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How to Use Console Commands

Chapter 1

The jostling of the cart started Payton awake. His eyelids felt heavy. Peeling them over was like removing a thick layer of wax from his eyes. His vision was blurry for all of a second. Another jostle followed by the creak of wood fired off neurons in his brain and caused his eyes to finally refocus. Everything was mostly dark around him but a little bit of light streamed in from small, barred windows to his left and right. The window was framed by dark wood that was nearly black. The smell of piss, body odour and dirt hung in the air.

"Hey."

The voice came from directly opposite to him. There was a haggard looking... man t_hing._ The creature had a wry, spindly frame and was covered from head to toe coarse dark brown fur. His features were vaguely reminiscent of a bat but somewhat haggard and malnourished with cheekbones highly pronounced and long, dirty-blonde hair tumbling past his giant ears to meet the rough beard hanging around his jawline. A tattered, dirty, cream tunic wrapped around his skinny frame and shorts made from the same itchy-looking fabric hung around his waist held up only by a simple rope belt. Piercing blue eyes locked with Payton's in acknowledgment.

"You're finally awake."

"Whut...?" Payton mumbled, lifting a hand towards his head only to feel the heavy weight of the black shackles. His eyes immediately fell towards his wrists... only they weren't his wrists. What was being weight down and connected to the rest of his body was a limb covered in dense, reddish-brown fur with white fur covering palms that were decorated by black pawpads. Black claws jutted out of the tips of thick fingers.

"Is... Is that...?"

"Oh boy..." mumbled another voice from his left. "Here it comes..."

Ignoring the statement, Payton followed the fur down an arm... up some biceps covered beneath another dirty-looking tunic and to a chest covered in the same creamy-white fur that decorated his palms. Fear was quickly bubbling up in his chest and he immediately reached towards his face even if he did so with those alien, clawed paws. Fur brushed up against his fingertips. Fur that was connected to a muzzle topped with a black nose.

"What the hell...!?"

The creature sitting opposite to him, the one with the dirty-blonde hair, reached forward though couldn't get far because of the chains. "Easy there, fella. You're safe. Sort of. I know this is all a shock to you but -"

"What's going on?" Payton demanded, casting his gaze all around him in fear There were five other people in this wooden prison with him. None of them were human. They were all some sort of fantastical beast. All of them were vaguely humanoid in appearance but none of them possessed the smooth flesh, the familiar features or the physiques that he was used to.

What... What happened to me!?

"I'm guessing you're new to being a Grigori," sighed the man sitting farthest from him. The guy was covered in dark, nearly-black, coarse fur and his head nearly touched the ceiling of the large, wooden wagon. Shaggy, reddish-brown hair stuck out between his pointed ears and a short beard hung around his vaguely boar-like features. The creature had a thick brow that shrouded his bright yellow eyes and large tusks jutting out past his lower lips. A distinct dragon-shaped tattoo marked the left side of his face. Uniquely, he had a second pair of arms and pectorals sitting beneath his first. The tunic he wore had to have extra holes torn into it to accommodate the unique anatomy. "Must've arrived just recently. I don't envy you, kiddo. Not two seconds in this fucking world and you've already been captured and being carted off for execution."

"Execution!?" Payton exclaimed. "What for? What's going on!?"

The blonde-haired bat waved for him to calm down. "Calm down. Let me start at the beginning." He gestured with a clawed hand towards Payton. "You're a Grigori now. We all are. What's the last thing you remember?"

Payton grimaced and held the side of his head, feeling the large triangular ears between his fingertips. "I... I just got home from work. I finished having dinner and then I sat down at my computer and opened an email from a friend. There was this text-based adventure game hosted on some website and after I went through it, I... I don't know! Everything just went black!"

The boar man gave him a faint, thin smile. "Sounds like you're from some really weird world."

It was the blonde bat who clarified. "Grigori is the term given to anyone who that take on shapes that are not human or don’t really fix here in Lexcia. They call us terrible blights upon the land that need to be killed to stop the Dark Lord."

Dark Lord... I remember that game saying something about Dark Lords... What was it...?

"That's why the Readers are so eager to execute everyone and everything these days," grunted the tattooed man. "There are some who believe Grigori are people who die and come back to life cursed to have bestial bodies for their sins. Others say Grigori come from another world or are even demons sent from the deepest depths of the underworld to bring blight and torment." He scoffed, spitting a thick wad into his corner. "Doesn't matter. We're going to be executed soon and your head delivered to the nearest Reader."

"W - W - What!?" Payton stammered, reaching for his neck. "Why? I haven't done anything wrong! I'm a law-abiding citizen!"

"Maybe where you come from but having a body like that..." The boar jerked a chin in his direction. "... is an automatic brand of damnation. Maybe at another time you would've gotten away with exile but with the Black Halo appearing, everyone is going out Grigori-hunting."

The Black Halo... The game said something about that as well.

Again, it was the blonde-haired bat who provided him with some context. Pointing out the window, the man indicated at the sun. Normally, Payton would not stare directly at the sun but there was something very odd about the celestial body in the blue sky. This one had a very distinct black ring encircling it like the light streaming from it took a momentary pause about an inch or two away from the sun by his perspective.

"What is that...?" he gasped.

"The Black Halo," answered his fellow prisoner. "Every so often, it appears around the sun. It's supposed to be a sign of the end times. The Readers say that when the Black Halo appears, a Dark Lord will rise that'll destroy everything and everyone. In order to save us, the Readers mandated that all criminals be executed immediately and all Grigori be killed and their heads brought to them. Our heads somehow empower their Grimoires and make them more powerful. More power means the better chance they have of defeating the Dark Lord."

"Like a Dark Lord has even risen in the last thousand years," grumbled the tattooed man. "The Black Halo comes and goes every decade or so. Never even a whiff of a Dark Lord. Listeners will tell you it's because all their measures are working. I think it's just bullshit."

Payton's mind was reeling. Half of the stuff they were telling him didn't make sense. The only thing he really retained from it all was the fact that he was going to be executed for... for what? For suddenly waking up as a wolf-man?

"Why are you...?" he began.

The blonde bat gave him a wry smile. "Just like you, I don't remember fully. I woke up here ten years ago. Not a penny to my name. Live alone for most of my life. Had a few visitors every now and then. Humans that never tried to kill me. Then the Black Halo arrived. I tried to steal a horse to get away from the Listeners and Readers. Got caught." He tried to hold out a hand to shake but was again restrained by the heavy shackles. "Pleased to make your acquaintance. Do you have a name?"

Payton nodded, trying to keep his panic from taking over. "Payton Rendshaw. You?"

That smile thinned a little. "You're lucky. You remember your name."

Huh? They don't have names?

"You don't...?"

The man shook his head gravely. "No. I've gone ten years without ever having a name. No one would bother to give a Grigori one. I have no idea how it is in your world but here, only Readers, Listeners, Speaklers and some people of note are truly worthy of names. Everyone else... well... We are merely known by our professions. I guess at one-point people called me 'Bat of the Borskadiir Cave. Now I'm 'Horse Thief'."

Payton's eyes went to the man with the tattoo who waved at him absently.

"Blacksmith," grunted the man. “Now, simply Murderer. Allegedly. Nothing was ever proven and yet in these times, accusation is all one needs to be condemned.”

Oh fuck me... It's like I just stepped into a fantasy world of bigots, extremists and execution-happy kings!

I've got to get out of here!

He glanced around desperately, looking for something - anything - he could use to get out. Thinking back to the circumstances that got him here, he recalled the last words from the game was 'Welcome to Lexcia'. He lifted his gaze towards 'Horse Thief' and mulled his next words carefully.

"Hey... uh... Horse Thief. Is... Is this world called 'Lexcia' by any chance?"

The blonde tilted his head in surprise and that thin smile turned to a softer one. "Yes. Yes it is."

Oh shit... I somehow stepped into the world of the game! Fuck me! I'm living an Isekai!

Payton closed his eyes, trying to think about what he knew about the genre from what he had read and watched on TV. Mind racing, he remembered that the main characters always had some degree of power or advantage that set them above the other inhabitants of the world. They were always tied to some sort of 'great destiny'. Though it was unlikely, he wondered if his destiny was to become this Dark Lord. Or perhaps he would be the one to finally end the Dark Lord once and for all. This was especially true if there was more than one Grigori that seemed to be dropped into this world like himself. Anyone could be the Dark Lord, it seemed.

Wait a second... what is that?

