The Last Experience Point

Everyone was staring at him, and Tyson didn't like it. His head hurt, his body was shaking, he had an itch on his left testicle that wasn't going away, and no matter how much he struggled, he couldn't break out of these Gods-be-damned restraints. Finally, with a whimper, Tyson began sobbing. And this only caused everyone to stare even more incredulously. What, had they never seen a man cry before? It was perfectly normal!

"Please just let me bribe you," he begged Sir Calador as the boiling hot sun made him feel like a frog in a witch's pot. On his knees, surrounded by Elves and a few humans, he was in a state of misery. The only person around who understood his suffering was his new—and possibly best—friend, Jimmy Green. Yet, for some reason, they'd let Jimmy go without a fuss while keeping Tyson in such an unbearable state. He was now up and about, stretching his legs. He'd agreed to fifty hours of "Elendroth service" in exchange for a pardon, and they were even allowing him to work any hours he pleased on any days he pleased.

If our crimes are the same, why am I still locked up?

As he wept, Sir Calador leaned closer to the Elvish girl called Seiley and said, "It's a good thing Kalana isn't here."

The girl nodded at him. "Yeah, she'd let him go as soon as he started crying."

Those were the only words they spoke aloud for a while as they continued to stare at him. There were occasional whispers, but aside from that, Tyson was simply being observed as he roasted in this evil, twisted heat. His emotions broke, he suffered a full meltdown, and he entered into a crying fit. "Please, please, just take my bribe, Sir Calador!" he begged.

He didn't know if this was all some kind of ritual mockery or if they somehow believed his passive ability was truly as good as they acted as though it were. After all, it required him to successfully strike a target again and again and again. What good was that? Were these people daft? Admittedly, he didn't know how this whole "adventuring world" worked, but surely, his ability was functionally useless on someone like Tyson. For the sake of the Gods, he didn't even know how to properly use a weapon!

Though frowned upon even among the political guilds, Tyson had gotten to level 35 by paying lower-ranking members of the People of Virtue to power-level him. Yes, peasant, you read that correctly. Tyson was a filthy, power-leveled scoundrel. Honestly? He'd never actually farmed any of the mobs on his estate. He'd simply reclined on a lawn chair sipping spiked iced teas while someone else leveled him up. Once, he'd even hired this incredibly, head-turningly attractive escort. The sort of woman that could heat up outer space. Tyson had actually paid to build a small, cabin-sized bedroom a few feet away from his mob pen, and he'd gotten it on with the woman while two squires of the guild leveled him up.

Why are they having me sit here? Is this a form of torture?

After what had to have been 2- or 3-years baking under the unforgiving island sun, he was finally treated to a modicum of kindness and civility thanks to Jimmy Green. Oh, what a gift of the Gods he was; Jimmy, displaying his decency and righteousness, brought Tyson over a cold bottle of water and held it up to his lips. "Thank you," he said gratefully, sipping at it.

"I'm sorry they got you here like this," Jimmy said.

"Are they going to kill me?"

"Definitely not."

"Then why am I tied up?"

Jimmy opened his mouth to answer, but at last, the unfeeling, malevolent wraith known as Sir Calador decided to illuminate the reason for himself. "You're there," he said, "because I'm not sure what to do with you yet."

The answer frustrated and angered Tyson. "That makes no sense," he argued. "Why do I have to be in such utter discomfort while you make your decision?"

"Because I said so."

He again whimpered. "And why? Why are you so cruel? There's not even any shade out here. I am being cooked. Why do this to your fellow man?"

"I'll tell you why," Sir Calador said as he approached closer and then squatted down so that they were both level and able to meet one another's eyes. "I don't trust you, and I don't like that you tricked Jimmy into buying drugs."

"Tricked him?" Tyson said, outraged. "The entire thing was his idea."

Sir Calador shifted his eyes to the right. "Is this true, Jimmy?"

"I'm pleading the fifth."

"Once again, that doesn't mean anything here on Galterra."

"I don't care," Jimmy replied. "I confess to nothing."

"That just means you're guilty."

"Not where I'm from."

"Whatever."

Tyson, stressed and fearful, asked, "What are you planning to do with me?"

Sir Calador pursed his lips somewhat as he said, "I'm thinking of whether or not I should keep you around."

