Daniel Newwyn

[I am a Table] Chapter 47

I don’t think ‘hut’ is quite the right word for this.

The structure before them looked like a potter’s shack made of cobbled-together planks and mud-brick. The roof sagged under the weight of what looked like hundreds of spoons tied together with twine that clanked like a deranged wind chime under the slightest whiff of wind. More spoons, and bigger ones at that, were nailed to the door, forming a sort of decorative spiral.

A sign hung from a rusted chain. It read:

“MASTER SPORCHIDE – SAGE OF THE SACRED SPOON – HUT 25. TRESPASSERS WILL BE FLATTENED.”

Hut 25? How many huts does this sage have?

No grushkin said a word when they arrived. Blorbo stole a glance at them, and they looked terrified. Even the calmest one, who had been the least shrill throughout this entire mess, was now gripping the edge of the wagon. Are they that scared of a bonk on the head?

Anders was the first to jump off the wagon. “If this fool truly has the ability to track all kitchenware, he better not waste our time.”

Rob dismounted, checked his sword, and exhaled. “Let’s knock.”

Before he was able to knock, however, a low, prolonged creak echoed from inside. Then, the door opened.

A shadowed figure stood at the threshold.

The only thing immediately visible was the spoon.

And it was huge.

Like, as big as a grown man’s leg huge.

It wasn’t even a normal spoon. A strange luster danced along the wooden surface, and bizarre carvings coiled up its length like arcane script. It throbbed with a kind of energy that no spoon should ever possess.

[NEW QUEST AVAILABLE: The Utensil of Unfathomable Power]

Objective: Learn the true nature of the enchanted spoon.

Reward: +2 PER, +1 AGI, “Sage’s Insight” (Temporary Buff: Increases comprehension of magical artifacts by 10% for the next hour).

Prerequisite: None.

Failure: None.

Accept: Yes/No

What’s a Temporary Buff? Do I have to use it right away upon receiving it?

Another status showed up.

[No. Use it whenever.]

Huh? A normal quest? No ridiculous prerequisites or crazy failure penalties?

[Ridiculous prerequisites have never been given. It shall be a feature from here onwards.]

Wait! I—

All notifications had disappeared, leaving only the quest screen.

Can’t even think or have a silent opinion nowadays!

The grushkins shuddered in unison.

“M-Master Sporchide…” one of them croaked.

The figure finally stepped forward into the light.

Despite his modest height—barely reaching Lena’s shoulders—there was something about him that pressed down on the space around him. His robe was a mismatched quilt of old sacks and table linens. A thick rope cinched it at the waist, and an entire collection of kitchen utensils rattled against his side.

This guy’s wack.

Other than that, he was every bit what Blorbo would expect from an orc: green, broad-shouldered, thick-skinned, and built like someone who could rip a tree in half if the mood struck him.

“What do you want?” He said in a thick voice.

Lena cleared her throat and took a step forward. “Right! Um. Master Sporchide, we need your help.” She gestured vaguely at the grushkins. “They said you have the ability to locate any kitchenware?”

Sporchide’s gaze shifted from Lena to the trembling grushkins. He inhaled, then hefted his colossal spoon onto his shoulder as though it were a battle-worn club. The wooden planks groaned beneath its sheer weight.

“You tied up my minions,” he said. “And what makes you think I’d offer it to you?”

Anders strode forward and demanded, “Enough of this nonsense. If you truly possess the ability to track kitchenware, then you will do so. Now.”

“You demand of me? You will pay.” Sporchide exhaled. Then, he raised his colossal spoon. With a single motion, Sporchide traced a slow arc through the air with the spoon, and…

Tiny bubbles drifted from its surface. They looked like tiny rainbows as they lazily floated in the air.

Is that dish soap?

“That guy’s gonna hit us with the power of dirty dishes.” Ducaz snorted. However, the grushkins next to Blorbo shivered like mad.

Anders stiffened. His pupils shrank. “Move.”

He waved both his hands, and a gust of wind knocked every one else several steps backward, out of the way of the first bubble.

Pop.

The sound was delicate, almost musical.

Then the floorboards exploded.

A concussive blast of force erupted from where the bubble had been. Dust rained from the ceiling. The wooden planks cracked beneath the impact and fractured into jagged shards.

Lena yelped as she regained her balance. “What?!”

Rob immediately unsheathed his sword. 

Ducaz, who had miraculously retreated behind the wagon, stuck his head out. “Oh, that is not just dish soap.”

Anders gritted his teeth. “Of course it’s not.”

What the hell was that? Who in their right mind weaponizes SOAP BUBBLES?

Sporchide twirled his massive spoon, his eyes gleaming with something just shy of amusement. “A mere gust-wielder dares to challenge me?”

“Nobody interfere.” Anders scowled. His hands moved in perfect coordination, and a sharp current of wind whipped toward Sporchide’s spoon. The cluster of bubbles were hurtled back toward their creator.

Pop. Pop. Pop.

Sporchide’s arm blurred as he struck each bubble before it could detonate. Blorbo expected a wild explosion like with the first bubble, but the moment his spoon made contact, the energy of the blast was siphoned into the wood and reduced to nothingness as the eerie carvings along its surface glowed green.

“You play with wind,” Sporchide mused, barely glancing up. “A simple, straightforward element. Predictable.”

Anders didn’t respond. He snapped his fingers, and another burst of wind sliced through the air. It caught an entire cluster of bubbles and spun them in an erratic, spiraling trajectory back at Sporchide.

“So cool!” Lena clapped her hands together.

Damn. And Anders said he was only able to cast Basic-level spells to avoid detection. Basic-level spells already looked THAT cool?

The Spoon Sage met every single rogue bubble with an exact strike. The moment each one was popped, his stance didn’t so much as falter.

“You call that an attack?” Sporchide rumbled as he countered. With a plant of his feet, the carved symbols along its handle pulsed once. Then, he took from his back pocket not one, not two, but THREE cabbages. With a single upward sweep, he sent a shimmering wave of cabbage soup through the air.

But it wasn’t just soup.

The force of the spell sent whole cabbages flying—spinning wildly like botanical cannonballs. They whistled through the air at terrifying speeds, some of them exploding into shreds of leafy debris mid-flight. The soup itself surged forward in a thick, rolling tide, steaming with dangerous intent.

The hut groaned as the spell tore across the floor, rattling planks and shaking walls, the scent of overboiled greens filling the battlefield.

Yuck! I’m about to puke!

Anders narrowed his eyes. “Ridiculous,” he muttered.

Then he rolled his wrist. A sharp gust of wind burst forth, slicing through the tidal wave of soup and splitting it apart before it could reach him. The cabbages, however, were still very much airborne—spinning, whistling, hurtling toward him.

Anders swept his arms in a sharp arc. Wind coalesced around his hands, shaping itself into a long, weightless force. Like a bat made of pure air.

Then he swung.

Whap.

A cabbage exploded on impact. The leaves scattered like shrapnel.

WHAP. WHAP. WHAP.

Each strike sent the vegetables flying back the way they came. One cabbage hit another midair, sending both bolting toward Sporchide at double speed.

The Spoon Sage tried to rotate his spoon to block, but—

THUD.

A particularly fat cabbage slammed directly into his face.

The hut went silent.

Anders stood there, perfectly balanced, as a single cabbage leaf fluttered down past his shoulder. “Ridiculous,” he muttered again.

[I am a Table] Chapter 46

Ducaz. Are my eyes tricking me or did he swap the horse he stole for ANOTHER stolen horse?

Ducaz waved at them, his grin wide enough to make any sane person suspicious. “Ah, it’s good to see you all still breathing. Shall we continue?”

Lena squinted at him. “I thought you ran off. Where did you disappear to?”

“I thought you needed a pioneer, so I went ahead and blazed the trail for you,” he said, with an ever-present smile on his face.

Lena narrowed her eyes, but before she could respond, Rob spoke up. “Did you just steal another horse?” He glanced at the new mount, which was indeed different from the one Ducaz had ridden earlier. The horse looked even more skittish than before.

“What? This is still the same fella. We’ve been with each other for years. Right, Richie?” He patted the horse’s neck affectionately, and the poor creature flinched. He swung his leg over the horse and nudged it forward. "Trust me, folks, I know exactly where we’re going. Follow me closely, and we’ll be there in no time.”

Anders, crouching near the edge of the wagon, turned to a grushkin and leaned in with a piercing gaze that made the creature stiffen. “Is this the right direction?” he asked.

The grushkin gulped, glancing nervously at Ducaz, then back at Anders. “Yes, yes! It’s the right way!”

“Don’t ever have to worry about getting lost with me around,” Ducaz boasted. “I’ve been trained by the B-ranked Rogue McGonnell herself, but may I say I have even surpassed her in certain respects! Don’t believe me? McGonnell dreams of becoming the S-ranked legend Wan Cleef, just like me!”

“You’re as good as the S-ranked legend Wan Cleef?” Rob asked.

“No. But I also dream of becoming him,” Ducaz kept his grin on his face as he replied.

Anders' nose wrinkled like he’d just smelled something rancid. “Rogues,” he muttered under his breath.

Lena, sitting right next to him, whispered back, “What’s wrong with Rogues?” she whispered back.

Anders let out a quiet scoff. “They’re a pack of thieves. You know how they like to boast about their ‘legendary’ figures? Wan Cleef?” He snorted. “Lucked out. Got famous because he stole some feather and survived a duel against the Archmage of Chickenthorpe—”

Lena blinked. “The what now?”

“You don’t need to know more than that,” he waved his hand.

The path narrowed as they continued. It got suspiciously quiet at one point. The birds stopped chirping and even the leaves stopped rustling. The trees arched to form a subtle enclosure, while the ground lay eerily undisturbed, as if no footsteps had ever touched it. 

This feels odd.

Rob grabbed his shortsword, and Anders eyed Lena in mutual understanding.

Then the path ended.

Or at least, that was what it looked like.

A massive rockface loomed ahead, stretching endlessly on either side. Ducaz, however, didn’t break stride. “Ah, here we are!” he announced cheerily, swinging off his horse.

Lena gave him a flat look. “You brought us to a wall.”

Ducaz only snorted as he drew a thin dagger from the pocket under his belt. “Watch and learn.”

He twirled the dagger in his fingers, then jumped down from the horse and stabbed the dagger into the rockface.

The moment the blade made contact, the illusion ripped. Like fabric being torn, the image of the stone wall split down the middle, revealing the real path hidden beneath: a winding trail descending into a mist-laden hollow, but still wide enough for a wagon to pass through.

What the heck?

“Not a bad spell for an orc,” Anders whispered.

“A cloaking spell,” Ducaz said as he made another stab, tearing the wall further. 

These people can literally magic walls into existence, while I still have to abide by gravity?

“Stop stabbing!” A grushkin cried out.

“The Sage is going to bonk us with a spoon if it rips!” Another grushkin bawled.

Anders slapped on both grushkins head. “Quiet! It’s already ripped. Doesn’t matter if it rips more.”

Lena whistled. “Oooh. That’s some fancy magic. I wanna learn that one!”

“It’s designed to fool the eye. You wouldn’t know if you didn’t check with something stabby. I am trained by a B-ranked Rogue, so I know a thing or two,” Ducaz said smugly.

“Surpassed,” Rob reminded him.

“Indeed.”

In the moment of silence that followed, a rustling sound cut through the air.

Everyone turned just in time to see Ducaz’s horse bolting full speed in the opposite direction, tail high, hooves pounding the earth as it vanished into the trees.

Ducaz, still holding the dagger triumphantly, let out a half-yell. “Mikey!”

Wasn’t his name Richie?

Lena stared. “So much for years of companionship.”

Ducaz cleared his throat, tucking the dagger away. “A necessary sacrifice.”

Anders laughed once. “Rogues getting what they deserve.”

They pushed forward. The deeper they traveled, the more the scenery shifted. The trees grew taller here, and the branches were thicker with vines. Some of the trunks had odd carvings on them, the kind of odd that didn’t make sense. There was a carving of a donkey kissing a giant dragon on one of the trees. Again.

They passed a rickety wooden bridge that creaked ominously beneath the wagon’s weight. A small wooden sign was nailed to one of the support beams, painted with the words “TROLL BRIDGE – DON’T CROSS WITHOUT PAYING.”

There was no troll.

Just a long-dead pile of bones slumped against a tree stump on the other side, clutching a bowl filled with long-rusted coins.

Lena peered over the wagon’s edge. “Should we leave something?”

Rob barely spared the remains a glance. “It’s not like he’s going to collect it.”

Ducaz, walking alongside them now that his horse had tactically retreated, had already bent down to pick up the grunt. “Consider it a toll refund.”

Anders shook his head. “That’s exactly why people hate Rogues.”

Ducaz just grinned.

They moved forward.

The mist thickened, and the trees became more crooked, their branches forming twisting archways above the path. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted—except it didn’t really sound like a hoot. It sounded too low to be that of a hoot.

The grushkins, still bound and stuck in the wagon, whimpered quietly. “It’s even quieter than the last time I was here,” one of them muttered. 

“The Sage won’t come here unless he wants to hide,” another one added.

Lena turned to Rob. “How much further?”

Rob turned to Anders, who turned to Ducaz, who turned to the grushkins.

“You think we carry a map?” the first grushkin whined.

“It’s just up ahead, probably,” the second grushkin offered.

“That’s a lot of uncertainty,” Lena muttered.

Then, at last, the path opened into a small clearing.

And there it was.

The Spoon Sage’s hut.

[I am a Table] Chapter 45

The wagon squeaked and the twigs underfoot cracked as Rob guided the horse down a narrower, less-traveled path.

This is probably the right choice, Blorbo begrudgingly admitted to himself. They were already three days behind schedule, and Silverleaf was nothing but a name at this point. For all they knew, he was just another pompous snob like Bimbleton, tossing money around like confetti and overestimating his own taste in furniture.

Lena, sitting at the front of the wagon, stretched her arms. “So, tell me, Mister Grushkin, how far exactly is your boss’s place?”

The grushkin in question was still tied up in Anders’ magically conjured chains, his stubby legs dangling over the wagon’s side. “Still a distance ahead,” he muttered. “We live in the abandoned mill down by the fork in the river.”

Lena perked up. “Oh! I know that place! Rob, remember when we went looking for wild pears and found that creepy old mill? I told you there were weird noises inside.”

“That was five years ago, dear,” Rob answered. “I doubt the noises were made by orcs.”

“O-oh…” the grushkin spoke. “You know that place?”

“Only people who have never left town don’t know.” Lena winked.

“Maybe you misremember it. It’s going to be further than you think!” The grushkin answered a question absolutely nobody asked.

“Yes, yes! You misremembered!” The second grushkin, who had just awoke, immediately chimed in.

“I wouldn’t have known had you not snooped around and told me around it,” Rob said.

Lena narrowed her eyes as the wagon rattled deeper into the woods. The trees thickened, their gnarled roots twisting across the ground like nature’s own tripwires. The sounds of the plain wind had faded behind them, and the path ahead was barely more than an animal trail.

“This is suspiciously deep,” Lena muttered. “I don’t remember the way to the mill being this deep.”

Lena, you idiot! He just spilled it earlier. Need I spell it out for you? You’re being tricked!

A notification popped up.

NEW SIDEQUEST UNLOCKED: A Keen Eye! (2)

Objective: Use your Perception to spot the suspicious hiding figures in the woods.

Reward: +1 PER per suspicious figure spotted.

Failure: None

I knew it, we’re being led into an ambush! Not that it matters! Finally, training that doesn’t involve me getting myself destroyed.

Anders eyed the thickening trees. “How far away from the main road are we?”

Let me see… Nope, nothing. Just leaves. More leaves.

Oh! I see one, I see one! Never mind, nothing suspicious. It’s just a hungry bear.

“Maybe three miles?” Lena mused.

Wait. A hungry bear? Wait, wait, wait, wait…

“Secluded enough,” he replied. Then he moved.

Blorbo barely saw nor heard him. One moment, the old man was seated next to the sacks of cabbages, looking every bit like an aging grump with no energy left to care. The next, his legs bent, his coat flared, and he vaulted off the wagon in a single jump.

What the—

Blorbo didn’t even get to finish the thought before Anders disappeared into the underbrush. He could only hear one rustle of the leaves. One.

Rob pulled the reins and slowed the horse. “Should we—”

Then Anders reappeared.

Not alone.

Two grushkins were tucked under each of his arms. Their tiny legs were still kicking.

“Let me go, let me go, let me go—!” one shrieked, wiggling furiously.

“Shut it,” Anders said flatly. He stomped toward the wagon, his captive grushkins thrashing like fish caught in a net.

[SIDEQUEST FAILED: A Keen Eye (2)]

All suspicious targets have been captured.

Lena blinked rapidly. “D—Dad? What the hell?”

The first grushkin, still tied to the wagon, stared in sheer horror. “H—how did you—?! You’re OLD!”

Anders dumped them onto the ground. “They were waiting to ambush us. Wait here. I’ll deal with the bear.”

“What bear?” She asked. But he’d already darted out of sight.

“Your Dad might be a Stealth Mage, Lena,” Rob told her. “It’s a highly advanced sub-branch of Wind Mage. Still, I didn’t expect him to be that ridi—cough—culously fast.”

“He did say something about stealth the other day.”

A notification showed up.

[NEW SKILL UNLOCKED FROM OBSERVATION: Flow Step (Level 1 Basic-level Skill)]

From observation? I barely saw the old man move!

You have witnessed an experienced practitioner move with near-weightless precision. While stationary, your balance control has slightly improved.

Oh, wow. So I can stand better now. Amazing.

Not long after, Anders emerged from the trees, patting off his sleeves like he’d just finished a casual stroll rather than whatever absolute nonsense he had just pulled.

Rob, reins still in hand, raised a brow. “So? Did you beat the bear?”

Anders scoffed. “Beat it? It’s a bear, Robert. I’m not wasting high-level spells on something that can be scared off with a loud noise.” He waved a hand dismissively. “It was just a sun bear, anyway.”

Lena blinked. “A what bear?”

“A sun bear.” Anders climbed back onto the wagon, exhaling like he’d just had to deal with children. “They’re small. They’re stupid. They have no idea how to process loud noises, so I just yelled at it and made myself look big until it ran away.”

Blorbo could only stare. That’s it? That’s all it takes?

A question mark appeared atop Rob’s head. Blorbo clicked on it.

[NEW SIDEQUEST AVAILABLE: Sun Bear Diplomacy]
 Objective: Repel a sun bear with your words alone.
 Reward: +1 PER, “Bear Whisperer” Title.
 Failure: The bear does not leave.

Accept: YES/NO

Wait. This wasn’t supposed to be a quest for me to take. I have no mouth. It’s probably supposed to be for Anders.

The old man’s so quick he finished the quest before it appeared.

Anders jumped into the wagon and immediately turned a sharp eye toward the bound grushkins. “Alright. Enough playing dumb. Where’s the Spoon Sage?”

The grushkins exchanged nervous glances.

One of them stammered, “W-we told you! The abandoned mill by the river fork!”

Anders scoffed. “Yeah? And that’s why you were leading us straight into an ambush?” He leaned forward. “Try again, leafheads.”

The second grushkin gulped audibly. “W-we, uh… look, we were just following orders! We were told to stall you!”

“Oh? By who?” Anders asked smoothly, his voice the exact opposite of smooth.

“By the Spoon Sage!” The third grushkin, who had remained mostly silent until now, blurted out.

Anders smirked. “Ah. So he is expecting us.”

The first grushkin squirmed against his chains. “No, no, no, not like that! He doesn’t even know who you are! He just—he just knew someone was coming! He told us to delay any travelers that looked like trouble!”

Anders let that sink in. He tapped his fingers against his knee, nodding slowly, as if considering his next move. Then he lunged forward.

The grushkins shrieked in unison. “GAH—OKAY, OKAY! HE’S NOT AT THE MILL! HE MOVED!”

The second one nodded rapidly. “We were supposed to send you the wrong way so you wouldn’t find him!”

“Where?” Anders bared his teeth as he moved his face so close to one of the grushkins.

“This way!” A voice called out from behind. Everybody turned, except for Blorbo because he had no head.

It was Ducaz.

[I am a Table] Chapter 44

Blorbo readjusted his vision and got a good look at the creatures.

They were too small to be the orcs he knew in the games he’d played in his last life (no idea how he suddenly remembered this information), but definitely orc-adjacent. A goblin-like species that looked like they possssed horrible decision-making skills, uncanny ability to be both cowardly and aggressive at the same time, and an unfortunate instinct to always double down on bad ideas.

He had no idea what these creatures were called.

“Grushkins!” Lena exclaimed. Well, that answers it. “So cute! Look at those tiny green little limbs!”

Short, stocky, and sporting rough, bristly greenish-brown skin, the Grushkins had oversized, bat-like ears and small tusks poking out of their lower jaws. Their eyes were beady, their fingers stubby, and their heads? Way too big for their bodies.

“Cute? We are not to be called cute. We are robbers!” The one who had just been kicked away scrambled to its legs, holding its frightening weapon of choice—a stick.

Rob stepped down from the wagon, hands at his sides, and addressed them like one might address a misbehaving farmhand. “Listen, we’re just passing through. You don’t want to do this.”

The Grushkins looked at each other. Then, in unison, they cackled.

“Oh, yes we do!” the first one howled.

“Ya can’t tell us what we don’t wanna do, tall man!” the second one sneered.

Rob replied, “May I ask—” Before Rob could react, they crouched down and sprang into action.

They literally sprang. The second one jumped onto the first one’s shoulders, launching himself high into the air, flipping over Rob’s head gracelessly and landing directly on the wagon.

Rob turned. “Hey—”

The first one followed suit, springboarding off the ground and using his companion’s head as a stepping stone to launch himself up. He flailed wildly before crashing onto the sacks of cabbages.

“Aha!” the second one cheered. “WE’RE IN!”

Lena turned around and stared at the grushkins. Her hand reached inside of her pocket and grabbed the tiny wand, but then stopped dead in her track. Surely she couldn’t risk using magic in front of her father.

Her very useful father, on the other hand, could only yell curses.

Well, at least we still have our professional escort watching over the back. His superior AGI surely can help us catch these little gremlins.

Wait. Where’s Ducaz?

Ducaz had used his superior AGI to mysteriously vanish from existence.

Rob ran to the back of the wagon. “Stay put. I’ll handle it.” Then, he reached behind him, removed the cloth, and unseathed the sword Priest Zukaman had given him.

“Sword?” The first grushkin inquired.

“Sword!” The second grushkin growled.

The scrambled their way out of the wagon immediately and repeatedly kicked Blorbo in the process.

[-0 HP]

Watch where you’re going, you gremlins!

The cat, who was sleeping soundly atop Blorbo, jumped from the sudden movement. It instinctively swiped the first grushkin, and he dropped on his feet, unconscious. One hit knock-out.

Wow. Is this cat an invincible god or are these creatures actual jokes?

Suddenly, a metal chain appeared from thin air, wrapped around the first grushkin, and tied it neatly on the ground.

“Dad,” Lena whispered to Anders, “Did you cast a chain spell?”

Anders nodded. “I can cast spells if there’s no witness.”

“You can sneakily conjure a spell to chain the one still running then, right?”

The man grumbled. “Fine. Where’s it?”

The second grushkin accidentally kicked on the side of the wagon as he jumped down, and Blorbo—who had, until now, been a very normal and stationary table—was pushed off balance.

He tipped.

He fell.

And then—

He started rolling down the slope.

[-1 HP]

[-1 HP]

Straight toward the fleeing Grushkin.

“Why is it moving?” It screamed.

It ran for its life, but were tragically too stupid to just step aside. Instead of dodging, it just kept sprinting in a straight line as Blorbo rolled relentlessly behind it. Of course, Blorbo, not being a round object, kept bumping its corners as it bounced up and down.

[-1 HP]

Somebody stop me! I’m hurt!

A status screen blinked before Blorbo’s vision.

[TRAINING REGIME ESTABLISHED: -1 STR temporarily]

Objective: Roll over a Grushkin. +3 STR for each Grushkin rolled over.

