Class-A Threat (Disgardium Book #1) LitRPG Series Read online

Vendor discount: +2%

  Chance of receiving a unique quest: +0.2%

  Chance of receiving improved loot: +0.2%

  Fame: 0.

  As for clothing, I was wearing only standard novice stuff, no bonuses. Canvas pants and shirt, not even any footwear.

  In the game’s quality scale, my stuff was grey. The items were such low quality no vendor would even buy them. Normal white stuff was a bit better, somewhat more durable, but no bonuses.

  Bonuses started with the unusual, green. At the first levels, getting an enchanted green object was akin to a miracle. There were also supposedly rare blue, epic purple and orange legendary, as well as some set and scalable items. But I hadn't crawled far enough into the thicket of the game encyclopedia to even know what the last two were.

  And it was probably not going to be relevant for the foreseeable future. This was my gear:

  Novice’s canvas pants

  Shoddy

  Cloth armor.

  Armor: 1.

  Durability: 4/10.

  Requires level: 1.

  Sell price: 0.

  Novice’s canvas shirt

  Shoddy

  Cloth armor.

  Armor: 1.

  Durability: 7/10.

  Requires level: 1.

  Sell price: 0.

  The pants had less durability than the shirt after a memorable battle with an aggressive level-two bunny. I could probably have repaired it, i.e. gotten a patch and sewn it on, but that required a separate skill. Or to pay a tailor... That was the most painful issue in Disgardium, especially when you realized that, after the sandbox, game money could be easily withdrawn as real phoenixes. And by the way, I personally didn’t have a single bronze coin to my name.

  Basically, this novice gear was given to everyone. If I died, I could find a new set in my personal chest in the tavern. Identical canvas pants and shirt down to the stitching.

  Farming mobs unarmed with my stats was not only a drawn-out process, it smelled of masochism. So I would have to earn XP with long and routine social quests: fetching, delivering, cleaning, collecting... Experience and money. Money and experience. I needed to get together at least ten silver for more serious gear and maybe not a sword, but at least some shabby dagger.

  "Outta the way!" Someone hit me with their shoulder as they ran past.

  Unable to keep my balance, I fell off the road face-first into mud. A few more people ran past after him.

  "Where are you going?" I threw out, not expecting an answer.

  "A Class-Z Threat!" A strangely dressed level-six archer turned and shouted back at me. He had a helmet on his head that looked to be a cast-iron pot, and was forced to hold it with one hand to keep it from falling off as he ran. "Some necromancer raised a churchyard!"

  Ah, that was it! The game gave generous rewards for eliminating "threats" to the world (if you let a necromancer go wild, he might take over the globe!) …

  I got up, shook off the clods of damp soil and, walking cautiously on the edge of the path, headed to town. Players were rushing not to miss the threat and that was only to my advantage. Maybe we'd be able to take some kind of quest before evening while the city council was at work. A large amount of Tristad's quests were given by the Chief Councilman. Although that was only during the day while he was at work. Other NPC's lived their own lives and gave out quests only if they actually needed something.

  Approaching the city walls, I saw a row of black-market merchants stretched out along them. These were players just like me who didn't want to pay commission to the auctioneer or waste money on a market license. Or maybe they just wanted to unload their goods on the cheap. Now, honestly, there weren't very many people. I guess most of them had run off to eliminate the threat.

  The sun was already starting to sink behind the city wall, and shadows were falling on the market stalls. The monotone hum of commerce split into distinct cries of admonishment and the sound of people doing business.

  "Woven battle jacket! Plus two strength! Just three gold!"

  "Minor healing potions! Bulk discounts!"

  "Endurance and agility scrolls! From levelling prof, selling at cost!"

  "Just what do you think you’re doing?! Those ingredients are worth a penny! And what are you selling those things at, you miser?"

  "I don’t have any anti-greed scrolls, keep walking!"

  I decided to walk past and get some prices. I would have to get somewhat more appropriate gear and figure this all out eventually. For the most part, they were selling trash, second-hand goods, things grown out of. Nothing of particular value, often missing some durability. Still it was cheaper than buying new.

  "Are you looking for something in particular?" someone's hoarse voice made me turn around. A short lean level-nine player with the apt nick of Underweight looked over what I had on, then shrugged and came to a conclusion: "Not likely."

  "You a beginner?" asked a very tall girl by the name Overweight sitting next to him. In fact, she was half a head taller than me.

  In front of her there were piles of weapons sorted by type. Underweight had primarily clothing and armor. Sure, I guess they’d found their niche – take stuff on consignment or buy for more than the NPC merchants then resell at a premium.

  "I don't think so," Underweight answered. "He's fifteen, that means he's already spent a year here at least."

  "Wait a minute... I think this is that weirdo who’s always sitting next to the tavern! That's right!" She turned to me. "Is it you?"

  "Yes it is. Scyth."

