A Person with Morals gets Transported to Another World [LitRPG] [Satire]

The three of us resumed our journey to the belltower, which by now had taken far longer than it ever should have. In one day I had lost a debate, fought a duel, and experienced a kidnapping. Despite all of these fun activities, the sun was still high in the sky. There was ample time left for more interruptions to occur.

“Yarm, what are you going to do with that disguise?” asked Newmill while examining the texture of my coat.

“It’s not a disguise. This is what I actually look like. I had the Crafting Club make it for me so I could resemble my true self.” I attached the beard back onto my face and adjusted my balding cap. “I’m planning to wear this all the time.”

Penrin plucked the beard back off of my face. “Please do not do that. It looks so weird and you need to stop pretending like you’re an old man.”

“I don’t really like it either,” admitted Newmill. “I would prefer it if you would be yourself.”

“I am being myself! This is who I am.” I patted the belly of my formed coat. It didn’t have a satisfying slapping jiggle like my old belly did.

Penrin was annoyed that I wanted to keep wearing the items. Perhaps it was because I had scared her moments prior with how I looked. “You know that coat makes you look fat,” she said.

“It does?” I looked down and admired my curves. “Thank you!”

She groaned and ruffled her hair with both hands. “It wasn’t a compliment, idiot.”

It was strange how much I enjoyed looking like my previous self. On Earth, I hated looking at my own body. I disliked how I was overweight. I had cursed my ancestors for giving me male-pattern balding genes. There were so many features of my body that I loathed, but I would rather have all those imperfections back.

I desired to live in a body that reflected who I was. This old-man disguise was the next best thing.

“This is it,” Newmill said, looking at a large metal double door. It was completely rusted and worn down. “This should be the last door that leads to the belltower.”

The head of some creature was connected to the centre of each door. I couldn’t quite tell what it was supposed to be. Maybe a lion or a tiger. The doors were so deteriorated that the main design was flaking rust.

Still, they worked to keep us out. They were locked and my attempts to push them open did not work. At the midpoint of the door was an ornate metal lock. It had barely-discernible swirly patterns. I pulled out my trusty soundless lockpick and got to work.

The interior of the lock was very strange. Even though I had the Lockpicker title, I was having great difficulty figuring out how to open the thing. The more I felt around inside, the more I realised I wasn’t going to be able to open the lock.

“What’s wrong, Yarm?” Newmill asked.

“I don’t think I can open it. The mechanisms that are inside must be rusted just like the exterior. It can’t be picked like this.” I removed the pick from the lock and decided to look for another method instead. When a nearby student passed us, I asked them, “Do you know where I can find the key for this lock?”

The student stopped and then looked down at me sympathetically. “Oh my… it must be hard for you,”

“Yes.” It had been a tiresome journey to get here and now the way forward was blocked.

“to be balding at such a young age.”

That was what he meant? Without my beard, I still looked like a kid. I took off the balding cap.

“Oh. It was a ruse.”

I wasn’t really trying to trick him or anything. “If you know how to get in here, could you tell us, please?”

The student explained, “That lock has been broken for a long time. You couldn’t get in even if you had the key.”

“Seriously?” That was awful news. “Wait… I’ve heard the school bell ring multiple times. If no one can get in, who rings the bell?”

Newmill nibbled his fingernails. “A ghost? The school is haunted?”

The student perished the notion. “The groundskeeper is a half-bird. She flies up there to ring it.”

“Oh.” Newmill almost seemed disappointed that it wasn’t a ghost.

“Anyway, I gotta get to class.” The student left us and the unopenable door.

“So what now?” Penrin was pushing against the door but even her strength couldn’t get it to budge.

I contemplated taking a different way. “We could try climbing it from the outside,” I proposed.

Penrin gripped my shoulder. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m 99% certain a klutz like you would fall to your death.”

“Wow, Penrin. I didn’t realise you had so much faith in me,” I said. “Because I’m 100% certain that I’d fall.” This body was not made for feats of physical strength. Especially not with my comically low Body level.

My last option would be to ask the groundskeeper to fly me up there, but I didn’t think they’d listen to me. I was sure that this school had at least the minimum amount of health and safety protocols to not endanger the lives of students.

It seemed that I was all out of options, but it was only when I realised that when a flash of genius came to me. And genius ideas did not come to me very often. In fact, it may have been the first time. “I’m going to pick the lock again.”

“But you said that you couldn’t,” Newmill reminded me.

“Not in this state.” I placed my hand against the lock and started casting Repair. If the lock was broken, I could fix it. As my mana depleted, I heard scratching sounds as the lock fixed itself at the directive of my magic.

Penrin hummed a noise that made it seem as if she were impressed.

“Oh I get it,” said Newmill. “You’re fixing the lock so you can pick it! That’s rather intelligent, for you.”

Did he have to put ‘for you’ at the end of that sentence? It was even more painful to receive a backhanded compliment from someone as honest and sincere as Newmill.

I ended my skill once the lock stopped making sounds of metallic recovery. When I placed my soundless pick back inside, I noticed the inside was completely different. I could actually feel pins in the cylinder. However, picking the lock wasn’t so simple. Out of all the locks that I had seen, this one was the most complex. The tolerance of the lock was so tight that I gained a deep respect for the locksmith who constructed it. They had to have been a master at their craft to align the pin chambers so well.

Despite the difficulty of the lock, I was making steady progress towards picking it. I was certain that this was because of my Mind. I would have been incapable of picking this lock when I first gained the Lockpicker title. Because this title scaled off of Mind, I had improved its efficacy considerably with all the points I had invested into Mind.

Knowing that I had accomplished this because of the decisions I had made was exciting. That was until I realised that while I had gained the ability to pick this lock, my peers had invested into Body and Soul which allowed them to either climb up the tower or cast a spell to fly up it. Body and Soul were clearly superior stats to Mind.

People with a high Body level had much more HP and so were harder to kill. Their athleticism and flexibility and speed all increased with each point into the stat. I was jealous of those who had invested into it.

People with a high Soul level could cast magic. That in itself had infinite possibilities. By increasing this stat, they increased their MP which allowed them to cast more magic. Not only that, but the magic became stronger.

So, some gained physique and strength that could humiliate Olympians. Others received arcane talents that allowed them to do anything between creating a storm of fire and levitating a pencil they had dropped. Meanwhile, I had obtained the power to calculate things in my head without needing a chalkboard.

For example, I knew I needed 644 XP to level up. The XP threshold for level 20 was 16,000 XP and I currently had 15,356.

There was a small part of me that wanted to go back to level zero and try levelling again from the start. Now that I had more knowledge on the System and stats, I could make more informed decisions. It was depressing to know that I had wasted a lot of potential by choosing incorrect options.

“C’est la vie,” I mumbled.

“La vee,” Newmill responded.

“What?”

“You said say la vee.”

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