"And if you decide not to?"

"Then I'll let you go and lie and say you were a great servant or whatever in exchange for a big bribe. Like I want a million gold at the minimum. Maybe two."

"Oh, I'll pay that!"

Trelvor grunted. "No you will not! I, for one, will not allow that kind of conduct, Zach. It's dishonorable. If you are not going to make good on this man's offer of servitude, then you will let him go with dignity. Bribery is immoral and unjust."

As Tyson further collapsed into despair, tears sliding down his face, he said, "I'm fine with it."

"I don't care. There will be no bribery."

Tyson began to pant. He felt like he was on fire. It was just getting hotter and hotter as the day progressed. "Can we please at least speak like people and not beasts? Sir Calador, I implore you: unbind me. I'm in so much discomfort."

Surprisingly, a touch of softness did enter Sir Calador's face. Tyson had heard that the boy was a mass-murdering maniac, someone who would slit a throat for the most benign of reasons. Yet with a stunning amount of compassion, he whispered, "Yeah, all right" and then he asked Londril for the key to his wrist shackles. By this point, the Elvish Queen had already vacated the island, likely to attend to that nasty business over in Shadowfall Coast, and the Elvish Goddess, Eilea, had been whisked away to some other section of the island to meet with Elvish scholars.

And so now, walking around behind him, Sir Calador at last undid his restraints, which were made of high-level materials he could not break free from. Relief flooded into his aching wrists, and then into his ankles as those restraints were undone as well. Finally, he stood up, sweat pouring down his face.

"Hm?" Tyson inhaled and flinched. "Oh, Gods, what's that?" he shouted.

"What's what?" Sir Calador asked.

"That," he pointed. Sir Calador looked.

"Haha, you fool!"

Tyson turned around and sprinted away. This was his chance to make a daring escape. He took off running as fast as he could, pumping his arms as he ran. He looked over his shoulder as he began to gain distance, the sun punishing him as he got farther and farther away. He was running down a gentle slope, and even with his lackluster speed, he was still at least as fast as someone peddling a bicycle, which meant in no time at all, he was putting this recently erected Elvish town out of sight. Ahead of him was the beginning of some forest. It would be the perfect place to lose his pursuers.

Wait, are they even pursuing?

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Rather than chase after him, his final sight of his captors was of them merely shaking their heads. Perhaps they knew it was impossible to contain him. Hmm, yes. It seemed his will to be free and do drugs and sleep with women was far stronger than their will to coerce him into their twisted ends. That was likely the only reason why—

"SQUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" cried a massive, level-45 bird that swooped down at him from the top of a nearby, forty-foot-tall tree.

"SQUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" screeched four others, an entire flock of them descending upon him.

Tyson turned around. "Just kidding! I changed my mind!" he screamed as he ran his way back up the hill and towards the area that they'd called the…

Oh, right. The mob-free zone. So that's why. I get it now.

"Help me!" he begged as the mobs gained on him. With his entire body now drenched from head to toe in perspiration, he dove forward, his belly slamming into the grass just behind Sir Calador. "Please! Please don't let them kill me!"

At the same time, the Elves rushed forward. "Fear them," a broad-shouldered Elf wearing a green cloak ordered. "But do not kill them. Her Majesty has forbidden us from hunting."

As four additional green-cloaked and two white-cloaked Elves dashed beyond him and towards the flock of mobs that he'd accidentally aggroed, he once more climbed up to his knees, turned to Sir Calador, and said, "So…about that bribe?"

Behind him, the squawking turned fearful as the birds began flying off together in the opposite direction. Glancing over his shoulder, he realized that, upon reaching the forest, they continued to flee and did not return. The Elves, who had chased them away, then glared threateningly at him, and one even brandished his dagger and said, "Do that again and we let them eat you."

Sir Calador, who looked amused but also frustrated, made a gesture with his chin towards a very large, two-story home. It was a gesture Tyson interpreted as meaning he should follow, and so he did. Sir Calador spoke to him as they walked.

"I get that you don't want to be here," he said, "but what I don't understand is why."

"Hm? Why what?"

