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[SP-F01] Scar of the Ordinary | «The First Few Lessons»


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The sun hovered right above Tolbana at noon, it seemed to be tired of shinning already, but still, the light came out through the streets that were lined with market stalls and the people stayed behind with their shopping. Folks are going back and forth between the shops, each of them seeming to be searching for a way to make sense of this bizarre world that they found themselves in; they all had guns on their backs, their armors were shining as if they were real heroes. Jack, however, hasn't been able to convince himself. His curved blade, although it has been well maintained and is still very sharp, is still a mere accessory to him rather than the part of his body.

At the town square, he stopped and looked at the fountain. The ripples that were moving across the water were very beautiful and mesmerizing. In a different life, he would be sitting behind his gaming desk right now, with a drink at his side and his headphones on, fully engrossed in and detached from reality. But this is not a game anymore. There was no logout button. Every step, every word, every swing of his sword was his own. He has not yet come to terms with this fact and it still feels like too much for him to bear.

As he exhaled, he looked at his reflection in the water and said to himself in a sarcastic tone, "The amazing hero, Jack.. Sure." He muttered dryly to himself.

"You there! Stop, please!"

This unexpected call caught him off guard. Jack was turning around to see a fashionably dressed man coming to him directly, his black coat widening a bit with each step. A monocle was shining on one of his eyes, and his perfectly groomed mustache was barely moving but still expressing impatience. Jack on his part, reacted by straightening his body and only looking at the man as if being ready for something, confused whether he should grab his weapon or not.

"Pardon me," the man inserting a sense of formality into his speaking, "I am in need of some assistance, and you appear quite capable."

"Uh.. me?" Jack asked, pointing at himself.

"Yes, you," the main said, already brushing off the hesitation with a dismissive wave. "My name is Dorian, and I am the mayor of this fine town. I issued a small loan to one of our residents some months ago, and now that the time has come to collect.." He trailed off, pressing two fingers against his temple as though the thought itself pained him.

Jack looked at him with one eyebrow raised. "You forgot who you loaned it to, didn't you..?"

Dorian, adjusting the monocle on his eye, sighed deeply, "Most unfortunate of me, very terrible, but I am a man of great busyness and details slip through the cracks." He really meant it when he said that his tone was softening. "Would you be so kind as to finding the person who took the loan? I cannot explain how grateful I would be. Also, if you like, you could keep it confidential."

Jack was a bit uncomfortable with the idea. It was not exactly a heroic thing to do, going after a debt, let alone chasing after someone else's debt. But still, it would keep him busy. It would be a way to ground himself. Perhaps even a way to feel that he was useful.

Maybe, was what Jack thought as he was folding his arms. "I'll look into it."

Dorian's smile was from eat to ear and he looked as if he had been illuminated by a streetlamp of the sun. "Splendid! That's just what I thought. Among other things, you might want to start with Zackariah, the alchemist. He is usually in debt to the town for one thing or another."

"Understood," Jack said with a slight nod.

While Dorian was leaving, cheerful and singing as if nothing had to be done, Jack looked at the fountain once more. The image that was thrown back to him was of the very same tired eyes and unexceptional face but somehow, something was different in his chest.

Maybe this was it. The beginning of something new. The first page in the story of the hero he'd always wanted to be.

***

Spoiler

Scar | HP: 20/20 | EN: 20/20 | DMG: 4

equipment.

  • scimitar. | TIERLESS | ACCURACY, BLEED

skills.

  • curved sword. | RANK 1/5

[WC] 720

Edited by Scar
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The moment Jack reached Zackariah's shop, he was greeted with the pleasant smells of flowers and wood polish. The air was warm from the faint sweet smell of bubbling potions. Every wall was covered with shelves that were full of vials of different colors like green, yellow, and purple. The room was alight with the soft glow of alchemical light that was reflecting the different colors on the shiny counter.

