Chapter 14: Cooldown

“Huff…”

The morning was cold, the mist in the air exhaled like white smoke with each breath.

Mace, double-handed axe, two daggers at my waist.

I carried a heavy pack, feeling a faint exhaustion.

But thinking of the price they might fetch in town, I silently rallied myself.

This trip earned far more than farming back home.

Morning light filtered through gaps in the canopy, casting spots of light on the verdant meadow.

Walking mechanically, my thoughts wandered.

About the now-dead Maji, I felt he didn’t have to go that far.

Though I’d absorbed eighteen years of my predecessor’s memories, the soul controlling this body was from a modern, civilized society.

Not to sound sanctimonious, but I felt Maji didn’t need to put on that generous act that day. He could’ve just stated his demands clearly, and we could’ve negotiated.

After all, we killed the bear goblin together. His two arrows triggered the [Deadline] ring’s “Deflection Force Field” cooldown and pierced its eye, paralyzing it.

That gave me the chance to kill it with my upgraded body.

His contribution was undeniable.

In that case, had Maji just said it, even if he wanted the enchanted ring, as long as I got my fair share, I’d have been fine with it.

To me, getting such a haul on my first adventure meant future missions with an experienced adventurer like Maji wouldn’t yield bad results either.

Looking back now, I realized I made two mistakes:

First, my mindset hadn’t fully adapted.

Despite transmigrating to this world, I still instinctively judged people and things with my old world’s values.

Maybe I should be more “down-to-earth”?

Second, I made assumptions without a clear understanding of adventuring matters.

For an old hunter like Maji to risk taking it all for himself, magic items in this world, or at least among low-tier adventurers like us, were far more precious than I’d imagined.

Time passed, the mist cleared.

The air warmed, the dense jungle thinning, with occasional man-made paths appearing.

Smoke rose in curls, and a few medieval-style brick houses came into view.

A clear stream wound along, where women dressed as farmwives squatted, washing clothes and laughing.

Two children played by the roadside—one wielding a crude wooden sword, face stern with righteous fervor; the other baring teeth and claws, mimicking a monster.

Having spent so long in the danger-filled Mist Forest, I, long isolated from people, felt my tense nerves ease at this scene of human warmth.

The town had the only nearby Adventurer’s Guild, and locals were clearly used to adventurers.

Seeing me, laden with bags, walking alone on the path, the two kids looked curious but stayed back, perhaps warned by their parents, watching me with wide eyes from a distance.

Fresh from the high-pressure dangers of the Mist Forest, I relaxed a bit.

Noticing the kids’ thin frames, looking malnourished and underfed, I pulled a piece of jerky from my pocket, broke it in half, and waved them over.

Seeing the jerky, their eyes lit up, and they scurried over.

Watching them wolf it down, I gently patted one’s head and asked casually:

“What are your names?”

“Moses.” “Fay…”

I nodded, about to speak, when an urgent, worried voice came from behind.

“Sir, sir, I’m sorry!”

Turning, I saw a blonde woman in an apron.

About thirty, full-figured, with freckles on her cheeks and two braids over her shoulders, her appearance simple.

Likely the boys’ mother, she appeared, and they ran to her.

“Didn’t I tell you not to talk to these… gentlemen?”

“But Mom, jerky!”

“No buts, not even for candy! Behave!”

Her deliberately hushed voice carried through the air, and my elation from leaving the Mist Forest began to cool.

Noticing my gaze, the woman quickly pulled her children behind her, ignoring the sweat from running, bowing repeatedly in apology:

“I’m sorry, sir, really sorry.”

I glanced at the two boys, silent behind their mother as if they’d committed some grave sin.

Looking at the woman’s tense face, forcing a stiff smile, I lost the urge to speak.

I waved my hand and turned to leave.

Meanwhile, not far from me, inside a house with closed doors and windows,

“So, boss, we doing this?”

A burly man with a dull face crouched awkwardly under the windowsill, whispering slyly.

“No rush, let’s observe more.”

The reply came from a fierce-looking man with a buzzcut.

“What’s to wait for? He’s alone!” The dull man sounded eager. “Hammers, axes—he’s got valuable stuff! If we don’t act, someone else will!”

He grabbed a pitchfork from the floor, ready to burst out.

A slap to the back of his head answered.

“You see he’s armed, right?”

The buzzcut man hissed.

“A guy walking boldly out of the Mist Forest, barely scratched.”

“You think he’s easy prey? Like you’d get all the good luck!”

The more he spoke, the surer he felt.

Leaning against the wall, he peered through the window crack, smugly telling his lackey:

“Look, the adventurers we usually see come in groups of three or five.”

“Even the lone ones are battered, barely escaping the forest alive.”

“How many have you seen strolling down the road like him, loaded with stuff, unafraid of being targeted?”

“Never seen it,” the dull man admitted, scratching his head.

“So, boss, what’s the plan?”

The buzzcut man glanced warily out the window, then looked away.

“This kid looks young but probably has something up his sleeve. Not easy to deal with.”

“Let it go this time. We’ll wait a couple days for a better target.”

“We’re leaving anyway. One big score, rob and run. Adventurers die all the time—toss the body in the forest, who’ll know?”

“Boss, I’m with you!”

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