Book 1 Chapter 18 A Deathmatch
…
The morning sun, filtered through a thick canopy of ancient trees, cast dappled shadows onto the worn, dusty road leading out of Slow Turtle Town. At the town gate, a group of twenty or so souls had gathered, their collective mood a nervous blend of misplaced bravado and genuine fear.
Leading the main contingent were eight Town Guards—men whose primary experience with violence involved breaking up bar fights or chasing stray goats. The remaining fifteen were an assortment of 'volunteers': merchants whose interests lay in avoiding the mayor's ire, farmers who had drawn the short straw, and one particularly pale blacksmith who kept checking the tightness of his own helmet.
And then there was Han Rowan, the man upon whom all their hopes were silently, desperately pinned.
Rowan was dressed in a simple traveler's robe, the collar slightly too high, concealing the mysterious vest armor (+2 defense) he wore beneath. He walked with a phlegmatic, almost bored air, his eyes fixed on a specific, invisible point just above the head of the lead guard. He wasn't meditating on the danger ahead; he was checking his inventory.
Equipped Bag (Sackcloth, 2x3):Thorn (1x1)Thorn (1x1)Springwater Vial (1x1)Equipped Accessory (Travel Bag, 2x2):Stone Knife (1x2)Wooden Sword (1x2)
"Right then, everyone!" boomed a beefy guard captain named Gong, whose polished breastplate was far cleaner than it had any right to be. "We follow the creek line. I suspect that that's where the Mayor's children, young Hana and Hajin, and their expedition team would be. We move slowly and stay vigilant. The woods here are deep, and the beasts are… lively."
Everyone nodded their heads, with Rowan who merely nodded, not breaking his inventory-check trance.
Lively, he thought, internally snorting. They're Level 1 mobs. And I, a man whose body is only barely resisting being shredded by a cotton robe, am stuck babysitting more than twenty high-HP, low-damage cannon fodder characters.
He sighed, a silent, internal sigh of a man who knew he was overqualified for the mission's complexity but drastically under-leveled for the territory's actual threats. His Level 2 status was a joke against the real dangers of this world, the kind of dangers he himself had experienced while traveling a few months ago before reaching the town.
"Remember, the goal is reconnaissance, not battle," Captain Gong continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, though he was practically shouting it. "But if we are engaged, remember that we have Mister Han. Those… things he is carrying are our lifeline." Captain Gong's gaze landed on Rowan, who was silent on the side.
Rowan almost choked on his own phlegm. This guy is pushing him to the limelight. "What is wrong with this fellow? I did not offend him, right?" This is what Rowan was thinking while knitting his brow, looking at Captain Gong.
Yes, he is their lifeline and their hope of not dying, but that would come later. Did they think that his Healing Salves were for him to flaunt? That was the collective euphemism for his Springwater Vial, a consumable item that magically refilled after twenty seconds outside of battle and was currently slotted next to two Thorns he now owned. It was a glorified, automatic First-Aid Kit. He has used it to create the healing salves, but the salves are not unlimited.
Rowan could only shake his head as he knew he could not be bothered to go with that fellow's mindset. He will help in his own way and not by the words of another.
…
They plunged into the thicket. The first day was tedious: the rustling of leaves, the constant complaints from the merchants, and the utter lack of wild beast encounters. It actually made this group of people feel a sense of peace in the middle of their uncomfortable situation.
Meanwhile, Rowan was contemplating how he would get something on this trip. His thoughts soon drifted to the possible battles in the future. He knew that the sackcloth would react when his life was in danger. With this thought, his eyes landed on the armed guards and the farmers within the group. The merchants, on the other hand, were there to provide sustenance and not security, so he did not even bother them.
"Should I knock these people out when battle starts… That way I could get EXP and some Thorns," he thought.
The idea was plausible and possibly exciting, but Rowan shook his head as there would be repercussions in the end.
"If I don't personally finish off the target, I get zero experience," Rowan muttered to himself, kicking a dry pinecone. "Zero. It's an incentive system designed by a madman. And I have to keep the 'volunteers' alive, which means I can't let my weapons engage the enemy at full throttle, or they'll think I'm some kind of demon lord."
The situation is truly complicated, as Rowan wanted to gain something in this trip without showing his own prowess to these… mortals.
…
The sun was mid-sky on the first day when the first minor threat materialized. It wasn't fierce or demonic, just a particularly large, territorial Wild Boar that had decided the guards' rations looked appealing.
The beast burst from the ferns, tusks glinting. The guards, bless their mortal hearts, immediately raised a terrifying clamor. They screamed, they flapped, and they managed to form a vaguely defensive semi-circle that quickly devolved into a chaotic, flailing mob of spears and farm tools.
Rowan, far more concerned with the system prompt, stood slightly behind a particularly large, shaking farmer, bracing himself.
However, Rowan was surprised that the system did not start its notification. It seems quiet for some mysterious reason. "Come on! What is happening with you!" Rowan cried, but nothing still appeared.
He could only look at the floating grid in front of his eyes, silent and quite calm. "Why is this sackcloth for murder well-behaved this time?" Rowan thought with a deep frown.
Rowan watched as the boar, unimpressed by the flurry of poorly aimed attacks, gored the thigh of a young guard named Feng. Feng let out a yelp that could curdle milk.
Rowan wanted to move, but he hesitated as he could not expose his prowess yet. He wanted to be the hero who would save the day… or so he thought.
