The second the attribute point dropped in, Levi’s body started changing in ways that made zero sense.
Old bad posture, lazy habits, all of it got scrubbed away by some gentle but unstoppable force.
A warm rush flooded through him.
Every muscle tingled and ached for a solid ten minutes before it finally eased off.
The burn from those push-ups?
Gone like it never happened.
“No fucking way something this broken actually exists,” he muttered.
“The system’s real.”
He flexed, made a fist.
Muscle size hadn’t changed much—he hadn’t dumped points into Strength—but the exhaustion and arm soreness had vanished completely.
“Test it.
See what actually improved.”
He dropped and started counting.
“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight… nine… ten.”
Ten minutes ago those same ten push-ups had wrecked him.
Now they barely touched his tank.
Before, they’d burned half his stamina.
This time it felt like a third or less.
Constitution had only gone from 0.8 to 0.9, but his max endurance had jumped almost fifty percent in one shot.
Starting from a pretty shitty baseline helped, sure, but the difference was still massive.
Levi stared at the glowing panel in his head, heat building behind his eyes.
Even the yelling and stomping from upstairs sounded less annoying.
Next morning, right after seven, Don Quixote’s voice ripped him out of sleep.
“Up!
Kid, unless you wanna rot in this moldy basement on day one!”
The old man’s shouting plus the noise of him getting dressed in the tiny space hit harder than traffic outside.
Levi rubbed his temples, sat up, and stared at the ceiling—and the system panel he could pull up just by thinking.
This was all real.
Not a dream.
He yanked the curtain back.
Don Quixote was pulling on a paint-splattered reflective vest, half a fried donut dangling from his mouth.
His eyes looked clear but exhausted, like the armored knight from three a.m.
had never existed.
“Listen, I’m heading to the job site in Queens to haul bricks,” he said while tying his boots, voice muffled.
“You don’t need me dragging you to school—shit, I still haven’t even called about getting you enrolled—so just stay here or walk down 8th Avenue.
Don’t go far.
Don’t start trouble.
Meet me at the site around noon.
And keep your eyes to yourself on the street, especially with the Black guys.”
“Uncle,” Levi called as Don Quixote reached for the door.
His fingers brushed the coin in his pocket.
“Anyplace around here I can sell old stuff?
Pawnshop?
Recycling spot?”
Don Quixote stopped and turned, suddenly interested.
“You smuggling something good?
Or trying to fence a watch your dad left?”
“No…” Levi lied.
“Brought some winter clothes.
It’s summer.
Figured I’d sell them for cash.”
Don Quixote glanced at the open suitcase full of clothes and lost interest fast.
“Smart,” he snorted, shoving the iron door open.
“Out of the alley, right onto 8th Avenue.
Place called Lyon’s Pawn & Secondhand.
They buy everything.
Tell them Don Quixote Cervantes sent you—they won’t fuck you over too bad.
But speak English.
You start talking Chinese and they’ll smell fresh meat and carve you up.”
The door slammed.
Levi tried the bathroom sink.
The water ran yellow and cloudy.
He gave up, threw on a plain t-shirt and baseball cap, locked up, and headed for 8th Avenue.
Sunset Park in the morning hit different—loud, messy, alive.
Stepping out of the alley felt like getting slapped with sunlight and noise.
8th Avenue was Brooklyn’s Chinatown, packed with Fujianese immigrants and Latino vendors.
Stalls everywhere selling produce, seafood, cheap shit.
Air thick with fish, exhaust, and fried food.
Two blocks later he spotted the faded neon: Lyon Pawn & Secondhand Goods.
The system voice dropped into his head.
[Adventurer Levi, you have reached the Goblin’s Shop.]
[Goblin Lyon is a famous profiteer in these parts.
Reading marks and bleeding people dry is his daily bread.
Almost nobody walks away ahead with him.]
[New Quest: Haggle with Lyon.
Make this goblin merchant taste what it feels like to lose money.]
[Reward: Attribute Points +0.1, Gold Coins +1]
Levi pushed inside.
Behind the counter sat a shady old white guy reading a newspaper and working on a donut.
He looked up over his glasses.
“Buying or selling?” he asked in accented Chinese.
“Selling,” Levi said in English.
“Don Quixote Cervantes told me to come here.”
Lyon paused, then snorted.
The laugh of someone hearing the neighborhood idiot’s name.
“Him again.
Haven’t seen that fool in a while.
Still reading knight books?”
“He’s working two jobs now,” Levi said.
“Doesn’t have time.”
“Still trying to earn clean money… what an idiot.” Lyon pulled out a magnifying glass.
“What’re you selling?
Phone?
Something else?”
Levi set the gold coin on the counter.
“Commemorative coin from a game.
Pure gold.
Give me a price.”
Lyon examined it, muttered, “Weird minting… doesn’t look antique.”
He scratched the edge with acid, dropped some on.
The mark didn’t react.
It just got brighter under the light.
“High purity.
24k.
Five grams,” he said.
“No stamp, no paperwork.
I can only do thirty percent of spot.”
“Gold’s eighty a gram.
You’re offering a hundred twenty?” Levi said.
“That’s a hell of a haircut.”
Lyon smirked.
“Proof of purchase?
Official hallmarks?
How do I know this isn’t hot?
I’m already being generous because of Don Quixote.
Normally I’d only go twenty-five percent.”
Levi took a breath.
Clear rip-off on a kid with no connections.
This was gold, not some depreciating gadget.
Real shops would give ninety percent easy.
He checked the skill he’d drawn yesterday.
[Skill: Clumsy Eloquence]
[Effect: 50% chance to convince greedy people with weak willpower.]
A soft ding sounded in his head.
Lyon’s face shifted.
He sat up straight and smacked his fist into his palm, eyes lighting up.
“I knew it!” he barked.
“You’re right!”
Levi blinked.
It actually worked?
He pushed anyway.
“This is limited edition.
Only a thousand made worldwide.”
Lyon picked the coin up again, turning it slowly.
“No wonder the work’s so clean,” he said, voice dreamy.
“So you’re saying it’s got real collector value?”
“Damn right,” Levi said, getting bolder.
“Game’s launching in North America soon.
These are gonna move for serious money on eBay and Amazon.”
“I see… I see…” Lyon bought every word.
He studied the coin harder with the glass.
“So… you still want to sell?”
Levi needed cash now.
Couldn’t eat a gold coin, and without paperwork he couldn’t go legit anyway.
“If I didn’t need money I wouldn’t be here,” he said.
“Name your price.”
Lyon muttered to himself for a long moment, then decided.
“Three hundred work for you?”
Levi shook his head.
Even at three hundred the goblin was still making money.
The quest wanted him to feel the sting of an actual loss.