Silence fell over the clearing as Wren looked to Morgan in confusion.
"That's a strange question, surely you jest right?"
"Afraid not. What's a noble? Is it some type of social position?"
Wren stared at him silently for a few seconds, his face rapidly flitting between emotions before it stopped on confusion again. Raising his hand, he gestured for Morgan to stay and wandered over to the fire where he started to whisper with Iskandar.
Unsure why it was so hard to get a simple answer, Morgan continued to chow down on the stew. Eventually, after a few minutes of hushed conversation, Wren wandered back over with a look of barely masked pity on his face.
"Um… I'll get to nobles in a minute, but first. Do you happen to know where you are, or the date?"
"I have no idea."
Morgan realised quite quickly, that the other two probably saw him as someone either with amnesia, or ignorant. And while he could correct them, it was the truth – he was ignorant. It was easier to just play along so his questions didn't seem as out of place.
The other man's fiery red eyes traced his dishevelled form, eventually settling on the makeshift bandage wrapped around his head, likely connecting the wound he received from Pret, to his supposed amnesia.
"Oh. Well, for future reference, you're currently in the Malgorn kingdom, and the year is 947 AB. As for your earlier question, a noble is someone who was granted power and land by the king."
He nodded along, memorising the information for later as a smile crossed his face.
It seemed his initial assumption was correct. Nobles were probably more trouble than they were worth, they could however, be a good source of funding in the future. But only once he'd established his own worth.
"Thanks, the information is appreciated. Now, we should probably get going, we've been here too long."
He groaned as he shakily rose to his feet, his face pale from pain and sweat dripping down his brow. Stepping forward, he stumbled sightly as his feet lagged behind, but managed to catch himself.
Step by tenuous step, he shambled towards the campfire and flopped down onto one of the many log seats, all under the silent observation of Wren.
"I think its best if you stay here for now. You're clearly in no condition to walk and you'd end up getting yourself injured. Besides, what am I meant to do with these people if you leave, sure, they'll probably return to their senses in a few days, but they're still baggage."
He hadn't thought of that. Till now the people milling about the clearing like zombies hadn't been a concern of his, he'd assumed Wren would take them to the nearest village and leave them there.
But apparently he wanted Morgan's help with them, an idea that made him chuckle.
"My condition isn't that bad. Besides, can't you just deliver these people to the nearest town and be done with them?"
Wren looked away skittishly, and mumbled something under his breath.
"Sorry, say again?"
"I don't know where we are!"
For once it was Morgan's turn to look confused, he'd pointed him in the direction of the road before he passed out, hadn't he?
"We're in the woods… the road shouldn't be that far from here, just follow it to a village."
The other man's face turned as red as his hair as he looked up at the trees. Slowly it dawned on him – this man had gotten them lost.
"You don't know where the road is, do you?"
"…No. I got turned around! Navigating is hard!"
Morgan looked at him incredulously. He just needed to go straight for less than five minutes and he would have been on the road. This was probably the reason he was in the goblin camp in the first place, he got lost.
"At least tell me, you know where the goblin camp is?"
"Yeah!... no. I think it was that way, or maybe it was that way?"
He pointed once to the north and then to the west before stopping and scratching his head in confusion.
'Great, so now we're lost. Maybe Iskandar knows the way.'
"Iskandar, do you know which direction either the road or the goblin camp was?"
"…yes… I memorised… the way. We can… leave… after I have… some food."
His opinion of Wren plummeted more with every new thing he learned. Shooting a glare at the other man, he dished up a bowl of stew for his friend. They'd already starved once, it would be cruel to starve them again.
He gently poured the warm broth into their open mouth, making sure they weren't about to choke or burn themselves. While most people would typically hate helping someone like this, Morgan wasn't too fazed.
Back on earth he'd looked after his mother as she recovered from cancer, it had been a long and difficult time, but by the end of it she was back on her feet and healthy.
Idly, he wondered how she was doing. She likely would never find out how he disappeared, as the whole project was highly confidential, and would be told he died in a workplace accident – as was protocol.
A wave of melancholy crashed over him as his mood dipped. He'd never see her again, or his friends for that matter. The probably had it the hardest. While his mum would eventually be told of his 'death' and could get closure that way, his friends would probably continue the search.
He knew them well, as long as there wasn't any wreckage, they'd believe he was still out there. How many weeks or years would it take them to realise, they'd never find him?
"Hey Morgan, are you okay? You started crying."
Embarrassed, he hastily wiped the tears from his eyes before putting on a fake smile. He couldn't allow himself to fall to feelings of regret and loss, not while he still had breathe in his body and life in his eyes.
Afterall, maybe it wasn't the end. He'd already done most of the hard work in designing the ship that brought him here, maybe he could build one to take him back.
"Yeah… I'm okay. I was just thinking of my family, it'll be a long time before I can see them again."
"I'm… sorry for your loss."
"It's okay. They're not dead, just really faraway. Further than I could ever reach in a single lifetime."
The two sat in silence as Iskandar finished off two bowls of soup before being content, a gentle green glow appearing over their entire body. Setting the empty bowl aside, Morgan stood up and started to shamble towards the treeline. He had a few things to take care of first, then he planned to complete the class change ritual.
Yet, before he could leave, a hand awkwardly tapped his shoulder. Turning, he saw Wren looking at him like he was about to confess his undying love.
"Um… could I see your status screen Morgan? It's okay if you wanted to keep it private, I just thought…"
It was a truly strange request, one he'd never received or thought he'd receive. But he saw no problem in showing the screen, it was after all just numbers.