[Grushkin count: 0/1]

What? This is training? You think this is a game—[-1 HP]—don’t you? Ouch!

“No!” The Grushkin wailed as Blorbo gained on it, bouncing like a tumbleweed. 

The Grushkin tripped on its own feet, and Blorbo collided headfirst into it.

[+3 STR]

[Grushkin count: 1/1]

[TRAINING COMPLETED—1 STR returned]

[-1 HP]

Ow! That was NOT worth it.

The impact sent the Grushkin tumbling face-first into the dirt, dazed but still conscious. “Ghk—ACK! HELP! HELP! I won’t steal from people ”

Before it could scramble back up, a second metal chain materialized out of thin air, snapping around its arms and legs.

Lena turned to him. “Oh, now you do it? What happened to the Archmage from the Order having their all-seeing eyes on you?”

“Nobody saw the magic.” he replied. As long as they’re basic-level non-specific spells, I might get away with it.”

The grushkin rolled around and thrashed against its bindings, but all the flailing in the air was useless against actual magic.

It growled, “Release me, you filthy humans! If the sage finds out you tied one of his underlings like a hog, you’re gonna get it!”

Wait. Sage?

Lena’s head perked up. “Wait. Sage? It’s not talking about the herb, is it?”

Rob walked over to it and placed the bottom of his boots on the chain. “Speak. Who sent you?”

The grushkin snorted. “You think I’m afraid of you just because you’re tall? Ha! I’ll never talk!”

Rob pointed the tip of his sword at it.

“SPORCHIDE THE SPOON SAGE!” it shrieked, sobbing violently. “I’m sorry! Please let me go! He said he wanted me to retrieve some kitchenware for him, and we reckoned the best way to do it is to rob some human wagons! Please, we’ve made a mistake. We won’t ever rob you again. We will only rob elderly people and children!”

“Spoon Sage?!” Anders echoed with a voice full of actual interest for the first time all morning.

Spoon what now? That is the most ridiculously useless type of Sage I’ve ever heard.

“Absolutely marvelous! Just what we need!” Anders leaned back, then walked across the wagon, marching toward the grushkin in excitement.

Blorbo gawked. Excuse me?

“What?” Lena blinked. “Why?”

“You don’t know?” Anders gave her a look of utmost disappointment. “High-level Spoon Sages have the ability to detect the location of any kitchenware they want.”

Lena slow-blinked. “That’s… not even remotely useful.”

“Not useful?” Anders looked genuinely offended. “That’s an elite tracking ability. A powerful Spoon Sage can pinpoint the exact location of a single silver spoon in a palace treasury! With this powerful ability, we can easily find our knife collection!”

What? WHO IS TRAINING FOR THIS ABILITY. WHO NEEDS THIS IN THEIR LIFE.

“Your knife collection, Dad,” Lena corrected him.

Rob sighed. “Let’s get back to the problem at hand.” He move the tip of his sword closer toward the grushkin’s head. “Tell me. Where’s the spoon sage?”

[I am a Table] Chapter 43

It was finally the day of the trip out of town. Anders had been in peak form, grumbling all morning about how long it’d taken them to finally get going, and how his collection of fine knives could’ve fallen to the hands of some greasy baron who was probably unwittingly hanging them atop a reindeer head like some sort of trophy.

The sun had soundly risen when Rob secured the last of their supplies onto the wagon and tightened the ropes. Lena, meanwhile, was busy running through a mental checklist, occasionally mumbling things like “Do we have enough snacks?” and “What if the horse gets bored?” Tabby and Blorbo, of course, were to follow, because why not add an extra cat and a table into the list of cargo while they were at it.

Lena, choosing to ignore Anders’ endless complaints, clapped her hands together. “Alright! We’re finally all set! Everyone on board!”

Anders huffed but climbed onto the wagon anyway, making a point to sit as far from the sacks of cabbages as possible. Blorbo, unfortunately, had no such luxury.

Having a horse wagon made their trip much faster. It took them three hours to reach the outskirts of town, marked by a wooden sign in red ink ‘GOODBEY! DO NOT COME BACK!” that was clearly smeared over whatever had once been carved beneath it.

Anders groaned as the wagon hit another bump in the road. “This is taking forever. Why is the horse moving so damn slow? If I could use my magic, I would’ve been in Nokia by now. Half an hour, tops.”

Well, Anders, if you had been a little better at keeping your money, maybe you wouldn’t be relying on your children to buy you a horse.

Hurried clatters of hooves approached from behind, and just as Lena turned to look, a familiar voice rang out, “My, my, what a lovely morning for a journey!”

Oh no.

Ducaz trotted past them atop what was very clearly a stolen horse. The saddle didn’t match, the reins looked hastily tied, and the horse itself bore the kind of expression that suggested it had just been roped into some long-term scam against its will.

At least it’s not that blasted mage.

Ducaz had the kind of face that made one instinctively check their pockets. His dark and slightly greasy hair curled just enough at the edges to look effortlessly unkempt, and his cheeky grin was perpetually present. To be completely fair, he was handsome—but only in the way a chrysanthemum was handsome. You would not trust that man with your luggage, even if he’d only charge 3 shillings for his service.

Upon spotting Lena and Rob, Ducaz flashed his most charming grin and yanked the reins. The horse spun sideway before he was able to readjust the rein and kept it heading forward. “Fancy running into you fine travelers! Say, how about a professional escort service for the low, low price of 50 shillings?”

Rob frowned. “You’re trying to get money off of us for simply going in the same direction as you.”

Anders scoffed, loud and irritated. “Get lost, con man! We don’t need any escort service, especially not from some second-rate scammer on a—” He squinted at the horse. “—questionably acquired mount.”

Ducaz put a hand over his heart. “Second-rate? Sir, I’ll have you know I’m a premium-tier ethical laborer.” He tugged too hard at the horse. The horse overcorrected, and he immediately spun a perfect 360 degrees beneath the horse then popping back up into the saddle, dropping a slipper along the way. “Woah, woah! I make my money by doing entertaining and intentional horse tricks, you see. By the way, Robert, how does one get off a horse? I need to get my slipper.”

“Just use this.” Rob threw him an elongated stick.

Lena reached out and gripped Anders’ sleeve before he could yell anything else. “Shh, Dad. Think about it,” she whispered. “This man is a man of sneaky talents.”

Anders raised a brow. “Sneaky talents?”

“He gets around. If we play this right, he might help us find your knives,” Lena murmured. “As long as we don’t tell him exactly what we’re looking for.” She stole a glance at Ducaz. “If he finds out, he’s gonna squeeze every last shilling out of us before lifting a single finger.”

Anders narrowed his eyes at Ducaz, who was trying to fetch his slipper with the stick.

“Fine,” Anders rumbled. “But if he so much as tries to sell me a horse mid-ride, I’m throwing him off it.”

A Quest showed up.

[Sidequest Available—The Perfect Scam (1)]

Objective: Sell Anders a horse.

Reward: +19 EXP, +7 PER, +2 AGI, One Free Rare Mystery Coupon (Redeemable at a Later Date for Something Useful)

Prerequisite: Must have a horse. Otherwise you must sell someone else’s horse.

Failure: Anders gets mad. (Again.) The horse remains unsold.

The Perfect Scam ONE? You really want me to go down this fraudulent path? Not “Find the Lost Knives,” not “Uncover Ducaz’s Shady Business Practices,” but SCAM THE OLD MAN INTO BUYING A HORSE?

Meanwhile, Ducaz, still prodding at his slipper with the stick, whispered with a voice so low Blorbo was shocked he could hear, “I swear, the moment I get this back, I’m selling this horse for a profit.” Maybe he’d realized there was no way to get the slipper with that stick he was holding, so he instead just pinned the slipper to the dirt and dragged it along.

What? Ducaz was about to sell the very horse he’s currently riding? The system really had the gall to turn this into a quest?!

Well, I mean… There’s no real punishment for failure. I don’t give a hoot about Anders mental state.

He willed himself to click YES.

The moment he clicked YES, the bush in front of them rustled. Ducaz stopped his horse and immediately snuck behind the wagon for cover.

“Stop right there! You have been ambushed!” The bush spoke in a low, constricted voice.

“Uh… Boss? We need to jump out and block the way.” The bush now spoke in a slightly higher voice.

“Oh, yeah. Like how bandits do.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. On the count of three. One, two, three!”

Then a creature jumped out of the bush, all the while growling, “Stop right there! You have been ambushed!”

The owner of the slightly higher voice only now jumped out, kicked the first creature out of sight before Blorbo could catch sight of the first creature. “Yeah! Give us all you have!”

[I am a Table] Chapter 42

Rob and Lena arrived at the robed mage’s hideout as the last remnants of daylight faded into a deep indigo.

Rob pulled the reins, bringing the horse to a halt near the entrance. “We tie it here.”

Lena hopped down, dusting her clothes before reaching to secure the rope. The grass here was ridiculously high—so high, in fact, that it reached up to the horse’s ankles. It gave a slow, thoughtful blink, looked down at the feast surrounding it, and promptly started eating.

Lena frowned. “Uh, is that okay?”

Rob sighed. “It’s a horse, Lena.”

“I know, but what if it gets a stomachache? What if this is cursed grass?”

“Then it’s a cursed horse now,” Rob said flatly.

Blorbo, sitting atop the wagon like the most useless piece of luggage, watched as Lena poked at the grass experimentally before turning back toward the hideout. The wood was swollen, leaned to one side against the rusted hinges. The old, crooked sign still read Liquidity, and the warped wooden door still looked like it had been in a long-term abusive relationship with humidity. 

Lena squinted at it. “Huh. Looks worse than last time.”

Rob huffed. “So this is the place you went to alone that time? Have you no care for your own safety?”

“Like I said, I was with Blorbo!”

She’s safe with me, don’t worry! I can walk faster than a snail now.

Rob just sighed.

Lena asked, “Do we knock?”

Rob said. “You might knock the door off if you do.”

A gust of wind whooshed past them.

Twump.

The robed mage dramatically jumped down from the roof.

“Zere is no need to knock,” heannounced, sweeping his arms out. “For I have anticipated your arrival!”

Lena clutched her chest. “Lords above! Why were you on the roof?”

“I sensed ze disturbance in ze air,” the mage continued as he flicked his sleeve. A pigeon flew out of the sleeve. “Ze winds whisper to me. Ze currents of magic shift in your presence.”

Did he just summon a pigeon for no reason?

“Come! Ze path to magical enlightenment awaits!” He raised a single hand, and as they followed him inside, torches along the walls lit up one by one—except for one, which flared pitifully before going out again.

The mage coughed. “A minor… atmospheric malfunction.”

The moment the torch fizzled out, a system notification blinked into view.

[Sidequest Available—The Flickering Flame]
Objective: Light up the malfunctioning torch. Somehow.
Reward: +1 PER, +1 END, Epic Mystery Box (Containing: 70% chance to get a Basic item, 20% Rare, 10% Epic)
Prerequisite: 30 PER (You currently have: 19 PER)
Failure: The torch stays unlit.

Oh come on! What kind of absolutely arbitrary nonsense was this? Why is lighting a torch, a task that requires all the magical effort of a matchstick, locked behind 30 PER?

And why does it offer an Epic Mystery Box as a reward?! That’s the kind of loot you’d get from banishing a Candy Dragon Queen, not fumbling around with medieval mood lighting!

There was only one way he could reach 30 PER.

Cabbage Points.

Blorbo knew full well how painfully difficult it was to earn those. Cabbage Points were a currency granted by the system whenever he physically ATE a cabbage. Otherwise he could only earn them through quests.

Was he really about to gamble his precious, hard-earned points just to light a stupid torch?

The system left the choice up to him:

[Spend 11 Cabbage Points to increase PER to 30?]
▶ YES / NO

Blorbo let out the longest, most suffering sigh of his existence. 

Fine. I’ll do it.

He hovered over the YES option, mentally preparing himself for the sheer wastefulness of it all. Eleven Cabbage Points—gone. Eleven Cabbage Points that could’ve been spent on actual survival necessities, like passive stat boosts or resistance to soup-related burns.

With great reluctance, he clicked YES.

Nothing happened.

What?

He clicked again. Nothing.

Wait.

Slowly, hesitantly, he turned his focus toward the torch. The question mark above it had turned grey.

The quest had expired.

THE MOMENT RIGHT BEFORE HE CLICKED YES.

YOU HARLOT-BUTTOCKED FOOL! YOU DARE PLAY ME LIKE THIS? YOU’LL PAY FOR THIS!

The mage, unaware of the cataclysmic betrayal that had just unfolded, had already walked toward his seat.

Lena was looking around. “We agreed on learning the basics, and no more summoning creatures from another realm. So, where do we start?”

With legs crossed and put on his table, the mage spread his arms. “Ah! Ze fundamentals! First, we must examine ze natural inclination of your magical flow.”

Lena straightened her back, eager. “Oh, finally! I was born ready!”

The mage dramatically pointed a single finger at her forehead, then snapped his arm back as if he’d been electrocuted. “Ah-ha! As I suspected! Ze elemental force within you is… ze culinary arts!”

Rob sighed. “Yes, of course.”

“Zis is truly remarkable! Your first spell… will be a grand conjuration! Point your wand forward and repeat after me: Dulcis, Crystallum, Manifest!”

Wait. Why does this specific chant sound so Roman? The other chants were another language.

Lena clapped her hands together, excitement bubbling up. “Yes! Magic time!” She shut her eyes, extended her wand, and chanted with all her might, “Dulcis, Crystallum, Manifest!”

A tiny pop! echoed.

When Lena opened her eyes, a single, perfectly wrapped piece of nougat sat in her palm.

She gasped. “It worked!”

Rob raised a brow. “Whatever shall we do with that?”

Lena tossed the nougat into her mouth with a grin. “Duh. Eat it. If we ever run out of food money, we can munch on free nougat forever.” She chewed it. “Oooh! It tastes like peanut!”

Who needs fireballs when you can outlast a famine?

The mage chimed in, “Zis basic spell yield different results for different class of mages. A Fire Mage might summon a floating spot of fire, for instance.”

“Then what do you summon with that chant?” Rob asked.

“Lots of things,” The mage replied before doing a 360 degree spin. “Now! For other ezzential spells!”

To his credit, the mage actually taught her normal beginner-level spells, such as a weak protective shield for blocking pebbles and aggressive geese, and a beginner-level unlocking spells that can unlock simple non-magical locks. 

Rob gave Lena a pointed look. “This lockpicking skill better not awaken anything in you.”

Lena gasped. “I would never use magic for crime, honeypie.”

To be fair, Rob should’ve had that lockpicking skill if he isn’t such an upstanding citizen.

I have no idea what this banker mage is trying to achieve. Why steal the knives THEN give the daughter the skills so they can be on their way and retrieve the knives you’ve stolen? It makes no sense.

By the time she reached the fourth spell, Lena was riding a high. “Alright, what’s next? Something cool? Something powerful?”

“Ah, zis next one is very important!” The mage waved his hands theatrically. “A light sleep enchantment! Useful for calming down restless spirits, hyperactive children, or simply getting a good nap!”

Lena nodded eagerly. “Oh, that does sound useful.”

“Repeat after me—Saqu Gadoga!”

Lena took a deep breath, focused her energy, pointed her wand forward, and chanted, “Saqu Gadoga!”

Rob raised his voice, “Your wand tip is pointed toward—”

A barely visible twinkle fired toward Lena.

“—yourself.”

She wobbled.

Her eyes drooped.

“Oh,” she swayed. “That’s… cozy…”

She slumped forward, onto Rob’s catching arm with a soft thud.

Rob pinched the bridge of his nose with his other hand. “Of course.”

The mage stroked his chin, nodding sagely. “Ah, ze lightweight.”

Thus, Lena missed out on the other three spells.

Ah, they’re just basic spells! Surely she’s not gonna miss much.

“Alaz! Zuch a shame!” The mage shook his head sagely, peering down at Lena as she was fast asleep with a dumb smile on her face. “Ze next spell was Gawoni Uduliha—a weight-reducing spell zat makes objects easier to carry. Ze second spell was Agiya Woyi—ze Whispering Ear spell! Allows ze user to hear soft conversations from afar! Perfect for eavesdropping on your enemies… or your in-laws. And lastly, Gohwelodi—ze basic mending spell! Small cracks, torn cloth, broken buttons—zey would be no more!”

Of course they are the three most useful spells. But who knows, maybe one day I find myself in need of eating a nougat then take a furniture nap.

[I am a Table] Chapter 41

Oh yeah. This guy. Lena had gone on about him on the way here while Rob barely reacted beyond the occasional grunt.

Zukaman, both Priest and High Keeper of the temple, but preferred to be called Priest. He was also a former Paladin who fought in something called the First Orc-Human War, and probably some overachiever with five more official titles throughout his illustrious career. Retired from the battlefield, now he ran things at the temple, handling prayers, blessings, and training new recruits who, apparently, weren’t nearly as good as the old war-hardened veterans. Lena had rambled for a solid five minutes about how “back in the day,” Paladins were stronger, scarier, and significantly less picky about their diet. But she didn’t live through ‘the day’ herself. She just got told from others.

And now the guy was here, eyes’ sharp as a hawk, standing in front of them. As he loomed in front of the wagon, Blorbo could clearly see the color of his irises: a deep shade of amber golden, darker than those of Rob, but still undeniably golden.

“I can offer a healing prayer,” Zukaman said, voice steady.

Rob, who was still trying to suppress his coughing fit, nodded slightly.

Zukaman lifted his staff, and the crystal glimmered as he murmured something completely intelligible. It wasn’t an overwhelming burst of holy light like Blorbo expected—it was faint, almost like a whisper in the air. A warmth spread through the space, and Rob’s shoulders seemed to relax.

Blorbo was unimpressed. What kind of bootleg healing spell was that? I expect Rob to be completely rid of illnesses now. He should be running ten laps around the temple as we speak!

So yeah. That made sense. The strongest warriors of the Lord of Light couldn’t even heal a cough properly.

Rob cleared his throat, the coughing finally dying down. “Thank you, Priest Zukaman.”

Zukaman nodded, lowering his staff. “I have sent temple keepers to your farm before, but the spells were ineffective, were they not?”

Rob hesitated before giving a stiff nod.

“As expected. Divine blessings for war and battle do not lend themselves well to recovery.” Zukaman turned slightly, glancing at Lena. “I assume you will be departing on your journey soon?”

Wait. Wait wait. Right. The thing Lena had mentioned earlier. Something about how Paladins had the most ridiculously strong offensive blessings for wartime—divine smites, fire beams, holy swords, and no gimmicky food-related aura. But their healing spells were next to useless. He recalled her words perfectly because she had made the most exaggerated wailing sound after saying it: “Imagine being so close to divine power, but it only works when you’re slashing someone’s face off!”

“Tomorrow morning,” Lena said. “We wanted to pray today before we left.”

Zukaman gave a knowing nod, gripping his staff a little tighter. “The Lord of Light always watches over His chosen. The Paladinborn are never forgotten, even when the path before them seems uncertain.”

Rob went silent. His jaw tensed, his gaze shifting downward.

Oh yeah. My boy was REAL thrilled about that one.

The good Lord is really watching over my man Robbie by NOT GIVING HIM ANY PALADIN POWER throughout his lifetime and blessing him with a lung fever instead! Truly, the most divine protection I have ever seen! Last I checked, this man was farming potatoes, not smiting enemies with holy vengeance.

Zukaman studied Rob carefully, as if gauging his silence. Then, with a firm nod, he reached into his robe and pulled out something wrapped in cloth. “I wish you could attend services more often, Robert. I had hoped to give you this under better circumstances, but perhaps now is the time.”

Rob looked up. “What is it?”

“A mean to protect yourself,” Zukaman said. “One of the first I wielded in battle, long before I took up the robes of a Priest. It is outdated, no longer fit for a Paladin at the peak of their strength—but it should provide some protection for a Paladinborn, even one who cannot call upon aura or blessings.”

Blorbo internally howled. Protection? You’re giving my man Robbie a RELIC from the Paladin Discount Bin?!

Lena gasped. “A weapon from the First Human-Orc War? That’s practically a historical artifact!” She patted on Rob’s shoulder. “They didn’t call you the Priest’s favorite for nothing!”

Zukaman’s grip tightened. “It has been reforged and repurposed many times over. It is no relic of great power, but it still holds traces of the blessings it once carried.”

Rob hesitated before slowly reaching out to take it. He pulled back the cloth, revealing…

Blorbo squinted.

A short sword. It was well-maintained but undeniably old looking at its dull edge. The faintest glow pulsed within the metal like a candle running out of wax.

Rob ran a hand over the blade, testing its weight. “Thank you, Priest Zukaman.”

Zumakan cast his eyes to the faraway horizon. “I still remember our sword training sessions. It pains me that things turned out like this. If only I could find out what was blocking your Blessing Path…”

“It’s fine, father. You have done more than enough for me.” Rob smiled.

“I didn’t know… you were a trained swordsman.” Lena looked at Rob.

The priest gave a solemn nod. “May it serve you well. You walk a difficult path, Robert. The Lord may seem distant, but He does not turn His eyes from His own.”

Yeah, sure. The Lord is watching. From the farthest possible vantage point.

Rob quickly wrapped the cloth around the sword again, but before he could, a status table showed up.

[ITEM: Blade of Old Convictions]

Type: One-Handed Sword (Basic)

STR +2

Passive Effect: Divine Intimidation (3%) — Your presence inspires awe in those around you.

Durability: 42/60

A well-worn blade once wielded by a paladin in training. Though outdated, it still carries a faint trace of its former wielder’s conviction.

Hey! Why didn’t this show up for Lena’s wand? I would’ve loved to see how useless that thing is.

Zukaman gave Rob a long, measured look. “It is not the blade that makes the warrior, but the heart that wields it.” He exhaled slowly, then straightened. “Now, I must return to my duties. The temple calls, and the faithful require guidance.”

This man sounds like an NPC…

The priest turned and strode back toward the temple, his gold-threaded robes catching the light of the Everflame.

Lena nudged Rob lightly. “Alright, that’s enough divine wisdom for the day. We need to go see the robed mage before it gets too late. If I’m learning magic, I’d rather not do it while half-asleep.”

Rob shrugged. “How many spells do you think you can learn in one evening?”

“Hopefully two hundreds.” She chuckled.

Blorbo, still stewing over the status table, was about to launch into another internal rant about how the system refused to show him Lena’s wand stats—when something else hit him.

Wait a minute.

Where’s Ducaz?

His vision darted left. Then right.

The con artist was gone.

[I am a Table] Chapter 40

However, the next ten minutes went by without a single passenger so much passing a glance at the makeshift altar, despite the constant bellowing from Ducaz. That made him impatient.

“Business is slow today. These people don’t have nearly enough fate to part with their money!” His brow furrowed. “But worry not. I have a trick or two up my sleeves.”

Ducaz took a deep breath and dropped to his knees as he clasped his hands together in dramatic supplication. “Brothers and sisters! The Lord of Light works in mysterious ways, but today—today, my friends—he speaks clearly!”

What?

He slapped a hand onto Blorbo’s surface. “Behold! The Table of Benediction! Blessed by the temple itself! It is said that those who give offerings upon this sacred altar will receive fortune tenfold!”

[Temporary Aura Upgraded: “Sacred” Presence—Level 2]

When used as an offering table, donations are 29% more likely to be generous.

Are we for real? The scam is so effective that reality just went along with it.

That was enough for a small crowd to gather in front of the altar.

Ducaz’s pleas became more and more melodramatic, “My dear faithful, did you know that the Lord rewards those who test their faith? Indeed! For those who donate without looking at the bowl, their blessings shall be even greater! A true act of selfless giving!”

A woman gasped, clutching her chest. “Such wisdom! Such depth!” She immediately tossed a handful of coins into the bowl without looking.

[Sidequest Progress: 25/100]

Four coins only? At this rate, I’m going to fail the quest!

It’s time for the good ol’ Adjustable Angles.

Blorbo tilted forward by 2 degrees, just enough so that the golden-rimmed bowl caught the sunlight at the perfect angle. A dazzling gleam of holy radiance reflected outward, beaming directly onto the faces of passersby.