  "How can we help you, Scyth?" the traders asked in unison.

  "I'm getting an idea of what I can buy to easily farm mobs."

  "Got it!" the boy exclaimed. "We'll show you everything! So... Level one... What's your strength?"

  "Two."

  "How much? Two? Uh... That, putting it lightly, was pretty dumb bro... I see. That means plate and mail are out. Give me a minute..."

  Underweight snorted, digging through the cloth and leather armor, setting things that might work for me in a separate pile. I shifted from foot to foot, thinking and listening to what the other sellers were shouting. I could make it to the city council building, there was still time, but then...

  "Don't listen to him," Overweight said. "Maybe you want to be a mage? Or a bard? Is there some reason you just hang around the tavern all the time?"

  "I haven't really thought about it..."

  "Well, there is still time. You can still make it. But you better figure it out now so you level the right stats from here on."

  "Thanks."

  "Think nothing of it. It’s common knowledge."

  "Still thank you, Overweight. And hey, why do you have that nick?"

  "You can't tell by looking? What do you think?" she snorted. "He's a hat rack and me... I've got big bones, ha-ha!"

  She couldn't be called fat, but she definitely wasn't delicate either, more like curvy. Plumpest of all were her thighs. Laughing it off, she took a skeptical look at her partner, his head buried in a pile of gear, then asked:

  "Well handsome, got any money?"

  "Not even one copper," I admitted. "I haven't done any work here."

  "So then, what made you waste all that time?"

  "I wasn't having fun," I shrugged, not knowing what else to say about my lack of activity in Dis.

  "It happens. But it’s a shame. And you know why?"

  "I can guess."

  "Because we don't sell on credit!" the merchant shouted. "Listen, Undy! False alarm! This schmo doesn't have any money! Empty pockets!"

  "What?" he whooped, throwing some shoulder pads in a fit and raising his head. "What are you doing wasting my time then, lazybones?"

  Underweight finished up and was not planning to continue. He stood at the improvised counter and looked angrily, puffing his nostrils. He was a head shorter than her, even though he was human not a gnome, which was funny to look at.

  "I’m not here to waste your time, uh, Mr. Underweight. I sa
id up front I was just looking, not planning to buy. So you think you can tell me what you’ve got?"

  He looked untrustingly, did the math and a smile spread out on his face:

  "My apologies for the... flare-up. That was just a misunderstanding. Our small but proud enterprise is always happy to give some help to beginners!"

  "And what does your small but proud enterprise have to offer a noob like me?"

  "Well, take a look," Underweight turned serious. "I picked out some cloth armor for you and a few leather pieces. The main one is a normal cloth Condor set: a chest wrap, pants, braces and shoulder pads. All white with no bonuses, but all together it gives a good boost to strength. I recommend you take leather boots right away and high ones at that. The main mobs are shorter than you at the beginning, so the first thing they'll bite at is your feet. I’ve got a leather belt too, though it is a bit shabby. But it does have a one-point endurance bonus. That’ll help you survive a bite or two extra. Also, it's best to take leather gloves, but I don't have any right now, sorry."

  "Come on, Undy!" Overweight shot out.

  "But will he ever get money?" he smiled.

  "We don't sell on credit!"

  "There's a first time for everything, Rita," not turning his gaze from me, the trader kept smirking. "I'm gonna do you a favor, brother. I'll give you this whole excellent set of beginner armor, which is worth more than two gold if you do two little things for me..."

  "I pay you back twenty for the two?" I smiled skeptically.

  "You pay me back exactly what I give you. Two gold and twenty silver. And that's with a wholesale discount!" Underweight raised his index finger. "But! When you grow out of the set, you give it back to me."

  "So you'd lease it to me?"

  "Yes. What kind of timeframe were you thinking for payment? How about a week?"

  "No thanks."

  "No? Are you serious? In that gear, you’ll be mopping up the city jail all by yourself tomorrow!"

  "Haha, very funny. Not likely. But thanks for the offer. As soon as I manage to earn some money, I'll come back and buy something. Sorry for wasting your time."

  The girl elbowed her partner in the ribs. He cast a dismayed gaze and sighed:

  "Okay, bro. But this is a special offer and only because you’re such a weirdo!"

  "Underweight, thank you, but I have to go," I still needed to reach the chief councilman, and I had no interest in continuing to discuss money lending. I didn't know why, but I wanted to live within my means.

  "Hear me out! Fifty silver a week. Hm?"

  "Alright, I'll consider it. Thanks."

  "Alright," he nodded and patted me on the shoulder. "If you reconsider, you know where to find us. Good luck, brother!"

  I had already taken a few steps away when one of them called out.

  "Hey, Scyth!" Overweight beckoned, holding a stick of some kind. "Here. On the house! This’ll be bit better than bare hands..."

  Large bear bone

  Shoddy

  Bashing weapon.

