No Points for Blood

By the time the fighting had settled enough to catch our breath, the sun was beginning to rise.

Around us lay an overturned wagon, three ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠surviving civilians brushing themselves off, and the dead — the ones Reika had cut down, and the ones I had killed. The last of them I had emptied an entire magazine into the face. It was pulp, a ragged hole punched through where features used to be.

The man who had dropped his weapon and crawled across the dirt. I had dumped a whole magazine into his skull.

It wasn't fear. It wasn't even anger, I don't think. My finger just wouldn't stop.

...Am I messed up...?

I glanced sideways. Reika was wiping down her sword. Same spot she had been standing in since it ended. She had seen the same thing I had — felt it too, surely — and she didn't say a word. As if this were just another morning.

I looked away, and the corpses found my eyes again anyway.

"Urgh—!"

Last night's bread came right back up.

"Tsk, tsk..."

Reika clicked her tongue, watching me heave.

"You've got the face of a two-hundred-year-old pointy-ear, and you don't know a damn thing. First time you've killed a man, is it?"

Two hundred, my ass. I was closer to twenty. And it wasn't the killing that got me — it was that the whole scene looked like a still from a gore movie. What Reika had done with her blade didn't even bear describing. The thought that I had made the hole in this man's head sent another wave of nausea rolling up.

"Bleh..."

I took a sip of water and tried to get my breathing under control.

"Maybe I overdid it... I didn't really need to go that far..."

"First time, a body can get worked up. That's normal."

"Hah..."

The comfort did absolutely nothing. Still, I decided to let it go. This was going to be a regular thing from now on.

I stared at it for a long time.

Forty-five points. The exact number I'd had left after hunting Growls yesterday — those shaggy, quill-backed wolf-beasts — and buying a magazine. Not a single point had gone up since.

Eight bandits dead. Four of them mine.

Didn't go up at all...

A giant millipede had been worth 20P a head. A fish, 15P. Four human beings: zero.

I didn't know why. Whether the system simply didn't count people, or whether it had decided from the start that humans weren't meant to be hunted. The math, though, was clear. I had emptied a magazine, bought another, and emptied that one too. I had lost 45P. I had earned nothing.

I'm in the red...

The moment I thought it, I felt sick. I was running a profit-and-loss on human lives.

"U-um..."

The voice came from beside the wagon a little ways off. Three people crept out, tentative as stray cats. A paunchy middle-aged man. A youth who looked maybe twenty. And a woman in a dress — his wife, by the look of it.

The middle-aged man took one look at us and dropped to his knees.

"Oh, thank you—thank you for saving our lives!"

"Ah... that's..."

"My name is Haim! I'm a merchant bound for Silberburt. This debt, I truly—"

"P-please, get up first..."

The young man came over, knelt, and bowed his head as well. Being thanked for killing people. The irony wasn't lost on me.

Beside me, Reika stood with her arms folded, looking thoroughly satisfied — as if she were collecting her due.

I managed to get the two of them up off their knees, still bobbing their heads, when a rustling started up behind me. I turned. Reika had flipped a corpse over and was rummaging through its belt.

"R-Reika?"

"What."

"What are you... doing?"

"Spoils."

"Huh? Wait, that's not what I—"

"Oh, there's good stuff over here!"

Haim trotted off toward another body, looking genuinely excited. The young man followed. The wife had already started rounding up the horses the bandits had ridden in on.

All three of them looked like they'd done this a hundred times. I was the only one who felt like a freak.

What the hell.

"Don't just stand there. The ones you killed are yours."

"Uh..."

I hesitated, then crouched down and reached into the pocket of the man I'd shot in the face.

"D-don't get up..."

A mutter, aimed at someone who wasn't going to. My hands were shaking. A few hours ago this man had been alive, and now I had my hand in his pocket.

A few coins came out. Cold to the touch. And strangely, the moment I closed my fist around that coldness, whatever had been choking me loosened a little.

I couldn't tell if that was a good thing or a bad one. So I stopped thinking and moved on to the next.

An hour later, I was staring at the pile of spoils with my eyes gone wide.

"How much is all this... worth?"

"Eight swords, one axe, two breastplates. Five horses."

Just the coins from the bandits' pockets came to twelve silver and thirty-seven copper. I had no idea what the weapons and armor would fetch, so I couldn't tally those. Yesterday my entire fortune had been one silver and five copper. Now my pockets were overflowing — I was going to need somewhere else to put it all.

"Miss, about those, if I may."

Haim cleared his throat beside me.

"Weapons and armor, you can take to the guild or a smithy and they'll give you a price. And those men have bounties on them... ah, but you're an elf. I'm telling you things you already know, aren't I."

No I don't. Keep talking.

