
He took another gulp of alcohol and continued, "Tonight, when the rain started again, I already had a bad feeling. Didn't expect the same strange thing to happen again. One of your fellow guests downstairs just now suddenly screamed and ran down from upstairs, then rushed out into the rain again. No matter how I tried to stop him or ask him what happened, he ignored me completely."
Walking to the door, the innkeeper pointed toward the faint silhouette barely visible in the forest whenever lightning flashed. "There—him. He's already run that far. If this keeps happening, my inn's going to go out of business…"
Wren stared intently for a moment, then began putting on his cloak. "You stay here. I'll go bring him back."
The moment he finished speaking, Wren rushed out.
"Wait for me! I'm coming too!"
With Wren gone, Allen immediately felt a loss of security. He wanted to follow, but the innkeeper stopped him. "Young Lord Prestor, it's too dangerous outside. You'd better stay here."
Thinking back to those six strange children… Allen felt it was hard to say which place was actually safer…
"Boss, what's your name?"
Allen suddenly thought of something. If this innkeeper was the same one from the Lion's Pride Inn in World of Warcraft, then this place should be safe—after all, even in the latest version of the game, the innkeeper was still alive and well.
"Just call me Farley."
Uh… Allen suddenly realized he had no idea what the Lion's Pride innkeeper's name actually was. He only knew Bob from Hearthstone.
Wanting to check how far Wren had chased, Allen glanced outside the door—and instantly froze.
"Mr. Farley, look…"
Farley followed the direction Allen was pointing—and saw that where the inn's front door had been just moments ago had now turned into a red brick wall.
Farley and Allen exchanged a look.
We're screwed!
The fireplace, candles, and oil lamps on the first floor all went out in an instant.
"Dubins! Dubins! Hurry and bring me my gun!"
"Bring me something too! Bring me something too! Anything that boosts Strength—any weapon or equipment is fine!"
Chaos erupted. Farley didn't even notice Allen's nonsense shouting.
There was no response at all from the Dubins Farley was calling for. In the darkness, Allen could only follow the clanking sounds Farley was making.
"Dubins! Where the hell did you die off to?!"
At last, Farley groped his way to his weapon stash and began rummaging through it wildly.
Allen also started frantically digging around, trying to find a piece of equipment that could increase Strength.
This one's common… this one too… damn it, this one boosts Spirit, this one boosts Intelligence…
Farley pulled out his musket, shouted "Who's there?!", and rushed forward.
At that moment, Allen finally grabbed a short sword:
[Blunt Short Sword]
One-handed, Sword (Excellent Quality)
8–15 Damage, Speed 2.1
+1 Strength
Overjoyed, Allen stood up and drew the sword—but realized that the entire first floor of the inn had fallen into complete silence. Even Farley's voice had disappeared.
The only thing he could hear was the system's notification:
[Fcking host, you're a fcking genius. In just one day, you've increased your Strength by a whole point. You're a once-in-ten-thousand martial prodigy!]
[Mission Objective: Increase your Strength by 1 point, 1/1]
Mission Name: To forge iron, one must be strong oneself (Completed).
Reward: Strength +5 has been granted.
Reward: Random low-tier spell is being drawn…
"…"
Draw successful. Congratulations—you have obtained the spell: [Grease].
Spell Details:
Level: 1st-circle
Effect: You designate a point within casting range. Slick grease spreads out from that point, covering an area.
When the grease appears, each creature standing within its area must make a saving throw. On a failed save, they slip and fall prone.
Note: I said you slipped—are you deaf?!