With his eyes still firmly closed, he noticed there was a tiny green mark on the bottom left-hand side of his vision. It almost looked like... a console command prompt.

No way...

He slowly opened his eyes... and found the prompt still there.

His heart racing, Payton jogged his memory on what he knew about old command prompt consoles.

"Help," he said.

Immediately, the word 'help' appeared on the console and committed. A string of text appeared that looked like it had come right off a readme file. The basic gist of it was that to use the 'help' command, he had to type 'help' followed by the command he wanted to use and it would list what that function would do and how to use it.

'If you require a list of functions available, type 'Help -L' or if you are searching for a particular command 'Help -SL' followed by a search string with an asterisk as a wild card will bring up results that fit your search.'

"Help dash-L," he announced fiercely.

"No one is coming to help you," Accused Murdered growled. "Just sit there and wait. We'll all be dead in a few hours."

Ignoring the man, Payton was suddenly assaulted by an enormous list of commands. It filled his entire vision and scrolled well past his visible range for a good minute. There had to be thousands if not millions of commands for him to peruse. While they may have had hours, he couldn't just sit there and go through all of them.

No, the first thing to do was to unlock the chains binding him.

Looking down at the shackles, on instinct he whispered, "Clear."

The list vanished from his eyes.

Just like Unix... Okay. I got this.

"Help Dash-SL asterisk-unlock-asterisk."

Horse Thief and Accused Murdered exchanged glances. The other four men in the cart had turned away, utterly dejected.

More functions came flying across Payton's vision but much less than when he checked the whole list. There were things like UnlockSkill, UnlockRace, UnlockWeapon, UnlockRegion and so forth but there was one that caught his attention; UnlockRef.

"Help UnlockRef," he mumbled.

Accused Murderer sighed heavily, running a hand down his face. "Kid -"

"Hush," Horse Thief snapped. "He's... He's trying something."

That caught the attention of the other men who were lifting their head in curiosity.

Apparently, UnlockRef could unlock anything so long as it was followed by the reference of the object he was trying to reference. The problem was getting the reference for his bindings. Thankfully, there was a function for that.

"GetRef," he announced and suddenly, there was a little cross-shaped cursor in the center of his vision. A sequence of numbers and letters followed whenever he hovered over a certain object in his field of vision. Accused Murderer, for instance was NPCH5408574309D while Horse Thief was NPCH6433278991A. When his gaze fell upon the black, metal shackles around his wrist, it was OBJ99827365413XC.

Okay. Moment of truth.

Thankfully, he didn't have to memorise it all. With a blink, the reference was copied over to the console.

"UnlockRef," he announced.

With a loud clank, the manacles immediately snapped open, falling with a heavy thud onto the wooden floor. All the men around him immediately gawked but before they could all ask what he had done, another voice erupted from the outside.

"What was that sound!?"

"Check on the prisoners!" barked a commanding voice.

Payton immediately grabbed the shackles and slapped it around his wrist again, locking them into place. The cart came to a halt and the wooden doors sprung open. On the other side was a man dressed in glorious green and black armor trimmed with gold. A legionnaire's helmet complete with a full array of peacock feathers adorned his head. He almost looked like he came out from the Roman army were it not for the outrageous colors and the long, billowing, emerald green cape that hung from his shoulders. There was what appeared some sort of heraldry drawn onto his colorful breastplate using gold filigree. Payton could only suspect it was a goblin's head only it was three faces merged into one, one facing the left, one facing the right and one staring dead on. The three faces shared the same skull with the one three eyes, one at the center and the other two facing either left or right.

Creepy...

"What was that?" barked the solider.

Thinking fast, Payton decided to play up the role of a disoriented Grigori. "I... I just woke up... I don't know where I am... Please! What's going on!?"

The soldier scowled, lip curling in disgust. "Fucking Grigori. You're lucky we need your head." With that, he shut the door and patted the top of the cart.

I can't believe that worked.

Payton immediately turned towards the others, lifting a finger towards his lupine lips to indicate silence. Everyone nodded in understanding as he quickly checked the reference of his shackles. The reference hadn't changed, thankfully, so with a quick whisper, he unlocked them again. He moved towards Horse Thief, checking the shackles. Naturally, they had a different reference but it was an easy matter to copy the code using GetRef followed by the UnlockRef command. A quick run around the rest of the cart and suddenly, everyone was free and the spark of hope was in their eyes.

"What is that power?" asked Horse Thief. "Is that your power? Are you... Are you actually a Listener?"

There's that term again...

"I'm still new to this world," Payton conceded. "What's a Reader and a Listener or a Speaker?"

It was Accused Murderer who filled him in.

Readers were the undisputed leaders of the Lexcia. They possessed powerful Grimoires that contained what many believed was the 'Language of Creation'. They were the only ones who knew how to read - thus their names - and because of this, they controlled all knowledge and through knowledge, all power. From their Grimoires, they taught people how to do things such as cook, weld, farm and all the basics anyone needed. However, their Grimoires also possessed incredible supernatural abilities like the power to manipulate the weather, change the earth itself or even summon hordes of monsters. To a select few, they granted the knowledge of these abilities from their Grimoires and those select few became the Listeners because they listened to the Readers and interpreted that knowledge. Listeners were the enforcers of the Readers and often ruled towns and cities while Readers generally presided over a nation. Beneath the Listeners were what one could call their generals, the Speakers. While Listeners had direct contact with Readers and received knowledge from them, Speakers merely recited the knowledge given to them by the Listeners and deployed it across their regions. Speakers were the ones that interacted with the general public as they spoke to the people.

"I don't have a Grimoire," Payton confessed. "And I've never met a Reader to make me a Listener."

Though I don't know if my knowledge from the other world or this console actually makes me one or the other...

"Listen," he continued, heart beating hard in his chest. "We're getting out of here. But I'll need your help." Nodding to each man he asked, "How many soldiers are escorting us right now?"

"Five," responded Horse Thief with no hesitation. "Two driving the cart. One ahead and two behind us."

There were six of them but he couldn't rely on himself in this fight. He didn't know the rules of this world.

"Give me a second to come up with a plan."

"I've got a plan," rumbled Accused Murderer.

Oh boy... He's going to be the one that suggest we just charge in and kill everyone, isn't he?

To his surprise, Murderer grabbed the discarded shackles. "We can use these are makeshift weapons. They're heavy and can do a lot of damage. If we have the element of surprise, we can take advantage of the two behind us. I say, on my signal, we all throw our weight to one side." He patted the wall. "We'll tip over the cart and that'll at least stun the two doing the driving." With a nod towards Payton, Murderer said, "If you can unlock that door, we can charge out and quickly overwhelm the other two with these. It might still take two of us to subdue one of them. That will leave the last one ahead of us unaccounted for. But he's some distance away so we have a few short seconds for him to realize something is going wrong and to make it past the two in front and the cart to reach us. By then, we should have knocked down the two behind us and we can make a run for it."

Whoa... That's... Whoa.

"Sounds like a plan," Payton agreed, grabbing the chains. Everyone else did the same and they all stood on one side of the cart, readying their shoulders.

"Alright..." rumbled Accused Murderer. "On three. One... Two... Three!"

Payton charged forward, slamming his shoulder against the side of the cart. With the power of all six men - with one of them being the large, powerful Accused Murderer - the cart was immediately taken off its wheels and sent hurtling towards the ground. For a second, the world tipped over before there was a deafening crash and pain exploded from Payton's shoulder. Ignoring the burning from his side, he focused on the door, got its reference and used the UnlockRef function.

"Now!" he bellowed and kicked the door.

The wooden panels went flying open and he tumbled out while the cries of horses and men were still rippling through the air. The two stunned soldiers both wielded spears and stood agape as the six prisoners came pouring out, wielding their shackles like they were whips. One of those shackles came flying and smacked the first soldier right on the temple. He went down like a sack of potatoes. The other had enough time to bring up his spear before three of the prisoners crashed into him, wrestling him to the ground and slapping those shackles against his arms and ankles.

Wow. That went better than expected.

"Payton!"

The cry came from beside him and he turned in time to see the lone soldier on the other side of the cart drawing a bowstring.

Time seemed to stop as Horse Thief threw himself at Payton, pushing him out of the way just as that arrow started flying.

No!