Jack looked around and after a few moments his eyes got used to the dim light of the shop and he came from the brightly lit Tolbana street. It was an old memory of the small game shops that he had in his hometown which were quiet, filled with stuff, and he didn't understand but wanted to.

Behind the counter came the voice “Oh, hello," which seemed to have been interrupted.

Jack shifted a little to see an old man deep in concentration with a cauldron. The man was stirring the contents of a boiling pot that was changing its color to purple. Zackariah's long and snowy-white beard was almost brushing the edge of the pot, and his eyes, though tired, were sparkling with newness.

"Are you here to order something?" the alchemist was asking while getting up with a grunt. "I'm sorry, but I am currently swamped with orders, and I'm running out of supplies."

Jack was scratching his neck with his hand. "Well it was actually the mayor who sent me. He talked about a loan."

The old man stopped for a moment and then laughed. "Leave it to Dorian to forget something so important. But no,I'm afraid it wasn't me that borrowed the col." A twinkle of humor in his eyes, he said that if Jack were a very capable person, then they could both benefit. "While I have you, would you gather a few materials for me? Flowers, herbs, rare woods, whatever you can find outside the city walls. I promise I'll help you fill your order as soon as you return. In fact, I would be willing to show you how to do it yourself."

Jack made an agreement with his own inner voice by slowly nodding his head. "A foraging quest, huh? Sure. I can do that."

"Splendid!" Zackariah turned toward the back of his shop and gestured toward a small pot of of golden, steaming fondue, said the aroma of sweet cream and herbs filling the air. "If not for the hour, then maybe for the road? May latest potion is quite energizing. It might even make you luckier out there."

Jack hesitated only briefly before stepping closer. His stomach growled at the smell, it was warm, comforting, almost nostalgic. With a faint smile, he dipped a small piece of bread into the bubbling mixture and took a bite. The flavor was rich, buttery, and faintly floral, spreading warmth through his body that chased away the chill of uncertainty.

Man this tastes way too real for a game..

He caught himself thinking that and frowned. No, not a game. Not anymore. Every sensation was sharp, alive, real.

"Excellent!" Zackariah said, clapping his hand together. "Now, off you go. The fields beyond the southern gate should have what I need. Bring whatever you find, and I'll see to your reward."

Jack gave a short nod, stepping back toward the door. "Got it. Flowers, herbs, wood. Be back soon."

While he was leaving the shop, the door was creaking as it closed behind him, and the warm smell of the alchemist's brew was slowly disappearing into the crisp and fresh outdoor air. He sighed his breath out, his breath turning into a small vapor in the early afternoon cold.

The land was in front of him, with trees and shining pieces of grass here and there. The ingredients he was after were somewhere out there. It lacked the glamour but it was at least a start, a small footstep into a world that was calling for bravery even from the most ordinary people.

Okay, he thought, holding his sword tighter. Let's see if I really have the guts to do this.

***

Spoiler

Scar consumes Zackariah's Fondue

Scar | HP: 20/20 | EN: 20/20 | DMG: 4 | LD: 3

equipment.

  • scimitar. | TIERLESS | ACCURACY, BLEED

skills.

  • curved sword. | RANK 1/5

[WC] 686

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The lands beyond Tolbana stretched out wide and tranquil, shimmering with green and gold under a mellow afternoon sun. For a few seconds, Jack was completely motionless, sensing only the nature around him. The wind came through the grass as if it were an ancient lullaby, and it also brought the scent of the earth, some wildflowers, and the smoke of the burning woods from the town behind him. With his sword hanging on his back, the scabbard strap was adjusted by Jack, the metal of the blade giving a nice pull to his back which he found quite pleasant. This place, outside, gave him this feeling that he was tiny and at the same time, free of any bonds.

