Blorbo, mighty table of legend, master of endurance, survivor of wagon duels, champion of unwanted Perception gains… was now a cabbage stand.

  Every morning, Lena and Rob hauled him onto the new rickety cart they had just bought, dragged him through the muddy streets of Iakesi, and plopped him down at the marketplace like a common folding table at a village fair. And every morning, without fail, the cycle repeated: cabbages were unceremoniously dumped onto his surface, and he sat there. Their stall was even at the corner far away from the supposed stall with a crystal ball, so he would never be able to observe the Mage people were whispering about apart from the few instances in the morning where Lena would push the cart past that stall.

  No heavy burdens. No perilous balancing acts. Just cabbages.

  And Blorbo was furious.

  The worst part? The System had utterly abandoned him.

  No quests. No stat gains. No means of training. Nothing. The System had all but slapped him across his wooden face and declared, You shall marinate in irrelevance!

  This would be the seventh day he sat at the market. Usually, around this time, Master Bimbleton would strut through the stalls, puffed up like an overfed peacock, tossing backhanded compliments and taunting Rob about how his ten silver coins were funding his humble lifestyle.

  But today, there was no Bimbleton.

  Instead, a figure shrouded in tattered purple robes emerged from the crowd. His motions were smooth, and he moved with the kind of gait that screamed mysterious magical person who doesn’t deal with peasantry. The hood obscured most of his face, save for a sharp chin and a pair of piercing, silver-threaded eyes that shimmered beneath the shadow.

  Blorbo had caught glimpses of this figure way too often before.

  This was the owner of that stall. The one with the crystal ball. The one people whispered about in hushed tones while buying perfectly ordinary things like bread and fish. The mage.

  Nobody really knew what he sold, because he’d never sold anything that was of use to a normal person. Two days before, Blorbo had overheard a man whining about how he had tried to purchase a simple lucky charm, only to be upsold an ornate elephant crown (which would hardly be an upsell considering the thing cost him only 28 shillings). When he pointed out that there were no elephants in this entire kingdom, the mage had simply shrugged and replied, "Eez for future. One never knows when one must crown an elephant, eh?"

  Lena, who was dozing off and drenching Blorbo’s surface with her own drool, straightened. “Good morning, sir! Interested in some fresh—”

  The orb-stall owner raised a single gloved hand. “Sssssilence, cabbage mongress. You are drowning true power under an ocean of cabbage peasantry.” He wore another glove underneath that glove.

  She stared at him without blinking nor saying anything. I would too if I were her. Probably too confused to even act.

  His voice was thick with a lilting accent that seemed like he made up in his free time. “Zese cabbages. Hm.” He reached out, plucked one from the pile, and turned it over in his fingers with scrutiny. “Ah, yes, yes. Very round.”

  “You’re weird,” said the woman who made a poem about poisoning her customers.

  The man took off his first glove, leaned forward, his robes billowing slightly as his face encroached Lena’s personal space. “You. You are ze daughter of ze old farmer, ah?”

  Lena tensed. “Old, yes. Farmer, no. He hasn’t touched a plow in years. But why do you—”

  “Yeeees,” the mage (?) purred, nodding sagely. “I see it now.”

  Lena shifted uncomfortably. “See what?”

  The mage (?) slowly placed the cabbage back onto Blorbo’s surface, then patted it twice very sagely. “Tell me, cabbage mongress… Do you believe in fate?” He then took off his second glove to reveal his grand secret: a third glove.

  Blorbo braced himself. This feels VERY quest-like. Surely the universe doesn’t drop all this weirdness on me only to NOT give me a quest.

  Lena gave the mage (?) a wary look. “Uh… That depends. Is fate buying cabbages today?”

  The mage (?) let out a long, raspy wheeze that soon turned into a cackle. “Ha-ha-HA! Ah! Exzellent! You have ze humor, yes! Good! Good, good.” He abruptly stopped laughing and leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. “…Because ze fate hath brought me here. I am ze firm believer in first encounters.”

  But we’ve seen each other every day for a week? Hello?

  “Oh!” Lena’s eyes shimmered. “Are you selling trinkets or pebbles?”

  The man eyed her extremely sagely. “No. But I am offering you… ze chance to reach your full potential.”

  He pushed a finger onto Blorbo’s surface with a suspiciously deliberate amount of force.

  Then…

  The System returned.

