This Quest is Broken! (This Trilogy is Broken (A Comedy Litrpg Adventure) Book 1)

by J. P. Valentine

  * * *

  Eve slammed the door to the adventurer’s guild behind her, storming through the common room with her fistful of rat tails. Shadowblades and Paladins and Occultists alike turned away and pinched their noses as she passed, rightfully averse to her stench. Eve cared little, practically allowing herself to drip filth onto the floor. Let them all see what she’d been through.

  Curiously enough, the other guildsmen were happy to step out of her way as she approached the counter. Being covered in sewage had its perks.

  Eve slapped her severed vermin-bits on the wooden desk. “Ten tails, as requested.”

  The clerk looked up at her with raised eyebrows. She didn’t smirk. She didn’t laugh. She didn’t roll her eyes. “Well done,” she simply said, sliding ten silver coins across the table. “Your pay.”

  Eve scowled but didn’t comment.

  “You know,” the clerk added, “some adventurers have never trudged through a sewer to kill a few rats, and it really shows.” The Striker opened her mouth to retort, but the receptionist beat her to it with an uncharacteristically warm look. “Welcome to the guild.”

  Eve only managed a furrowed brow and a surprised “thank you” before the clerk called up the next person in line. Taking her dismissal for what it was, she turned towards the narrow stairs, replaying the brief conversation in her mind as she embarked on the monumental task of washing up.

  Two baths, a silver coin spent on laundry, and an entire bar of soap later, Eve sat at a newly purchased table in the guild common room as a certain Priestess fussed over her hair with a pair of scissors.

  “It’s such a shame,” Preston rambled as he tidied up the rough cut her dagger had made. “You have such a lovely chestnut. I’d hate to see it turned into a mess.”

  “Chestnut,” Eve scoffed. “It’s fucking brown.”

  “Speak for yourself.” Wes ran a hand through his own hair, now longer than Eve’s where it rested just over his ears. “Yours may be brown, but mine is roasted chestnut.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Our hair’s the same color.”

  “Yep.” Preston smiled as he leaned down to confirm his trim on each side of Eve’s head was level. “And that color is chestnut.”

  Eve shut her eyes as the healer moved on to evening out her bangs. “How did you even learn to do this?”

  “My da’s a Barber. Level nineteen. He taught me the basics, even let me practice on my brothers.” Preston chuckled. “You should’ve seen some of the messes I’ve made.”

  Eve’s eyebrows shot up, eliciting a sharp “hold still!” from the healer. “I hope you’re not making a mess of me.”

  “If you keep moving, I might,” he replied. “Don’t worry. I’ve had lots of practice. You’re going to end up with a bit of a boyish style ‘cause that’s all I know, but that’s what you get for cutting it so short.”

  Per his instructions, Eve stopped herself from shrugging. “Honestly, as long as it stays out of my face and I don’t look like a complete mess, I don’t really care.”

  “Well it’s good you have me,” Preston said as he carefully snipped along. “Lesson number one is never cut your own hair.”

  “Hold on,” Wes stepped in. “I’m still caught up on the earlier bit. You have brothers?”

  “Three of ‘em,” the Priestess replied. “All older. Believe me, I’m lucky Da was there to stop them beating me up whenever I cut their hair. I deserved it.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “Oh, here and there.” Preston flourished with his scissors. “Danny’s in the city guard, Reid’s in a banking office somewhere, and Charlie’s working as an apprentice to a local alchemist. Don’t tell him I said this, but I swear he’s got a crush on his boss. Anyway, we all get together for drinks every now and again, but I don’t really see them that much these days.”

  “That’s a shame,” said Wes. “I’d love to meet them sometime. Do they—uh—know about your quest?”

  Eve narrowed her eyes at the question, remembering how cagey the healer had been about his life quest.

  “They do,” he answered curtly before falling silent. The conversation stalled as Preston seemed to devote his focus to the task at hand before suddenly stepping back with a grand flourish. “And done!”