He ventured into the field with one foot in front of the other, his boots grazing the grass of the field that was at least waist-high. In each step grains of pollen were raised and spun about the air in a lazy manner, at the same time, the light falling on them made them look like glittering dust. The game had not yet lost its realism in his eyes, even now, after the whole fright and trauma, he was still taken in by its beauty. The earth seemed.. alive. To the extend that the one he had come from looked dead.

His eyes darted over the plains, looking for something that might be the herbs and materials Zackariah had spoken of. A small bunch of flowers drew his eyes, flowers with yellowish petals curling naturally around skinny stems, the kind of plant that could be used for alchemy. He got down on one knee beside them, and his fingers and thumb fumbled with the earth. The earth felt cool and wet, and when he pulled one of the stems it held back quite strongly.

"Alright," he said quietly, kind of a nervous chuckle in his voice. "Let's see how this works."

He concentrated on the foraging prompt. A small blue system window appeared over the patch, gently brightening and darkening.

[Foraging Attempt: Materials | LD Roll: 9 + 3 = 12]

The dot changed its position one time, tried to change the position twice.. and then went out with a dull sound.

[Foraging Failed.]

Jack let out a breath that was all but a laugh and watch as the flowers turned into grains of light. "Of course that was going to happen." He was rubbing the back of his neck, and at the same time, a little bit of frustration was gnawing at him. "Too slow, too rough. Should've been more careful."

After adjusting his starter gear, the wind caught onto his shirt and pulled it gently. Jack looked toward the furthest land for a moment or two, a plain without end and only broken here and there by some tree or a rock face glimmering far away. The void weighed and pressed on him in some funny manner. It was not of a threatening kind; rather, it was a lonely one. That sort of loneliness which makes you remember you haven't got a party yet, and your friends list is still empty.

"You wanted to do this on your own, didn't you?"

He was reminding himself as he tightened his fist, before lifting himself off the ground. Then go on and show yourself that you can.

His last look at the patch where flowers used to grow was accompanied by a sigh, it was only dirt that was left. The sky was starting to dim slightly, pale orange bleeding into the blue. He'd only been out here for maybe half an hour, but it already felt like a small test of will.

"Alright, that one's on me," he whispered with a slight smile appearing on his face. "Let's call it a warm-up."

Determined, he moved further into the field, softly breaking the dry grass under his foot. There was no meaning in one failure alone. Not in this place. Not yet.

***

Spoiler

foraging.

ID: 255584 | LD: 9 + 3 = 12 | Fail

WC: 659

Edited by Scar
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Jack moved farther into the flats and the grass seemed to get longer and taller with every step. His steps would make rustling sounds as he walked through the grassy land, but the land soon changed nature, it sloped gradually down and at its side, a small wooded area could be seen which was bordered by a stream. The water was shining under the sun, and it was so clear that one could see the pebbles lying on the bed of the stream. There was no sound of human life here except the soft murmur of the stream and the occasional buzzing of insects flying through the reeds.

He looked along the water and was in such deep though that he even pulled water through his hair. His image in the water looked back at him, overly tired eyes, very faint stubble on the face, and a face that was far from the looks of a hero. The first failure was still very fresh and it was still giving him a hard time. He was not thinking of the materials only. It was about the failure itself which told this: Maybe you're not special here either.

"Anyway, it doesn't really matter which world you are in. Average is average," he spoke half to himself.

Nevertheless, he still kept going. The mere thought of meeting Zackariah without anything to show for his trip was eating away at his pride. His eyes wandered over the trees and he saw some pale blue plants growing near the water. The petals of the plants shone faintly indicating that they were made of crystal or light but in reality, they were just extremely rare plants. Maybe they were lying there for quite a long while and no other player had picked them or they were simply a very rare plant.

"Come on, let's do this again," he said and rolled his shoulders before moving nearer.

The malevolent malignant man chose to kneel down beside the shrubs and stretched out his hand in a flick of a second, he remembered the last time when he was so harsh with the plants. His hand was much slower and he thought that the plant could be a little dirt so he gently brushed off the dirt and bits of grass. The system message turned on again and was visible in front of him.

