Grum: Barbarian Barista: A litRPG Short Story

by John Rickett

  Were she a beast, she would be put down.

  Added Effect! Lexi takes 17 damage.

  HP: 32/150

  It had been twenty levels since Grum used his last health potion, but if he had one now, he’d sacrifice it for Lexi. She seemed as much a part of the party as Gabe or Candice or himself. Many NPCs in his world had sentient items as trusted companions, and without Lexi, the morning rush would be overwhe—

  “Umm, G…” Gabe’s eyes widened. He pointed past the barbarian.

  Grum spun. Smoke billowed out of the toaster door. Grum grabbed the handle.

  Grum takes 13 points of burning damage!

  HP: 9968/9999

  He ground his teeth and threw open the toaster door.

  “What the hell?” Candice cried. “Did you take off the wrappers?”

  Flames poured out of the toaster, licking the lid, spitting smoke to the ceiling. He released the handle and fanned the smoke with his hand, trying to peer in.

  Gabe ran into the side room, leaving Lexi grinding, grinding, grinding. He returned almost instantly with a large extinguisher. A few of the patrons gasped. Some fled out of the doors. Others backed away from the counter glaring at the crew with impatient, or even pitiful looks.

  “Better not be my Hashed Yams,” a man’s voice cried.

  Candice put her arms up complacently. “Sir, if you could just—”

  “Step back,” Gabe said.

  Grum didn’t.

  Gabe sprayed the extinguisher—a dragon, breathing white foam, blanketing the area. Covering the toaster, the counter, the floor. And Grum.

  Added Effect! Lexi takes 15 damage.

  HP: 17/150

  The smoke alarms blared to life. Grum covered his ears from the banshee’s cry and sought the beast. A strobing light of white and red on the ceiling. He jumped up, grabbing the round thing, tore it from its home and smashed it on the counter. But the sound persisted. Other lights strobed around the café. The smell of burnt plastic rose to the ceiling.

  A woman screamed. A younger man pulled out his phone and pointed it towards Grum. Other customers scurried out.

  Candice was busy trying to placate the customer. “We’re sorry, he’s new. We’re more than willing to—”

  “Shut it. I want to talk to your manager.”

  Gabe put down the extinguisher. “Look, please, there’s no reason—”

  He shoved a finger in Gabe’s face. “Look kid, get your manager or I’ll jump back there and get him myself.”

  Grum rushed over, shoving Candice and Gabe out of the way. Candice fell to the ground with a surprised cry. No one disrespected his party. Not Edgar the Immortal. Not the Archon, Xaoc. Not this man with the oily hair, wearing hoops in his ears.

  Pirate.

  He roared in the man’s face. “Cross this counter. I will tear your ribs from your chest. Use them to pick your skin from my teeth.” He gripped the front counter and heaved, tearing it from the floor. He lifted it above his head. “Want to know my might? Examine me! EXAMINE ME!”

  “Grum!” Candice said, “What the fuc—”

  BOOOOOOOOOOOM!

  Added Effect! Lexi takes 17 damage.

  HP: 0/150

  Lexi has been defeated.

  Shrapnel peppered his back. Gabe and Candice screamed. Beans rained down on them like hail, tinking off the counter. Grum dropped the counter and threw his body atop his party, shielding them with his massive Hit Point pool.

  When the beans settled, Gabe was on the ground, his hands clamped on the side of his head. Above him, smoke rose from a crack in Lexi’s stomach. She was laying on her side, her metal collapsed in. Her 98mm grinder teeth were exposed behind broken plastic lips. Her glass skull was missing a chunk. Brains spattered across the counter, across the café.

  Eli burst through the door. “What’s going on ou…”

  Grum had seen this kind of mutilation before, but none had made him feel such a heavy pit in his stomach. None had dried his mouth. These deaths, they weren’t invigorating. The toaster smoldered and spasmed, shooting out pathetic little sparks. Most of the counter lay on its side, the register spilled over, change from the tip jar scattered on the floor. What remained of the counter, along with the floor was covered in white foam, dotted with coffee beans. Lexi sent out a fizzling death rattle.

