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墨書 Inktalez
The clothes in the box may seem ordinary, but the details reveal uniqueness, with every stitch showing exquisite handwork. This set of clothing seems to carry a deep emotion, just as Rayal thought, it may be prepared by an old woman for her long-lost son.
As he tried on each piece of clothing, with each one, Rayal could feel a warmth flowing through his heart. The clothes fit remarkably well, as if tailored specifically for him, the pants falling perfectly at the waist, and the boots fitting just right. Looking at himself in the mirror, this outfit made him look more like a part of this world, no longer the outsider in modern clothing.
Wearing this outfit, Rayal seemed to have put on a thin shield, isolating himself from the unfamiliarity and dissonance of this world. Standing there, his gaze fell on the box for storing clothes, and he felt a surge of respect and gratitude for the old woman. In this unknown world, the old woman unintentionally provided him with some warmth and shelter.
Rayal gently closed the box and carefully put it back in its place. He bowed deeply, whispering words of thanks, even though he knew the old woman could no longer hear. At this moment, Rayal felt not only for the gift, but also for the motherly love that he had never met, a sense of compassion and emotion in his heart.
The system's achievement prompt popped up, and this time its appearance seemed to make Rayal feel particularly helpless. Accompanied by a crisp sound, a line of cold text appeared in his field of vision: "Achievement Unlocked: [Murderous Thief! Kill an NPC and loot their home.]" Between the lines, there was no hint of awareness or sympathy for Rayal's current emotions, just like the indifferent rules of this virtual world.
He gently pressed the "X" on the interface, closing the unpleasant prompt. Rayal felt heavy-hearted at this moment. He never thought he would come to this point, let alone achieve it in this way. But in this perilous world, he knew that his survival was the top priority. After becoming a notorious player, he would become the target of all NPCs, and without sufficient supplies and plans, his adventure would soon come to an end.
He looked at the items in the room that he had turned over, a complex emotion churning in his heart. His journey would no longer be the same as before. Every step had to be more careful, every choice could determine life or death. He took a deep breath, secretly determined that no matter how many challenges this game world brought him, he would bravely face them and remain a just hero.
Tidying up his emotions, Rayal began to organize supplies, ensuring that he had enough provisions on his escape route. At this moment, he understood more than ever that his journey in Orindia would be lonelier and more difficult than ever before.
Rayal stood in front of the wooden door, his gaze lingering on the thin layer of cloth, filled with complexity and self-blame. He softly said "I'm sorry" to the silent figure beneath the cloth, as if this apology carried all his guilt and helplessness. But the instinct for survival reminded him that he must continue forward.
As he slowly pushed open the door, he was met with a crowd of angry villagers. It seemed as if they had been waiting there, only to give him the most direct condemnation. The insults poured in like a torrential rain, and various objects flew at him as if they were tangible punishments for his crimes. Rayal's heart was in turmoil, but he knew that any explanation at this moment would be futile.
"You and Villager No. 1 have reached an all-time low in your relationship!" One ominous message after another, until the final achievement appears: "Hate Ghosts! Reach an all-time low relationship with over fifteen NPCs." At that moment, he finally realizes that everything in Beginner's village has turned into a bubble.
Rayal knows that staying here will only make things worse, he must leave immediately. He tenses his body, preparing to find a way out amidst the protest and item attacks like raindrops.
When Rayal tried to blend in with the crowd and secretly search for an escape opportunity, a loud and stern voice suddenly interrupted his thoughts. The village chief, an old man wearing a heavy leather hat and a coarse robe, with a cloak symbolizing authority draped over his shoulders, walked out of the crowd with two well-trained guards.
"Thinking of running away after killing someone?" The village chief's voice ignited a sense of righteous anger in the hearts of every villager, their shouts filled with hatred and incomprehension towards Rayal.
The village chief immediately snapped his fingers, which was the signal to execute the order. Two guards tightly gripped their wooden spears and swiftly surrounded Rayal. There was no hesitation in their eyes, only the execution of their duty.
Rayal explained urgently, his voice filled with anxiety and panic, telling them that it was all a misunderstanding and he had no intention of killing anyone. However, his words seemed to be scattered by the wind, unable to reach the hearts of the listeners and instead deepening their misunderstanding.
Rayal's heartbeat was pounding like a drum, and his breath became rapid in this tense escape. At a crossroads, Rayal knew he could no longer rely on words; he had to take action. Wanderer's skill "Escape" erupted within him, echoing Wanderer's years of escape techniques and strategies in his mind. It was his instinct and experience that told him how to survive in countless dangerous situations.
This skill heightened his perception sharply, calculating every detail in the environment - whether it was a stone on the ground or a water droplet dripping from the eaves - in his super-fast movements. He turned at an incredible angle, each step like a carefully choreographed dance, perfectly evading the guards and villagers chasing him.
His escape was not just a race of speed, but also a display of intelligence. Rayal utilized the advantage of the terrain, quickly determining where could serve as cover and which narrow passages could block the pursuers. As he ran, he ducked to avoid obstacles, leaped over fences, and even seemed to use the muddy ground beneath his feet as a tool to accelerate.
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