He opened the front door, and the Gods-be-praised air conditioning made him sigh with relief, the cool air rejuvenating him. Sir Calador pointed to a specific spot at the dining table in the kitchen, and Tyson took a seat there. Then the boy sat across from him. "You've got really great potential," he said. He leaned in closer and studied Tyson's face in a way that made him uncomfortable. "You don't believe I'm telling the truth though, do you?"

Tyson decided to be honest. "I believe you're either messing with me or gravely mistaken."

"He's not," Jimmy said, entering the home and taking a seat next to Sir Calador. The two were joined by the chubby boy, the pretty girl who looked like his sister, and the two Elvish youths that seemed to be inexplicably part of Sir Calador's entourage. The other Elves, including Trelvor's father—the one called Londril—appeared to lose interest in the overall situation and went about what Tyson assumed to be their usual business. Come to think of it, there was no longer anything keeping him captive—save for the island itself.

"Hey, uh, Zach?" Jimmy whispered nervously.

"What's up?"

"Things have been going much better with me and Tena lately, and uh…you aren't gonna snitch on me, are you?"

"Of course not," Sir Calador said. "I'm certainly not going to tell her what just happened. I'm actually embarrassed over it. I can't believe you did that, Jimmy."

"Look, man, nobody's perfect. But it's not you I'm worried about. It's you," Jimmy said to the chubby boy, who was clearly his rival for some reason. Tyson had no idea what was going on between the two, but there was certainly some animosity there. All of these kids had problems. He needed to get away from them. Except maybe Jimmy. Jimmy was cool.

The chubby boy pressed his fist playfully against Jimmy's chest. "I might bust your chops, but I wouldn't ruin your relationship. I would never rat out another guy."

"Thanks, Rian," he said. "I actually appreciate that."

Trelvor nodded, but the Elvish girl, Seiley, and the other pretty girl—was her name Lienne?—seemed to disapprove. "Tena puts up with so much," she said. "You're not treating her well."

"No, I am, that's the thing. I've finally started to really get to know her. I spent these past five days making up for a lot of my bullshit. I've been putting in the work. But then, like, I dunno, I came here looking to buy a gift for her while she's off visiting her aunt in Slopes of Dal'Zarrah, just something to surprise her, right? And uh…you know, while I was here and all by myself, I…I just wanted to have some fun."

"With drugs?" Seiley asked, her mouth twisting sourly.

"Okay, look. Where I come from, it's not that big a deal. It's really not."

Tyson cleared his throat. "Can I…visit where you're from?" he asked.

Jimmy burst out laughing. "I mean, not really."

"Why?"

"Well, because right now it's not really—"

"Actually you can," Sir Calador spoke up, cutting Jimmy off. "I'd be happy to show you where Jimmy's from."

"Really?" Tyson asked. Finally, he was getting somewhere. "This place where it's 'not such a big deal?'"

"Sure."

Jimmy rolled his eyes. "It's a trap, Tyson. I'm from another planet."

"Oh, wow. I see. Well then, in that case, I'll pass."

Sir Calador laughed. "Okay, let's get back on topic." He leaned forward again, his elbows on the table. "You said you're the biggest loser in the world, right? Why don't you want to change?"

Tyson shrugged. "Because I can't. I was born to be a fuckup. I just happen to have certain innate…preferences. I'm a simple man, Sir Calador. I just want to have sex and do drugs all day. Even if you were right about me, which you couldn't be, it still wouldn't matter, because I'm completely incapable of living up to any potential even if it did exist within me."

Sir Calador nodded. "Fine, then I'll ask you one more question, and this is the most important one of all. If you tell me the truth, I might even be able to let you go."

Eagerly, Tyson now himself leaned in closer. "Yes, please, go on."

"But you have to tell me the truth, all right? And if you're lying, I'll be pissed."

"Of course."

Sir Calador spoke slowly and softly, yet there was a strange power in his words as he phrased his question. "The reason you're not interested in changing…is it because you don't want to change, or you don't believe that you can?"

Tyson decided to tell the truth, as he didn't see the harm in it. "I don't believe I can."

Sir Calador snapped his fingers and smiled. "There we go! Well, that settles it."

"It does?" Tyson asked hopefully.

"Yup. It definitely does." He grinned. "I'm taking you adventuring."

"Wh-what?" Tyson shouted—then whimpered. "No, no, no. I meant the other answer."

"Too late."

