The God-Tier Commoner

All Show, No Go

After strolling through Garvin’s racks of basic leather vests and simple iron daggers, Lex’s eyes landed on something spectacular. At the back of the shop, on a wooden stand, was a full suit of plate armor. It shone with a polished silver finish. Beside it, on a rack, was a longsword with a gleaming blade and a leather-wrapped hilt. It looked like something a king’s knight would wear.

Lex’s inner gamer lit up. That was the gear. The top-tier loot you saved up for. The shiny stuff that screamed ‘main character.’

He pointed, his voice filled with certainty. “Those. I want those.”

Garvin the pawnbroker followed his gaze. A slow, delighted smile spread across his face. “Ah, the ‘Knight’s Resolve’ set! A fine choice, sir! Excellent craftsmanship. Offers full-body protection. And the sword, ‘Honor’s Edge,’ is perfectly balanced.” He paused for effect. “The set is valued at two Gold Crowns.”

Lex didn’t even haggle. He was used to paying premium prices for the best. He tossed two of his heavy gold coins onto the counter. “Done. And throw in a plain shirt. You know, as a freebie.”

Garvin caught the coins, his smile widening. “Of course, sir! A pleasure doing business.” He fetched a simple grey tunic from a pile and helped Lex gather the armor, piece by heavy piece.

In a corner of the shop, Lex started putting it on. The confidence of a rich buyer was strong. He strapped on the greaves (leg armor), then the cuisses (thigh guards). With each piece, a small, worried thought crept in. This is… kind of heavy.

He ignored it. He fastened the chest plate. It felt like putting on a refrigerator. He managed the arm guards and the gauntlets (metal gloves). Finally, he placed the full helmet, which had a narrow visor to see through, onto his head. He picked up the sword.

He was now completely encased in metal. He was unrecognizable. He looked, from the outside, like a formidable, if slightly short, knight.

The reality inside the armor was very different. Lex took a step. The weight was immense. He wobbled. Another step. His movements were slow, clunky, and awkward. He sounded like a walking toolbox with every move. Clank. Shuffle. Clunk.

“Do you require assistance, sir?” Garvin asked, hiding a smirk.

“No! I’m fine!” Lex’s voice echoed, muffled inside the helmet. “This is… just getting used to it. It’s perfect.” Pride wouldn’t let him admit the truth. He’d paid for the best, so it had to be the best.

He stumbled toward the shop door, his movements stiff. He had to turn his whole body to see through the visor. He fumbled with the doorknob with his metal-clad fingers before finally yanking it open.

Stepping out into the street, Lex felt a surge of confidence. People were looking! He stood a little straighter (as straight as the weight allowed). They’re impressed, he thought. They see a real adventurer now.

What they actually saw was a man in comically oversized, overly-shiny armor moving like his joints were rusted shut, dragging a sword that was clearly too big for him. A few children pointed and giggled.

Lex didn’t notice. He clanked and shuffled his way back to the inn. Each step was a workout. By the time he reached the door, he was sweating and exhausted.

He pushed the door open. CLANG! He misjudged the width of his armored shoulders and hit the frame.

Borin looked up from the counter. He saw a short, shiny knight standing in his doorway, breathing heavily. “We don’t serve the King’s guard here,” Borin said, confused. “You’ve got the wrong inn.”

Lex lifted his heavy arm and, with great effort, flipped up his visor. His sweaty, red face peered out. “It’s me, Borin.”

Borin’s eyes went wide. He leaned over the counter, looking Lex up and down. Then he burst out laughing. A deep, roaring laugh that shook his belly. “Is that you, kid? You look like a tin chicken! What in the mother of chickens are you wearing?”

Lex felt a flash of annoyance. “It’s high-grade armor. It looks cool.”

“It looks ridiculous!” Borin wheezed, wiping a tear. “You’re a Commoner, not a siege tower! You can barely walk! How are you supposed to fight in that?”

“I’ll manage,” Lex said, his voice echoing. He shuffled to the counter. With a clumsy, metallic clink, he placed three Gold Crowns on the wood. “For the room, the food, and your… advice. We’re settled.”

