Boy Who Cried Ogres (2)

He had never thought that something good would come out of drinking—both of his grandparents reacted negatively to it when they first discovered he had stumbled upon some Professor's bottle of wine during a small party.

His grandmother thought it was unsightly and unhealthy.

His grandfather said it ruined one's capacity to control themself.

But finally, drinking gave him a Skill that seemed too good to be true at a mere Level 3 in Drinker class. It was almost something that made him laugh aloud at the madness of life and all—in the hands of only a Drinker. Then they would have drunk themself until they saw stars, whirls and other machinations of their mind.

Owen Liddell on the other hand had furiously pulled out his own notebook and scribbled furiously on it. All the effects of the headache were gone, or it didn't bother him when there was a discovery to be written down!

Secrets to a Class.

Most of the information available to take advantage of one's Class was held on by the Nobility and Royalty, and perhaps those who gained favor with the King. Owen Liddell classified them as such—

Influencers

Arcane Arts

Warriors

Workers

Useless

The person who held an Influencer-type of Class held the social control over large groups of people and while they could still get stabbed, most of Nobility often falling for sabotage and assassination attempts—unless you were a Warrior King, or had a really good Bodyguard, then their form of power was soft control.

Arcane Arts were obviously the ones with a natural propensity for magic, well-loved for their abilities, and Warriors were the trusted men to tackle on the jobs of defeating monsters and such.

Workers held an important job, taking care of the needs of a kingdom, nation or even continent—growing food, making clothing and ensuring that the people could actually hold decent lives. If one was high-leveled enough, there was a chance that a single Farmer could save a dying Kingdom from famine.

Then there were the Useless classes. Now it wasn't like people taught about it, but there were always Classes that didn't seem important, but some people still got them. His Drinker Class was a good example.

"But hah! Imagine this—" He couldn't get the numbers correctly yet, but as far as he noticed, one drop of a healing potion was enough for him to heal a minor wound. Not impressive, he knew… but he counted it and it healed instantaneously even when he had gotten his hands on a lower-grade healing potion.

This was courtesy of buying one at Alchemist Mossblossom's store—she accepted money like any Alchemist. Yes, crazy as some might be with all the ingredients and fumes getting through their heads. Gold spoke and made one look like a master Negotiator.

He thought that he almost saw a patch of fur when she threw out a bottle, but he had been happy enough to document.

When one was thrust into a dance of life and death, one couldn't afford even a few seconds of time to make a healing potion work. Either it was instantaneous or one died with a pickaxe sticking out through one's chest.

It was actually a story about two Dwarven Miners that had struck gold and the other killed his brother to have it all for himself… failing to realize it was only fool's gold. Pyrite.

That was actually a stupid story that his mother or grandmother told him when he was young? He didn't care about it and simply sat underneath the shade of the tree, completely at ease.

Until he saw Tobias walk past him, satchel once again strapped on him as he carried a lot of herbs and even wolf dung once again. "Alchemist Mossblossom—"

"Leave it outside my door, I'll take it." The exchange only took quick moments of the door opening along with a quick grab of the items and then even giving Tobias some pieces of copper and what looked like to be a silver—

"Do you have a problem, city boy?"

Owen Liddell raised a brow. "Er, I don't want to be rude, but is that how much you're getting—"

"Why, it is rude to look into another man's income!" Tobias shoved the coins down into his pocket. Sent him another glare and stomped away.

Until Owen sighed and called out, "Hey you jerk. Do you at least have a weapon when you go to the forest?"

"What—"

A dagger nearly scratched Tobias' ear as it landed a couple of feet away from him. The man quickly spun around and raised a fist. "If you have problems with me—then do it with a fist fight! I don't need any of those fancy knife tricks of yours."

Owen might have gone a little bit too far, but the man slunked up to his feet and grinned. It wasn't real, but it wasn't exactly fake either… challenging might have been the appropriate word. "If I had problems with you, then that dagger of mine wouldn't have missed… village boy."

He needed to work at his insults better.

But whatever the case, it still worked like a charm as Tobias charged at him. Owen only side-stepped at the last moment and watched the young man hit his head against the tree. He wrinkled his nose. "Are you some kind of Minotaur who doesn't know how to swerve—"

Tobias attacked him with a strong punch in the abdomen.

Owen doubled over for a moment and then caught the guy from hitting him again with another fist. "Ugh, what do you have [ Lesser Strength ]?"

"Actually, I do," Tobias said with a hint of pride in his voice.

It didn't matter, as long as it distracted him long enough—Owen kicked him in the ankle. Tobias staggered as he backed away and grunted. "Impressive, I suppose, are you supposed to be some Farmer's boy?"

Warriors weren't the only ones who received strength-boosting Skills. Farmers did too. A lot of them actually, so it made a lot of sense on why farmhands often grew up to be Heroes… at least that was how the story went.

"I'm a Hunter—and this is why I don't have to worry about getting attacked or anything like that. We don't need any boys yappering about ogres when it's only goblins we have to worry about." Tobias glared at him, still unwilling to accept the fact that Owen told his mother and the rest of the people in the inn that he had actually died.

"Well then, explain to me how you got caught up so late at night in the forest?" Owen raised a brow. "Hunter or not, it's a lot more dangerous at night unless you also have an [ Owl's Eyes ] Skill or something."

"... just some stupid tree."

"A what?" Owen raised a brow. Almost unsure if he heard correctly… did he have to worry about evil Druids now too? Or some Witch in the forest brewing up mischief?

"I fell asleep at a cove of trees, some sleeping powder dust in the air or something."

He didn't need any more explanations, Owen looked the Hunter in the eye and said. "Take me there."

"Are you insane?"