The house of the mission was easy to find.
A crooked hut, with a broken fence, and white feathers scattered like confetti. The owner was an old woman, wrinkled, with a floral scarf on her head and a gaze sharper than a butcher's knife.
"Another adventurer? Tsk. Those damn things ran off again."
She didn't smile.
"If you bring them all back, I'll pay. No missing feathers."
He nodded with the slightest movement.
Clear objective. Simple variable.
The chickens didn't cooperate.He spent most of the morning chasing flying feathers, slipping in mud, getting pecked.One even flew at his face, scratching his cheek.
Aggressive AI. Consistent with design. But annoying.
He caught them one by one, holding them tightly enough not to kill them, but with no gentleness.
I'm not here to be nice. I'm here to complete the contract.
When he finally tied them back inside the pen, the old woman counted them with suspicious eyes.
"One, two, three, four…" she muttered. "All of them."
She tossed him a small bag of coins.
"Don't think I owe you any gratitude."
Gratitude pays nothing.
He returned to the guild.Handed in the receipt.The woman snorted.
"Already?"
He didn't answer.She checked it and stamped a paper.
"Here. Reward."
More coins.He watched the shine. Weighed them in his hand.
More than the game used to give. XP was the real prize there. Here… seems more monetized.
He rolled the coins in his palm, listening to the metallic clink.
Important difference. Real-world priority. Survival. Market.
He repeated the quest.Twice.Three times.By the fourth, the old woman greeted him with a resigned grunt.
"You again."
He just nodded.
Farmable. Same money return. But no visible XP.
He mentally called up his status after four rounds.
[Status]
[Name: Eren Vale]
[Level: 1]
[Class: Beast Tamer (Class E)]
[HP: 132 / 132]
[MP: 44 / 44]
[Strength: 7]
[Agility: 8]
[Vitality: 9]
[Intelligence: 11]
[Monster Mastery: 1]
Approximate 10% growth. Not in level, but raw attributes.
He closed the window.
In the game, starting quests were for leveling. Here, they strengthen the base. A fundamental detail.
He gathered the coins—counted them one by one.Enough to buy basic equipment. Or invest.
I'll invest.
────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────
The "Monster Shop" was in a dark building, with crooked signs nailed over the windows. A sour, damp smell leaked through the cracks.A bell jingled as he pushed the door open.
The seller was a thin man with glassy eyes, wearing a stained apron.
"Buying or selling?"
Eren didn't waste time.
"Buying."
The man's cracked lips tightened.
"What's the budget?"
Eren opened his pouch and showed the coins.The man let out a low laugh.
"This pocket change won't buy anything with teeth."
Eren raised an eyebrow.
"I want the cheapest thing you've got."
The man made a lazy gesture toward the corner of the shop. There were cages. Many. Guttural sounds. Moans. Scratching. But one of them held something almost… pathetic.
A slime. The creature quivered in a dull green, pulsing slowly like unset jelly. No face. No sound. No charm.
The seller laughed.
"That one? Basic slime. Does nothing. Just exists."
"Price."
The man spat on the floor.
"Ten coins."
Eren pulled out the coins without blinking.
"Five."
"Ten."
"Seven."
The man narrowed his eyes.
"Nine."
"Six."
The seller huffed.
"Eight or nothing."
Eren calculated the weight of his pouch.
Still leaves reserve for contract or supplies.
He nodded.
"Eight."
The man opened the cage with a snap.
"Your problem now."
The slime slithered out with a disgusting sound, landing at Eren's feet. He crouched down. Touched the cold mass.
Minimal response. No attack. No escape.
He evaluated.
Simple control. But no bond.
He tried issuing a mental command.Nothing.
Checked [Status].
[Status]
[Monster: Slime]
[Bond: None]
[Affinity: Zero]
In the game this was automatic. Here it isn't. That's bad, means I just made a poor purchase. This could negatively impact my game.
He looked up at the seller.
"How do you make a contract?"
The man scratched his chin.
"Runes. Deeds. Blood ritual. I don't know. I don't ask. I just sell."
Eren took a deep breath.
Costly process.
He eyed the remaining coins. Few.
No budget for rune or ritual. No resources.
The slime extended a cold pseudopod to lick his boot.Eren didn't move.
Useless. Maybe resellable.
He stood up.
Plan B.
Adjusted the pouch, looked at the slime dragging itself along.
If I can't use it, I can sell it.
He walked out of the shop calmly, the slime's squelchy sound following on the wooden floor.
schlop… schlop…
He didn't look back.
No contract, but it follows me. Minimal imprinting algorithm. Not loyal, but it doesn't flee.
The cold morning wind whipped his face. He adjusted his hood, pulling it further forward, and kept walking.
Selling it is priority. Maybe I should've gathered more information before making a purchase. I can't feed it. I can't command it.
The first stop was another monster shop.The sign hung crooked, letters nearly unreadable.Inside, a dwarf vendor chewed on something that smelled awful, spitting on the floor without ceremony.
