The next day, I woke up and had breakfast with the family. Ralph, as promised, guided me to Horace's farm, which was some miles away, but nowhere near the journey to and back from Brooks.
We arrive at a small house similar to Ralph's.
I knock on the door and a rugged man with a thick, messy stache answers.
"Yes, how can I help?"
"I'm here to take care of the request you posted."
"I see." He then catches sight of Ralph behind my back. "Ralph? What are you doing here? Don't tell me you became an adventurer at your age with a wife and three kids."
My friend chuckles, "No, no, it's nothing like that, I just happen to owe the kid my life. Saved me from a goblin ambush."
"Ah! Those nasty blighters were an annoying bunch to deal with back in the old days." Horace reminisces. He's most likely a former conscript like Ralph as well. "I'm just glad you made it back safe. We should talk some more, it's been far too long since we had a good chat."
Ralph agrees, "Same here, but I think we shouldn't keep our adventurer friend waiting."
"Of course!" He brings the conversation back to its original purpose.
"I can handle the ones in the fields myself, but someone has to deal with the ones grazing outside. Those things always manage to find some gap to squeeze through." Horace points a finger at one of his fields full of wheat. "Most of the buggers gorge themselves over there. Take care of them for me will you? At the rate they're eating through my crops, I'll end up bankrupt!"
"No problem! Leave it to me!"
I turn to leave, but not before Ralph calls out behind me, "Right! Be sure to collect their cores! That's how the Guild knows if you completed a request or not!"
I wonder how Ralph's so knowledgeable. Is he one of those NPCs or minor characters that act as a guide for the beginning of a series?
If so, does that mean I'm living in a novel? If I'm living in a novel, then what does that make my existence? The thoughts of a mere writer who writes and controls my fate?
Well, if I am living in a novel, then I only have one thing to say to my creator.
Hey, writer, if you're here: Fuck you.
I laugh at my own silly joke.
Surely there's no way my entire existence is just some words on a document brought to life by a mangaka or an animation studio desperate enough to adapt an isekai, right?
…
Why on earth did my thoughts wander in that direction? I must be going nuts.
Must be the isekai themes I'm encountering way too frequently.
Anyways, I've been dawdling about long enough.
I tread through the fields of lush wheat for a bit.
One of my uncles abroad is a farmer and I've been to his farm once for summer vacation.
Let's test out the 'Eyes of The All-Knowing' again. Surely it'll give me much more substantial information when used on a monster than a tree.
[An insignificantly weak race that can be killed with a stick. Should one struggle against fighting a single Slime, they should consider hanging themselves. Piercing attacks are very effective. Don't bother bludgeoning it.]
The hell? What sort of description is this?
The latter half is useless to me since I'm not a melee combatant, and the former half looks like a message written by an underpaid game developer working for Net of Marbles!
Whatever, let's just see what happens when I blast a Slime with magic.
Just like I did when killing the goblins, I make a gun with one hand and aim it at a slowly crawling slime.
"Eldritch Mote."
Once more, a small, unstable orb the size of a gumball shot forth.
'Splat!'
The Slime bursts, pieces of gel and liquid flying everywhere. What's left at the center is a lumpy blue core smaller than a child's fist.
Reminds me of how zits popped when squeezed. Or the boba in bubble tea and how it'd pop when I chewed on it.
Damn, I could use a sweet drink.
There are quite a few Slimes left. How many am I supposed to kill? I forgot to ask for the specifics, but Horace did ask me to clear out all of them, so why not.
"Eldritch Mote."
Another Slime splatters and drops its core.
Despite two of their compatriots dying, the Slimes don't react and continue absorbing the field's vegetation.
Very interesting, these guys are probably the variety that lack self-awareness and intelligence.
There's a lot of them, but with the energy efficiency of my spell, I simply blasted all of them from where I stood.
Soon enough, the ground became littered with Slime cores.
I have pretty good accuracy if I do say so myself. I once shot eight out of ten bullseyes when I went to a shooting range with my dad.
I wonder how my folks are doing back home.
…
Silence hangs in the air as I ponder my parents' reactions.
My parents have some quirks, but overall, the family atmosphere was decent.
They were quite supportive, they didn't indoctrinate me with their beliefs or force me to pursue a high-ranked university and good career.
It would be a lie to say I don't miss them.
Perhaps the excitement of being in a fantasy world hasn't worn off yet, as I don't have any strong feelings of wanting to return to Earth.
Who knows, as the days go by, maybe I'll become homesick.
Anyways. There's something else in need of my attention.
And that's the green popup showing I've levelled up my Eldritch Mote spell and my own level.
"Oh hey, level two, nice. I wonder if I can see my specific stats. Seeing as I'm a spellcaster, I probably have high Intelligence."
On the topic of stats, I never once saw my actual stat points. All I can view on this screen are the skills I have and the level I'm at.
Hmm… Not like it matters that much for now, but I should definitely check this out later.
I'll go to the adventurer outpost first to cash in the Slime cores.
Travelling from Horace's farm to the village took me a good hour. By the time I arrive, it's already noon.
The front desk girl this time is a timid, freckled ginger; cute, but not as smooth or cool as Karen.
I handed the stuttering girl the slime cores, and she gave me about two dozen coppers coins in return.
I took the liberty to utilize the outpost's built-in tavern services and ordered a chicken sandwich and juice, spending eight coppers total. Leaving me with only a little more than ten coppers.
Sitting at a table with my grilled chicken sandwich and a glass of cool grape juice, I take a moment to check my Eldritch Mote in the green status screen.
[Eldritch Mote is now Level 2.
Eldritch mote now deals more damage.
An additional mote can be conjured.]
Sweet! Not only do I get a bonus to damage, but I can also hit more targets!
Although I wish I could learn more skills. If this were D&D, as a Warlock, I should have, like what? Four spells?
Eh, but it's not like variety matters. Most players I know who play Warlock always spam that one spell beginning with Eldritch and the word associated with the onomatopoeia of the word 'boom.'
Still, it's a pretty good spell. I've been spamming it on scrubs for quite a bit and haven't gotten tired yet.
With this spell, I feel like I can take on the promotion exam, but it wouldn't hurt to gain some more experience.
I already killed plenty of slimes and goblins, but I've been doing it mostly solo, which is fine.
However, if I want to challenge dungeons- wait, this world has dungeons, right?
Shit, I forgot to ask.
Okay, even if there aren't any dungeons, there are probably points of interest to explore, such as ruins.
But we're in an isekai world, so there's probably going to be dungeons.
Stop, stop, I'm getting off track.
Whether dungeons exist or not, these ruins will most certainly contain monsters, traps and puzzles I doubt I can handle by myself.
If I want to venture into the unknown and brave its dangers, I'm going to need a squad backing me up.
Going to need a frontliner for aggro, a ranger to scout and a healer for support.
But where do I find these people? I doubt anyone would let a stranger into their groups so easily.
As if heaven answered my call…
A voice calls from behind, "Hey! The one with the weird clothes and black hair! You're an Otherworlder, right? Haven't seen your face around before."
Ah! What suspiciously perfect timing!
Let's hope whoever these guys are actually have good intentions of recruiting me.