The streets of Ustina buzzed with life as Krad navigated through the crowd. Players rushed past him, laughing and trading, completely oblivious to the weight he carried. The blue lights of those Pure Slimes still flickered in his mind.
"Alright, Buddy," he said, cracking his knuckles with renewed determination. "Those slimes... they were protecting their home from some jerk mage, right? Well, guess what? I'm gonna find that guy and make him pay for what he did!"
The system remained silent.
"Oh, come on! Don't tell me you're gonna stay quiet now!" Krad pumped his fist in the air, drawing confused looks from passing players. "Those slimes were heroes! And some corrupted mage just waltzed in and turned them into monsters? That's not cool at all!"
Finally, text appeared:
[ The mage is likely long gone by now. Three months is a significant amount of time. ]
"I don't care if it's been three years!" Krad's eyes blazed with the same fierce determination that had carried him through the forest. "Nobody gets to hurt innocent creatures like that and just walk away! I'll track him down, I'll get stronger, and I'll make sure he can't do it again!"
[ That's... admirable. But perhaps focus on surviving first? ]
"Surviving is easy!" Krad grinned, though his eyes still held traces of the tears he'd shed. "I already beat ten corrupted slimes with just my fists! That mage better watch out, because Krad is coming for him!"
His minimap suddenly pinged with a green marker, the potion shop he'd been unconsciously searching for. The sign read "Weakling Shop" in bold letters.
"Weakling Shop?" Krad burst out laughing, his earlier sadness momentarily forgotten. "That's the worst name ever! Who names their shop that?"
He pushed through the door, immediately hit by a wave of herbal scents that made his nose twitch. Shelves upon shelves of colorful potions lined the walls—reds, blues, greens, some even sparkling with what looked like actual starlight.
"Whoa..." Krad's eyes went wide. "This is so cool!"
Behind the counter, an old man with a magnificent crimson beard looked up, his weathered face breaking into a knowing smile.
"Looks like you got yourself in a tough fight, kid," the potion seller said, studying Krad's battered appearance.
"You should see the other guys!" Krad beamed proudly. "Well, they're not really around anymore, but I totally won! It was awesome! Well, not awesome, because they were actually really sad, but the fighting part was awesome, even though---"
"You need a health potion," the old man interrupted gently, clearly used to rambling adventurers.
Krad's enthusiasm dimmed slightly. "Yeah... but I'm kinda broke. Do you have anything cheap? Like, really cheap? But also effective! Cheap and effective!"
The potion seller chuckled, reaching behind the counter. "This is the Quick Potion. Regenerates 40% of your health points instantly."
[ Item: Quick Potion ]
[ Price: 20 Pesos ]
Krad quickly did the math in his head. He'd earned 100 Pesos from the quest, which meant... "I can afford five of these!" His face lit up.
"I'll take one!" He slapped the coins on the counter with perhaps more force than necessary.
The moment the liquid hit his tongue, warmth exploded through his body. It was like drinking sunshine mixed with lightning. His wounds tingled as they closed, and his muscles stopped aching.
[ Health Points: 10_20_30_40_50 ]
"This is amazing!" Krad flexed his arms experimentally. "I feel like I could punch a mountain!"
"Please don't punch any mountains," the potion seller said dryly.
Krad leaned forward, his expression suddenly serious. "Hey, old man... you know about this game, right? Like, really know about it?"
The potion seller's smile faltered for just a heartbeat before returning. "So," he murmured, eyes sharp beneath bushy brows, "you're one of the chosen Slayer, eh?"
"Slayer?" Krad tilted his head. "That sounds way cooler than player. Is that what we're called?"
The old man waved a dismissive hand. "Never mind that. You're just another lost user trying to survive."
"I'm not lost!" Krad protested. "I know exactly where I am! I'm in Ustina, in the Weakling Shop, talking to a guy with a really awesome beard!"
The potion seller sighed, the kind of sigh that suggested he was debating something important. "Look, kid. Whatever brought you here, you're not the first... and you won't be the last. But if you plan to last more than a few days, you'll need more than potions and enthusiasm."
"What do I need?" Krad leaned in eagerly.
"A Squad." The potion seller's tone turned serious. "Strength in numbers, shared resources, specialized roles. It's the only way to survive long-term. Lone wolves don't last."
Krad's eyes sparkled with excitement. "A Squad? Like a team? That sounds awesome! I've always wanted to be part of a team! We could have matching outfits and cool poses and---"
"Kid."
"---and a team name! Something cool like The Fist of Justice or The Slime Avengers or---"
"Kid!"
Krad stopped mid-ramble. "Yeah?"
"It's not a game," the old man said seriously, then paused. "Well, it is a game, but it's not fun and games. Slayers can be more dangerous than monsters. Betrayal, theft, murder... all of it happens out there."