"Sure, let me just… figure out how to do that."
"…wait. Show me… first, please."
Morgan scratched his chin in thought as he looked at the two people in front of him. One was a red-headed guy of suspicious origins, the other was a living corpse of equally dubious background.
Still, he trusted them both to an extent and had nothing to hide. So instead of coming back later to show just Wren, he gave them both access to his status screen
"Well, you two have fun with that. I'm going to borrow this knife for a bit, back soon."
The system was more intuitive then he initially thought, only requiring a brief mental command to share his status with the two. Finished with that, he picked up a small not rusted knife and wandered off. He needed to take a whiz, and then start his class change.
************** POV – Wren **************
Name:
Morgan Astraeus
Gender:
Male
Species:
Human?
Titles:
The Starman, Pr%$^#(@r
Level 1 (0%)
Strength
8
Agility
7
Dexterity
13
Endurance
9
Vitality
24
Intelligence
29
Wisdom
27
Charisma
6
Luck
9
Wren stared at the status screen in confusion.
It was odd. On the surface, it looked mostly normal, but he knew better, and on closer inspection he realised there was more than one problem.
For one, the stat distribution was impossible. Typically a person at level 1 would have stats ranging between 6 and 9. If they were focused and trained a specific stat, then sometimes they could get it up to 15 max, but never any more.
The reason was simple - the body couldn't handle any more than that.
Without a class, the body acted as a blank slate and grew uniformly as a person aged. Naturally, all stats would grow at the same rate, keeping them mostly uniform and preventing the body from straining too far in any one direction.
However, with the aid of a class, people were able to bypass this limit without straining their bodies. It acted as a stabilising agent and would provide a template for the body to fill out, guiding the growth of stats in a way the person could handle, and eventually allowing them to specialise.
Yet, Morgan wasn't like this. His base stats were all over the place, ranging from as low as 6 in charisma, to as high as 29 in intellect. But somehow, he lived, despite the fact his body should have combusted long ago, ripped apart at the seams by his own mind as his body failed to keep up.
Then there was the man's species. Human?
It was as if the blessing itself was unable to tell exactly what he was and clumped him together with the closest match, which if true didn't bode well for anyone. He could have understood if Morgan was a half breed or demi species, but the blessing would have said that.
Finally, the man lacked a class. By Wren's estimates he had to have been in his early thirties, if a little older, which by itself wasn't too odd. But to not have a class at that age? Unheard.
Classes grew with the person, integrating themselves into the very core of a person. For this reason, it was seen as outlandish for a person to not have a class by the age of ten, as to deprive someone of a class, was to deprive them of the ability to grow.
Wren was also an oddity in this matter, but not because he lacked a class. No, he'd had his class since he was five. He'd just never gotten the opportunity to level it up, hence leaving him stuck on his first class for almost twenty years.
It would change soon though, he was almost at level 25 and once there he would be able to choose his next class.
But back to Morgan, the man was an enigma, something that by all social standards and physical laws shouldn't have existed. It was puzzling, and slightly concerning to him.
He watched as the man in question walked around in circles, tracing something into the ground with a stick. Perhaps his companion would know more?
"Iskandar was it? I assume he showed you his status as well. Do you know why it's so… strange?"
"…Yes, he's truly an odd… one. Truthfully, I've only… known him… for around five… days. But I… believe… the answer lies… with his titles… they are quite… enlightening."
Sure enough, Wren had completely glossed over the two strange titles, more focused on the other oddities. The second one was scrambled and impossible to read, as the system itself censored its contents.
But the first… that held the answer to all his questions. And he wished he'd never read it.
[Title: The Starman – A being who fell to the planet from beyond the bounds of the system. They are unbound by fate, destiny, or any form of divine providence. ERROR: *#(#&)@ ]
Wren was… lost. The world he knew since birth seemed to crumble around him, as more emotions than he knew how to deal with, raged through his mind as one. Shock, fear, disgust, joy, dread, awe, confusion, and more.
It didn't make sense. How could someone, something, be from beyond the system. The system was everywhere, in every object, tree, and person on the planet. It was the source of everything.
It must have been a joke. No, it had to have been a joke. A cruel, sadistic joke designed to break him. But… what if it wasn't.
"Please… please, tell me this is a joke? It can't be real, maybe someone altered his status?"
"…No. It's real. The… blessing… can only ever… show real… information… even if it's… not his true status… the title exists… and that… can't be faked… by any skill."
"But… How!? Look at it! It says he's from BEYOND the system, how is that possible! Why did he show us this!?"
His anger began to spike, as his gaze turned to the culprit.
He was taught from a young age that the system was connected to everything, that it existed even before the gods people worship first formed. The system was everything. So how did something like Morgan exist, and why did he show them this.
Wren had to know, and the answer was right there. Yet, before he could even move two steps, a dry, raspy voice stopped him.
"Stop. It's not his… fault. Look at… him, that's not a… monster bent… on destroying… everything, it's just a… guy. A naïve… ignorant… guy who… didn't know… any better. I don't… think he's even aware… what he showed us… I doubt he… checked his… own titles."
Sure enough as Wren stopped and actually looked at the source of his frustrations, it became clear. He was no monster, or warrior. He was just a man, a single man who was likely just as confused as they were.
Still, even knowing that. Wren had questions, and until they were answered, he couldn't be happy.
"Fine. I guess you're right, I'm still going to ask him though."
Without another word to the talking bag of bones, he jogged over to Morgan, just as he brandished a small knife and slid it across his palm.