The attitude in the tavern grew frighteningly cold as the trite saloon doors were thrown open. Silence pressed on ominously as Allen came to a stop a few paces into the dingy room. The unpleasant smells of mildew and unwashed men wafted over him like an open oven. Clearly, this was no fine drinking establishment.

It was the kind of place that one visits to drink oneself into a heart attack, or to beat the shit out of somebody for no reason. For Allen though, there really was no reason to be there. It certainly wasn’t for a drink; his own piss would probably taste better. He was just there to waste his time.

The room was still silent. Allen held his tense posture in the middle of the tavern for exactly three seconds, pretending to menacingly look around. He obviously couldn’t see anything but the floor with his hood hanging over his face, but it was the effect that mattered. After the count of three, he activated one of his body strengthening skills and raised his head to make eye contact with a few of the patrons sitting around the tavern. The only visible effect of his skill was his eyes glowing red with magic from underneath his hood; once again, it was the effect that mattered.

The tavern was filled with shuffling and murmuring, both nervous and confrontational. All eyes were on Allen. He told himself the posturing was to keep unscrupulous company away, but with his level there was nothing any of these people could do anyway. Allan knew it, and so did everybody else who could see his level. So, clearly Allen was just fucking with the tavern’s patrons for his own cynical amusement. The value of a quick dopamine rush at the expense of others cannot be understated.

Just as he felt the atmosphere reach a critical point, Allen held up two fingers towards the stocky, heavy set bartender. He seemed to catch sight of Allen’s gesture despite actively ignoring the situation in his tavern. The man nodded once and put down the cloudy shot glass he was cleaning.

The tension in the tavern immediately broke as Allen dropped his skill and walked up to a seat at the bar. Not long after that, the conversations and usual bar atmosphere resumed as if nothing had happened.

“Flawlessly executed yet again,” Allen congratulated himself.

The bartender returned a moment later with two mugs from the house tap. Allen reflexively glanced up at the burly man’s nametag as the mugs were wordlessly placed in front of him.

Name: [Unknown]

Human – Warrior – Level: 138

Impressive by the standards of this area, but not really intimidating to Allan in the slightest. His own nametag was always above his own head after all. He usually kept the level visible to everyone for intimidation purposes.

Name: Jeremiah Allen Durand

Human – Ranger – Level: 418

He then turned his attention back to the mugs on the counter before him. Allen wasn’t too particular about his beer, but he preferred lagers. Of course, shitty taverns like the one he was at only had cheap ale, which was what he got for the price of two quarter Schillings.

“Why does this country use Schillings as its standard currency?” was a question that Allen had long since given up on ever having an answer for.

He took a gulp of ale and forced it down with a squint. Then he raised his eyebrows in contentment. “I’ve actually had worse… huh,” he thought.

About half an hour passed as Allen sat and sipped at his beer. Nothing in particular was on his mind, but he was still feeling noticeably listless. He downed the last sip of his second mug before reaching into his pocket for another quarter schilling.

He chuckled to himself at the thought of the coins in his pocket and how they reminded him of Earth. “Was it Poland or Austria that used the Schilling? Maybe Ukraine?” It was stupid to think about Earth and he knew it. Drinking alone used to make him feel nostalgic, but he had enough vitality and way too much focus for cheap beer to do anything to him by then. “It’s been a decade now… Fuck, I’ve lost track. I was only seventeen when I showed up here, and not even dying gets me out.”

The memories made him smirk under his hood. He swished his third mug of ale around a few times before taking a long sip. He thought about heading back to one of the adventurer or mercenary guilds and join a party. Killing stuff always seemed to clear his head. Then again, it was always tough to find a group that wasn’t comprised entirely of shitheads and assholes.

That was yet another odd thing about the fantasy world Allen had found himself in so many years ago. That is, almost everybody sucks. It was almost comical in a way. In ten long years, Allen had rarely come across someone that didn’t make his skin crawl. Fortunately, being a Ranger allowed him to make a good living from hunting monsters and large game in the wilderness, all by himself. It wasn’t much, but it was honest work.

With that thought, he decided against joining a party; it was just too much emotional labor. There were always plenty of dangerous beasts to hunt in the forests.

Allen took one last sip of his third beer before getting up to leave, unable to finish it. There was a shortcut through the alleys that would take him back to his flat. Such alleys would be on the unsafe side for most after dusk, as it was at that time, but Allen could deal with just about anything some random thugs could pull on him. Of course, nobody in their right mind would bother someone over level three hundred in this city anyway.

He walked out of the bar and sucked in a deep breath of comparatively fresh air. Smog from fires and machines was a step up from the bar at least. Allen made his way towards his shortcut, lazily walking through the streets of Lödensburg. The city, and really the whole world overall, was a strange mix between the typical high fantasy setting and a western steampunk movie from the early two-thousands. It was unique, at least.

Allen rounded a corner and casually walked into an alleyway. It was dark at first, but Allen had very high perception and various skills that allowed him to see almost perfectly in complete darkness. So, instinctively, he paid no mind when the alley became unnaturally dark. It took him only a moment to realize something was wrong when even his enhanced senses couldn’t make anything out in the darkness, but it was still a moment too late.

Allen reached for the knife at his belt and activated his buffs. His eyes glowed red again, but he still couldn’t see anything but darkness around him. Panicking slightly, Allen spun around in the empty space.

“Relax, you’re not dead this time,” came an amused but friendly voice from somewhere behind Allen’s head. It had an intelligently casual and approachable tone with just the right amount of humor, like a dentist.

Allen jumped a little before whipping around again to face his enemy. What he saw was a somewhat spindly, androgynous figure made of darkness. It, or ‘he’ based on the voice, was only visible because of his circular, solid white eyes and the slightly glowing white outline that made him look like he was lit from behind.

Allen’s shoulders sunk with a heavy sigh. “Oh, it’s just you again,” he muttered. Allen stared back at the figure for a few awkward seconds, both of them saying nothing. Although, he could still tell that the figure wanted him to continue. He could see it in those soulless white eyes. Allen sighed again. “You’re gonna make me say it aren’t you?”

The figure only nodded once. Allen knew he was grinning ear to ear, but the figure didn’t have a mouth to show it.