  Eve ran a hand over the back of her head, feeling the sharpness of freshly cut hair. It stopped above her ears, just long enough to lie flat on the top of her head. Her bangs swept to the side, leaving her forehead completely exposed. Nothing about the new look excited Eve, but the newfound shortness would definitely make life easier.

  “Thanks, Preston,” she said. “I’m just going to assume it looks nice.” Absent a mirror, she couldn’t say more, but she had every faith in the healer’s abilities.

  “You’re very welcome,” he called over his shoulder as he crossed the common room to fetch a broom.

  Eve took it from his outstretched hand, volunteering herself for the job of sweeping up the hair trimmings. “So—um—you were talking about that quest of yours?”

  Wes and Preston shared a quiet look before the Priestess scowled and turned back to Eve. “It’s not a big deal. I’m more interested in yours, actually. Why haven’t you completed it yet?”

  She shrugged. “Because the universe is conspiring to stop me? Besides, what would I even do if I finished it?”

  “The same things you’re doing now? You don’t need a relevant quest to be an adventurer. And hey, once you’ve fetched your bread or whatever, you can always visit the Stones again to pick up another Secondary quest.”

  “I don’t know, Preston.”

  The healer smiled. “You should at least keep trying. Look at it this way: if the universe is conspiring to stop you, you might as well make it work for it.”

  Eve planted her foot. “You know what? You’re right.”

  Wes stood. “Eve, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I don’t think the Stones are going to let you finish your quest until you actually do something Legendary. You shouldn’t push it. Remember what happened in Ponsted?”

  She shook the image of the burning bakery from her mind. “No, no, I should go. Hells, maybe with my Shatterfate class I can actually do it.” Eve tossed the broom handle to Wes, who fumbled it twice before catching it. “I’ll be back in a bit!”

  The Striker turned, striding across the common room. As she swung open the door, she made a point of ignoring Wes’s words of warning, choosing instead to heed Preston’s call of “good luck!”

  From where she stood on the cobblestones of Lynthia, the fallen sun cast twilit gloom across the streets and alleys. The final glimmers of sunlight still graced the very tops of the glass walls, sending brilliant beams of orange and yellow and pink across the city’s rooftops. Eve picked a direction and started walking.

  Late as the hour may have been on the bakery-adjusted scale, the Striker knew for certain of an establishment that sold ales as well as breads. With any luck they’d still have a loaf in stock.

  She kept her spirits high as she wandered the streets, looking on as butchers and leatherworkers and carpenters disappeared into their homes and the scavengers and streetwalkers and drunkards took their place.

  Gone was the symphony of banging hammers and haggling shoppers and shouting merchants. Now was the time for the opening chords of the songs of night. Songs crafted of professional Bards, of raucous laughter, and of lustful wails. The city at night was a panoply of vice and crime and joy and love, and Eve reveled in it.

  The bakery came all too soon.

  Golden lamplight spilled through the windows of Breads and Brews, all the sign Eve needed of their ongoing business. A smile crossed her face as she stepped ever closer. Her heart began to pound as she imagined what kind of quest reward she might receive. It was a Legendary quest, after all.

  It’s too easy, she thought. With every stride she imagined the building going up in smoke, or selling their final loaf, or shutting down for the night. Eve shook her head as she imagined som
ething moving in the shadows of the alley behind the bakery. Just a cat, she told herself as she stepped past the alley’s mouth.

  It was no cat.

  An arm shot from the darkness, snagging her wrist with brutal speed. Eve only managed half a gasp of shock before a meaty hand slammed over her mouth. Her heart raced. Adrenaline and panic joined forces as they coursed through her. She reached her free hand for a dagger, but a second figure emerged from the alley. Two thick arms wrapped around her from behind, holding her in place as she squirmed.

  Eve panicked.

  Her mind raced through her every option, cursing herself for storing all her Mana in the weapons. Unable to reach them, she was without it. She thought to Charge! away but the hands which bound her proved as iron.

  A masculine grunt rang out behind her as she activated Jet, but her captor held.

  “Fuck!” he swore. “She’s squirmy.”

