The Mercenary Veteran

In the blink of an eye, three years passed.

Every day, I pushed myself deeper into the forest, testing my limits, sharpening my instincts and building my endurance.

I fought. I bled. I grew.

Wild beasts, prowling creatures; anything that moved became an opponent. I hunted, brought food back to my family, turned combat into survival and survival into instinct.

And yet, through it all…

The serpent never returned.

I wasn't sure if that should make me relieved ....or uneasy.

But right now? That didn't matter.

I swung my sword, slicing through the empty air. Faster. Harder. Cleaner. The wooden blade whistled as I moved, each strike sharper, each motion seamless. 

Around me, the forest echoed with the sound of rustling of leaves, the distant calls of birds, the rhythmic thud of my feet shifting through the dirt.

My breathing was steady. My grip firm.

I was stronger now.

I had grown. Taller, leaner, faster. My scrawny were no longer scrawny, my stamina was leagues above what it had been, and my reflexes? Even Lily had trouble landing hits on me now.

I exhaled sharply, adjusting my stance.

"Status," I muttered to myself.

==============================

Name: Alex, Son of Gerald

Age: 8 years old

== Overall Stats ==

Strength: 16 (+7)

Agility: 14 (+5)

Stamina: 18 (+11)

Mana: 3 (+1)

Charisma: 6 (+1)

== Traits ==

Determination (Level 4), Focus (Level 4), Survival (Level 3), Pain Tolerance (Level 2), [■■■■■]

== Skills ==

Sword Apprentice (Level 8), Thrust (Level 4), Slash (Level 4), Evasion (Level 2), Acrobatics (Level 2), Detection (Level 1), Carving (Level 1)

==============================

I exhaled slowly, my heart pounding.

…it wasn't enough. I had seen true strength.

Before that serpent, I was nothing. The encounter had burned itself into my soul. No matter how much I trained, my memory of it reminded me that I was still small.

Still weak.

Grinding my teeth, I let the status screen fade away and resumed my training. I fell into a steady rhythm, swinging my wooden sword in perfect arcs.

"1,011… 1,012… 1,013…"

Then I heard it.

A low, pained groan.

I froze, my breath hitching. The sound was distinct. Someone was hurt.

I turned my head, scanning the trees, my senses sharpening. My body moved before my mind fully processed it.

I ran toward the sound, moving cautiously through the undergrowth until I stumbled upon a scene that stopped me in my tracks. There, lying among the roots of a gnarled tree, was a man: battered, bloodied, barely conscious. His clothes were torn, his skin marred by scratches and bruises.

We never had visitors.

Who was he?

What had happened to him?

Would he be able to tell me about this world?

Questions could wait. If I didn't act now, he would die.

I knelt beside him, assessing his injuries with a practiced eye. His leg was broken—badly. There was swelling near his ribs, possibly fractured. Deep cuts marred his arms, his body battered and weak.

I moved quickly, calling on the survival skills I had honed over the years. Splints. Bandages. Wound dressing.

My hands worked with precision, wrapping his injuries carefully. As I pulled a strip of cloth tight, the man let out a sharp hiss of pain.

His eyes fluttered open.

For the briefest moment, our gazes locked.

Awareness. Recognition. Gratitude. Fear.

Then, his eyes rolled back, and he slumped into unconsciousness again.

Damn it.

I needed to get him back to the village.

I took a deep breath, bracing myself. Then, with a grunt, I hoisted him onto my back.

He was heavy.

Much heavier than I expected.

I staggered, nearly toppling over as my legs screamed in protest. My knees buckled, and for a brief, horrifying second, I thought I was going to face-plant into the dirt.

Nope. Not happening. Not today.

I forced my legs to move. One step. Then another.

[Experience Gained: Stamina (+1)]

I barely registered the notification.

I just focused on moving forward.

....

As I stumbled into the outskirts of Havenwood, the reaction was immediate.

Gasps. Shouts. People rushing toward me.

"Alex?! What happened?"

"Who is that?"

"Gods above, what happened to him?"

Hands pulled the injured man from my back, lifting him onto a makeshift cot.

The village healer, Elara, appeared at my side, her sharp eyes scanning the unconscious man. "He's in bad shape," she murmured. "But you stabilized him well. If you hadn't found him…" She trailed off, shaking her head.

I said nothing, still catching my breath.

The villagers whispered among themselves.

A stranger. Here.

It had never happened before.

....

Over the following days, I spent hours by the man's side, assisting Elara and tending to his needs. Each day, I carefully changed the man's bandages, mindful of his fragile state.

The once-white cloths quickly stained with traces of his ordeal. I took my time, ensuring each movement was steady and precise, as Elara had taught me. His wounds needed protection against infection, and I wanted to do everything in my power to aide in his recovery.

At regular intervals, I also dampened a cloth with cool water and gently wiped his forehead and brow. The damp fabric seemed to offer him small comfort in his fevered slumber. 

It was exhausting work, but I didn't stop.

As he slowly regained consciousness, our interactions were limited to brief moments of eye contact and the occasional murmur of gratitude.

He was a man of few words, his eyes reflecting a mix of pain and appreciation. And yet, there was something in his gaze that suggested there was more to him than he was letting on.

As the man's strength began to return, he would watch me from his cot, his gaze thoughtful and intense. It was during one of these moments that he finally spoke. His voice rough. Hoarse.

"You... saved my life," he said, his words carrying a heavy weight.

I met his gaze, my own expression solemn. "It was the least I could do. You were hurt, and I couldn't just leave you there."

He nodded, his feverish gaze unnervingly never leaving mine. "Thank you. Most wouldn't have saved me. Now, I need to ask: why were you in that dangerous forest?"

I hesitated, my mind racing. I'll give him an honest answer. "I'm learning to survive in this world. It's not easy, but I've adapted."

He offered a faint smile, his eyes holding a glimmer of understanding. "Survival requires strength, but it also requires more. It takes experience. Luck." His smile turned into a slight frown, "Luck which I never seemed to have throughout my journey."

His eyes rose up to meet mine once more. After some consideration and a small grin, he said words that tripled my heart rate. "How much do you know about this world, beyond your village?"