Kana quickly smoothed her face, the murderous yellow glint in her eyes vanishing behind a mask of humble submission. She bowed her head low, her voice returning to its frail, shaky tone.
"Young Master Duke! You startled this old woman," she chirped, though her fingers gripped her apron tight enough to tear it.
Kaelen lowered the mug, his heart slowing just a fraction. He didn't know the name, and he had no memories of this 'Duke' character, but the hierarchy was easy to read. This man was wearing fine leather, carried a sword that actually looked sharp, and radiated the kind of confidence that only comes from having a level advantage.
Duke Winchester stepped further into the shop, the silver shield tattoo on his left chest glowing faintly through the gap in his armor. It was White Ink, a step above Kaelen's gray smudge. He was the eldest son of the Village Chief, a genuine warrior compared to the clumsy bullies Kaelen had dealt with earlier.
"Enough with the pleasantries, Kana," Duke boomed, his voice echoing off the flour-dusted rafters. "My father is hosting... guests. I need fifty kilograms of bread by midday. Pack it up."
Kana's eyes widened in fake panic. "Fifty kilograms? My lord, this is a small bakery! I don't have enough flour or time!" Inside, she was cursing the Winchester bloodline. She knew Duke's secret—he wasn't collecting 'tithes' for his father's guests. He was funneling food to the abandoned war orphans hidden in the forest outskirts. His arrogance was a loud cover for a warm heart, but to Kana, he was currently nothing but a massive obstacle to her sacrifice.
Duke sighed impatiently, tapping the hilt of his sword. Then, his gaze swung toward the corner, landing on the thin boy sitting on the stool. "And what are you looking at, brat? You got a problem with my face?"
Kaelen stared back, his expression one of blank curiosity. He was busy comparing this man to Baron. The family resemblance was there—about sixty percent—but Duke lacked the greasy, coward-like twitch Baron had. Kaelen kept his face innocently empty, playing the part of a confused peasant.
Suddenly, a sharp, digital ping resonated inside his skull.
[Hidden Quest Completed!]
[Condition Met: Encountered enough Tattooed (2/2)]
[New Feature Unlocked: System Basic Skill – Inspect]
A third tab flickered into existence on his translucent screen, shimmering with a new golden light.
System Status:
Level: Basic
System Skills: Inspect (Lv.1) * Description: Allows the host to analyze a Tattooed individual within 5 meters. Provides a basic understanding of their abilities.
Limitation: Higher-level targets yield vague information. Currently capable of viewing full info for targets up to one level (White Ink) above the host.
Duke watched the thin boy for a moment longer, but when Kaelen offered nothing but a blank stare, the warrior simply huffed and turned his back. He didn't explode in a fit of rage or demand an apology; he was too busy, his mind clearly weighted by the fifty kilograms of bread he needed to secure.
"Quit stalling, Kana!" Duke barked, leaning over the counter. "I know you have enough flour in the back to feed a platoon. Get the ovens hot or I'll start charging you for the air you're breathing in my father's village."
Kana wrung her hands, her eyes darting between the impatient Duke and the poisoned mug Kaelen was still holding. "But Young Master, the quality... it takes time..."
While the two clashed, Kaelen's focus was entirely on the shimmering blue window in his peripheral vision. A skill with no cooldown and no cost? In his old life, that would be considered a "broken" mechanic. He didn't waste a second. He focused his mind on the broad-shouldered man in front of him.
Skill Activation: Inspect.
Target Status
Name: Duke Winchester
Tattoo Level: White Ink, 1 Mark
Category: Tool
The information was bare-bones. Kaelen frowned. It was enough to confirm Duke's level, but not his specific threat profile. Then, a new prompt flickered.
[System Notice: Spend 5 Ink Force to unlock 'Detailed Analysis'?]
Kaelen hesitated. Five mana was a quarter of his current pool. In a hostile environment, that was a gamble. But looking at the cold, calculating look in Kana's eyes, he realized he needed to know exactly who was standing in this room. He mentally tapped 'Confirm.'
[Ink Pool: 10/20]
Target Status (Detailed)
Name: Duke Winchester
Name of Tattoo: Shield of Valor
Tattoo Level: White Ink, 1 Mark
Category: Tool
Description: A physical manifestation of a heavy infantry shield. While its form is simple, the Winchester bloodline carries a dormant "Legacy Trace" within the ink. The shield possesses a hidden durability threshold that exceeds standard White Ink levels.
Kaelen's eyebrows shot up. A legacy bloodline? That meant the rules of this world weren't just about the color of the ink, but the history behind it. It was a variable he couldn't calculate yet.
His gaze drifted from Duke to the "kind" old baker. If Duke was a White Ink warrior, what was she? He shifted his focus and triggered the skill again.
Target Status
Name: Kana [Last Name Encrypted]
Tattoo Level: [Information Redacted - Level Gap Too High]
Category: Summoning
Kaelen's heart didn't just skip a beat; it hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. The system couldn't even read her level. That meant she wasn't just a step above him—she was a monster lurking in a grandmother's skin. And her category was Summoning. She wasn't going to hit him; she was going to call something to do it for her.
He looked at the murky red liquid in the mug. He was holding his own death.
Acting on pure gamer reflex, Kaelen set the mug down on the counter with a steady hand. He didn't wait for a gap in their shouting match. He stepped toward the door, keeping his head down.
"Thank you for the bread, Grandma Kana," Kaelen said, his voice trembling slightly—this time with genuine adrenaline. "I just remembered... I left the door to my shack wide open. I have to go before the wind ruins what's left of the roof."
He turned and gave a quick, submissive bow toward Duke's back. "Pardon me, My Lord."
Before Kana could utter a word of protest or Duke could ask why he was in such a hurry, Kaelen pushed through the heavy wooden door. The freezing mountain air hit his face, but it was the most beautiful thing he had ever felt. He didn't run—running would look suspicious—but he walked with a predatory efficiency, putting as much distance between himself and that bakery as his weak legs would allow.
The King had just realized he wasn't in a starter village. He was in a boss room.