As he walked through the bustling streets of Ustina, he noticed various shops and players busy with their activities again.
"Where can I find a potion shop?" he wondered, looking around for clues. He needed something to help him heal quickly after his recent battles.
While walking, his minimap updated, showing a nearby store. He followed the green marker and soon found a small shop with a sign that read Weakling Shop.
"Weakling Shop?" he exclaimed before stepping inside, a warm, herbal scent greeted him. The shelves were filled with colorful bottles. Potions for stamina, magic, and, most importantly, healing. It was exactly what he needed.
He approached the counter where the potion seller, an old man with a long crimson beard, smiled at him.
"Looks like you got yourself in a tough fight, kid," the potion seller said, eyeing Krad's condition. "You need a health potion, don't you?"
He sighed. "Do you have any potions that are cheap but effective?"
The potion seller nodded and retrieved a bottle from behind the counter. "This is the Quick Potion. It quickly regenerates 40% of your health points."
He checked the price.
Item: Quick Potion
Price: 20 Pesos
He paused to think about whether the potion would be effective before pulling out his money.
"Okay, I'll take one."
He immediately paid for the potion and wasted no time drinking it. He felt a warm energy spreading through his body as his health points gradually rose.
Health Points: _10_20_30_40_50_
"I feel much better," he said as he stretched his body.
The potion seller chuckled softly. "Good to hear, kid."
Krad hesitated, watching the old man closely. "Hey... do you know anything about this game?" he asked, lowering his voice.
The potion seller's smile faltered for a brief moment before he quickly composed himself.
"So," the potion seller murmured, his gaze sharp beneath his thick brows, "you're one of the Chosen, eh?"
He blinked, confused. "The Chosen? What does that mean?"
The old man waved a hand dismissively. "Ah, never mind that. You're just another lost player trying to survive, right?"
He frowned. "No, seriously. What are you talking about?"
The potion seller sighed as if debating whether to say more. "Look, kid. Whatever brought you here, you're not the first... and you won't be the last. But if you plan to last more than a few days, you'll need more than potions."
"What do you mean?"
"You need a Squad," the potion seller said firmly. "Strength in numbers, shared resources, specialized roles. It's the only way to make it in this game. Lone wolves don't last long."
Krad crossed his arms. "What if I don't want to join a squad?"
The potion seller's expression turned grim. "Then you'd better prepare for a short, painful adventure. This game isn't forgiving, and the monsters aren't your only enemies. Players can be far worse."
Krad's throat tightened. He'd already caught glimpses of the dangers lurking outside the city walls. But the thought of other players being a threat made his skin crawl.
"A Squad?" he asked hesitantly. "How do I even join one?"
The potion seller stroked his beard, his expression serious. "At your current level? It won't be easy. Even getting into a low-tier Squad might be a challenge."
He frowned. "Why's that?"
"Most Squads only accept players at Level 20 or higher," the old man explained. "And there's another thing. You'll need a permanent weapon. No one will take you seriously without one."
Krad furrowed his brow at what the potion seller said. "Permanent weapon? Isn't this fist enough?"
The potion seller froze, then slowly leaned forward, squinting at him as if trying to determine whether he was serious.
"Your… fists?" he ask in disbelief.
He nodded confidently, "Yeah. These fist took down 10 Devourer Slimes."
For a moment, the shop was silent. Then, the potion seller threw his head back and erupted into a booming laugh. It was the kind of laugh that made shelves shake and startled a nearby cat into bolting out the door.
"You... you're serious?" he wheezed, clutching his sides. "You're walking around fighting monsters with your bare hands? Kid, this isn't a tavern brawl!"
Krad frowned, crossing his arms defensively. "What's so funny? It worked. I beat them all!"
The potion seller wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. "Oh, I don't doubt it, kid. But fists? Against Devourer Slimes? That's like using a wooden sword to cut down a tree! Sure, you can do it, but why would you?"
"I don't need a weapon," he said stubbornly, flexing his fist. "These fists are my weapon!"
The potion seller grinned and leaned over the counter, stroking his beard thoughtfully.
"Alright, tough guy. Let me tell you something. Fists might work now, but what about when you face something bigger? Say… a Lava Serpent? Or a Titan Crab? You think your knuckles can crack armor or withstand molten lava?"
Krad opened his mouth to retort, then paused. The image of punching a crab the size of a wagon or trying to box with a fire-breathing serpent made him hesitate.
"I mean… I'd figure it out…"
The potion seller laughed even harder, slapping the counter.
"You're an optimistic one, I'll give you that! Listen, kid. You need a permanent weapon that can be upgraded as you grow stronger."
