Dimension Beta

As Tom entered the shop, the bell above the door chimed, announcing his arrival. As he walked up to the counter, he heard Mr. Pech's usual sales pitch, "Welcome, welcome to my humble little... oh, it's you." His tone shifted instantly. "What do you want?" he asked flatly.

From the old man's tone, Tom realized that the drunkards outside hadn't been lying when they said it was pointless to ask for his money back. So, instead, he tried a different approach.

"Mr. Pech… is there another quest you could issue me?" he asked, his voice a bit nervous.

Hearing the question, Pech's face twisted in slight irritation. Above his head, Tom could see a "-5 Favorability" rating flash briefly. Pech hadn't expected the boy to have the guts to ask for another quest. But an idea formed in his mind. He glanced over at the usual group of drunks sitting outside the tavern across the street. Grabbing a piece of paper, he quickly scrawled something down. With a smile that Tom couldn't quite read, he handed the boy a new quest and ushered him out.

Before Tom even knew what had happened, he found himself standing outside the shop once more, the door closing behind him. A vague sense of déjà vu crept over him as he looked down at the slip of paper in his hand. His quest log updated at that exact moment:

New Quest: [Mr. Pech's Subsidiary Quest]

Go to the bar across from Pech's shop, start a brawl, and emerge as the winner.

Quest Reward 1 – 100 Favorability

Quest Reward 2 – 1000 Experience Points

Reading the details, Tom wasn't sure if this quest was better or worse than the previous one. But at least he could attempt this one without upsetting his mom.

He logged out of Beta and grabbed his phone. The first thing he typed into Doogle was: How to start a bar fight.

...

Meanwhile, Pech was busy restocking his potions. The low-level, tier-50 potions were no issue for him, given his stockpile of dried ingredients. Sure, they'd lost a bit of their potency over time, but he didn't care as he had amassed plenty of them.

Out of a massive cauldron, he filled about 500 vials. After drawing the first 100, he topped off the cauldron with water to stretch it to another 100 vials. Some would call it a scam, but Pech couldn't care less. If his customers had a problem with his goods, they were free to shop elsewhere.

"Master, was it really wise to give that boy this quest?" Marien asked. "What if he ends up getting implicated in a crime?"

"So what? No one forced him to take the quest. If a murderer gave you a quest to kill someone, would you do it just because it was in the quest log?" Pech replied. "He can take it as a free lesson."

"And hey, if he actually manages to complete it, he'll get enough experience to hit Level 10 straight away. So don't act like I'm some heartless villain," he added, feigning offense.

Marien only looked at him, expressionless as always. Considering that Marien only acted on Pech's commands, it was almost like he was talking to himself.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and dusk began to settle over the city. Pech sighed as he sat by the counter. "Not a single customer," he muttered as he closed up shop.

Stepping outside, he spotted Tom making his way toward the tavern across the street. A smirk spread across his face as he let out a chuckle.

"Looks like we're in for a show tonight, Marien. Go brew some tea. This is going to be fun to watch."

…

Tom made his way into the bar across the street. The place was packed, and he had to elbow through the crowd just to get in. Suddenly, he found himself face-to-face with a massive guy.

"Hey, kid, ain't you a bit young to be in here?" the guy grunted.

The man had a long scar slashed across his face and was shirtless, his biceps about as big as Tom's head. His scowl was enough to make Tom's stomach twist. Tom did the only thing he could think of and lied: "I-I'm looking for my dad… my mom wants me to tell him to come home…"

"Oh yeah? That's the story, huh?"

"Uh… yeah…"

"Well then, let's get everyone's attention." The man stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled loud enough to shut down the whole bar. All eyes turned as he grabbed Tom by the collar, hoisting him in the air so everyone could see. "Hey, listen up, you drunk idiots! Anyone claim this little brat?"

Silence.

Everyone in the bar stared, but not a soul spoke up.

"Looks like your dad's not here," he muttered, setting Tom back down.

The noise of the bar picked up again, and Tom's face went red with embarrassment. He stared at the floor, hoping no one would notice.

Suddenly, someone nearby yelled out, "Hey, kid!"

Tom looked up and spotted the same drunks who'd warned him earlier about trying to get his money back from Pech. He headed toward them, the massive man following him closely.

"Does this little one belong to you, Dicksen?" the guy asked with a scowl.

"Guess you could say that," Dicksen chuckled.

"Keep an eye on your kid, then. This place ain't for young'uns."

Without waiting for an answer, the big guy turned and walked off. The guys at the table started laughing, poking fun at Dicksen.

"Hey, Dick, didn't know you had a kid! And such a puny one! What were you, still in diapers when you made him?" one of them jeered, and the whole table burst out laughing, even Dicksen.

Dicksen dragged a stool over and motioned for Tom to sit down. "So, kid, what're you doing here? And don't feed me that crap about looking for 'dear old dad,'" he laughed, and the rest joined in, making Tom's face burn even redder.

