The Fool's Freedom

Alan grabbed his spear and waited. The voices were not overly agitated or loud, but you never knew. He was an outsider, and outsiders were bad news for small gangs that wanted to hold as much power as possible. Especially outsiders donned in strange leather armor and armed to the teeth with weapons.

The voices came closer and Alan prepared himself. The anticipatory feeling, he got before a battle returned, and the cold adrenaline heated up his veins.

The barrel covering the top part of the door abruptly disappeared, and Alan froze.

It was not a gang of enemies, nor a stranger.

Ashlyn’s shocked face stared at him wide-eyed. She looked different; her black hair was longer and there was some strange quality to her eyes that screamed danger, making him instinctively step back.

Her clothes were also strange, a leather vest with intricate leaf patterns. Bracers that covered her arms from the elbow to the knuckles of the hand. Nice, leather pants and a belt from which were hung a small axe, and a large sheathed knife, similar to a machete. A dark green cloak hung off her shoulders, and Alan saw the strap of the system-provided bag, the same as his, diagonally on her chest.

There were other, more significant changes, starting with her eyes. Her posture was different, her presence oppressive. Ashlyn’s arms were bare from the shoulder to the elbow and while she had always loved to exercise and stay in shape, she had put on some extra muscle mass.

Alan was jealous.

“Hey Ash-,” he greeted before the girl barrelled over the crate still covering the bottom half of the door and jumped into his arms, bringing them both to the ground.

Alan grunted as the hard concrete floor was not a nice thing to fall onto, but also smiled in happiness through the pain.

Reunited at last.

“How are you doing, best friend? Miss me?” Alan teased, trying to laugh away the tears forming at the corners of his eyes. He had rarely cried in his life, but seeing Ashlyn after what he had been through, made him too emotional to hold back.

Ashlyn rose, pinning him with her bodyweight. Her face was stained in tears, and she snarled like a beast.

“You stupid, dumb, idiotic, son of a bitch! What the fuck, Alan, what the fuck?! How could you!”

“Not the face!”

Her balled fist hit him in the upper peck and Alan grunted. She was strong. He tried to grab her wrist, but she easily broke from his grip and hit him again, harder.

“Ouch Ash, come on. I know you are happy to see me but that’s a bit much!”

“Do you have any idea-,” she choked on a sob and tears streamed from her eyes again. Alan hugged her tight and let her cry. He saw Walter watching from the door, smiling. Alan smiled too.

“I’m okay Ash. I’m glad you are okay too.”

The girl cried for a few more minutes, before she rose again, still straddling him.

Her eyes were cold now, dangerous. Her fists were ready to fly.

“Talk,” she said.

“Can we at least stand up?”

“Talk!”

“Ugh.”

Alan spent the next hour recounting what had happened and how lucky he had been to live until now. He shared freely, almost whispering, although Walter seemed to have decided to let them have some privacy and Alan didn’t care if he overheard or not. He had no secrets.

At some point during the story, Ashlyn stood up and let him stand too. They sat, in the corner of the almost empty room, on a few rough crates. He talked, giving her the abridged version, and she listened and asked questions. She had many, and Alan freely answered everything, going as far as to show her the demon. Thankfully, Xil’Garoth didn’t wake up or it would have been a nightmare to explain things to him. The only thing he did not mention was the run-in with the spirit. Something stopped him, despite his attempts to talk about it.

When the story was over they remained silent for a while, and then Ashlyn shared her side. How many times she had searched for him, how she had killed and hunted and leveled up farther than anyone else she knew of. How her class was not as simple as it sounded and how afraid she had been, but pulled through and fought. At the same time, she also seemed to have found a new life roaming the forests and fighting for her life.

“So, what’s the deal with the Sanctuary and the gangs?” Alan asked after they had caught up on each other.

“I don’t care, to be honest. As long as they are not too evil, and don’t get in my way, I leave them be.”

“Are you that much stronger?”

“Well, by my estimate, no. I am deadlier though. And even most [Archers] cannot shoot better, trust me on this. There are other [Hunters] too, it’s a popular class, but we seem to all be different.” Ashlyn replied.

Alan loved to see her so confident, despite all of her accomplishments she had rarely spoken like that about herself. The difference did make sense, as the System seemed to offer them skills that were at least somewhat related to their choices, experiences, or needs. And just maybe, talents. But how would [Hunter], a class that specialized in tracking prey and hunting it down, be a better shot than a class specialized in shooting things from afar?

