by Pirateaba
Over ten people are still inside, some sleeping, others talking quietly or trying to play card games. It’s like this at pretty much any time of the day. True, some people like Richard and Eddy go out on patrols and hunt monsters, but the rest just sit around. There’s not much to do in the village.
Awkwardly, I slip through the room and find my bed. Some of the guys and girls glance up, but they don’t say anything to me. I’m not exactly really popular, and I’m also dressed like a clown. Sort of weird, right?
I sink into the rough fabric sheets of my bed and look around. The only person nearby is Vincent—on the other side of the room I can see most people hanging out. That’s the girl’s side. We don’t have any walls, but we made a cloth curtain for privacy’s sake.
I sigh and lean back against the wall of the townhouse. Well, I did something. Not much, but I’m already tired. I feel despondant; depressed. Like I can’t do anything. I need my medication, but…
“♪Doo doo doodle do do doo doo doot~♫”
Oh god. Not now. A few beds over Vincent sits up. He’d been dozing, but he looks at me as I cover my face in my hands. It’s happening again.
It’s a cheerful little carnival tune, the kind you’d imagine hearing at any circus you visit. It’s clown music, it’s loud, and it’s coming from me. I don’t want to make the sound, but it’s a Skill.
Everyone in the room pauses as they hear the sound. They glare at me and I shrug helplessly. Most try to ignore it, but after a few minutes the tune gets on people’s nerves. For some people, it’s the last straw.
“Stop it!”
I hear the voice, and then Cynthia’s in front of me. She screams at me, face red as she points at my face with a shaking finger.
“Stop it! Stop making that sound!”
“I’m sorry! I can’t control it!”
I raise my hands, but she doesn’t care. She hurls something—a pillow at my head.
“Stop it! Just stop!”
She doesn’t like clowns. She was afraid of them as a child, I think. And she’s stressed out. Like the rest of us, but she’s been crying more than most. And she just can’t stand the tone.
“God damn it, Tom! Can’t you turn that off?”
Someone else shouts at me across the room. I think it’s Kevin. He stands up, fists clenched.
“I’m sorry!”
Cynthia screams at me—more wordless than anything coherent. Chole comes over and pulls Cynthia away while giving me the stink-eye. Cynthia goes with her, crying now.
“I want to go home!”
Vincent follows Cynthia with his gaze and looks at me. The stupid little clown music is still playing in the background.
“Tom—”
“I got it. I’ll go. Sorry.”
I raise my hands and retreat. So much for a rest. Whenever the music starts playing, I annoy everyone around me. I can’t switch it off.
I go outside until the music stops. It only takes five minutes. It’s never long. But it always seems to happen at the wrong time—whenever there’s a group around, which I suppose is the trigger. Thank god it never happens when I sleep.
When it’s finally quiet again, I hear voices arguing. In the time I’ve been gone, it looks like an argument’s started. My fault.
“Well call them back. Why can’t you?”
Chole is arguing as she points to Vincent’s phone. He’s one of the only people in the group who had anything useful with them when they were caught by the spell. It was running out of batteries, but we found out that a [Mage] can cast [Repair] to recharge it.
“It doesn’t work like that! It was a spell that did the call, not the phone itself!”
Vincent holds his iPhone protectively as he argues with her. It’s been nearly two weeks since we got the call where we realized we weren’t the only people in this world, and we haven’t heard anything since. All the euphoria we got from realizing we might be saved is long gone, and we’re even more worried since it seems someone’s gunning for us.
Faces turn red, and they begin an old argument again. I listen as I go back to my bed, trying not to attract attention.
“Why can’t we use a spell? What’s wrong?”
“The guy who made the call – BlackDragon – he said it took a lot of magic! I’m not a [Mage], and I don’t think even Emily can cast the right spells.”
“Well then what do we do?”
Vincent shrugs. He gestures helplessly at the dagger on his belt. He’s got a [Thief] class—although it was from learning to set and disable traps and sneaking around, not from stealing things.
