CHAPTER 4: A HEAD FOR PEACE

"You sure about this? Ubuians don't often get good jobs. You're skilled and speak our language well, but people like you usually end up in the army or nowhere at all."

"It's fine. I'll manage," I replied, handing him the paper. hy am I even doing this? I guess it's because I need to distance myself from the army—joining it is something I regret daily.I want a life with Arlene in heaven, but I also need to escape the nightmares of what I did. Arlene's gone, and I can't keep dwelling on the past. The heavens gave me a second chance, and I want to live it without the shadow of my mistakes. A modest life seems like the right path."Alright then…" He accepted the papers as I left the decaying building behind. The sun was harsh, but the breeze was cool. With each step I took, I felt a little further from my past and a little closer to a new beginning—one with a fresh job and a new place to call home.

 "Nope."

"Sorry, we don't serve Ubuians here."

"No Ubuians."

"You're Ubuian? Apologies, but you can't be here."

"No."

"Nah, we're not hiring."

"We're full."

"No Ubuians, I'm afraid."

 I stood outside the final inn, a somewhat decent establishment with three stories and oak wood that looked better than most. The sign outside, reading "Innsbruker," was dimly illuminated by a flickering bulb, casting a faint glow into the dark night.

The moon's light played on the cobblestone streets, creating dancing shadows that shifted with the breeze. Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself and walked in.

Inside, an empty room greeted me. The bar was operated by an old man with slightly tanned skin and a mane of white hair. His features—sharp nose, thin lips, and a thick white beard—were familiar, reminding me of my own rough appearance. His hair was tied neatly in a ponytail as he polished a glass of wine.

"How may I help you today?" he asked, his voice gruff but polite.

"Is this an inn? I'd like a room," I replied, hoping for a place to rest.

"Oh, sorry. This is actually a bar. Could I interest you in a drink?"

I glanced around the empty bar. Despite its solitude, it was impeccably clean—no dust danced in the moonlight that streamed through the windows. The tables were neatly aligned, and the chairs were flipped upside down upon them.

"Best you've got," I said, setting my bag down on a chair before the counter and sitting.

"It seems you couldn't find a room?" he asked, mixing a drink with an array of unfamiliar liquids.

"Yeah," I sighed, the sound echoing in the quiet room. The clink and swirl of his movements filled the space as he prepared the drink. Finally, he placed a glass before me, filled with a strangely luminous red liquid.

"A Crimson Peace, for a fellow Ubuian," he said, with a nod.

I took a sip, and the drink fizzed on my tongue, a sour tang tickling the back of my throat. I looked at him, curiosity piqued. "How did you end up here, sir?"

"I was rather high-ranked in the army. Saved up enough and decided to run this place," he said with a smile. Wrinkles formed at the corners of his eyes, giving him a kind, weathered look.

"Do you get many customers?" I asked, glancing around the desolate bar.

"Do I look like I get customers?" he chuckled softly. "It's been a dream of mine. I never intended to make money from it."

A silence fell over the tranquil bar. I surveyed the cosy, dimly lit room, the few lamps glowing warmly around the staircase.

"…Could I stay here for the night?"

"You're quite unlucky, boy," he said, placing the last bottle of alcohol on the counter. "It's my final operating day."He grabbed his bag and a carton box, preparing to leave. "I know it's hard, but the world is unforgiving." His smile was warm, filled with a sense of familiarity and relatability that comforted me in this foreign place.

He pushed the bottle toward me and slung his bag over his shoulder.

"I'll be on my way now, fellow Ubuian. The next owner won't be here until morning. Thanks for keeping me company on my last night…" Before closing the door, he turned back to me solemnly. "Don't believe anything in this world."

As he left, silence returned, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I pulled out the blue window interface, which flickered to life with boxes and notifications. A particular box with a question mark caught my eye. When I hovered over it, another window appeared:

We present you with a mysterious item for your valiant efforts in the hard-fought war. Note that the number of lives you've taken during the war will affect the reward quality.

OPEN

What, so I have to kill more to get better rewards? That's ridiculous. Whatever, I don't intend on entering another war anyway. Clicking the open button, a brilliant flash illuminated the room, making me shield my eyes.

