Chapter 2

One wrong decision, a moment of greed, and being consumed by fantasies of creating weapons that nearly cost him his life deeply shook Samael. This experience left a lasting mark on him, but it also opened a new perspective — having learned from his mistake, he began examining everything unknown and strange using his abilities.

After all, in this fantastical world, not everything beautiful is safe. Just as there might be a monster hiding behind the facade of a treasure chest.

Leaving the corpse of the undead wolf behind, Samael moved on, heading toward a forest path he had spotted just moments earlier.

Before leaving the meadow, however, he tried to collect as many peculiar plants as possible. Thanks to his "Environment Analysis" skill, these proved to be especially intriguing. Samael tucked various flowers and plants into the pockets of his leather jacket, unable to resist the urge to gather them, even though time was pressing. After all, he had no shelter for the night, and if his experiences from video games were anything to go by, nighttime was no time for casual strolls.

When Samael reached the edge of the meadow, just beyond the last tufts of grass where the forest path began, he noticed something on the dark earth of the trail. Kneeling, he examined it more closely.

Samael's fingers touched the hard, dark soil, his gaze analyzing the nearest fragment of the path. The trail was straightforward to read, though not as easy as it might seem. It was packed down, devoid of vegetation, with distinct traces suggesting that someone—more than just animals or monsters—traveled it regularly.

This wasn't mere speculation. Samael spotted peculiar shapes, though time had tried to obscure them. Footprints, not fresh but still present, as if someone had left them there long before him. He hesitated briefly, listening to the forest's silence, trying to catch any sound that might draw his attention.

Unfortunately, the tracks led toward the clearing, and Samael could find no signs of any that went the opposite direction. His eyes roamed the path, as if searching for something that might stand out.

"At least I know the chances of encountering humans—or something resembling them—are pretty high. With a bit of luck, I might stumble upon a village."

Leaning on the stick he had used earlier to deal with the undead wolf, Samael stood up straight and began walking along the trail.

Following the beaten path, Samael carefully observed his surroundings. His favorite ability, "Environment Analysis," was working at full capacity. Though using it could be exhausting, his imagination was running wild. Thanks to books, series, movies, and games, he had a broad knowledge of monsters, which, however, fueled a mild paranoia, especially after his recent encounter with the undead wolf.

He couldn't rule out the possibility of encountering another undead creature soon. He wondered whether such beings arose automatically from dead creatures in this forest, or if the place itself was the source of their transformation. He also considered the possibility of a dungeon from which the wolf might have escaped. These theories fueled his curiosity and determination to examine every detail of the world around him.

Samael went so far as to thoroughly examine the trees, wondering if any of them might turn out to be an Ent—a living, intelligent being resembling a tree. He also considered whether their interiors could hide a dryad or some other monster, ready to attack.

However, this apparent paranoia had its positive sides. While analyzing even ordinary trees, which were plentiful in this forest, his reservoir of knowledge continuously expanded. For example, one tree, whose bark had a delicate gray-blue tint and leaves contrasting with a vibrant purple hue, turned out to be infused with acid magic. The cause of this unusual mutation was insects living in its roots, which somehow influenced the tree's structure. It bore the peculiar name "Acid Breath Tree."

The tree earned its name from its fruits—square-shaped, dark-gray apples. Eating such a fruit led to tragic consequences: the being that consumed it would start vomiting acid, which in most cases resulted in a painful and gruesome death.

Samael noted that the tree's potential applications were numerous. According to descriptions, the wood harvested from it had wide-ranging uses in alchemy, craftsmanship, rituals, and many other fields. Furthermore, the tree was remarkably flexible and supple, and its resin continued to secrete even years after a fragment was cut off. The resin itself was a highly toxic acid but also a prized ingredient. Items crafted from this tree gained bonuses to spells, runes, and acid-based attacks. Samael suspected that its potential applications could be far greater.

He regretted not having a backpack or the proper vials sturdy enough to collect even a bit of this precious resin. Even if he couldn't sell it, coating a weapon with such acid could significantly increase its lethality.

As for the forest's fauna, Samael observed many small creatures that from a distance could resemble their counterparts from his home world. However, upon closer inspection, they turned out to be grotesque hybrids. For example, small beings resembling squirrels but with long spider-like legs moved with unsettling agility, or birds with bodies covered in scales that emitted fluorescent light in the forest's dimness. These bizarre creatures were just the tip of the iceberg.