Krad pondered this. "So, I really need to work hard to reach Level 20 and get a permanent weapon. But where can I find such a weapon?"
The potion seller nodded and pulled out a map from behind the counter, he laid it out in front of him.
"Here," he said, tapping the map. "The Kingdom of Luntian. They're famous for their unique materials. Rare ores and enchanted gems that can be forged into permanent weapons. Weapons strong enough to last a lifetime, imbued with properties that grow alongside their wielder."
Krad scanned the location with his minimap. The Kingdom of Luntian were located in a remote area, filled with mystery and danger. But if he wanted to enter a squad and become stronger, he needed to face the challenge.
"I accept, I will do whatever it takes to obtain that permanent weapon and reach Level 20. Thank you, Old man." he said before leaving.
As he turned to leave, the potion seller's voice stopped him. "One last thing, kid."
He glanced back.
"Be careful who you trust---even in a Clan. Not everyone who smiles at you is a friend."
As he strode out of the shop, his figure fading into the bustling streets of Ustina, the potion seller's sharp gaze lingered on the door long after it closed.
"That kid…" he murmured, his voice low and thoughtful. He leaned back in his creaking chair, the steam from his tea curling lazily into the air. "No beginner should be able to take down 10 Devourer Slimes barehanded, no matter how reckless or stubborn they are."
The shop's door swung open, the small bell above it chiming softly. "I'm in need of a special tea, old man. The kind that can… enhance one's charisma, let's say."
The potion seller's eyes twinkled knowingly. "Ah, the Handsome Tea. A rare request, but I do keep some in stock for players who like to… make an impression."
The man smirked, leaning casually against the counter. "Not just any impression. If the stories are true, a single cup of this tea is enough to make any woman fall head over heels."
The potion seller's grin widened as he prepared a cup of the sought-after tea. He moved with practiced ease, but his sharp ears caught something peculiar. As he poured the steaming liquid into a delicate porcelain cup, the man's hand flicked toward his communication orb, which began to glow faintly.
The potion seller pretended not to notice, his hands busy with the tea, but his curiosity piqued.
"Mist," the man on the communication orb greeted, his voice firm and commanding. "What's the urgency?"
"There's a boy," Mist said, his voice low and cautious. "A Level 0 player. I saw him fighting 10 Devourer Slimes... barehanded."
The man's expression remained stoic, but his eyebrows raised slightly. "And he survived?"
"More than that," Mist replied. "He drank a Power Booster and managed to take them all down. No weapon. Just his fists."
The man's gaze hardened. "Impossible. Even a seasoned player would risk death using that potion without preparation. Are you sure?"
Mist nodded gravely. "I saw him myself."
The man leaned forward, her image shimmering in the orb. "This isn't something to take lightly, Mist. If what you're saying is true, that boy might be more than just a reckless novice. Keep an eye on him. I'll send someone to investigate."
Mist hesitated. "And if he becomes a threat?"
The man's eyes narrowed. "Then we'll deal with him accordingly."
The orb dimmed, its light fading until the room was silent once more.
Mist sighed. "You're an interesting one, Newbie," he muttered.
As he turned back to his tea, the potion seller's keen gaze lingered on him.
"You seem troubled," the potion seller said casually, though his tone hinted at deeper awareness. "What's this about a bare-fisted boy taking down Devourer Slimes?"
Mist sipped the Handsome Tea, a faint smile playing on his lips as the potion's subtle warmth coursed through him.
"Let's just say the kid's making waves. Big ones. Too big for a Level 0."
The potion seller's brows furrowed. He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "The last time I heard of someone breaking limits like that… well, it didn't end well."
Mist didn't respond immediately, his golden eyes scanning the shelves as though weighing his words. Finally, he placed the empty cup down with deliberate precision.
"Do you believe in fate, old man? That certain people are meant to shape the world, for better or worse?"
The potion seller scoffed lightly, though his expression betrayed a flicker of unease.
"Fate's a tricky thing. It can make heroes out of fools and monsters out of saints. That boy… if he's as unusual as you say, he might end up as both."
Mist nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps. But it's not just about him anymore. If he draws the attention of the higher powers, it could throw the balance into chaos."
The potion seller's gaze darkened.
"Higher powers, you say? You think they're watching already?"
Mist stood, brushing a hand through his shimmering hair.
"They're always watching. But this boy's antics might force their hand. And if that happens…" He paused, glancing at the door through which Krad had left. "...he'll need more than just fists."
The potion seller stroked his beard, the weight of Mist's words settling over him like a storm cloud.
"Then maybe it's time someone taught the kid what he's truly capable of."
Mist turned to leave, the ethereal glow of his cloak catching the dim light.
"Maybe," he agreed, though his tone was noncommittal.