“We just need to keep leveling up. It’s how the games work. We grind and then we get stronger. Once we all get to a higher level and buy enchanted gear—”
“Bullshit. You think that’s gonna help? We’re going to die out here. Everyone’s abandoned us.”
Kevin gets right up in Vincent’s face as he says that. I try to hide as Vincent gets mad.
“Well what do you think we should do? At least I go out and fight. All you do is sit around all day and complain!”
That’s true. Vincent’s normally with the hunting party and Kevin’s not. But that just makes Kevin angrier. His face goes really red and he shoves Vincent.
“Fuck you!”
“Fuck you, asshole!”
“Stop it! Stop fighting!”
Chole and one of the other girls gets between the two of them before it can come to fists again. Behind them, Cynthia raises her voice as Vincent and Kevin let themselves be dragged back by the others.
“Someone’s going to save us. Someone’s going to come any day now…”
She rocks back and forth, mumbling to herself. She says it loud enough that the rest of us can hear—but not so loud that we can really tell her to shut up.
When she’s not upset, Cynthia keeps telling us that we’ll be rescued. She claims that the army will find a way to save us, or someone will open a portal to this world or—we’ll wake up or something. She wants to believe. And some of the others do, but I think the rest are starting to think like I do.
Even if people notice we’re gone, how would they get here? We can barely get to other planets, let alone to other dimensions. And even if by some miracle people build a…a Stargate or something, how would they know to look for us here? In a remote village in probably the worst part of the entire world?
Cynthia keeps repeating the words as she rocks back and forth. Stacy puts a hand on her knee, but the rocking doesn’t stop.
At least it’s only muttering and crying and shouting at me. It could be a lot worse.
The last time Cynthia freaked, she broke half of the plates and cups the villagers gave us, and the only glass window in the townhouse and the village itself for that matter.
Is it any wonder why the people here hate us? I’m not surprised at all. All this time, they were hoping desperately for someone to save them. Their King told them heroes were coming, and they believed.
They prayed for heroes.
Instead, they got us.
The argument isn’t over. Vincent and Kevin are giving each other the evil-eye, and Chole still wants the iPhone, which Vincent doesn’t want to hand over. He only gave it to Richard because everyone agreed he should be the one to talk, but aside from that Vincent won’t let anyone touch it.
That came after a few bad incidents where people kept the iPhone and pretended they didn’t have it…as voices raise again I decide I’m not going to get any sleep after all.
I leave the townhouse and wander around. I’ve eaten enough. Well—not enough since I’m hungry, but enough to survive. I can handle the hunger. And I still have one of the fruity buns in my pocket from breakfast.
One good thing about dressing like a [Clown] is that you get baggy pockets. Add that to my Skill to pull objects seemingly out of nowhere, and I can do one good trick. And eat food when no one’s watching.
Good thing Vincent didn’t get into a fight with Kevin. Because if they had,
he would have won. It’s the thing about Classes and this world.
The thing is, Kevin’s a big guy. Also African American, which I know is really racist, but he looks scarier than Vincent, who looks…like a white guy in college, if I’m honest. Sort of like me, although he’s in a bit better shape.
But Kevin has muscles. Vincent has muscles, but not nearly as many. But if it came to a fight, Vincent would win hands down.
He’s a Level 14 [Thief] with several skills that let him set traps, move around stealthily, and so on, but the levels have also made him stronger. We actually tested it; despite him not having any skills, he’s a bit stronger than another guy who’s as fit as he is. But he’s faster too; a lot faster. It seems there’s some passive benefit to leveling, but maybe it’s just the Level 1 [Hero] class he has.
Because that would be the big difference between Kevin and Vincent. A lot of the people in our group—all of the people who sit around in the townhouse all day but me, really—they’ve lost their [Hero] class.
