"… "
Luka lay lifelessly in the carriage, his body slumped against the cushioned seat as his mind replayed every unfortunate event of the past few weeks.
It was a never-ending reel of frustration—getting his kills stolen, missing out on precious XP, and worst of all, his daily quests rewarding him with utter garbage.
Such as mere coins and clothing.
'A tunic…'
Luka still hadn't recovered from the sheer uselessness of that reward.
No stat boosts, no special effects—just fabric.
He'd have been better off looting corpses.
Despite his older sister apologizing nonstop—claiming it was just instinct that made her steal his kills—Luka felt betrayed.
Every time he tried to sneak away and farm XP alone, she would somehow find him.
It was like a twisted game of cat and mouse where he was the unfortunate prey.
A mental prison with no escape.
And now, after all that suffering, he was entering the official start of the game at a mere level 2.
Luka clenched his fists.
