The town of Axel was, for lack of a better word, quaint. It was a charming hodgepodge of timber-framed houses, cobblestone streets, and the pervasive, earthy smell of livestock. It looked like the kind of place that would have a yearly festival dedicated to a root vegetable. To Deadpool, it was a target-rich environment. Every window held the potential for a clothesline, every alley a potential shortcut to laundry-based larceny.
He strode through the main gate with the unearned confidence of a king returning to his castle. The townsfolk gave him a wide berth, their expressions a cocktail of fear, confusion, and mild disgust. A man in a bright red and black full-body suit, complete with twin katanas on his back, wasn't exactly an everyday sight, even in a town for rookie adventurers. He ignored their stares, his focus entirely on his internal monologue.
"Okay, the white box was right about one thing," he thought, patting the pouch that held his first prize. "As glorious as this quest is, it doesn't pay. We need money. Eris. And the turnip-man said this place has an Adventurer's Guild. That means quests. And quests mean cash."
"FINALLY! VIOLENCE FOR PROFIT!" the yellow box screamed joyfully. "LET'S GO PUNCH A DRAGON IN THE FACE!"
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Deadpool muttered aloud, drawing a strange look from a woman carrying a basket of bread. "We start small. Giant rats in a basement, maybe. Missing cat. Something that lets us get the lay of the land and maybe scout out the local hosiery situation."
It wasn't hard to find the Guild. It was the largest, loudest, and most conspicuously violent-looking building in town. Laughter, shouting, and the occasional sound of shattering glass spilled out from its swinging doors. It was less of a professional headquarters and more of a tavern with a job board. Perfect.
He pushed the doors open and stepped inside. The chaos hit him like a physical blow. The hall was massive, filled with long wooden tables packed with adventurers of every shape and size. There were grizzled warriors in heavy plate armor, nimble-looking rogues in leather, and robed mages trying to read scrolls amidst the din. The air was thick with the smell of cheap ale, sweat, and desperation. It smelled like home.
At the far end of the hall was a massive quest board, plastered with parchments. And behind a long counter stood the Guild staff, looking profoundly overworked. Deadpool zeroed in on a blonde woman with a surprisingly large bust, who seemed to be handling registrations. She had the weary, thousand-yard stare of someone who had explained the concept of a "kill quest" one too many times.
He sauntered up to the counter, cutting in front of a nervous-looking kid in ill-fitting armor.
"Greetings, fair maiden of the quest-giving persuasion!" he announced, leaning on the counter with a casual air. "I am new in town and wish to pledge my sword, my skills, and my stunning good looks to the noble cause of adventure. Point me toward the dotted line."
The woman, whose name tag read 'Luna', gave him a tired, practiced smile. "Welcome to the Axel Adventurer's Guild. To register, you'll need to pay the one-thousand Eris registration fee. Then, you will place your hand on this crystal to have your Adventurer Card created."
She gestured to a crystal ball sitting on the counter. It pulsed with a soft, blue light.
"A thousand Eris? A bit steep for a cover charge, don't you think?" Deadpool said, patting his empty pouches. "Tell you what, how about I put it on a tab? Or we can work something out. I do a little dance, you waive the fee, everyone's happy."
Luna's smile didn't falter, but her eyes hardened slightly. "I'm afraid the fee is non-negotiable. It covers the cost of your card and contributes to the Guild's maintenance fund."
Deadpool sighed dramatically. "Fine, fine. Bureaucracy. The true Demon King of every world." He looked around the rowdy hall. "Okay, new plan. Anyone here willing to stake a fellow professional a thousand Eris? I'll pay you back with interest! Or with the teeth of our first monster! Your choice!"
His proclamation was met with a few chuckles and a lot of people suddenly finding their ale mugs intensely fascinating. No one moved to offer him a loan.
It was then that he noticed him. Sitting alone at a nearby table, nursing a drink, was a young man who looked as out of place as Deadpool did, but for entirely different reasons. He wore a simple green cloak over a tracksuit, a tracksuit, and had an expression of profound, soul-deep weariness. He wasn't a burly warrior or a mysterious rogue. He looked like a kid who'd been dragged on a family camping trip against his will. His eyes met Deadpool's, and for a fleeting moment, there was a spark of recognition. It was the look of two people who know they're the only ones in the room who understand the joke.
Deadpool grinned under his mask. "An Isekai protagonist. I knew it. He's even got the signature tracksuit. That's like the official uniform."
Before he could approach his fellow inter-dimensional traveler, however, a rough-looking brawler with a patchy beard and an ego the size of the building slammed a grimy pouch of coins onto the counter next to him.