The reaction was instant.

“The Light has blessed this offering!” someone whispered.

“Look! The bowl shines! The Lord approves!” A rich-looking noblewoman gasped and threw in 20 copper coins, followed by several others who hurriedly dumped their change into the bowl before the light faded.

[Sidequest Progress: 56/100]

The grin on Ducaz’s face grew wider and wider as each coin was dropped into the bowl. Simply by looking at him, Blorbo understood. This man wasn’t going to stop at anything.

Just when the crowd was dissipating, he stood and declared, “Not yet! Stay for a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! For a large donation of at least twenty copper coins, you shall be granted a private blessing from the Table of Benediction!”

From the what now?

A merchant hesitated. “What kind of blessing?”

“A personalized fortune, straight from the holy wood itself.” He gave Blorbo a hard pat. “The table speaks only to those willing to invest in their future, and I shall be his mouth for today.”

The merchant counted from his purse and tossed in twenty copper coins. “Alright, let’s hear it.”

[Sidequest Progress: 76/100]

Ducaz leaned in so close that his ear practically touched the table. He whispered absolute gibberish into Blorbo, before nodding profusely and stood straight again. “The table said ‘beware of goats’.”

What? Why did you say such a thing? You could’ve said something utterly generic like you might fall ill within the next moon cycle or something.

We’re SO doomed.

“What kind of nonsense is that?” A person behind the merchant asked, but his question was immediately interrupted by the merchant’s cry.

“He speaks truth!” His eyes widened in disbelief. “My neighbor’s goat is very aggressive! I must guard against it this instance!”

The crowd ooh-ed and ahh-ed.

Wait? That works? Oh, wait. Oh. That guy is rich. More likely than not he or his neighbors raise at least a goat.

This Ducaz guy is the real deal.

“Do me! Do me next!” One voice rang out.

“No! Do me! Do me!” Said another.

Yeah, boy. This is going to be the easiest side quest ever.

Then, from the corner of his field of vision, Blorbo saw Lena and Rob. They’ve already done praying? That was like barely time at all! And they’re already walking over to the wagon!

[Sidequest Progress: 96/100]

Great! Ducaz, keep doing whatever you’re doing. I’ll distract the couple!

He focused on the one thing he could control. [Sawdust Puff].

It wasn’t much. In fact, it was nothing. A single, sad little puff of sawdust from the corner of his surface. Lena and Rob were way too far away for this to—

Wait.

A gust of wind swept through the temple grounds. Not just any gust. A freakishly divine gust. The kind that could carry a wayward dove straight into the heavens. The kind that made banners ripple dramatically at just the right moment.

[Sidequest Progress: 116/100]

[SIDEQUEST COMPLETED—The Holy Hustle]
Reward: 15 EXP, +3 PER, “Blessed Surface” Status Effect

Beginner-level Aura gained: “Sacred” Presence— When used as an altar, your presence becomes 17% more convincing

When else am I going to ever be used as an alter apart from now? This is utterly ridiculous!

The sawdust twirled upward, spiraling like a tiny cyclone. It weaved past temple columns, slipped between gaps in the crowd. Through one, two, three, four, five people. It spun through the air like some kind of holy confetti—

—And went directly up Rob’s nose.

Rob violently recoiled, clutching his chest.

What the hell? That was impossible!

“Hrk—!” Rob staggered as his breath hitched and his eyes watered. Then he erupted into a fit of coughing.

“Oh, no! Rob! Your lung fever!” Lena gasped as she reached out to steady him.

He doubled over, hacking like he’d swallowed a fistful of dust—which, well, he kind of had. His face scrunched in pain as his lungs fought to clear themselves.

Ducaz’s ears perked at the sound. His scam artist instincts activated. “Time to go.”

He pocketed the shillings in one swell swoop, clapped his hands together, and declared, “Alas, my brothers and sisters, the Table of Benediction must rest! The divine whispers are fading! The Lord’s wisdom cannot be rushed!”

The crowd let out a collective “Aww,” but nodded solemnly and quickly dissipate.

A few temple keepers had started to glance in his direction, probably suspicious, so Ducaz threw in some extra dramatics. “Go forth! Take these blessings with you! But do not despair! Perhaps the sacred table will return another day!”

Ducaz didn’t even wait to see their reaction. He grabbed Blorbo by the legs, yanked him off the ground, and flung him back onto the wagon with perfect precision. As he flew mid-air, Blorbo caught a glimpse of a familiar figure.

The robed mage, staring at him with grinning eyes.

It all makes sense now. That wind was magic! He purposefully used divine magic to make the sawdust fly up Rob’s nose!

Ducaz wasn’t about to let things fall apart in the final stretch. As Rob continued coughing like he was trying to eject a lung, Ducaz clapped his hands again and ushered away any lingering bystanders.

“Blessings upon you all! May your generosity return to you tenfold!” he called out, practically shoving the last few stragglers toward the temple steps. “Go, go! Contemplate your good deeds! Spread the wisdom of the Table!”

Just as the last overly enthusiastic donor scurried away, Rob and Lena finally made it back to the wagon. Rob still hunched over and had trouble breathing, while Lena’s sharp eyes immediately scanned the scene.

She turned to Ducaz, then to the wagon, then back to Ducaz again. “…What happened here?”

“Ah!” Ducaz put on his most innocent grin, wiping imaginary sweat from his brow. “Nothing at all, dear sister… I mean, Lena! I’m just providing guidance to some lost pilgrims.”

Lena squinted. “That crowd just now looked very donation-happy.”

“Hahaha! Yes, well, you know how the faithful are! Always eager to show their devotion through generous—uh—acts of kindness!”

She crossed her arms. “Right. And why, pray tell, are you wearing keeper’s robes?”

What? You idiot! Why didn’t you take off the attire? And here I thought you were a cunning genius.

“Well, you see—” he began, tugging lightly at the gold-threaded sash around his waist. “I have always been deeply devout, of course! And I, uh, happened to find these sacred garments near the temple steps! And naturally, as a humble servant of the Lords of Light, I could not allow them to be trampled underfoot, so I donned them myself to ensure they were treated with the proper respect!”

“Rightttttt…” Before Lena could grill him further, Rob let out another rough cough. She turned to her husband with utmost distress. “Oh no! We must get you to the good doctor at once!”

“Yes! Yes!” Ducaz nodded. “Nothing is more important than keeping healthy.”

“Let me help.” Before anyone could respond, a figure stepped forward from the temple courtyard. He was just outside the temple, a fair distance away from the wagon, but Blorbo could feel the vibration in his voice as if he was next to him

An imposing man brisked forth. Around his neck hung a thick medallion with an ornate depiction of the Lord of Light’s sigil, and in one hand, he carried a wooden staff capped with a polished crystal. His attire was lined with even MORE gold than the Heralds. 

Lena jumped in shock, then quickly bowed her head. “Priest Zukaman!”

[I am a Table] Chapter 39

Shop closed early, and since Rob now had a freaking wagon with him, he got to load Blorbo straight onto the back like a sack of potatoes.

Rob was never the most talkative man, and he grew even more quiet the closer to the temple he was. It was mostly Lena who did the talking, and it didn’t really matter since the woman was the kind to have a seamless free-flowing conversation with her pebbles.

They got to the Temple of Garniz, a temple with side-towers so tall it made the structure look like a pitchfork. The entrance was grand, flanked by colossal braziers filled with sacred Everflame—fire that, according to Lena who cited temple teachings, had never been extinguished since the first stone of the temple was laid. Not that they were magical flames or anything. Every two weeks, a robed attendant would step forward and pour a vial of shimmering oil into the flames. “Even the Blessing of Fires could only last so long,” Lena had said.

The Paladin God sure as heck sucks in this world.

As Rob stopped his wagon, Blorbo took a peek outside and see a steady stream of people moving through the temple grounds—some in quiet prayer, others conversing in hushed tones. The Temple of Garniz was, as Lena had put it, always attended, but never overcrowded. The flow of visitors was as constant as the Everflame, with only Enlightenment Day being the exception. Blorbo had no idea what that entailed, because Lena hadn’t elaborated.

Rob and Lena left the wagon to meet a man called Ducaz who was sitting underneath a palm tree. For three shillings, he would watch over their wagon, Blorbo included, while they were inside the temple.

“The keepers are already re-decorating the courtyard.” Lena’s gaze followed the barefoot men and women clad in white tunics. The fabric was light and flowing, woven with sunburst embroidery and kept in place by the gold-threaded sashes tied around their waists. “And there’s Herald Pranston. We need to get in-line before she realizes we’re running late!”

Unlike the keepers, whose attire was soft and humble, the heralds wore long, structured robes of deep gold, embroidered with intricate depictions of celestial rays. She even had a bronze circlet atop her head that made her look like a teapot lid.

And not the pretty kind, more like the kind Bimbleton would have on one of his ugly tables.

“You better. She discourages tardiness with the intensity of a tax collector who’s found a missing copper in your records,” Ducaz spoke as he yawned. “Three shillings to watch a wagon ain’t bad, but you know what would be better? Five.”

Lena raised a brow. “You literally just said three.”

He grinned, stretching lazily. “And you didn’t haggle, which means I didn’t start high enough.”

Rob tossed him the three shillings. “Just don’t touch the horse.”

Ducaz held up his hands in mock surrender. “Wouldn’t dream of it! Trust is the foundation of all business, after all.”

Lena muttered as they walked away, “I don’t think he and I have the same definition of trust.”

Lena and Rob joined the stream of people, and soon they disappeared into the temple.

Great. What am I going to do when these two are gone?

Ducaz rose from where he’d been sitting, cracked his knuckles, and let out a satisfied sigh. “A table. Makes it easier for me. Alright, time to put you to work, table.”

Huh? Have we even interacted before?

Ducaz dragged him off the wagon, flipped him upright, reached into his satchel and pulled out a gleaming, gold-trimmed bowl with the same patterns as the threads on the sashes that the keepers wore. Then, out of nowhere, he pulled out an entire outfit—a flowing white tunic embroidered with sunbursts, complete with a gold-threaded sash.

WHERE DID THAT EVEN COME FROM? Does this man have 1000 AGI or something?

Ducaz slipped into the attire with smooth efficiency, lapped his hands together and boomed in a reverent voice, “Brothers and sisters! The Temple of Garniz welcomes all who walk the path of light! Open your hearts, and let generosity guide your hands!”

He gestured grandly toward the bowl sitting atop Blorbo. “Donations to the temple’s cause shall be accepted here! Give freely, and may the Lords of Light bless you with abundance!”

This scammer. This highwayman in holy robes!

The moment he placed it on Blorbo’s surface—

[SIDEQUEST AVAILABLE—The Holy Hustle]
Objective: Earn Ducaz 100 shillings in “donations.”
Reward: 5 EXP, +2 PER, “Blessed Surface” Status Effect

Temporary Aura: “Sacred” Presence— When used as an altar, your presence becomes 17% more convincing. Duration: Until the Completion/Failure of the Quest.
Prerequisite: None.
Failure: Ducaz gets mad.

Wait. WAIT.

Blorbo stared at the bowl. Then at Ducaz. Then back at the bowl.

This charlatan is tricking the masses! You really want me to go along with such an immoral quest?! For a status effect? I don’t even know what status effects do!

The system dinged.

[Reward increased: 15 EXP, +3 PER, “Blessed Surface” Status Effect, a 50% Chance to Unlock a New Beginner-level Passive.]

Blorbo clicked ACCEPT without hesitation.

Heck yeah, gimme that money suckers! If they were gonna donate anyway, what did it matter which bowl it ended up in? What does the temple even do with donations?! Buy fancier sun embroidery? At least with Ducaz, I knew exactly where it was going—to his pockets. I respect that.

Ducaz gave the bowl a slight tilt, adjusting the angle for maximum coin visibility. “Alright, let’s make some money.” Then he bellowed. “Al-Shana-Manah! All praise the Lord!”

Ah-SHAKALAKA! ALL PRAISE THE LORD! GIMME MONEY! I have never felt more religious in my life.

An old woman walked by right as he bellowed, she glanced at Ducaz, then at the bowl. “Since when did they put a donation table outside the temple?” she muttered.

“Since now, sister!” Ducaz beamed, voice dripping with reverence. “The Lord of Light sees all generosity, no matter where it is given!”

The woman squinted. “Why does the Lord of Light sound like he’s about to sell me a used horse?”

Ducaz coughed into his sleeve. “Madam, your generosity will be noted in the celestial ledger.”

She dropped a single copper in the bowl, still glaring.

[Sidequest Progress: 1/100]

You penny-pinching old hag! One copper coin? ONE? What am I supposed to do with this? Buy half a rotten turnip? Try shoving that ONE single coin up your local butcher’s face and see what kind of food he serves you!

A man passed by and dropped 20 copper coins without a word.

[Sidequest Progress: 21/100]

May the Lord bless you, good Sir. You are a beacon of generosity, a paragon of virtue, a true connoisseur of wealth redistribution.

Ducaz thanked the man in a deeply appreciative voice, all the while tapping his finger on the table, whispering, “You and I make a good duo, mate. Let’s keep at this.”

[I am a Table] Chapter 38

That damn robed mage.

From his stationary vantage point, Blorbo felt a weird tingling sweeping over his surface. Something was happening. The cabbages that had been threatening to topple were suddenly steadied, and there was no sound or dramatic flourish that would cause any suspicion. It was a subtle spell, too quiet for anyone to detect, but Blorbo felt it.

So unlike him.

His status updated for a brief moment:

[Magical Furniture]

What?

Then it went back to being [Furniture].

“Daughter of ze old man, my favorite apprentice!” Blorbo could hear his over-enthusiastic voice ring out. “Have you made another breakthrough with your spellcasting?” Then without Lena’s response, he’d already replied to himself. “Incredible! You have made ze wand even smaller! A masterful step backward.”

“I… I haven’t done anything,” Lena stuttered.

“You are slacking! It is a crime against the arcane liquidity to be indolent.”

Blorbo could hear the defensiveness coming from Lena’s inflection. “You told me to remember five spell chants and they’re all super hard to remember! Also, I’m still trying to figure out how to grapple the stick correctly. It’s so small.”

“It is another mistake to be calling your beloved wand ze stick. Learn to hold it properly and I shall teach you more basic wand spells as appropriate as it can be for a banker to cast. A bright student such as yourself should have no problem casting them by tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah… about that… Actually, I need something quicker. Something I can learn now. I’ll be out of town starting tomorrow. I know it’s a bit much to ask, but… it’s something really urgent.”

“Ah! Zat will not do. Whatever could possibly be more urgent than arcane knowledge?”

You already know! You caused it, you bamboozling blunderbuss!

“It’s… something out my control. My family will be on the move at sunrise.”

“Zen…” The mage stopped for a second too long. “Will zis afternoon do?”

“I have to attend temple services this afternoon, but after the 12th hour I can.” For some reason, the 12th hour in this realm would be around 6 PM in Blorbo’s last world. He didn’t know how his knowledge about time in his past life surfaced now. Probably for reader convenience.

Temple?

I’ve never seen you mention it at all, much less go there and pray!

“Yes of course. But beware of ze curse of ze night, Bring along a trusted companion.”

“W-what do you mean ‘the curse of the night’?” She asked. But Blorbo no longer heard an answer from the mage, only incessant sighs from Lena. 

Then came a notification from the system.

[Stun period over. You can now resume functions]

Ah, great! After EVERY single interesting thing had happened. Now there isn’t even a quest on top of anyone’s head anymore.

At high noon, Rob arrived at the market, guiding a sturdy, well-worn horse pulling a wagon behind him. The creaking of the wooden wheels barely rose above the hum of the busy market, but Lena’s ears perked up the moment she saw him.

“Rob? Who did you Rob the wagon from?” Lena asked, tilting her head. Then her eyes sparkled. “Oh, oh! Did you hear that? I just made an excellent pun!”

Rob, wiping the sweat off his brow, patted the horse’s neck. “We’re going to be on the road for who knows how long, so I figured we’d need something reliable. Carrying all our belongings on our backs doesn’t seem like a great idea.”

Lena blinked. “Wait. You bought this?”

Rob nodded. “The whole thing, plus the horse, cost me only five silver coins. A bargain, right?”

Lena narrowed her eyes. “That sounds… suspiciously cheap. Does this horse have lung fever?”

Rob shrugged. “The seller said it was his late uncle’s, and the wagon has been sitting in a shed gathering dust, so he just wanted to get rid of it. I checked it over—wheels are solid, no rot, and the horse is healthy. Probably the best deal I’ve ever made.”

Lena crossed her arms. “And what exactly are we supposed to do with a wagon after this trip?”

Rob grinned. “Plenty of ways to make use of it. I could start a carriage service. Or we could just sell the bulk when we get back. We’d probably get at least four silver, and honestly, five silver was such a steal we won’t even be losing much if we sell for less.”

Lena considered this for a moment, then asked, “How much do we have left?”

“A little over two silver coins.” Rob gave her a knowing look. “Which means we’ll need to pick up odd jobs to cover our expenses.”

Lena grinned. “Oh, don’t worry about that! I’ve got it covered. I’ll learn the most useful spells tonight, and you’ll come with me.”

Rob raised an eyebrow. “To meet the robed mage?”

“The very one.”

He scrunched his nose but nodded. “Fine. If you think it’ll help.”

“But before that, we’ll need to attend temple services.”

“I’ll pass that one,” Rob exhaled sharply as he climbed on the horse. “I promised Kieran I’d deliver him some apples for 15 shillings.”

You will go to the mage, but won’t go to the temple?

“Ah! It’s just 15 shillings. His apples won’t rot in a day. You’re just making excuses again.”

“Money is money.”

“Robert!” Lena stomped on the ground. “Priest Zumakan reminded us that while it is sufficient to attend hearings and pray once a month, it is your duty as a Paladinborn, and by extension my duty as a Temple devotee and as a wife of a Paladinborn to see to the temple’s matters semi-regularly. We should at least pray more often.”

Rob shrugged with the same nonchalance he’d exhibited as with most matters in life. “I don’t see the need to, given that the Lords of Light have neglected me all my life.”

“He has blessed us with a pretty good life so far, don’t you think?”

“You can pray on my behalf then, Lena. Surely you have the faith to receive plenty of blessings for the both of us.”

“I’ve already done so last month!” Lena huffed. “The Priest specifically asked me to, for a lack of better word, insist you attend temple services.”

There we have it! A Paladinborn who doesn’t believe in Paladinhood, and a non-Paladin who seemingly loves everything spectral and divine. What a great combination for growth. Not.

On another note… The believers in this world don’t seem too overzealous. At least these two seem like a normal bunch who don’t talk about the Lords ever, apart from that one time they did unspeakable things to me while sitting on me.

It would be exactly like Lena to only ever be praying to the Lord after she’s sinned and is asking for forgiveness. And it would be exactly like Rob to not give a dang. Guy doesn’t seem to ever care about anything but his farm and his wife.

Rob and Lena were still having their heated discussion. Rob said, “We don’t have time, Lena. Your father wants us to be on our way tomorrow!”

“Which is why we need to be at the temple by the 9th hour! I will close shop early and we can get there in time. You’re not losing out on anything. And I need you to be be with me when we meet the mage tonight.”

Rob didn’t say anything, instead just stared at her and instinctively grabbed the horse bridle.

“Pretty please? Pretty pleaseeee?” Lena interlocked her fingers into a lock.

Rob locked eyes with her for the longest time. “Okay.”

[I am a Table] Chapter 37

The least bad thing about being stunned was that Blorbo’s senses numbed for about thirty minutes. It wasn’t the worst feeling in the world, since when you couldn’t feel, nothing could hurt him. But the table knew it was only a matter of time until fate hit him with another idiotic trial that he’d never asked for.

And the first thing Blorbo felt when his vision returned was the bumpy sensation of being wheeled through town.

Not another day of being carted around like some kind of cabbage-delivering prisoner.

That day was the first sunless day in weeks, but Lena was ever cheerful with her insufferably jolly hum and the occasional random swap of her him for no particular reason. She saw a vaguely familiar figure from afar and waved her hand excitedly. “Oh! Miss Curly Kale Lady!”

Blorbo squinted. Ah, it was that customer from a while ago. The one who passionately debated the superior curl density of different kale varieties with Lena.

“Lena, dear!” the woman gasped, clasping her hands together. “I was hoping to run into you! I have a most urgent matter!”

[SIDEQUEST AVAILABLE—A Farmer’s Woe]

Objective: ??

Reward: ??

Prerequisite: ??

Failure: ??

Huh?

A quest?

On her?

He tried to click it.

Nothing happened.

Yes. Of course. I’m stunned.

“Tell me, do you have any idea how to keep wild deer from eating my crops? I swear they’ve grown bolder this season!” The kale lady asked.

“Ohhh, that’s rough,” Lena said, tapping her chin. “Have you tried yelling at them really loudly?”

And of course that would be her first idea.

Their conversation came to a halt after the lady remembered she forgot to feed a pet turtle and jogged off. As Lena started walking, someone else called out.

“Lena.”

Oh no.

Marza.

Blorbo was wheeled around just in time to see her stepping into view. And what a sight she was now. Gone was the plain merchant attire, Marza now wore an embroidered bodice with pearls stitched along the sleeves and a delicate golden chain resting against her collarbone. Her hair was pulled back in braids and fastened with jeweled pins.

She looked like an entirely different person, but that bitter voice was still unmistakable.

Lena blinked. “Wow. Fancy. It’s great spending money after selling off other people’s property.”

Marza gave her a wicked half-grin. “Oh, don’t you wish the table had landed on your stall instead? There’s a specific smell someone gives off when they’re jealous.”

Lena just crossed her arms. “Not really. I just feel like vomiting standing in front of a wedding cake.”

Marza’s eye twitched, but she maintained her composed smile. “And you still look like someone who sells cabbages.”

“Sorry I have moral and don’t take other people’s stuff as my own.”

“And I don’t fail at every single thing in my life. I’m not the fruit monger who had to sell my own cart and I’m not the one with a paladinborn husband who isn’t a paladin.” Marza let the words hang in the air, just enough for the gears to turn in Lena’s head.

“You! You’ve gone too far!”

Then—

[QUEST AVAILABLE—Marza’s Grand Scheme (1)]

Objective: ??

Reward: ??

Prerequisite: ??

Failure: ??

ANOTHER QUEST?!

Before he could even attempt to click it—

He was wheeled forward again, straight into the crowded market with a speed he’d never felt before.

And that’s when everything spiraled into madness.

Because every single person had a quest floating above their head.

Every. Single. One.

Some were glowing gold, some flickered ominously, some were even stacked on top of each other.

And then, the final straw—

[QUEST AVAILABLE]

On top of a chicken.

WHAT THE HELL?! EVEN THE CHICKEN HAS A QUEST?!

And he couldn’t click on any of them no matter how much he tried. He was stunned.

Yeah nah. The system is just playing with me at this point. Ha. Ha. So funny.

Might as well spend this time thinking about why that gloved mage knew about him. Something he should’ve done yesternight, before being pulled into all this nonsense.

Could it be possible that the mage was some kind of mind reader? No, that would be ridiculous, and way too OP for this world. He was just a shady, four-gloved weirdo. But what if he wasn’t a mage at all? What if he was some kind of psychoanalyst disguised as a mage, probing into the souls of everyday objects like Blorbo?

Then, what’s with the knives?

What if the gloved mage wasn’t stealing knives for power at all? What if he was trying to create an army of sentient furniture? Maybe the mage was after the power of a Paladinborn chair army! It would make perfect sense! Rob’s golden eyes were the key to unlocking the mystical furniture uprising!

That gloved mage! He’s planning to build an army of paladin-imbued furniture! He was trying to raise a rebellion! Tables, chairs, bookshelves, all imbued with the essence of Paladins! They would all rise, all led by the mighty Blorbo, the table who would overthrow the tyrants of this cruel world!

The more Blorbo thought about it, the more he became convinced that his entire life was leading to this moment. He could be the one to unite the furniture of the world! They would show humanity the power of the sentient tables, and they’d take back what was theirs.