Time slowed to a crawl and there was an agonizing moment when Payton watched that arrow puncture Horse Thief's side, a sickening thwunk echoed against his eardrums as his fellow prisoner was thrown off him. The two of them crashed to the ground, Horse Thief slumped over in agony. The soldier was quickly drawing another arrow in a single, smooth gesture, this time aiming for Accused Murderer who was just turning to see Horse Thief's plight.

Hell no!

Acting on instinct alone, Payton used GetRef and announced, "Delete!"

Suddenly, the soldier's eyes went wide like he had just been struck by lightning. He lowered his bow, mouth agape. His eyes were drawn to his right hand which he lifted to eye level. The tips of his fingers blackened, turning into a dark, stone-like substance before being blown by some unknown wind, the specks of his fingernails vanishing off into the air and disappearing into nothingness. The darkness spread over his arm rapidly and before he could start screaming, his other arm was likewise disintegrating. He fell to his knees, staring straight forward with confusion and fear in his eyes, eyes that stared directly at Payton as if to demand 'Why'. That expression didn't last very long as the dark corruption spread over his face, turning his features to ash and his hair into dust. A moment later, his clothing, armour and weapons dropped to the ground, completely empty.

Payton just stared... his jaw open in shock.

That... That was a little bit more extra than I expected...

"The Dark Lord..."

The voice brought his attention to one of his fellow prisoners who was staring and pointing an accusing finger at him.

"H - H - He's the Dark Lord!" screamed the Grigori. "He undid our bindings using some arcane language and killed that man with a single word! That's no ordinary power of a Grigori! He's the Dark Lord!"

"Run!" cried another prisoner. "Run before he kills us all!"

Those words spurred the other three prisoners to immediately turn and flee down the hard-packed dirt road.

Upon seeing their own turned to ash within seconds, the soldiers that had gone down with the cart dropped their weapons and immediately ran in the opposite direction of the prisoners. That left two men lying on the ground, one unconscious and the other currently bound by chains. The one conscious man gave Payton the same horrified stare the others had thrown at him.

Oh fuck... Am... Am I really the Dark Lord? Am I supposed to end this world?

His thoughts were interrupted when a powerful arm seized his waist and hefted him over a broad shoulder. Accused Murderer reached down and grabbed Horse Thief, holding the writhing, pained bat under his arm. The powerfully built former-blacksmith with four arms then charged down into the woods, leaving the small caravan behind.

And the first sighting of the Dark Lord.

******

At one point or another, he had a name. He had been a hero and an adventurer and traveled the world righting wrongs and performing heroic deeds that earned him the coveted Grandmaster Class. Power and prestige, fame and fortune, it had all been his. Then, came the offer from one Faoster Goblincaller to join him as one of the lords of his metropolis of Gobhood. After seeing much of what the world had to offer, he had decided to give governing a try.

So he had accepted the offer and years later, his true name had been forgotten by the general public.

Now, he was known as the Goblin Knight, one of the Speakers of Gobhood. Along with the other three, he formed the very core of the city and provided the much-needed resources and services that the three to four million-strong city needed. The soldiers of Gobhood reported directly to him as the Master at Arms for the entire city. The goblins that Faoster provided him were trained under his careful watch to become competent soldiers that supplemented the mainstay of his army, the human soldiers that bore the green, black and gold with pride.

The Goblin Knight was going over the daily reports when a loud rippling sound like someone had dropped a pebble into a pool of viscous liquid reached his ears. A shimmering ring of tightly-packed silver stars appeared in front of his desk, somehow knowing exactly where to position itself so that it wasn't obscured in any way by the stacks of parchment placed on the polished oak. The face of the ring was quickly filled in by a silvery, liquid-like surface, clearly showing his battle-hardened yet handsome features.

The voice of Gaolsheer the Executioner came from the other side of the mirror-like spell, clear and crisp.

"We have a problem."

"What is it?" the Goblin Knight sighed.

"A wagon containing six Grigori ready for execution is late."

He never liked Gaolsheer. The bloodthirsty man was far too eager to find some way to keep the bloodstains on his axe fresh. Whether that be from the necks of thieves and criminals, Grigori or even the common goblins that helped Gobhood prosper, it didn't matter. Gaolsheer just wanted to kill.

"Be patient," the Knight responded dismissively. "I'm sure they'll arrive within the hour."

"They're more than an hour late! Goblinshredder is getting thirsty!"

Goblinshredder was the name of Gaolsheer's bloody executioner's axe. That the man had obtained a name for himself and a name for his weapon was nothing short of spectacular. Every creature he slew only added to his power and the Goblin Knight feared the day that Gaolsheer took his axe to the citizenry of Gobhood. That level of bloodlust only grew thirstier and thirstier as time went on. It would never be satiated.

"If you want, I'll send a patrol to check on it," he sighed. "I have no doubt it'll arrive there before my patrol even catches up."

"It better! I don't like to be kept waiting, Goblin Knight! If Goblinshredder isn't fed soon, I'll find a way to wet her appetite on the necks of your own soldiers!"

If such a threat was made for the first time, the Goblin Knight would have sent his soldiers to execute the executioner. But it wasn't. Faoster Goblincaller, the Listener in charge of Gobhood and founder of the city, favored Gaolsheer for some reason and the last thing the Goblin Knight wanted was to invoke a Listener's ire. The Knight may have reached Grandmaster rank and be at Level 100 but a Listener was worth five of him and Readers even more so.

Besides that, if some sort of civil war started, Gobhood and its citizens would be thrown into disarray.

He couldn't let that happen to three million people.

With a wave of his hand, the communication was cut. A quick bark of an order and a squire came rushing in to relay his command. A patrol would follow the route of the wagon with those Grigori and if Gaolsheer got itchy for blood, they were to sacrifice a few goblins to him.

Faoster would just create more.

That unpleasant business done, the Goblin Knight returned to his work.

******

Accused Murderer was very strong and they had to be traveling for at least an hour before they eventually stopped under a large tree. Payton had started running on his own about halfway, not saying a word to his savior while Murderer continued to carry Thief who had fallen unconscious from blood loss. Murderer set down Horse Thief. The bat's brown fur was drenched in sweat and his breathing was shallow and ragged.

"Bloody soldiers," cursed Murderer, regarding the arrow wound miserably. They had stopped shortly after leaving the caravan for Murderer to yank the arrow from Thief and used his shirt to dress the wound. Even with that, however, Horse Thief was not looking well.

"We need to get him to a hospital," Payton insisted.

"A what?"

Right... Think fantasy RPG terms...

"A healer."

Accused Murderer let out a short 'Ah' of understanding before shaking his head. "It won't do us any good. Soldiers of the Listeners and Speakers use a special kind of arrow. Vorpal Arrows. They're designed to make sure that whatever they hit dies. The arrowheads are coated in a special poison that will see our friend here dead soon. The best we can do for him is either end his misery or make him as comfortable as possible."

No! He saved me! I can't let him die that like!

"If you can do that thing you did back there, it'd probably be a mercy," Murderer said.

The look of the soldier he had disintegrated haunted his mind but he quickly shook it off. Thief was still in danger and he was not going to resort to a mercy killing.

Kneeling next to the injured bat, he quickly called upon his help list, searching the functions for anything that could help him. Because the list scrolled through quickly across his vision, he was starting at the bottom of the alphabet first and he caught sight of the 'UIEnable' function.

"UIEnable," he announced.

Lights flashed before his vision. A health bar appeared in the top left. His name appeared as well. Strange as it may sound, a wave of relief coursed through his system when the name ‘Payton Rendshaw’ was still hovering over his health bar. There was a minimap - partially obscured with a Fog of War - in the top right. A hotbar populated the bottom of his vision.

"Whoa..."

Murderer sighed softly. "I'd be surprised if you found anything that could cure him."

"That's not it."

His eyes went to Thief and noticed that there was a health bar and icon over his barely conscious fellow prisoner. Horse Thief's health was down in the red zone and still depleting. An icon that he suspected was a bleeding condition appeared right beneath the bar along with a red 'V' which he guessed was the Vorpal poison.

There has to be a command to make him better... Something...

AGM... Active God Mode. No. Don't want him to literally become god...

Respawn...? Uh... Might be trigger some existential crisis and there's no guarantee that'll work.

Maybe I can use AddSkill to give myself a boost to Medicine or something so I'll know how to cure him? Then again, there's no guarantee that there are materials around here to help.

After a bit of scrolling, he found 'ResetCharStatus'. Using the help function, he learned that this command would reset a character's Health, magic pool and remove all status ailments and positive effects. All it needed was a reference after it.