But the real reason why he did not move is that he could tell that these guards could actually kill this wild boar, but instead, they were playing with it.
"What are they doing?" Rowan thought as he quickly walked behind another shivering farmer who could not even hold his pitchfork properly.
Suddenly, Rowan noticed a glint in the eyes of a guard and knew that those fellows were using this chance to train the weak farmers and merchants. Realizing this in mind, he did not even bother anymore and quickly walked back to the group behind.
He began taking out one medicine after another. He knew that after this, he would be called to help those who got wounded.
It did not take long before Rowan noticed something happening in the battle.
The boar, suddenly dizzy, staggered—not because of the hit, but because a very confused Captain Gong finally managed to land a proper spear thrust into its side, killing it.
System Notification:Wild Boar (Normal Beast) defeated.
Experience Gained: 0 EXP.
Zero. Absolutely zero experience. Rowan mentally sighed as he knew this would happen with him not doing anything.
Guard Feng was bleeding freely from his leg. Captain Gong looked panicked.
"Mister Han! Please help!"
Rowan walked over with the practiced casualness of a man retrieving a remote control. He reached for the prepared bandage in his hand.
"It's nothing," Rowan said, preparing the salve in his hand along with the cloth bandage. "Hold still, Guard Feng. This wound will heal in no time."
Rowan cleaned the wound first, which caused the guard to shout out in pain. Then he slapped the wound with the bandage already applied with the salve.
Pa!
Guard Feng's eyes widened, and he could only glare at Rowan.
"Is this Rowan fellow really reliable?" Captain Gong could only ask himself with doubt.
But Rowan did not mind as he did what he was supposed to do in this team.
Suddenly, the expression on Guard Feng's face turned weird as he felt something from his wound.
"What is happening? I feel weird?" he muttered.
He wanted to take off the bandage, but Rowan hit his hand. "Do not touch…" he said while lifting one of his brows.
However, Guard Feng knew that something was not right as he could feel the pain had already vanished.
Guard Feng stared at his leg, then at Rowan, his face a mask of religious awe. "It... it vanished! By the heavens, what is this, Master Han! The pain is all gone!"
Rowan did not bother to reply as he stood up and proudly walked towards another patient.
Of course, he is proud of himself; how could he not when he was able to heal such wounds in just a matter of minutes? It was truly a miraculous thing. But he could not let Guard Feng see his leg. If that fellow knew that his wound would have already scabbed at this time, then Rowan's trouble would be endless.
However, what Rowan did not know was that his actions and the effect of the salve alone had already gained him a few devotees in the group.
Those people could see a humble young man who carried a salve that defied the laws of nature. The story of the "Miraculous Salve of Master Han" instantly became the highlight of the team, morale instantly soaring far beyond the rational level of twenty-plus men deep in a hostile forest.
…
For the next two days, the pattern repeated, becoming a tedious loop of low-level skirmishes and overblown gratitude.
Day Two. Midday. A pack of Mountain Wolves jumped them.
One guard took a nasty bite to the arm. Rowan used the Healing salve. Cue the tearful, over-the-top gratitude.
Rowan used an external bandage to cover the miraculous healing, just to avoid more awkward questions about why his 'balm' left only a scar.
Day Two. Evening. A giant Forest Bear ambled by.
This time, the fight was slightly harder, with two guards taking critical damage before Rowan allowed his Stone Knife (Damage 2-4) to finish the job."Damage Report: Stone Knife hits Forest Bear's Body (HP: 2/2/1/2/1/2). Damage: -3 HP. Bear Dies."System Notification:Forest Bear (Normal Beast) defeated. Experience Gained: 1 EXP. Finally! A whole one point of experience for saving twenty-three lives! Only hundreds more EXP points to go. Rowan felt profound injustice.
The 'volunteers' were exhausted but energized by the low casualty survival rate. They trusted Rowan implicitly. They were two days deeper into the woods, following intermittent signs of a struggle that suggested the mayor's children's expedition was either wildly incompetent or had run into something truly terrifying. Given their experience, Rowan leaned toward the latter.
…
It was late on the third day. The air had grown heavy, thick with the scent of ozone and copper. They were in a dark, humid hollow, massive ancient trees looming over them like silent judges.
Captain Gong halted the group with a sharp, whispered command, his face drained of all color. Every man immediately dropped into a low crouch, despite the ground being covered in stinging nettles. Rowan, seeing the guards' reaction, also paused, checking his surroundings.
He didn't need to check long.
A sound like two mountains colliding tore through the woods. The ground trembled violently, sending a wave of dust and leaves billowing toward them. Then came a primal, furious roar, deep enough to resonate in the chest cavity, followed by a hissing sound like a thousand teakettles at once.
Through the dense foliage, Rowan could see an area of utter devastation. Trees the size of houses were not merely broken; they were splintered and pulverized, scattered around a clearing that pulsed with furious energy.
And in that clearing, the actual owners of this terrifying domain were disagreeing.
One creature was a spectacle of raw, muscled power: a giant feline, a Red Panther, the size of a farmer's bull, its coat the color of dried, furious blood. It moved with impossible speed, a blur of crimson and rage.
The second was a serpentine horror: a colossal snake, the girth of a grown tree trunk, dark emerald and scaled like obsidian. It was currently coiled around the fractured trunk of an enormous oak, its head as large as a man, swaying like a scythe.