Eren pointed.
"Slime. Selling."
The dwarf eyed the thing with disgust.
"This shit? I'll pay two coins."
Eren raised an eyebrow.
"Costs eight to buy."
"And who says I want to buy it?" The dwarf laughed, spitting again. "Nobody pays to have that slime."
Eren took a deep breath.
Negotiation over.
He turned his back without explaining.The slime dragged behind him, slow but determined. When Eren left the second shop and stopped in a side alley to think, the slime followed, leaving a wet trail on the ground. It bumped into a pile of trash—old leaves, hardened mud, even a bit of dried manure.
Eren frowned.
A pseudopod extended and began wrapping around the garbage, slowly engulfing everything. Its edges shimmered a darker green, then returned to normal. On the ground, there was only a damp stain—clean.
Eren lowered his chin slightly, watching.
It absorbs. Digests waste. And the result…
He lightly kicked the ground. No fragments. No dry mud.
Clean.
The slime vibrated, making a wet, almost satisfied sound.
Eren drew a slow breath.
Not a weapon. Not a combat pet. But it's a product.
He let his eyes roam over the filthy alley—old crates, dark water puddles, mold.
Cleaning service. Adaptable shape. Low maintenance cost. Can enter crevices. Absorb fluids. It's basically a living sponge.
A faint, clinical smile appeared on his face.
It's a sales pitch.
He straightened up, adjusting the old tunic on his shoulder.
Pitch: 'Cleans bodily fluids without complaint, survives on trash, low cost.
He looked at the slime, which seemed happy after eating the garbage.
From here on, I'm not selling a monster. I'm selling a cleaning product.
He pivoted on his heel.
"Come on."
The slime let out a pleased schlop and followed, more eagerly.Eren was already calculating the minimum price, the pitch, the target customer.
Next stop.
An improvised stall with cages stacked up. A skinny vendor with hollow eyes.
"You buy monsters?"
The man looked at the slime, wrinkling his nose.
"Slime? Not even for free. Takes up space. Doesn't eat anything, doesn't attack anything."
"Need cleaning?"
"I shit in a bucket, friend. Cheaper."
Eren kept his gaze steady.
Only useful as a joke.
He turned and left. The slime followed.
schlop… schlop…
He walked through the village center, dodging carts, children, staggering drunks. He looked at the gray sky, estimating the time.
I don't have much time before it gets dark. Low resale price. Zero demand.
He looked at the slime. The creature formed a hesitant pseudopod, poking at his boot. Eren sighed.
Loyalty script? AI glitch? Or a remnant of domestication?
He pivoted, scanning the street. And he saw something. The wooden sign swayed lazily in the wind: Two Moons Brothel. The carving was lascivious—a human woman and a horned creature embracing.
Eren frowned.
A sale. Or better yet, a deposit.
He entered as if it were any old tavern. The smell hit him immediately: cheap alcohol, cheap perfume, even cheaper sweat.
Laughter was loud. Some moans too. This place was a bit more discreet, since Eren couldn't see the obscene acts happening right in front of him. At the counter, a fat man in a filthy apron was polishing a cracked glass with an even dirtier rag.
"Drinking or fucking?" he asked without looking.
"Selling."
The man raised his eyes, bored.
"Huh?"
Eren pointed down. The slime rolled in, stopping by his leg. The man leaned over.
"Ahaha! A slime? Trying to dump that on me?"
"Cleaning use. Adaptable shape. Good for picking up trash from the floor."
The man frowned.
"Hmmm…"
Eren continued, coldly:
"Doesn't need expensive food. Survives on scraps. Can get into crevices. Cleans bodily fluids."
The man scratched his chin.
"Good pitch, kid."
He kicked another worker behind the counter.
"Hey! Go test this shit on the floor."
The assistant dragged the slime to a corner. Threw a bucket of dirty water onto the floor. The slime slid into the puddle and began slowly absorbing the filth, trembling in a curious way.The assistant returned.
"Cleaned even the corners."
The man behind the counter whistled.
"Ahaha! Nice! I'll give you five coins."
Eren didn't answer immediately.
Price well below market. But already higher than what anyone else offered.
He looked at the slime. The creature trembled, extending a pseudopod. The assistant shoved it with his foot.
"You're staying here, you blob."
The slime recoiled, stretching back toward Eren. It tried to crawl to him, even without a contract.
Eren's eyes shone coldly.
It doesn't want to stay.
The man behind the counter snapped his fingers.
"Well? You selling or not? I need my floor cleaned or what?"
Eren took a deep breath. He didn't answer immediately. He looked at the slime quivering, making a wet, anxious sound. Then looked at the man behind the counter.
Five coins. Immediate value. Total liquidity.
He closed his eyes for a moment, calculating mentally.
Purchase price: eight coins. Resale price now: five. Direct loss: three coins.
He opened his eyes again.
Negative economy. Absolute loss sale. No ROI.
He watched the slime cleaning the floor without instructions.