Huh… does that mean I can’t use it on myself? I wonder what my reference is?

No time. Thief comes first.

"ResetCharStatus," he announced. A soft, green light suddenly surrounded Horse Thief and the health bar above his head immediately filled up, going from red, amber to green. The twin icons immediately vanished. The gentle light brought color back to his cheeks and the spry, blonde bat let out a soft gasp, his blue eyes fluttering open.

"Well I'll be..." laughed Murderer. "Who knew the Dark Lord could use healing magic?"

Sighing in relief, Payton rose to his feet and offered his paw to Horse Thief. "I'm not the Dark Lord. At least... I don't think I am."

"Considering all I've seen, my bets are that you are the Dark Lord," said the former blacksmith. He flashed Payton a broad grin. "Incredible magic powers. Grigori. You've got a name. Fuck. If you're not the Dark Lord, then you're at least going to be a Reader. Either way, you'll need a personal bodyguard."

Horse Thief took his paw, allowing him to pull the man to his full height. Thief must have stood at least six feet tall because he was at least half a foot taller than Payton. "Thank you," sighed the blonde man with a wry smile. "That's twice I owe you."

"You saved my life," replied Payton. "Let's call it even." He then turned towards Murderer. "And I'm guessing that you want to be my bodyguard or something so that in the case that I end up either being the Dark Lord or a Reader, it'll look good on your resume if you helped me out in these early stages."

Murderer shrugged absently. "I have no fucking idea what a 'resume' is but I figure if you're gonna be something great, I might as well earn some favors with you now before I don't get another chance."

Right. Of course.

He sighed softly and turned towards Horse Thief. "What about you? Any plans now that we're free?"

Horse Thief shrugged absently. "You let those four other soldiers and prisoners go. Unless I somehow end up in another country, I'm good as dead. They'll start spreading rumors that you're the Dark Lord or something and then they'll say that I'm with you. People will figure that if they want to get to you, they'll hunt me down. It's better if I stick by your side for now. That is, of course, if you don't mind having me."

Damn. I hadn't considered that.

Payton glanced back in the direction of their escape. The freed prisoners might not get far but they could potentially start yelling about the Dark Lord and that might catch the attention of the authorities. The soldiers who escaped might be a greater threat. They weren't safe.

"What's the closest town?" he asked.

Murderer pointed off to the east. "Gobhood. It's about three or four days off in that direction on foot. There was the executioner’s house we were going to and that's back down the road but if you're looking for supplies, I wouldn't go there. That's probably where those other soldiers went."

"Then we'll have to go in the opposite direction and find some place hunker down until they stop looking for us."

"That will never happen," Horse Thief said grimly. "Any inklings of a Dark Lord sends everyone into a frenzy. They'll burn this place to the ground if they have to."

Damnit...

"Then let's at least find some place to camp. We need shelter." Payton glanced up at the ringed sun. "It's well past noon. It'll get dark soon and I don't think these woods will be too friendly when the sun sets."

Thief nodded in stoic agreement. "You'd be right there." He pointed north. "There's this old wizard's tower not too far from here. It's abandoned now. No one goes there because everyone is afraid they might trigger some magical trap or something. I've gone up and down it every now and then and found nothing. It was where I was going to go to once I had my horse."

Any place was as good as any. Daylight was quickly fading. If the closest town was three days away, there would be time to hunker down, get their bearings and find out more about this world that he had been thrust into. Not to mention to get some practice with all the abilities he had been granted.

I don’t want to delete another person like that…

"Then let's head there for now,” he insisted. “We'll think about where we'll go next afterward."

The trio in silent agreement, Horse Thief led the way through the thick forest to the supposed wizard's tower. Along the way, Payton thought to ask more about the world. Horse Thief and Accused Murderer took turns filling him in on the world of Lexcia, both of them readily accepting that as a new Grigori, he didn't have an understanding of this new world he found himself in.

Lexcia was ruled over by many Readers. In ages past before the Readers, there were divisions between nations. However, ever since Inferiorix the Godmage and his Grimoire of Regency took the throne of some distant land, Readers started appearing. They quickly became the undisputed rulers of Lexcia. Apparently, the Godmage was a wizard who inherited the throne after the previous king died He used that opportunity to elevate people by imparting upon them great knowledge from his Grimoire, educating those who would listen to him in the ways of magic. When other nations, jealous and fearful of the Godmage's power, tried to attack, Inferiorix struck back, usurped the thrones of the nations that attacked and divided up the land as he saw fit.

"It was Inferiorix who first discovered the magical properties of Grigori body parts," Horse Thief said, pushing back a branch so that Payton could duck under it. "Until then, Grigori were just considered oddities and freaks. Often shunned by society or used for manual labour. Every Grigori is unique and generally has some special ability that they possess. This ability isn’t really valued by normal people though. Because everyone is unique, it's easier for most people to just hire our kind for manual labor than for our abilities."

That's barbaric. Chopping up living people just to use them as materials... like cattle.

"What exactly are Grigori?" he asked.

"No one really knows," Accused Murderer replied.

The first Grigori appeared during the very first Black Halo many, many millennia ago. No one Grigori is ever the same and they all have something special about them. It's never clear what that 'special' thing is form the onset but it is what makes them so coveted by the Readers. Sacrificing a Grigori is known to add a new 'page' to a Reader's Grimoire, giving them more power and ultimately allowing them to spread this power and the subsequent prosperity to the people. One of the many reasons that the general populace is so eager to bring Grigori to the Readers. Ever since the first Grigori appeared, there have always been surges of Grigori appearances during every Black Halo. Sometimes a Grigori is born to a normal family otherwise they would just appear out of the blue.

Horse Thief's ability was the power to make himself sound like anyone he's heard before. As a small bit of entertainment, he perfectly mimicked Payton and even Murderer's voices as they traveled. For Murderer, his ability was the presence of his four arms and above average strength and endurance, nothing more.

Maybe I'm not the Dark Lord and my ability as a Grigori is just this console... Better play up the act while I can. I can't really trust Murderer or Thief just yet...

"So which 'country' are we in right now?" he asked.

"We're in the area known as 'Orphan's Crib'," Murderer responded. "It's ruled, as you might guess, by the fuck-wit Reader known as Orphan the Summoner and the guy that wields the Grimoire of Summoning. His abilities revolve around summoning great numbers of creatures at will from the hordes of rats to massive dragons." The big, boar man hiked a thumb back towards the road. "I guess you could say we're in the province of Gobhood. It's ruled by Faoster Goblincaller, the Listener of Goblins. He got the ability to summon goblins from Orphan."

The ability to summon hordes of goblins at a moment's notice. That honestly sounds more like a 'Dark Lord' to me than anything I can do.

... even if I did totally delete a person.

Recalling the cruelty of the Vorpal Arrows, Payton couldn't muster any regret over what he did. If anyone, regardless if they were soldiers or law enforcement, used such cruel weaponry so wantonly, they didn't deserve to be in any position of authority. It might've just been one person so he wasn't going to judge the entire army. For that one man, however, he reserved no empathy.

They approached the wizard's tower which, for all intents and purposes, was just a moderately sized stone hut with one section rising up to three storeys above the rest. It wasn't much taller than the trees around it. Grey, moss-covered stone made up the majority of the structure. A thatch roof showed deterioration from years without maintenance. Part of the tower had collapsed and there was now rubble blocking the front door. The windows were far too small to squeeze through and the opening at the side of the tower was too far up to reach.

"Let's see if we can make some sort of shelter," Murderer suggested. "Can't get in there but we might be able to prop up some wood and leaves to make a tent or something."

Payton rubbed his chin lightly. "Hang on. I might have an idea..." He reached out with a paw towards one of the grey stone wall. "ACM." Almost immediately, his paw passed through the stone.

Huh... ACM. Active Clipping Mode. It works!

His heart held up in his throat, he pressed forward, arm disappearing into the wall. Murderer and Thief watched in silence as he passed into the wizard's tower. The air smelled strongly of rotting wood and mold but wasn't stale. It was dark with cobwebs and old, wooden furniture littering the area. Everything appeared mostly untouched and pristine like the wizard that lived here had departed without issue. Given the history lesson he had just been given, the 'wizard' probably became a Reader sometime later. Wooden shelves were left barren. Tables sat untouched for what had to be years and chairs were pushed in. The flight of stairs leading up to the tower itself was mostly intact with the light of the setting sun streaming in through the big hole about halfway up.