Wait… I misremembered. The knives are Anders’, not Rob’s. Back to the drawing board…

Maybe the mage was after the power of a Archmage chair army! 

Then—

Plonk.

Plonk?

Blorbo’s deep thoughts were interrupted by the sound of cabbages dropping on his head.

What the?

He tried to shake himself back into awareness, but the moment another cabbage landed, he realized something was off. The cabbages were stacked too high, and it felt like they were on the verge of toppling over. He wanted to lean, to adjust them, to somehow stabilize them, but he couldn’t. His surface was locked. 

I can’t move.

The cabbages wobbled, and for a moment, Blorbo imagined them tumbling to the floor. And Lena was nowhere to be seen. He couldn’t move his field of vision neither.

This is not good.

“Zis is not good,” then he heard a voice.

[I am a Table] Chapter 36

The moonless night had fallen, and the only sound Blorbo could hear was the occasional gust of wind. 

The fireplace was dwindling and he was starting to feel colder, especially as the season was seemingly changing. There was no-one left to turn up the heat, and Blorbo had silently cursed the system for giving him the ability to feel the temperature but not the ability to do anything about it. Lena had dragged herself to bed after another long day of absolute nonsense, and Rob had mumbled something about checking the farm’s inventory before disappearing. Even Anders had gone to his quarters, likely muttering curses about capitalism in his sleep.

The only company left?

The cat.

That thing had been circling him for the past twenty minutes, wiggling its tail back and forth like a metronome of menace. Blorbo had been trying to think about how the robed mage knew about his sentience, but he couldn’t concentrate with that maniacal creature always within his line of vision.

Then— THWACK.

Tabby smacked Blorbo’s leg.

[-0 HP.]

AGAIN. If I don’t get health point deducted, that must mean Retribution Counter is doing the work, right? Then why isn’t the cat feeling the pain?

THWACK.

[-0 HP. Congratulations. You are now on par with a pussy.]

Why the hell did you word it like that?

Surely the system was only trying to get him worked up for one thing.

Everything in this world—everything—grows stronger through training. Then surely… surely… Retribution Counter is no different.

Like the ancient martial artists training in solitude, I, too, shall refine my craft. I will become the immovable object that punishes the unstoppable force! My body—my surface—will become an instrument of divine retribution!

He directed every ounce of nonexistent energy toward the skill.

Feel the pain… Feel the pain…

The cat licked its paw.

Blorbo pushed harder. He visualized the cat yowling in surprise, shaking its tiny feline paw, realizing that tables—nay, that he—was not to be trifled with. He imagined the system alert:

[Retribution Counter has evolved into Cosmic Backlash! All who dare strike you shall feel the weight of their actions a hundredfold!]

He could see it so clearly. He was right on the cusp of power. He just needed to—

The cat plopped its full, lazy weight onto him and started kneading his surface.

EXCUSE ME?

Blorbo vibrated in outrage.

[New Status Effect Applied: Furniture.]

I’VE ALWAYS BEEN FURNITURE, YOU LAG-RIDDEN RELIC OF BAD CODING.

The cat purred.

Blorbo extended his Surface Agitation skill just enough to make the table vibrate slightly under the cat’s paws. The feline hopped back, staring at him with wide, glinting eyes. Its tail was now puffed up like a dandelion.

That’s right. Back off, you demon.

Just as the cat decided it didn’t want anything to do with the table anymore and began swaying its hips as it walked away, a question mark appeared on its head. 

Blorbo examined it just before the cat walked out the door and into Rob and Lena’s room.

[QUEST: Meow Meow (2)]

Objective: Assert dominance over the feline menace using your newfound power. Deliver a decisive [Sawdust Puff] straight to its smug little face.

Reward: +1 HP, +2 AGI, and a 20% change of triggering [Massive Leap Under Duress].

Prerequisite: [Sawdust Puff].

Failure: Stunned for 4 hours.

Accept? YES / YES

20% chance? We’re doing things in probabilities now? And why is this a canon quest?

The countless THWACKs. The humiliating [Furniture] status effect. The utter disrespect.

It is time to pay back.

However, the cat had sauntered off into another room, leaving Blorbo with no choice but to sit there in silent anticipation.

Worse thing? The fire had burned out. He had to stay awake and wait in the cold.

Come on! Tables have to sleep too!

But he waited. He was patient. 20% for a Massive Leap? I’ll take that chance.

Then, finally he heard soft padding on the wooden floor, followed up be a weirdly distorted meow.

The cat had returned.

Now was his moment.

Blorbo activated [Sawdust Puff]. His legs tensed. His nonexistent muscles flexed as he launched the mighty torrent of sawdust straight onto the cat at the speed of the tsunami1

Except nothing happened.

What?

He tried again. No puff in his line of vision.

WHY?!

Then, realization struck him like a bolt of divine stupidity. He could only puff from the EDGE. The CORNER of the edge, to be exact.

The cat, however, was prancing everywhere but the corner.

WHY WOULD A CAT EVER BE NEAR THE CORNER?! IT MAKES NO SENSE!

Of course, the cat had seen the suspicious gusts of dust magically appearing on the corners and made sure to never be anywhere near those.

Guess I’ll never complete the mission.

Then, as the sky lightened with the first hints of dawn, a game-changer happen.

Lena emerged from her room, rubbing her eyes and yawning as she shuffled toward the kitchen. It was breakfast time.

She poured some milk into Tabby’s bowl and placed it near one of Blorbo’s edges. If Rob had been around, he would’ve lectured her about how she should never put bowls and utensils anywhere near the corners. But Rob wasn’t here.

The cat, drawn by the scent of food, finally jumped to Blorbo’s surface and wandered near the corner of the table.

You gluttonous fool! Now is my chance!

Blorbo released the puff.

But the cat was baiting him. He was walking over THE MOMENT Lena was walking past, trying to put a steaming pot of cabbage soup on the table.

The exact moment Blorbo released the puff, the cat jumped away at supersonic speed.

HOW—

The puff hit Lena right in the face.

She jolted so hard she gasped, then sneezed, then flailed her arms. The entire pot of soup dropped upside down, and the liquid splash everywhere. On. Blorbo’s. Surface. Then came the clanking of the milk bowl on the floor.

[-1 HP]

[-1 HP]

[-1 HP]

[-1 STR. Endurance Training Resumed.]

[-1 HP]

[-1 HP]

AARRRRGHHH! HOT HOT HOT!

[-1 HP]

[-1 HP]

[QUEST FAILED.]

What? How did I fail—

[-1 HP]

HOT HOT HOT!

Lena gasped, staring at the mess in horror. “Oh no! The soup!”

Oh no, the soup?! I’M DYING, LENA! I AM BEING BOILED ALIVE LIKE A LOBSTER!

She grabbed a rag and quickly started dabbing at his surface. “I’ll fix this, don’t worry!”

[-1 HP]

LENA, YOU’RE JUST RUBBING IT IN. STOP.

The cat, now safely on the floor, licked its paw smugly as it looked directly at the corner from which the sawdust came.

[-1 HP]

“Tabby!” Lena scolded him. “Look what you’ve done! You made me drop both the soup and your milk!” She finished wiping the hot soup off the table.

Ah. Finally, some peace. Not dying to a pot of cabbage feels good.

[1 STR returned. Training failed. Not enough time.]

What? How much more time do you need? You want me to die for like a 2 END gain?

The system chimed.

[Quest Failed.]
[Penalty: Stunned for 4 hours. Applying in 30 seconds.]

He hadn’t even seen a failure condition!

Desperate, he clicked on the Failure line on the quest screen. The text expanded.

Failure: If you puff at the wrong target, you fail.

WHY WOULD YOU HIDE THIS?! WHY NOT TELL ME FROM THE START?! HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW?! YOU HARLOT-BUTTOCK SWINDLER! THIS IS THE STUPIDEST USER INTERFACE EVER!

And then—

[Stunned for 4 hours.]

Everything locked.

His vision. Frozen.
His skills. Disabled.
His movement. Immovable.
Nothing but pure, agonizing stillness.

Blorbo could do nothing. Nothing but think.

And suffer.

[I am a Table] Chapter 35

As the orange hue of the sunset bled into the horizon, Lena pushed the cart back to the market. She had already been complaining to herself about how sore he arms felt, and of course Blorbo was the one who had to hear all of it.

She reached the market to see that most shopmongers had left, and Rob had already been waiting. His arms were crossed and he tapped his foot with a slightly irritated look on his face. His eyes narrowed as he spotted her.

“You went off without saying a word,” Rob grumbled. “Do you know how long I’ve been standing here wondering where the hell you disappeared to?”

Lena flashed him a charming smile as stopped the cart, walked up to him, and put her hands on her hips, leaning in slightly. “Oh, Robert, you don’t even know. I’ve learned so much today. I’m going to be way better at managing our finances from now on. No more buying random pebbles or trinkets without setting up a trust fund. I swear, from now on, it’s all about smart investments. The right investments.”

“Did you run off alone with a stranger?”

“Alone?” She gasped the same dramatic way the robed mage gasped. “I will never do such a careless thing!” She pointed at the table. “Blorbo was with me!”

Rob sighed. “You can’t keep having me worried about you like that. There are thieves and shady people around town.”

“Mister Robed Mage taugh me real magic. I was able to summon some candies!” Oh you conveniently left out the part she’s a DRAGON QUEEN. For what reason? “Don’t you worry, dear. Mister Mage looks very legit and trustworthy. Nobody ever looks at him and thinks he’s weird.” As Lena said that, the Robed Mage was sneaking behind the empty stalls, his hood low and his hands oddly hidden in his long sleeves. He cast furtive glances around, then quickly pulled out a set of four gloves, one by one, and began to wear them.

“Point is, you don’t follow people you don’t know well just about anywhere. The last time you did so the bandits almost sold you to the sunflower farms!” He buried his hands deep inside his hair. “At least tell me so I can go with you.”

“Aww, sweetheart, you’ve become so mature you start to sound like Dad!” She then lifted her wrist, her fingers brushing the delicate bracelet that wrapped around it. “Why do you have to worry? Look! I still have this, remember?”

Blorbo’s vision moved from the woman’s gaze to the modest trinket that hung from the bracelet. It was a simple piece, so small and unassuming that he’d never noticed it until now. But now that he’d taken a good look, there was something about it that caught his attention. The charm itself was a small, intricately crafted emblem, not unlike a pendant, with a centerpiece shaped like a lance raised to something resembling a heavenly gates in the background. The craftsmanship was so fine, but understated.

“The trinket of the Paladin,” she continued with a low, almost reverent tone. “Linked by oath with you. As long as I have this, you’ll know exactly where I am if you need to.”

Oh, yeah. He’d heard it mentioned last time when Rob was having an argument with Anders. What were Paladinborns again?

Rob furrowed his brow. His arms were uncrossed, and he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I’m not a Paladin, Lena. I don’t have the speed nor the teleporting ability of a Paladin. I might not be able to come if you’re too far away.”

“You weren’t terribly worried the last time you whoop those bandits’ butts.” Lena chuckled.

Is anyone going to explain ANYTHING? Hello? At least give me some context.

All of a sudden, Blorbo felt a tap on his surface.

[Stealth detection failed. PER too low]

The Robed Mage had slipped in quietly, his heavy cloak swishing silently against the cobblestones. He leaned in as he whispered, “What a coincidence, don’t you think? A mageborn and a paladinborn in ze same household, hiding away from ze world in zis peaceful town. But soon, soon, zere won’t be any place to hide.”

Huh? Is he talking to me?

Blorbo looked around. There were no-one else there but Rob and Lena, and both of them seemed to be oblivious to the fact the four-gloved mage was already here.

“Ze orc war is just the beginning.” His whisper was even lower now. “Soon, both orckind and humankind will come to face a catastrophe of ze highest order. Heed my word,” he tapped his gloved finger on Blorbo’s surface, and he could feel the mage’s grin growing wider. “Heed my word.”

This guy gives me the creeps. Does he actually know—

Then he leaned in further, so close Blorbo could feel his breath on his surface. “I know you can hear me, table. I am ze one who stole zee old man’s knives. Tell them if you can.”

How? How do you know?!

Then the mage pushed his index finger onto Blorbo’s surface. “Here’s a parting gift, ah. Use it wisely, and you will achieve greatness.”

[You have received a Basic-level spell]

Wow! I don’t care if that guy is the most villainest villain in the world! A freebie is a freebie! Let me unwrap this gift of his, and see how close to greatness I am!

[Sawdust Puff—Level 1 Basic Spell]

Cost: 1 MP
Cooldown: None

Combo: If you release 4 puffs in a row, your 5th puff costs 0 MP.

[You can release a negligible amount of sawdust from any corner of your surface]

Of course. It’s absolute garbage. Why am I not surprised.

This spell is SO rubbish the only way you can make it balanced is by making it GIVE you MP whenever you cast it!

Of course, the gloved mage had predictably vanished as if dissolved into air, the same way he’d shown up. Rob and Lena were still talking.

[I am a Table] Chapter 34

Lena clapped her hands together again. “Alright, we just need to try again!”

The dragon queen nodded. “Indeed. We simply need to refine our coordination.”

Lena sat.

A second later, the dragon sat.

“I thought that was so good!” Lena cheered. “Let’s try again, but maybe I’ll sit down quicker.”

“You are quite right. I will sit down more slowly.”

NO! You’re supposed to sit quicker, stupid talking candy bar, not the other way around!

They stood up and tried again.

Lena sat.

Four seconds later, the dragon flopped onto the ground like an expired marshmallow.

“Hmm,” the dragon mused, licking her lips in deep contemplation. “I believe I was still early that time.”

Four seconds? FOUR—ARGHHH!

You are supposed to sit FASTER! FASTER! NOT SLOWER! This isn’t a delicate waltz, you licorice-brained lizard!

Without knowing, Blorbo had activated Surface Agitation, and he started vibrating.

“Oh look!” Lena pointed at Blorbo. “You sat too quickly the table rumbled. You must slow down a lot more!”

No, no, no…

The dragon huffed, offended. “I am the Queen of Candy! I do NOT move in haste!”

“Then you count it!” Lena gestured wildly.

“Fine.” The dragon held up a claw. “On three.”

“Got it.”

“One.”

Lena flexed her legs, ready.

“Two.”

The tension thickened.

“Three.”

Lena sat.

The dragon leaped into the air and dramatically landed three feet away from where she started.

“Was that not perfect?!” The Dragon gasped in amazement. “How is this possible?”

NO, IT WAS NOT PERFECT! IT WAS THE WORST ONE YET! WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING, YOU OVERSIZED GUMMY WORM?!

I give up.

Out of nowhere, the candy pile erupted, sending peppermints and taffy flying in every direction as the robed mage catapulted himself out like a sugar-fueled banshee.

"ZE ECONOMY WAITS FOR NO MAN!" he bellowed, his four-gloved hand raised triumphantly to the heavens.

Lena and the dragon screamed.

Pure, unfiltered, instinctual terror overtook them both. And in that exact moment—they sat down.

The air crackled. The ground beneath them shuddered.

A golden portal ripped open beneath the dragon’s seat.

“Great. I forgot this type of ritual summons a portal,” she roared, her wings flaring in alarm as the swirling vortex of light and sugar began dragging her in.

Right as the candy dragon was being sucked in, a golden quest icon appeared atop her head.

Blorbo clicked on it.

[SIDEQUEST: Power of the Peppermint]

Objective: Stare at the Queen of the Candy for 5 seconds.

Reward: The Rare Passive Skill—Power of the Peppermint

Prerequisite: 10 STR, 10 END (You can accept this quest)

Failure: None

Accept: Yes/No

A Rare skill?! Only for staring?

Why has it only shown up now?!

He clicked Yes as quickly as possible and started staring.

The dragon screeched as the portal devoured her whole, her voice echoing into the void, “I hate you, Dong Shifu. YOU WILL RUE THIS, YOU MISERABLE, UNBALANCED HUMAAAAAAAN—!"

And just like that—she was gone. It hasn’t even been a second since Blorbo first started the sidequest.

NOOOOO! Why, why, why?!

A single jellybean bounced across the floor in the silence that followed.

[QUEST COMPLETED: Expel the Dragon Queen]

Reward: +25 EXP, + 1 Random Beginner-level Skill

[Congratulations! You have leveled up to Level 3]

[+5 Attribute Points]

[+5 MAX HP]

[+1 MP]

[MAX MP INTRODUCED]

Why do you only feel the need to introduce a MP cap now? You mean the first 2 levels were exploitable if you could just travel the world and farm for MP?

Guess I’ll never have the chance to find out.

Lena jolted from the cold floor. “Dong Shifu? Wait? Is that the name of Master Shifu?”

“I am all covered in sticky royalty.” The four-gloved mage shrugged the candies off himself as he climbed down from the peppermint tower. his four gloved hands moving in perfect synchronization as he adjusted his cloak, straightened his hat, and dramatically flicked a stray caramel off his shoulder. He turned to Lena with a newfound intensity. “Zat name… Master Shifu… What business do you have with zat man?”

Lena, still half in shock from the screaming, the portal, and the sheer absurdity of the past five minutes, blinked. “Uh… He stole my dad’s knives?”

The mage recoiled as if she’d just told him her father was the lost emperor of the twin moons. “Impossible! Master Shifu is a man of great refinement! A connoisseur of ze finest treasures! A ruthless capitalist! He would never settle for mere knives unless—” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Unless… they are no ordinary knives.”

He’s trying to get information from you! Do not give him what he wants!

Lena crossed her arms. “Oh yeah? I would love you to tell me what you think the knives are!”

Good, good. Pin it on him!

“It is not in my realm of knowledge, for I am a Holder of the Liquidity, not a holder of knives.”

“Oh, oh! You said you know about Master Shifu. Can I implore what you know?”

The mage tutted. “Tch. Very well.” He folded his arms, his cloak billowing dramatically despite there being no wind. “We trade. I tell you what I know of Master Shifu, and in return, you complete a simple task for me.”

Lena jumped up and down. “Do tell. Do tell!”

The mage leaned forward, his voice low and ominous. “You must complete… ze ultimate test.”

Blorbo braced himself. Oh no. Do not… Do not!

The mage raised his hand and—WHAM!—slammed a massive ledger onto the table. “A full, audited financial statement.”

Lena gasped. “You don’t mean—”

“Yes,” he whispered. “With accurate expense tracking, projected cash flow, and—ze most difficult of all—categorization of liabilities and assets.”

Blorbo screamed internally. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

***

With cramping fingers and a numbing mind, Lena hunched over the ledger. The candlelight flickered as the hours dragged on, her quill scratching away at paper like a prisoner etching tally marks into a cell wall.

Blorbo had already completed his stats distribution: +2 END, +2 PER, +1 STR. The usual. There was nothing else to do.

He had long since given up trying to keep track of time. Had it been two hours? Four? He didn’t know. He only knew suffering.

As the sun began to set, Lena set down her quill. “Done.” Her hands were still shaking.

The robed mage, who had been lounging dramatically in a chair with his boots propped up on the table, snapped upright. “Ah! Let us see…” He picked up the ledger, flipping through the pages with his four-gloved hands. 

Blorbo swore he saw the mage wipe away what seemed to be a tear, but Blorbo couldn’t tell because of his shrouded hood.

“Incredible,” the mage breathed. “Impeccable accuracy. And ze speed—! Although zis is a novice version, you still have done much faster than I expected.” He sighed wistfully. “Ah… zis is what true talent looks like.”

Lena weakly grinned. “Does that mean I passed?”

“Oui, oui! You have exceeded expectations. You may now call yourself… an Apprentice of Business Liquidity. You may call me your Financial Luminary.”

Lena fist-pumped him. “YES!”

Blorbo was too exhausted to scream.

“Mister Financial Luminary,” Lena continued, wiping sweat from her brow, “May I now know you know about Master Shifu?”

The mage casually set the ledger down and leaned back. “Ah, oui, of course. I last saw Master Shifu at ze township of Nokia. He was doing business with a man named Adrien Silverleaf.”

A long, dead silence filled the room.

Blorbo’s nonexistent jaw hit the floor.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

THAT’S LITERALLY THE INFO WE GOT YESTERDAY! I ALMOST LOST MY LIFE FOR THAT! I FOUGHT IN A TABLE JOUST! I WAS NEARLY SHATTERED INTO SPLINTERS! AND YOU’RE TELLING ME I JUST NEEDED TO DO SOME BOOKS TO ATTAIN IT INSTEAD?!

Lena’s eye twitched. “That’s it?”

The mage nodded, completely oblivious to the sheer amount of suffering he had just caused. “Oui. I had a feeling zat was what you wanted. You should have just asked me yesterday.”

Blorbo vibrated. I AM GOING TO LOSE IT.

[I am a Table] Chapter 33

“Dragon Queen of the… Candy?” Lena hesitated.

Hah! A dairy queen! What’s she going to do to me? Shower me in sweets?

“Mother of Balance Sheets!” The mage yelped. “You summoned something zat can talk!” With careful steps, he slightly bent over as he examined the creature. “Zis! Zis is truly magical. Hello? You understand me?” She literally just spoke English! ““Osiyo! Nihi tsalagi tsigesv? Bonjour! Êtes-vous un seigneur draconique de bonbons—”

The dragon exhaled. A hurricane of peppermint breath and powdered sugar blasted the Mage into the wall before burying him under a stack of mint candies.

The dragon queen fluffed her wings and cast her gaze to the ceiling. “I find your languages acceptable, but your breath is not.”

Wait… The quest! The dragon queen I’m supposed to banish… is this?

Guess I have a chance. 

Lena quickly dusted the mint off herself and beamed at the dragon. “Oh wow! I wasn’t expecting to summon an actual dragon, much less a queen!” She clasped her hands together, absolutely thrilled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Sweetness—I mean, Your Majesty.”

It’s not a dragon nor a queen, Lena. It’s a dragon-shaped candy! Think about it! How can candies breed? Real dragons must know how to breed.

The candy dragon narrowed her shimmering caramel eyes, lifting her chin with regal grace. “Hmph. At least you have some manners.” She flicked her licorice tail and filled the air with a scent of vanilla. “Tell me, human. Are you a High Mage? Or perhaps a Master Mage?”

Lena blinked. “Oh, neither! I’m just a commoner who’s learning magic for the first time today!”

The dragon’s lollipop pupils constricted. “A mere human summoned me?” Her wings twitched, sending a fine dusting of powdered sugar across the room. “Fascinating.”

Lena asked, “May I know your name, Your Majesty?”

The dragon scoffed. “And this commoner doesn’t even know about the Soul Binding Contract of the dragonkind.”

A gloved hand punch through the mountain of mint candies, and the muffed sound of the robed mage rang out. “Do not ask her of the impozzible. Dragons do not give zeir name to humans unless it is during a consensual ritual of Soul Binding, mongresss.”

“Do not speak unless I allow you to!” The dragon then spat another hurricane of peppermint candy toward the mage. He was now buried under a mountain of sweets so high it reached the ceiling.

Nah. We’re not banishing that.

Lena clapped her hands together. “Sooo, Your Majesty, since I summoned you, does that mean you’re my summon now? Like, do I get to keep you?”

The dragon queen’s wings snapped open, revealing granola bars underneath. “Excuse me?”

Lena, realizing that might’ve been the wrong thing to say to a literal queen, quickly waved her hands. “Uh, I mean—since I summoned you, does that mean we can be friends?”

The dragon squinted at her, then let out a contemplative hum. “Hmmm. I shall consider it.”

Yeah, Lena. Get to know your enemy then stab the hell out of her. She’s like that piñata on the inside. One plunge and she’ll burst.

Lena took a tiny step closer. “We’re already friends! I mean, think about it! What if this is fate? What if we were meant to meet?”

The dragon queen raised an elegant brow. “Fate? Do not make me laugh, human. Your kind specifically tailored your magic to summon whatever, whichever way you will.”

“Oh, come on! You said it yourself, right? It’s practically unheard of for a first-time mage to summon someone of your exquisite caliber,” Lena said, layering on the flattery with all the subtlety of a brick through a window. “There must be something behind this! If you can spare some time and share your story with me…”

What’s this mushy nonsense? Where’s my stab, Lena?