It started happening a few days after we got to the village. One day Cynthia woke up and told us that she heard a voice saying she’d lost her [Hero] class. No one could explain it, and we didn’t dare tell the villagers or the soldiers.
Slowly, it happened to the others. Everyone who wasn’t fighting monsters.
Not me, though. And that’s the thing. I think I get why it’s happening, but I haven’t told anyone what I think but Richard. And even he doesn’t know the whole of my theory.
We’re all Level 1 [Heroes], the people who still have the class. But none of us have leveled, even though Richard’s a Level 26 [Knight] and Emily’s a Level 21 [Hydromancer]. But none of us have leveled the [Hero] class.
Some of us think that’s because there’s only one level for that class. Eddy thinks it’s a special class, and most people agree with that. After all, why wouldn’t Richard level up? He’s the leader and the best fighter out of all of us. If anyone’s a hero, it’s him.
Because that’s what they don’t get, the others. A hero isn’t someone who’s brave or courageous. A hero doesn’t slay monsters or rescue princesses (or princes). If you look up the word ‘hero’ in a dictionary, you get a different answer.
A hero is someone admired or idealized. A hero is a person others look up to.
A [Hero] is only a hero if other people think he’s a hero. Which explains how we got the class when we were summoned.
Trouble is, I’m no hero. And I don’t think anyone else in our group is, either. And the more these villagers and the rest of the kingdom gets a look at us, the less they think we’re heroes as well.
So we start losing the class. The villagers might have some hopes for Richard and the other fighters, but when you look at a bunch of whining, crying teenagers and young adults who argue all the time and do nothing…
We’re useless. I’m the most useless, but we’re just a drain on the village. God. I just want to not be here. But if I’m not in the townhouse, I’d better try to level up again. I just need one more level.
This time the kids ignore me just like the adults as I start my juggling act. They ignore me as they play, except as an obstacle. Tomorrow they probably won’t even stop to watch, and how will I level then?
Don’t think of that. Keep smiling. Keep waddling around. I spin the three pins higher in the air.
“A [Tumbler] can juggle six balls.”
I drop a pin and glare at the boy who addresses me. It’s the same one who commented on my joke.
Wilen. He’s too young to have a job besides help his parents, but he’s a bit too old to play with the other kids. He scratches at his uncombed hair as he stares at my fat belly covered by ill-fitting clown clothes.
“Are you going to leave?”
“No. I don’t think so, I mean. Not unless the king—I mean, your King sends for us.”
“Okay.”
Should I keep juggling? I really don’t want to. I’m sweaty, my arms are tired, and I’m not feeling funny. Wilen stands with me as I look around awkwardly.
“Are you trying to level up?”
“Yep.”
It’s weird to have a conversation like this, but Wilen is native to this world, and he seems perfectly at easy.
“How do [Clowns] level up? Is it from how long you juggle pins? [Tumblers] level up if they get a large crowd.”
“I think it works the same way with [Clowns]. I don’t know.”
“Don’t they have more [Clowns] where you come from, then?”
“They do but…I don’t know. Sorry.”
I shrug awkwardly, just as unsatisfied as Wilen with my explanation. I frown and bend to pick up one of my pins.
“It’s about making people laugh. I think.”
“But no one ever laughs at you. Your jokes are terrible.”
“Yeah.”
Wilen’s one of my regulars, so he’d know. I’ve tried nearly a hundred jokes in the time I’ve been here, but I’m really just not that funny.
“Well, I’m Level 19, so I should be doing something right.”
How much of that is due to the [Hero] class?
“If no one’s laughing at you, that can’t be the way [Clowns] level up.”
Wilen says this as if it’s obvious and I’m and idiot for not realizing it. I nod, and he scratches at his head.
“Is it about attracting attention?”
“No…[Clowns] are meant to be funny.”
