Knock, knock!
The sharp, rhythmic rapping against the wooden door pulled me from a deep, heavy sleep. I groaned, the sound muffled by the thick blankets I had pulled up to my chin. Another morning in Targashar had begun. I felt a sudden, inexplicable lack of will to leave the bed; my limbs felt like they were made of lead, and a lingering dizziness swirled behind my eyes whenever I tried to sit up. It wasn't the exhaustion of battle, but rather the heavy weight of the changing seasons. The air in the room had grown chilly overnight, carrying the sharp, crisp bite of late autumn. We were approaching the eleventh month, and if this world followed the same celestial rhythm as Earth, winter was waiting just around the corner to sink its teeth into the kingdom.
I knew I had to get up eventually. Stephen was a man of infinite patience when it came to his routine; he would continue to knock until he heard the latch turn. But then, a realization sparked through my grogginess. I didn't necessarily have to be the one to open the door anymore. I glanced toward the floor beside my bed and was surprised to see that Namo was already wide awake. He was sitting on his blanket, his feline ears twitching at the sound of the knocking. Whether it was his natural catkin instincts or a habit ingrained by years of servitude, he was ready for the day long before I had even cleared the fog from my mind.
“Hey, Namo,” I muttered, my voice raspy from sleep. “Please answer the door.”
“...Yes, master,” he replied instantly. There was no hesitation in his voice, only that familiar, quiet obedience. He stood up with a fluid, silent grace and crossed the room to pull the door open. He stood on the threshold, a small but sturdy figure, waiting for the innkeeper to deliver his message.
“Hi… um. Lad, good morning,” Stephen’s voice drifted in, sounding uncharacteristically hesitant. It was clearly their first real interaction, and I could tell the innkeeper was struggling to find the right social footing with my new companion. Namo, despite his basic vocabulary and simplified sentences, seemed to have been well-schooled in the etiquette expected of a slave. He offered a respectful nod, acknowledging his own status while maintaining the dignity of our room.
“I’m just here to wake the room,” Stephen continued, regaining some of his professional poise. “Breakfast is ready whenever you both come down.”
“Yess. I tell the master,” Namo replied clumsily. The exchange was brief and efficient, ending with the soft click of the door as Namo returned to the foot of my bed. He didn't speak; he simply stood there, waiting for me to take the lead. He was observant enough to know I had heard every word, and he was sober enough to realize that my "master" persona required me to be the one to initiate the day's tasks. I let out a final, resigned sigh and threw back the blankets, the cold air hitting my skin like a splash of ice water.
We dressed in silence, the only sounds being the rustle of leather and the clink of metal as we strapped on our gear. We headed downstairs to the common room, where the scent of frying sausages and warm bread helped to finally chase away the last of my dizziness. Namo followed a step behind me, and I was relieved that he didn't repeat his hesitant questions about whether it was "okay" to sit at my table. He was still timid, his movements cautious and self-contained, but the routine was beginning to take hold.
Once breakfast was finished, I prepared for our departure. Since there were now two of us to account for, the single portion of provisions I usually carried would no longer suffice. I had a looming financial problem—I was down to my last five silver coins with no copper to speak of—but I was tired of making small, inefficient purchases. I decided to spend one of my remaining silvers on a bulk order of ten portions of dry, nutrient-rich provisions. These were designed for durability, meaning they wouldn't spoil during a long delve. I left six portions in the room as a backup and handed four to Namo, instructing him to carry them in his new pack.
I chose not to use the Warp spell to enter the dungeon directly from the inn. While Namo was bound to me as a slave and technically couldn't betray my secrets, trust was something that needed to be forged in the heat of battle, not just mandated by a magical contract. For now, I preferred to keep my most powerful "cheats" hidden until I was certain of his loyalty. We walked through the city as the first rays of dawn began to bleed over the horizon, casting a pale, golden glow over the stone walls of the dungeon entrance. I offered the guard a curt nod of recognition, and we stepped into the abyss together.
Before we set foot in the corridors of the first floor, I officially formed a party with Namo through the system interface. It was a bizarre, visceral sensation. The moment the connection was established, I felt a faint, humming warmth in the back of my mind—a directional sense that told me exactly where Namo was standing, even without looking at him. It was a profound level of awareness that changed the way I perceived the dungeon.
