Alex and Joel made their way through the dense forest. The towering trees loomed above, their branches swaying gently in the breeze.
Yet despite the rustling leaves and occasional distant chirps—it was too quiet.
Joel had been chatty at first, talking about how he had never ventured this deep into the woods.
Then he noticed it too.
It's too quiet… like everything's gone into hiding.
Alex had already killed two boss-level creatures in this forest—the Rat King and the Alpha Wolf.
Either the creatures were avoiding him… or something stronger had appeared.
But Alex didn't think much of it.
He had found what he came for.
The bodies of the wolves—and the Alpha.
The massive corpse of the Alpha Wolf lay sprawled across the forest floor.
Joel's eyes widened in disbelief.
"You… really killed this thing? People in the village have avoided this territory for years. You must be Level 10 by now—with strong skills!"
Alex remained silent.
Then he asked suddenly, "You told me you were Level 5. What are your stats?"
"Strength – 8, Constitution – 8, Dexterity – 7, Speed – 7, Intelligence – 6," Joel answered truthfully.
"What? That's it? You're weak."
"Hey, hey! Everyone is like this! Only people from the city or noble families have better stats. The maximum I've ever heard is 8. That's the normal stat after Initiation! So don't call me weak," Joel protested. It was clearly a sore spot.
He was average. But most people were.
Alex was surprised. His stats were nearly twice that.
Is it because I went through Initiation at 21...? He knelt beside the Alpha Wolf and grabbed it by the scruff of its fur. Joel grabbed another wolf's body.
They needed to move fast—sell the bodies, buy a proper weapon, and prepare for the ruins tonight.
With a pouch of silver now secured at his waist, Alex followed the scent of burning coal and hot metal.
The blacksmith's forge was finally open.
There was the rhythmic sound of steel being hammered, sparks flying with every strike.
He had left Joel behind—hard as it was. The boy wanted to follow him everywhere, but he had a job to return to.
The forge was simple but sturdy, with an open front to let the heat escape. Weapons and armor hung on racks, and an elderly blacksmith with a thick beard and muscular arms worked a glowing piece of steel with precision.
Alex stepped inside.
He had earned 10 silver from selling the animal parts.
The blacksmith glanced at him. "Need something, lad? You look new here. Where're you from?"
"Just passing through. I need a good dagger."
Alex glanced over the displayed weapons. There was a dagger—but it looked old and rusted.
"Oh, dagger, huh? I haven't made any recently. This is a small village. Most people prefer long weapons—keep the beasts at a distance. No one here is skilled enough to get that close." He looked Alex over. "But you… you look strong. I've got a good sword here. Short, but sturdy. Take a look."
The blacksmith turned and pulled a sheathed shortsword from the rack.
He unsheathed it. The blade gleamed in the forge's light.
The craftsmanship was clearly better than Alex's current blade.
And in this world, he had already learned—a good weapon could mean the difference between life and death.
"This one's reforged from the steel of an old knight's blade," the blacksmith said. "It's sturdy and sharp."
Alex held the sword, testing its weight and balance.
It felt good. He needed it. Badly.
"How much?"
"9 silver. I won't take any less."
The blacksmith wiped his hands on a cloth. "The material I built it from was expensive. But it's been sitting here since no one in this village uses a short sword. If I had more material, I would've made a long weapon."
Alex nodded and took the sword with its leather-wrapped sheath.
He handed over 9 silver to the old man and walked out.
It was time to check out the ruins.
He had 1 silver left. Enough for a night's stay—and God knew he was hungry.