Chapter 4: I Said You Slipped, Are You Deaf?

Azeroth: Becoming a God by Rolling Dice

Grease?

[New Main Quest Unlocked]

[Main Quest Name: Paladin Trial

Excellent. With a robust physique secured, one can consider a class change.

Come, demonstrate your virtues to me. Let's see if you have the potential to be a Paladin.

Quest Objective: Save a lost lamb, 0/1

Quest Reward: 5 Constitution Attribute Points, 1 random low-level spell]

Before Alan could examine the new quest in detail, the reward from the previous quest—the Strength attribute points—arrived.

[Strength 7] → [Strength 12]! (Big Muscle Bro! Big Muscle Bro!)

A soft, flowing light seemed to shimmer around his body for an instant before vanishing. Alan felt a surge of power, vast and seemingly inexhaustible, the likes of which he hadn't experienced since his life before transmigration.

Power! Is this power?!

Where are the monsters?! I want to fight ten!!!

"Innkeeper Farley! Where are you?!"

However, the pitch-black inn was deathly quiet, with no response from Farley to be heard.

A flash of lightning momentarily illuminated the inn's first floor. In the stark, pale light, Alan vaguely saw a figure on the staircase.

Seizing the fading afterglow of the lightning, he quickly located an oil lamp. Once the room plunged back into darkness, he groped his way over and picked it up.

Before he could even figure out how to relight it, the lamp ignited on its own.

Holding the lamp in one hand and his short sword in the other, Alan's heart pounded wildly as he cautiously approached the staircase.

Reaching the stairs and looking up, the hazy lamplight revealed a figure lying on the upper steps. Perched atop that figure was a smaller, more delicate silhouette, crouched like a beast, seemingly gnawing on something.

The person lying down was Innkeeper Farley!

Alan recognized his shoes. Without a moment's hesitation, he raised his short sword, held his breath, and charged up the stairs.

Just as Alan was about to thrust his sword into the back of the small figure, the prone Farley suddenly sat bolt upright. The small figure crouched on him let out a soft, startled shriek and launched itself like a projectile, slamming directly into Alan's face.

Alan was knocked to the floor. Struggling to open his eyes, he could only see white fabric. Then, he felt the thing on his face stand up, and a pair of small feet clad in white lace socks stepped squarely on his face.

Looking further up, he saw a small face with deep blue eyes and sky-blue hair.

"Ah! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!"

Stella hurriedly jumped off Alan's face and threw herself into a prostrate apology at lightning speed.

Only then did Alan get a clear look. The small figure was actually a female Gnome, a fantastical race of Azeroth.

"Who are you? What were you doing on Mr. Farley just now?"

Stella, still on the floor, quickly lifted her head to explain, "Don't kill me! My name is Stella. I'm staying at the Lion's Pride. Just now, I was using this... a Goblin Jumper Cable, to try and save Mr. Farley's life!"

As she spoke, she held up a small device with both hands. Alan finally saw her face clearly—innocent, pure, and pitifully charming.

"You're a Gnome. How do you know how to use a Goblin Jumper Cable, an engineering product of Goblin technology?!"

Gnomes and Goblins are two completely different races, and Gnome engineering and Goblin engineering are famously incompatible.

"Young Master Prestor, stay your blade! Stella really is a long-term guest here!"

Farley, who was gasping for breath, felt Alan's hostility and hurriedly scrambled up to vouch for her. "She's been staying with us for a week. While it is strange for a Gnome to be studying Goblin tech, she hasn't caused any trouble..."

Here, Farley paused, "...aside from not paying her room bill."

Hearing this, Stella deeply buried her little blue-haired head again. Her twin-tails swayed as if expressing apology.

"Forget that for now, Mr. Farley. Are you alright? What happened just now?"

"Just now... I saw a faint shadow, was about to fire my gun, and then a ferocious, clawing ghost pounced right onto my face... Then I woke up and saw you two."

Hearing this, Stella finally got up from the floor. Her eyes sparkling with excitement, she looked at the innkeeper, Farley. "Mr. Farley, so you're saying the Lion's Pride Inn really is haunted? In that case, could my room fee be reduced..."

Farley sighed helplessly, massaging his forehead. "Stella, a haunted inn is not a valid reason for free room and board... Fine. Considering you just saved me, your tab... is cleared."

Stella's expression went from hopeful, to drooping in disappointment, and then lit up with stars again. "Really, Mr. Farley? You're the best!"

"Wait a minute. Is now really the time for this? If there really is a ghost here, how are we supposed to survive?"

Alan inopportunely interrupted Stella, who was being cute. His legendary life as Alan Prestor had only just begun. He couldn't let it end here in Goldshire, especially not in the Lion's Pride Inn.

Ayy!!!!!!

A piercing shriek suddenly came from upstairs. The three exchanged glances. Stella suddenly raised her hand. "I'll be the vanguard!"

Then she pulled out two round objects and charged upstairs with a "Wah-yah-yah!" shout.

Alan hurriedly followed. "Danger! Be careful!"

Farley was even more horrified. "Stella, you are NOT to use Goblin Grenades in here!"

Stella, who had charged to the second floor, had already spotted a ferocious, menacing ghost. Alan, close behind, also saw it—a pale, sinister female specter, looking very much like the "Banshee" unit from the game.

Hearing Farley forbid her from throwing grenades, Stella hesitated for a split second. Then her feet slipped out from under her, and she fell flat on the floor in a classic slip-on-nothing.

The Banshee shrieked, claws outstretched, and pounced towards Stella.

Farley fired immediately. Sparks flew, but the bullet passed straight through the Banshee's translucent body.

In that split second, Alan had no time to think about what was reasonable. He instinctively used the only offensive spell he currently knew.

Grease!

Alan raised his sword and rapidly recited an incantation that seemed to be naturally etched into his mind.

「Visk’lun thraz’ak!」

Immediately after, a large glob of lard fell from the sky, splattering across the second-floor hallway.

「Saving Throw: 1 point, Critical Failure」

「Although you have no legs, nor even a physical body, the greasy floor disgusts you to the point of convulsions, causing your magnetic field to go haywire, and thus you inadvertently slip and fall.」

Under the watchful eyes of everyone, the Banshee, as if performing a mime act, slipped mid-charge and fell flat on its face.

Farley was dumbfounded. That worked? A ghost can slip? What kind of spell is this?

Alan hurried over, wanting to help Stella up...

But then he heard a thud!

Alan had slipped and fallen too.

Because the lard had spread. Farley, not looking carefully, moved forward to pull the two up and make a run for it...

Another thud!

Farley also slipped and fell.