The God-Tier Commoner

Eight Crowns for Glory

Lex followed Borin through a narrow door behind the inn’s counter. It led to a small, dusty storeroom. Shelves were lined with jars and sacks. Borin lit a single candle on a barrel that served as a table.

“Alright, kid,” Borin said, crossing his arms. “Private enough. You'll pay for information. Start asking.”

Lex leaned against a sack of grain. He had so many questions, but he needed to sound smart. He couldn’t just yell, ‘How does this video game world work?’

“Terrafantasia,” Lex began. “Give me the big picture. How is it all set up? And more importantly, how does a person move up? How do you get a higher rank?”

Borin squinted at him. “These are things every child knows. Where are you really from? I’ve heard every accent from here to the Silver Mountains, but yours… it’s nothing.”

Lex waved a hand, using his old, dismissive charm. “A very, very faraway land. An island. You’ve never heard of it. We kept to ourselves. Now, the information. One Gold Crown’s worth, please.” He placed the shining, red stone on the barrel. It glinted in the candlelight.

Borin stared at the red stone, then at Lex’s confident face. He shrugged. A gold coin was a gold coin. He wasn’t a philosopher; he was an innkeeper.

“Fine,” Borin grunted, scooping up the beard he had. “The simple version. The world have three continents.” He drew rough shapes in the dust on the barrel with his finger.

“First, there’s Aurelia. That’s us.” He pointed to the eastern-most shape. “We’re the ‘Coin-Purse’ of the world. Rich in resources. Gold, silver, copper, iron. You name it, we dig it up. It’s why you see so many traders, merchants, and guys like me here. More businessmen than warriors. We have monsters, sure, in the woods and hills, but nothing like the stories. Life is… comfortable.”

He moved his finger to the central shape. “This is The Heartland. That’s where the fancy folk live. Nobles, old families, the cultural elite. It’s lush and rich from our trade. Getting in isn’t easy for commoners. They have their rules, their airs. Lots of knights and wizards are trained there, in fancy schools.”

Finally, he jabbed a finger at the western shape. “And this… this is The Grimreach. All of the Monsters you saw came out from a portal. The portals are randomly placed in every continent, but in Grimreach, it was filled with portals. We just call it ‘The West.’ It’s hell on earth. Monster country. The wilderness there is ancient and angry. The only people who live there are the tough, the desperate, and the incredibly powerful. The strongest hunters, the most battle-hardened knights. They say the people from the Grimreach are built different. Meaner. Harder. You don’t go there unless you’re looking for a glorious death or legendary treasure.”

Lex absorbed it all. He was in the resource continent. The safe zone. It made sense.

“And the ranks? The kings and knights?” Lex pressed.

Borin chuckled. “The very top? That’s Royalty. Kings, Queens, Princes. That’s all bloodline. You’re born into it, or you marry into it. No amount of leveling gets you a crown. Below them, you have the Knights—sworn to protect the royals and the realms. The best of the best. Then you have the classes. Wizards for magic, Warriors for brute force, Healers like Yorn, Hunters for well, hunting. There are more, but those are the main ones.”

“But how do you become one?” Lex asked. “I’m a Commoner. How does that change?”

“Ah, the Power Scale,” Borin said. “It’s an event. Happens in the major town square every month. You stand on this big, enchanted disc. It glows and measures your… well, your power. Your level, your mana, your potential. The light shoots up a pillar. The height it reaches determines your official class rank. You can’t just call yourself a Hunter. The Scale has to confirm it.”

It was like a standardized test for murderhobos, Lex thought.

“And the money?” Lex asked, already knowing the coins but wanting the context.

“Simple ladder,” Borin said, counting on his fingers. “Copper Coins at the bottom. Then Bronze. Then Silver. Then Gold Coins. At the very top, the Gold Crown. That’s what you have. One Gold Crown is worth one hundred Gold Coins. It’s serious money. And that jewel of yours? Monster cores, beast jewels… you trade those at a licensed pawnbroker. They’ll give you coin for it.”

Lex’s mind was whirling. Politics, continents, a power-ranking event. It was a lot. But he understood systems. This was just a new, weird, dangerous system to master.