[Foraging Attempt: Materials | LD Roll: 20 + 3 = 23]

The next moment the frame flashed bright and then went along with a soft tone, the location for the small whirlwind of light which also represented the accomplished task. It was a small icon that showed up on his guidance list:

[Materials Acquired x1]

Jack was taken aback, "Wait.. I really did it?"

The smile was half relief and half amusement and the disbelief turned into it. "Well, I guess luck didn't abandon me altogether." He took a leaf and placed it in between his thumb and index finger and watched how the light was breaking up into different colors as it moved through it. He was far from the real thing, the leaf looked delicate, alive, and even had a faint sweet smell.

The first time after he enters Aincrad, he felt that very small spark which in his opinion was the same one, which he used to get when he was a kid and he beat a tough level in a game, not actually the feeling of triumph but very close to it, Maybe I can do this after all.

The air changed and with it, the smell of water and grass came closer to him. He stood up and put the collected materials in a safe place in his inventory pouch. The plains were there again before him, silent, great, and full of opportunities.

"Alright", he said very quietly as if he could not believe it, "That is one. The next will be more."

Jack re-energized with new strength started to walk to the next place and his footsteps were accompanied by the rustling of the tall grass. As he scoured through the endless green, he kept on looking for the next sign of existence of life.

***

Spoiler

foraging.

ID: 255585 | LD: 20 + 3 = 23 | Critical Success!

WC: 693

Edited by Scar
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The wind had grown cooler by the time Jack reached the far side of the grove. The sunlight filtered through drifting clouds now, turning the plains into a patchwork of gold and gray. He moved slower this time, scanning the ground for anything that stood out, anything that could make this little excursion feel more like progress and less like grasping at luck.

The memory of the victory still kept his vein humming in the most delicate manner. The faint sensation of joy from seeing 'Materials Acquired' had triggered some kind of a mechanism in a deep corner of his mind, something that was tiny, delicate, and kept growing. What he felt and what he realized was, he wanted to keep that feeling with him. He definitely needed it. However, the further he went, the more the heavy silence seemed to be closing in on him. The wind caressed his coat, the grass was quietly rustling around his legs and the idea of the unfortunate comeback to the presence of his mind that was definitely not invited was there, That was probably a fluke.

By the time he realized he was down on one knee, Jack was staring at a cluster of red-looking shrubs. The leaves of the plants were sharp-edged and made a glimmer in the sun. "You look like a good bet," he half-spoke, half-muttered by himself, getting ready to pull the plant out. His fingers quivered for a moment while he was extending the hand towards the things, it was not fear, but rather that quiet worried feeling that appears when you start to really want something to turn out well.

Once more the blue system prompt showed up, almost like a test whose result was already known.

[Foraging Attempt: Materials | LD Roll: 10 + 3 = 13]

The window pulsed faintly, then faded with a dull, unimpressed chime.

[Foraging Failed]

Jack brought a hand down his face in a gesture of despair, and a low groan escaped his lips, "Of Course. Why wouldn't it?" Nearby, he let himself fall with the wooden long grass rubbing against his boots and a rock supporting his back. The upset was not that he felt it intensely, it was an old, dull, and that kind of feeling which is the echo of a feeling you have had too many times already.

Looking at his bare hands, he counted the one of the three attempts which was successful. If this had been a real MMO, the situation would have been fine, RNG, bad rolls, no world-shattering consequences. Nevertheless, it affected him very differently in this case. There is no way for him to just laugh or to restart this game. Each of his minor failures weighs heavier, as if it keeps telling the same old thing that he has tried so much to get away from. You're not a special one, Jack. Simply average.

He clenched his fist, fingers digging into his palm. "No," he said quietly, shaking his head. "Not this time."

The wind stirred again, carrying the scent of damp soil and faint sweetness from the blue petals he'd found earlier. He looked toward the horizon, Tolbana's distant walls still visible beyond the rolling plains. His breath came out in a steady sigh.