"My life is over," he said, still whimpering. "This is it for me. I'm going to die with you unruly savages. Can you at least spare me one act of mercy? It is truly all I ask for."

"Act of mercy?"

"Yes. I beg of you, Sir Calador. I beg of you please. Can you do just one thing for me? Show me just one act of kindness?"

As he'd done earlier, Sir Calador softened. "Sure, what is it?"

"Can…can you get me and Jimmy some drugs?"

"No!" he replied immediately. And so too did the two girls and the Elvish boy, Trelvor. Several of them even slapped their palms down on the table as they shouted out the word "no" to him. Tyson started to cry again. And then he began to plead. And then he prepared to shout. But all of this stopped immediately as the Goddess herself entered the home. Yes, the Goddess. The true Goddess. If only he knew her name.

"Who…who is that?" he asked, wondering what such a marvelous creature could be named.

"Huh?" Sir Calador half stood up and looked over his shoulder. "Oh, that's Jascaila."

Jascaila, he thought. If ever such a beautiful thing could be said to exist, would it not be Jascaila? The woman was approaching. She was coming nearer.

Tyson immediately sat up straighter, wiped a bit of sweat off his face, dried his eyes—hopefully before she saw them—and then cleared his throat. Now, with a deeper voice, he announced, "I am Tyson Revel of the People of Virtue. Someday soon, as my father passes from his illness, I will lead my guild with a stoic, iron hand. Yes, Sir Calador. I shall join you in your brave and noble quests. For my blood is the blood of lions, and my heart beats to a rhythm of legacy."

Sir Calador scratched his head. "Yeah, okay. I mean an 'I'm in' would've been just as good."

"Scootch over, Zach," Jascaila said as she approached. Tyson's heart swelled with happiness as she chose to sit directly across from him. This was going well. Could it be that she noticed him as he noticed her? And now, the mutual noticing having taken place, it was here that she would confess to him that her eyes have been unable to look away? Her raspy, sexy voice, her thin and athletic—yet curvy—frame. She was a dream of his come to life.

"Hello," he said to her, standing upright in his chair so that he could fully bow. "I am Tyson Revel, second-in-command of the People of Virtue. May I please be given the unfathomable honor of knowing the name of such a lovely woman?"

"My name's Jascaila Iseldar," she said.

And just like that, his heart was broken. "Isel…dar?"

"Yep."

"Related to…?"

"He's my brother."

"Shit."

"Yep."

He sat back down. Suddenly, she seemed a little less beautiful. Only a fool would hit on that thug's sister. Still…

Who am I fooling? She is a Goddess.

And then she did something unexpected. She grabbed both his hands and squeezed them. She looked him directly in the eyes—in a way no one had ever looked at him before. And with no trace of lying, deception, and with such convincing authority, certainty, and understanding, she opened her mouth, and she said, "You're not worthless." Then she let him go, she got back up, and she walked out of the home.

And he was speechless. What did she even just do? What did she even just say? What was this pain in his chest? It wasn't love. It wasn't romantic. It was something internal. Now, he shed a tear, though he did so without whimpering. "Aren't I?" he whispered, the question aimed at no one and everyone.

Sir Calador and Jimmy glanced at one another, and then both lifted their eyebrows as though confused. He too was confused.

"You're going to come with us, all right?" Sir Calador said to him.

"Where are we going?"

"Dragon Squire."

Still caught in a state of stunned bewilderment, he could only nod. He didn't even bother to ask why or for what purpose. He simply agreed. Nothing could take him out of his current stupor. Nothing could snap him out of the bizarre yet enlightening trance that woman had put him in. Robotically, he said, "I'll call my pilot and have the jet pick us up."

"Oh, no, you don't have to do that," Sir Calador said to him. "We'll be taking the bus."

His hypnotic state was broken.

"The bus?" he shouted. "Like…like commoners?"

"Well, yeah."

He huffed. "At least let's take a limousine DEHV. My treat."

"Nope. We wanna take the bus," Rian said. "It's more fun."

He glanced around the home, though he was actually looking beyond it. "Are there even bus stops here?"

"Nope. We're going to swim to Shores of Wrath, hop through a few dungeons, and…well, you'll see."

He buried his head in his hands. This was going to be a nightmare.