Even lay half-dead inside a wooden horse-drawn carriage. He made a desperate attempt to tremble his lips to utter a faint word, but he could not. His entire face was still as numb as stone from the intensity of the poison.
Just then, a blue system window floated before his eyes:
[Warning: Poison Level has decreased by 70%.]
Slowly, Even felt life returning to his numb body. Through blurred vision, he looked down at his stomach. He saw a sturdy hand resting there, emitting a serene, magical green aura. Tiny golden specks, like grains of pearls from a shell, flickered from that aura onto his entire body.
As a fan of fantasy novels, Even understood instantly—this was no ordinary medical treatment; it was 'Healing Magic.' The person healing him wore an unusual ancient cloak. A massive hood was pulled over their head, shrouding their face in mysterious darkness. The person looked like an ancient sorcerer.
Even's brain was still failing to process everything. He was supposed to be dead on the ground after consuming poison! How did he get here? And who were these mysterious people?
The System replied as if it could read his mind:
[Your luck is even better than you imagined! I thought I'd send you into the hostile environment of the forest to train and make you stronger instead of the city. But it seems your fate is running according to your own desires!]
Hearing the System's snide remarks, Even's blood boiled. He cursed 'Fuck system' a dozen times in his mind. But he didn't dare utter a single word. The terrifying memory of what happened with the Baron was still fresh—when Even had almost died trying to interact with the System. In this half-dead state, he didn't want to invite any new danger.
Even's vision gradually cleared. He realized he was lying inside a moving wooden carriage. The green aura of healing magic was still gently stroking his numb body.
Even blinked, trying to recognize the hazy figures around him. In the dim light of the carriage, he saw four or five people. Aside from the mysterious hooded sorcerer healing him, there were four others. A strange hardness resided in each of their faces.
Sitting directly behind the sorcerer was a woman. A massive bow hung on her back, and a quiver full of sharp arrows was tucked at her waist. Her sharp eyes were fixed on the surrounding darkness like a hunting hawk. Her fingers seemed ready at any moment to grip the bowstring. There was a strange coldness in her gaze.
Leaning in the corner of the carriage sat a swordsman. He wore leather armor, and a heavy sword hung at his waist. His posture exuded the aura of a natural-born leader. He watched Even from the corner of his eye with a look of deep suspicion and distrust.
Even thought to himself, 'Doesn't this guy know you shouldn't look at a half-dead, sick person like that?'
Beside him sat a short, broad-shouldered man. He had a rough beard and wore armor made of metal and animal hide. For a fantasy nerd like Even, it took only a second to recognize him—this was definitely a 'Dwarf.' A giant axe was kept near his hand, looking far too large for his body.
And leaning right in front of Even's face was the same round, stout man. His thick belly, bulging through tight clothes, was bumping against Even. From his demeanor, Even figured he was a merchant or trader, as a calculating business-like impression was clear on his face. But at that moment, a hint of anger appeared in his troubled eyes. He looked at Even and shouted impatiently, "Hey! Why aren't you speaking? Answer me!!"
Even remained silent. His lips were numb, and his brain was not yet fully functional due to the poison. He couldn't reply; he just stared blankly.
The swordsman slammed his heavy scabbard onto the floor.
"Mr. Henderson!" The warrior's grave voice echoed inside the wooden carriage. "Why did you waste your resources and our strength to save this nuisance?"
Merchant Henderson rubbed his belly and grimaced in annoyance. "Have you gone mad, Alfred? A human being is lying half-dead in the middle of the road, and we should just pretend not to see him? As humans, we have at least some level of accountability!"
Alfred leaned in and looked at Even with a gaze of loathing. "Human? In this desolate wilderness where dragons and monsters roam, a boy lying alone having consumed poison—does that seem normal to you? He could be a spy, or bait for a bandit group! You aren't just risking your own life, but the security of our entire caravan."
"Enough!" Henderson raised a hand to stop him. "I am a merchant; I understand profit and loss. But I am not cruel. Saving him was my decision."
The argument lasted for quite a while. Alfred repeatedly tried to explain that keeping a stranger was an invitation to danger. On the other hand, Henderson remained firm in his humanitarian logic. Finally, Alfred gave in with a long sigh. He turned to the sorcerer and called out in a raspy voice, "Eldric! How much longer until this nuisance fully regains consciousness?"