"Two misses, one hit," he mumbled, rising to his feet. "It is still something."

After wiping the dirt off his jacket, he fixed the belt of his sword. The slight clatter from his inventory was the only sound to remind him that he was not going back empty-handed. Not a good lot, of course, but it was enough for him not to lower his eyes if ever he faced Zackariah.

The sun peeked through the clouds again as he was making his way back to the city turning the fields in a dim, golden haze. The wind brought the very faint sound of living from a far place, the earth breathing, waiting.

Jack exhaled, steadying his steps. "Let's go see if this is good enough."

***

Spoiler

foraging.

ID: 255586 | LD: 10 + 3 = 13 | Fail

WC: 667

Edited by Scar
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Herbs and simmering liquid filled the workshop with their aroma as Jack came back to Zackariah's workshop. After the fresh cold air, the warmth was really good to his body. In the dim light of the candle, glass bottles looked more attractive, and the quietness of the room was broken by the sound of the bubbling of the cauldron. The alchemist raised his eyes from the bench, and the smile appeared on his face as the wrinkles around his eyes deepened with Jack's approach.

Zackariah with a tone of gentle teasing patience said, "Back already, are you? I'd like to see what nature brought you."

Jack opened his satchel and spilled the earth from his satchel onto the counter a handful of bruised herbs, some half-dried blossoms, and pieces of brittle wood. Not at all impressive. His hands were down and he looked at the ground. "Not much," he said. "I think the land is still miffed with me."

Zackariah laughed, looking at the pieces that lie in front of him one by one with a touch of reverence. "Nature is your most unreliable friend. She gives her best to those who are persistent rather than lucky. Nevertheless, these will do."

Jack look at the humbled heap of things. "It's something, I suppose."

"Something is very often enough at the beginning," the alchemist answered with a smile. He was changing his mind when he was searching the shelf which was full of different colored bottles and he found one bottle filled with a liquid that looked ruddy-colored that looks like it came out of an apprentice alchemy class. "Here," he said, giving it to him. "A small token of thanks and my own special draught."

Jack looked confused. "A potion?"

Zackariah corrected him, "A draught," with a little glow of pride in his eyes. "It helps to regain lost strength and can calm the most anxious heart in times of danger. But, it doesn't make you invincible, rather, it should give you a fighting chance when the world pushes back."

Jack took the bottle with great care and was watching the liquid moving from one side of the flask to the other. "I supposed, I'll have to take it."

"Definitely," was Zackariah's answer. After wiping his hands with the apron, he leaned on the counter. "If you want to find more ways to be of use, there is a man worth your time, Lyle the Blacksmith. A stubborn old fellow. He lives near the southern edge of town, where the smoke from the forge never rises."

Jack lifted his eyebrow. "You're sending me to yet another old man?"

It was a loud laugh that he got as a response. "Perhaps. Dorian White, though the mayor, would have you believe everyone in this town owes him." Zackariah's smile softened. "Still, Lyle's a good man beneath the soot and grumbling. You might learn something useful from him, if he doesn't bite your head off first."

Jack tucked the draught into his pouch, nodding. "Sounds like I'll fit right in, then."

"Don't sell yourself short, lad," Zackariah said. "There's more to being a hero than skill with a blade. Sometimes, it starts with showing up at all."

The alchemist's words lingered as Jack stepped outside. The cold air hit his face, sharp and bracing, carrying the faint scent of smoke from the forge's beyond. He adjusted his grip on his sword and looked down the cobbled street toward where the rhythmic clang of metal echoed faintly in the distance.

A new task, another chance. Maybe small, but still a chance.

"Alright," he murmured under his breath, tightening his coat. "Let's see what the blacksmith has to say."