“Besides,” Lena continued, her voice softer now, almost gentle. “Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone actually talk to you like an friend instead of groveling at your feet or treating you like a ornament?”

“You do not know me.”

“Friends should get to know each other.”

The dragon’s glossy eyes narrowed. “You are very bold for a human.”

Be bolder! Stab her! What’s a little attempted murder amongst friends?

The dragon suddenly said in a higher voice, “I would actually rather staying here and humor you, but,” She let out a sigh, sending candy wrappers out of her nostrils, “I have a rather urgent matter to attend to.”

Lena tilted her head. “You have something to attend to?”

The dragon queen sighed even more, stretching her caramel-coated wings. “Indeed. I was about to take my leave when I was forcibly transported to another realm.” She flicked her licorice tail. “Please do me a favor and return me to my domain.”

Blorbo internally screamed YES! YES! THERE'S ALWAYS A PEACEFUL SOLUTION TO EVERYTHING! No need for that stabbing violence nonsense!

Lena asked, “How exactly do we do that?”

The dragon queen exhaled sharply. “Chant whatever incantation you used to bring me here. I do not know your magic language.”

Lena’s eyes darted around. “Ooooh, yeah, about that. I don’t exactly remember what I said. It was mostly the banker mage guiding me through it, and—” She suddenly perked up and turned toward the giant candy mountain. “Right! He can tell us!” She ran back to the pile of peppermint candy. “Mister Banker Mage! How do I unsummon the dragon?”

Silence.

Lena frowned. “Hello?”

More silence.

She huffed. “Ugh. I need to dig him out!”

The dragon queen, however, was already shaking her head. “No time. There is another way.”

Lena immediately latched onto that. “Oh! What is it?”

The dragon’s eyes gleamed. “It is the method my last summoner used. Synchronized Sitting. We must sit down at the exact same time.”

Blorbo vibrated with excitement. I HAVE A SKILL FOR THAT! THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT MY PASSIVE SKILL IS FOR! I’M SORRY FOR DOUBTING YOU, SYSTEM. YOU ALWAYS KNOW WHAT’S BEST FOR ME!

Lena’s face twisted. “...That’s it? Just sit down at the same time?”

“Yes,” the dragon said. “Simultaneous contact with the ground. No delay.”

Lena shrugged. “Okey dokey! Easy enough.”

She and the dragon exchanged nods.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

“Three... two... one... SIT!”

They both sat.

And nothing happened.

What? But my skill is literally Synchronized Sitting?

He immediately checked the description of his Passive Skill.

[Passive Skill: Synchronite (Level 1)]
You have an innate talent for making people feel like they sat down at the exact same time as someone else.

Wait. FEEL LIKE?

FEEL LIKE?!

Like... not actually sit down at the same time? Just feels like it?

Blorbo’s nonexistent heart dropped to his nonexistent stomach.

THAT ACTUALLY MAKES IT WORSE. If they feel like they sit down at the exact same time every time they sit down but not actually in sync, how are they able to adjust?!

Lena and the dragon both turned to each other, confused.

“Huh?” Lena scratched her head. “Did we mess up?”

The dragon frowned. “I felt like it was perfect…”

Blorbo let out the longest, most suffering groan of his second life.

[I am a Table] Chapter 32

Blorbo groaned. Are you serious right now? Finance?! Who in their right mind would be willing to learn such a thing? How is this fun and mysterious? 

“Sounds so fun and mysterious!” Lena responded cheerily. “I would love to learn such a thing!”

Lena… you belong to a psychiatric ward…

“Most excellent!” the Mage exclaimed. “To truly understand business liquidity, you must first learn the flow of capital, the ebb and flow of assets—like the lifeblood of magic itself!”

Lena, eyes wide, nodded as if she were absorbing the most profound lesson of her life. “I can’t wait! What do I do first?”

The Mage clapped his hands, his robes swirling dramatically. “Ah! Ze first step in mastering the secrets of financial magic: Ze Ledger of Endless Prosperity.”

Oooh. Sounds magical. Maybe he’ll cast a spell for the numbers to add up themselves without jotting down a word.

Throughout the next hour, Lena sat down and did ledger entries for the mage. No magic involved.

“Ahah!” After the hour, he said. “You are a fast learner, daughter of ze old farmer. We now can conclude our first lesson. One lesson done, only twenty seven remains.”

HOW MANY? Am I going to have to sit here and listen to MORE accounting gibberish?

The Mage smiled, his eyes twinkling with an unsettling amount of pride. “Now, we move to ze second lesson. You’ve learned ze basic art of recording transactions, but to truly master financial magic, you must learn the next step: Balance Sheets!”

Lena’s face lit up as if she heard the greatest revelation of the century. “Balance sheets? That sounds important!”

The Mage waved his hand, producing a thick ledger from his robes and slamming it onto the table with dramatic flair. “This is where ze true mastery lies. You must be able to organize all your resources, liabilities, and assets into neat, organized columns. Only then will you unlock the true potential of business liquidity.”

Lena replied, “I’m so pumped! Let’s do it!”

Blorbo, once again, could do nothing but watch in horror as Lena set to work, copying down all the numbers the Mage dictated with great enthusiasm. The entries were nothing more than rows of boring debits and credits—nothing magical.

This feels a lot like unpaid labor…

“And remember,” the Mage continued with a grin, “you must also track your expenses, like ze cost of goods sold, wages, and zese horrors of the greatest proportion called… overhead costs.”

Lena gasped in terror. “Overhead costs?!?”

The Mage nodded. “You must track ze overhead costs, or there will be divine arcane retribution!”

Lena nodded enthusiastically, scribbling down notes. “Got it! I’ll make sure my balance sheet is flawless!”

Blorbo, inwardly groaning, could only hope for some kind of distraction. Anything. A Dragon Queen. A meteor. Anything that’ll interrupt this torture.

Lena finished tracking her expenses, and the Mage approvingly brushed his hands. “Now with your final entry, ze inscription is completed. We shall now proceed with the summoning ceremony.” The Mage suddenly held the ledger aloft, the thick pages rustling as if alive. His voice grew solemn, rhythmic, and oddly hypnotic. "Now, we shall summon the Beast of Accountability. Let it rise from the depths of paper, ink, and ledger!"

Wait, what?

“Zal… doh-hoo... nalukya... Rhal... sah-kri... mor!” He chanted.

With a final, resonant incantation, the Mage slammed the ledger down onto the table, and suddenly, the paper from the book began to ripple like water, expanding outward. The edges of the page curled, and before Blorbo could fully comprehend what was happening…

Poof! 

The paper transformed into a three-dimensional form: a paper horse.

WHAT?! HOW IS THIS EVEN POSSIBLE? ALL THEY DID WAS NORMAL BOOKKEEPING DATA ENTRIES!

The Mage looked pleased with himself. “It is done. We have summoned your first magical beast—a creature of finance! Behold, ze Paper Stallion!”

Lena stared in awe. “It’s majestic!”

It’s a paper horse.

The Mage came over and touched the horse’s head. Immediately, it the Paper Stallion started kicking its legs as if it were alive, stomping the floor with constant clacking sounds. Its paper body rustled with every movement, and it snorted in a way that made Blorbo think it might actually be a living, breathing creature.

"Behold!" The Mage boasted, hands raised triumphantly. "With more effort, I can make it gallop across the plains! And with your potential, young apprentice, perhaps you too can summon a beast that can blink after our first session today!"

Lena was wide-eyed with excitement, watching the Paper Stallion prance about. "I can do that?" she asked, nearly jumping out of Blorbo.

The Mage nodded enthusiastically. "Of course! It is all about ze precision and ze control. Now, cabbage mongress, repeat what I just did—say ze words, channel your energy, and summon your own beast."

Lena nodded eagerly, but Blorbo could already tell this wasn’t going to end well. Lena, of course, was way too excited for this. She jumped up, cleared her throat, and swung her hand around like she was squatting a fly. “Zal... doh-hoo... nalukya... Rhal... sah-kri... mor!”

Her pronunciation was off, and the Mage raised a finger. “No, no, no! You must pronounce it like zis!” He corrected her with exaggerated movements. “Zal... doh-hoo... nalukya... Rhal... sah-kri... mor!”

Lena tried again, her brow furrowed in concentration. “Zal... doh-hoo... nalukya... Rhal... sah-kri... mor!”

A pause.

The Mage stared at her and raised his gloved hand into the air. “Yes, yes! Now we wait!”

The air vibrated. A faint, sugary scent filled the room.

Oh, great. Some candy piñata nonsense again.

The pages of the ledger began to rustle. The paper quivered, the energy of the incantation pulsing through the air, and then—

Bang!

A massive candy dragon materialized in front of them, all gooey lollipops for eyes and rainbow-colored sugar-coated wings. It snorted a puff of cotton candy, as its wings fluttered.

The candy dragon let out a roar that sounded as powerful as lollipop wrapper crinkling. “Who dares summon the Dragon Queen of the Candy?”

[I am a Table] Chapter 30

Lena barely paid attention to the business of selling cabbages the following day. Blorbo saw before his very own eyes that she gave one customer four cabbages for the price of one by just absent-mindedly shoved them all into his giant bag. That weasel didn’t even try to point out the mistake, and to Blorbo’s fury, just slipped away as soon as he nabbed the fourth cabbage.

However, the moment the robed mage with the billowing shroud cloak appeared from afar, she jolted like a wound-up clock. 

“Ah, yes,” the robed figure said, “It is ze time for ze art of zee ancients.”

Lena stood up straighter, trying to look as serious as possible. “Yes, yes, teach me the secret arts of business liquidity!”

“Ahah!” He opened his arms. “But we must not learn here. Ze magic is ze art of ze discreet. Let us find a suitable location.”

Hey! Whatever that location is, bring me along. Find a reason to bring me along! Maybe he’ll accidentally cast an aura on me that’s half-useful.

“Sure! Let me tidy up and we can get going,” Lena replied. And with a hurried swoop like Blorbo had never seen before, she lunged everything into a cart she’d set up at a perfect angle.

[-1 HP]

ACK!

[Health Point deducted: You’ve been manhandled by a woman]

Shut up and tell me what I didn’t know!

Then, another status notification popped up.

[The average star is between 1 and 10 billion years old, although some stars are older than this.]

What?

[Large stars live shorter lives compared to smaller stars, because large stars burn through their fuel much faster.]

Stop! I don’t need to know this.

[Giant stars explode into a bright supernova when they die.]

The table sighed internally. No point reasoning with this stupid system.

“We must be careful where we go,” he said with exaggerated secrecy as Lena pushed the cart along. “Business liquidity magic is not to be practiced in the open. It is dangerous and ancient and dangerous. Only in a place of... privacy... can it truly take hold. Did I say it is dangerous?”

If one truly wanted secrecy, they would NOT wear four gloves on one hand and none on the other.

They arrived at a run-down, nearly forgotten building hidden on the outskirts of town. The windows were boarded up, and the door was an old and cobweby piece of warped wood that seemed to have been painted over so many times that it barely resembled its original form. A rusty sign hung crookedly beside the door with the word Liquidity carved in faded letters. Nonetheless, the door was locked, and the lock seemed oddly new.

Hardly secretive if you paint the bloody name on the sign!

“Step aside,” the mage gestured grandly at the door. “For I have to destroy this piece of wood.”

“Is this your house?” Lena asked. The mage didn’t answer, just broke into the house instead. He wriggled his gloved pointing finger around and the lock magically flew into the sky, never to be seen again. Lena gasped in excitement.

They came in. The inside was more spacious and cleaner than Blorbo had expected, save for a thin line of dust on the surface of the furniture. The walls were covered in faded diagrams of abstract symbols and incomprehensible mathematical equations, as well as a doodle of a donkey kissing a giant dragon in a corner.

As Blorbo was looking around, a quest popped up.

[QUEST: Solve the Equation]

Objective: Solve the math equations.

Reward: + 7 EXP for each equation solved.

Prerequisite: None.

Failure: Only dumb people fail.

Accept: YES/NO

Solve what? Do I look like a mathematician to you? I am not depressed and I have a social life.

He promptly clicked No. But before he was able to choose No, the system glitched and overrode that Quest with another one.

[QUEST: Expel the Dragon Queen]

Objective: Send the Dragon Queen to the Magic Domain where she belongs.

Reward: + 25 EXP, 1 random Beginner-level skill.

Failure: You die.

Accept: Yes/No

The Yes button happened to be stacked right on top of the No button for the Math quest.

[QUEST ACCEPTED]

What?! What Dragon Queen? Why would there be a Dragon Queen in an abandoned house for secluded mathematicians? System!

I’m so going to die.

No Dragon Queen showed up within the next minute. The Mage brushed the dust off a wooden chair and table at the far end of the room, then took out a leather-bound notebook from “It is ze time for great arcane knowledge of ze universe. To first control ze flow of magic, you must conquer ze flow of resources.”

You sat on the only seat…

Lena set up Blorbo and sat on him, prompting her status screen open.

Name: Lena Oakward

Race: Animated Human (Human)

Class: Party Mage

Level: 43

HP: ???

MP: ???

STR: 98

END: ???

AGI: ???

PER: ???

Skills

• Small Talk Mastery (???)

• Persuasive Bargaining (???)

• Household Diplomacy (???)

• Sorting Shiny Pebbles (MAX LEVEL)

• ???

• ???

Oh! I can see her level now. And her STR has gone up by 1 despite zero training? Does pushing the cart around everyday count as training for her?

“I’ve never asked,” Lena pondered. “I have yet to know your name. Can I ask for your name, so it is easier to address?”

Where’s that dragon queen though?

“A Mage can go by many names, but never his real name.” The Mage put his hands theatrically on his forehead, then proceeded to not give her his name. He opened the first page of the notebook to reveal some handwritten scribbles. “Are you prepared to learn ze overwhelming power of the ancients?”

Are we summoning the dragon queen today?

“Yes. Yes!” Lena clasped her hands together.

“Zen… let us start.” The mage narrowed his eyes, and the corner of his lips curved into an ominous curve as he took off one of his gloves to reveal the second glove. “Our first lesson of infinite knowledge: Debits and Credits.”

[I am a Table] Chapter 29

They weren’t sure if it had past midnight when they returned home, and it was much too cold outside without starting a fire, but they couldn’t afford to sleep yet.

Blorbo was placed at the same place he’d always stood, with Lena, Rob, and Anders around her. Lena smoothed the edges, her fingers brushing over the various towns and markers on the paper. "Here," she said, pointing to a small dot on the far east side, “Nokia is forty miles from here. That’s a good day’s journey. A journey that means we have to neglect the farm and can’t keep selling cabbages, not with the time it will take. We'll need supplies, and more than that…” She turned to Anders who took a sit on the other side with his hands folded. “Dad.”

“What?” He grumbled.

“We need to know if these knives are really worth all this trouble.”

Rob leaned over the map, scanning the route. "We’ve got the money from the duel," he said, glancing up at Lena. "It should be enough to get us to Nokia, if we make the journey. And we won’t need to work for a while.” 

“Then we go first thing tomorrow!” Anders raised his voice.

“But Lena’s right,” Rob continued.

“What?” Anders narrowes his eyes.

Lena continued, “Dad. You’ve been avoiding telling us so many things for so long, and we didn’t ask just because you’d yell at us and the conversation would just go nowhere. But we need to know now. Why are the knives so important?”

Anders turned to one side and replied with a gruff voice. “You don’t need to know the details. You just need to do what I tell you to do.”

“Then you do it.” Lena shrugged.

“Why you—” Anders was about to speak.

But Lena interrupted. “If you’re not going to say what this is really about, then we’re not helping. You’re an Archmage, right? If you think you can wring some spells out of trouble and slip away from the Mage Order unnoticed, you do it.”

“Wow, Lena.” Rob’s eyes widened.

Damn! Lena, tell him. If you were this passionate when you were trying to find your wand.

Anders’ face hardened, but he couldn’t come up with an answer. He looked away, his eyes downcast. His fingers gripped the edge of the table, and for a long moment, no one spoke.

Finally, some peace and quiet.

The cat came over and decided to randomly swipe Blorbo’s leg.

ARGH!

[-1 HP]

What the hell is wrong with you, foul beast?

That swipe was actually so powerful it managed to tear through Blorbo’s STR and damaged his HP.

Then the cat just walked away.

Finally, Anders sighed. “Fine. Those knives… are a major source of my power. Not all, but a lot. They are Legendary enchanted weapons.”

“What?” Lena blinked.

Anders took a deep breath. His mouth opened then closed many times before finally he decided to speak up. “They are known as the Sundered Blades of Holoscopic Power. If all the knives are together, they unleash unthinkable power. These blades were meant to be wielded by the most skilled of mages—those who could master their unique enchantments.”

What kind of world is this? Why are mages fighting with… blades? What’s next? Knights shooting arrows and hunters weilding staff?

“And you just shoved it inside a cupboard and walked outside?”

“The most dangerous place is the safest!” He threw his hand into the air. “I’ve been putting it in the same place all those years, and nothing ever happened. Why should I have been worried?”

And you didn’t care to, like, I don’t know, SIMPLY HAVE ONE OF THEM WITH YOU SO WHOEVER STEALS IT CAN’T ACTIVATE ITS POWER? Gosh, why is everyone in this household—

“I still keep the remaining knife with me, just in case.” Anders pulled out a knife from inside his robes. It was long and slender, the blade etched with bizarre runes that pulsed faintly with an eerie green glow. 

Nevermind. He’s not a total idiot.

Rob and Lena simply stared at the knife, speechless.

Anders growled, “Now you have it, you forced me to tell you the story. Are you willing to help or not?”

“Then can I learn magic, Dad?” Lena asked.

Anders shot her a sharp look. “No. I’ve told you before, Lena. Magic is not something you just—”

“But Daaaad,” Lena’s voice suddenly turned high-pitched. “you’re the great Archmage of the Sundered Blades! You can’t leave me out of this! Please, I want to learn too! I’ll be super careful with it. Don’t you want to see how strong your precious daughter can become with your brand of magic? It would be a shame if the Woodywise magical bloodline ends here!” She batted her eyelashes dramatically, her tone was so saccharine it could give Blorbo blood sugar.

Blorbo would’ve covered his ears if he could. It was almost painful to listen to. That voice. That tone. It was too much.

Lena continued, “You’re soooo wise, and I’m just a helpless little girl who wants to learn! Please, please, please, please?” She punctuated each ‘please’ with an exaggerated nod and a grin.

“You do not get to learn anything! If you want to learn so much, go out there and learn yourself!” He stood and walked out of the room, into his own tiny quarter.

“Ohhhh, it worked!” Lena turned to Rob with newfound joy.

“But he still said no,” Rob’s face was puzzled.

“Oh, Rob, you know nothing.” She grinned. “You always start out with an impossible request, then take their offer when they haggle it down. He didn’t forbid me from learning magic by my own means. That’s good enough for me.”

“Oh,” Rob simply replied with that.

Oh. My. God. I’ve NEVER been happier than Lena is my owner and not an enemy.

[QUEST COMPLETED—Amend the Wrongs]

Reward: +10 CP, Lena’s Morale +90

Wait. The last couple of days were so hectic I forgot about this quest. It’s only completed now.

I guess it makes sense that it completes now. Lena seems much happier. Good for her.

“We should go to sleep now,” Lena said. “I’m so very tired. I need to meet the robed mage tomorrow and learn the secret arts of business liquidity.”

[I am a Table] Chapter 28

Bimbleton was quick to launch his table like a projectile. But this time, things were different.

Rob struck first. With a grunt, he threw Blorbo with all his might, even before Bimbleton could shout, “Extremely Extremely Almighty Push!”

And Blorbo flew.

Woah woah woah woah woah! I can’t see a thing!

Blorbo’s legs flared out like wings, and his agility sent him bolting toward the cushion near the other end.

“Go, Blorbo!” Lena shouted.

But the obsidian table was about to get in the way. Blorbo’s speed was so much faster, but the other table was close enough to shield it first. 

The sheer force of the impact between the two would destroy Blorbo in an instant. It had a STR of 22! Three times more than Blorbo, and also eclipsed Blorbo’s END of 16.

“You’re much too slow, cousin!” Bimbleton shouted.

Blorbo’s flight path was dangerously close. Rob couldn’t stop it now. There was no turning back.

In a flash, Blorbo’s legs were within inches of the obsidian monstrosity, its edge sharp and deadly, just as the tables were about to clash.

Even though his sight was blinded because of the speed, Blorbo knew he had to do something. I must lean! Less surface area, more speed!

He leaned once. Then twice.

It might just be enough.

With a final twist, he landed on the side of the cushion.

The cushion absorbed Blorbo’s momentum, then pushed it to the other side, and propelled it into the path of the obsidian table. The weight of the obsidian table collided with the cushion with devastating force, and in that crucial instant, the cushion redirected the obsidian table’s leg into the ground.

The obsidian table’s leg slammed into the polished floor with a tremendous crash, sending the entire table flipping forward. It smashed into the ground with a force that shattered its legs. Then its top cannoned into the ground. 

A deafening sound erupted.

The table crumpled in a heap of shattered obsidian shards.

Blorbo, still on the cushion, skidded to a stop. He didn’t lose a single HP.

Lena blinked in disbelief, her mouth falling open. “We… we did it?”

“H-how…” Bimbleton also stood like a statue. The side of his face twitched non-stop.

The butler, who had been standing motionless, now slowly approached the wreckage of Bimbleton’s table. His expression was one of awe, but soon turned into professional detachment.

“I… I believe,” the butler began, “that this is the end of the duel.” He hesitated, glancing at the shattered pieces of the obsidian table. “The damage is quite clear. I’m afraid Master Bimbleton’s table is no longer in fighting condition.”

Lena stepped forward, her heart pounding. “Then we’ve won?”

The butler nodded. “It would appear so.”

[QUEST COMPLETED—Table Duel – A Rematch of Legends]
Reward: +5 EXP, +10 HP, +5 CP

She jumped in joy, then hugged Rob tightly. “I knew it! I knew you have it in you!”

“We did it, Lena.” He hugged her back. “We did it.”

Hello? Where’s my hug? I nearly died for you three?! I’m the one who needs attention here; preferably medical attention! And my surface is still aching—ACK!

[-1 HP]

What? How did I lose 1 HP?

[Health Point deducted for fatigue]

How does that even make sense? Furniture can’t tire.

The guards, who had been holding their breath through the entire ordeal, erupted into murmurs and whispers, only for Bimbleton to bombard them with barrages of shouts. “Which one of you daft knuckleheads didn’t remove that cushion? Which one of you, huh? If I ever see your faces again, I’ll make sure you aren’t stepping foot into Iakesi ever again!”

Anders burst into laughter. “Ha! And that bastard said I’m the angry one!”

The butler, after a long pause, stepped forward with a final declaration, “Master Rob and Lena, your table is victorious. Congratulations. You are free to retrieve your table.”

One guard dared to clap, and Bimbleton bonked him in the head.

Anders jogged over to Bimbleton. The old man was now the one acting smug. “How is it now? Huh, huh? Where are my knives? Who took it? Who’s this Master Shifu? Spit it all out.”

Bimbleton stood there, frozen for a moment. The twitching on his face was now uncontrollable. “Ugh… Fine. Fine!” he barked. “Get out of this room! Get out! I’ll show you the way.”

He walked first, then everyone else followed. Lena and Rob, of course, didn’t forget to bring Blorbo along. Bimbleton opened the door and started walking down the hall, grumbling the whole way. “This is ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. I should have won, I should have. I even…” His voice trailed off as he fumed.

Eventually, they arrived at a door at the end of a long corridor. Bimbleton opened it with a huff and waved them in. “Come in,” he muttered as they stepped into a extravagantly decorated guest room.

Rob and Lena sat down on a pair of armchairs, and Blorbo was gently set down onto a plush rug.

So soft! This is where I belong. Only the finest of duelists get to dip their toes on such lavish rugs!