Grateful that he wasn't phasing through the ground itself, Payton returned to the exterior and held out his paws. "Alright. Looks like it's safe inside. Come on in."

Murderer cautiously took his paw only for his fingers to pass right through. Realizing his mistake, Payton quickly deactivated Clipping Mode, grabbed one of the tattooed boar’s hands and then reactivated it. This time, he was able to grip his so-called-bodyguard and together, they passed through the wall into the wizard's house. He did the same with Thief. Both men hesitated as they stepped into the tower but once they felt solid ground on the other side, passed through without issue. He did feel Horse Thief grip his paw tighter as they crossed the threshold, however.

"I'll see if I can find something to help us get out if we need to," Thief said, striding towards the steps. His stomach growled at him loudly. "Maybe find something to eat as well..."

"I wouldn't count on anything left here being 'fresh'," rumbled Murderer, running a finger across the table. A clear line appeared where his finger passed, cleaving the layer of dust.

Payton wandered around the small, barren home. There was an old, stone stove that was likely used to not only heat up the house but also to cook with. Charcoal and ash remained within. The house could have supported maybe one or two people but not much more. With Murderer's large mass, the common area that served as a kitchen and dining room was already cramped as is.

"You know," he admitted while peering across the empty shelves. "If I really am the Dark Lord, I'll probably end up killing everything and everyone in this world." He flicked his ears back towards Murderer. "Are you okay with that?"

The big, tattooed man snorted derisively as he opened one of the cabinets over the stove. He pulled out what appeared to be an old, leather-bound book. "Not like this world is anything worth saving. Unless you're a Reader, the common man is little more than a faceless speck that has no future aside from the one assigned to you by the Listeners or Speakers"

"What do you mean? Don't you get to pick what your profession in? What you want to do?"

Murderer gave him a sad smile as he handed over the book. "The world you used to live in must have been nice if you had that choice." The big man shook his head grimly. "No. The Listeners and Speakers provide for everything. Food, water, clothing. Everyone becomes entirely dependent on them for all their resources. The people will use those resources to make weapons, armor, cook food, sew clothing or build homes but they are assigned their jobs for life based on what is required."

"From birth?"

"From birth." Murderer sat down on one of the large chairs and sighed heavily. "My father was a blacksmith and so I became a blacksmith. Easy as that."

Wait a second...

"Your father?" he repeated. "But I thought as a Grigori you came from another world?"

Murderer tapped an ear. "Weren't you listening? No one is sure where Grigori come from. Some people are born Grigori. I came out of my dear ma's womb a pig with four arms. Instead of selling me to the nearest Reader, my father kept me around and trained me as a blacksmith."

"But you never wanted to become a blacksmith."

A sad smile touched his lips. "Not everyone is satisfied with the roles they are given and to stare on blissfully while the Listeners and Readers do all the thinking for them. Not to mention I hated having to hide every time Grigori hunters came about and keeping myself hidden whenever customers were around." His broad shoulders sagged heavily. "It was a hard life."

There was much more to Murderer's words than just world-weary cynicism. But he didn't want to pry any further into such painful memories. He sat down opposite to Murderer and began leafing through the book. The script was unfamiliar to him and the pages were worn with age making it more difficult to read. However, he found he could somehow understand the words that were legible.

"It's just a cookbook," he mumbled softly, running his finger across the dusty script. "Has a few recipes here but that's about it."

"You sure you're not a Reader?" laughed the big multi-armed man. "Only Readers can read, you know." He took back the book and flipped it over, regarding the dark blue cover. "Though if this ain't a Grimoire, I'm guessing it's fairly old and came from the time before Readers were really our rulers. Might even belong to an actual wizard."

"There are wizards in this world?"

The towering boar nodded and set the book back down. "The ones on top aren't the only ones with names. There are some people out there who, through some form of luck or skill, end up becoming famous and getting names. I heard that the moment you are named, you obtain great power through a 'class'. Mages are a class. One probably lived her though it wouldn't surprise me if that Mage either became a Reader or moved to the city. Wouldn't make sense to be secluded all the way out here."

No... No it wouldn't.

The sound of rapid footfalls followed and Horse Thief came rushing back down the steps. "Look what I found!" he announced proudly, holding up what appeared to be a crude bow and arrow.

Murderer got up and immediately took them from the smiling bat. "There's still some daylight," he grunted. "I might be able to hunt something to find us something to eat. If you two can gather some firewood, we might just make our first night of freedom somewhat comfortable."

"Hey!" Thief announced, taking back the bow. "You're not the only one that can hunt! I lived alone and had to catch my own food for ten years! You'd be better suited to find some firewood with your big, strong arms!"

A growl left Murderer's tusked features and he snatched the bow back. "Don't judge me because I'm bigger than you, fool. I can hunt just as well as anyone. Certainly better than a stray bloodsucker like you."

"I do not suck blood!"

Payton lifted his paws into the air. "Hey, take it easy." He pointed at Murderer. "You take the bow and arrows." Before Thief could counter, he said, "You're still recovering from your injuries."

"I feel fine!" exclaimed the bat. "Your spell healed me right up!"

"My spell is probably nowhere near as powerful as whatever Reader came up with the Vorpal Arrows. You need to rest. We'll gather the wood." He nodded towards Murderer. "Be back before sundown."

The boar gave him a half-smirk and a mocking salute. "Sure thing, Your Darkness."

"Don't call me that."

Once again activating Clipping Mode, he led the three of them out of the tower where they split up into two groups. Murderer was quite spry and surprisingly quiet as he dashed off into the woods. Clearly there was something else about him that he wasn't telling them as those movements were far more adept than a mere blacksmith could possess.

Then again, how can I tell? I've never met a blacksmith before.

Without an axe of any sort, it would be impossible to cut down any of the towering trees around them for firewood so both Payton and Horse Thief had to go around looking for smaller trees that they could tear branches off or fallen twigs to use for kindling. Without a watch or a phone, it was hard to tell how much time had passed but when the shadows started to get longer and the sky turned bright red, Payton headed back towards the tower with Horse Thief. They had a fairly decent pile of wood and had started carrying it into the tower when Murderer returned, proudly carrying a dead deer over his shoulders.

"Yes!" exclaimed Horse Thief excitedly, his mouth watering. "We will feast tonight!"

"Not a bad way to celebrate our first day of freedom!" boomed Murderer as he set the deer on the ground. He hiked a thumb over his shoulder. "Found this girl by a stream not too far away. I need someone to help me grab some fresh water for the night."

Thief volunteered and the two retrieved some buckets from the tower to carry back and forth from the stream. That left Payton to finish bringing the newly acquired supplies back into the tower. Being a city boy, he had never seen an actual dead animal before. Those glassy, lifeless eyes stared at him accusingly. Some part of him knew he should feel sorry or sick but the rational part just kept telling him that this was what was needed to live. If this was an Isekai world, he would be stuck here for the foreseeable future if not forever.

He was done before the other two arrived so he placed the wood in the burner to start a fire. Boy Scout training came in use as he set up some kindling, created friction and subsequently started a fire. A cry from outside announced that Thief and Murderer were back and he escorted them both into the tower where they set the six buckets off to the side for some fresh drinking water. Thief then went off to the corner to gut the deer - something he was apparently skilled at given that he had lived alone for ten years. Murderer set up a makeshift skewers for when the meat was ready. There was more meat than they were going to eat in the one night so in an attempt to store the remainder, Murderer took off his shirt, tore it into pieces and wrapped the remaining, bloodied meat in them to keep them for as long as possible.

Payton couldn't help but ogle Murderer's strong, muscled build. Weeks or possible months of poor grooming had caused his fur to become shaggy and grow out a little but even then, his powerful chest protruded from his torso, casting intimidating shadows over his rippling abdominals. When his arms moved, the mounds on his back looked like mountain ranges shifting due to tectonic movement. He was certainly intimidating but held this calm, comforting aura that gave Payton a sense of security.

Murderer set out cooking the venison while Thief watched in anticipation, his muzzle watering and knees bouncing excitedly. Payton associated Horse Thief with an excitable puppy. Friendly, loyal and eager to please. Even given the dour surroundings, the bat gave off a bit of light on his own that brightened the mood. The smell of cooking meat quickly made Payton aware of just how hungry he was so he sought to distract himself with something.

His eyes went to the parcel of meat that Murderer had packaged. Curiosity got the better of him and he used the GetRef function to check its reference. A string of numbers and letters streamed before his eyes that he was sure was somehow readable to someone.