  “Hold on, hold on,” his companion rambled.

  Eve twisted and kicked in desperation as she heard the sound of a stopper coming uncorked. Her efforts proved in vain.

  Her final thoughts as the stranger held the vial to her nose were many. The first, and most pressing, was that these were no simple thugs. To overcome Jet implied a level of strength she’d not yet faced. The second were the words the man said as a fog began to overcome her.

  “Sleep now, girly. Boss wants to have a word with ya.”

  Just before the spreading fog could overcome her consciousness, an image appeared in the corner of her vision, flashing a familiar blue.

  Legendary Quest Milestone Reached: Be Kidnapped!

  +8000 exp!

  And the world went black.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Not That Kind of Job Offer

  THE FIRST THING Eve saw as the fog began to drift clear of her mind was a flashing blue notification. Gods damnit, she cursed to herself. That’s three times in less than a week. I really gotta stop passing out. Whether or not being drugged by a pair of burly men dragging her into an alley counted as a valid excuse for blacking out was an entirely separate matter.

  Some combination of unwilling and unable to push past the lingering lethargy that still clung to her body, Eve forwent rising from the soft surface on which she lay. For now, she kept her eyes closed and opened the message.

  Level Up!

  Level Up!

  Ability Upgraded!

  Passive Ability - Battle-hardened

  Gain poison resistance!

  Well that would’ve been fucking nice, Eve mused. Just like with the explosion resistance, her skill had decided to upgrade the second after she needed it.

  Ability Upgraded!

  Active Ability - Jet

  Jet in any direction!

  Eve furrowed her brow as she reread the ability. Now that is interesting. As far she knew, she already could Jet in any direction, at least so much as she’d tested. Does this mean I can Jet up to launch myself into the air? Or use it to catch myself mid-fall? Scenes of leaping off high cliffs only to Jet to a halt just before hitting the ground flashed through Eve’s mind. It sounded like fun.

  A sultry voice pulled Eve from her reverie. “Good morning, my sweet. Did you have a nice nap?”

  The Striker snapped her status screen shut, pushing herself upright to find she sat on a bed of pillows. A cursory scan of the room displayed an abundance of luxury and an awful lot of red. Crimson curtains of flowing silk draped across the corners, segmenting little nooks of plush cushions like Eve’s own. Embroidered velvet—also red—caressed her exposed palms as she leaned against them.

  The source of the voice—or so Eve assumed—was the chamber’s only other occupant. Despite the silver sheen of her hair, the woman’s skin was free of wrinkles. She sat upon an ornate mahogany desk, strewn about it as if posing to show off her curves. It might’ve made for an alluring sight if not for her choice of attire.

  Her dress was, for lack of a better term, frumpy. The baby blue monstrosity sagged in all the wrong places, covering the woman’s flawless skin in a way that even a Bishop of Ayla might find overly modest. Wrinkled sleeves stretched all the way to her wrists, ending in a poof of white lace that Eve found tacky if not outright hideous.

  “Where am I?” she eventually managed.

  “My office,” the stranger replied. “I have a few questions for you.”

  “And you are?”

  “Call me Agatha.” She smiled, her gorgeously made-up face parting to reveal a practically glimmering set of pearly teeth.

  Before replying, Eve decided now was as good a time as any to Appraise her captor.

  Level ?? Lady of Whispers

  Unique Tier ?? Class

  Great, it’s the man of the fucking mists all over again, Eve cursed to herself for what felt like the hundredth time that day. “Alright, Agatha. You’re free to ask, but I have questions of my own.”

  “Ooh, trading questions. I do love this game. A bit overdone, but that’s true of all the classics, I suppose.” The woman’s smile shifted from alluring to predatory in a moment. “Why don’t you begin?”

  Eve refrained from pointing out Agatha just had begun on the basis that technicalities were no fun. “Where are we? For real this time.”

  “The upper floor of the Gilded Hyacinth, one of my establishments. Fourth building down on Vermillion Way in the grand city of Lynthia.”