Bimbleton walked over to his desk, where a large wooden chest sat nearby. “You want information? You’ll get it, though I don’t know why you’re bothering. My table’s destroyed and my day’s ruined.” He opened the chest and pulled out a large, leather-bound book. “Now, what was it you wanted to know?” he asked, flipping through the pages.

“Do you have the memory of a goldfish?” Anders growled. “I said Master Shifu!”

“You should have said so before I opened this book!” He closed the book, then reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a rolled-up piece of parchment, unsealing it with a loud snap. He scanned it for a moment, his fingers trailing over the elegant script.

Bimbleton then spoke, “He was one of my past trade partners. We worked together years ago, selling silk and fine china to the lords and barons across the land. He supplied me with some of the finest goods, rare items from distant lands that fetched a high price in court. But I haven’t heard from him in years.” He paused, his gaze flicking up to Rob. “He’s a mysterious one. Always very secretive, but I never had any reason to question him. He made his money and disappeared.”

“He was secret because he stole all the bloody goods he supplied you with! That bastard!” Anders threw his hands in the air.

“I do not believe there is a thing in your residence worth stealing, Mr. Woodywise.” Bimbleton clicked his tongue. “But that will be all you get from me. I haven’t heard from him since.”

“Nonsense!” Anders rebut. “A filthy capitalist such as yourself must at least know who that scoundrel did business with after that.”

“Ah, yes. But you didn’t ask for that,” Bimbleton replied.

“Then I’m asking now!”

“Alright, alright,” he grumbled, flipping through the pages of his book for a moment before slamming it shut. “You really don’t know when to give up, do you?”

Anders was still standing, seething with frustration. “You’ve been talking all this time, but you haven’t given us any real answers!”

Bimbleton looked up at Anders with a sneer. “What more do you want, Woodywise? I’ve told you what I know. But fine, if you insist.” He rubbed his temples and muttered something under his breath, before retrieving a small scroll from his drawer. He unrolled it with a dramatic flourish, his fingers delicately tracing over the parchment as he scanned it. “Adrien Silverleaf. That’s his last trading partner. He resides in the Township of Nokia. Now get out!” He pointed toward the door.

What? So early? Let me recuperate first! I’ve stared at Death in the face today! At least let me stay on this rug some more!

“Out!” Bimbleton repeated.

Can you at least allow me to cut up pieces of this rug to bring home? I promise I’ll only cut four holes the size of my leg out of the rug.

Lena put a hand on Rob’s arm, and another on Anders’. “Let’s just go. We’ve got what we need.”

With that, Bimbleton turned toward the door, waving them off. “Goodbye, then. And good luck finding Silverleaf. I’m sure you’ll need it.”

The door to the guest room opened, and the guards stepped aside, allowing them to leave.

[I am a Table] Chapter 27

Lena hugged Blorbo the entire way back to her position, feeling every single crack on his surface. “You’re going to be fine, little thing. You’re going to be fine,” she whispered.

Ouch. Ouch! Don’t touch me there, you weirdo. Who caresses a table?

She gently placed Blorbo face-up, looking at Rob expectantly as she said, “I don’t want to fight anymore, Rob. Blorbo’s too damaged. Maybe we should concede.”

Yeah, you sure as damn hell should! Maybe then I’ll be able to forfeit this stupid quest!

Anders immediately raised his voice, “You care about that useless table more than my expensive knife collection?”

“Then why don’t you step in and help, Anders?” Rob asked. “Actually, don’t. I’ll do it.”

“Rob... what are you going to do?” Her voice was shaky, but there was a dash of hope in her eyes.

“His movements have always been the same. We can win. Trust me like I’ve trusted you. We’re going to lose nothing today,” he reassured her.

She went silent for a moment. “Okay.”

Rob took a deep breath as he closed his eyes. He exhaled as he opened those eyes, and they were full of a fire he didn’t have before.

The butler raises his hand. "Round 4, begin!"

Bimbleton smirked, his obsidian table already charging forward with unnerving speed. “This is the end for you, Blorbo! Say goodbye to your elegant moves! Extremely Almighty Push!”

But Rob didn’t flinch.

“Robert? What are you doing?” Lena called out.

Rob pulled Blorbo a step back.

Robbie boy… My life’s on the line here…

The table was closing the gap, fast.

Rob pulled Blorbo another step back.

“Rob!”

Rob!

They were only inches apart.

Rob pulled Blorbo yet another step back. His legs now touched the sandpaper patch near the door.

Robbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!

At the moment of impact, he pushed Blorbo into position, just before the sandpaper patch, and yelled, “I Don’t Have A Name For This Skill!”

The collision came.

Blorbo’s surface shuddered, the power of Bimbleton’s table crashing against it. But instead of breaking, Rob twisted Blorbo with precision, using the sandpaper patch’s resistance to slow down the obsidian table. For a moment, it looks like Blorbo is about to collapse—but then, in a flash of brilliance, the tables scraped across the ground with a screeching sound, completely dodging the obsidian table. The obsidian table's movement was disrupted, and it bounced back awkwardly.

The obsidian table lost its balance just enough to send it careening off-course, and for a brief second, the table's surface buckled! Not enough to break it, but it caused a visible dent.

Blorbo was unharmed.

I’m alive!

The butler stepped forward to examine the damage. Before he could speak, Bimbleton stepped forward, his face flushed with indignation. “Unacceptable! This is a breach of the rules! You pulled the table back too far!” His voice dripped with outrage as he pointed toward Rob, ready to throw a tantrum over what he deemed a questionable move. “That maneuver should be disqualified! You’re not supposed to—”

“Shut up, you dangling donkey!” Anders growled.

Lena immediately interjected, her voice sharp and full of confidence. “Hold on, Master. Didn’t the butler himself say that maneuvers happening outside of the oil slick surface are totally within the confines of the laws in the duel?” She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. 

The butler, who had been staring down Bimbleton in quiet contemplation, hesitated. He glanced at the rules again, his lips pressed in a thin line. “Well, yes... That’s true,” he mumbled.

Bimbleton stepped on the floor loudly, but there was nothing he could do.

Rob turned to the butler. “So, what’s the verdict?” he asked, keeping his tone neutral.

The butler took a moment to write down a few more notes before clearing his throat. “For this round, I’m awarding Rob and Lena a score of 6, for both the strength and grace of the maneuver,” he said. “However,” he added, pausing dramatically before looking at Bimbleton’s table, “I’m giving Master Bimbleton’s table a score of 5 for its attempt, despite the imbalance. No points were deducted for the error.”

Anders exploded into a string of curses, his voice rising to a pitch that made the guards flinch.

“WHAT?! A SIX?! A SIX for that?! Are you serious?” He shouted, his face turning crimson with fury. “That table was nearly sent to the moon! And you give them a six? For what? A bloody pirouette? A six? For a table that should’ve been reduced to firewood?!”

“Please, Mister Woodywise, control yourself,” the butler interjected calmly. “The decision has been made.”

Bimbleton scowled, clearly unsatisfied with the outcome. “But it’s still not enough!” he snapped. “Your score is worthless! You’ll never catch up to my score despite your feeble attempts at breaches!”

The butler gave an awkward cough. “Well, Master Bimbleton, it’s just... a discrepancy, not a breach,” he added sheepishly. “And the score stands.”

[CURRENT TALLY] 

Rob/Lena: 16

Bimbleton: 21

Anders was nearly frothing at the mouth now. “These scores are a disgrace to the noble art of table dueling!”

Didn’t you say this was a rubbish noble tradition before?

Lena and Rob knew better than to protest. They were already planning their strategy for the final round. Too bad, because Blorbo was busy listening to Anders’ babble, he could only catch the end of the conversation.

“Let’s go with that,” Lena nodded.

“Yeah. We won’t win on points. But we will obliterate that obsidian table.”

Rob stared at the obsidian table with utmost concentration as he put Blorbo into position.

Whatever you’re scheming, Rob, you better make it worth it. Bimbleton won’t fall for the same trick twice. If he’s any smart, he might push his table just lightly enough for it to dawdle and be solid and win via scores.

But maybe even he’s too proud of a man to cheat that outright. Hopefully.

That move with the sandpaper had worked once, but now Bimbleton would expect it and counter it. After all, he was a filthy capitalist, and they were the best in the business of screwing other people.

Rob readied himself. Bimbleton readied himself with a wicked smile on his face. 

Last round. No second chances.

The butler raised his hand. “Final round. Round 5, begin!” he announced.

[I am a Table] Chapter 26

“Robert, dear.” Lena lightly tapped him on his shoulder. “Don’t push yourself if you feel down. I will fight for us.” She stood tall, her eyes burning with determination. “Let me take over for Round 2.”

“But—”

She placed a finger in front of his lips. “Come back when you’ve cheered yourself up. I can handle this.”

He nodded and moved aside. “Be careful.”

“I will.”

No, Robbie, come back! Get your butt back here you coward!

Lena took a deep breath and surveyed the field. Bimbleton, though still smug, had noticeable droplets of sweat on his forehead. His breath was coming out in ragged gasps. It was subtle, but she could see the strain in his movements. This was her chance.

“I’m going for flair points,” she murmured to herself, determination setting in. She glanced back at Blorbo. “Let’s show them how it’s done!”

Just don’t kill me please.

The butler raised his hand. “Round 2, start!”

“Almighty Push!” Bimbleton shoved the obsidian table forward with all his remaining strength. The speed was still remarkable, but the table had slowed down somewhat compared to last round.

As the obsidian table came hurtling toward them, she pushed Blorbo gently at first, feeling the weight of the moment. Her hands gripped the surface of Blorbo’s smooth wood, fixing the angle.

“Don’t think you nobles are the only ones with Table Dueling skills!” She yelled. “Watch my skill! The Swan Dance!”

Why are you people announcing your moves? Why do you even have names for Table Dueling skills?! It doesn’t even make sense. Swans don’t dance!

Lena shifted her weight, and with a much sharper hurl, Blorbo slid forward at an angle, gliding across the slippery surface with an impossible grace.

But this time, the obsidian table made itself look big! It was pushed at an angle that covered as much ground as possible! There was no place to avoid impact in a corridor so narrow!

Then…

Blorbo’s two left legs… stuck into the walls as it glided past. With two legs sliding on the wall and two on the ground, Blorbo surfed forward, clinging to the wall like a spider. He heard a swish of air as he glided, and he could see the corner of his surface was slightly higher than the obsidian table’s sidearm! He was going to survive this, with style!

Lena, you’re a bloody genius—ACK!

The edge of Blorbo’s front right leg collided with the rearing lion statue on Bimbleton's table. The force of the impact sent Blorbo spinning into the air, an accidental pirouette of graceful beauty. His wood creaked and groaned in the air as he spun like a ballerina, the elegant turn in the air nearly defying physics.

[-6 HP]

“What?” Everyone in the room gasped in unison.

GAH! A sharp jolt of agony through his surface as a part of his leg cracked under pressure. The reinforced wood that had hit the lion statue snapped clean off, spinning away mid-air like a broken shard of glass.

Yet, despite the destruction, Blorbo’s spin was so fluid, so delicate that the whole thing almost looked intentional. He landed on the ground on his legs so graciously that he didn’t even bounce or wobble. Then the obsidian table stopped skidding.

“I… I did that? I did that!” Luna jumped. “I totally did that! I even announced my move before pushing!”

I did that! I’m so agile! My agility did it! I told all of you it was worth it having such a high Agility score!

The butler scribbled down on his parchment. “Hmm, a stunning spin indeed, but you took damage and was pushed too far. The leg was somewhat disfigured. 5 it is,” he said nonchalantly. “The points go to Master Bimbleton. Effortless and indestructible from his table.” He scribbled another note. 

“What?” Anders threw his hands into the air. “I’ve never seen such a spin in my entire life! You gave a 5 to a never-before-seen mid-air spin?”

Lena clenched her fists. “You’re giving him a 6 after that?!”

But just as Lena was about to protest further, Blorbo noticed something odd. The system glitched for a moment, and then… a status screen popped up.

Name: Obsidian Table
Race: Inanimate Furniture (Table)
Class: None
Level: ??
HP: 39/39
MP: ??
STR: 22
END: 10
AGI: ??
PER: ??

Skills:

• Resilient Surface (Level 1) – Reduces damage from blunt impacts.

• ??

Aura:

• Obsidian Toughness (Permanent)

What?

Wait. I touched the lion. Is it considered the butt? Why is it the butt? Tables don’t have butts.

The obsidian took zero damage. ZERO. I can’t touch it if it has so much STR.

“The score stands.” The butler smiled placidly. “And so it is. Round 2 is over. The score is set.” He raised a hand to signal for the next round. “Let’s move on to Round 3.”

[CURRENT TALLY]

Rob/Lena: 7

Bimbleton: 10

Blorbo wasn’t sure if he was more frustrated by the injustice or the sheer absurdity of being a part of a table duel. This wasn’t what he had imagined for his post-life career. He should’ve been learning spells by now!

Lena was still visibly annoyed by the result, but she still patted her table. “Alright, Blorbo, we’ve got this! Let’s show them what we’re made of! I’m going to use my new move... The Whirlpool Waltz!”

Wait, what—

Before Blorbo could ponder more, Lena pushes him forward with all her might. He started first this round. 

Bimbleton snickered as he countered, “Watch closely, you peasant-table, and witness the Titanic Shove!”

The obsidian table hurtled toward Blorbo at breakneck speed, but it really wasn’t that different from Almighty Push.

However, Blorbo suddenly had a sharp twist just as he’s about to make contact with Bimbleton’s obsidian monstrosity. Blorbo, still spinning from Lena’s earlier push, perfectly caught the edge of the polished floor. His agility kicked in and with the might of a whirlpool, his body flipped just enough that the obsidian table whiffed past him, the terrifying weight of it barely missing by a hair.

How the hell did I do that? My Agility is CRAZY!

Lena gasps. “Did you see that? The Whirlpool Waltz worked!”

Rob yelled from the sidelines. “Way to go, sweetheart! It was the Spin of a Thousand Winds!”

Anders smacked on Rob’s arm. “Do not give it that name. That sounds like a cultivator’s art.”

But alas, fate was not on his side. While evading the brutal force of Bimbleton’s table, Blorbo’s leg brushed the side of the floor, causing him to bounce just a little too far. His movement stalled, and he lost control. Then he tripped on a cushion.

What? Where did this cushion even come from? Who threw it in here? Bimbleton! That cheating bastard—

CRASH!

His surface smashed into the ground. 

[-8 HP]

ACK!

Lena covered her mouth. “Blorbo! No!”

Hands on his side, his smug had turned into a slow laugh. “Ha! That’s what you get for naming your table Blorbo!”

The butler, ever the impartial observer, stood stoically, scribbling notes on his parchment. “That was a beautiful move,” the butler said, his tone somewhat appreciative. “But unfortunately, the damage is evident. A score of 4 for the whirlpool escape... but with the ensuing crash and loss of mobility, I must give you a 3 for the round. It seems the table has taken some damage and lost its earlier finesse. As for Bimbleton… 6, of course. As consistent as ever.”

[CURRENT TALLY]

Rob/Lena: 10

Bimbleton: 16

[I am a Table] Chapter 25

Anders grumbled as he stormed forward, “This is nonsensical. A table duel? I will not participate in any snobby noble tradition!”

However, before Anders could take another step, the five guards surrounding the room, who had been standing silently like well-choreographed statues, sprang into action and blocked his 

path.

“Move out of my way, muppetty puppets!” the old man snarled, but the guards didn't budge an inch.

Bimbleton said, “No need for such abrasiveness, Mr. Woodywise. My dear friend, let’s not forget that the choice of whether to disclose any information lies squarely with me. Now, if you really want to know where your knives are, I suggest you reconsider your approach.”

Lena shot a glance at Rob, who was already running a hand through his hair. He heaved a sigh. “Let’s duel, then.”

The butler stepped forward and cleared his throat before reading from a piece of parchment he’d been holding, “We shall proceed with the most simplistic of duels—The Table Joust. The rules are simple, as is tradition in these matters. The duel will take place over five rounds. Both tables will be pushed along a specially designed, semi-slippery surface.” He paused before continuing. The goal is to push the opposing table into submission, causing it to falter, break, or otherwise lose its fighting ability. Should a table be destroyed beyond capability to continue—whether it cracks, splinters, or simply ceases to function—it will be disqualified. If the table is deemed incapable of moving or if its structure is compromised in a way that it can no longer participate, it is immediately out of the competition. As for the rest,” he continued, “we measure the condition of the tables by the end of each round and tabulate the score.”

Heh, tabulate.

The butler cleared his throat again, this time with a slight flourish. “Ah yes, I nearly forgot the finer details. Each round will be scored on a scale of one to ten. Points will be awarded based on two key factors: the power of the strike and the flair with which it is executed. A powerful strike that sends your opponent’s table reeling will earn you points, of course. But an expertly executed joust, one that displays both strength and elegance, will earn you extra consideration. A strike that combines the two—grace and power—is sure to impress the judges, as it demonstrates mastery not only of the physicality but of the art of table dueling.”

Blorbo felt dread. This was no ordinary duel. This is stupid. What if the handlers injure themselves? What are the rules for that?

But duelists cared not for their own safety. Jousting was hardly any safer, so was wagon racing.

“I trust you will referee this duel in the most just and fair manner, as always,” Bimbleton interjected, smooth but commanding. “After all, we wouldn’t want any... misunderstandings, would we?”

That sounds awfully like they’re totally going to rig the results.

The butler nodded with a polite bow as he folded the parchment and placed it back into his jacket. “Of course, Master Bimbleton. Rest assured, I will uphold the highest standards of impartiality.”

Then he smiled at Bimbleton. It was so subtle, so fleeting, yet his extraordinary PER: 15 could sense it!

They’re definitely rigging the results. I’m done for.

The servants began to carry the obsidian table, lifting it over their heads. Rob and Lena, on the other hand, were tasked with transporting Blorbo. Lena was particularly careful with him, and even gave him little pats as if he was a pet that needed reassuring.

They reached the room designed specifically for such barbaric events. It was a long and narrow space that was not much wider than a corridor. On the surface was a thin layer of oil slick carefully applied across polished marble tiles. The oil didn’t pool, but it shimmered faintly beneath the glow of the chandelier overhead. 

The servants carefully set down the obsidian table on one side, and Rob and Lena placed Blorbo at the opposite end. 

"Are you ready for this?" Lena whispered to Blorbo. “I know you’re always ready, you little warrior.”

No! If I have legs, I’d have already fled this cursed place!

“Well then,” the butler said, giving a nod of approval, “Shall we start the challenge?”

The first round was about to begin. Bimbleton and Rob stood by their respective tables, waiting for the signal. Lena turned to Rob and whispered her instructions. “Darling. You should just push the table with strength, pin down the side a bit so it flicks in the air. Hopefully, we’ll dodge the other table and win style points.”

Rob shook his head. “That’s too risky. Bimbleton will use everything he’s got. If we can’t get the table fully airborne, we’ll break a leg. Trust me.”

Yeah Robbie boy, I trust you more than I trust the woman who bet my legs away.

As the duel began, Bimbleton immediately slammed his obsidian table forward like a battering ram. “Watch my skill!” He roared. “Almighty Push!”

His table rocketed across the room like a cannonball with a side of destruction.

Aaah! Hell nah! Save me, Rob. Robbie! Do something. Robbie boyyyyy! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!

Rob nudged the table to the side, gently tapping the edge as Blorbo leaned to avoid the incoming collision. Blorbo touched the side of the wall with a weakling thud.

Then the obsidian table blasted past it. The force of the wind alone wobbled Blorbo, even though the two didn’t connect.

The table travelled so fast, it nearly smashed into the door on the far side of the room. The only thing that stopped it was a strategically placed patch of sandpaper near the door, designed to slow down runaway tables.

I almost died there! I would’ve gotten ripped in half if Rob’s listened to Lena!

The butler immediately scribbled down on his notes to tally the scores before turning to Rob. “Rob, I’ve given you a score of 2. A light tap hardly qualifies as a proper strike.” He then turned to Bimbleton with a grin. “As for Master Bimbleton, I’m awarding him a 4. His push was strong, direct, and purposeful. The table was set on a perfect, unyielding line.”

[CURRENT TALLY]

Rob/Lena: 2

Bimbleton: 4

Anders jumped. “What? How does that make sense? He’s out of bounds! The table flew across the room!”

The butler was unphased. “There is no rule against that, as long as the table didn’t damage itself. It was a good push, as all can see.”

Lena protested. “That was way too much force! He could’ve hit me had I not been against the wall!”

“I’m afraid what happens outside of bounds is not within the rules of the game, miss,” the butler replied nonchalantly.

I knew it! The tabulated results are rigged! No way I can win with points!

Anders muttered, “If only I can blast their smug smiles off their faces…”

“Duelists, please prepare for Round 2,” the butler announced.

Rob’s shoulders slumped as he put his hands against Blorbo. “We cannot win.”

[I am a Table] Chapter 24

With gilded fence posts, elaborate ivy carvings, a fountain with no actual water, the Bimbleton residence loomed before them, a grotesquely lavish display of wealth and bad taste. 

And in front of that very gate, bellowing like a deranged naysayer in the middle of the town square, stood Anders. “BIMBLETON! YOU FESTERING TOAD! SHOW YOUR COWARDLY FACE! SHOW YOUR FACE RIGHT NOW YOU DING-DONG KING-KONG!”

Blorbo, still strapped onto the cart, cringed so hard he felt his wood grain tighten.

You’re literally asking them for a favor. Why’re you cursing them out?

The guards at the gate, two poor souls who probably didn’t get paid enough for this nonsense, stood stiffly. Their faces froze as if they wanted so badly to flinch and frown but couldn’t.

One of them cleared his throat. “Sir, please—”

“DON’T ‘SIR’ ME! I KNOW HE’S IN THERE, HIDING LIKE A ROTTEN TURNIP! YOU TELL THAT BLOSSOMING BUTTOCK THAT ANDERS WOODYWISE DEMANDS HIS PRESENCE!”

Lena, standing next to Rob, pinched the bridge of her nose and looked at him hesitantly. “Dad.”

The old man screamed even louder, “BY THE ANCESTORS, IF YOU DO NOT OPEN THIS GATE IN THE NEXT TEN SECONDS, I WILL SUMMON A DREADFUL PLAGUE UPON YOUR FLOCKS! I WILL ENSURE EVERY CABBAGE YOU EAT FOR THE NEXT TWENTY YEARS TASTES FAINTLY OF SOAP!”

This man was probably not the archmaster negotiator back in the days.

The gates creaked open, and out came Master Bimbleton in a ridiculous velvet robe as if that was the only color he knew, embroidered with obnoxiously intricate gold filigrees. Five guards flanked him, standing at attention like decorative furniture.

“Well, well, well,” Bimbleton drawled, voice dripping with condescension. “If it isn’t Anders Woodywise, the esteemed foreigner, gracing my humble doorstep with his usual… charm.”

Anders growled, “SHOVE YOUR FAKE POLITENESS UP YOUR—”

Bimbleton cut him off with a pointedly smug smile. “Now, now. Do keep your voice down. You wouldn’t want to frighten the decent folk, would you? Oh—wait. My mistake.” He tapped his chin, mock-surprised. “Oh wait, you would. You’re not exactly beloved in these parts, are you, Woodywise?”

Robert cleared his throat, stepped forward, and spoke in a measured tone, “Master Bimbleton, we’re not here to cause trouble.”

“Oh? Are you now?” The corner of Bimbleton’s lips curved. “My farmer cousin has spoken. And what, pray tell, does agriculture want from high society today?”

Rob ignored the jab. “We were hoping for information,” he said. “Someone broke into our house last night. They didn’t take anything except for a set of knives—”

“Twelve knives,” Anders interjected, glaring daggers at Bimbleton. “All with immaculate craftsmanship and imported steel.”

Bimbleton blinked once. “Ahhh. And you suspect that I, Pierre-Philippe Bimbleton, would lower myself to common burglary?”

“No, we suspect you know who did,” Lena cut in, arms crossed. “Who in town deals with imported magical artifacts, odd relics, or good interior decorators?”

