Hacking the Game Didn't Go as Intended

CHAPTER 9: Survival Tactics

The world began to transform as Daisuke ventured further—the crude dwellings became less prevalent, and more structured houses towered in their place.

Dirt roads gave way to cobblestones, and the bustling streets teemed with more well-dressed and coordinated individuals moving purposefully.

"Hey Mister," Daisuke called out to one of the busy-bodied pedestrians with as much courtesy as he could muster. The man was clad in a mishmash of cheap leather and a few pieces of armor plating.

It's either this is really inside the game, or a bunch of weirdos decided to host a convention right next to the slums, he mused to himself.

"Could you point me in the direction of the Hunters' Association?" he asked the man who looked him over assessingly, and Daisuke swallowed pass the hot lump in his throat.

Showering was a rare privilege in the slums, but he had wrapped himself in a trimmed version of the hooded robe that the noble had left behind. This concealed the poor-as-hell rags he wore on his body, and the remnants of cologne on the robe should have masked his stench.

Unconsciously, he combed his fingers through his hair, hoping he had properly driven away all the fleas that had taken up residence there.

"I'm sorry," the man replied kindly. "I'm not quite sure where you're referring to. Try asking someone else."

Is this really a convention, then? Daisuke wondered, finding the deduction nonsensical. He approached another man decked out in far more impressive gear and posed the same question.

"Tha' hell you want?" this person's temperament was on the other side of the spectrum. "Huh? The Hunters' Association? Is that even a thing? I think you mean the Adventurers' Guild."

Daisuke stood dumbfounded, his mouth agape. He spent seven years of his life pondering where he was, and it only took a few minutes outside his house to find the answer he so desperately sought. Words couldn't quite capture the misery he felt.

"Man, even NPCs know that. You must be a damn noob!" the man scoffed arrogantly.

This arrogance and intimidation, the indiscriminate verbal abuse right off the bat. This guy's definitely a player—no doubt about it.

"Dusthaven."

Dusthaven? Daisuke frowned questioningly. Is that the name of this place?

"This sorry excuse for a starter village doesn't have a guild," the man sneered, his gaze piercing through Daisuke's youthful visage hidden under the hood. "You'll have better luck in the next village. But let's face it, kid... I don't know if you're a player or NPC, and I really don't care. Either way, you look way too green to be guild material."

With a dismissive grunt, the man turned and sauntered off, leaving Daisuke to wrestle with the torrent of thoughts flooding his mind.

I'm certain now, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this is all inside the game. But that realization only raises more questions. "Argh!" Daisuke ruffled his hair in frustration before taking a deep breath to collect himself and refocus on his priorities.

Given his circumstances, he knew finding work or leading the life of a player wouldn't be possible. So, he resorted to what bottom feeders did best: swallowing his pride and rummaging around market stalls and garbage disposals after hours to find scraps.

However, his situation wasn't unique. People, especially children from both human and Beastkin races, along with feral dogs and cats, were engaged in the same desperate pursuit, and the competition was fierce.