Aldrich trudged forward, guided by the direction Debbie had pointed out. A blanket draped over his shoulders and oversized pants hung awkwardly on his frame.
Hunger gnawed at him relentlessly, but he pressed on, navigating rocky paths and thorny bushes with determination, though his mind wandered with excitement and nervous anticipation.
Everything around him felt like an adventure waiting to unfold.
The forest around him was vast and ancient, filled with towering trees whose branches formed a thick canopy above, allowing only slivers of sunlight to pierce through.
The air was cool and damp, carrying the earthy scent of moss and decaying leaves. In the distance, birdsong mixed with the occasional rustle of unseen creatures moving through the underbrush.
The soft crunch of his footsteps on the leaf-strewn path seemed amplified in the stillness, and he could feel the weight of the forest pressing in around him, ancient and alive.
Moss clung to the bark, and the air was rich with the earthy scent of damp soil and decaying leaves. Ferns and wildflowers sprouted between gnarled roots, adding touches of color to the green and brown expanse.
Aldrich couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder. "It's like something out of a storybook," he murmured, smiling to himself.
An hour into his journey, Aldrich stumbled upon a wild boar grazing on berries. His stomach growled loudly at the sight.
Gripping his Ironhew, he debated whether to hunt the boar.
He had never hunted, cleaned, or killed anything in this life or the one before it. Watching the boar peacefully enjoy its meal filled him with guilt.
Could he bring himself to kill it? What if he did it wrong and hurt the animal even more?
The thought made him cringe.
While he wrestled with his conscience, a deafening sound shattered the quiet. An arrow zipped through the air and struck the boar, which collapsed into a pool of blood.
"Wha-?" Aldrich muttered, startled. He barely had time to process the event before footsteps approached from the direction of the arrow.
A group of five hunters emerged from the trees, their presence commanding and distinct. Aldrich's curiosity flared, and he found himself gawking more than preparing to defend himself.
Leading the group was a burly man with a thick beard and a scar running diagonally across his cheek, giving him a fearsome air.
His piercing eyes held a mix of confidence and menace, scrutinizing everything around him as if gauging its worth.
Despite his rough appearance, there was a hint of cunning in the way his lips curved into a smirk, suggesting he was as shrewd as he was strong.
He carried a massive axe slung over his shoulder, its blade gleaming ominously even in the dim light. His leather armor, reinforced with metal plates, was worn but sturdy, hinting at countless battles fought.
Aldrich immediately thought the man looked like a hero from a tale—though maybe the kind who wasn't entirely noble.
Behind him, a wiry man with sharp features and a sly grin held a short sword, his movements quick and calculated. Next to him was a tall, muscular woman wielding a spear, her demeanor calm but her gaze sharp and assessing.
The archer, who had fired the fatal shot, was slender with delicate features, her face partially obscured by a hood. Despite her slight frame, the calluses on her hands and the ease with which she handled her bow spoke of experience.
Finally, a stocky, broad-shouldered man brought up the rear, carrying a large pack filled with supplies and tools, his expression one of quiet determination.
"Thanks, lad! If we hadn't seen you, we'd have missed that boar," the leader said with a hearty laugh.
Aldrich flushed at the attention and gave a small, awkward wave.
One of the hunters, armed with a bow, approached the boar and swiftly ended its suffering with a knife.
Aldrich winced, looking away.
The leader's gaze shifted back to Aldrich. "You look like a vagrant, but there's something noble about you. Are you a runaway noble, perhaps?" He laughed again, unaware that he had struck a nerve.
Aldrich's face heated up. "Uh, no! I mean, I just… I'm just passing through," he stammered, fiddling with the edge of his blanket.
Note: His acting like a baby made him quite anti-socia and awkward in speaking to other adultsl, he was also a normal 19 years old kid if you add all of his age in this life and in his previous life.
After a moment, he hesitantly added, "Can I have a piece of that boar? Just a palm-sized piece would be enough."
The leader rubbed his chin and glanced at his companions. "What do you say, boys? Share the boar with this young 'noble'?" he joked.
One of the hunters, armed with a short sword, pointed at Aldrich's Ironhew. "Boss, he could trade that axe for a piece of meat. Fair deal, right?"
Aldrich's heart raced. There were five of them, and he doubted his ability to fight them off. "Maybe I could outrun them with my Spectral Overdrive Spell," he thought, tightening his grip on his weapon.
He tried to look confident, but his wide eyes betrayed him.
Before tensions could escalate further, the archer raised a hand.
Without a word, she tossed a piece of the boar's leg to Aldrich. The leader scowled at her.
"You're too soft. If it weren't for your father, you wouldn't be in this group," he barked, before ordering the others to carry the boar.
Aldrich watched the group depart, silently thanking the archer for her kindness.
He noted her slender frame and delicate fingers, though the calluses on her palms suggested she was far from weak.
He suspected she was young and hoped to repay her generosity one day.
He couldn't help but think she seemed kind of cool.
After storing his Ironhew, Aldrich mentally accessed his inventory and equipped his Cloth Armor. The lightweight, pristine garment reminded him of the Mithril Coat from The Lord of the Rings.
He chuckled at his oversight in not equipping it sooner.
"Two years acting as a baby really did a number on my speech and thinking," he mused, shaking his head.
Stowing the boar leg in his storage, he searched for a secluded spot to cook it.
Finding none, he settled by a towering tree, its 100-meter height and surrounding bushes providing some concealment.
Gathering dry wood and leaves was easy in the forest, and he stacked them neatly before using his Sulphur Breath ability.
A cone of flame burst from his mouth, igniting the firewood instantly but draining 10 mana in the process.
"This skill is amazing, but it's a mana guzzler," he noted, glancing at his halved mana pool. "I need to invest more attributes in intelligence. Mana is my lifeline."
As the fire crackled, Aldrich roasted the boar leg. "Should've taken some salt and pepper from home," he muttered, lamenting the bland taste of the meat.
While waiting, he practiced wielding his Ironhew. Despite knowing the basics of Kane's Howling Steel Style, he had yet to gain any associated skills that he can level up. Determined to master the weapon, he began a methodical practice session.
The Ironhew felt heavy in his hands, its dark metal exuding an almost ominous presence. Aldrich assumed a basic stance, mimicking the movements from the Kane's Art.
The first swing was awkward, the blade cutting through the air with more weight than precision. Frustration bubbled up, but he refused to give up.
"Step, pivot, strike," he muttered, repeating the mantra as he adjusted his footwork. Each swing became more deliberate, the cleaver's arc slicing through the air with growing fluidity.
His muscles strained under the weapon's weight, but with each repetition, he felt a little more control.
The clearing became his training ground, the sounds of his practice blending with the forest's ambient noises.
Sweat trickled down his forehead as he visualized potential battles—parrying an enemy's strike, cleaving through thick armor, felling a charging beast.
His swings grew more confident, though still far from the effortless mastery he aspired to achieve.
After twenty minutes, his arms ached, and his breaths came in ragged gasps.
He lowered the cleaver, leaning on it like a crutch.
Despite the exhaustion, a flicker of pride warmed his chest. "I've got a long way to go," he admitted, sheathing the weapon.
"But at least I didn't drop it on my foot this time."
He sat by the fire, rubbing his sore arms and watching the boar leg roast.
The savory aroma reminded him why he had started this journey in the first place—to survive, grow stronger, and carve out his place in a world that seemed determined to test him.
As he chewed on the meat, he grimaced at its blandness but ate it nonetheless.
Finally he has the time to relax and read the Keystone that he chose.
Goldforged Resolve.