“I don’t understand, how are you doing it?” He asked after mulling it over.

Ashlyn sighed. “Most [Archers] and [Hunters] go for Dexterity, speed, being nimble. Some even have magic. And that is all fine and I have skills that help with that, but to me, personally, a bow is above all else a weapon that requires Strength.”

She took her bow from where she had propped it against the wall and gave it to Alan.

“Try and pull the bowstring,” she said.

Alan grinned. She still thought he was as weak as before, huh? He stood up and with a flourish took what he assumed was a superbly executed archery stance.

“Stop clowning and try,” Ashlyn spat, unimpressed.

“You’re just jealous I look better,” Alan replied and tried pulling the bowstring.

Trying was as far as he seemed to get, as it barely budged.

He tried again, putting all of his strength into it.

“What the fuck.” Alan gave up and stared at the beautifully carved bow, in line with her armor. It seemed to be a piece of enchanted weaponry.

Alan took out the monocle and stared at the bow.

Artisan Long Bow

It was not enchanted?

“Is this not the enchanted weapon from the quest?” Alan asked, staring at the bow.

“No. I traded for it in the Temple.”

Wow.

Alan silently returned the bow to Ashlyn and watched in amazement as she pulled the string with almost no effort.

“The fuck, dude.”

“I am a [Hunter] but I specialize in Strength, with Dexterity close second, of course. Few titles and traits make up the difference and allow me to have almost the best from both.”

“I noticed you got new guns,” Alan said and nodded toward her arms.

Ashlyn laughed and flexed, “You are not doing so bad yourself. Suffering in the tunnels amidst the rats and aliens must’ve done wonders for your body. You are not as skinny and sickly as before.”

“It was thanks to-,” Alan felt a sense of dread and his mind quickly diverted from what he was about to say, “-a skill I got. The smarter I am the prettier I am.”

What the fuck was that?

“Anyway, I am glad we’re both okay,” Alan said changing the topic.

“I still haven’t forgiven you for making Florence use her creepy skills on me and making me leave you behind…” Ashlyn pouted.

“It was shitty of me, yeah. Sorry. I won’t do it again. Feels like I had a death wish and the only reason I am here is being stupidly lucky. What’s up with Florence anyway?”

“Beats me. I avoided her, she avoided me. She charmed Davis, though, and I saw them in the forest, talking about some other Sanctuary nearby.”

“There are other Sanctuaries here?” It was obvious there were, but he didn’t think they would be very close.

“Possibly. I haven’t found one. I’ve been focusing on finding the human-faced snake, there have been a few sightings and deaths… want to come with me? It will be worth a lot of levels.”

Alan remembered the frozen mask as if it was yesterday. Oh, how he wished to fuck that thing up for everything it had done. For even existing.

“Hell yes.”

“Good. We go tonight, no sense in losing time. You can stay at my place after.”

Walter’s head suddenly popped in, “Sorry to interrupt, but there are some of the… Future, here to see you.”

Ashlyn’s eyebrow shot up and she put the hood of her cloak on.

Alan once again felt weird anticipation build up in his chest. Was he becoming a bloodthirsty battle maniac?

The two of them walked out, followed by Walter.

They were waiting for them on the street. Alan instantly recognized Ivan and Tim who were hanging in the back, leaving space for a man dressed in a fairly well-kept suit mixed with joint armor. His hair was cut short and Alan saw some rings glistening on the man’s hand.

Jewelry or items? Rings were always precious items in RPGs.

He was flanked by a woman and another man, both of whom were dressed in a mix of recently crafted clothes and Earth clothes.

“Ms. Jeong, so nice of you to come out. And who is your friend?” the man smiled and opened his hands.

“The fuck do you want, Cole?” Ashlyn spat.

Alan smiled and took his cue.

The man to the left, a short but dangerous-looking fellow who seemed agitated, took a step forward and opened his mouth ready to return the insult, only to shut it as Alan’s spear rose to point right at his nose.

Huh, why did I do that? It didn’t matter, the punk was about to play gangster, and that was a no-no. It felt good to be worse than the worse.

There was a prolonged silence before Alan lowered his spear and laughed, “Sorry, sorry, thought you were someone else for a second.”

