SMASH or PASS

Next morning.

The job I took was rat extermination in the Warehouse District, it should pay pay 5 silver coins.

I had two reasons. I wanted money, and I wanted to verify the system’s claim that combat generated SP with my own eyes.

Fenra came along with me too.

Outside, she’s a different person from the one at home, her ears were rotating like a radar, her was nose pulling in information I can’t read, her posture was low and her footsteps were silent.

The site was a flat warehouse near the Outer Rampart.

Inside it was dark and damp, soaked in the smell of rotten grain.

My weapon was a new one I bought.

A huge Wooden club!

...

What?

FYI, real steel weapons cost a fortune in here.

That was the cheapest I can get.

I took a practice stance.

For the record, my mana sits at the rock bottom of First Rank. During assessment, the clerk re-measured it twice thinking the device was broken. Magic combat? fully out of the window.

"Let’s go, Fenra."

Her ears were already locked onto one point.

’Such a useful girl~’

◇◇◇

In the next hour, to summarize it: I just hit big rats with a stick, repeatedly.

Not one fragment of a hero’s tale in it.

Some of the rats were cat-sized. They hissed, and they absolutely would bite. One jumped at my face, so I swatted it sideways on reflex, and it made a sound like a wet rag slapping a wall.

The early stretch was a mountain of whiffs. The club was heavier than it looked, and my arms were only used to carrying grocery bags.

Still, around the fifth kill, I noticed something. You don’t need magic power with a club. Just hit them.

The rats aren’t complicated enemies. They come at you, you swing, you hit them, or you miss and swing again.

But the real star wasn’t me.

Fenra blocked their escape routes with low growls and minimal steps, driving three or four at a time into corners. Then she’d take one step back and pass the finishing blow to me.

So In other words...

Fenra: 99% of the work.

Me: 1%

Her job was tactics. My job was blunt weapons. She did 99% of the work, and I was only responsible for landing finishing blow.

To be honest, I feel that she can just finish this easily on her own but she gave me the killing hit for emotional support.

[Combat SP: +1]

Meh. It’s not like I’ll complain.

I got One point per rat. I stared at the display on the third kill to confirm it, and it wasn’t a lie. Quietly, plainly, reliably, the number climbed.

Past ten, I started counting along with the system.

Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen.

Small numbers. Laughably small.

Fifteen. Sixteen.

My shoulders were burning. The club felt twice as heavy as when I started.

Fenra looked exactly the same as she did an hour ago. Chasing rats was far below her capabilities; it didn’t even seem like exercise to her.

Rat twenty. The last one had bolted under a shelf, and Fenra waited in full-encirclement stance. The rat made its desperate break, and one front paw tapped it right back into place.

I brought the club down with a thunk.

[Quest Complete: Rat Extermination]

[Combat SP: +20]

[Completion Bonus: +10]

[Total SP: 30]

Thirty!

My first real money.

I leaned on the club and caught my breath. My arms wouldn’t lift, my shirt was wringable, and there was rat blood on my shoes.

Fenra sat on a crate by the entrance, wagging her tail as she watched me with her amber eyes.

Not a single strand of her fur was out of place.

"...Hey. You could’ve finished this whole thing solo, right?"

Her head tilted, and the angle said it all: you’re just noticing now?

I received five silver coins at the guild counter and headed home. The sun was beginning to set. The streets were quiet; it was the time when the factory’s evening shift was ending. In other words, the crowd was tired and didn’t have the energy to stare intently at every man they passed.

I arrived at the apartment and promptly fell asleep. Fenra rested her head on me for the rest of the night. After her performance today, I couldn’t complain.

◇◇◇

Next morning.

Standing in front of the Bronze Ledger’s quest board, I was thinking about my wallet and the remaining balance of my life.

Academy entrance fee: 15 gold.

Equipment: 8 gold.

Materials: around 5 gold.

Total: 28 gold coins. Well, let’s compromise on equipment and make it 23.

My entire fortune: 8 silver.

"...."

