"Well, if it isn't the blacksmith," someone sneered. "What—went out hunting and came back empty-handed again? And now you've dragged back another mouth to waste food? Hahaha!"
A group of men lounged near the road, clothes half-fastened, iron swords hanging loose at their hips. Their laughter was sharp and ugly.
Garrick Forge didn't even slow. He snorted. "Funny words from men who live off others. If this kid had stayed out there as long as you lot would've lasted, he'd be dead in minutes—ripped apart by Zombies."
The laughter died instantly.
Faces darkened. One by one, iron swords slid free of their sheaths.
"Watch your mouth, you stinking blacksmith," one of them spat. "Looks like you've forgotten your place. Guess we'll have to remind you."
Garrick said nothing.
He reached back and drew his axe.
Planting his feet, he took on a strange stance, muscles coiling. With a sharp exhale—"Hah!"—a yellow crescent of qi tore through the air toward the men.
They screamed.
Swords clattered to the ground as they scattered, voices breaking in panic. "Help! Boss—help us!"
A short figure stepped out from the shadows.
He was small and wiry, hair a chaotic mess, eyes narrow and oily. His grin curled upward in a way that made Jasper's skin crawl.
With a casual flick of his hand, the man shattered Garrick's Qi Slash as if swatting aside smoke.
The yellow arc dispersed into nothing.
The cowards rushed back immediately, fawning at his sides.
"Told you the blacksmith was weak—boss broke his attack with one move!"
"Boss is amazing! You must've broken through to the Arcane Tier, right? Even that old geezer in white wouldn't stand a chance against you now!"
The man—Tomas Trell—soaked it in, chin lifting smugly.
But Jasper noticed something they didn't.
Behind his back, Tomas's fingers trembled.
So it wasn't effortless, Jasper realized. He's hiding it.
Garrick's attack scared him.
Tomas's eyes flicked toward Garrick, calculating, then slid to Jasper.
Jasper's stomach dropped.
Why is he looking at me? Don't—don't drag me into this…
Tomas strolled forward, hands clasped behind his back. "Garrick, think about it. Food's already scarce. And now you bring in another person? That's irresponsible."
He smiled thinly. "How about this—future food distribution. Seven parts for us. Three for you."
Jasper's fists clenched.
This bastard…
Garrick exploded. "Impossible! You people hoard the village's resources and never lift a finger. Don't think I don't know!"
He jabbed a finger toward Tomas's followers. "Every one of your lackeys carries an iron sword. What about us? Our people are still using stone blades! Stone swords—are those for fighting Zombies? They're barely good enough for slaughtering pigs!"
"So," Tomas said lightly, "you're refusing?"
Garrick spat on the ground. "I've put up with you long enough. You terrorize the village every day. Tonight, I'm ending it."
He raised his massive axe and charged.
Tomas's eyes narrowed. "Hmph. Not even Rank 6 yet and you dare challenge me? Fine. I'll cripple you tonight."
He drew his sword.
Jasper sucked in a breath.
Tomas's blade wasn't like the others. Ancient patterns ran along the steel, inlaid with strange metals that glimmered faintly. Even without understanding weapons, Jasper could feel it—
That sword is way stronger than a normal iron sword.
And there was no way someone like Tomas should own something like that.
A spark of greed flared in Jasper's eyes—then died under a surge of fear.
Garrick can't win.
Tomas's sword flashed with a silver-gray glow.
A blade of qi screamed through the air toward Garrick.
Garrick roared back, releasing another yellow Qi Slash.
The two attacks collided—
—and Garrick's was split cleanly apart.
The silver-gray blade kept coming.
Right then, a red fireball streaked in from the side and detonated midair.
The explosion rocked the street.
"Elder Rowan is back!" villagers cried, turning toward the flames.
Tomas stepped back, expression smoothing into false politeness. "Ah, Village Elder. Perfect timing. I was just about to ask you to discipline Garrick Forge."
He gestured theatrically. "He attempted to injure my men. Even tried to attack me. What do you think should be done?"
Jasper wasn't surprised.
The fire magic. The white robe. The calm authority.
It was obvious now—Elder Rowan, Bronze Tier, Rank 7. The village head.
Elder Rowan studied Tomas for a long moment, then said evenly, "This haul of food. Seven parts for you. Three for the village."
Tomas burst out laughing. "You think scraps will satisfy me? Elder Rowan, that's hilarious."
"Then what do you want?" Elder Rowan asked.
Tomas's gaze slid to Jasper.
The weight of it pinned him in place. His legs felt like they'd been filled with lead as Tomas approached, step by step.
"Food is short," Tomas said mildly. "And now there's an extra mouth. Unless he proves his value."
Murmurs rippled through the villagers.
"Food really is running out…"
"What are we supposed to do now?"
Garrick snapped. "Enough! Food is scarce, yes—but this kid is my responsibility. He won't eat your share. Mind your own business."
Tomas chuckled. "Oh, I don't care whose food he eats. Whether he stays or not—that's up to the villagers."
He turned, spreading his arms. "A man with no combat ability is a burden. Surviving outside once means nothing—just luck. Our village doesn't keep useless people. Right?"
Some nodded immediately.
"Yeah, kick him out."
"That's a bit harsh…" someone muttered.
"What's harsh about it?" a slouching man scoffed. "Letting him eat is charity. Not feeding him is normal."
Tomas laughed, eyes gleaming. "Look at this, Elder Rowan. These are the people you protect."
Then his smile sharpened. "But I'm generous. Let's make a wager."
Elder Rowan's gaze hardened. "What wager?"
Tomas stopped in front of Jasper.
Jasper couldn't move. He could only look up.
"Garrick said this boy survived outside," Tomas said. "So let him prove he's useful. I want him to kill five Leatherclad Zombies."
Gasps sounded.
"Relax," Tomas added lazily. "I won't be unreasonable. He's just a normal person, after all. I'll give him three years."
He tapped his chest. "No one may help him in secret. If he fails—Elder Rowan, you step down as village head. If he succeeds, the boy stays. And I'll personally cover all his food."
His followers raised their swords, cheering.
Ding.
Mission Discovered.Objective: Kill five Leatherclad ZombiesTime Limit: One monthReward: Bronze Tier, Rank 5 — Gray CloakAccept Mission?
Jasper's breath hitched.
One month? He frowned internally. That's not what he said…
Then the reward registered.
Bronze Tier, Rank 5… same level as Garrick. That has to be good.
Garrick shouted, furious. "This is unfair! Three years—or even one! We don't even know his aptitude. You're forcing this!"
Jasper stepped forward.
"I accept."
Silence slammed down.
"What?!" Garrick spun on him. Even Elder Rowan looked stunned.
Tomas blinked—then laughed loudly. "Bold kid. Just don't die under a Zombie's teeth, yeah?"
Jasper met his gaze, heart pounding.
I won't.