Herakles struggled to breathe. A huge hand grasped tightly around his neck as his feet were nowhere on the ground. That missed swing proved to be a fatal error with how bad the situation turned up to be. Slowly, the grip crushed his throat from all sides as Herakles flailed around to break free. He scratched and pull the hand that was gripping him to death, but no matter what he tried it was pointless. The giant goblin was too strong.

His eyes were losing hope, staring at the soon-to-be killer of his. The feral yellow eyes stared deeply at him as the giant goblin seemed to be savoring Herakles’ last moment of life. As his eyes slowly blacked out, his vision caught something. The gleam of a blade reflected the bright flame of the campfire as it pierced right through the neck of the giant goblin.

The giant goblin didn’t see it coming. Its worsening condition and its attention fully towards killing Herakles made it unaware of the creeping assassin.

“Die,” Rohan said. His dagger was embedded in its neck as he stood from behind. Herakles’ reckless attempt proved to be a useful opening for Rohan to send in the last blow. He twisted the dagger a few times and slid it off to the front. Blood went bursting from the open throat of the giant goblin as its knees buckled.

The giant goblin fell limp on the ground, bringing along the man caught in its grip. Herakles took a fall. But found his precious air back in his lungs. Yet the threat of the giant goblin still made him fear as he turned and tried to get back up. He stumbled a few times, swaying. His body was still far from fully recovered, but he still had to get up. His eyes found Rohan, standing before the corpse of the giant goblin.

“Is it over?” he asked. Then the messages came.

* * *

Rohan panted for his breath. As his eyes lingered at the new messages that spammed over his vision.

[Goblin-Variant (Boss) defeated]

[You have gained 130 Exp.]

[You have level up.]

[You have level up.]

[You have level up.]

[You have gained 15 points.]

[Class bonus stat distributed; +3 Arcane, +3 Charisma]

His early complaint of not getting any level was answered immediately with a row of new levels. He was glad about it. But his interest lay on the next few messages.

[Boss loot obtained.]

[You have obtained Gobrou’s Estoc]

[The first to slay a Boss monster.]

[Random reward generator activated.]

[You have gained Skill: Inventory(5-Slot)]

An edgeless sword emerged out of thin air, floating in front of Rohan. It was sheathed in its own scabbard as it waited for the new owner to grab it by the hand. Grinning, Rohan snatched it and immediately drew the blade. Despite gaining a reward he was far from being grateful. “A piercer,” he said. “Can’t say I’m a fan.” Unlike a normal sword, an estoc was made to pierce. Even if it could cut, it would be shallow and far from effective like a normal sword.

“I’m grateful for the skill, but it would have been better if I gain an offensive one,” he said. Lamenting the fact that his skill was devoid of any offensive-based skill. Yet, that was not the end as more kept coming.

[You have reached level 5.]

[Please choose your new skill.]

His whole face glowed up the moment he read through that message. Finally, his prayer had been answered. Yet the large smile was slowly receding until there was nothing left.

“Fuck my luck,” he uttered under his breath. Frowning at the names and descriptions of these skills.

[Mental-Link. A skill that grants the slavemancer a telepathic link with his/her slaves. Allowing an easier way to give command and converse. Limited range based on current skill level.]

Not going to lie, this skill was quite a useful one. No matter what world, communication was the essence of securing almost everything. In battle, in business, and most importantly bonding between two people. But it was still not an offensive skill, thus he moved on to the next one.

[Basic Whip Mastery. Passive enhancement, adding minuscule bonus damage when using a whip-based weapon. Increasing in level allows enhancement in proficiency in motion and weapon usage.]

A basic weapon mastery that is exclusive for the slavemancer class. It might be a passive skill, but it was no doubt an offensive type. Yet the idea of using a whip really turned him off. Not to mention his impression of a whip was not that great, considering most literature and entertainment he used to see depicted the whip as the iconic weapon for a slave owner. He would rather not be associated with a slave owner and for now, he would stick with his sword. Not to mention he just obtained an estoc of all things.

[Life Siphon. Channeling slave’s health points, endurance points, and mana points to the Master. Warning, low-level mastery has a probability of inflicting death to the slave.]

“. . . . .”

Rather than saying anything, he pretended the last skill didn’t exist. He swept it off from the messages, leaving the two options for him to choose. Sighing, he regretted the fact of being bold and stupid. His abundance of confidence in 'gacha' proved to be a hidden knife that stabbed him right at the back.

“Let’s get this over with,” Rohan said. He made his choice.

[You have gained Skill: Mental-Link. ]

In the end, he opted for utility rather than a slight increase in combat prowess. Not to forget he really did not want to use a whip. The call from his employee number one prompted him to turn.

“Boss, look at this,” Giotto arrived in front of him and showed Rohan what was in his hands.

“A buckler?” Rohan stared at the wooden buckler with an iron bulge at the center and an iron rim around it.

Smiling, Giotto explained what happened. “You’re not going to believe this, Boss. But this thing appeared out of thin air like it was magic!” The older man was getting a little bit too excited.

Rohan guessed it must be the dungeon reward for Giotto, and for a cleric like him, a buckler was more than suitable for him. Yet he wanted to know something else. “Have you earned anything else as a reward?” he asked.

“Oh yes, the words told me I’ve reached level six and asked me to choose a new skill. Some of it I can hardly understand, but I think Boss would choose it better for me,” Giotto said.

“You need to choose it for yourself, Giotto. And I’ll gladly explain what I can about those skills, but you have the freedom to choose on your own,” Rohan said. “Now, aren’t there any words telling you about slaying the first Boss monster?”

Giotto shook his head, and it was enough of an answer for Rohan. He concluded the reward was only given to the one who gave the last hit, but he still needed to ask a few things at the man he didn’t expect to see.