The instant he registered that I was an elf, he cut himself off, as if his knowledge weren't worth reciting. Elves were long-lived, so of course they'd already know whatever a human merchant had to say — that was the idea. Elves surely had gaps in what they knew too, but that was the image of the race, and I wasn't about to ask him to keep going and get stared at for it.

Anyway, it means this stuff is worth money...

"How much would it come to? I'm not familiar with the going rates around here."

That much I could ask. Prices would differ from region to region, after all.

"If you're lucky, you might even see some gold out of it."

"Gold??"

"Miss... your eyes are shining rather a lot..."

"Ah— they're not. Ahem."

I privately scolded myself for looking so mercenary.

"These were nasty pieces of work. They've been working this stretch for a while — their faces are posted all over. That's why we hired a mercenary with a good reputation, but..."

Haim leaned against the wagon wheel, looking at the stabbed man lying there. The first one to die, I realized. That would have been the mercenary they'd hired.

"But thanks to the two of you, we're alive. Are you headed to the city? If we share the road, we'll give you a ride. We ought to repay you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠somehow."

One wagon was down, but the other was intact, and the bandits' ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠horses had added to the count.

Fixing the wheel took half a day. Haim and the young man did the actual repairs. Reika lifted the wagon — I hadn't known she was that strong — and I stood off to the side handing them tools. I didn't even know the names of the things. I had to ask.

"The... pointy one?"

"Right, let's be off. I'd rather not still be out here when the sun goes down and more of those types come looking. We've still got a few days' travel, but we'd best put some safer ground behind us, at least."

Haim's wife and I climbed into the wagon he was driving. The young man and Reika mounted up on the extra horses, and we started moving.

Sitting in a rattling wagon was a hundred times better than walking.

"How long will it take, exactly?"

"About three days, I'd say."

If we'd run into them sooner, we could've ridden the whole way. I folded that shameless thought up and put it away.

"By the way, you two — you mustn't take that old road. Those types have been multiplying lately."

"There weren't any before?"

"There were some, yes. But they've exploded in the last six months."

"Why?"

"The Pelzburg soldiers stopped patrolling the old road."

Haim clicked his tongue.

"His Lordship's gone blind chasing Empire trade, you see. He's piled all his soldiers at the gates and left the old road to fend for itself."

"Empire trade?"

"...I don't mean anything by it, looking at your ears, but."

He lowered his voice a little.

"You'll know the Empire buys and sells demi-humans. And Pelzburg sits right on that route. Those bandits are likely snatching demi-humans to sell — and the lord's looking the other way."

So what Reika had said wasn't just a rumor.

"What kind of place is Silberburt?"

The city we were actually heading for. I wanted whatever information I could get.

"It's a good city. A river running through, goods moving both ways — packed with people. Beastkin, elves, dwarves, all of them."

"Ah... they don't buy and sell people there, do they? The, um..."

"In a merchant city, if you started picking at a customer's ears, you'd starve."

That was the best thing I'd heard all day.

"There's a proper Adventurer's Guild branch, too. No comparison to a consignment office. They handle all sorts of business, so even people who aren't adventurers stop in plenty."

"The truth is... I need to register. I couldn't do it at the consignment office..."

"A consignment office should be able to register you, though... ah. You came from ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Dorn, so that would explain it. An elf without an adventurer registration — that's a first for me."

Do all elves become adventurers?

I couldn't tell what had prompted him to say that. Maybe elves just lived so long that they'd all registered as adventurers at least once. I didn't have an answer. But it seemed I wasn't going to be able to completely hide how out of place I was in this world.

"By the way, um... how much is a silver coin worth, exactly?"

Haim's eyes went wide.

"...I beg your pardon?"

"Ah, well, I've come from rather far away. I'm not familiar with the prices here, you see."

I figured if I kept it vague, he wouldn't press me on where, exactly.

"One silver would cover a meal at a decent restaurant in Silberburt. At a rundown tavern, you could eat all day on it."

So about the cost of eating out at a restaurant...

I zoned out for a moment, converting the prices into what I knew from home.

"Still, miss, where have you actually come from? In all my years, this is the first time I've sat here reciting my meager knowledge in front of an elf. From Elinium, perhaps?"

"Ah... no, it's just... rather far, is all..."

Another place name I didn't know. Asking about this one too would definitely get me looked at funny, so I shut my mouth.

As the sun began to sink, I opened the Gun Shop again from the back of the wagon.

Still forty-five. I had thirteen silvers in my pocket — more than ten times yesterday's fortune — and I still couldn't buy a single magazine with it.

This system is so inconvenient.

I looked at the empty gun, and in the end I spent every last one of those 45P on a magazine and loaded it.

Compared to the thousands of points I'd had a few days ago, it was a bitterly small number.

Whether the horse knew how I felt or not, it snorted, flicked its muzzle, and kept pulling the wagon on.