With every step he took, he imagined a map screen, with a quest marker blinking in the distance. This was his new world, his survival game. And Aeryon had no intention of losing.
"Reach the village... then find my sister and brother. Then plan revenge on that bastard Malakai." He organized his priorities in his mind. "And to do all that, I need to understand this damn system and how to break it."
The road to the village seemed longer than he remembered from the original Aeryon's memories. Maybe because his body was weaker, or because every step reminded him of the bleeding and pain. The sun was beginning to set, and the sounds of the forest grew darker.
"No time for fear, you pathetic body!" Aeryon growled to himself. "I have a family to find."
He forced his way through the forest with difficulty, each step a challenge. Every two minutes, his HP ticked down from the bleeding that hadn't fully stopped. But "Faint Whisper of Healing" was just enough to keep him alive. He used it over and over, each time restoring a measly 3 HP, barely balancing what he lost.
The sun had nearly set when Aeryon spotted faint lights flickering between the trees. Seraphin Village. A brief relief washed over him—but it didn't last.
Rustle—
He heard laughter up ahead.
"Hahaha! I'm telling you, Peter, this time the venison stew is MINE!"
"You idiot pig, forget it, Jack! You can barely throw that spear straight!"
Two guards emerged from the trees, wearing rough leather armor and carrying rusted spears. They were laughing loudly, deep in their argument about dinner—until they noticed Aeryon staggering toward them.
The laughter stopped abruptly. The two guards stared at Aeryon, expressions shifting between pity and shock.
"Oh... Aeryon?" said Jack, the first guard, grinning with a mouth full of crooked teeth. "Thought you were dead, man! Hahaha!"
"Damn it!" roared Peter, the second guard, his face red with anger. "Why aren't you dead, you runt?! I lost the bet! How the hell did you survive, you filth?! The young lord was furious—I was sure he'd killed you! I lost ten coppers because of you, that's two whole days of work!!"
Aeryon didn't respond. He could barely stand. He walked past them silently, ignoring their words. Arguing with trash like them was a waste of time and energy.
---
A few minutes later, Aeryon reached the eastern edge of the village. The houses were modest, most made of wood and clay. Then he saw that house—small, crumbling, but somehow warm. Home.
Before he could reach the door, it burst open, and two small children rushed out. A little girl with tangled blonde hair and wide green eyes, and a younger boy with messy brown hair and a gap-toothed grin.
"Brother!" the girl shrieked, throwing herself at him. Lyra, his little sister.
"Aeryon!" the boy followed, stumbling over his words as if he couldn't believe his eyes. Kalin.
Aeryon braced as they crashed into him. Pain lanced through his body, but he stifled his groans. "Lyra... Kalin..." he whispered hoarsely. "I'm fine... I'm here."
Lyra stared up at him with teary eyes. "We thought you'd never come back! Prince Malakai said you—" She choked on her words, tears spilling over.
"Malakai? That bastard—" Aeryon started, then stopped abruptly. He looked at their innocent faces. "No, no, Malakai... that guy... doesn't matter now." He almost unleashed a torrent of curses but remembered—these were kids. "I'll traumatize their poor little minds with my foul mouth."
He forced a smile. "Let's go inside. I'm tired."
---
The inside of the house was cramped and simple—a tiny living space doubling as a kitchen, and a door leading to the single bedroom. The bathroom? "An outhouse a few steps away, near the garden," Aeryon recalled. "What a luxurious life..."
"Are you hungry, brother?" Lyra asked, her eyes full of hope. "You must be hungry! Right? Let's eat! I made soup! It's the best in the world!"
"Best in the world?" Kalin tugged at Aeryon's sleeve. "It tastes like worms!"
"You little brat, it does NOT!" Lyra shrieked, then turned to Aeryon with an eager grin, as if saying, "Right, right?" "It's delicious, isn't it?"
"Of course, Lyra, I'm sure it's the best," Aeryon said, sitting on the worn earthen floor. A warmth spread in his chest—not from the soup, but from the children's innocence. But the feeling didn't last.
"Why are you hurt, brother?" Kalin asked, staring at Aeryon's bruises. "Did you fight with a bas—"
"NO!" Aeryon cut him off quickly, remembering the word "bastard" he'd almost used earlier. "I didn't fight any... bastard! I just... fell. Yeah, fell on a... bastard tree!"
"Bastard tree?" Lyra blinked, her green eyes wide with curiosity. "What's a bastard tree? A monster?"