Samael also noticed a group of creatures resembling small foxes, but their tails ended in clusters of glowing mushrooms. Each step they took left behind a phosphorescent trail that slowly faded, as if absorbed by the ground. Strangely, these animals seemed to feed on insects attracted by the glow of their mushrooms—a natural trap. Truly fascinating creatures. Samael couldn't help but wonder what description might appear if he were to sever one of their luminous appendages.

In one of the denser thickets, he came across tiny, floating spheres of light—creatures resembling miniature jellyfish. Their translucent bodies pulsed with a soft, milky glow. They appeared almost ethereal, but when one of them floated too close to a small rodent, it unfurled numerous tiny, needle-like appendages and injected its prey with paralyzing venom. Samael couldn't suppress a slight shudder of disgust.

The most terrifying creature he encountered, however, was a figure he spotted in the distance. It looked like a tall, hunched figure draped in vines that wrapped around its entire body, except for its head and one hand. Its head was adorned with a deer skull, and in its bony hand, it held a peculiar, magical-looking staff. Samael had no intention of approaching it, so after considering his options, he decided to move away from the area as quickly as possible. Fortunately, he didn't have to leave the trail—simply quickening his pace was enough to increase the distance between himself and the eerie monster.

When it came to his gathering efforts, he limited himself to stuffing the more interesting plants into his pockets, though he decided to focus on plants with two specific properties. In his left pocket, he stuffed plants with medicinal properties that regenerated the consumer's physical endurance. In the other pocket, he stored plants that accelerated wound healing. This way, even if the plants mixed or turned into a mashed lump, they would still be usable.

After a long trek, Samael finally exited the dense, dark forest. Before him stretched a landscape where nature had given way to human efforts. On a small hill stood a village surrounded by a sturdy palisade made of thick, rough logs driven into the ground and connected by simple yet effective bindings. The palisade looked like a defensive structure, but far from elegant—it was more a product of necessity and determination than craftsmanship.

In front of the only gate, made of heavy, creaking wooden planks reinforced with iron fittings, stood two guards. Their armor was simple—leather jerkins with small metal inserts that were more intimidating than protective. On their heads, they wore helmets of primitive construction, and in their hands, they held long spears with slightly chipped blades. Despite their modest equipment, their posture was alert, and their gazes were steely, as if every traveler posed a potential threat.

Samael approached the gate, allowing himself a quick glance at the village beyond it. Inside, he spotted tightly arranged wooden cottages with thatched roofs, their walls covered in a layer of lime plaster. Near the houses, small gardens grew herbs and vegetables, while chickens and goats grazed here and there.

The villagers were mostly busy with their daily tasks—women carried buckets of water, children ran barefoot on the packed dirt, and an old man, leaning on a gnarled staff, sat on a bench in front of one of the cottages, chewing on something thoughtfully. However, what set this settlement apart from typical medieval villages were subtle touches of fantasy. Many of the residents weren't even human, and magical lanterns illuminated the area, alongside livestock with visibly warped or mutated physical features.

Samael paused by the guards, who raised their spears warily upon seeing the stranger. One of them, younger, with fair hair peeking out from under his helmet, looked at Samael with suspicion.

"Who are you, and what brings you to our village?" he asked in a firm, unfriendly tone, making it clear that intruders weren't welcomed with open arms.

The second guard, older and with a much sterner face, eyed Samael from head to toe, as if assessing whether he posed a threat. His hand tightened on the spear, not nervously, but firmly.

Samael raised his hands slightly in a gesture of peace, a faint smile playing on his lips—a mix of cunning and confidence.

"A traveling alchemist, seeking rest and information," he replied calmly, though his voice carried a hint of irony. "I'm not looking for trouble, especially not here."

Calling himself an alchemist without any real basis might have seemed arrogant and improper. However, as someone from another world, he couldn't exactly tell them the truth. Besides, the idea of becoming a sorcerer-alchemist had been lingering in his mind for the past hour. Creating a backstory that was hard to verify seemed like the perfect idea.

The guards exchanged glances, as if silently deliberating, before the younger one responded:

"Wait here. We'll speak to our headman first."

Samael sighed quietly, waiting for the guards to make their decision. In the meantime, he allowed himself to take a closer look at the village, analyzing every detail that might prove useful.