The hooded sorcerer, Eldric, did not stop his work. He answered calmly, "It will take quite a bit more time, Alfred. Fortunately, the poison hasn't reached deep into his body yet. However, this boy's body is very weak, so the poison's effect has taken a monstrous hold on him. He won't be able to stand up right away."
Alfred placed his hand on the hilt of his sword and looked back at Henderson. A stern warning was in his eyes. "Regardless, Mr. Henderson... remember, we are contracted for your safety. If any danger comes because of this man, we will not take responsibility. Our first priority is your life and your goods."
Merchant Henderson nodded in agreement. Amidst the rattling of the wheels and the sound of horse hooves, the conversations around Even began to fade again. He realized he had fallen in with a tough group where mercy and suspicion went hand in hand.
Suddenly, a deafening, sky-rending scream tore through the air. A moment later, under the impact of a massive mace, the wooden carriage was tossed and overturned like a toy.
Dust and broken wood flew through the air. Even and Merchant Henderson were thrown onto the stony ground nearby. The experienced adventurer party managed to compose themselves and stood in battle stances. Alfred the swordsman stood up, brushing off the dust, his voice dripping with intense irritation— "Danger comes free with nuisances."
As the dust settled, a group of brutal bandits was seen surrounding them. They held rusted swords and heavy axes. The bandit leader stepped forward slowly with a cruel smile. Every step he took felt like an echo of death.
The leader stood before Henderson. His raspy voice carried a demand, "Enough drama, Mr. Merchant! Now, do this the easy way. Give us that precious 'Red Viper' hide. And tell us, where have you hidden the remains of that dead snake? Spit out the location quickly!"
Henderson was groaning in pain, but his face turned red with indignation and courage. He gritted his teeth and stated clearly, "Impossible! You will get none of it."
By then, Even had somehow managed to sit up. His head was still spinning, but the blue system window glowed brightly before his eyes:
[Warning: Effects of the poison are almost completely cleared. The body is now mobile.]
Sweat trickled down Even's forehead. On one side was the glint of bandit swords, and on the other, the pulse of a new life found through healing magic—all together, he stood at the brink of extreme tension. His thin body was still trembling, but a strange resolve for battle was now in his eyes.
The bandit leader slowly dismounted from his pitch-black horse. Every step he took on the dry leaves sounded like a message from the God of Death. He lazily drew his sword from its sheath—the friction of iron tore through the air with a grating sound.
He began to approach Alfred. His pace was slow, but the bloodlust radiating from his body forced even Alfred to step back a few paces. But suddenly, like a flash of lightning, the scene changed. Instead of attacking Alfred, the leader pivoted with lightning speed and stood before Merchant Henderson.
"If you don't give the location, you won't even have your eye left, old man!" The tip of the leader's sword stopped just inches away from Henderson's left eyeball.
At that exact moment, an intense urge struck Even's brain. He knew that for some reason, he could not let this man die. Due to the fading effects of the poison and the low gravity of this world, his body now felt light as a feather. He lunged with the speed of the wind and shoved Henderson aside.
As the leader's sword struck empty air, Alfred seized the opportunity and charged into the middle like a storm. A life-and-death duel between two experienced warriors began.
The first metallic sound pierced the air— Clang!
Sparks flew from the collision of Alfred's heavy sword and the leader's curved blade. The leader moved with electric speed, aiming a low strike at Alfred's knee. With extraordinary skill, Alfred leaped into the air, spun once, and landed, bringing the full weight of his sword down toward the leader's neck.
The leader held his sword horizontally, blocking the powerful blow. Dust from the ground swirled like a whirlwind under the pressure of the two warriors' feet. Alfred did not back down; he unleashed a series of thrusts with his sword. The leader deflected every strike with nonchalance, as if testing Alfred's patience.
Suddenly, the leader shifted his body weight and tried to kick Alfred in the ribs. Alfred parried the kick with the hilt of his sword and gave a forceful shove to the leader's chest. Both warriors were thrown back several feet.
The breathing of both men was now heavy. Sweat poured down Alfred's forehead, while a cruel satisfaction gleamed in the leader's eyes. They stared fixedly at each other, resting the tips of their swords on the ground, taking a momentary pause.