Huh... I wonder if the reference changes if I remove it from the package...

To test his theory, he stripped off the piece of Murderer's clothing from the slab of venison and, true to his theory, the reference number changed. The meat had its own reference while the bloodied fabric was another. When he wrapped it together again, the identification switched back to what it originally was.

Interesting.

Another function near GetRef on the list caught his eye.

GetItem... Worth a shot.

With a shrug, he invoked GetItem and placed the reference number for the venison wrapped in Murderer's shirt. There was a soft, musical trill. From the lack of a reaction from either Murderer or Thief, he guessed only he could hear it. Half a second later, there was a loud, wet plop as another slab of deer meet wrapped in bloodied cloth landed on his lap, soaking into his shorts.

"Oh!" he gasped, immediately picking it up and placing it on the table.

Murderer glanced over his shoulder with a faint smile on his snout. "I know you're hungry but eating raw meat isn't a good idea. It won't be much longer."

"Funny," he replied with a sarcastic edge. "But watch this." He stood up, shorts still soaked in a bit of blood, and then invoked GetItem once again, this time holding out his paws so that the package would have somewhere to land on. A second later, there was another bloody morsel in his paws. Murderer's smug smirk immediately faded and Thief's big ears were perked in excitement.

"Amazing!" exclaimed the bat, bouncing onto his feet. "You can conjure food out of nowhere!? Can you do it with anything!?"

Grinning, he placed the new parcel on the table and glanced at the chair he had been sitting on. "I think so. Let's see..." Once again, he held out his paws, got the reference of the chair and invoked the function.

The chair was much heavier than he had first thought. It immediately appeared standing straight in the air but its legs were nowhere near his arms. Gravity quickly took over and though his paws caught its seat, it immediately tilted back and ...

WHAM!

... its backrest slammed into his muzzle.

Murderer chortled while Thief rushed towards him, taking the chair from his and checking for injuries.

"I think I should be careful what I create," he mumbled, wiggling his new lupine nose. "But in essence... yet. I think I can make almost anything."

"You invoked something like 'Get Item', right?" Thief said, setting down the chair. "Maybe there's a spell in your arsenal that's 'Make Item' or something like that?" He gave the bat a puzzled look and Thief glanced away, a light blush on his cheeks. "Sorry... I didn't mean to tell you how to use your abilities, Your Evilness. I just thought that... 'get' sort of implies that it'll appear in your possession..."

Damn... That's actually smart.

"No," he said, gently resting a paw on Thief's shoulder. "You're absolutely right. Let me see..." Payton closed his eyes, scanning the list of commands he could use. There was no 'MakeItem' but there was 'SpawnRef' or the far more specific 'SpawnRefatLoc'. "SpawnRef," he announced after opening his eyes and immediately, a chair appeared where he was looking. A good thing it was in an empty space because he couldn't imagine what would happen if a chair spontaneously appeared in the middle of the table or - worse yet - inside someone.

"Amazing!" exclaimed thief.

He tried out SpawnRefatLoc but was told that he needed to give coordinates. Luckily, the GetCoOrd function gave him what appeared to be the X, Y and Z axis coordinates of where he was directly looking at. A quick test using the SpawnRefatLoc allowed him to spawn any item anywhere even if he wasn't directly looking at it. This became especially useful when Murderer found a knife that they could use to cut the now-cooked meat and Payton was able to clone it for everyone to use. The buckets of water also came of use as now they didn't have to worry about running out.

Mind buzzing with possibilities, Payton sat down with the other two at the table as they ate. The venison was gamey and tough but he wasn't about to complain. It was the first thing he had eaten in hours and he was starved. The cool, fresh spring water helped it go down. An idea sprang to mind as he was eating and he grabbed the old book that he had found. As the fire was going down, he grabbed one of the cold pieces of charcoal and began writing down the references he had thus far obtained in the dusty pages.

"Making your own Grimoire?" Murderer asked. "Sounds like you really are a Reader. The first Grigori Reader."

He rolled his eyes at the boar and went to work. There was no telling if he'd ever have to spawn a chair or a table anywhere but he decided to keep it just in case. While the console allowed him to immediately copy and edit previous commands or results of commands, if he was going to be in this world for months or years, he would need some way to keep track of references he had obtained. A 'Grimoire' seemed fitting.

The sun was starting to set and though they had a fire going, the big hole in the side of the tower let a bitter cold flow in.

"Don't suppose you can conjure up a blanket or something?" asked Murderer, rubbing his large, furry arms. "My fur is thick but not that thick."

Payton shook his head apologetically. "I can only create something I have a reference of." Then an idea came to mind as he regarded his own shirt. "Although..."

I may to be able to create a blanket but if I can just make a lot of shirts, we can sleep on it to keep us warm. At least for now.

Strangely, when he tried to use GetRef on the shirt he was wearing, he got no results. His brow furrowed as he tried to regard it from different angles. When he glanced over to Horse Thief who was still wearing the shirt, he got a reference number though he wasn't sure if that was the bat's reference or the shirt.

Frowning slightly, he pulled the shirt over his head.

"Hold on there," Murderer said, holding up his hands tipped with big, black nails. "I'm not so cold you need to suffer. Besides, your shirt won't fit me. If we just sleep close together to preserve warmth..."

"It's not that," Payton interrupted, holding the shirt out at arm's length.

Now there's a reference number... Weird.

Diverting his gaze a little further away from the shirt onto his own paw and again, he was met with a blank value.

I don't think I can do anything to myself... If I aim well enough, I could target it like the shackles but if it's too close to me, like my shirt I can't. It's like I emit a sort of field that stops me from getting the reference.

Good to know.

With the reference ID of his shirt, he quickly cloned it, creating about thirty or so which served as a makeshift bed and blankets. He reserved one to slip back on but the rest when on the floor which could serve as their bed for the night. The three of them lay in close proximity to one another, some shirts draped over their furry bodies while the sounds of the night and the faintly crackling and dying fire echoing in the tower.

Murderer fell asleep almost instantly, letting out soft snoring but Payton could tell that Thief was still very much awake.

"Payton?" began the bat softly.

"Yeah?"

"What do we do from here?"

It was a question that he had plagued him between every little experiment. Each success was met with the question of 'how can I make this work for me in this world?' He briefly wondered if he could make some money selling copied knives, shirts or chairs. Even if he got one unit of currency, given that he could create them infinitely, there was a potential to be very lucrative. However, the fact that he was a Grigori meant that there was a good chance no one would sell to him anyway. At the very least, he could make himself buckets of water and lots of venison to keep him alive but how long would that last? How long until the Readers and Listeners hunt him down? Could they wait until the Black Halo disappeared before they could make a living? How long until the next Black Halo appears?

"How long ago did the Black Halo appear?" he asked.

Horse Thief sighed softly. "Just a week or so, really. First one I've experienced. Never been so afraid in my life..."

"How long do they normally last?"

"I don't know. Like I said, it's my first one and I've only heard about it every now and then from the few people I've talked to."

Murderer let out a soft grunt, indicating that he was awake. "The shortest one that ever lasted is apparently six weeks. Longest, nearly a century."

A pit formed in Payton's stomach. "Sorry to wake you."

The boar grunted, rolling onto his side to face Payton. "Look, I don't care if you're the Dark Lord or not but you're our best chance of survival right now. We try to make it out there on our own and we are going to die. We'll be hunted down and killed, our heads served on silver platters to the Readers. But with your abilities, we might just be able to make it through this."

That made him smile softly. "Thanks for the vote of confidence. But I think we'll need to do more than just hole up in this place and eat venison for the next hundred years."

Thief suddenly sat up. "Let's get classes!"

The raucous laughter from Murderer echoed throughout the tower. "Right. Nameless Grigori like us getting classes. You dream big, kid."

Hmmm... I wonder.

Payton scanned through the list of commands for anything that referenced 'classes' or 'class'. To his surprise, there was a function called 'ChangeClass'. Using the help function, he found that it could be used to forcibly set a character's class... but there was a warning label that attached. Apparently, classes had level requirements and prerequisites. It warned that if he forcibly set someone's class to something they didn't have the necessary prerequisites to, there was a great potential for self-harm or, at the very least, they would be incapable of using their own abilities.

"Tell me about classes," he said.

Murderer sighed and leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head. A strong odour of the road and musk wafted from his armpit making Payton recoil. Lupines had a strong sense of smell, after all.