WC: 614

Edited by Scar
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The roads seemed muffled to him. There wasn't much noise other than the peaceful conversation of merchants far away and the steady sound of a horse walking in the street. Jack kept walking along the pavement with his boots making a noise of rhythmic double steps. His hand went and his fingers hugged the vial that Zackariah the alchemist had given him; feeling its faint warmth through the fabric of his coat.

A bit of ironic smile crossed his lips. "My first adventure and I'm already running errands between old men," he said to himself. He found some consolation in the repetitive nature of it, easy and straightforward tasks, no corporate meetings, no boards of account. Only the work, and if lucky, some tangible, for once, results.

He let out a long breath and saw it leaving his mouth as vapor. Now, the chilly air laughed a little bit of smoke and oil in its face. He must be quite near. His hand contacting the sword handle, he was somewhat comforted and at the same time, the sword was useless-being it was still hanging on the place. The truth that he was worried about freezing at the moment of action was inside of him.

"Come on, Jack, Get a grip," the words were uttered under his breath. "Just a game, Jack" Nevertheless, he didn't believe them. He could almost feel the scents and the air of Zackariah's shop. "Games didn't feel like this."

It was the sound of metal meeting metal that answered his questions before he could could even get to the forge. The noise was crisp, punctual, and coincided the theme of labor. With each step towards the source of the noise, the heat became more and more perceptible and the ripples in the air were the only means through which he could see the hot breath of the roaring fire. The tiny bright spots that were produced by the grinding of metal to metal looked like fireflies and they were playing in the dark.

There was a man at the anvil, a hammer in his fist, busily. The man was operating methodically, rhythmic and practiced, the same precise deliberate maneuvers Jack would usually associate with a person that had mastered its craft. The blacksmith was white-haired and his body was still robust and strong despite his old age; however, in contrast to the kind face of Zackariah, the blacksmith's face was as unyielding as a rock. There was only a short glance which the man gave Jack on entering the place, followed by his eyes immersing again into his work.

"I'm busy," was the answer given by the man in a short and abrupt tone, without even losing his tempo. 

Jack was in a dilemma and he was not sure on how to proceed with the conversation. "Ah, right. You must be Lyle. Zackariah sent me-"

Midway through the swing a frail hand was raised, stopping the motion. "Don't care who sent you," Lyle said in a very angry manner. "I don't do charity work and I don't do favors." were his next words.

Jack looked perplexed and shifted his weight from one foot to another. "He said if you need help with anything. I'm not here to-"

"I said I am busy, boy." The hammer hit the metal again with a very loud sound, and the space between them was filled with the echo. Lyle, with the help of his movements, dropping the tool he was using and turning his face towards Jack, with a look of suspicion, says, "If you want something from me then work for it."

The elder was pointing with his hand towards the farmlands after the southern gate. "There are Boarlets that have been wrecking my supply routes again. They are weak little beasts, but still, they are relentless. Take care of them, bring me their tusks if that's all you can manage, or the boars if you have the strength to do so. Then, only then, I'll listen to you."

Jack blinked. "Boarlets?"

"Are you deaf?" Lyle grunted, not even looking at him, "They might be small, but they are also fast. Shouldn't be too hard even if you are inexperienced."

The blacksmith picked up a sleek and shiny blade from the rack near him and threw it at Jack with impressive precision. Jack caught it just in time with his hand, the blade's weight was pulling his wrist.

"Perfection," Lyle said, short and sweet. "I trust you would be able to land your strikes much easier. The blades of my weapon hit a little harder than your standard equipment. You can borrow it. Don't scratch it."

Before Jack could say a word, a small and soft thing flew at his chest, a cloth pouch. "Tranquilizer Truffles," Lyle said. "Boarlets love them. Give one a bite and they'll be sleeping, if you're lucky. It doesn't work all the time. You'll need to get close, though. They'll get angry before they get tired."

Jack placed the two new items he has received into his inventory, giving a silent agreement with his head. "Alright.. get rid of the boarlets, bring back tusks or bodies. Got it."