“Really? But—”
“I know. But not really funny. It’s…”
How can I explain clowns to someone who’s never seen one? I mean, how do you even explain the funny guys who scare just as many people as you entertain? In the first place, clowns aren’t nearly the funniest bit of the circus act. They’re—we’re the sideshows at best.
“Clowns…are more like the jokers. They’re like the butt of the joke.”
“Joke? You mean, telling jokes?”
Wilen looks at me skeptically, and I shake my head. Then I have it.
“No—it’s about distracting people. Being a clown is about setting up the joke.”
“What joke?”
“I’m not sure.”
But it was right, what I said. Wilen frowns and opens his mouth to ask me another question. Gah.
I fish at my pocket, and then remember I’m a [Clown] and pull the fruit bun out of Wilen’s ear instead. He doesn’t look impressed, but he does look hungry. I hold the slightly-squished bun out to him.
“Here. It’s not very funny, but it’s edible.”
He looks at me suspiciously, but I keep my face straight. Wilen hesitates as he stares at the baked fruit bun in my hands. Then he takes it, awkwardly.
“Thanks.”
He shouldn’t be thanking me. I should be thanking him. We’re the village’s responsibility; even if we occasionally get supplies from the capital, the villagers are forced to feed us from their stores.
“So. Um, how’s it going?”
Wilen shrugs as he devours the bun.
“Good. I’m trying to learn how to use a sword so I can get a [Warrior] class. My mom wants me to be a [Merchant] instead.”
He makes a face. I guess it’s sort of like wanting to be a policeman and being told to study economics instead. But after seeing monsters up close myself, I can’t argue with his mother’s opinion.
“You know, being a [Warrior] isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. A [Merchant] probably makes more money.”
Wilen looks at me scornfully.
“And how would I protect myself when the Demons attack? They’re gonna come again someday. The Demon King’s going to attack the Wall soon, everyone knows.”
I’ve got nothing to say to that. He’s right. This isn’t a safe place like America. Hell, America’s not even that safe, but at least only a few people get shot every day. But here you could get eaten by a giant…snail or something.
“Well, good luck. I’m going to uh, well, I guess I’ll see you later.”
> “Okay.”
Wilen runs off to play with his friends. I waddle off to visit the horses.
The village has a large stable and about sixteen horses inside it. It’s very barnyard in terms of smell and appearance, but at least the horses don’t judge me like people. They just sniff at me and blow air.
I don’t like horses, and I doubt they like carrying me. But no one bothers me there, and I don’t bother anyone else.
It might be odd to have so many horses in a village, but they’re there in case a message needs to be sent to an outpost or a [Soldier] needs one. Besides, keeping the stable earns the villagers some badly needed coin.
I sit in some straw, praying the squishy thing underneath my butt isn’t something that came out of a horse’s rear end and take a nap until I hear a voice and sense someone standing over me.
“Tom.”
I look up at the sound of the voice, and try to smile. It’s Richard. The leader of our wonderful little group.
He’s returned with the others. They came in on horseback, eight people – three girls and five guys. Before, they’d have an escort of soldiers, but Richard is considered to be enough protection to lead the group on his own.
Around me, people dismount, most still awkwardly. There’s not a lot of natural riders in the group. I see one tall, pretty girl dismounting and brushing at her robes.
Emily. You could say she’s the second leader of the group aside from Richard. Most of the guys like her, and she’s got the highest level besides Richard. She sniffs at me, but doesn’t say anything.
Richard dismounts and tends to his horse while the others leave theirs still saddled and walk out. He’s a considerate guy, and he actually knows how to ride a horse. He grew up down south, in Mississippi, on a ranch of all things.
“Tom. How’s it been down here?”
I shrug as I stand up and dust straw off my pants.
“Quiet. I uh, I made Sarah cry when the music started playing. Keven and Vince nearly got into a fight.”
Richard sighs as he hangs up the saddle and rubs at his shoulders. He’s wearing chainmail, a shield, and sword, but carries it all as if it weighs nothing.
“Can’t you stop it?”