Altair packed his worn-out leather bag, carefully stuffing it with the few supplies he had managed to gather—bundles of dried herbs, a handful of medicinal plants, a small pouch of dried mushrooms, and the remaining coins he had left. It wasn't much, but it was all he could afford. As his fingers traced the faded engravings and frayed edges of the bag, a melancholic smile played on his lips. This had once belonged to his father.
Before leaving, Altair made his way to the small graveyard on the outskirts of the village. Kneeling before his mother's simple tombstone, he let out a quiet sigh.
"Mother," he murmured, brushing away the dust that had gathered on the stone. "I wanted to see you again before I left." He hesitated for a moment before continuing, his voice softer now. "I… I think I have a chance. A real chance to survive. I found something—no, something found me. A system that can help me, but only if I have children to build a stronghold." He let out a soft, humorless chuckle. "Sounds crazy, doesn't it?"
The silence of the graveyard was his only answer.
He lowered his head, the weight of his decision pressing down on him. "I'll be leaving Cintra now. I don't know if I'll ever return. But if I can… I'll come back with something to protect myself. And…" He hesitated, his fingers curling into the dirt. "I'll try to find out what happened to Father. I don't expect much, but if I can at least know whether he's alive or dead… then maybe I can have some peace."
He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to stand. "Don't worry about me," he whispered before turning away. "I'll survive."
With that, he left Cintra Village behind.
—
Rather than taking the main road to town, Altair chose a longer route that passed through neighboring villages. He hoped to find orphaned children along the way—ones who had been left behind, with nowhere else to go.
The journey was difficult. The uneven, muddy roads made traveling slow, though he was thankful the skies had remained clear. Rain would have turned the path into an impassable mess.
The first village he passed, Alves Village, was eerily silent. The once lively settlement, where smoke had always curled from chimneys and children's laughter had echoed through the streets, was now abandoned. Empty houses with doors left ajar lined the dirt paths, their interiors stripped of anything valuable.
Altair already knew why.
Cintra, being closest to the mountains and forests, had been the first to feel the effects of the corrosion. As the land became barren, hunting had grown impossible, and even crops had begun to fail. Alves Village, being just a little farther, must have faced the same fate. The villagers likely fled before starvation could claim them.
He left without lingering.
The next two villages still had people, but only barely. Most of those who remained were farmers waiting for the last of their harvest before leaving for good. Though the harvest wouldn't be much, it was something—enough to sustain them on their journey to the capital.
Altair spoke to a few of them, asking about any orphaned children, but all he received were grim shakes of the head. Those without families had either left with other villagers or had already succumbed to hunger.
He clenched his fists. It was just as he feared—there wouldn't be many children left in these villages. If he wanted to find any, he would have to go to town.
But the town was still days away, especially since he was traveling on foot.
As he walked through the forested path, Altair's keen eyes spotted movement among the bushes. His instincts kicked in, honed from years of growing up in the mountains. He moved silently, crouching low as he observed a rabbit darting between the foliage. He readied his dagger, his muscles tensed, and with a swift, precise throw, the blade found its mark.
[You have gained 5 Kill Points.]
Altair's eyes widened slightly in surprise.
What…?So even animals count? He thought it was only referring to other humans or the Rust. The points were low, but it was still progress. Encouraged, he continued hunting as he walked, spotting a bird perched on a low branch. With another well-aimed throw, he struck it down.
[You have gained 5 Kill Points.]
A small smile crept onto his face.
He looked at his status window and there were already 10 kill points.
He was making progress. These points could be saved to buy potions or even abilities later on.
As he continued his journey, he foraged for berries and edible plants as well, ensuring he had enough sustenance to last him. When night fell, he climbed a tree to rest, choosing an elevated position for safety. It was his first time traveling alone, and caution was necessary. Sleep eluded him, his body tense for possible danger.
He didn't expect that his vigilance would pay off.
As he lay on a thick branch, he spotted movement below. Five figures moved stealthily through the darkness, their hushed laughter and whispered conversation carrying through the night air.
Bandits.
Ever since the corrosion began, humanity's enemies weren't just the Rust—the monstrous red creatures that plagued the land—but also the countless bandits and vagrants who had emerged. With resources dwindling, many turned to looting and plundering to survive. Even though the government tried to deal with them, their numbers never truly diminished. For every bandit that fell, another desperate soul took their place.
Altair strained his ears, listening carefully to their conversation.
"The surrounding villages are nearly deserted," one of the men muttered, tossing a piece of firewood into their small campfire. "Luckily, there are still some stubborn fools holding out in Cain and Berville Village. Easy targets. We'll be feasting again soon, and the boss will be pleased."
"Heh. Must be too hesitant to leave their homes," another chuckled darkly. "Since they've decided to stay, we might as well help ourselves to their food. No need to be polite, right?"
A third man snickered. "And there are women, too. We'll have a good time again after."
A burst of crude laughter erupted around the fire.
"Hahaha! Leader, the boss will definitely reward you for this. Not only food and supplies, but fresh—"
"Shut up, idiot!" the leader snapped, shooting the man a glare. "Don't jinx it." He exhaled sharply and grabbed a bag of stolen goods. "Come on, I'm starving. Let's cook that corn we swiped earlier."
Altair's grip on his dagger tightened. Scouts. That's what they were. Sent ahead to find weak targets before the rest of their gang descended upon the villages like vultures.
His stomach churned with disgust at their laughter. He had heard from other villagers before—how these bandits didn't just steal, but also slaughtered people and took advantage of the women. Some even resorted to cannibalism. If these men reported back, another village would suffer again.
His sharp gaze flicked toward their supplies—food, water, and weapons scattered carelessly around their camp. He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to stay calm.
I could try to warn their target… but wouldn't it be better to stop them from relaying the information in the first place?
An idea sparked in his mind. He silently opened the system store and scrolled through his options. His heart remained steady, but his mind raced.
If I play this right, I can save those people—and earn points while I'm at it.