"Good," Lyle replied using only one word. "Try not to die. I don't have time to make your coffin."

The hammer came down again, this time it was the final and firm one. The chat was over.

Jack stayed for a bit, looking at how the old man was getting back to his work. The rhythmic clang was heard once more, and the hot iron's smell was burning mildly in his throat. Weapon's reassuring weight in his hand was what he felt as he moved back into the street.

Another quest, Another test. Maybe this time, he would turn out to be more than just average.

He smiled slightly to himself and as he was leaving, the forge fading behind him, he said in a low voice, "Let's see if I can make this count."

***

Spoiler

Scar receives T1 Perfect Curved Sword, Bag of Tranquilizer Truffles

Scar | HP: 20/20 | EN: 20/20 | DMG: 5 | ACC: 2

equipment.

  • falchion. | TIER 1 | DMG, ACC 2

battle ready inventory.

  • Tranquilizer Truffles

WC: 999

Edited by Scar
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At the door of the forge, he was standing, hearing the street commotion which was no turned down to a distant, indifferent hum. The fire burning in Lyle's hearth was already radiating less in his mind and only the memory of sparks and the rhythmic hitting of hammer on metal was left. Jack wrapped his hand around the handle at this waist, feeling the leather which was there, not his, but good and reliable in its own rough way. He took his breath in slowly, the cold of Tolbana's air entering his lungs, and tried to calm down the nerves in his stomach.

You've got this, Jack. Just.. steady hands. Don't think of failing.

The thought came like a mantra, more to his own worrying than to be persuaded by the world. He was not a fighter; he had never pretended to be. But now he had a weapon and a plan, fragile, cautious, but still a plan. That was better than being afraid.

With a practiced motion he pulled the curved sword out of the sheath, the metal barely making a sound. The sword felt balanced in his hand in a way his standard sword wasn't; a little bit heavier towards the tip, a firmness that made him trust its curve even before the first blow. He loosened his wrist, letting the weight take its place. A blade that has quite the reach. I don't see myself missing that often. The sharpness of the blade can slice through those Boarlets with ease, he thought. These figures were simple and useful, small advantages that could turn a supposedly clumsy blow into a precise one.

Jack shut his eyes momentarily and simulated the movement by running the flat of the blade through the air. The metal made a cutting sound; for a moment, the world focused only on the hand, the blade, and the breath. He grinned, a rigid thing that was loosened a bit. The weapon seemed to "like" the user, as if it were made to be so. He brought the tip to the ground and then placed it back in the sheath with care. That also was a ritual, honor for the instrument, honor for what it may require of him.

From his pack, he took out the cloth pouch Like had thrown him: the Bag of Tranquilizer Truffles. He rested the small pouch on his palm, feeling the rough weave, counting the tiny hidden promises inside. If he could get close enough to one of the boarlets and make it bite, then a sedated beast would be easier to handle and the tusk would be saved. The truffle was not a guarantee; Lyle had been clear on that. Doesn't always work. They'll get angry before they get tired. He could practically hear the blacksmith's gravel voice repeating the warning.

The plan was simple and cautious, as it had been arranged. Sneak in, use a truffle to calm a wild animal if possible, and if the animal doesn't go quiet, fight and kill it. Three boarlets, tusks or carcasses, and then back to the forge. No glory, no drama. Just results.

He looked at his stance and changed the position of his foot. The usual starter gear was fitted to his body, the breastplate was cold but not heavy, the leather boots still in the process of being broken in. What matter was the next step: going beyond the gate, stepping into the fields, and carrying out the small, exact plan he had made for himself.

Jack swallowed his pride and his throat felt dry. Anxiety was there beneath the surface, the small voice that thought the luck wouldn't last. You had one lucky gather. Don't let it be the only thing you can hang on. He gripped the hilt tighter and with Lyle's weapon in a slow, deliberate action. Aim for precision, not power. Truffles ready, use carefully.. Keep distance when needed.