“Herakles,” Rohan called. Shuffling his feet closer to the man who called him a murderer. His eyes found the flanged mace in Herakles’ grip as the reward was also suitable for this big man. Upon closer inspection, he found the mace was exceptionally big and long like a longsword. It was a mace unlike he had ever seen.

“Sir,” Herakles said. Glancing at Rohan’s eyes for a while before wandering back to the ground. “I . . . Um . . . I want to apologize, sir.”

Out of a sudden, the big man knelt in front of Rohan with his head down. “I was foolish. An idiot that doesn’t know the world. Even after you have given me your wise word, I still couldn’t see it, not until it came biting me back,” Herakles said. His eyes filled with sadness as the things he went through alone were like a nightmare. “Forgive me, sir,” Herakles looked up at Rohan, staring him in the eye. “If it pleases you, sir, cut my tongue that disobeyed you. Cut my right hand for throwing you, and if those aren’t enough, please accept this mace for my worthlessness.”

Rohan stood there in silence. His face didn’t change from that stoic look, but deep down he was dumbfounded over those words he just heard. It took him a few seconds to snap out of it. “Let’s not cut anything, okay?” Rohan said. He aided Herakles to stand up, but the big man wouldn’t budge.

“Please . . . Sir,” Herakles said with his voice trembling. He looked up at Rohan with his eyes glistening. “I do not deserve your noble aid not after what I’d done. Time after time again, you helped me, not caring about my status or hoping for anything in return. And yet this foolish me was too blind to be grateful. Please, sir. Please punish me however you like.” Again Herakles bowed his head.

Rohan felt a headache over the situation. This was one of those things he hated about the medieval era, the difference in the social hierarchy. “Fine,” he sighed. “So rather than using Valeria’s Law which is kinda harsh, what about Greco’s Law? What would they dictate about your situation right now?”

It took Herakles a while as the man probably tried to recall what he remembered. Since it wasn’t like everyone knew about laws and stuff. Then he said, “head will roll, sir.”

“Rolling your head, that’s quite an odd, but harsh punishment. So how do you do it? Do you roll on the ground until the judge tells you to stop or does someone else do the rolling? Cause I can’t really picture of how . . .” Then it struck him. “Wait, what do you actually mean by head will roll?”

“Decapitation . . . Sir,” Herakles answered.

Silence reigned once more. And Rohan wore back that stoic face while his inside was cursing at himself as he couldn’t believe his own idiocy. “Let’s not do any punishment. I’m not really the sadist type so let’s bygones be bygone?” Rohan said.

“Sir . . .” Herakles stared at Rohan with the deepest of gratitude as his heart warmth like never before. “No, sir. I can’t do that,” Herakles said. “I’m grateful for your benevolence, but my father had always taught me, to never run away from my mistake. I did my mistake, and now I shall pay for it. So please punish me.”

‘Wow, this dude is really fucking stubborn,’ Rohan thought. As he was starting to get annoyed by this. His mind thought about a less than painful punishment, but someone beat him to it.

“Then how about becoming Boss’ slave?” Giotto, who never spoke, came over and threw it out in the open. It seemed someone had been eavesdropping.

“Slave?” Herakles frowned.

“Oi, don’t—” before he could say anything Giotto flapped his mouth again.

“I’m Boss’ slave, or what Boss called me as an ‘employee’, and I would have never got this far in this place without being Boss’ employee,” Giotto said. His chest puffed up wide, bragging about his ‘employee’ status.

“Sir?” Herakles turned to Rohan with a frown. It was a mix of anger and confusion in those wrinkles on his forehead.

Rohan’s face twitched a bit as things just got troublesome. “It’s like this . . .” He explained fully how and why it happened, and he didn’t forget to explain how he earned his class. Yet the moment he ended the last sentence, a new message appeared.

[Dungeon is closing. Please exit before dungeon collapse. You have one minute in counting.]

He felt his chest tighten as his eyes wandered around. Fear was creeping up on him as he didn’t see anything that resembled an exit. But thankfully, his sight found an ellipse portal of light, radiating a mix of rainbow colors. He sighed in relief and turned at the rest of them.

“Let’s go home,” he said and the man took the first charge. Rohan leaped into the portal and he vanished.

* * *

Armin waited on the carriage driver’s seat as his leg couldn’t stop shaking. It was getting late in the day and the sky was gradually turning orange. Dusk was approaching and soon night would fall. They had gone for too long and he worried for the young noble. If something happened to Rohan, he would definitely get the brunt of it. And he prayed he wouldn’t. Since he could not afford to lose his job as a knight. The weekly pay was huge for someone like him. A man who was once a commoner with nothing in his name, and yet his achievement was caught fancy by Lord Dunmer and after going through squire training for a while, he finally received his title as a knight. The moment he did so, he courted his longtime childhood friend and now they were happily married. A month went by and now here he was.

“Please be back, please be back . . .” Armin clenched his hands together, praying for their safe return.

But loud noises made his heart thumped. He stood up from his seat and glanced at the source of the crashing noises. The tower that came out of nowhere was now collapsing into its own ruin.

“No,” Armin said. His eyes widened in disbelief.

The young knight jumped from the carriage’s seat and leaped on top of his horse. He quickly grabbed the rein and kicked the horse by the flank. The horse neighed and galloped through the grass, sprinting like the wind towards the falling tower. The thing he feared was now happening right before his eyes.

He shortened the distance and as he squinted his eyes, he saw something. The corner of his lips started to curve upwards, and by the time he arrived, his fear was no longer there.

“Young lord!” shouted Armin, trying hard to hide his smile.

Meanwhile, Rohan had other things in his mind while staring at the collapsing tower.

“Ah, fuck. How the hell am I going to level up now?”