Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
Rayal sat down in the warm and slightly simple home of the old woman, looking around. Every small corner revealed the host's thoughtfulness and care. The hand-woven decorations on the wall were made of twine and feathers, each knot and loop carrying the old woman's dedication to life and pursuit of beauty. The simple furniture had minimal decoration, but was spotlessly clean, and the gentle wooden tones gave a sense of tranquility.
The green plants on the windowsill were kissed by the sunlight, their leaves shining with a natural luster. They quietly grew in this magical yet untouched little corner. In Rayal's cup was well water drawn from the old woman's backyard well, each sip seemingly able to cleanse the dust of the soul.
"Hasn't it been a long time since you've had a good meal?" the old woman asked with concern, as if seeing through Rayal's tough exterior and touching his inner hunger. Her question made Rayal nod gently, the hunger indicator on the panel had been flashing since he entered the world. His stomach had long forgotten the feeling of being full, rather than just satisfied. His gratitude was conveyed in his smile, genuine and heartfelt.
With a gentle smile, the old woman turned and entered the kitchen. Flames ignited on the stove, the traditional stone stove and firewood creating an ancient heat. Pieces of firewood were carefully placed in the fire, flames flickering and occasionally making crackling sounds, echoing in Rayal's ears as if it were the heartbeat of this home. The scent of firewood mixed with the aroma of cooking food, creating a unique hometown flavor.
Rayal stood up, about to help the kind old woman with her food preparations. He could feel the effort she was putting into it, and he didn't want to stand idly by. However, the old woman gently pushed him away with her hands marked by the passage of time, a firm yet gentle force in her refusal.
"You sit for a while, young man. Let me take care of this meal for you." The old woman's voice held a commanding power that made people involuntarily comply. She wasn't just providing food; she was also providing care, showing respect for Rayal as a guest and seemingly acknowledging Wanderer as a character.
Rayal sat back down on the creaking wooden chair, and the silhouette of the old woman bustled around the stove, skillfully handling each ingredient. As his fingers lightly traced the air, a transparent light screen appeared, his skill panel, and his only proof of identity in this strange world.
The information displayed on the light screen was minimal. The word "Wanderer" shimmered in a faint golden light, and below it was his current skill list—so simple that it couldn't be simpler. His only skill was "escape." In this world full of monsters and danger, perhaps escape was also a survival skill, but for Rayal who wanted to become a hero, it was far from enough.
He silently observed the only skill available, feeling a bitter smile welling up inside. However, as he switched to contemplating his future career path, a glimmer of hope appeared before him. The unique aspect of being a Wanderer lies in its extreme adaptability—having no specific expertise in any skill means he can shape himself into any form, with no restrictions on transitioning to other professions in the future.
This brought a sense of relief to Rayal, knowing that he was not locked into any one path and had limitless possibilities for the future. Whether it be a powerful mage, an agile thief, or a righteous knight, his future could be of his own making. This realization filled him with new anticipation and curiosity for the adventures that lay ahead.
As his mood gradually relaxed, Rayal's thoughts returned to the skill that had captivated him on the panel - Lethalization. This skill endowed him with the ability to turn ordinary objects into deadly weapons, without the need for fancy swords or expensive equipment. With just the simplest items at hand, he could gather enough power to threaten his enemies. This ability undoubtedly served as a strong support for breaking through obstacles and becoming a lone ranger.
Wanderer's identity may seem humble in the eyes of others, but it also signifies secrecy and freedom. As an unknown figure, he could gradually grow under the protection of the gods until one day he could change the world in his own way.
Just as Rayal was immersed in boundless thoughts about the future, an old woman approached carrying a pot of steaming hot porridge. The porridge emitted a gentle steam and a tempting fragrance, clearly prepared with care. In this world woven with magic and swordplay, a pot of home-cooked porridge exuded a warm feeling, as if it also contained an extraordinary power.
"Come and eat while it's hot," the old woman's voice interrupted his thoughts. The care and warmth that emanated from her ordinary actions caused ripples in Rayal's heart. He smiled slightly, set aside his contemplation of the skill panel, and reached for the hot porridge.
At this moment, Rayal deeply feels that no matter how difficult the future road may be, at least at this moment, he has found temporary peace and warmth. He looks at the kind and gentle face of the old woman, marked by the traces of time, and silently vows in his heart that he must use this strength to protect the people and things worth guarding in front of him and in the future.
Rayal picks up the spoon and eagerly tastes the porridge prepared by the kind old woman. However, the first mouthful is so hot that it takes his breath away, and he can't help but blow on it, his face momentarily flushing with a hint of embarrassment.
The old woman saw the situation and a hint of a tolerant smile appeared at the corner of her mouth. "Don't rush, there's still plenty. You can eat slowly, it's okay," she said in a low, rhythmic voice, like wind chimes in the distance, easing the impatience and restlessness in his heart.
Rayal set aside his eagerness and gently blew on the hot steam, stirring the porridge with the spoon to let the cold air blend in. The porridge's heat and the cold air intertwined, just like his experiences in this world - cold and hot, pain and joy, simplicity and complexity, all churning together in this small bowl. He began to chew slowly, feeling the delicacy of the rice grains and the warmth of the firewood in every mouthful, as if sensing the care of the old woman and the reality of this world.
"Take it slow, you still have a long way to go," the old woman said again, as if reminding him of the adventure he was about to embark on, and also encouraging him to face all difficulties.
Comment 0 Comment Count