  Damage: 1-2.

  Durability: 8/20.

  Sell price: 0.

  "Take it, take it!" She practically forced it on me. "There you go. No need to thank me, no one wants that crap anyway, it's just taking up space."

  I imagined the best way to grip the bone and how much it might weigh. I’d guess ten or fifteen pounds. I’d have to hold this in both hands.

  "Good, now beat it," Overweight finished rudely. "Aren’t you in a hurry?"

  "Thanks," I looked into her profile. "Thanks, Rita!"

  She rolled her eyes.

  "Beat it, Sheppard!"

  Chapter Five. Officially Displeased

  I THREW THE CLUB over my shoulder and walked up to the gates to the appeals of the merchants, but I was stopped by guardsman Mills:

  "Put your weapon away, young man!"

  "Is this really against the rules?"

  "For you it is. The city doesn't trust you. I don't trust you. Put your weapon away!"

  He placed his hand on the handle of his sheathed sword and stared at me with a look of anticipation. I see, I didn't have enough reputation with the city. Honestly, I had none whatsoever, and the locals treated me with distrust. So I nodded in agreement and put the club in my inventory. That was one of the old-school gaming conventions Snowstorm left in Dis to the detriment of reality. Inventory here was independent of space and volume. The only things it measured were number of slots and carrying capacity in weight.

  I walked toward the city council building down the straight central street and could sense Mills’ suspicious gaze boring into my back.

  Crowds of people were walking around Tristad even despite the fact that many had run off to fight the class-Z threat. That hapless player had probably become a necromancer almost by mistake, and almost certainly got more than he bargained for. I didn’t know so much about it, but I’d heard that threats in Disgardium were often triggered accidentally. That was to put some variety into the gameplay and stave off stagnation in player development, constantly generating more and more "threats" at all levels.

  Another question was what the benefit was to the threats themselves. I didn’t know. At some point, I got curious and tried to dig through the forums. I didn't find anything but rumors and riddles. I got the sense that the corporation simply forbid all players who had ever been one of these global scapegoats from saying anything, and had powerful levers they could use to cut-off any attempts to do so...

  With my poor attributes it was no easy task for me to get through the crowd. Everyone around was stronger, heavier and more powerful than me.

  Slipping between a warrior in plate armor and some girl, I stepped on the hem of her dress. The fabric stretched and began to audibly tear. The girl's legs were left bare and she nearly tripped, but the plate-armored dude grabbed her. With another hand he managed to snatch me by the shirt collar.

  "Hey, don't you move!" he barked out menacingly.

  "I'm not moving," I sighed in disappointment.

  After the news of my parents' divorce, it felt like everything was rolling into a bottomless chasm, and this was just another of life's mean jokes.

  "Excuse me, you have damaged the lady’s attire!"

  The "lady" was a level-one fourteen-year-old girl named Vista. While the pedigree bull trying to pass himself off as a knight was a level-twelve warrior named Crag, aka fifteen-year-old Tobias Asser. Jesus, what a cheap pick-up attempt! But Vista was into it and looked at me demandingly.

  "It was an accident. I beg your apologies..."

  "Apologies aren't gonna get you out of this one! She must be compensated fairly!" Crag said, drawing out his words and looking to Vista in satisfaction. She gave a suggestive smile, not at all embarrassed to be half naked.

  "Come on, compensated for what? This is a standard novice’s dress. Have her die and go to her room in the tavern, then pull a new one out of the chest..."

  "Well I'm in a hurry, my friend is waiting for me!" Vista threw out. "And now I have to go respawn all because of some butthead?"

  "It was an accident!"

  "Pay for the damage, otherwise I'll call the guards!" the warrior bellowed.

  "I don't have any money to pay for the damages, so..."

  "Guards!" Crag shouted out suddenly. "I have apprehended a criminal!"

  Come on. What bullshit! Was he serious? I tried to get out of it, my shirt ripped then the warrior grabbed me by the arm. He really was gonna do this!

  "Come on, Crag. Why bring the guards into this? I really don't have any money!"

  "Yeah, sure buddy. You've been here more than a year and expect me to believe you haven't found even one little copper? You can explain yourself to the guards... Ah, there they are now!" Crag placed me before a trio of guards that ran up. "Guardsman Gale! This criminal has damaged the elegant lady Vista's dress and must be punished!"

  "Let's let the judge decide if he's a criminal or not," Gale grumbled. "Take him away, boys!"

 
; The guards lifted me by the armpits. Gale pointed them where to go and barked loudly:

  "Make way for the guards!"

  The people cleared a path. "You're so strong!" Vista's voice rang out behind me. I no longer heard Crag's answer, but I thought he was happy. Picking up girls in the game was nothing new. And neither was the fact that some of them were not opposed to being helped by a high-level player, drawn in by a passing glance of their pretty little eyes.