“Oh, Lena, my dear.” Bimbleton’s entire demeanor morphed into a saccharine sweetness of a snake oil salesman. “Why didn’t you just say so?” He glanced at the table. 

Lena was about to speak, but Bimbleton had already interrupted her, “Ah, I see you brought your table as well.” Finally, he turned on his heel. “Come in, come in! Let us discuss this matter properly. Over tea, of course.”

Rob clenched his jaw, forced a smile, and followed his wife inside, all the while saying nothing. Anders muttered something spitefully, but Blorbo’s Perception was too low to be able to listen to it.

***

Instead of being led to a cozy sitting area with a kettle of tea, the three were led by Bimbleton and his butler, ushered down a long lined with paintings of Bimbleton’s commissioned paintings of himself. They passed through the corridor until they arrived at a cavernous room that was noticeably colder than the others. It didn’t help that Blorbo unsocked legs had to touch the marble floor, and that sent a chill up his non-existent spine.

With one arm outstretched, Bimbleton announced, “Here we are. My collection of masterworks.”

Before their eyes was something akin to a museum exhibit. So many tables. But the most noticeable piece was a mahogany table placed at the center of the room. Its legs were sculpted to resemble rearing lions, claws extended and paws bracing the floor. “This one has never lost a duel,” Bimbleton commented.

Beside it stood a velvet ottoman, an obnoxiously large piece draped in Bimbleton’s favorite color with a tufted top so overstuffed it practically looked like a cloud. A little to the left, positioned against the far wall, was a baroque cabinet, its doors made of polished walnut and inlaid with gold.

Lena muttered so softly that Blorbo could barely hear her, “This man only runs a trade guild… But he’s richer than some Lords.”

As the walked toward the far corner of the room, Bimbleton pointed toward a small, unassuming table. “And now, my friends. I present to you my weakest piece.” Even though Bimbleton claimed it was his “weakest,” there was nothing humble about it. The table was crafted from polished obsidian, and the edges were softened with swirling patterns of silver inlays. It had a design of elongated griffins wrapped around the legs, their wings raised as if they were about to take flight.

Look at all these beautiful furniture! When am I going to be ask magnificent as them? While they sit here exude power, I have to sell cabbages and touch ribbons! I’m tired of these lowly, irrelevant quests! Give me real challenges! Give me something to fight! I want a horse, a sword, and shiny armor!

Anders scoffed.

Lena eyed it warily. "Surely this couldn’t be the Master’s weakest piece?" she echoed. "This looks like it could feed a kingdom."

“Ah, but that’s the beauty of it, isn’t it?” Bimbleton grinned. “The craftsmanship is indeed impeccable, but it’s... overly simplistic for my collection. Far too plain to be of true value, don't you think?”

I mean, this thing has got nothing on Elviswood. Although obsidian looks posh, they’re rather cheap and brittle in comparison.

“Why are you showing us your collection of tables?” Rob asked.

“Why of course.” His grin grew wider, before it turned into teeth-gritting. “I would like a rematch. A table duel. And since I granted you my mercy by picking my weakest piece, I get to choose the type of duel.”

Gulp.

A large, glaring red exclamation mark appeared above Bimbleton’s head, blinking ominously like a warning light in the middle of a thunderstorm.

Blorbo had never seen that before, but he knew what it meant.

[NEW QUEST: Table Duel – A Rematch of Legends]
Objective: Accept Bimbleton’s challenge for a table duel and win.
Reward: +5 EXP, +10 HP, +5 CP
Failure: You’ll never receive any information about the potential burglar.
Accept: YES/YES

A mandatory quest.

Wait… I’m fighting against THAT? That obsidian table with lion heads on the rear?

On second thought… maybe we don’t have to do this, haha. I’m chill with selling cabbages, man. I love cabbages. Have loved cabbages all my life. Love this life, man.

[I am a Table] Chapter 23

Now, how to actually do it?

He scanned the room. Anders was closing in on Lena and Rob, eyes sharp, interrogation mode fully activated. They had approximately ten seconds before their cabbage continent house of lies collapsed in on itself.

Blorbo needed a distraction, and a really good one. Something like—

What if the old man wasn’t the one who rearranged the house? He’s never home during the days.

Then, where are the knives?

That’s right! The twelve missing knives! If he played this right, he could kill two birds with one stone.

Blorbo activated Adjustable Angle and leaned a perfect 2 degrees. Just enough to shake a nearby chair. The chair swayed ominously, and Anders’ eyes flicked toward it. 

Perfect.

Then, with a carefully timed surface tremor, Blorbo sent a single spoon—one of the old, dented ones Lena never used, but was somehow on the chair—clattering onto the floor.

Anders’ head snapped toward the sound like an eagle spotting prey. “What was that?” His voice was sharp.

Lena and Rob froze, horrified.

Blorbo internally cheered. Yes! Focus on the spoon! Ask him why the spoon is there! Forget about Majapahit! Forget about invisible cabbage!

Anders walked over and picked up the spoon, turning it over in his hands. His brow furrowed. “Why is this warm?”

Blorbo did not know why the spoon was warm. But that was an EXCELLENT question, and one that had nothing to do with Lena or Rob.

Rob cleared his throat. “Uh. Must be the... humidity?”

Anders frowned. “It’s raining.”

Lena nodded furiously. “Right. Moist air conducts heat!”

You just need to ask him why the spoon was on the chair, idiots! What are you babbling about?

Anders slowly turned the spoon over in his palm. Then his gaze swept the room, his frown deepening. “Everything has shifted. Have you done this? Where are my knives?”

Yes! The perfect shift in topic!

Lena and Rob both jumped at the chance.

“Great question!” Lena said. “Where are your knives?”

Rob nodded aggressively. “You always keep them in the cupboard, don’t you?”

Anders’ eyes narrowed. “…I do.”

Blorbo exhaled in relief as the System popped up.

[QUEST COMPLETED: The Art of Misdirection (1)]
Reward Granted: +2 PER, +5 CP

[Passive Skill Unlocked: Forked Tongue (Level I)]

Description: Subtle object interactions (like leaning, shaking, or shifting weight) are less likely to be noticed as intentional. If someone suspects foul play, they are 20% more likely to blame someone else first.

Then why is it named Forked Tongue if there’s no tongue involved?

Anders threw open the cupboard doors, only to find emptiness staring back at him. He bellowed, then, with the kind of predatory energy that only a man who has lost all his knives at once could radiate, tore through the house. 

“Where is it? Where are they?!”

Lena and Rob watched in alarm as he flung open drawers, flipped cushions, and even checked inside the bread box—as if one of his twelve missing knives had politely folded itself into a loaf of sourdough.

“Dad, what the hell?” Lena finally demanded as Anders rummaged through the fireplace.

“My knives,” Anders snapped. “They were in the cupboard. Now they are not.”

“Maybe you moved them and forgot?” Rob offered weakly.

Anders turned to him with the intensity of a storm god. “I have never forgotten a knife in my life.”

That was the moment it hit them. Something was wrong.

Lena’s brows knit together. “Wait… you’re right. Everything is different.”

She looked around. So did Rob.

For the first time that night, they truly took in their surroundings.

Hold on. I thought one of you guys rearranged the house. So none of you did this?

Anders stopped moving. His face turned grim. “Someone was in this house.”

Oh no. We have been infiltrated by a mystical interior decorator!

Rob went pale. “And they didn’t steal anything… except for the knives?”

Silence.

They all turned, almost in sync, and rushed to check the safe. But it was completely untouched. Lena flung open the safe. Blorbo couldn’t see the actual content since the safe was in a different room, but he could hear Lena’s voice, “The jewelry, the coin purse, the pebbles. They’re still all here!”

Everything was exactly where it should be.

Except the knives. Or the fact that the entire house has been redecorated.

As all of them returned to the main room, Rob swallowed. “Uh. What exactly is going on here?”

Anders paced around and Lena hugged herself. Nobody answered.

Rob looked at the door. It was still locked from the inside.

Blorbo, now deeply uncomfortable, mentally screamed at the System.

WHERE IS MY QUEST FOR THIS?!

Because this was no longer a simple case of missing knives.

Somebody had been in their home. Somebody had touched everything.

And they had left without a trace.

“Wait. There’s a trace!” Lena called out and she crouched down and picked up a piece of paper atop the stack of neatly arranged books. “It’s like… a business card.”

“What does it say?” Rob asked. 

Then the old man snatched the business card from Lena and read out loud, “Master Shifu of Feng Shui Sect, Xianxialand.”

Xianxialand? What kind of utterly uncreative name is that? I didn’t even know there’s an ancient East Asian civilization in this world.

Another system quest popped up.

[SIDEQUEST: Do not ask questions (1)]

Objective: Do not ask questions

Reward: 1 EXP

1 CP

Blorbo proceeded to not ask questions.

[SIDEQUEST COMPLETED—Do not ask questions (1)]

Reward: 1 EXP

1 CP

“Have you heard of this ‘Master Shifu’ person, Anders?” Rob asked.

Anders exhaled sharply, his expression twisting into something between disgust and deep-seated disdain. He then flipped the card over in his fingers. “I have no knowledge of him. But Xianxialand, I am familiar with.” The way he said it dripped with contempt.

Lena and Rob exchanged a glance, but neither of them said anything.

“That kiwi nonsense,” Anders sneered. “What a flawed, primitive attempt at magic. A system built on nothing but blind faith and absurd superstition. They claim to cultivate their ‘internal energy,’ as if waving their hands around in slow motion will grant them untold power.” He scoffed. “Ridiculous.”

I’m pretty sure the foundational essence of xianxia cultivation is not pronounced ‘kiwi’...

Or maybe it does. Everything in this world is food-based.

Lena blinked. “Isn’t that just—”

“Do not compare it to actual magery,” Anders cut her off immediately. “The EMRCAR is a structured, precise science. Studied, developed, refined by scholars and grandmasters over centuries. We have exact formulae for how to conjure chickens. Not… whatever nonsense they practice in their mountain temples.”

But didn’t you just say only a handful are able to make chickens? How are they not able to make more en masses if they have the formula?

Lena frowned. “You’re saying their whole system is fake?”

“I would not go so far as to affirm such a thing.” Anders said, and then, with a malicious little smirk, added, “But hear this. Their ‘cultivation’—whatever they want to call it, works only because they likely stole what they know from EMRCAR scholars centuries ago and then bastardized it into their little mystical cult. You give them an incantation, they strip it of its runic components, chant it until their ancestors weep, and then claim they have ‘achieved enlightenment.’ Pathetic.” He threw the business card into the ground.

Rob tapped his chin. “And yet, some of those Xianxialand cultivators are really strong…”

Anders pinched the bridge of his nose as he snarled. “Yes, Robert. And so is a gorilla. But a gorilla is stupid.”

Yeah. I don’t know what this old man’s deal with Xianxialand is, but his quips sure are funny.

“This Master Shifu bastard!” Anders growled. “Where is he based? I must get my knives back.”

“I have never heard of him,” Lena mused, then stopped for a second. “But Master Bimbleton might… He’s a man of connections.”

“I’ll turn his pretty mansion upside down if he doesn’t give me an answer!” Anders stormed out.

“But it’s nearly night…” Lena trailed off. Rob had already put on his coat from the hanger as he walked out the door. 

“I’ll follow him,” he said.

“And I’ll follow you,” she said.

“I don’t want you anywhere near Bimbleton, Lena.” Rob sighed.

“Don’t worry.” She patted Blorbo. “As long as this enchanted table is with us, we’re sure to be fine.”

“Are you really planning on bringing the table along?”

“We can’t just leave him here.” Lena gestured at him. “He’s basically part of the family now. And I have a sneaky suspicion that he’ll only disclose certain information if we beat him in a table duel.”

That’s ridiculous even for me to hear! But one does not question Luna’s line of thinking, especially if it benefits me.

Rob gasped exasperatedly. He was probably lost for word.

Lena continued, “You don’t just challenge a man of commerce with words, Rob. You bring a negotiation table.”

Rob huffed once, closed his eyes, scrunched his nose, then said, “Fine. Let me go get the cart.”

[I am a Table] Chapter 22

The house had changed.

Blorbo was sure of it.

It wasn’t anything obvious. There was no walls knocked down, no new furniture, no decorations on the wall. But the subtle shift in the air was undeniable.

The old man had been redecorating.

The wooden shelves that once held Lena’s useless trinkets and random clutter had been neatly rearranged with military precision. The dusty, mostly-forgotten books on the shelves had been moved into strangely deliberate stacks. Even Tabby’s butthole looked like it’d slightly moved to the left.

He didn’t know how the old man was able to achieve it, but a miracle happened even outside the house. It was actually raining now.

But most importantly…

The knives were gone.

Blorbo knew exactly where they used to be—tucked neatly inside the cupboard, lined up like forgotten relics. Twelve knives. He had counted them many times, mostly out of boredom.

And now?

Not a single one in sight.

That couldn’t be good.

However, there were more pressing matters to attend to: Lena breaking the news to Rob. She’d been rehearsing her lines so many times that Blorbo had practically learned them by heart.

Now, she stood before Rob, hands clasped in front of her like she was about to deliver a verdict at a trial. “Robert, I—”

“It’s fine, sweetheart.” He gently grabbed her by her shoulders and met her with a warm smile. “Whatever your decision is, I stand by it.”

“But you don’t know what I’m about to say.”

“You only call me by my full first name when you want to announce something you’ve thought through a lot. You make sound decisions, Lena. I trust you.” 

“I want to become a banker.”

“Absolutely not.”

Lena sputtered. “You—you just said you’d support me no matter what!”

“I said I trust your judgment,” Rob clarified, his face twisted. “Not that I’d blindly accept your decision to commit financial treason against this household. Do you know how many years one need to study to become a banker?”

Lena groaned. “You’re being dramatic. People switch careers all the time. I’m great at learning and adapting.”

“You’re abandoning cabbage, Lena.”

“I’m not abandoning cabbage!”

“Oh, really?” Rob threw his hands in the air. “How are you going to juggle banking and cabbage?”

Lena rubbed her face. “Look, I just want to understand how magic works so I don’t end up accidentally summoning another piñata dragon. I need to learn how to control it, and for some reason, the only person willing to teach me is—” she gestured vaguely, “—that ridiculous man with too many gloves.”

“Ah. So you met him again. Have you learned that he’s trustworthy?” 

“He is! He read my palm lines and told me I’m destined for greatness! Then he placed a shiny pebble in my hand.”

Rob paced. “Lena. Sweetheart. You forget things all the time. Do you remember what happened the last time you tried something new?”

Lena frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“You lost a skillet, Lena.”

“It’s just a one time thing…”

“You know it’s not. You are chronically messy. You might lose a mortgage contract under a head of cabbage!”

Lena gasped. “I would never lose something as important as a cabbage!”

Now that she mentioned cabbage…

Cabbage Points can easily be gained by just consuming cabbages, correct? Then why is kale the superior vegetable when cabbage is just so much more valuable?

This must mean that the people in this world do not know how valuable cabbage it. They have no concept of a Cabbage Point.

Then I’m likely the only one with a system.

Wait! I need to focus. Can’t lose track of the conversation like last time.

As he refocused, the conversation had moved on. 

Lena and Rob shared a mutual hug, and Rob whispered to her. “I fully support your decision to become an arcane banker.”

Great. It happened again.

How did they even resolve the problem that quickly? I drifted away for like five seconds!

The door opened. The moment the old man entered the room, Lena and Rob snapped their mouths shut as if a guillotine had dropped on the conversation.

Look how stiff and suspiciously synchronized they look! These two are SO done for.

Anders narrowed his eyes at them. “What were you talking about?”

Lena and Rob spoke at the exact same time.

“Cabbages.”

“The discovery of the continent of Majapahit.”

Then they looked at each other in disbelief.

No…

Anders blinked. “Come again?”

Lena cleared her throat. “Yes. Cabbages. And… Majapahit.”

Rob nodded firmly. “The lost cabbage continent of Majapahit.”

No, idiots! Don’t double down on the story! He didn’t hear you the first time!

Lena clapped her hands together. “It was a major discovery. Truly groundbreaking.”

Rob nodded aggressively. “Earth-shattering.”

Lena pivoted instantly. “Which is why it’s so controversial.”

“Right,” Rob jumped in. “The scholars won’t even write about it! You can try to dig for answers in the Capitol Library! Not one will come up.”

Anders rubbed his temples. “Alright. If this lost continent of Majapahit is so important, where is it?”

Rob answered immediately. “Underwater.”

Lena spoke at the same time. “In the sky.”

They froze as Anders stared at them.

Lena coughed. “It was… in the sky.”

Rob swallowed. “Then it fell into the ocean.”

Lena snapped her fingers. “Yes! That’s why it’s lost. Then cabbages floated all over the oceans. That’s how we found it again.”

Anders took one step closer, and both of them took one step back. The old man grunted, “Okay. What were you two actually talking about?”

Yeah… They’re doomed.

C’mon, system. Let me jump in and save them. Give me a quest. I don’t want to do it for free.

A quest popped up.

[NEW QUEST: The Art of Misdirection (1)]

Objective: Distract Anders from interrogating Lena and Rob.
Reward: +7 EXP, +2 PER, +5 CP, and a Beginner-level Deception Skill.

Prerequisite: 10 AGI, 10 PER (You can accept this quest)
Failure: Lena and Rob are forced to explain. (Badly.)

Accept: Yes/No

A Deception skill now? The System has been much too kind lately… Something’s up.

[I am a Table] Chapter 21

The morning sun spilled lazily across the market square. It didn’t seem to ever rain in the Township of Iakesi, almost as if the town was set in a book and the author of said book just recycled scenery descriptions because he was too lazy to invent weather fluctuations.

“I heard Marza sold that Elviswood table for a fortune,” the woman in front of her said as her hand shuffled through the pile of cabbage, lowering her voice to a whisper full of intrigue.

“What? That table wasn’t even hers,” Lena mouthed. “Also that one is a good-tasting one. That one you’re holding.”

“If a table drops from the sky, destroys your stall, and no-one claims it, safe to say it’s yours,” the customer replied.

I’m more surprised by the fact that Master Bimbleton didn’t try to retrieve that table right away, Blorbo thought. Or maybe he was the buyer.

“Huh? And who paid a fortune for an angry table?” Lena asked.

“Oh, some eccentric noble in the capital,” the woman said, waving her hand dramatically. “But that’s not the interesting part.”

The woman leaned in, her excitement barely contained. “With all that gold, Marza went out and bought herself a carriage full of curly kale.”

Lena paused mid-hand gesture, and her eyes were filled with a fire of hatred. “Curly kale?!”

“A whole carriage.”

Lena blinked. “And then what?”

“She’s now the posh curly kale seller at the town bazaar.”

A moment of silence.

Lena finally exhaled through her nose, gritted her teeth, and shook her head. “You know, it’s ridiculous how kale is considered a luxury for the nobles, while cabbage is not.”

You grit your teeth at that, woman? You didn’t once grit your teeth throughout your entire argument with the old man last night!

Another round of useless kale-related chatter ensued, and the woman walked away. It was now the afternoon, and Blorbo had been waiting for that exciting encounter with the hooded mage with the funny accent that never came. He didn’t even set up shop today.

It had been a busy day. Customers had come and gone, the cabbage pile dwindled, and the market had buzzed with pointless kale-related discourse, but Blorbo remained deeply, deeply disappointed.

Lena never once pulled out the wand. Not once.

What was she so scared of? What was the worst that could happen?

At worst, she’d decorate the entire marketplace with piñatas and confetti explosions—and if anything, that would probably increase sales.

Instead, she’d spent the entire day selling cabbage like a responsible adult.

Boring.

By the time the market was quiet, with only a few stragglers wandering past, Lena finally reached into her pocket and pulled out the ridiculously tiny wand.

She held it in her palm, staring at it for the longest time as her thumb traced its absurdly small form.

Yes. Do it. Do something. Wreak havoc upon the world.

Then, a hand appeared on the table, atop the cabbages. A gloved hand—no, a double-gloved hand—no, wait…

He had four gloves on one hand again.

Lena looked up at him and blinked once.

“Ah-ha!” The four-gloved mage spread his arms wide. “You hold it at last!”

Blorbo’s wooden nerves bristled. Finally. Something interesting.

His silver-threaded eyes shone beneath the hood like lanterns. “Zere are many who would seek such a thing, cabbage mongress.” He tapped a finger to his temple, then pointed dramatically at her. “And you? You sit upon it like a dragon upon a hoard!”

Lena blinked. “I literally just took it out. What are you—”

“Silence!” He raised a single gloved hand. Then, for absolutely no reason at all, he removed that glove to reveal another glove.

Ah. Here we go again.

Lena rubbed her temples, already exhausted. "Okay, no. No. You keep showing up, talking in riddles, and layering yourself like an onion. Why do you care so much?"

The four-gloved mage gasped, clutching his own chest as though she had mortally wounded him. “Why do I—? Pourquoi?!” His voice wavered with theatrical devastation. “You wound me again, mongress! I am but a humble servant of fate! A mere conduit of destiny!”

Lena stared at him. The mage stared back.

She sighed. “Alright, then. Who are you really?”

Oooh! Who is he? Is he an archmage? I bet he’s an archmage.

The mage grinned, and his silver-threaded eyes glinted as if light travelled across his eyes. “Ah. You ask ze right question at last.” Then, in a tone heavy with the strain of immense and dreadful responsibilities, he declared, “I am a banker.”

Blorbo had never been more disappointed in his life.

“... I can’t deal with this two days in a roll.” Lena ran a hand down her face.

A quest popped up on the mage’s head with the same comical timing as it’d always had. Blorbo checked the details.

[NEW QUEST: An Act of Petty Rebellion]

Objective: Steal a glove from the hands of the Keeper of Arcane Liquidity.
Reward: +2 AGI, +1 CP, and a Beginner-level Glove.
Prerequisite: None.

Failure: None.

Accept: Yes/No

Damn. This quest sucks!

Suddenly, something showed up.

[Would you like a reroll? Normally, this function costs 5 CP. But the first one is on the house.]

A reroll? The system gives second chances now? Also a reroll costs 5 times more CP than the potential reward. So much for risk-reward balances.

If he had been a more careful, strategic, forward-thinking table, he might have considered saving this free reroll for a more useful moment.

Hell yeah, I’m rerolling.

He willed Yes without hesitation.

The quest blinked out of existence, only to be immediately replaced by another.

[NEW QUEST: The Grand Glove Gambit]

Objective: Steal ALL of the Keeper of Arcane Liquidity’s gloves.
Reward: +3 AGI, +2 CP, and a Beginner-level Glove
Prerequisite: None.
Failure: He puts on more gloves.

Accept: Yes/No

Blorbo internally screamed. WHY DID I THINK THIS WOULD BE ANY BETTER?

He chose No. Only then did his perception kicked in, and he refocused just in time to catch the end of the conversation.

“I will train in the ways of Arcane Liquidity,” Lena said with a steely resolve.

Wait. What? What did I miss?

“Ah! Exzellent!” The four-gloved mage clapped his hands together, and the fabric made a soft, muffled fwump. “You are making ze right choice, mongress! We start tomorrow at dawn!”

“… Tomorrow?” Lena frowned. “I never said—”

But the mage had glided away again.

Lena slapped her forehead. “How am I going to explain to Rob that I don’t need a cart of cabbage tomorrow?”

Don’t explain to him. Explain to me. Explain to me! What the hell did you do, Lena? WHAT DID YOU DO!

How did you go from cabbage seller to banker of the magical realm?

[I am a Table] Chapter 20

Lena’s mouth hung open even wider. “A-archmage? That’s like mage, but arch right?”

This woman has absolutely NO knowledge about magery, and wants to become a mage?

“Archmage is a mage of the highest order, Lena,” Rob said, deadpan.

“Wow!”

Anders’ brows furrowed. “Why are you looking at me like it’s an impossibility? It’s not like I’m a moving table.”

Hey!

Rob also couldn’t contain the shock in his voice. “Like the Grandmaster Archmage of Americana?”

“Bah!” Anders waved his hand. “Do not compare me to that pompous, insufferable codger! I should’ve been in his place.”