As Samael was traversing the forest, utilizing his "Environment Analysis" ability to examine objects within his immediate vicinity, he now noticed a clear limitation to his gift. When his gaze fell upon one particular item, he felt both fascination and frustration.

His attention was drawn to a staff that, though simple in shape, had something incredibly peculiar about it. It was an ordinary stick, capped with a semicircle, but its entire structure seemed as though it had been woven from numerous small vines, tightly intertwined to create a solid yet organic construction. However, that wasn't the only distinguishing feature— the staff seemed to emit a soft, purple glow that appeared in regular intervals, like the pulsing light of breath.

The old man holding this mysterious staff was over thirty meters away from Samael and was slowly moving farther. He was dressed in a plain, faded robe with a hood, and his figure exuded an aura of tranquility, though it concealed something unsettling.

Intrigued by the unusual artifact, Samael immediately wanted to take a closer look at the staff. He focused his attention and attempted to activate "Environment Analysis." However, to his surprise and irritation, no familiar screen with information appeared. His ability had failed.

Two theories came to Samael's mind. The first, less likely, suggested that the staff was somehow immune to analysis. The second, far more logical, indicated that the old man had simply crossed the maximum range at which his ability could function.

Samael ground his teeth, watching as the mysterious old man slowly disappeared behind another hut. The thought that something might have escaped his notice was irritating. However, he decided that at the first opportunity, he would learn more about this man and his peculiar staff— whether through conversation or other, less conventional means.

After a few minutes of tense waiting, the two guards, who had previously treated Samael coldly, returned to the gate.

Now, interestingly, both looked a bit embarrassed, as if unsure how to behave. One of them, the younger and more nervous one, cleared his throat, his gaze still wandering across the ground.

"Apologies for our earlier behavior," the second guard, older and more composed, finally spoke. "The village mayor would like to personally welcome you. Please, come with us."

Samael raised an eyebrow, feeling a faint sense of suspicion arise within him.

"Why would the mayor be so interested in someone who barely crossed the village gate?"

He looked again at the faces of the guards, particularly their eyes. There was something odd about them— a spark of excitement, almost as if they were proud to be escorting him. Though they didn't say it outright, Samael could sense there was more to their behavior. Had they bought his bluff that he was an alchemist?

"An alchemist. Yeah, sure. I wonder how long it'll take before they realize I barely know how to make tea, let alone potions."

He smirked to himself, maintaining a calm expression.

The guards led him through the village. It was a humble, almost poor place. Wooden houses built from rough-hewn logs and covered with simple thatched roofs looked as if they barely held together. Most of the homes were small, one- or two-room dwellings surrounded by fences made of branches. Simple farming tools, dried from years of use, were visible in the yards. The greenish runes carved into the fences around the little gardens were surprising.

People working around the houses stopped to glance at Samael. Men in simple tunics and trousers, women in dresses made from coarsely woven fabrics, all with rough hands and exhaustion written on their faces. Their clothes were often patched, and the colors faded by the sun. Children, barefoot and dirty, hid behind their mothers' skirts, peeking at the stranger with curiosity.

Samael, wearing a leather jacket and jeans, looked like someone from another world among them. His clothing, though far from elegant by his standards, here resembled the attire of a noble or someone of high status. The villagers looked at him with a mix of curiosity, respect, and a hint of fear.

Eventually, they reached the center of the village, where better-maintained buildings stood. The blacksmith's house, with the sounds of a hammer ringing out, stood out for its sturdy construction, with a brick chimney and wooden details on the porch. Next to it was the herbalist's house, surrounded by a small garden full of strange plants, with the scent of herbs in the air.

The mayor's house was the largest in the village. Built from solid logs, it had a gable roof covered in shingles and a wide veranda with wooden columns. Two old linden trees stood in front, casting shadows on the yard. The windows, though simple, were adorned with embroidered curtains, and the door was decorated with a carved ornament depicting hunting scenes.

The guards asked Samael to wait, and a moment later, the door opened wide. The mayor stepped onto the porch. He was a middle-aged man with graying hair and a short, neatly trimmed beard. He wore a simple but well-made tunic with embroidered patterns on the collar, suggesting that he was a wealthy man, at least by the standards of the village. His posture was upright, and his face wore an expression of polite respect.

"Welcome to Greenboost Village, Master Alchemist," he said, bowing slightly. "It is a great honor for us to host such a distinguished guest. I hope our hospitality meets your expectations."

