Far From Vanilla: Modded Game Reincarnation

“...I just ate.” I looked at the table, a large grilled steak on it.

Truthfully, I’ve somewhat overgrown the taste of meat, and was actually craving a little green greenery in my diet. But since Ironhold is an industrial city with questionable ecological practices, that is not a common commodity, with much of their imports being frozen meats from other cities. 

Cities I’ve intentionally haven’t researched about for the feeling of adventure.

And while meat is good with many meat-based dishes being exceptionally filling, it gets old after a long while. 

“Eat,” Came the simple response from Eric, who sat down on the opposite end of the table to eat his own grilled steak, “Replenish the nutrients your body used to heal you. You might be fine now but without proper rest, you’ll die sooner rather than later.”

“Listen to the boy,” I felt a hand fall on my shoulder. It was Rudolf’s. “If you don’t eat and only take regeneration potions, then your body will eat you.”

So that’s why I lost five constitution points. My body isn’t being healed out of nowhere, but the potions themselves are only expediting the healing process. On top of the blood and exhaustion, I lost plenty of nutrients too. No wonder I lost five-constitution points during my time in the Dungeon.

“Fine.” I agreed but before the fork even reached my mouth, I had to ask. “How’s the kid?”

“...Fine.” The guard only shook his head, “I think he’s in shock. His trauma runs deep, the loss of his parents resurfacing after realizing the culprit for their demise being his own blood.”

“It’s too much to bear for a kid so young.” I found myself saying but the truth was clear, Cody was in the best place he possibly could be– away from the hands of the Mercury Gang and under protection of by far the best warriors of the city. 

But something about it has been bugging me, why does his grandmother be the record keeper? It's just…random, out of place.

But who knows? I’ve only seen the thugs, who knows what the professionals standing by the sides of Frederick himself are capable of? And by the look on Rudolf’s face, the situation doesn't seem that good either.

But that has little to do with me. I’m only invested in that because of the boy, if it weren’t for him, I would’ve gotten out of dodge the second I walked out of that Church.

But the threat was closer to me than I would’ve liked. There was one in front of me, serving my meals. We were just as ignorant of the other, with Cody just getting caught in the middle. I don’t know whether or not that can be called a misfortune or blessing… 

But I'll definitely find out the truth, something to cheer the kid up if he wants to hear it.

He has the right to.

His grandmother was one of the ‘Handler’s’ of a specific cell spread throughout Mercury’s Criminal Empire.

“Are you really going…” His voice was weak, depressed, very unlike him in more ways than one. However he was finally acting his age. He was just a kid no older than ten, but he had always been acting as if he was in his late teens. 

He had to mature fast in the absence of his parents, being the only one capable of supporting his Grandmother and her problems. 

“I am.” 

I could only answer the boy solemnly, knowing that any exaggerated showing of other emotions will only further hurt him. There are some things in life that should be allowed to happen because although experience can be a cruel teacher, it is a teacher nonetheless. 

“Don’t worry,” I still told him, despite my best efforts not to. “I’ll sock the bastard so hard he’d wish he was never born.”

Obviously I was referring to the man that was responsible for all the trouble he’s been experiencing all his life, but nothing good will come out of knowing that man’s identity. A kid should play, not dedicate his life to revenge.

That was the job of the three adults around him.

“But to do that, I need to get stronger.” I needed to be stronger than I am now.

[Profile: Hyun / Race: Demon / Profession: Adventurer → (Rogue Warrior), Scholar → (Soul-Bound Contractor), Civilian / Level: 20] [Strength: 14(+3) / Speed: 17 / Constitution: 15 (+2) / Intelligence: 21 (+2) / Wisdom: 21(+4)]

“So one week,” I raised a finger and used it to poke at his forehead, “I’ll be strong enough in one week.”

Obviously the possibility of me running away was strong, I mean the donkey-pulled cart right next to us was a good clue, though it lacked the donkey. It was filled to the brim with provisions enough to last me two months in just dried meat. The canned provisions and the preservatives were also plentiful for just one person. 

It wouldn’t be strange to think that this is me preparing to leave this city for good.

Because that one person was me. I can't leave this unfinished.

“Then you’ll need this.”

I watched Eric put down an item inside the cart. I could already guess as to what it was based on the shape even though it was wrapped in cloth.

“Thank you.”

I gave my farewell and pulled my cart across the bridge, walking underneath the bars I once had by back against. It was a weird feeling, revisiting the place where I was so close to dying. 

I guess I didn’t like how I was reminded of my mortality, having graced death many times in a short amount of time. But what can you do? I groaned as I pushed the cart’s handle, a bar attached to two arms, an apparatus that allowed people to pull a cart in the front without using horses.

“Moving forward–” 

Because no matter what you do, there will always be a way around the hill you found yourself at the bottom of. Through, around, or over, it didn’t matter. What counts is that you moved forward regardless of speed.

To walk a mile, you just needed to take it one step at a time, and by the time I was nearing the tower I once took shelter in, it was getting dark. 

The second the final sack touched the floor, my ears caught the groaning of a familiar monster. I reached for the flail resting on my waist and flicked it at the walking corpse. 