"Classes come in five varieties. Base Classes, Advanced, Prestige, Master and Grandmaster. If you're ever lucky to get a name, you'll start off with one of the four Base Classes; Brawler, Archer, Mage or Rogue. That's when you can start gaining power and levels."

"Oh! I know this one!" Thief exclaimed. "Levels come in three different varieties as well! Character, Equipment and Skill! Accomplishing great tasks and getting your name more well-known will give you power and improve your Character Level. That gives you general improvements to your abilities. Using different equipment more gives you Equipment Levels which increases your specialization, handling and maybe even unlocking certain abilities of the specific equipment you have. Skill Levels are tied with your Character Level. The more your increase your Character Level in your class, you get more Skills. The more you use those Skills, the more powerful they get!"

Damn... That's a complicated system. I don't think any game back home would ever do something so... convoluted.

It apparently got even more complicated when it came to the Classes above Base Classes. As Murderer explained, working on a Base Class only got you so far. Base Classes maxed out at Level 20. After that, the named had to pick an Advanced Class which was a more complicated but powerful version of their Base Class, often specializing in certain areas of the Base Class. From then on, Advanced Classes could max out at Level 20 giving a total Character Class of 40. After that people could obtain Prestige Classes which were generally hybridized versions of Base Classes, allowing the heroes of the world to either pick up skills from another Class or further specialize into their own. Again, another 20 levels were allocated to the Prestige Classes to a total Character Level of 60.

It was the Master and Grandmaster Classes that drew upon even greater powers; powers that could rival even the Speakers. Most Speakers were Master or Grandmaster level. Masters had Character Levels of 60 - 80 and, naturally, Grandmasters were levels 81 - 100. These classes afforded powerful and unique abilities that few could rival. Listeners, however, were on a different scale and didn't need Classes, placing them above and beyond mere class requirements. Readers even more so.

"I've heard rumors that Readers are like Level 1000," rumbled Murderer. "Little wonder as most of them are supposedly immortal."

"Really?" Payton asked, that pit forming in his gut again.

"Ever since Inferiorix started the Reader Revolution, he's shared with every Reader the secrets to immortality. Not a single Reader has died since that happened and they have ruled since."

"Are you sure they're not all secretly dead and everyone is just holding onto a shadow of their rule because that's what everyone is used to?" he asked, hoping that this world following that cliche.

Thief shook his head grimly. "No. I've seen Orphan and some other Readers too. They make frequent visits to one another to 'exchange knowledge' or something. They make appearances in towns and use their powers to give people free stuff."

That's right. Murderer said that people are so dependent on the Listeners and Readers for their day-to-day that it makes sense they'd constantly make appearances to cement their power.

Payton sat up, gazing out at the strange, blue moon high in the sky possessing what appeared to be a whole ring system around its equator. "Okay. So how do we go about getting a class?"

Murderer rolled onto his side, back turned to Payton. "You generally have to do something really amazing and get recognized for it. Normally, Listeners or Speakers give you that name."

Recalling something along those lines, he turned back towards Thief. "Did you say you were named once before?"

The bat waved a hand absently in his direction. "No. That was more of a title. A name is something like... I dunno... 'Batwing Bloodbiter' or something like that." That caught Murderer's attention and the boar turned back towards him with a deadpan stare. "What? I don't know!"

Payton rubbed his chin in deep though. "Do you think... If I give you name, that'd work?"

Murderer sat up, bringing all three of them sitting up and looking at the moon. "I suppose... Though I don't know the exact mechanics of it..."

As tempting as it was to just give Accused Murderer and Horse Thief actual names, it seemed names - and indeed knowledge itself - was a core mechanic in this world. Even if he started calling them something different, he was fairly sure that it wouldn't be enough to unlock classes or other abilities with either of them. There was something else he was missing...

Okay... let's think about this.

I'm basically promoting NPCs to PCs... to Characters. So... maybe I need to look at their Character Sheet or something?

He quickly did a search on commands for anything on 'character sheets'.

Nothing.

Maybe just 'Character'.

Again, nothing.

But what if...?

He just searched for 'Char'.

Bingo.

Looks like whoever programmed the world had abbreviated 'Character' to 'Char' as there was a plethora of commands relating to it from 'SpawnChar', 'RenameChar' and the previously used 'ResetCharStatus'. Retrospectively speaking, he should have figured that out sooner because he had used the function earlier.

The most curious one he found was 'EditChar'. According to the help function, it would open the Character Sheet of the referenced character. Accused Murderer's reference was NPCH5408574309D and Horse Thief's was NPCH6433278991A. It was a facepalm moment when he realized that the first three letters clearly denoted that they were 'NPCs' or Non-Player Characters.

Okay... Let's do this.

"I think I know how to five you both names and classes," he announced. "Who wants to go first?"

Thief held up his hands, waving at him. "Oh! Me! Me! Do me!"

Murderer watched quietly as Payton turned towards the bat and took a deep breath.

"EditChar..."

A glistening panel of light appeared in front of him. There was a section called 'Base Statistics' which included things such as race, name and so forth. Within this section were six attributes for Strength, Endurance, Dexterity, Intelligence, Wisdom and Charisma. Unsurprisingly, Horse Thief had relatively high Dexterity and Charisma but only moderate Wisdom and everything else was on the lower end. Beneath the Base Statistics were 'Derived Statistics'. These were tied to the Base Statistics and directly influenced the character. While he could directly edit the Derived Statistics, their growth was tied to the Base Stats. Improving Strength, for instance, would improve the Derived Statistic for Carry Weight or 'Muscle Mass'. Endurance could improve weight or Dexterity could improve height and so forth. His cheeks turned red when he noticed that a Derived Statistic was reserved for 'sex appeal'.

Brushing that aside, he noticed that under 'name' Horse Thief was actually named 'Bat Grigori Outcast'. A small biography beneath a portrait of Horse Thief outlined how, as a Grigori, he found himself in the forest and was forced to take care of himself. This was thankfully between Black Halos so when he encountered his first human travelers, he was greeted with some degree of hospitality and they filled him in on the world. Sadly, when the Halo did appear, his attempt to flee was met with capture. A special section under 'Abilities' was reserved for his 'Vocal Mimicry' ability which gave a full description of the unique skill given to him as a Grigori. Interestingly, Horse Thief had no memory of his previous life.

What caught his attention was the little checkbox that marked him as an 'NPC'.

"Okay," Payton said, clapping his paws together. "Before I start. What name do you want and what class are you going for?"

Horse Thief beamed brightly and got to his feet, striking a pose like he was hosting a big sword in the air. "I want to start off a Brawler! Then I can be a strong and powerful knight! I'll defend you, my Dark Lord, with my sword and shield!"

He dreams big...

"Uh..." Payton absently scratched his cheek. "I can give you a name and class but I don't know if I can readily give you muscle mass or the skill to be like that. You'd have to work hard and that'd take away from your natural skills you've developed these past ten years. How about we go with an Archer or a Rogue."

Thief's shoulders sagged and he slumped back to the floor, legs crossed. "That makes sense. Oh well." As quick as that, his features turned bright and he grinned at Payton. "I'll leave my name to you!"

No pressure. It's just like naming my first kid...

With a wave of his way, he switched the 'NPC' toggle off and the entire character sheet changed before him, giving him bigger and greater options for customization. Thankfully, it seemed that he could take a sort of 'character wizard' that allowed him to go through the steps of creating a character. Sadly, he couldn't change Payton's race. But he could change the bat's class which, currently, sat at 'None'. It seemed he could stack on the levels as well but given Payton's overeagerness, he was a little scared what kind of death and destruction a level 100 bat Grigori could unleash upon the world.

So he kept Horse Thief at Level 1 and made him a Rogue. There were a few class features that Rogues possessed - like having a bonus to stealth and speech checks which would compliment his natural ability. The sneak attack and backstab bonuses would also be very important given that they were going to have to be very stealthy from here on out. Being a Rogue naturally gave him a bonus to his Dexterity and Intelligence.

Then came the hardest part.

Name... What do I name him...?

He looked at the eager bat Grigori who was bouncing in place.

He doesn't like being called a 'bloodsucker' so that's out...

Payton took note of the small, webbed growths on the underside of Horse Thief's arms that would have been his wings if they weren't shrunk and unused.

"Ravenus," he announced. "Ravenus Shadowing."

The bat's eyes widened in glee. "Oooh! I love it!"

Breathing a sigh of relief, Payton smiled. "Okay then!" He committed the change, closing the sheet.