He exhaled and slotted the truffle pouch back into his inventory, fingers brushing the warm glass of Zackriah's draught tucked beside it. Let it be the last resort, the thing to swallow when everything else failed. For now, there was a simpler challenge: three boarlets between him and Lyle's nod of grudging approval.

With the borrowed sword hanging at his side like both a promise and a power, Jack moved away from the forge. Before him, the plains' gate was wide open, pale, and inviting, and the grasses beyond were swaying in a carefree wind. He went up to it with shoulders a little more than before, humility still there under his quiet determination.

"Alright" he said to the empty street, first in a whisper and then louder, as if to support himself, "Let's make this count."

***

WC: 792

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The plains of Tolbana looked just like a golden and green sea to him. The tall grass was moving with the wind. The sun rays were coming through the clouds that were thin and were scattering the warm patches here and there in the field. Jack was walking slowly, one step after another. His boots were touching the ground. The grass was making a noise and it seemed as if the grass was tearing. The silence was making him uncomfortable, the silence was not absolute but it was that sort of quiet which gives you a sensation of being looked at.

He had knowledge about boarlets from the materials that were left behind by the other players, starter mobs, basic enemies, the kind players farmed for materials in the early days of Aincrad. Weak, they said. Predictable, they said. But standing out here, feeling the weight of the air and the crisp tension that came before combat, none of it felt weak. Every sound prickled his nerves like static.

"There," he uttered to himself. He also lowered his body a little bit. A mound of grass in front of him looked as if it changed its shape and the movement was so clear that it could not be attributed to the wind. The faint grunt follow the movement and that was indeed the confirmation of it, a pretty small and brown-furred boarlet was rummaging in the forest floor with its short tusks that were helping it in pushing not only the wood but even the roots of a kind of flower. Its ears twitched, and the tail was moving at a low speed and seemingly simple.

Jack's heart was beating faster. Alright, Jack. Keep calm. Just like you had it figured out. If you can, do not fight. He took off the small pouch that was in his inventory and opened it a little bit. The truffles were round and sweet-smelling a little bit, the surface of which was slightly shining with that strange in-game thing that made them tranquilizing in nature. One he took between his fingers and rest it in his hand. The smell had a little bit of honey and something herbal mixed in it, something that was almost good enough to taste it yourself.

"It seems to me it is dinner time," he talked with himself quietly.

Very quietly and with the lowest possible movement of the body, he shortened the distance between them by one step after another. The grass was moving against his coat and the words it spoke were very quiet. His boots were marking the soil with very quiet means. The boartlet's small body again moved a little. It turned and grunted while doing so. Its nose took in the smell and also its face was wrinkled and stretched. Beady eyes for a very short time looked at him. Jack did not move even an inch. His heart was beating at a high pace.

Do not scare it. Do not hurry it.

By the time he was about to do so, he was crouching and just enough arm length, he made a gentle underhanded throw of the truffle. The sound of the thud was the faintest one, and the place where it came in contact with the earth was near to the animal's snout. After a moment of amazement, the boarlet opened and close one eye. It exhaled from the nose and detected it once.. twice. Then however, if its eagerness for the thing was more than that for the safety, it took a small bite.

Few moments came and went that seemed to be very long.

Jack prepared himself to fight with his hand holding the sword at his side should the worst come to pass. Unexpectedly, the animal did not charge at him, and the truffle was not a failure. Rather, the boarlet's tail was moved one more time and then the little thing that was on its stubby legs wobbled, fell down and then curled up in the grass with a soft, drowsy grunt. The little one's breathing made the rib cage going up and down gently.

***

Scar | HP: 20/20 | EN: 20/20 | DMG: 5 | ACC: 2

Boarlet | HP: 5/5 | DMG: 3

Spoiler

battling.

ID: 255689| BD: 10 | Major Critical Hit!

 

Edited by Scar
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