A cheerful ping interrupted his thoughts. The blue screen materialized between him and Borin.

New Quest: Trial of Grit.

Kill three (3) medium-ranked monsters on a solo adventure.

Time Limit: 24 hours.

Failure Penalty: You can only eat bugs for nourishment for one (1) week.

Lex’s face went pale. “Bugs?”

Borin jumped. “What? What’s wrong? You see a ghost?”

“Bugs?” Lex repeated, staring at the screen in horror. He hated bugs. In his old life, if he saw a cockroach, he’d sell the penthouse. The idea of having to eat them… a whole week… his stomach churned.

“Kid, you’re talking to the air again,” Borin said, looking concerned.

The screen faded. Lex took a deep breath, forcing his old calm back. Panic wouldn’t help. He needed to move.

He stood up. “Borin. Where’s the best pawnshop in town? A reputable one.”

Borin pointed a thick thumb toward the door. “Two streets over. ‘Garvin’s Goods.’ He’s honest. For a pawnbroker.”

“Thanks,” Lex said. He turned to leave, then paused. “And Borin? The room and the meals we talked about? We’ll settle that after I get back.”

He left the storeroom, a man on a mission. He marched through the common room, ignoring the few early drinkers, and stepped out into the early noon sun.

Garvin’s Goods was easy to find. A sign with a scale and a sword hung above a clean-looking storefront. A bell tinkled as Lex entered.

The shop was crowded with oddities, old armor on stands, dusty books, strange trinkets. A thin, sharp-eyed man with spectacles looked up from behind a glass counter. “Can I help you?” he asked, his voice polite but bored.

Then he saw Lex’s clothes—still torn and stained blue. His expression shifted to mild disdain. A commoner with no money.

Lex didn’t say a word. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the warm, red Crimson Core, and placed it on the glass counter with a soft thunk.

The change in the pawnbroker, Garvin, was instant. His bored eyes bulged. He snatched up his spectacles, put them on, and leaned so close his nose almost touched the jewel. He breathed a shaky sigh.

“A Crimson Core… high purity…” he whispered. He looked up at Lex, his gaze now filled with shock and new respect. “How… how does a commoner come by a treasure like this?”

Lex gave him a thin, mysterious smile. It was the same smile he used when dodging questions from journalists about his latest date. “My master tasked me with selling it,” he said smoothly. “I ask no questions about where he gets his things.”

Garvin clearly didn’t believe him, but the jewel was real. That was all that mattered. He cleared his throat. “Of course. A discrete transaction. The market value… for one of this quality… I can offer you nine Gold Crowns.”

Lex didn’t blink. “The innkeeper Borin said ten.”

Garvin’s eye twitched. “Borin is a judge of ale, not jewels. Nine is more than fair.”

“Ten,” Lex repeated, his voice calm. “Or I take it to the next town. I hear they have a lovely auction house.”

They stared at each other. Finally, Garvin sighed, defeated. “Fine. Ten Gold Crowns.” He pulled a small, heavy iron strongbox from under the counter. He counted out ten magnificent gold coins, each stamped with a royal crest. They clinked musically as he pushed them across the glass.

Lex scooped them up. They were wonderfully heavy. He then slid two of them back toward Garvin.

“Now,” Lex said, his smile turning genuine. “For Two Gold Crowns, I need to see your best hunting equipment. Not the fancy showpiece stuff. The real, usable gear for someone who plans to… meet some medium-sized problems. Solo.”

Garvin looked at the two gold coins, then at the eight still in Lex’s hand. A real, hungry smile spread across his face. This was no longer a pity sale. This was a major purchase.

“Right this way, sir,” Garvin said, his voice now warm and professional. He lifted a section of the counter. “Let me show you to our premium stock. I have just the things for a… solo adventurer.”

He led Lex toward the back of the shop, where the light was better and the items looked newer. Lex’s heart beat with a thrill he hadn’t felt since buying his first supercar. This was shopping with stakes. This was for survival.

And as he looked at the rows of gleaming blades, sturdy leather armor, and mysterious potions, a wide, eager grin spread across his face.

He was going to gear up.