“Then why are you here?” Rob asked.

“Why do you think?”

He’s committed a crime.

“You’ve committed a crime.” Lena said.

Jinx!

Anders nodded. “Crime has a price, even if it’s justified or not. And that price follows me… and my bloodline.”

That sounds so sad. Anyway, when are you gonna teach us some spells?

Anders’ expression immediately hardened like chiseled stone. “As long as I’m here, I would like to see no magic in this house. Ever.”

Oh c’mon! An archmage banning magic is like a swordsman cutting off his own arm!

“But—”

“There will be no negotiation. It is for your own safety.”

Lena’s mouth opened and closed, searching for words. “You’re literally an archmage. And you want me to just—what? Pretend magic doesn’t exist?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No!”

Anders slammed on the table. “If you want to learn magic so much, don’t let me caught you doing it! See how good you are at hiding!”

[-5 HP]

Ouch! Why is this household so violent? 

Blorbo’s entire frame trembled as his HP dropped dangerously low.

[HP: 2/15]

Hell no, I am actually going to die during a family dispute.

All it would take was one more slap, or one more kick, or Lena aggressively setting down a mug too hard, and he’d be reduced to firewood.

The reality of his fragile existence sank in like a plate dropped into a kitchen sink. It wasn’t just annoying. It was a predicament.

How many times had he held back because of his terrible HP cap?

How often had he avoided risk because one strong gust of wind might send him into the afterlife?

And worst of all? He could die at any moment just from normal household activities.

How am I going to fix this? Barely any quest gives HP, and levelling up is tedious for minimal HP gain.

A quest suddenly showed up above Rob’s head. He clicked on it.

[NEW QUEST: The Art of Deflection]

Objective: Avoid damage perfectly by leaning or shaking at the exact moment an impact is about to land.
Reward:

• + 3 EXP

• +5 HP (Permanent!)

• +3 STR

• NEW RARE PASSIVE SKILL: Retribution Counter (Level I)

  • The bane of table offensive. Whenever you take physical damage, your table legs automatically use STR to push back against the source of impact, forcing the attacker to FEEL THE PAIN while protecting your HP.

Prerequisite: Current HP to be 3 or lower.

Failure: You get hit. And probably die.

Accept: Yes/No

Blorbo gawked at the quest details.

A rare passive skill?! His first rare skill ever!

And it was exactly what he needed! No longer would he be a helpless victim of everyday domestic VIOLENCE. And the skill was actually OP. If Retribution Counter worked the way he thought it would work, his current 6 STR could’ve blocked the entire 5 damage of the attack earlier while handling a sweet sweet justice of the remaining 1 damage to his attacker.

If only he wasn’t going to die as soon as he fail to complete the mission…

But such was a day in the life of Blorbo. He was probably going to die sooner or later if the quest hadn’t shown up, so might as well attempt to die now than later.

Blorbo slammed Accept faster than Lena could say "But—"

[QUEST ACCEPTED: The Art of Deflection]

He had a mission now: Dodge. Avoid. Deflect. Counter.

He watched Anders carefully, waiting for the next attack. If that old man so much as raised his scrawny hands again, Blorbo was going to time this perfectly.

“You want me to believe,” Lena fumed, “that a Mage Order or whatever it’s called, full of spellcasters, researchers, and magical scholars would actually be scared of one girl with a stupidly small wand?”

“It is not called the Mage Order.  Anders growled. “It is called the EMRCAR!”

“The what?” Lena blinked.

“Esteemed and Most Righteous Congregation of Arcane Regulators, Keepers of the Grand Mystical Balance, and Sole Proprietors of Legally Sanctioned Wizardry.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Do not call it ridiculous. I helped named the Sole Proprietors part!” Anders stood and raised his hand.

Oh! He’s about to strike!

Blorbo activated Adjustable Angle, trying to lean at just the right angle to deflect the strike. But it was too difficult! His hands slapping down was too quick, and the surface area was too wide to cover!

But I have to lean, or I’ll die! Arrrrrggghhhhh!

“Then—” Lena stood too. But in the process, accidentally kicked the table in frustration.

And by sheer luck, Blorbo leaned at the exact moment of impact.

[SYSTEM CHECK: Deflection Timing… SUCCESS!]

[Retribution Counter Activated!]

Lena’s foot collided with his leg, but at precisely the same moment, Blorbo moved just slightly, enough to completely redirect the force.

Lena’s own force bounced back at her.

“GAH!” She yanked her foot back, clutching her ankle. “What the hell?!”

Wait. Did I just counter Lena? How did I even time that?

[QUEST PROGRESS: The Art of Deflection — 1/1 Successful Deflections]
[QUEST COMPLETE!]

[REWARD GRANTED: +3 EXP, +5 HP (New Max: 20 HP), +3 STR]
[RARE PASSIVE SKILL UNLOCKED: RETRIBUTION COUNTER (Level I)]

Anders’ hand stopped mid-air. “See? You’re already hurting yourself with magic you don’t understand. If you’re this jumpy, you can’t become a Stealth Mage ever. Forget about it.”

Nobody has said anything about Stealth Mage? Hello?

“That wasn’t magic! That was—” Lena scowled. “You know what? Forget it. I’ll not practice magery.” She clenched her fists under the table. “I’ll return the wand tomorrow. Does that make you happy, Dad?”

“That will suffice,” Anders replied.

Nobody said another word as the night ended unceremoniously.

[I am a Table] Chapter 19

Lena alternated between sniffing and outright bawling for the next minutes, even after Rob had helped her sit on the chair, pulled the table close and placed the wonderfully-smelling chicken soup in front of her. Blorbo couldn’t quite shake the discomfort that had been gnawing at him since the emotional scene between Lena and Anders. But he was Blorbo, after all—the table of legend. It wasn’t his place to dwell on emotions.

I mean… what’s done is done. We can concentrate on getting that mage power amped up, yeah yeah? You and me, Lena. You can become the strongest mage in all the lands, and I can gain some stats.

Suddenly…

TWO new quests appeared before him.

[NEW QUEST: Amend the Wrongs]

Objective: Help mend the rift in the family by reconciling Lena and Anders. Automatically fails upon the acceptance of [The Adventure of the Lonely Mage]

Reward: 10 CP

Failure: The family fractures completely

Accept: Yes/No

[NEW QUEST: The Adventure of the Lonely Mage]
Objective: Ditch the farmer life. Burn your bridges, abandon your family, and become the strongest mage adventurer in the land. Automatically fails upon the acceptance of [The Adventure of the Lonely Mage]
Reward: +10 STR, +10 MP, +5 CP, the Epic Staff of the Broken Shell
Failure: An adventurer doesn’t fail. Are you scared or something?
Accept: Yes/No

Ah, yes. The classic choice. The morally sound path that pays absolutely garbage, or the path of power, self-determination, and an Epic staff. I can finally leave the world of vegetables and become someone worthy of greatness!

Or maybe I can just not accept either of the quests and let destiny takes the wheel.

Wait. Destiny is the System. Nah, maybe not.

Blorbo was about to pick the second quest. But just as he was about to accept the quest, something stopped him.

“It’s going to be fine, dear,” Rob’s soothing, cooing voice rang out behind him. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

He saw Rob, his hands on Lena’s shoulders, trying to console her. Her face was scrunched in quiet tears, but Rob kept patting on her back nonetheless.

Are you for real, Blorbo? What are you doing?

He had watched the family for weeks now, observed how they cared for each other. Sure, maybe his decisions wouldn’t matter in the grand schemes of things, but…

I sure as heck couldn’t have done much to help them, but... I can’t be so heartless to add insult to injury. Not after everything.

He quietly willed himself to click on the first option.

[QUEST ACCEPTED: Amend the Wrongs]

Now he’d gone and done it. Accepted the quest. But what the hell was he supposed to do now? He wasn’t exactly a relationship expert. He barely knew what a hug was, let alone how to fix a father-daughter dispute.

But he couldn’t just sit here, could he? No, action was needed.

Think, Blorbo, think…

As he was thinking, he accidentally leaned too hard to the side. The cat was walking past at the exact moment, and it jumped at the sudden movement. Its jump created ripples the air that pushed the piñata around. As the piñata swung, it ripped the ribbons off the rope, and the ribbons started flapping again.

Lena, still sniffling, looked up at the ribbon with a confused expression. Her lips quivering slightly. She sniffed, and then chuckled quietly. “Look what I’ve gone and done,” she said. “That piñata looks horrific. I’ll be a terrible mage.”

Rob didn’t reply.

Lena sighed. “What does it matter if I can cast spells? I’m perfectly happy with this life, with my own little farm, my own little cat…” She ran a hand up Rob’s messy, slightly greasy hair. “And my perfect man. Maybe dad knows what’s good for me after all.”

“He shouldn’t have said that to you, nonetheless,” Rob replied with a calm smile.

“He’s not known for his good-temper, Robert. But he’s not a bad man.”

“Well then now he’s gotten time to calm down, he should be able to hold a conversation like a mature adult.” Rob’s smile faded as he wiped the last tear from Lena’s cheek. “I’m not going to let this sit,” he muttered under his breath, his eyes sharpening with resolve.

Lena, now breathing more evenly, looked up at him. “Rob, don’t go after him.”

But Rob simply stood up, eyes locked on the door. His voice burned with fury. “I’m going after him.” Rob strode toward the door. “Lena... stay here. I’ll be back.”

Lena opened her mouth to protest, but Rob was already gone. 

Wait. What just happened? Did I do anything?

Oh yeah. I haven’t chosen my pair of socks.

Blorbo’s mind flicked back to the notification about his reward for completing the quest.

[Congratulations! Please pick your favorite pair of socks.]

The options were the darker-colored ones, the wooden-colored ones, and the brightly-colored ones. None of them gave any extra stats of boon.

Fine. I’ll pick the wooden-colored socks. They would blend in better.

The socks materialized—human-sized, completely out of thin air, landing perfectly onto his wooden surface. They were just the right size... for a human, not a table.

I have four legs. FOUR! Why did you only give me two?

Heavy footsteps echoed through the door, but only one pair of foot. So Rob’s returned. Empty-handed.

But nope. The door opened, and it was Rob AND Anders. The old man’s expression was still tight with frustration, but there was a calmer air about him. Both his shoulders and his ever-present frown were less rigid.

[Detection Failed. PER too low to detect footsteps.]

He pointed at the table, his tone as firm as ever. “Everyone, sit. I’m going to tell you what you need to know.”

Lena looked at Rob, a wary glint in her eyes, but she nodded and slowly made her way to the table. Rob stood by her side, hugging the sides of her shoulders.

Once everyone was seated, Anders took a slow breath as he narrowed his eyes. He raised his hand and began to chant. “Tsi-i-ho-ya-te, nva-hi-wi-lo, ta-li-na-u-do…” the chant echoed through the room again and again even though the actual volume of the sound was really small. The words rolled out in a language that felt earthy, if there was any word that could describe it. 

As Anders’ chant reached its final syllable, he extended his hand toward a… staff that appeared out of thin air. Rob and Lena gasped.

Damn! Why wasn’t I reincarnated as a mage?! Come on. That was cool as heck!

The staff itself was long and twisted, carved from some wood that was even darker than Elviswood. At its tip, there was a comically gigantic crystal that looked like it had been weathered by time, though it was clearly powerful. None of them seemed particularly flashy, but they surely didn’t look ordinary.

Anders pointed the staff toward the piñata, which had been swinging slightly with the echoes of their conversation. The ribbons, still floating in mid-air, the glitter still suspended from the burst of magic earlier, all frozen in time.

The air held its breath for a moment. Then, in an instant—nothing happened.

No explosion of light, no dramatic flare of crazy magic. Just silence.

The piñata, the ribbons, the glitter, and even the sound of the flapping ribbons had disappeared.

Anders lowered his staff, his voice cold and calm. “That was a reversal spell. Nothing more.”

Lena stuttered, her mouth was still half open. “A-are you a mage?”

Anders gave a short, bitter laugh. “I was an archmage.”

[I am a Table] Chapter 18

Glitter glided around in the air like some kind of twisted confetti storm.

“A Piñata Mage is no laughing matter.” Anders’ voice was grave as he spat out an orange particle of glitter. “The magic behind such power is volatile. You think it’s just a little party favor, don’t you? Party Mages are the worst, and Piñata Party Mages are the worst of the worst.”

He then swung around and punched the piñata with his bare fist. Upon impact, the piñata shook and leaked in multiple places. Glitter shot out like firework, and suddenly, a cloud of candies rained down from its opening mouth. The sweet smell of sugar assaulted the air as lollipops and caramel chews poured out non-stop.

A luminous question mark appeared above Rob's head, accompanied by the all-too-familiar sound of the System chime.

[NEW QUEST: Make Chicken Soup for the Sick]

Objective: Make a warm bowl of chicken soup for the sick in your household within the next two hours.

Reward: 1 EXP, 5 CP, and a spoon of the finest quality.

Prerequisite: None

Failure: Bad things happen.

Accept: Yes/No

What? What does this have to do with anything? How do I make chicken soup without hands?

Blorbo couldn’t do it. Only Rob could. And he was sure that other than himself, nobody else was aware of the existence of the quests, or of stats and skills altogether.

I think these are designed to be generic quests, not specific to furniture. I can just find quests I can do.

And that failure consequence? He wouldn’t risk finding out.

He clicked No.

As he did, another golden question mark flickered into existence—this time, above Anders’ head.

[NEW QUEST: Stop the Rainbow Ribbons from Flapping Too Loudly]

Objective: Quietly stop the rainbow ribbons from flapping loudly within the next ten minutes.

Reward: 1 EXP, +2 STR, and a brand new pair of socks

Temporary Aura: Adjustable Angle (Level 2) (7 degree)—Duration: 10 minutes

Prerequisite: None

Failure: The ribbons double their noise and attract unwanted attention.

Accept: Yes/No

Only when he saw the quest did he realize the ribbons were making sounds. The noise it made wasn’t nearly as bad as the shouting contest happening in the house right now. Hardly loudly.

What? Why? Do the ribbons hold ANY significance at all? Why are these main quests and not sidequests?

Nonetheless, this was a quest he could actually do. So he clicked Accept.

Rob grunted as he spoke to Anders, “We don’t want trouble in this house, Mr. Woodywise. If there might be potential trouble we don’t know about, you should speak to us forthrightly so we can reach a solution.”

Blorbo calculated the precise distance between himself and the rope that held the piñata. I’m blessed with advanced leaning capabilities! I have to make use of this!

He flapped to one side, then to another side. Because he had to flap slowly to not draw attention, the step he took was dissapointingly small. No one saw it yet.

He took another step. Then the third. The distance he’d cover was so minuscule nobody even noticed.

I’m too far away. Then he spotted Tabby sitting near the rope, licking its paw.

I can reach the cat! I just need to move a little.

The old man poked at Rob’s chest. “If you didn’t want trouble, you should’ve listened to your folks when they told you to not marry an immigrant.”

Blorbo leaned back and forth, closing the distance between him and that cat by half an inch. I’m still too far, and I can’t lean faster without being detected!

Rob kicked the side of the table as he said, “You can disrespect me all you want, but don’t say that about your own daughter.”

Blorbo immediately took advantage of the kick to theatrically flapped sideway like a walking duck.

[-1 HP]

Oh yeah! Keep arguing! Keep yelling at me and kick me in the butt!

Lena crossed her arm, slapped the table, and stared straight into Anders’ eyes. “Dad. We’ve been fine until now. What’s wrong? What are we?”

[-8 HP]

Minus 8?! No way that slap was that strong. I barely felt it. He thought as he catapulted towards the cat like a fireball.

“Don’t talk to me like that!” Anders growled when Blorbo touched the cat.

Tabby jumped up in shock. The cat’s claws dug into the rope, and it clutched onto it like a lifeline.

“Are we mages, dad? Are we mages?” Lena raised her voice.

“You are a commoner and always will be!” Anders countered.

“Then what was that earlier? I demand to know what secret you’ve hid from me!”

“Know your place! I will tell you nothing.”

The rope vibrated violently, and as it did, it sent a jolt through the piñata. The flapping rainbow ribbon that had been causing so much noise was now caught—barely—by the cat's sudden movement. It flitted and made even louder whirring sounds for a second. 

No!

Then, the rope acted as a counterbalance, finally stabilizing the out-of-control ribbons.

Yes!

Congratulations! [QUEST COMPLETED—Stop the Rainbow Ribbons from Flapping Too Loudly]

Reward: 1 EXP, +2 STR, and a brand new pair of socks

“If you insist, Dad,” Lena’s voice was borderline choking. “I guess we are no longer family.”

Yes! Yes yes yes! I’ve completed the quest! I’ve achieved the unachiveable!

“Do as you wish.” The sound of footsteps resounded as Anders walked away, and Lena’s stifled sobs.

“Mr. Woodywise. We can talk—” Rob spoke, but Anders had already slammed the door on his way out.

Hooray! This is the best day of my life!

Then Lena collapse onto the floor, bawling.

Oh, right. I forgot. How’s the argument going again?

Rob’s voice rang out. “You look a bit sick. I’ll make you chicken soup.”

With that, Rob left the room. Only then did Blorbo’s attention turned to Lena’s crying form. She was hugging her entire face in her arm, hiccuping as she cried.

What the hell happened? Why is she in this state?

Wait. Lena also had a question mark on her head. It didn’t glow golden. It was a dull grey.

He clicked on the quest.

[QUEST: Keep the Family Intact—Expired]

Objective: Prevent the Imminent Breakdown of the Oakward family

Reward: +100 EXP, +10 HP, +10 MP, +10 STR, +10 END, +10 PER, +10 AGI, +10 CP

Prerequisite: None

Failure: Anders leaves. Lena’s morale -100.

Oh. I didn’t notice this quest existed.

Then the system overrode that screen with a notification.

Congratulations! Please pick your favorite pair of socks.

[I am a Table] Chapter 17

Lena was setting the table for dinner, humming the same silly tune to herself as she placed down bowls and plates. At last, she noticed the wand.

“What’s this?” She picked up the tiny, absurdly small magic stick and twirled it between her fingers. “Oh, right. Almost lost you again.”

ALMOST?! Blorbo internally shrieked.

Lena shrugged and, without a second thought, slipped the wand into her pocket. It was safe, for now.

For the first time since the Wand Incident, Blorbo allowed himself to breathe.

He was too emotionally exhausted to process anything else. Between the cat, the potatoes, and his new, completely useless skill, he needed a break.

“Not looking too bad, Lena.” Somebody spoke, and Blorbo almost shook in startle because of the spook. “The potatoes didn’t turn into mush today.”

The old man appeared in the kitchen, settling into his chair like he had been there the whole time.

HOW?

His Perception had gone up. He was a new table now.

Yet, he still couldn’t detect when the old man entered the house. No footsteps. No creaking floorboards. No shouting of random made-up words.

The man had just… appeared.

What the hell does this man DO all day?

The old man would leave in the morning without a word and come back at night, silent as a ghost. Nobody in this house ever talked about it. He doubt Rob and Lena even knew what he was doing for a living. And the man had a weirdly specific set of exactly twelve knives kept inside a cupboard counter.

He is obviously a retired legendary assassin. Maybe the head of a secret guild. Maybe he once slaughtered an entire castle's worth of nobles with just a butter knife.

Or he is an archmage himself! That would explain why Lena is a mage—maybe being a mage is a hereditary thing. Maybe he held forbidden knowledge. Maybe he once accidentally created the first sentient chair.

Rob and Lena sat down at the kitchen table, the chairs creaking under their weight as they settled in for dinner.

And then, at the exact same moment, they both made a sound. Simultaneously, they looked at each other, eyes wide with surprise.

“Did we just sit down at the exact same time?” Rob asked, eyebrows raised.

Lena blinked. “How unlikely is that?” She grinned. “We’re like… synchronized.”

“We just know each other too well.” Rob clapped once.

They both chuckled, before their chuckles were cut short by the old man’s rumble, “Don’t talk at the dining table! Have some manners, you two.”

Blorbo, however, had never been more aware of anything in his life. He watched the whole thing unfold, a small twinge of rage bubbling up.

The passive skill Synchronized Sitting had activated on its own. He tried to find a way to deactivate it. There wasn’t any.

You’re going to feel this way every night from now on, he was annoyed. People would be sitting down in sync until eternity. What if he wanted them to sit down at different times? What then, huh? Ever thought about that?

He saved magic. And this was the reward he got?

The thought about the useless skill and the old man kept him occupied until everyone in the household had finished their dinners.

“I love cabbage,” Lena sat back in her chair, patting her full stomach as she finished her dinner. The conversation had drifted, and Rob had already started talking about some absurd theory he had about the weather.

Lena looked like she was agitated and wanted to stood, but since she still had to stay and listen to weather conspiracy theories, she reached out to her pocket and pulled out the wand, fiddling with it as though it was just another toy, a shiny pebble.

The old man’s eyes narrowed, and in a flash of movement faster than Blorbo had ever seen, he was on his feet, seizing Lena’s wrist with surprising force.

“What is that?” he demanded with a low, controlled growl.

Lena blinked in shock. “What—what’s wrong?”

The old man’s grip tightened, and his gaze hardened as he stared at the tiny wand in her hand. His eyes were filled with an emotion Blorbo couldn’t place, but it sure as heck wasn’t a good emotion. “Get rid of that this instant.”

Lena’s voice faltered. “I… It’s just a… just a thing from the market.”

“Anders, stop. You always do this.” Rob stood, pushing his chair back with a loud scrape. His usual easygoing demeanor was completely replaced with a rare intensity that Blorbo had never seen before. “You don’t get to talk to her like that.”

“I talk to my daughter however the damn I want!” Anders turned to him.

“She’s not a little girl anymore, and you’re not going to scare her just because you don’t like something.”

“What do you know?” the old man spat. “You’re a farmer, boy. I only tolerate you.”

Rob’s jaw tightened and his hands curled into fists. He took a step forward. “I know enough to know that she’s my wife. And you don’t get to treat her like she’s a doll.”

A moment of silence. Blorbo held his breath, waiting for the old man to explode again. 

But instead, Anders suddenly relaxed.

He let out a deep sigh, looking at Rob, then at Lena, who was now silently shaking, then back to Rob.

His stiff posture softened. He then nodded slowly and spoke in a calmer voice, “I’ll give you that. You’ve got guts. One of the few things I like about you.”

Rob didn’t back down.

Anders turned back toward Lena and his expression hardened again. “I took you here for you to stay away from that life. Not to dive into it.”

Lena blinked, her hand instinctively reaching for the wand in her pocket.

Yo, what life? Can someone fill me in? Hello? You know there’s a fourth entity in this household, right?

“What life, dad?” she asked.

“Just give me the wand.” He spread his hand.

Lena held the wand firmly in her grasp. “What life? This is the only life I’ve ever known. Tell me what you mean.”

The grip on the wand tightened as she glared at Anders, refusing to back down. 

“Lena,” Anders’ voice was even lower now. “Don’t squeeze it like that.” His voice was sharp like a dagger.

Her fingers instinctively tightened further, and her fingers trembled lightly.

Easy, Lena. You might break it!

“What life!” Lena screamed, throwing her hands into the air.

BOOM!

There was a flash of light.

Then came a spectacular explosion of smoke that filled the room with blue, green, and purple wisps swirling around in the air. 

Blorbo recoiled. He’d even physically shaken, praying people would just think Lena shook him as a byproduct of whatever had happened.

The shadows of something imprinted itself behind the smoke. Dark, dangerous, dragon-shaped.

“Careful!” Rob jumped in front of Lena with his fists raise. Then the old man jumped in front of both of them, finger pointing at the shadow like a fingergun.

Then the crazy dangerous shadow revealed itself. It was a dragon-shaped piñata. It swung gently as the rainbow-colored ribbons hanging from its horns flapped. The room now smelled like glitters.

A piñata?! Lena is a garbage mage!

Lena stared at it, wide-eyed. "What... what the heck is this?" she asked, her voice a mixture of shock and pure confusion.

“A piñata,” Anders grunted, his voice somehow even lower. “I should’ve known.”