"Here," the man grunted. "I'll cover the weirdo's fee. It's worth a thousand Eris just to see what kind of stats a freak like him has."
A small crowd began to gather, their interest piqued. Deadpool scooped up the pouch with a flourish. "Thank you, my large, hirsute benefactor! I shall name my firstborn after you! What was your name again?"
"It's Ruffian," the man grumbled.
"Ruffian Wilson. Has a nice ring to it. Now then, Luna my love, let's do this thing."
He paid the fee and placed his hand on the crystal ball as instructed. It flared to life, shining with an intense, blinding white light that made the entire guild hall go silent. The light swirled and pulsed, changing colors rapidly from blue to gold to a deep, ominous crimson. Luna stared, her professional composure finally cracking as her eyes went wide with shock. The crystal hummed, vibrating so intensely the counter shook.
After a few moments that felt like an eternity, the light died down. A thin, metal card materialized from a slot beneath the crystal with a soft cha-ching.
Luna picked it up with a trembling hand, her eyes scanning the freshly printed text. The blood drained from her face. She looked from the card to Deadpool and back again, her mouth agape.
"What's it say? Did I win?" Deadpool asked, leaning over the counter to get a look. "Am I the chosen one? Do I get a cool title? Like 'The Crimson Cyclone' or 'Sock-Master Prime'?"
"This… this is impossible," Luna whispered, her voice barely audible. The adventurers, including Ruffian and the tracksuit kid, were now crowding around, trying to see what had caused such a reaction.
She held the card out. Deadpool took it.
Name: Wade Wilson Class: [Error: Unclassifiable] (Defaults to Adventurer) Level: 1
Strength: Above Average Vitality: Max Agility: High Intelligence: Unstable Luck: Max Magic: N/A
Skills: [Error: Unclassifiable S-Rank Personal Skill], [Swordsmanship], [Marksmanship], [Fourth Wall Awareness].
The hall erupted into a mess of gasps and shouts.
"Max vitality and luck? At level one?!" "What in the goddess's name is an 'S-Rank Personal Skill'?!" "'Intelligence: Unstable'? What does that even mean?" "And what the hell is 'Fourth Wall Awareness'?! Is that some kind of detection skill?"
Deadpool admired his new card. "Not bad, not bad at all. A little vague on the class, but I like the numbers. 'Unstable' intelligence is a bit harsh, though. I prefer 'creatively flexible'." He turned to Ruffian with a grin. "See? Told you I was a good investment."
Ruffian could only stare, his jaw on the floor. He had paid to mock a weirdo and had instead funded the registration of a statistical demigod.
Deadpool pocketed his card and turned his attention back to the kid in the tracksuit, who was looking at him with an expression that was no longer just weary, but deeply, profoundly troubled. Deadpool sauntered over to his table and slid into the chair opposite him.
"Kazuma Satou, I presume?" Deadpool said casually.
The kid... Kazuma... jumped, his eyes widening in alarm. "How do you know my name?"
"Lucky guess," Deadpool lied smoothly. "You look like a Kazuma. Plus, the tracksuit is a dead giveaway. We're part of a very exclusive club, you and I. The 'Died Stupidly and Got Reincarnated by a Useless Goddess' club. We should get jackets."
Kazuma's face paled. He looked around nervously, as if expecting divine lightning to strike him down. "Who… what are you?" he hissed, leaning across the table.
"I'm the guy who's going to make your life a whole lot more interesting," Deadpool said, leaning back in his chair and putting his feet up on the table. "And probably a lot more dangerous. I saw the look on your face when my stats came up. You get it. You understand that the rules just got thrown out the window. So here's the deal. You look like you know your way around this whole RPG thing. I'm new to the mechanics, but I've got… let's call it 'overwhelming potential'. We should team up."
Kazuma stared at him, his mind clearly racing. He was looking at a being who defied all logic of his new world. A man with maxed-out stats who spoke of their shared, secret origins. This was either a ticket to greatness or a one-way trip to an early, second grave.
"You're insane," Kazuma stated flatly.
"Clinically," Deadpool confirmed with a cheerful nod. "But I'm also unkillable. And I'm willing to bet that's a handy trait to have in a party leader. So, what do you say, partner? Let's go make some money, kill some monsters, and maybe, just maybe, liberate some high-quality legwear from the forces of evil."
Kazuma buried his face in his hands, letting out a long, suffering groan. His peaceful, if pathetic, life as a broke, low-level adventurer was officially over. He didn't know it yet, but he had just met the single greatest source of chaos and fortune his world would ever know.