Then the system spoke everywhere at once. The sound layered over the village in a way that didn't interrupt but replaced it. It cut cleanly through movement and conversation alike.
[Global Announcement Attention all players. The First Event will begin shortly. All players will be relocated to the event area. Fireworks display, exclusive costumes, rare drops, EXP potions, and class-specific rewards will be distributed.]
Little Tank turned his head slightly at the sound, his eyes flicking toward the source. He registered the system's words, brows barely moving in response, a subtle acknowledgment. Then, as if nothing about the announcement warranted more attention, Little Tank looked back at the counter, his posture unchanged. In that moment, the focus remained entirely on him.
Switching focus to Spring, they let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh but didn't quite reach it. "You're not even surprised, the gods speak, and you shrug," they murmured, though it wasn't really a question.
For a moment, nothing else happened, just long enough for it to feel like something should have. Then the shift came. It wasn't a flash or a pull. Nothing visible changed. Yet the space seemed to adjust. The world quietly realigned without moving. The stall was still in front of him, Spring still there, the street still visible beyond. Still, none of it felt anchored in quite the same way. Spring's fingers curled slightly against the edge of the counter. His posture tightened, just enough to notice. His gaze flicked outward, then back, as if checking for something that wasn't there anymore. "…that's not normal," he said, softer now.
Returning to Little Tank's perspective, he remained unmoving, not responding or questioning the subtle change. He held his ground with quiet patience, giving no sign that recent events would affect his future plans.
Outside, the noise didn't return properly, voices still there but slightly off, movement continuing but without the same grounding, like everyone was already somewhere else and hadn't realised it yet.
"…hm," they murmured, brows knitting and lips flattening with visible doubt.
Little Tank stayed utterly still, features unmoved, but his fingers tapped once against his armour, an unspoken signal of focus rather than indifference.
Spring exhaled quietly, glancing sidelong at Little Tank. Something between irony and concern shaped their expression as they began sorting items again, movements slightly sharper. "You're not going," they ventured, gesture pausing in brief, visible hesitation.
[No.]
"…Of course you're not."
Outside, the sound of movement picked up. Players shifted, some already heading toward whatever they thought the event would center around. Voices rose, excitement building in that messy, overlapping way it always did when rewards were mentioned. Inside the stall, it stayed quieter, contained. The warm smell of herbs, wood, and spice held steady against the growing noise outside.
Then the fireworks started. They lit the ceiling in brief, distant flashes; color bled through gaps in the wood like something trying to force its way inside. Little Tank watched for a second. Then he looked back down at the items in front of him.
There didn't seem to be a point.
When events played out across the whole zone, heading for the so-called center brought no real benefit; instead, it simply made things louder and more crowded, increasing the risk of interference with gathering. By staying here, there was reliable access to stable resources, fewer interruptions, and a vendor with no inclination to overcharge.
That was better.
He adjusted the small pile of materials he'd collected, separating anything that looked immediately useful from things that might need processing later. Weight was becoming a problem, not yet critical but trending that way. Carrying everything wasn't efficient. Worse yet, dropping things was out of the question. He needed storage or compression, something that changed how inventory interacted with physical limits. Buying something made sense, probably.
He glanced at the back of the stall, containers stacked neatly. If nothing fit, someone else would sell some. Games like this always did. Housing was next. To cook well, he'd need a fixed place, fire, prep space, and storage. Renting a room met most of his needs and gave him a place to return to. That seemed useful, even if he didn't know exactly why. Recipes were less clear. Did people sell them, or did you learn by repetition? If they sold, it was probably expensive. If not, then experiment. Slower, but manageable. He paused, considering. Cooking surfaces were built for average players. He glanced at the counter, then at himself. A step ladder might be necessary. The fireworks cracked overhead with a sound so full it pressed faintly against the chest. Light spilled through the open front of the stall in flashes of gold, red, and silver, painting the shelves in brief, shifting color. The glow reflected off metal, glass jars, and Spring's eyes as they glanced up again, just for a second.
"…well," he said softly. "That's nice."
Little Tank tilted his head, narrow-eyed, tracking each flicker of light. He listened intensely, lips parted as if about to comment, shoulders subtly relaxing into the fireworks' cadence, betraying rare absorption in the moment.
Wow, he thought, with complete sincerity. This game feels so real.
The system chimed again.
[Event Reward: Main Life Skill Storage Unlocked.]
[Unlimited Ingredient Inventory Granted.]
The weight didn't just reduce; it vanished instantly.
Little Tank shifted, testing the new lightness, feeling unstable for a second. He stepped forward, armour settling differently much better. He looked at his inventory briefly, confirmed that everything had moved cleanly into the new storage, then closed it without further thought.
The next notification followed almost immediately.
[Event Reward: EXP Granted.]
Level Up.
LEVEL 13 reached.