Chương 20: Different

Dimitri let out a hearty chuckle, his own eight orbs already doing the blue-particle-dance into his massive frame.

"It is a beautiful system, my brother Arthur!" he declared, his voice booming with the kind of warmth that could thaw a glacier.

"The universe provides for those who work in harmony. Each member of our glorious brotherhood receives their own reward for the struggle. To share the labor is to share the harvest!" I let out a sigh of relief that probably sounded more like a deflating balloon.

"That is actually a huge weight off my mind, Big Sunshine," I said, leaning back and stretching out my sore arms.

"I was already mentally preparing for the awkward conversation where I had to explain why I deserved the shiny bits more than you did. Glad to know the System is a fan of avoiding social anxiety." Dimitri nodded solemnly, his expression turning into that of a wise philosopher or a very buff motivational speaker.

"Indeed! And do not forget the value of your labor. These eight shards alone will fetch you eight pieces of gold at the market. A few more victories like this one and you will have the ten gold needed for a proper piece of Tier 0 equipment. I have heard the merchants in Inizio price their gear at such a rate. Every coin earned is a step toward your legendary future!"

"Ten gold for a beginner gear? Man, the inflation in this world is brutal," I joked, though I was secretly doing the math in my head.

"Thanks for the heads up, though. That's actually really good to know. Now, let's get a move on and finish this quest before any more steak-tanks show up." We trudged back toward Elias, who was standing there with an expression that suggested he had just watched a pair of house cats dismantle a siege engine.

He was staring at us with his mouth slightly agape, his weathered face etched with a look of genuine, wide-eyed disbelief that made me feel like I'd accidentally performed a card trick involving his own internal organs.

"By the stars and the soil," Elias breathed, his voice trembling with the shaky reverence of a man who had spent too much time watching the seasons change.

"I have seen many a traveler pass through these fields, but you two fight as if the very gods of war had hand-delivered you into this world. In all my years tending this land, I have never seen those who bear the mark of the first level carry themselves with such ferocity." I leaned back, wiping a smudge of monster-related grime off my forehead, and let out a snorting laugh that was probably a bit too loud for the quiet meadow. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

"What, were you expecting us to provide a soundtrack of hysterical sobbing?" I asked, my voice dripping with its usual coating of sarcasm.

"Did we skip a step in the tutorial where we were supposed to wet our pants and scream for our mothers while those beefy crab monsters tried to turn us into a two-man buffet?" Elias went dead silent for a second. He stopped mid-motion, his eyes locking onto mine with a sudden, heavy intensity that made the hair on the back of my neck do a little dance. He studied me with the kind of focus a scholar might give to an ancient, cursed scroll.

"No," Elias said finally, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly tone.

"It is not the lack of tears that surprises me, lad. It is the utter absence of hesitation in the face of certain doom. I have lived long enough to see two kinds of folk enter a fray like that. The smart ones stay their hand, for they see the losing game and know when to flee with their hides intact. Then there are the fools, who rush headlong into the teeth of death because they lack the wit to be afraid. In all my days, I have only met those two extremes. There is no middle ground."

I scratched the back of my head, feeling like I had just walked into a philosophy lecture while wearing a clown suit. I looked at Elias, my face twisted into a squint of pure, grade-A confusion.

"Okay, I'm going to need you to break that down into small, digestible chunks for me," I said, my voice rising a half-octave in bewilderment.

"What is that even supposed to mean in actual, non-cryptic human language? Are you calling me a genius or a psychopath? Because honestly, I've heard arguments for both." Elias didn't even blink. He just kept that intense, thousand-yard stare fixed on me, looking like a man who had seen too many sunsets and not enough television.

"You do not strike me as a man of dim wit, player," Elias replied, his voice heavy with that ancient, rural gravity.

"You have the eyes of one who weighs the world, yet you threw yourself into the jaws of the beast without a single tremor of doubt. It is a rare and terrifying thing to see a man who thinks too much but fears too little." I stared at him for a long beat, trying to figure out if I should be saying thank you or calling for a lawyer. I didn't exactly grasp the deeper meaning behind his creepy villager riddles, so I just went with the classic, non-committal nod of a man who is way out of his depth.

Maybe he was praising my legendary bravery, or maybe he was subtly suggesting I needed a lobotomy. Either way, my brain was too fried from the adrenaline to care about his existential crisis. Dimitri, ever the beacon of relentless positivity, stepped forward and clapped his massive hands together with a sound like a thunderclap.

"The past is a ghost that haunts the idle, but the future is a sun that warms the bold!" Dimitri boomed, his Russian accent turning the sentence into a glorious anthem of productivity.

"Tell us, good master Elias, in which direction does the Silt-Claw Canal lie? We must carry our momentum like a landslide and purge those remaining three Bovine Crustaceans from your beautiful lands!" Elias gave a slow, solemn nod, seemingly satisfied that at least one of us was motivated by more than just sarcasm and confusion. He turned on his heel, his worn leather boots crunching against the tall grass as he began to lead the way toward a different section of the Oakhaven Meadows.

We fell in step behind him, following the old man's lead as the sun beat down on our backs, ready to turn the next batch of dairy-flavored nightmares into more shiny blue loot.