For a moment, Krad's enthusiasm dimmed. He thought about those Pure Slimes again, how they'd been corrupted by someone they'd probably tried to protect. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I'm starting to figure that out."
Then his grin returned, fierce and determined. "But that just means I need to find a good Squad! One that actually cares about helping people, not just getting stronger!"
The potion seller stroked his beard. "At your current level, that won't be easy. Most Squads only accept slayers at Level 20 or higher."
"Level 20?" Krad checked his status. "I'm only Level 2! That's like... eighteen levels away!"
Your math is surprisingly accurate.
The system chimed in.
"And there's another thing," the old man continued. "You'll need a permanent weapon. No Squad will take you seriously without one."
Krad raised his fists, grinning. "Aren't these fists enough? They took down ten Devourer Slimes!"
The shop went completely silent. The potion seller stared at him, mouth slightly open, as if trying to process what he'd just heard.
Then he exploded into laughter. It wasn't a polite chuckle or a restrained laugh—it was a full-bodied, shelf-rattling roar that made a cat sleeping in the corner bolt out the door in terror.
"You... you're serious?" The old man wheezed, clutching his sides. "You fought Devourer Slimes with your bare hands? Kid, this isn't a tavern brawl!"
"What's so funny?" Krad crossed his arms defensively. "It worked! I beat them all! Sure, I used a Power Booster potion, but my fists did most of the work!"
The potion seller wiped tears from his eyes. "Oh, I don't doubt it, kid. But fists? That's like using a wooden spoon to fight a dragon! Sure, you might win, but why would you?"
"Because it's awesome!" Krad declared. "And way cooler than some boring sword! When I punch something, I feel it! It's personal!"
The old man grinned, leaning over the counter. "Alright, tough guy. Let me paint you a picture. What happens when you face a Lava Serpent? You gonna punch lava? Or how about a Titan Crab with armor thicker than castle walls? You think your knuckles will crack that?"
Krad opened his mouth confidently, then paused. The image of trying to punch a crab the size of a house or boxing with a fire-breathing snake made him hesitate. "I mean... I'd figure something out..."
The potion seller laughed even harder. "You're an optimistic one, I'll give you that! Listen, kid. You need a permanent weapon. Something that grows with you, that can be upgraded and enhanced. Your fists are great, but they won't cut it forever."
Krad thought about this, his competitive spirit warring with practical logic. Finally, he sighed. "Okay, fine. Where do I get one of these super special weapons?"
The potion seller pulled out a worn map from behind the counter, spreading it across the surface. His finger tapped a dark region in the corner.
"Here. The Kingdom of Darkness. They're famous for crafting weapons from rare materials, ores and enchanted gems that bond with their wielder. Weapons that grow stronger as you do."
Krad leaned over the map, his minimap automatically updating with the location. The Kingdom of Darkness sat in a remote, shadowy area marked with danger symbols.
"Kingdom of Darkness?" Krad's eyes lit up. "That sounds mysterious and awesome! Is it full of strong monsters? Cool treasures? Secret techniques?"
"It's full of darkness and death," the potion seller said bluntly.
"Perfect!" Krad pumped his fist. "I'll go there, get the strongest weapon they have, level up to 20, and then find that corrupted mage who hurt those slimes! It's a perfect plan!"
Wait, the system interjected. You can't just---
"Thanks, old man!" Krad was already heading for the door. "You've been super helpful! Your beard is really cool, by the way!"
"Kid, wait---"
But Krad spun back, his expression suddenly intense. "That mage. The one who corrupted the slimes. Do you know where he is?"
The potion seller's jovial expression faded. He stroked his beard slowly, thoughtfully. "The corrupted mage... if the rumors are true, he was last seen heading toward the Kingdom of Darkness three months ago."
Krad's eyes blazed with determination. "Then that's definitely where I'm going! He's gonna pay for what he did to those slimes! They were just trying to protect their home, and he turned them into monsters! That's not okay!"
"Be careful who you trust, kid," the potion seller called out as Krad reached the door. "Even in a Squad. Not everyone who smiles at you is a friend."
"Don't worry!" Krad flashed a thumbs up. "I'm a pretty good judge of character! Plus, I've got Buddy to help me out!"
Thank you for the unearned confidence.
As Krad's figure disappeared into the bustling streets, full of energy and determination, the potion seller remained at his counter. His smile faded slowly, replaced by a contemplative frown.
"That kid..." he murmured, steam curling from his forgotten tea. "No beginner should be able to take down ten Devourer Slimes barehanded. Even with a Power Booster, the technique required, the instinct..."
He stroked his beard, eyes distant and calculating.
"Either he's incredibly lucky... or there's something special about him."
The old man glanced at the door one more time, then smiled—a small, knowing smile that suggested he'd seen many slayers come and go, but this one... this one might actually be different.