Chapter 2: The System and the Sword
The walk to the city of Velaria took most of the day. Mano moved quickly, driven by a strange combination of adrenaline, confusion, and quiet determination. Every step he took reminded him—this wasn't a dream. This world was real. And so was his second chance.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, golden light washing over the high walls of Velaria, he approached the city gates. Two armored guards eyed him cautiously.
"You're not from around here, are you?" one of them asked, hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
"No," Mano replied calmly. "I'm a traveler. Looking for work… and training."
The second guard smirked. "You and every other poor soul."
Still, after a brief inspection, they waved him through. "Stay out of trouble. Adventurer Guild's in the center square if you're looking to register."
Mano nodded, stepping through the gates—and into a whole new world.
---
Velaria was alive. Streets lined with stalls, the scent of roasting meat and spices in the air, and voices all around: merchants calling out deals, children laughing, blacksmiths hammering away.
But Mano's eyes were sharp. Despite the noise, he noticed details: a cloaked figure watching from a rooftop, the way certain alleyways quieted as he passed.
"I need to be careful. This world is beautiful… but it's not safe."
---
[Daily Mission: Practice Swordsmanship – 0/100 slashes]
[Reward: +1 Strength | +5 Battle Points]
Mano blinked as the screen popped up in front of him.
"A daily mission?" he murmured.
He made his way to the edge of town and found a small clearing beside the training yard. Nearby, young knights were sparring under the eyes of instructors.
He stepped aside, grabbed a training sword from a rack, and began.
Slash.
Slash.
Slash.
Again and again.
It wasn't graceful at first. His body was young, unfamiliar—but his mind remembered. Every movement, every stance, drilled into him by years of war.
Soon, the rhythm returned.
---
[Mission Complete.]
+1 Strength
+5 Battle Points acquired.
---
He exhaled, wiping sweat from his brow. His muscles ached—but the fire in his chest burned brighter.
"I can grow stronger. Every day. Every swing of the sword brings me closer."
Suddenly—
"You. You're not a local." A voice came from behind.
Mano turned.
A tall boy with polished armor and a sneer stood there, surrounded by two others. He held a gleaming iron sword and carried himself like someone used to power.
"I'm Garret Malden, son of Lord Malden. I don't know how peasants like you sneak into Velaria, but you're swinging that sword like you think you belong here."
Mano's gaze didn't flinch.
"He's nothing like the real enemies I've fought," he thought.
"I'm just training," he said flatly.
Garret smirked. "Then let me help."
Without warning, he lunged.
---
CLANG!
Steel met steel.
Even with just a training sword, Mano blocked it effortlessly. His movements were precise, efficient. Too efficient for someone his age.
Garret's eyes widened. "What…?"
Mano stepped forward, disarmed him with a swift twist, and brought the wooden blade to his throat.
"You're slow," Mano said coldly. "And careless."
The onlookers stared in silence.
Garret stumbled back, red with humiliation. "You… you'll regret this!"
As he stormed off, Mano looked around. A few guards had seen. Some of the young knights murmured among themselves.
He sighed.
"So much for staying low."
---
That night, under the starlit sky, Mano sat on a rooftop overlooking the glowing city.
"I've been given power. Time. Opportunity. But that means others will notice. Enemies will come."
He stared at his hand—the hand of a young man, yet carrying the soul of a soldier.
"Let them come. This time, I'll be ready."