  Eve opened her mouth to speak, but the stranger held up a shushing finger. The muted cries of pleasure that penetrated the floor beneath them in the momentary silence told Eve all she needed to know about what kind of ‘establishment’ Agatha meant.

  “Now,” a venomous sweetness filled the woman’s voice, “my informants tell me you took an off-the-books solo job for the guild’s receptionist. What was it?”

  “Huh?” Eve faltered. “That’s what I’m here for?” She snorted.

  “Do you have to ask?”

  Eve turned up her palms. “Alright, sure. That clerk’s a bitch and she made me wade through the sewer to kill rats.”

  Agatha’s irises flashed gold for a quarter of a second. She tilted her head. “Curious.”

  Eve furrowed her brow as she asked her next question. “Why do you care about the receptionist?”

  “She’s up to something. I don’t know what or why, but I tell you, my dear, I’m going to find out. She’s not tied to any of the players I know. Who does she work for?”

  “Um… the guild?” She’s gods-damned paranoid, Eve mused. The man of the mists had told her others would reach out, but she hadn’t exactly expected it to happen so soon, nor for it to be a strange old lady spouting conspiracy theories about the guild clerk. Having two goons snatch her in a dark alley didn’t seem like an effective recruiting technique, either.

  Eve shook her head. "Maybe it has something to do with my speeding ticket. The clerk was rather unfazed when I told her about it. She could be colluding with the city guard.”

  Agatha waved her off. “No, no, that was perfectly legitimate. Speeding is dangerous, you know.”

  Eve sighed but didn’t comment.

  The brothel owner continued on to her turn. “Why might she send you my way?”

  “What?”

  Agatha sighed. “Must I explain it for you, my dear? She knows I keep an eye on this city and that I wouldn’t miss an off-the-books job like this. If the job itself wasn’t important, she must’ve intended to arrange our meeting.”

  “I—um—I really don’t know. I don’t think she was thinking that far ahead. She’s always been rude to me, and she knew I needed money to pay back my friend after I destroyed a piece of guild property. She was just trying to haze me. You think there’s more to it?”

  “Was she?” Agatha pressed.

  Eve shrugged. “As far as she’s concerned, I’m just some Courier who worked her way to a Common tier three.” She smiled. “Do you have need of Strikers?”

  The strange woman sat upright, her posture immaculate as she stared down at Eve f
rom her seat atop the extravagant desk. “But you aren’t, are you? You’re far more interesting than that.”

  “Maybe,” Eve said, “but she doesn’t know that.” She crossed her arms. “I think it’s my turn.”

  “I believe so,” Agatha replied. “I’ll admit I got a bit lost in that last exchange.”

  Eve exhaled. “Why kidnap me? You could’ve just sent me a letter or asked me directly. Hells, I’d be remarkably pissed at you right now if—” She stopped herself before admitting she’d received a milestone for the experience.

  “If it weren’t for my level?” she assumed. Eve didn’t correct her misjudgment. “A number of reasons. Horrible as it may be, the world doesn’t bat an eye at a girl being snatched into a dark alley. Mysterious letters from high-levels draw attention. Think of it as a lesson. The next thing you find lurking in the alleyways might not be so hospitable.”

  “Is that right?” Eve snorted. “How do you live your life if high-levels can’t show their faces in public?”

  Agatha held up a finger, swinging it side to side as if chastising a child. “No, no, dear thing. It’s my turn. What are the details of your quest?”

  Interesting, Eve wondered, thinking back to her conversation with the man of the mists. “You don’t already know?”

  “Why should I?”

  Eve raised her eyebrows. “It’s a Legendary quest to buy a loaf of bread.”

  Once again the woman’s irises flashed gold. Her eyes shot wide open. “So that’s why…”

  The office fell quiet for some time as Agatha muttered to herself. Eve took the opportunity to ask her next question. “If you knew the receptionist sent me on a job and how to find me in the alley, how could you not know where I went?”

  The madam grinned. “I have eyes in the guild hall, not in the sewers. I’ve found they don’t make for interesting rumors. The real question is, what to do with you?”