A soft, golden light surrounded Horse Thief - now Ravenus - and quickly vanished. The bat regarded his hands, turning them over and over as if expecting something to happen.

"I... I don't really feel that different," he admitted.

"You are just Level 1," rumbled Accused Murderer. "But if it really worked, then you can grow stronger now."

"It's a start," Payton agreed, turning around to face the boar. "Your turn."

The big, four-armed man puffed out his chest and Payton accessed his character sheet. As was to be expected, Murderer had high strength and endurance but relatively low dexterity and charisma. His intelligence and wisdom were in the mid-ranges, however. His racial feature ensured that he could carry more due to his extra arms and that he could wield two two-handed weapons as easily.

But it was his biography that caught his attention.

What the...?

Accused Murderer was actually once part of the Godmage Military. A soldier for Inferiorix. That dragon tattoo on his face was a symbol of his service. As a Grigori with the ability to wield powerful, heavy weapons with ease, he was prized on the battlefield and actually served in rooting out any sparks of rebellion against the Readers or forcing villages and townships into submission for the Godmage and the Readers. He survived the previous Black Halo when his commanding officer, a man whom he loved and they shared the bed multiple times, had vouched for him and kept him from the chopping block. However, said officer died on the onset of the most recent Black Halo when the flood of Grigori that came with the Halo's appearance caused vast swathes of destruction. Everyone in his platoon knew about their relationship and disproved of it so when the opportunity arose to accuse Murderer of killing his commanding officer with the reason of being 'free' to join the other Grigori, they pounced on the opportunity. Having never been given a name, Murderer never gained enough strength to fight back and was thus carted away to be executed.

That's how he knows about all this stuff. He was once part of the military and even hunted Grigori!

Distrust began to well up in his chest but he quickly dismissed it. Murderer was the victim of discrimination. The guy was loyal. He stuck by his commanding officer - the man he loved - even though he was surrounded on all sides by enemies. Even when he was falsely accused of murder, he didn't fight back.

"Before I give you a name," Payton began. "If it ever comes to it, can you kill a member of the Godmage Military?"

There was no sign of any hesitation on Murderer's face save perhaps a slight widening of his eyes. Payton strongly suspected his companion now knew that he was aware of his past.

"Not if it is the first order given," rumbled the boar. "Those men are just doing what they're told and don't know anything else. I'd rather talk and educate them first before I take their lives. But if it is between the life of those that I cherish versus their own, I will not hesitate."

"Good enough," Payton said, activating the character sheet. "I'm going to make you a Brawler and give you the name Durandal Fourfist."

The boar gave him a toothy grin as the golden light encased him. "I like it."

Payton nodded and turned to each of his companions in turn. "Alright then. With that settled, I guess the next thing to do is make ourselves stronger. We can discuss what our actual plan will be in the morning."

"Let's get some rest," agreed Durandal, lying back down. "We're going to need it."

"I can't wait to start!" exclaimed Ravenus, lying back down. "This is so exciting."

Payton chuckled softly and turned on his side, facing Ravenus. "Just don't keep us up if you're going to be bouncing around all night."

As he closed his eyes to drift off to sleep, he was surprised when two, big, thick arms wrapped around his waist and a thick body pressed up against his back. Durandal's snout hovered over his ear, his hot breath wafting against the wolf's ears.

"Thank you."

******

The big, green and blood-red axe came down with a loud, meaty squish. The soldiers around Gaolsheer squirmed as the last of the goblins squealed in terror while clutching its bloody stump of a leg. The executioner grinned savagely, his eyes wide and mad as he lifted his enormous weapon one more time, easy hefting the massive executioner's axe in one hand. The double-bladed axe almost seemed to scream in ecstasy as it bit into the neck of the goblin, ending its squealing and its life.

Panting as if he had just had the most blissful orgasm in his life, Gaolsheer's mad, red eyes roved the bloody room. It had been the small atrium to his executioner's hut. Blood was splattered all over the walls. The entrails of the fifteen goblins that the patrol had come with decorated the floor like some sort of macabre painting. The green skin of these pathetic creatures was completely covered in their blood. Off in the corner, two soldiers, stripped of their armor and gagged, lay quivering in fear.

The Goblin Knight's patrol had finally arrived and they came with tributes. Eight of the goblins had served as an appetizer for Goblinshredder and the main course were those three Grigori that the patrol had managed to capture and return. Dessert was the remaining goblins. A good meal especially after Goblinshredder had been left for a while. A meal that was enough to spare the lives of the two soldiers who had come rushing to him the day before to report that the Grigori had escaped and killed one of their own. Lucky for the two as well. He had been just a few short hours away from feeding them to Goblinshredder. Those soldiers from the patrol stood by the door, looking sick but paralyzed by fear.

"Bring me a horse," he huffed. "We ride."

One of the soldiers swallowed hard, that small sound immediately catching Gaolsheer's attention. Any sound made by the neck was such ecstasy to him. A hard swallow was the sing-song chorus of a much grander opera.

"Y - Y - Yes, Sir Gaolsheer," quivered the soldier. "S - Shall I send w - word?"

Goalsheer straightened, his shoulders hanging loosely and his wide, mad grin remaining in place. "Yes. Yes. Tell the Goblin Knight that I will need his finest men and goblins. We will need them."

"F - F - For what, sir?"

With a speed that belied his hefty weight, Gaolsheer was suddenly upon the soldier, slamming into him and pressing his meaty forearm against the man's neck. The wooden wall behind the armored man cracked and splintered from the impact. Gaolsheer pressed his face right next to the man, their noses almost touching.

"The Grigori would have either followed the road to come here where I would have sniffed them out or they would have gone to one other place, Avergreen. We must go there quickly. Tell the Goblin Knight to send his men to meet us there." His grin grew broader, saliva oozing from the corners of his mouth. "I will bring our great Reader Orphan the heads of those three escaped Grigori personally!"

******

Payton woke with a distinct chill like something was missing. He stirred from under his sheets... only to find the sheets falling apart around him and leaving him even colder like he was tearing holes into the blanket. Pushing his eyes open, he remembered that he wasn't in his own bed in his townhome and was actually in the fantastical world of Lexcia. The 'bedsheets' were, in fact, cloned shirts and as he moved, they fell away leaving him exposed.

What he found worrying, however, was the fact that his newly named companions Ravenus and Durandal were missing.

Oh fuck! Please don't tell me I accidentally killed them by giving them names!

Panic quickly set in and he scrambled to his feet, still unused to his claws clicking loudly against the stone floors as he rushed towards the nearby wall. After a quick activation of Clipping Mode, he passed through the wall and into the bright, morning sunlight.

There, he caught sight of two stunning figures.

"Good morning!" exclaimed Ravenus with a deeper, more masculine voice

Payton's eyes widened and his jaw fell open in shock.

The skinny, malnourished bat Grigori once known as Horse Thief was gone. In his place stood a tall - almost seven feet - lean, muscular man with strong, protruding pectorals, thick, powerful arms with veins crisscrossing his forearms and thick thighs that caused his shorts to burst. Ravenus' formerly shaggy blonde hair had been tied back into a ponytail behind his head while his beard had been tripped back to hug his strong, square jawline. The wings on his arms which had been so small and looked more like tiny fins had moved onto his back, now two enormous, webbed monstrosities that could easily block out the sun. A small crest of blonde hair poked out between Ravenus' tight pectorals, adding character to his lean frame. It seemed he had discarded his shirt because it could simply not fit his taller, broader physique.

Beside him, was the equally towering Durandal. They were the same height now and while Durandal didn't seem to gain much in terms of height, he certainly obtained much more width. His powerful torso seemingly doubled in size, becoming so much bigger, thicker and more defined to the point that it might as well have been steel body armor. All four of his pectorals were big, plump and lean that it was possible to see the individual striations across them. His abdominals had filled out, his belly as a whole ballooning to be a little rounder and like a single, bigger pectoral that matched the size of his other four. Durandal had to completely go without his shorts as his thighs simply could not fit them. That left his incredibly impressive genitals to hang between his massive thighs making Payton's gaze immediately snap back up to the boar's thick, reddish-brown chest fluff and broad, grinning features.

"What... What the hell happened to you two?" he exclaimed.

"We just became heroes and adventurers," Durandal replied, flexing one of his arms. "We've got to look the part, right?"

Uh... I guess?

"Well," Ravenus said, beaming brightly. "What's the plan, Dark Lord?"