  [NEW QUEST AVAILABLE—The Art of Opportunity]

  Objective: Identify a potential quest-giver within the market before sundown

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Reward: Choose one of the two below

  NEW SKILL: Opportunity Sense (Rank I) – Enables the detection of quests on existing individuals within your acquaintance circle

  Or

  Change Name — You can change your name once

  Failure: Eternal life as a cabbage altar

  Are you kidding me? Why would you make me choose between the only two things I want in life right now?

  Lena rested her elbows on Blorbo’s surface, chin in her hands, and sighed. “If this is another weird sales pitch for elephant accessories, I will have to pass.”

  Do not pass. DO NOT PASS! What if he’s a quest giver?

  The mage (?) gasped. “Mongress! You wound me!” He clutched his chest, and his third-gloved hand gripped his robe as he staggered. “I am not here for commerce, but for destiny!”

  Lena stared blankly. “You are selling something, though, right?”

  The mage (?) reached into his robe and pulled out a fully cooked fish on a plate. He held it aloft like it was a sacred relic. “Zis is what I offer.”

  Lena blinked. “That’s a fish.”

  And a rainbow trout too. The objectively worst-tasting fish.

  “Ah. My mistake. I used ze wrong glove.” With a flourish, the mage (?) tossed aside his third glove, revealing the fourth glove. He then reached into his robe once more.

  Lena and Blorbo started at his robe for seconds.

  From the depths of his many-pocketed robe, the mage (?) produced…

  “A stick?” Lena squinted her eyes.

  “Zis a wand,” he replied as he placed it in her palm. Lena didn’t know why but she had already unconsciously opened her hands to receive it.

  The ‘wand’ was so tiny it sat neatly on her palm line.

  Lena stared at it.

  Blorbo stared at it.

  Lena cleared her throat. “Uh. I don’t mean to be rude, but… is yours supposed to be that small?”

  “Ze smallest are ze most skillful. Ze is nothing shameful about having a small wand inside you.”

  “How much are you offering it for?”

  “Keep it. I charge no fee for destiny, ah.” He wore a glove into his gloved hand.

  “You are too kind.”

  “Within the first month. From zee second month onward, it is a subscription fee of 100 shillings.”

  Lena immediately closed her fingers around the wand and tossed it back at him. “No thanks.”

  The mage (?) yelped, fumbling with his over-gloved hands to catch it. The wand bounced off his palm, flipped twice in the air, and landed neatly on Blorbo’s surface, where it sat, radiating a vague aura of uselessness.

  [You have been Blessed with a Global Aura: Useless Gloved Fool]

  Effect: Whenever you wear 4 gloves on a single hand at once, mana cost for Spellcasting of Basic or Rare Spells decreases by 50%

  Duration: Forever

  Blorbo screamed internally. But I don’t have hands? This skill is overpoweringly useless!

  “Keep it.” The man knocked once on the table. “By nightfall, if you still see no use in this wand, you are free to return it. I shall exchange the wand for an ornate elephant crown.”

  “Sir, I—”

  But the man had already glided away.

  Blorbo watched as Lena desperately tried to chase after him, when suddenly…

  [QUEST COMPLETED—The Art of Opportunity]

  Choose your reward wisely. You will not have a chance to reselect.

  But I’ve only ever interacted with that odd man?

  Wait…

  Is he the real deal? A real quest giver? A mage? How is that possible? Do all mages have small sticks?

  The silhouette of both people were reduced to the size of an insect as Blorbo’s eyes. Staring at the System prompt, he internally wept.

  Opportunity Sense

  or

  Change Name

  Freedom from Blorbo or a lifetime of actually finding quests.

  His very essence ached for the second option. To change his name, to cast off the humiliating fate that had bound him since reincarnation. No longer would he be called Table or Blorbo. No longer would he suffer the indignity of being furniture first, person second.

  But…

  Blorbo was not stupid.

  What good was a name if he rotted away in irrelevance?

  No.

  I am a table, but I am not an idiot.

  With the full force of his reluctant, agonized will, he made his choice.

  [CHOICE SELECTED: OPPORTUNITY SENSE (Rank I)]

  Lena, having given up on her pursuit of the gliding con artist, grumbled as she trudged back. “Ugh. He vanished. I don’t know how, but he did.” She looked down at Blorbo. “Well, at least I got a free—” She frowned. “… Where’s the wand?”

  Blorbo twitched.

  The wand was no longer on his surface.

  But there was another, more immediately attention-grabbing symbol that was catching his attention.

  The question mark over Lena’s head.