***
Targashar Dungeon
Floor 1
Floor 2
.
.
Floor 9
Floor 10
***
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I selected the first floor from the menu. I wanted to see exactly what Namo was capable of before we faced the orcs of the ninth floor. I decided to act as a back-line observer, letting him handle the Level 1 slimes that roamed the entrance corridors. Namo wasn't reluctant to fight; he had clearly hunted for his tribe before, but he lacked any formal training with a sword. He moved with a raw, jerky energy, his swings wide and unrefined as he struggled to find the small, shifting cores of the slimes.
While I watched his clumsy efforts, I decided to delve into the Player Window. I hadn't checked the skill list since buying the slave, and I was shocked by what I found. Several new entries were highlighted with the word "New" in shimmering blue text. It seemed that forming a party had unlocked a suite of cooperative skills that had been previously hidden from me.
***
Skill Name: Party Panel (New)
Description: Show the party members' stats, reserves (HP, MP, SP), jobs, and make it possible to change their job.
Point Cost: 10
—
Skill Name: Party Loyalty (New)
Description: Increases the party members' loyalty towards the leader.
Point Cost: 10
—
Skill Name: Mutual Health (New)
Description: Connects party members' health reserves to each other. It doesn't divide equally, and skill would be unaffected on members with health that is lower than 10 percent.
Point Cost: 10
***
I skimmed past several other options—including a strange skill called "Memorable Touch" that seemed designed for nothing but mischief—and immediately purchased the Party Panel. Information was the foundation of power in this world. I called out the skill's name, and a new window manifested in the air, showing a detailed breakdown of Namo's status.
***
HP: 120
MP: 40
SP: 40
Strength: 5
Endurance: 4
Vitality: 6
Agility: 6
Dexterity: 4
Intelligence: 4
Wisdom: 4
Sense: 6
Charisma: 4
Regeneration: 4
—
Equipped Jobs:
Villager Level 11
—
Acquired Jobs:
Villager Level 11
Hunter Level 1
Beast Warrior Level 1
Dungeon Raider Level 1
***
His stats were perfectly suited to his race—high Agility and Sense, but lower Endurance. I looked at his available jobs and saw that he had already unlocked the Dungeon Raider job simply by entering the dungeon with me. However, it was another job that caught my eye: Beast Warrior. It was a role specifically for beastkin, likely unlocked after he reached Level 10 in his Villager job back at his home.
***
Beast Warrior:
- Villager level 10 and killing an enemy while being a beastkin.
- A normal job for beastkins.
- Strength increase (minor)
- Agility increase (minor)
- Sense increase (small)
Skill: Beast Instinct
- Agility and sense stats increase by (0.5 + 0.01 * level) % for 10 seconds.
- Skill cost = 20 mana
***
I didn't hesitate. I used the Panel to swap his job from Villager to Beast Warrior. The transformation was instantaneous. Namo, who had been struggling to time a strike against a hopping slime, suddenly froze. His ears twitched, and his posture shifted into a lower, more predatory crouch. When the slime lunged again, he didn't just block it; he sidestepped with a fluid grace that was almost too fast to follow. His copper sword lashed out, finding the slime’s core with a sharp, decisive crack.
He looked down at his own hands, a look of pure bewilderment on his face. He could clearly feel the surge in his senses and the newfound sharpness in his muscles, even if he couldn't see the numbers behind them. I realized then that if I wanted him to be a viable partner, I had to be the one to guide his growth. He needed levels, better equipment, and a week of high-density combat to build our synergy.
I decided we would spend the next seven days grinding through the lower floors, turning him into a true warrior before we even dreamed of the eleventh level. I was satisfied with the progress. My own jobs were growing at an incredible rate—Swordsman at 26, Warrior and Dungeon Raider both at 20, and Hunter nearly at 30. Thanks to my 49x experience multiplier, I was already far beyond the strength of any normal person.
The week ahead would be a trial of endurance and teamwork, but as I watched Namo move toward the next monster with a newfound confidence, I knew I had made the right choice. We were no longer just a master and a slave; we were a party.
[Edited]