  Candice picked herself up off the floor, holding onto her elbow while a customer wiped coffee spatter off their suit jacket. The man Grum had screamed at stood in the middle of the room. He was pale, a wet spot spread on the groin of his pants.

  Eli surveyed the area. “What… happened?”

  Grum reached under his kilt and scratched his balls.

  Candice shoved him. “Are you kidding me? You fucking freak.”

  “Language,” Eli said.

  She was shaking with fury. Grum saw the fire in her eyes, smelled the anger in her sweat. Candice put her hand up. “Can it, Eli. Go find him some cattle to slaughter or something. He tried to set the place on fire, he’s getting in customer’s faces. He just…” she motioned to Grum’s kilt. “You saw him just…” Her body quivered. She motioned to the broken grinder. “Eli… He… He killed Lexi.”

  Eli gasped.

  Customers gasped.

  Gabe’s sobbing filled the café.

  Candice removed a tear with her thumb. “He’s not cut out for this.”

  Eli looked down at Gabe. He’d taken Lexi from the counter and was cradling her like a lost lover, rocking back and forth. He looked at the fried toaster, the remaining customers, the wreckage of the fire alarm. He had the look of an executioner, axe poised above an exposed neck.

  “Mr. Grum. All things considered…” Eli’s lips tightened. The room seemed to cave in on Grum. “I have to let you go.”

  Even though Grum had never heard it phrased like that, he knew what it meant.

  Quest failed.

  The walk to the lockers felt like walking through the bloody aftermath of war. Every building burned, every horse butchered, every ally slaughtered, or worse, turned traitorous. His boots were boulders he dragged across the tile battlefield. His head was weighed down with the crown of shame, heavier than mercury—more toxic.

  He reached for the latch of locker three, but his hand fell. His whole body seemed to sag, so he leaned into the locker, feeling the cool metal on his forehead. Behind him, Helen rang out a rag in the slop sink. And then, she was gone.

  There was nothing to do but find another quest. Not only had he failed his quest, he’d failed his first party. Maybe this was the world Albatross had invented for him, one where he couldn’t overcome everything with brute strength.

  Albatross was a sly one.

  Worst still was the feeling this world gave him. One of freedom. Freedom that he never felt in Algothia, even at the height of his power. Yet, that freedom led to failure. Before this world, he’d always felt bound. He felt controlled by something. A higher power, perhaps. The gods. They had always illuminated his path and made sure he didn’t stray. In combat, he could relinquish control and smite down every enemy. And though he often felt like a puppet, the gods had helped him forge his destiny.

  And this world had no gods.

  Now, Grum was in control, and for the first time ever, he’d failed.

  Some warrior…

  His hands found the strength to lift the latch. Found the strength to swing open the door, exposing some of the most unique gear ever acquired by a hero. Any hero. But none of it mattered. He took the Helm of the Siren Song and threw it haphazardly on his head. The Gloves of Vice felt clammy and cold on his hands. His axe, normally radiant seemed almost tarnished with age. It felt too light to ever cleave a head in half.

  He closed the locker and walked back into the café.

  Gabe was using a dozen pre-ground bags of coffee to brew drinks—a catch-all grind, not at all the optimal particulate grind distribution.

  It must have pained the bard.

  Candice had made a sign: TOASTER BROKEN.
TRY A PASTRY. Next to it, she’d drawn a smiling face. It was the only smile in the place. New customers had appeared, sidestepping the mess Helen was cleaning.

  Someone had righted the counter.

  A few of the same customers who’d witnessed Lexi’s death were still there, pushed against the counter, yelling at Eli as he struggled to get the register back in order.

  Eli played diplomat making apologies and compensating customers.

  Grum slogged through the café, hanging his head, trailing the handle of the Demonfire behind him.

  “One moment,” he heard Eli say. “Mr. Grum?”

  He’d already had his hand on the glass door. He lowered it, turning towards Eli, his hope building that he’d be given a second chance.

  “The apron is Tarbean property. Please remove it.”

