The crowd reacted only after a few seconds of silence. First came hushed whispers, then growing voices.
"They're really at the top...?" "That many points in a single day?" "How did they do it?" "Even that old geezer?"
Among the murmurs were awe, surprise—but also unease and envy. Some looked at Adam and Sareth with newfound respect, others with clear distance. As always, Olwen looked entirely uninterested in anyone's opinion.
Kosman seized the moment.
"As you can see," he said, raising his voice so everyone could hear, "going out on expeditions and killing monsters earns the most points. That's what we reward the highest. If anyone wants to prove themselves, I'll be right here by the board in the morning. I'll explain everything to those ready to head into the city."
Hearing those words, and feeling dozens of eyes on him, Adam made a sudden decision.
"Kosman," he called out clearly. "Can you assign me a room as soon as possible? It's really hard to live and try to sleep surrounded by dozens of people. I need a bit of silence."
Olwen twitched and immediately raised his voice.
"Me too! I want my own room! For my spine! And my rheumatism!"
Sareth simply nodded.
"Wouldn't mind one myself."
Layra chuckled under her breath and headed toward the dorm building.
"I'll get the keys. I'll sort it out."
The looks in the crowd shifted. The envy became even more visible—some clenched their jaws, others lowered their gaze. But there was something more. On a few faces, a decision formed. A thought: if they didn't act, people like Adam, Sareth, and Olwen would sleep in warm rooms while they crowded into a stuffy hall with dozens of others. And no one wanted to be left behind.
But Adam wasn't done yet.
"Kosman. Can you show us where the canteen is?"
Kosman looked at him, raising an eyebrow. After a moment, understanding dawned, and a flicker of amusement appeared on his face. He nodded and led them through the base, until they reached a large room where dozens of people were eating oatmeal from metal bowls at simple tables.
Adam leaned toward Sareth and Olwen.
"Do what I do."
He walked confidently through the middle of the room, passing stares filled with curiosity. He approached the person handing out food.
"I'll have the most expensive meal you've got."
The woman looked at him in surprise.
"Food costs points now," she said. "And the most expensive meals are... really expensive."
Kosman stepped closer and nodded.
"They can afford it."
The woman glanced at them once more in disbelief, then nodded and disappeared into the kitchen. Her voice echoed from the back:
"Three orders for the top dishes on today's menu!"
Ten minutes later, steaming plates of stew, roasted vegetables, and hot soup appeared on their table. The smell spread through the room.
Adam, Olwen, and Sareth made their way slowly through the center of the canteen, as conversations around them fell silent. Spoons froze mid-air. Eyes followed their every move. The aroma from their plates spread through the room like a challenge. As they sat at an empty table, some people stared at their meals in disbelief, others clenched their fists around metal bowls of oatmeal. No one needed to say anything—envy and tension were nearly tangible.
Olwen glanced at Adam, then at his plate, and a grin lit up his face.
"Mmm… perfect for my rheumatism," he muttered theatrically, lifting a spoonful of stew with reverence. "And my arthritis. And chronic undernourishment. Meals like this should be prescribed."
He took a bite, closed his eyes, and sighed with exaggerated contentment.
"And this is just the starter, right? I hope the main course has healing properties too. I feel like I'm regaining my youth."
He glanced at a nearby table.
"Makes you feel alive, doesn't it? Too bad we can't trade meals… like half a plate for half a point. Or a particularly jealous stare."
Veins appeared on some observers' foreheads. One couldn't take it anymore—he stood and walked over to their table.
"This is supposed to be fair?" he said bitterly. "We get oatmeal, and you get a feast?"
Adam looked up, his gaze calm but firm. There was a trace of fatigue in his eyes, and a cautious resolve.
"If you want, you can come with us tomorrow," he said quietly, but loud enough for everyone to hear. "Every trip is a risk. We don't know if we'll come back. It's the most dangerous job… and that's why it pays the most."
The guy opened his mouth as if to protest, but Adam continued.
"We're not hoarding points," he added. "Tomorrow we might be dead. Today, I'll eat something that feels like real food. And I'll do it without shame."
There was no arrogance in his voice—only brutal honesty. This wasn't about showing off. It was a reminder.
The guy froze, then lowered his gaze. For a moment, he seemed like he wanted to say more, but instead, he just clenched his jaw and walked away, hunched over as if carrying more than just hunger.
Olwen raised a brow and looked around the canteen, searching for an audience.
"All this fuss over a bowl of stew," he muttered, then pointed his fork at a circle of young people. "And here I am, an old man with rheumatism, arthritis, and a memory that sometimes works like Windows 95... still going into the city to kill a few corpses."
He glanced meaningfully at the students.
"So what's the excuse, ladies and gents? Youth, energy, Gen Z—yet no spine? Ah, this generation... warm, cozy, but the moment you have to move your butt, everyone forgets they've got legs."
Some young people looked away. One girl lowered her head, another guy pushed his oatmeal bowl away like he'd suddenly lost his appetite.
Sareth looked at Olwen, eyebrows raised.
"Didn't know you knew what Windows 95 was," he whispered, still slightly shocked.
"What?" Olwen raised a brow. "Think old folks don't know tech?"
He snorted.
"I might not look it, but when you're my age and your kids have long forgotten you, you end up with plenty of time. MMOs, singleplayer RPGs, strategy games, FPS... I've had more dungeon runs than some of you have had birthdays."
Adam and Kosman stared at Olwen, surprised, but said nothing. Instead, they focused on the food, enjoying the warm meal in silence.
When they finished eating, Layra burst into the canteen. She looked around quickly, then headed straight toward them with three small items in hand.
"Here are your room keys," she said with a smile, handing them metal tags. "And one more thing—Grzywacz and Nira are back from their trip. So there's going to be another meeting in ten minutes."
Hearing that, Olwen took the key and immediately stood up from the table.
"I'm tired. Going to my new room," he announced proudly, like he'd just won the lottery.
"Maybe a private room won't cure my joints... but at least no one will be snoring," he added with a grin, then turned and walked toward the dorms, muttering something about creaky beds and lack of tea.
Adam, Kosman, and Sareth exchanged tired glances at the old man's behavior, then followed Layra toward the meeting place.