The man frowned but didn’t take another step forward, eyeing the spear, “Who?” he asked.

Alan grinned wider, “A kobold I used to know.”

It took a few seconds but the man’s eyes seemed to give off sparks, and a faint bronze color suddenly appeared all over his skin, “Motherfucker, I will-,”

Cole put a hand on the man’s arm just in time as Alan was preparing to cast [Synaptic Failure].

“Calm down Dusty, calm down. Gentlemen and ladies, please, no need to be hostile. We are trying to build a society here.”

Cole pulled Dusty back, the latter still seething and throwing Alan a murderous gaze, and took a step forward.

“I simply came here to meet our new formidable resident. Nothing more. Anyone who has survived for so long out there, and only now joins the Sanctuary is bound to be special. My name is Cole, a [Chief], and I run parts of this place. Nice to meet you,” he extended his hand with a smile.

“Can we do the left, I hurt the pinky on my right,” Alan suddenly said and extended his newly enchanted hand.

Cole blinked but happily did the same and they shook hands, making no attempt to crush Alan’s hand and establish dominance. Alan found himself disappointed as he wanted to see how much his new bones could take, and no wannabe gangster would pass the opportunity to do that. It was a rule! Pity.

“Name’s Alan and I can curse people by touching their skin.”

Cole’s smile wavered and he looked at his left hand suspiciously, before returning to his cheerful self. His left eye, however, started to gently twitch.

Alan was sure the new him and Ashlyn could take anyone, and those guys’ whole presentation screamed wannabe mobsters. He didn’t like what Walter had alluded to either. It was a bit disturbing how eager he felt to fight.

“We have accepted it as a custom to introduce ourselves with our classes, in Sanctuary 142,” Cole said. The woman next to him was looking at Alan with an intensity he didn’t like.

“Oh, that’s a shitty custom, Cole. Information is power,” Alan replied. From the corner of his eye, he saw Ashlyn smirk.

“You are tough hiding behind a woman, little man?” Dusty exclaimed from the side.

Alan looked at the man like he was stupid, “Jealous?”

“Gentleman. Please,” Cole once again interjected, “Let us remain civil.”

Alan felt something was off. He looked towards the woman and felt a foreign force try to crawl up his mind.

[Shadow Mind] came into play at that instant, retaliating.

There was a scream as the woman fell backward into the surprised Tim who had been silently observing until now with a look of pure terror in her eyes. She mumbled something, then screamed.

“What did you do?!” Cole asked and knelt next to the woman.

“Nothing much, but this movie is rated R,” Alan replied and winked at Ashlyn, who had an arrow readied in her bow.

Walter was sweating behind them, probably shocked at how the situation had devolved.

“Make it stop!” Cole demanded.

“I can’t. It’s an automatic response to people not keeping their hands close,” It was semi-true. Alan felt like he could control [Shadow Mind] to an extent, and he could even allow attacks through the shield. Maybe trying [Synaptic Failure] on himself would give him more stuff? He shelved that idea for later.

It took the woman about ten to fifteen seconds to deal with whatever horrific vision she had seen, and she glared at Alan. There was fear in her hateful gaze this time around.

Alan simply raised his hands, “Sorry.”

Cole was standing now, looking torn on what to do, and quite pissed off. There was obvious fear as he looked towards Ashlyn, and a lot of rage when his eyes stopped on Alan.

“Enough,” Dusty said, “Do you dare fight me?”

“Don’t!” the now pale woman said through gritted teeth.

“Now, here?” Alan asked.

“Yes, as is custom,” Dusty ignored his companion’s plea and showed his teeth. His glaring was annoying.

Alan was confident [Synaptic Failure] gave him an absolute advantage over most humans, still, he didn’t know the other person’s abilities at all, so it was risky. What if he had a flamethrower or something? A surprise attack at the very start was probably the best bet.

“What would be the rules and what are we betting?”

“To surrender, incapacitation… or death. We bet enchanted items.”

Alan looked towards Cole, who seemed content to watch things unfold.

He is confident in his companion’s strength, huh? Should I risk it?

“Do it.” Xil’Garoth’s whispered in Alan’s mind. Ashlyn stayed silent and took a step back, ready to dish out death.

Alan grinned, “What do you have for me?”