"Here, take a sip," Dicksen said, shoving his mug over to Tom.

Tom hesitated. He was underage, but he'd always wondered what alcohol tasted like.

Dicksen hadn't expected him to take it seriously, so he was shocked when Tom lifted the mug and took three big gulps.

"Whoa there, kid, you nuts?" Dicksen said, yanking the mug back.

Tom coughed, sputtering, the taste was bitter and disgusting. He felt a little woozy, his face going even redder than before.

"Like father, like son!" one of the others howled, and the table erupted in laughter.

Dicksen leaned back. "So what are you really doing here?" He didn't offer him any more to drink, clearly worried the kid might actually try it again.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was just the pressure, but Tom ended up spilling everything, including why he'd come to the bar in the first place. The guys listened, nodding sympathetically. They'd all been young once, chasing dreams just like he was.

Dicksen stood up on his barstool, stomped his boot on the table, and downed a mug of ale in one go. With a wild grin, he raised his voice to the rest of the table. "You heard him, boys! Let's help the kid get his brawl!"

A party invite popped up in front of Tom, and before he could even react, Dicksen was yelling across the bar.

"Hey, Dunken, you overstuffed Donut! I've had to look at your ugly face all night, but no wait, scratch that, it's just your fat ass hanging out of your pants!" His buddies broke into laughter, pounding on the table.

Through the noise, Dunken,a hulking man, caught the insult and spun around, face twisted in anger. "You dumb, two-bit drunk! You looking to start something?"

"Start something? I don't think you'd even understand if I did, with that walnut sized brain of yours!"

Dunken's fists clenched, and the bar went dead silent.

He looked like he might back down, muttering, "You're lucky…"

Then, out of nowhere, a bottle smashed over his head, drenching him in beer and glass shards. He turned and saw Dicksen with another bottle in hand, ready to throw it.

"You asked for it! Get 'em, boys!"

The whole bar erupted. Fists flew as everyone dove into the brawl. Tom quickly accepted the party invite and ducked under the nearest table, squeezing his eyes shut and bracing himself. Suddenly, a rush of wind went by as the table he'd been hiding under flew across the room.

Tom scurried to a corner to catch his breath, but a chair suddenly came hurtling toward him. Knowing he couldn't dodge, he crossed his arms to shield himself. The impact was brutal, and his health bar dropped from 100/100 to 50/100. His arms stung from the blow.

Before he could catch his breath, he saw a massive shadow moving fast toward him. He ducked just in time, watching as the wall next to him shattered. Glancing up, he realized it was Dunken, who'd apparently been thrown by Dicksen.

Tom tried to keep his head down, but then he noticed one of Dicksen's friends was in trouble. The other guy had pulled a knife, and Dicksen's friend hadn't seen it. Acting on impulse, Tom grabbed a bottle off the floor and ran at them.

He dodged two people who went flying past, his small size making it easy. Using an overturned barrel as a boost, he launched himself at the two men, swinging the bottle down as hard as he could.

He didn't do much damage, but he got a "0.5-second Stun" pop-up over the guy's head, giving Dicksen's friend just enough time to land a solid roundhouse kick to the guy's chin.

"Not bad, kid," the friend said, already turning to take on the next guy.

Tom exhaled, feeling relieved, but then a guttural roar cut through the noise, making his skin crawl. In the center of the bar, the scarred giant from earlier was laying people out left and right.

Tom had no clue whose side he was on, but the guy's sheer size and rage were terrifying.

The giant's skin started turning a faint red, and he grew even bigger, close to four meters tall. Like a human wrecking ball, he cleared the middle of the tavern. At one point, he ripped a support beam straight out of the floor and swung it like a club. Within minutes, anyone not in Dicksen's or Dunken's crew was either out cold or had bolted out the door.

Eventually, even Dicksen and Dunken stopped fighting, realizing they were outmatched.

"Dicksen, Dunken, you dumbasses! Look at what you've done to my bar!" the giant bellowed, clearly pissed off.

Dunken tried to defend himself. "Hey, it wasn't even…"

"Shut up!" the giant snapped. "You're both paying for the damage! And, like usual, you're banned for a week!"

"Tch…" Dicksen muttered under his breath.

The giant's eyes narrowed. He was definitely not amused.

Dicksen just started whistling, pretending he hadn't said anything.

Both groups were put to work cleaning up the mess. Even Tom pitched in, though his small build meant he could only handle the lighter stuff scattered around.

Once they'd finished, they all headed toward the exit. Just as Tom was about to slip out, the giant called out, "Hey, boy! You're staying here."

Tom froze, his blood running cold. Dicksen looked like he was about to speak up, but the giant's glare silenced him instantly.

"My condolences…" Dicksen muttered with a half-smile before slipping out, leaving Tom alone with the giant. The door clicked shut, and Tom was left standing, all alone with the towering figure.