  Of course. He hadn’t acquired enough wages to even afford the damned apron. Candice had been right. He wasn’t cut out for this work.

  The most depressing thing, he lacked the energy to kill everyone anymore.

  “I understand,” Grum said, removing his helmet tearing the apron off. “This gear is too high-level for me.”

  He held the balled-up apron against his chest. Breathing pained his chest. He’d felt rage before, like embers in his stomach, but this was the first time he’d ever felt this kind of rage at himself. This kind of loss, it seemed, cut deeper than a glaive, hotter than dragonfire, more crushing than the largest maul taken to the chest.

  Eli silenced an irate customer with a finger. “Mr. Grum?”

  When Grum squeezed tight, he knew how Gabe felt, cradling Lexi in his arms. Inside the apron, he felt something lumpy. Grum furrowed his brows and dug inside the pockets.

  Coffee beans.

  Lexi’s brain-matter, raining down on them.

  He felt the heaviness of them through his Gloves of Vice. The hardness of them. The aroma filled his lungs, sat in the back of his mouth.

  “Mr. Grum. I’m sorry this didn’t work out, but aprons are for employees.”

  Grum sighed, balling the beans in his fist. “You fortunate few,” he said, “to construct ambrosia.”

  Gabe was looking at him, red-eyed, stroking Lexi’s broken glass skull. Candice looked at her wrist, circled her hand in the hurry it along, motion. The remaining customer’s faces were a mix of irritation and remorse.

  “Failure is not something I am accustomed to… I have failed. Failed my quest. Failed my party.”

  Failed.

  Admitting it made it etched in stone. Permanent. Out in the air, mixing with the rich, bitter, smell.

  Grum squeezed his fist.

  The aroma burst from his hand like blood from an enemy’s crushed heart. Intoxicated, he moved his hand to his face. Sucked in a giant breath.

  The languidness of conquest, battle or otherwise. The invigoration of charging into combat, roaring maniacally.

  If it was anything he’d miss, it would be the smell.

  Grum opened his Gloves of Vice to take one more look at the magical beans. Just to say goodbye. But instead of beans…

  Perfect particulate grind distribution.

  Stones become dust.

  Grum threw his apron on like a cape and reseated his Helm of the Siren Song.

  “Mr. Grum, what exactly is it you think you’re do—”

  “Be calm,” Grum said, putting his hand out and activating the Helm of the Siren Song.

  Grum activates Helm of the Siren Song

  Charm: Success!

  Charges remaining: 1/50

  Eli’s expression blinked from annoyance to peace. He smiled. “Fantastic idea.”

  Grum vaulted the counter. The customers who’d stopped yelling at Eli to watch the spectacle began bickering again.

  “Cease your yelling,” Grum said.

  And they did.

  Grum activates Helm of the Siren Song

  Charm: Success!

  Charges remaining: 0/50

  Grum looked at the dozen or so other customers who had gathered. “Be polite to my party. Wait patiently for your beverages.”

  They flowed into an organized, single-file line towards the counter.

  “G,” Gabe said. “Your helm… What are you doing, man? You said you were saving it for something important.”

  “This is important.”

  Candice pointed towards the door. “Seriously? You’ve done enough damage.”

  “Damage is what I do.”

  Grum extended a hand down towards Gabe. “I am truly sorry for damaging Lexi. For damaging your trust in me. Together, we can be a legendary party, one which rivals The Heroes of Hellswatch.“

  Gabe grabbed his hand and rose. “I don’t know, G…”

  “I swear to you, I will be a worthy student.” Grum got down on a knee, so he was eye-level with Gabe. “I will find the gold to replace Lexi. We cannot let a fallen friend’s legacy be wasted. From this day forward,” he said, rising. “I will work to undo damage.”

  “And how exactly, do you plan on doing that?” Candace asked.

  “I shall grind coffee. Toast food.”

  “Toaster?” Candice waved a hand towards the smoldering remains. “Umm…”

  Grum stomped over to the freezer, threw open the door and grabbed a Veal Pocket.

  “Who would like a free… this?” He held the pocket high.

