Chương 24

Lotheriel looked eagerly at John. The production team was ready to go live. The midway first-floor show was about to begin. But Lotheriel, despite getting several warnings from the System AI for not starting this in time, still postponed it. Because currently, on the screen, there might be a real tragedy about to unfold.

"Sir." A woman with a clipboard came close to Lotheriel.

"How long till we go live?" Lotheriel, in all his ten feet, was hunched over a small screen. A clandestine screen that he used to spy on people. It cost lots of resources to keep it going. But seeing inside the haven was of the utmost importance. And that's why he had one going there all the time, steered by one of his aides.

"Just a little longer. As soon as he slips, we'll edit some footage on the spot and make sure that he's out of the picture completely for the haven." Lotheriel had a large grin painted all over his face. With John being antagonized like this, there was little doubt that the man would just go and force his way through the crafting benches. He needed the equipment if he really wanted to go on such a suicide mission. And more importantly, John would probably not come back to this large haven — to the Holy City.

Lotheriel scoffed at the pretentious name. The elf was sure of that because, had he been in John's place — after all these insults, after they took it out on him over the innocent woman, a victim of an entrance test that sometimes decimated the populations of worlds with mana — how could he not? How could he not just curse them all? And so Lotheriel waited for the spectacle that was about to unfold. When I heard what Alice was saying, I stopped walking and turned to her.

"Are you talking about Gina?" I asked.

"Is that her name?" Alice said, putting a hand on one of her guns.

"We saw that you didn't help her. You're a coward." I took a deep breath and felt like a bucket of ice-cold water had been poured over me.

"The tutorial froze for the announcement, and I couldn't do anything. I barely even noticed what was happening. In fact, I think that Gina was put in a very precarious situation on purpose by the tutorial. I—""What? Are you trying to shirk responsibility?" Alice said to me. I looked at the woman. I looked at her guns. I looked at her finger already grabbing the trigger. And then I just said, "She didn't deserve to die." And I turned, and I walked away.

"John," Marcus said, hurrying behind me alongside the others.

"John, where are you going?" King Pussycat, the giant lion, just walked beside me, brushing my shoulder slightly with his gigantic foreleg. He nodded at me, and I nodded back.

"It doesn't make sense to butt heads with them," I said.

"But John, we can't leave the haven if we don't get—""We're not leaving the haven," I said, turning to Lucas, who had been shouting.

"What?" Lucas frowned.

"There is a higher authority in this place that we're going to talk to. And I think it's going to help." About fifteen minutes later, while Alice was still in the crafting district, surrounded by crafters who kept pouring compliments all over her, I walked back with my group of colleagues and one more person. Seeing that person, many of the crafters in their shops froze. But the small group around Alice had yet to notice that their sycophancy was coming to an end.

"Have you all lost your mind?" The raspy, booming old voice cut through the chitchat, and they all turned to see an imposing old Black man shaking in anger. I saw, in that moment, a mix of fear — pure, abject terror — and a few angry glances at me. This was the kind of situation where little brother goes to call mom. And I'll be honest, in a different situation, I would have liked to solve such a problem in a more macho way. You know, maybe crack a few heads, get a bounty on my own head, and get my due.

But since the future of humanity and no less was on the damn line, I had pushed my pride back down my throat, together with my anger, together with my— I sighed, in a way. Together with Gina. I pushed it all down and did the most practical thing.

"Father Okonkwo," Alice said hesitantly.

"We just—""Foolishness!" Father Okonkwo thundered.

"These men came here and saved you. I will not tolerate any of this." They all looked dead afraid of Father Okonkwo. All of them but the burly crafter whom I had talked to initially, who came up and said, "Father, these men and women are cowards and traitors. They just want to save their pet and get the hell out of the city. I refuse to help them."

"Are you perhaps a servant of Queen Jezebel?" Father Okonkwo asked.

"Willing to bear false witness — to swear that an innocent man cursed God — so that a crowd would stone him, and a king could take what was his? Would you stone the man who saved you, on the word of a showman? Are you not a follower of Moses' law? You shall not spread a false report." The burly crafter didn't look taken aback by Father Okonkwo.

"Father," the man said, "I don't know the Bible like you do. Well, I read it in my own time, but I prefer getting busy with my hands." That's when I started fearing that Father Okonkwo — a man ordained by God, well, at least in his word, and I guess now actually ordained by a god — would just let this run. But what happened next was not something that I saw coming.

"I see that the devil has taken root under my roof," Father Okonkwo said in a low voice.