Samael responded with a nod, trying not to betray his surprise.

"Distinguished guest? They really believe that... But why is the mayor so interested in my presence? This doesn't bode well," he thought, observing both the mayor and the structure behind him.

[Roger Greenboost(Mayor)]

Type: Human

Rank: E+

Level: 43

Class: Manager

Title: Greenboost Village Chief, Dictator, Monster, Pig

Ability:

[Quick count] (Temporary increase in mathematically based thought processes.)

[Intimidating look]

...

..

Debuff: Lacerated wound 

The skill "Environmental Analysis" once again proved its usefulness. Samael, casting a furtive glance at the mayor, read enough from the pop-up title and class fields to make an initial judgment about who he was dealing with.

Just this data alone said a lot. Roger was apparently responsible for this land and the people living on it. However, considering the state of the village—poverty, decaying buildings, and clear signs of neglect—Samael could easily draw conclusions about what kind of person the mayor was.

A typical ruler of a small patch of land, more concerned with his own comfort than the welfare of his subjects, he thought with a touch of irony. But while the image of the mayor he had formed in his mind was unflattering, it didn't matter much to him.

It's not my business how he rules. If I can gain something from it, I'm not going to waste it. Samael looked at the mayor, clearly searching for weaknesses. His charisma and confidence had to play a crucial role now.

In his mind, he was already putting together the perfect story to justify his solitude and the lack of any belongings. "A wonderful mix of truth and lies always works best," he thought. After all, the illusion of credibility was often the most powerful tool of manipulation.

Samael walked beside Mayor Roger, feeling conflicting emotions toward him. A sense of dislike pulsed deep within his soul, underscored by a cold analysis of every false note in the man's behavior. At the same time, something about the Mayor's posture, his confidence, and dominance, evoked an unwelcome hint of respect—tinged with envy, though Samael, despite knowing this, tried to maintain a serious expression.

The villagers hurried past them, avoiding eye contact. They were representatives of many races—short gnomes, whose rough, dark-smudged faces seemed tired of life, gaunt drakonids with wings, and humans with emaciated figures and eyes that reflected resignation. All of them, regardless of their origins, wore ragged clothes, their bodies marked by hard labor and malnutrition. Samael noticed children huddled in the shadows of buildings, playing with mud and stones, too thin to appear healthy.

The village was a picture of extreme poverty—houses in a state of alarming disrepair. The few animals he saw seemed as neglected as their owners. People looked at Samael with clear fear, as if a single wrong glance at Roger could bring down ruin upon them.

"So you say your carriage was attacked?" Roger asked in a soft, almost polite tone that seemed entirely out of place for his stature.

"Yes," Samael replied, feigning fatigue and resignation. "A pack of undead wolves. They struck at night before I could do anything. I only escaped because... well, I'm fast. But everything I had is gone. The carriage, alchemical equipment, even supplies. All I have left is what's on me."

Roger furrowed his brow, as though this story moved him, but Samael noticed his eyes quickly evaluating his posture and clothing. This seemed to reinforce his belief, as an additional light appeared in the man's eyes.

"It's truly unfortunate," Roger nodded, his voice filled with exaggerated concern. "But lucky for you, you ended up here. It's not an ideal place, but... we try to help travelers. People like you are needed here."

Samael gave him a sidelong glance. The man was clearly trying to keep him here, though he hadn't yet revealed his intentions.

"I appreciate the hospitality," Samael replied calmly. "But unfortunately, I can't stay long. I need to rebuild my resources, get back to work. People pay for good elixirs, even on the fringes of civilization."

Roger chuckled briefly, as if trying to win Samael over.

"Slow down, my friend. The world isn't going anywhere. In our village, you'll find a moment to rest. Maybe we can even organize something to help you start fresh."

Samael nodded, not revealing how carefully he was analyzing each of Roger's words. The man was scheming—this much was certain. But was it a plan to use Samael, or something more subtle?

They stopped in front of a dwelling that stood out in the village so much that it nearly hurt the eyes. It was a large, solid structure made of hewn stone, with wooden reinforcements. The wide doors looked new, and decorative planters rested on the windowsills—though filled with wilted plants, they still spoke of a desire for luxury.

"Please," Roger said, opening the door and inviting Samael with a gesture. "Here, you'll find rest."

Samael entered, prepared for the next round of the game.