The sight of the gold instantly sobered Borin. His laughter stopped. He picked up the coins, his eyes shining with pure joy. “Well. For this, you can wear a soup pot on your head and I’ll call you ‘Your Majesty.’ Thank you, lad.”

Lex nodded, the helmet dipping heavily. “I’m going hunting.”

He turned, a slow, noisy process, and clanked back out the door. His destination: the hunter’s plaza. This was his debut. His grand reveal.

When he entered the plaza, all conversation died. Dozens of hunters, warriors, and adventurers turned to stare. The shiny, awkward figure was impossible to miss.

Lex felt their eyes. This is it, he thought, his heart swelling. They see the gear. They know I mean business now. He tried to swagger. It came out as a slow, wide-legged waddle.

The hunters didn’t see a peer. They saw a walking joke. A commoner who’d spent all his money on a costume. Smirks were hidden behind hands. Snorts of laughter were quickly turned into coughs. They weren’t jealous. They were deeply, profoundly amused.

Lex, blissfully unaware, clumped over to the quest board. His voice, muffled by the helmet, sounded hollow and silly. “I am here for a quest. I require one for… hunting medium-ranked monsters.”

A woman hunter, the one who had mocked him before, raised an eyebrow. She pointed a finger at a worn piece of paper pinned low on the board. “Sure, shiny. Try that one. It’s perfect for a knight of your… stature.”

Lex leaned forward, his armor creaking. He peered at the quest.

Wanted: Cragfur Hyena Pelt.

Location: The Stonejaw Foothills.

Danger: Medium. Pack hunters.

Reward: 1 Silver Coin, 10 Copper Coins.

It was a pitiful reward. An insult. But it said ‘medium’ danger. That’s what the System wanted. He snatched the paper. “I accept this challenge!” he declared.

A few hunters finally lost it, laughing openly. “Good luck!” one called. “Don’t let the hyenas lick the polish off!”

Lex ignored them, his pride a shield as strong as his bad armor. He turned and began the long, slow, agonizing walk out of town toward the distant mountains. Every step in the heavy plate was torture. The sword, which he had to carry in both hands, felt like a lead weight. He was exhausted before he even left the last farmhouse behind.

The sun beat down on his metal shell, turning it into an oven. Sweat poured down his face inside the stuffy helmet. “This… is… fine,” he panted to himself. “Top-tier… gear… just… has a… learning curve.”

After what felt like hours, he reached the rocky base of the Stonejaw Foothills. He was gasping. He saw strange, deep scratches on the trunks of the sparse trees. Markings. He remembered something about hyenas marking territory. He followed them, his armor clanking loudly with every step, announcing his presence to the entire wilderness.

The path led into a small, rocky clearing. And there they were.

Five Cragfur Hyenas. They were bigger than wolves, with dusty brown fur, powerful jaws, and intelligent, cruel eyes. They had been resting, but now they were all on their feet, staring at the noisy, shiny thing that had stumbled into their home.

Lex’s heart hammered. But he was encased in steel! He had a giant sword! This time was different.

The largest hyena snarled. The pack spread out, moving with silent, deadly grace, surrounding him.

“Back, beasts!” Lex yelled, his voice tinny inside the helmet. He tried to raise his sword into a fighting stance. The movement was too slow.

The lead hyena didn’t wait. It lunged, a blur of fangs and muscle, aiming for his throat.

With a yell, Lex swung the massive longsword with all his might. The weight of the sword carried the swing, but it was too wide, too slow. He missed the hyena completely. The momentum of the heavy blade was too much for his tired, weak body to control. It pulled him forward, off balance.

His metal-clad feet slipped on the loose stones.

“Whoa—!”

He fell. Not gracefully. It was a spectacular, noisy crash. CLANG! CRUNCH! He landed flat on his chest plate, the impact knocking the air from his lungs. His shiny sword clattered away across the rocks, out of reach.

For a moment, there was silence. The hyenas looked at the fallen, helpless heap of metal.

Then, as one, they attacked.

They didn’t go for the hard metal. They went for the gaps. Fangs scraped and bit at the joints of his armor—the back of his knees, his armpits, the space between his helmet and chest plate. He felt sharp pains as teeth found flesh. He was trapped, a turtle on its back, as five hungry monsters tried to figure out how to crack him open.