Service potential already demonstrated. If trained, improves efficiency. If bonded by contract: control, directed tasks. Cost of contract? Unknown, but fixed variable.
He inhaled.
Future sale price if optimized: 15–20 coins, conservative estimate. Projected gross margin if kept: +12 coins. Immediate loss if sold now: -3 coins. Risk: maintaining an unbonded creature, residual feeding cost.
He glanced at the bartender watching him with boredom.
Potential target market: taverns, brothels, merchants. Constant demand for cleaning services. Barrier to entry: magical contract.
The slime lifted a pseudopod, poking at his boot like it was begging.
Superior ROI if trained. Break-even in 2 future sales.
He drew a long breath.
Conclusion: selling now is irrational.
Finally, he spoke in his cold, unchanging voice:
"Appreciate the offer. Not selling."
The man cursed as he left:
"Then fuck off, you shitty Tamer!"
Eren ignored it. Outside, the slime crawled after him.
schlop… schlop…
Eren looked down.
The creature trembled, making a wet, almost pleading sound.
No bond. But dependent. Emotional imprinting script? Design flaw?
He sighed.
I can't sell it now. And I can't use it either.
He checked his pouch. Few coins.
And without a contract, it doesn't obey commands. Dead weight.
He closed his eyes for a moment.
Plan? Go back to the chicken quest. Safest farming.
He walked back to the center. The village was busier now. More noise. More bad smells.
He stopped in front of the guild. The doors creaked in the wind. He stepped inside. The clerk gave him a look of pure disdain. He ignored it. Went straight to the mission board.
There it was. Retrieve escaped chickens.
He reached out to grab the paper—but then his eye caught something. In the bottom corner. Almost covered by newer notices. A yellowed poster. Old. Ragged. He pulled it carefully. The letters were smudged but legible.
[ABSOLUTE CONTRACT — FIRST TIME FREE.]
Eren arched an eyebrow.
First time free.
He flipped the paper over. No clear instructions. No map. No stamp.
Old offer. No one must use it anymore. Or they forgot.
He rotated the poster between his fingers.
Could be a trap. Could be junk. Could be the only way.
He looked at the slime, which was leaning in the corner, trying to mimic his posture.Eren drew a long breath.
Insufficient data. But worth exploring.
He tucked the paper away. And without saying goodbye, walked out of the guild.
────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────
As Eren Vale walked out of the guild with measured steps, turning the corner with the slime sliding right behind, he didn't even look across the street. But there were eyes on him. In the shadow of a makeshift awning, three men watched him.
The big guy with the sword with no sheath crossed his arms, grinding his teeth.
"Look at him. Like nothing happened."
The half-elf, now with his hood pulled to cover part of his ears, snorted with disdain.
"That bastard. That look... like he's better than everyone."
The bald guy with crooked tattoos spat on the ground.
"Fuck him. Humiliated us. Talked about my tattoo like I'm illiterate."
The elf licked his teeth.
"Because you ARE illiterate."
"Shut up." Growled the bald man.
They fell silent when a local guard walked by, boots clacking on the stone, giving them a hard stare. The big guy kept his arms crossed until the guard moved on.
"We can't do anything here. Too many of these shitty guards."
The elf nodded slowly.
"Safe zone, technically. They don't know the term, but if someone kills or starts a big fight here, the guard shows up and arrests you."
The bald guy cracked his neck.
"Then we wait. He'll have to go out."
The big guy smacked his fist into his palm.
"That Tamer trash will head out to capture something. No choice."
The elf looked at the ground, thoughtful.
"Yeah. Want a monster or not, he'll have to leave the walls. No guards out there."
"That's our moment."
The bald man grinned, missing a tooth.
"I'll cut his balls off."
The elf raised a hand, silencing them. His eyes glinted faintly. He muttered something in a guttural, arcane tongue. His pupils dilated, then narrowed into slits.
His field of vision sharpened, distance shortening into a blurred tunnel. He could see Eren far off, almost in close-up—the impassive face, the slow steps. The quivering slime trailing behind like a wet dog.
The elf smirked crookedly.
"I can see the wrinkles on his face."
The big guy raised an eyebrow.
"And?"
The elf took a steady breath, keeping focus.
"He'll go outside. Not now, but he will. He's got the look of someone getting ready."
"Follow him?"
"From a distance. I'll keep visual."
The bald man let out a low laugh.
"I'll go sharpen my blade."
The big guy cleared his throat.
"No killing right away. First we break him. Make him cry."
The elf didn't take his eyes off Eren.
"He doesn't look like the crying type."
The big guy shrugged.
"Then we take an arm."
The elf's yellow teeth showed in a grin.
"Good enough for me."
The bald guy spat again.
"Gonna be fun showing him who's boss."
They settled back into the shade, waiting like lazy but hungry predators. The elf blinked slowly, his pupil still glowing faint green.
I won't lose sight of him.
And far off, Eren Vale walked along the muddy street, the slime in tow.