"The devil, Father? What the hell are you talking about? And please, get out of this. This is an argument between us and these—" Before he could finish the sentence, Father Okonkwo had taken out a big stick with a large knot at the end of it and walked forward. He hit the man in the chest so hard that it knocked all the air out of his lungs.

"When Jesus saw the merchants selling in the Temple, desecrating a sacred place, he did not just stay and watch." Father Okonkwo said that while the crafter writhed on the ground, his eyes bulging, not even coughing — not even able to do that.

"Jesus took his time to braid a whip. And then took it to them." Father Okonkwo turned to the rest of the crafters with his stick.

"I serve a just and almighty God. I will not tolerate vipers growing in His bosom. I tell you right now: if you are not with the just, then you are with the devil. And John—" Father Okonkwo took a step back and grabbed my shoulder so hard I almost flinched. But for the sake of his great speech, I tried really hard not to make any expression while his hand, feeling like a metal clamp, crushed my shoulder.

"John here is a hero. You will craft him equipment. And you—" Father Okonkwo pointed the stick at Alice.

"You will follow him in his mission to save the noble lion." Stolen novel; please report.

"Father, I—" Alice suddenly stuttered.

"Why— I—""Alice," Father Okonkwo said, still furious.

"Do not think you can fool me." I didn't know what Father Okonkwo meant by that. And I didn't even know why it had such an effect on Alice that she did not say another word. Instead, she just nodded. Out of reflex more than anything, I checked Alice the same way I had checked the crafter. Just her hands. They were clean. There was nothing on them. I breathed in relief then. I was happy that Alice had not killed anybody — especially if she was to come with us to the undead stronghold. But it made sense.

She was an S-Ranker. And a hero for this haven. Father Okonkwo surveyed all the crafters, even the ones in the shops.

"I will throw this man, this evil man, out of my city. Is there anyone who wants to take his place? Who believes that he is just and good? That he is a righteous man, and that I am making a mistake?" No one spoke up.

"Very well," Father Okonkwo said. He leaned down and took the man by the collar. And while the crafter still gasped for air, he started dragging him away. Then he paused for a moment, like an angry parent looking at unruly kids.

"Do not make me come back." We all watched as Father Okonkwo dragged the man away. And it was Tina who actually broke the silence.

"Maybe I should have gone to church. I like that." We all turned toward Tina, who just shrugged and said, "Sometimes you want to do that in the office. Trust me." Then, amidst the incredulous silence, a man came forward. I recognized him. It was the man who had approached me when we came to the haven — the only one who had thanked me for saving him and his son. Despite Father Okonkwo's intervention, all the other crafters still looked sour. And I realized that forcing them to work for us would just create trouble.

"John," he called me.

"Uh, yeah. Hey — sorry, I didn't catch your name the first time around."

"Don't worry about it." He was a middle-aged man with a large belly and short, balding hair. But he looked sharp. And he had a leather apron of much better quality than the one the man who had been banished by Father Okonkwo used.

"My name is Wilson."

"Nice to meet you again, Wilson," I said, and the man energetically shook my hand. I felt a lot of strength coming from it — so much as to even impress me, a person with several levels, almost all of which had gone into Strength.

"Come with me," Wilson said, and he ushered our group — and Alice, who followed us reluctantly — toward his shop. He brought us to the front of the shop, where there was a small open courtyard that opened onto the plaza, with a forge and several crafting benches.

"I may not be the best crafter, but…" He looked meaningfully at me.

"Yeah, you might be the only one who's willing to help us, so don't worry about it."

"Sir Wilson," King Pussycat finally spoke up.

"I shall thank you in advance for your help."

"It's all good." Wilson didn't look scared by the giant lion. And then a boy suddenly popped out of the shop. He couldn't have been older than five. He pointed at the gigantic lion and said, "Meow? Uh, is that meow?"

"It's a lion, son," Wilson said, taking his son in his arms.

"May we get close?" Wilson asked King Pussycat.

"Please." The little child put his hand out and petted King Pussycat, who just let him without any trouble. Then, after a few more greetings, Marcus was the first to empty his inventory.

"So, we have this loot that we got from the boss's room. Uh, tell us what you think about it. We're not sure how good it is."

"Don't worry, I have an appraisal skill that…" Wilson's words died in his throat as he saw Marcus take out dozens of materials coming from alpha creatures.

"Holy shit," Wilson suddenly said.

"Holy shit. Holy shit," his son chimed.

"No, don't say that. Dean, do not repeat that." Dean looked mortified, and his father sent him back inside the shop and closed the door behind him. He came forward again, looking at the materials that Marcus had poured on one of the crafting benches.

