That night, Patch fell asleep very quickly. He didn't feel bad about being stuck in this new world—after all, how could he miss something he didn't remember?
When he woke up, he was assaulted by the smell of breakfast.
He left his room and found that, despite how cheap the room had been, it came with food. Nothing fancy—just eggs, bread, some fruit, and a bit of tea—but it was hot and waiting for him.
Delva, the innkeeper, brought the food out with a nod and then left without asking any questions. Patch appreciated that. No small talk, no suspicion. Just quiet.
He scarfed the food down quickly, making a mental note of the bland taste, and pulled up his status.
> [SYSTEM ALERT]
> Status: Health – Stable
> Unlocked Forms: None
> Available Mission(s):
> ▸ Initiate: Turn in a bounty worth ≥ 10,000 Beli.
First things first, Patch thought, I need a weapon.
He made his way to the nearest weapons store, a small, no-nonsense shop with little decoration. After a short back-and-forth with the shopkeeper, he was shown a used flintlock pistol priced at 500 beli. The gun looked old but intact. It came with three bullets and a worn leather holster.
Patch left the shop empty-handed for now. First, he needed to make the money.
He asked around, and most people told him to check with the clerk in the library. Apparently, that's where the job postings were kept.
Inside the library, he found the board—dozens of slips pinned to it, each one offering a small reward for some tedious task. He picked one at random and followed the instructions.
His first job of the day: help move cut logs from the nearby logging site to a construction site closer to town.
It was straightforward, if exhausting. The logs were thick, the sun was hot, and the foreman didn't do much besides yell. Still, Patch got the job done in just under an hour and walked away with 200 beli.
Back at the library, he picked up another job. This one had him delivering a letter to someone in Brimshore.
He grabbed a bite to eat at a small food stall—a fish sandwich and a warm cup of broth—then set off.
The road to Brimshore took about two hours by foot. He passed traveling merchants, a pair of Marines on patrol, and a few fishermen hauling nets back toward town. Nobody paid him much attention.
Brimshore itself was loud and chaotic. Sailors shouted curses from the docks, crates were stacked high on alley corners, and a few shady-looking figures eyed him from behind barrels. The Marines were present, but barely doing anything. Mostly standing around, chatting, arms crossed.
Patch handed the letter to its recipient, collected his reward—another couple hundred beli—and made his way back.
Once in Lunelith, he spent the rest of the afternoon doing a few more odd jobs. Cleaning out a barn, helping a woman re-stack her cellar after a shelf collapsed, and even guiding a blind old man from the square to the chapel. The jobs were dull, but they got him paid.
By the time the sun started dipping below the rooftops, Patch had enough to return to the weapons shop and buy the pistol.
It didn't feel like much in his hands—but it was something. A tool. A start.
He strapped the holster under his shirt and checked the weight of it once.
"It's time to make some real money."
---
At the library, Patch checked the bounty board:
> Name: Remo "Red" Tavish
> Bounty: 1,000 Beli
> Known For: Robbing couriers. Poorly armed. Aggressive.
It was the lowest bounty on the board, and Patch figured it would be the safest option for a first try. He knew it wouldn't fulfill the system's mission, but he needed money—and he needed the experience.
He tapped the poster lightly with two fingers, then turned away.
[System Ping: Target Selected – New Bounty Hunt Initiated]
He'd hunt Remo tomorrow.
---
Bandit POV
Remo was sorting through the haul from this morning. A few coins, a cheap ring, a half-eaten meat bun, and a coin purse he'd swiped from some old lady too slow to fight back.
He was about to sit down by his fire when he dropped the purse.
Muttering a curse, he bent to pick it up—and that's when he heard it.
Snap.
A twig behind him.
"The fu—!?"
He spun around, reaching for his blade, but was cut off as a gunshot rang out. Pain flared in his thigh, and he screamed, collapsing sideways.
Clutching the wound, he drew his cutlass and charged—limping, furious, teeth bared.
The man who shot him tried to reload, but there was no time. Remo swung his blade, missed, but didn't stop. His attacker raised the pistol to block the next blow, slamming the barrel into Remo's hand. Something cracked—bone or gun, didn't matter—pain exploded up his arm.
Then came the fists. A punch to the gut. A jab to the face. A kick to the ribs.
Remo swung wildly. One lucky hit connected—his cutlass grazed the attacker's side, drawing blood. Shallow, but satisfying.
He thought he could take him.
But the man kept going. Punch after punch, hit after hit. Every time Remo got one swing in, he took three in return.
His leg was on fire. His hand throbbed. His chest felt crushed.
He couldn't see straight anymore.
After a final blow to the face, everything went black.
---
After deciding on the bounty, Patch had returned to the inn and slept like a rock. He didn't dream.
In the morning, after breakfast, he headed into the forest to start the hunt.
It took a couple hours, but eventually he picked up a trail—boot prints in the mud, bits of trash, signs of a camp. A thin trail of smoke curled above the treetops.
He moved quietly, careful not to give himself away too early.
Through the trees, he spotted a clearing. A tent. A fire.
And a man with greasy red hair stepping out of the tent holding a coin purse.
Patch crept closer, pistol drawn, breath held.
Just as he raised the weapon, the bandit fumbled the purse and bent down to grab it.
Patch paused. Took one more step forward to adjust his aim—
Snap.
His foot hit a twig.
"What the fu—!?"
Patch fired.
---
The battle was long. Bloody. Sloppy.
Patch didn't have training. He wasn't fast, or strong, or skilled.
But he was desperate.
After the shot hit Remo's thigh, the fight turned into a savage brawl. Remo was fast with his sword, even injured. He slashed Patch's ribs once, shallow but painful. Patch hit back with his fists, elbows, knees—whatever worked.
Remo fought dirty. Patch fought dirtier.
By the end, both of them were bleeding. Remo was on the ground, unconscious, face swollen and bloody.
Patch stood over him, breathing hard.
He stared for a long second, then knelt and reloaded the pistol with shaking hands.
He pressed it to Remo's temple and pulled the trigger.
Bang.
He sat there for a moment in the silence that followed.
No level-up. No loot drop.
Just the sound of birds, fire crackling, and his own heartbeat.
He searched through the camp, found a few coins and some medical supplies. Bandaged himself best he could, then sat on a log to catch his breath.
After thirty minutes, he tied the body up and began the long walk back to town.
---
He ignored the looks he got for dragging a corpse through the streets. Blood stained the cloth. The body left a streak behind it.
He reached the small Marine post and dropped Remo's body on the ground.
The officer behind the desk gave him a once-over. Looked down at the corpse. Then back up.
"Red Tavish," he said flatly. "Guess someone finally got him."
He processed the bounty and handed over a pouch of coins.
> [SYSTEM ALERT]
> Status: Health – Slightly Wounded
> Unlocked Forms: None
> Available Mission(s):
> ▸ Initiate: Turn in a bounty worth ≥ 9,000 Beli.
Patch stared at the screen a moment.
Huh. So smaller bounties still reduce the total. Weird way to phrase it, but okay.
---
Before heading back to the inn, Patch stopped at a clothing store and bought something clean. His current outfit was a mess of blood, tears, and dirt. He needed a reset.
Back in his room, he showered, scrubbed his skin raw, and wrapped new bandages around his side.
Then, finally, he laid down.
He checked his status one last time.
And smiled.
"One step closer," he said softly.
Then he slept.