  A woman in a sundress, moved out of her position in line, raising her hand.

  Grum took the Veal Pocket. Wrapper… Of course. He took it out of the wrapper, turned the frozen meal over in his hands.

  Candice leaned in. “Sooooooo?”

  “We will not be using the toaster,” Grum said. He wedged the handle of the axe under the toaster remains, letting the head hover past the counter. Then, he channeled his rage into the Demonfire axe. The head burst molten.

  Gabe moved closer. “Hell yeah. That’ll sear the shit out of a Veal Pocket.”

  Candice’s mouth fell open, her eyes transfixed in the fiery glow of the axe.

  Grum tossed the Veal Pocket on the blade. It sizzled and popped.

  “Grum,” Candice said, peeling her eyes away from the Demonfire. “About you trying to defend me earlier… listen. Very clearly. Don’t do it again. I’ve been handling asshole customers for years. I do it better than most people. And I sure as hell do it better than you.”

  He had been a fool for thinking otherwise. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe he was so accustomed to being the most powerful person, he’d forgotten other people had strength in them too.

  Candice flinched as Grum set a hand on her shoulder. “You are a worthy warrior. I will not attempt to fight your battles again. It was not my place. My intent was not to make you appear weak. But know that if you need aid, I will lay down my life for you.”

  She reached up to place a cool hand over his. Beneath her green curls, a smirk appeared. “Don’t screw up again.”

  “E-boss…” Gabe moved aside Eli. “We got this. You can chill back in the office.”

  Eli’s eyes were glassed over. He didn’t move. So, Gabe turned him towards his office and gave him a little push. Eli nodded happily, trotting off. He paused before going through the door. “If you fine folks need me, I’ll be taking a nap to some smooth jazz.”

  A wide smile spread across Gabe’s face as he relaxed an arm on the counter. “Welcome to Tarbean, home of the darkest coffee on the planet.”

  For the remainder of the rush, his party—no… it wasn’t his party—the party worked together like a single mind. The glow in Gabe’s eyes was back, commanding customers like a maestro. Candice was hypnotic, a circus performer juggling syrups with one hand while emptying portafilters with the other. Helen was a janitorial ninja, flitting around the crowd, cleaning up rogue spills, wiping tables, and emptying garbages.

  Eli could be heard snoring beyond his office door.

  The only rush today was the one Grum felt as he grabbed huge handfuls of beans, and squeezed, smashing them up with the Gloves of Vice. He fou
nd a victory in every frozen meal, seared to a perfect brown—a rustic, gamey taste the customers found refreshingly crunchy.

  Strong food makes strong men.

  When the rush was over, Gabe grabbed the tip jar, which was overflowing with green paper and silver coins. He presented it to Candice. “G brings in the bills. No doubt about it.”

  Candice agreed.

  Grum stood between them. “We all battled bravely… let us split the spoils of war.”

  As the last of the rush customers fizzled out, a lone hipster sat in the corner, hammering something out on his computer. Another woman read a book while two teenagers took pictures of their food, then of themselves. Then of themselves eating food. Out past the windows, cars crawled by, overtaken by swarms of pedestrians who walked in the gloom of the city.

  Grum crushed up grounds for resale, emptying them into bags. Gabe sealed them.

  Candice and Helen removed the toaster, cleaned the foam from the extinguisher off the floor and counter. Grum had licked the foam off his beard, slurping fistfuls of hair into his mouth. Candice’s face turned the color of her hair as she retched and ran off to the bathroom.

  “She’s right,” Gabe said. “You’re vile.”

  Grum couldn’t disagree.

  For now, Lexi sat under the counter, shrouded by a dish towel. Gabe had said a few words. There was a moment of silence. He’d scheduled a funeral service at a local tavern later in the day.

  Grum was invited.

  Candice returned from the bathroom, fanning herself with her hand. “Grum, crush me two at six. Need something to wash down the thought of you.”

  “Two?”

  “I don’t know…” She wiped down the cappuccino machine. “Even if you’re super rough around the edges, I suppose you earned yourself one too.”