"This— how did you get so many?" Wilson asked.

"The crafters here, they would kill for half of this. Not even the entire haven had brought back so many items before the army of the undead reached us." Several crafters had gotten closer and formed a crowd around Wilson's shop. One of them said, "Those are indeed a lot of materials."

"Well, they have a damn lion boss, so who cares? Maybe they got them by only focusing on alphas."

"It's still pretty impressive." Another sighed.

"Maybe I should have taken their business up. Do you know how many levels all those materials can give you?" That's when I wanted to take a little shot back, and I wrote in chat, "Guys, on the three, all empty your inventory on your closest bench."

"That's fun," Lucas commented. They all walked silently to a bench, and I wrote in the chat, "One, two, three." A sound of materials spilling from the benches and thudding to the ground took over the crafting district. Wilson suddenly looked pale.

"Oh my goodness. All of you have materials like that?"

"That can't be," one of the crafters muttered in disbelief.

"Those must come from dozens and dozens of alphas. Shit, it might be hundreds of them."

"Holy," another shouted.

"I could finish all my crafting quests with those materials."

"That stupid piece of shit who caused all that ruckus." Another man suddenly cursed.

"Why did I listen to him? Look at all that business in there." Alice shot a few glares at the crafters, as if trying to have them retain some dignity. But now that their livelihood depended entirely on their levels and their abilities, seeing the key that would make them all much stronger completely turned them around. Wilson, however, looked worried.

"John, I— I'm not sure I can process this in just a few hours, and I'm talking just about your friend's stuff. All of this… Crafting high-quality gear takes time. I…" Tina suddenly wrote in chat, "John, tell the others they can help. They all hate us right now. Let's share the loot with them so they can work on it."

"I agree," Hailey wrote just below.

"These fucking bastards don't deserve anything," Lucas wrote.

"But I can see Tina's point," Marcus commented.

"If we want to live here, we don't want enemies left and right."

"Well, that makes sense," Lucas replied.

"I guess it's fine then." I turned to the crowd of crafters and then at Wilson.

"Wilson, do you mind if we share this a little? Uh, I would like to leave as soon as possible, and I'm sure there is enough to go around for everybody." The crowd took a sharp breath, clearly not expecting me to propose something like that. Wilson nodded eagerly.

"Of course, of course. This is way too much for me. It would take days if I could even do it all myself. If I may — may I suggest we divide this equally? It's worth a lot of levels anyway. Just crafting one alpha gear of high quality can mean all the difference."

"All right." Then I turned toward Tina, smiling widely.

"Tina, you're the people person. Would you mind—" Tina nodded.

"Please form a line if you're interested in crafting the gear. Be quiet and let me count all of you, and we'll organize the items real quick and give something to everybody based on our needs. All the loot that we don't need, you can craft and distribute to those fighting for the haven." The crafters all scrambled, not able to restrain a low hum of voices and excitement. A few were still angry, but now the crowd looked at those reluctant ones like morons — like zealots, incapable of seeing the bigger picture.

Tina's skills in arranging people were more impressive than I had ever given her credit for. She had always been the one in charge of payroll, of organizing things, of taking complaints, and I had always underestimated the value of those things. I'm almost ashamed to say that I considered HR just a sack full of, well, a sack full of not-pretty things. And perhaps, in some ways, it was.

But seeing how Tina was decisively putting people in line, organizing the work, and doing all of this while standing at five foot five, I realized that maybe it had been the corporate environment that had clipped her wings. Maybe giving her a large stick to beat people with could have worked better for the overall productivity of the office. God knows I could have used it on myself a few times. And I was one of the most productive people there. I can't imagine the productivity gains in beating people up.

But while I was amidst those thoughts, Tina had already finished the organization. Yet, right when we were about to begin, a giant screen appeared in the middle of the plaza. And such screens appeared all over the Holy City, and all over the world. I saw Lotheriel's pointy chin and pointy ears appear on that screen. He didn't carry the usual smile that he always had. That insufferable grin. No, this time he had a scowl of sorts. Almost as if he had swallowed a bug or something. Did elves eat bugs? Who knew?

He said, "This is the Tutorial Dungeon Special Edition. Brought to you by the System, and presented by me. For those wondering, this is an official broadcast that shall be watched by all of you. So, time will now be frozen." In fact, everything went gray. Just like during the entrance test. And time was frozen. For a moment, while looking at the screen, I had the impression that the giant elf was looking back right at me. But then he just started giving a series of important announcements.