"Haha... ha... no, sweetie." Aeryon laughed nervously. "A bastard tree is... a very special kind of tree. It's... a bad tree. Doesn't like people. So I fell on it. Yeah, that's it! An evil tree! Never go near it!"
The two children stared at him for a second—then burst into laughter. "Evil tree!" Kalin cheered. "That's funny!"
Aeryon sighed in relief, though pain reminded him of his sorry state. "Yeah... hilarious. Damn it." He closed his eyes. "I need to be more careful with my words here. This isn't a game—I can't corrupt these innocent little creatures." The dark comedy of their situation dripped from his tongue with every word, but he realized he had to be more cautious.
"And now, the most important thing—my reward!"
Aeryon checked the system and pressed the unread messages button.
Ding~
[You have received 5 EXP and healing from external bleeding!]
Aeryon frowned deeply. "Haa, I don't like the sound of 'internal bleeding' here." But he was exhausted. He headed to the bedroom with the kids and found only two thin mattresses. Instinctively, he took one and collapsed into sleep.
---
Aeryon groaned as he woke the next morning, his body still screaming in pain. Sunlight streamed through the small window, confirming that yesterday hadn't been a nightmare. It was his miserable reality.
He looked at the sleeping children. Lyra was curled into a tiny ball, while Kalin... slept in a bizarre position, one small leg stretched directly toward his sister's head. Aeryon couldn't help but chuckle quietly. "Even in sleep, a chaotic little rat." He adjusted Kalin's position, gently pulling him to share the mattress, leaving the other worn-out one for himself.
Aeryon stood up with difficulty, ignoring the pain. He headed to the tiny kitchen—just a cramped space with a stone stove and a few pots. He opened the small cupboard. Nothing.
"As expected. Empty."
He remembered from the original Aeryon's memories that the soup Lyra had served yesterday was all they had left. Their lives revolved around soup most days, sometimes potatoes. "What a rotten life for innocent kids." He sighed. There was nothing else to eat.
He glanced out the window. The beautiful full moon from last night had been replaced by a bright sun. "Is this a dream?" For a moment, he wished it was—but the pain and empty stomach confirmed the harsh truth. "Not a dream. It's hell."
Aeryon recalled his usual biological clock. In his old world, he'd wake up at this exact time, ready for another grueling workday. "What time is it, oh welcoming System?"
He paused, then remembered—in this fantasy world, commoners didn't have pocket watches. But from the original Aeryon's memories, there was a large clock hanging in the main tailor's shop in the village. Not far.
---
His options were clear.
Option 1: Go back to work at the city lord's palace—the place where he'd been beaten half to death by Prince Malakai.
Option 2: Go hunt weak monsters.
"Work?" Aeryon muttered sarcastically. "Go back to that filthy palace where I almost died? Have I lost my mind?"
The second option sounded more logical—and more appealing to an RPG player like him. "Hunting monsters. That's what I do. That's what I'm good at." But his body was still recovering, and his healing skill was barely functional. "Three HP every five minutes? That's garbage!"
He stood in the middle of the living-kitchen area, weighing his choices. "I need money for Lyra and Kalin. The palace pays, even if it's scraps. Hunting monsters... might be dangerous."
But there was something else.
"Malakai. That bastard. I won't forget what he did. And I won't forgive." It wasn't the original Aeryon planning revenge—it was the Lord of the Kingdoms steering the ship now.
With a sly grin and a stupid look, he made his decision.
"The palace... I'll go to the palace."
"But not to work. To see that dog Malakai. And to plan."
"You can't defeat an enemy if you don't know where he sleeps."
Aeryon decided to return to the hell of the palace. "There's only one day left in the month. I'll endure this shit, take my miserable pay, and then turn Malakai's and his family's lives into an unbearable hell." He smirked—a stupid, vicious smirk that didn't reach his eyes.
"Pride is stupid... Money matters more. And all the humiliation this weak body endured—I won't forget it for the sake of worthless pride… Yes, I'm not afraid at all of losing the wages I didn't work for, of course. Just so the original Aeryon's suffering doesn't go to waste. Yes, yes."
[HP: 30 / 100 (-1 due to internal bleeding)]
"Damn it, I knew I shouldn't have trusted that 'external bleeding' message! My HP is dropping way too fast! Even if the bleeding slowed, it's still bad!"
But before heading to the palace, there was something more important.
His plan needed tools.
Ding~
[Skill Forger – Creation Mode]