When the light faded, I found myself holding…a quill. I stared at it in disbelief. The next thing that caught my eye was a blinking icon of a human silhouette. As I hovered my finger over the screen, a massive stats interface exploded into view, accompanied by a bunch of notifications shouting that I'd leveled up. I swiped them away with frustration, trying to focus on the main stats window.

Name: Matthijs Geiger

Class: -

lvlⓘ: 4

Experience: 87,500 / 100,000

Health: 843 / 1200

Mana: 300/300

Stamina: 240/850

Attributes:

- Strength: 95

- Dexterity: 88

- Constitution: 135

- Intelligence: 150

- Wisdom: 100

- Charisma: 50

- Resolve: 170

Skills:

- Rune Crafting: Level 0

High Intelligence? Really? That's a laugh. My life has been a series of blunders and explosions, not exactly a showcase of smarts. And Level 4? I must've missed the fine print on that one.A small "More Information" icon appeared, and despite my better judgment, I tapped it. Of course, another popup immediately popped up—these things just wouldn't quit.

Lifetime Violence Log:

141 Human lives taken

48 Rihiki lives taken

Total Level: 4 

A "Lifetime Violence Log"? Seriously? This was beyond ridiculous.I looked at the numbers. Fantastic, now my past is being documented like a highlight reel.I shook my head, "141 human lives?"That's a lot more serious than I intended. And 48 Rihiki? I swear it wasn't even that much. It's like my life had become one long, grim account of every poor decision I'd made.

I swiped away the windows, hoping they'd stay gone this time. The quill in my hand turned into pixelated dust and vanished. I sighed, glancing around for any sign of the everyday life I desperately wanted.

"For now, I'd settle for not being bombarded by more popups," I grumbled, taking another gulp from the bottle. My vision blurred, and darkness began to creep in. I hoped this was all just a dream as I let myself sink into the oblivion of sleep.

. . . 

"WAKE UP!" I jolted upright, disoriented, staring at the familiar shelves and the empty bottle that had become my nightly companion.I turned to my side, and, of course, there she was again—The Arlene look-a-like.

"Ubuian, get out now!"

She was practically pushing me out.

"My dad's coming, and he really doesn't like you guys!" I squinted around the room, hoping my pounding headache would take the hint and disappear. The sound of dragging wood filled the air as she shoved me toward the window.

"GO!" she urged, looking more panicked by the second.

"No! No! I don't want to die!" I protested, my vision spinning in what felt like a bad carnival ride. The floor below seemed to stretch out in slow motion, expanding and elongating as if I were falling down a never-ending tube of toothpaste. Each second felt like an hour as I plummeted through what appeared to be a dizzying vortex of my own making.

"AH!!!" I screamed as she gave me a final shove, sending me over the edge. I tumbled through the abyss of time and space before finally landing with a somewhat anticlimactic thud on a trash bag.

"Shush you! Be quiet!" She whispered as she glanced back inside the building, "Run!"

Boom

The window slammed shut less than a meter above my head. 

Damn. That was embarrassing. 

I stood up and tried to steady myself as the world slowly came back into focus. I turned to the side and saw the narrow alley opening, revealing a sliver of light cutting through the darkness.

Beyond it, the street was alive with activity. The air was filled with shouts of vendors advertising their goods and the hum of lively conversations, creating a vibrant, festive atmosphere.

As the crowd passed by, I cautiously peeked my head out. The street stretched out further, lined with tents and carts selling unfamiliar fruits and vegetables in a well-organized display. The bustling crowd moved in a chaotic yet orderly fashion, packed tightly like sardines. The hot sun blazed down, momentarily blinding me.

Looking up, my eyes widened in shock. A familiar face was hanging from a wooden frame, its intestines draped around its head and swinging in the breeze. The sight was made even more grotesque by the stains of tomato, spit, and other unspeakable substances that marred the already horrifying scene. I realized with a pang of regret that I had never even told him how good the drink was.

Panicked, I dashed back into the alley. The shadows of people's feet danced across the walls, casting a grim reflection of this world's harsh reality.