The three spiked arms tore through the rotting head like it was nothing and a simple tug was enough for me to dislodge the skull clean off the spinal cord.

“Impressive, I must say.” The Journal chuckled. 

He wasn’t very chatty these past few days so sometimes I forget that he’s bonded into my mind, and not just into the book secured only my belt via leather straps. If I didn't know any better, I might’ve looked like a paladin to some bystander– something from an inquisitor group or something, with the thick book and flagellum.

 I was only missing a gigantic flag and some religious dogma to constantly spout. It was a funny image, but a worthwhile one.

“Your growth is quite satisfactory. Keep at it, and make sure to clean after yourself.”

We both looked at the attracted horde of monsters that was slowly filtering in through the dugouts around the tower. There were only zombies, a number that was not troublesome at all.

Thump!

I kicked the next zombie that tried to enter the tower, tossing the corpse of the first one at its legs to slow down its advance. With the little time that bought me, I slipped on my helmet and lowered the face-plate.

The gift wrapping in cloth was underneath my arm too, but I couldn’t unravel it by the time I was out the door. Tonight was just perfect to earn some experience points because the mechanics of the game was greatly affected by the celestial bodies.

Like how the moon and the sun’s powers are concentrated during midday or midnight, the disparity of values by the periods in-between and after those times are also affected. I could stretch my limbs for an hour or so, maybe to try and earn just one more level before dinner.

Thud!

I pushed the door closed and it did so with a heavy thud. My boots and gauntlets were covered in dirt and grime, my armor proudly bearing a few more scratches from the surprisingly sharp fingers of the zombies. Were they sharp because their nails still remained, or were their digits sharpened by their constant use to dig, claw, and lacerate?

Or was it the result of their souls being turned into creatures that harm the living? That was interesting information I needed to find some other time.

“How strange… the concentration of Miasma is very strong here…”

Or maybe not.

“Miasma? What are you talking about?”

“Use your senses, boy. Don't speak.” The journal hushed me, “Can you not feel it? The air around you?”

I didn't understand what he meant but I followed. Opposition against the journal is always met with a monumental revelation. 

My eyelids closed shut and my breathing sound became louder than the outside world, as if the rotten groaning and the clicking bones were being drowned out.

The amount of time I spent in that meditative state is unknown but the longer I stilled my mind, the clearer the surroundings became to me.

The topography naturally did not make itself known, but as the seconds passed, I felt a substance glance my naked skin.

It was a foul, wretched feeling, something on the level of a detestable air making contact with your skin.

It was something like a poison that pricks you just from being in proximity with it.

Flinch!

I opened my eyes and was reminded by the weight on my body that I was in fact not unarmored. 

In that moment, another layer of the world made itself known to me. The darkness of the outside world was as foul as the beings I just had slayed.

A disgusting presence, a ghostly touch from a fiendish cloud of all things evil– a concentration of suffering, sadness, and regret.

“...Yuck.” I shivered inside my armor, despite being comfortably wrapped in multiple layers of clothes. My undershirt, padding, chainmail in some areas, and the plate on top of that.

But I couldn't shake the feeling of the ‘Miasma.’ It's not something I can forget, much less desire to understand.

“Pitiful aren't they?” The Journal calmly stated, but I felt a tinge of sadness in his voice. “Born an infinite amount of time, and they only spent a portion of it because of Ignorance and small-mindedness.”

“Was that–”

“Yes, the souls of regret. They are an otherworldly force so great they haunt the night and unless a space is purified and property maintained.”

I blinked and looked at the journal. It was now on the table. Since when…?

“Why do you think towns have churches? The purification of its borders is what keeps it from becoming a spawning ground of the night's monsters.”

I contemplated for a moment before I spun around to the sound of zombies groaning outside the heavy wooden door. They weren't beating it down thankfully, but it creeped me out.

What was this atmosphere? The journal started acting weird and it's creeping me out.

“But on occasion, there are times where in one area the concentration of this vile energy is way too strong and an uncommon phenomenon occurs.”

“Spawners.” I finished the thought he was trying to make. “There's one nearby?”

“Yes, but he forewarned–” the journal began to float to the center of the room, “Just because my world and your game are similar, it does not properly equate the dangers that now are real to you now.”

Spawners. They were structures that generated randomly around the world of Source and they were usually in the heart of a dungeon, and dungeons took many forms, from ancient temples hidden deep within the vast jungles, to grand pyramids that are hidden within a boiling desert, or even a humble tower-structure in the middle of anywhere—

I paused. I looked at the journal before running up the stairs. I reached the closest window and peered outside to the grounds surrounding the tower.

And as I imagined, at regular intervals zombies or skeletons crawled out of the ground, but not without reason or commonality.

They all spawned from a circular area around the tower.

Why didn't I notice it sooner?

“As expected, you are quick on the specifics, the discovery not so much. Luckily for you, only a set amount can appear at a time, proportional only to the strength of the Miasmatic Crystals” The journal hummed, floating up the stairs to my shoulder, “What will you do now?”

I see!

The only reason as to why there were periods of little to no-activity, was because of the entity limit! That's what we called it in source, but surely that should apply here too?

“What am I going to do now? I just found my way of getting stronger.”

I'll show you how a true Source-pro does things!