Yep. I’m two whole digits short.

And the deadline is in two weeks. Deadlines don’t take my wallet’s needs into consideration. Even though the world has changed, that one thing remains the same as on Earth.

The Greenveil farm contract was in couple of days. It paid 2 gold plus SP, which was big, but "couple of days" was the problem. I don’t have the luxury of just sitting around waiting for days.

I scanned the board top to bottom.

Combat: another rat extermination, 5 silver.

Meh. Already did it and the smell was... horrible.

Pest control, 3 silver. Escort duty, 8 silver, Copper rank support only.

They paid...

...Little. Way too little, and my arms still hurt.

Then, let’s try other quests.

[Breeding Contract: Catkin communal housing, Patchwork District]

[Duration: 2 days]

[Compensation: 1.5 gold]

[Requirements: Male, health certification on presentation]

That’s 150 silver!

Thirty rats’ worth of pay, in two days.

Between this and the rats... well.

Some problems in life don’t need thinking about.

I brought the posting to the counter and Yenna looked up. The moment she recognized me, her ears popped straight up.

"Oh, Noel! The next one already? You’re a hard worker~"

"I’m just broke."

"Such an honest boy~" She laughed and started prepping the stamp. "This is your first time signing a Patchwork housing contract, right? So, here are a few things to keep in mind."

"Please."

"First, the entrance. Contractors use the north gate. The south gate goes Covenant-Race-only after sundown. Go in the wrong one and the patrol will grab you. That’s a solid hour of document checks. Those women are bored and horny. A boy like you will be fucked dry in no time~"

I gulped.

"North gate. Sundown. Got it."

"Bring just the health certification and the contract. Meals and a bed are on the client. Standard for multi-day contracts." She stamped the papers with a fluid motion, then lowered her voice. "And, this one’s personal advice."

"What?"

"Catkin are... opinionated."

"Opinionated?"

"Cowkin just stand there, you know. But catkin have preferences. They’ll say, ’Do this,’ ’Do that,’ ’That’s wrong,’ and so on. ...Good luck out there."

’...?’

I didn’t really understand what she meant but I nodded in a thankful smile anyway.

She held out the finished contract with both hands, like she was passing me holy water.

What exactly am I going off to fuck?

◇◇◇

Fenra was staying home this time.

Bringing a wolfkin along to a sleepover breeding contract at a stranger’s house was, by any common sense, several kinds of unprofessional. When I explained the situation on my way out, her ears folded all the way back and her tail stopped moving entirely.

"I’ll be back in two days."

No response.

"I’ll buy bread on the way home. Two loaves."

One ear twitched.

"Three."

Her tail hit the floor exactly once.

Negotiations concluded.

Cheap to settle, thank god, but I get the feeling my bread diplomacy is approaching its limits.

◇◇◇

The Patchwork District was a different city from the market street.

First, the roads were narrow.

The buildings ran three and four stories with the upper floors leaning out over the street, so the alleys were dim even at noon.

Laundry lines crossed overhead by the dozen, washing flapping like the flags of every nation.

And the density of ears and tails was on another level.

Cat ears, rabbit ears, occasionally fox ears. Nine out of ten people passing had some animal stuff on them.

The signs ran in two languages, one of them a chain of round little characters I couldn’t read at all. Some spice smell I’d never met drifted out of a food stall, where meat of some kind sizzled on a griddle.

What kind of meat? I was too scared to even know. Since I heard even cannibalism is common among beastkin.

A shadow darted overhead. Looking up, I saw three catkin children leaping from rooftop to rooftop. Three stories high, without a running start. There wasn’t even a sound of them landing.

...Wow, if a human child tries that, it’s a funeral.

I glanced toward the south gate and two bored patrol women in leather stood there. Following Yenna’s advice, I circled north. The north gate stood wide open with nobody even watching it. The gap in treatment is ridiculous.

The address was a three-story communal building two alleys in. Stone, old but kept up, with potted plants in the windows and a flower-shaped knocker on the door.

I knocked twice.