A Village Encounter
Mo's system chimed, providing him with his updated status. He distributed his newly acquired stat point to Speed, boosting it to 9, and his skill point to Devil's Grin, reducing its cooldown time by 10 seconds.
Meanwhile, in his office, the village head, a burly white-haired man with a thick beard, sensed a familiar energy surge emanating from the guard post. He knew that feeling well – it was the mark of a tattooed warrior leveling up.
"William!" he bellowed.
"Yes, village head?" a voice responded from outside.
"Go to the guard post and see if Randy has leveled up. Report back to me immediately!" the village head commanded, a hint of envy in his voice.
At the guard post, Mo examined the dissipating remains of the guard's spear, realizing that this was the fate of a tattooed warrior upon death. He discreetly dragged the body away, avoiding the prying eyes of the villagers, before disposing of it in the sea.
Back in the village, Mo explored the streets, taking in the sights and sounds of Sea Breeze. This small, coastal village was nestled against a lush forest that bordered the village head's residence, strategically chosen for protection against wild beasts.
Mo played with the 5 Tats coins he had acquired, his total now reaching 20. He spotted a bakery with a display of fresh bread, reminiscent of modern bakeries on Earth. With a smile, he approached the counter.
"Hello, young man," greeted the middle-aged woman behind the counter, her smile warm despite Mo's ragged clothing. "What can I get you?"
"How much are these breads? Are they freshly baked?" Mo asked, pointing to a selection on display.
"Yes, they are! They're our best-sellers, so they're always fresh. Each one is 5 Tats coins."
"I'll take two, please," Mo replied.
The woman began preparing Mo's order, a nervous tremor running through her as a loud voice boomed from the entrance.
"Kana! Pack all these breads for me! I'm taking them as a gift for my father! Move it! Don't waste my time!"
Mo turned to face the source of the voice. A young man in his late teens entered the bakery, riding a curious wooden vehicle resembling a bicycle. He was slim and well-built, with white hair that marked him as the son of the village head.
Kana, the baker, trembled under the young man's demands, her voice barely above a whisper as she agreed. She glanced apologetically at Mo, acknowledging his presence and the interruption.
Mo, ever observant, understood the situation. He recognized the power dynamics at play and the young man's privileged position. He also found himself intrigued by the wooden vehicle, a reminder that this world, while medieval, possessed its own unique technologies.
Lost in thought, Mo didn't notice the young man turn his attention to him. The son of the village head, accustomed to getting his way, scowled.
"Shoo! I'm buying everything here! Get out! No more bread for a beggar like you! Shoo!" he barked.
Mo's eyes hardened as the young man's words reached him. He looked up, a cold glint flashing in his blue eyes. The encounter was about to take an unexpected turn...
##
At the guard post, William arrived, the village head's message echoing in his ears. "Randy!" he called out, anticipation building with each unanswered word.
Pounding on the door, William's frustration grew with each passing moment. Finally, he lost patience and kicked the door open.
A chilling silence greeted him. Then, a pool of blood caught his eye. His blood ran cold as he recognized its source.
Activating his "Guard's Sword" skill, the common sword materialized in his hand, its gray aura shimmering in the dim light.
Following the trail of blood, William's heart sank as he saw a body floating in the water. It was Randy, bloated and lifeless.
Fury and fear consumed William. He retrieved Randy's body, the stolen pouch confirming his worst suspicions.
With a heavy heart, he rushed to the village head's office, the weight of his discovery pressing down on him.
Meanwhile, at Kana's Bakery, tension crackled in the air. Mo's unwavering gaze met the young master's, a silent duel of wills.
Glenn, accustomed to obedience, unleashed a torrent of threats, fueled by his inflated ego. But Mo remained unfazed, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to the young master's bluster.
Seeing the boy's composure, Kana stepped in, her calm voice diffusing the situation. "He doesn't know any better," she pleaded with Glenn, offering him the packed bread as an appeasement.
Glenn, appeased by her words and the prospect of leaving, snatched the bread and sped away, leaving behind a lingering sense of unease.
As Mo savored the bread, Kana observed him with a newfound curiosity. His calm demeanor and piercing blue eyes left a deep impression.
"He isn't a bad person," she explained, her smile genuine. "He only acts like that once a week, and not for himself."
She then revealed the reason for his actions, her voice soft. "He collects food for the village's poor children, a hidden kindness beneath his harsh exterior."
Intrigued, Mo introduced himself. "Mo Hardinger," he said, his voice low and steady.
Kana, in turn, revealed her name, "Kana Leaf." As Mo took a bite of the bread, he noticed her eyes fixed on him, a strange glint in their depths.
Suddenly, a notification flashed in her mind. "Status! Target: Mo Hardinger!"
Kana's smile widened, a hint of something sinister flickering behind it. The air crackled with an unknown energy, a silent undercurrent beneath the seemingly peaceful scene.
Mo, unaware of the hidden danger, finished his bread, his stomach satiated. Yet, with each passing moment, he felt a growing sense of unease, as if he was being watched by unseen eyes.
The encounter at the bakery had revealed a glimpse into Glenn's hidden kindness, but it had also exposed a darker secret, one that threatened to engulf Mo in its web of intrigue and danger.
The stage was set for a confrontation, a clash of wills that would lay bare the true nature of those around him. As Mo walked away from the bakery, he knew that this was only the beginning of his journey, a journey into the heart of darkness and the secrets it held.