[Status Window]
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Name: Cedric Veyne
Age: 17
Race: Human
Class: [None]
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Attributes:
[Strength]: 7
[Agility]: 9
[Endurance]: 6
[Intelligence]: 10
[Mana]: 15
[Charm]: 11
[Luck]: 2
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Skills:
◇ [Basic Swordsmanship] (E) – Bare minimum proficiency in wielding a sword.
◇ [Mana Manipulation] (F) – Struggles with controlling mana efficiently.
◇ [Steady Footwork] (E) – Can maintain balance in normal combat.
◇ [Basic Magic Theory] (D) – Understands fundamental magic principles.
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Status Effects:
✦ [Hunger] – Slight reduction in stamina recovery.
✦ [Drenched] – Mild discomfort.
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I opened my eyes and looked around, finding myself in that same drenched, miserable state I'd been in before passing out.
If this were the story of some fortunate protagonist, this would be the part where a kind stranger took him in, wrapped him in warm blankets, and offered a hot meal in front of a cozy fireplace.
But no.
The alley was just as cold, just as damp.
My bags were still beside me, soaked through.
No footprints in the mud, no signs of anyone having approached me.
No one had come.
I pushed myself up slowly, every muscle in my body protesting.
My stomach growled in protest, and the chill in my bones hadn't faded.
But at least I was awake. And still alive.
I wasn't expecting a savior.
So, I wouldn't be waiting for one.
But, as I looked at my status window, things seemed grimmer to me.
In the game, there were two main things that decided how far a person could go—Attributes and Skills.
Attributes were your base foundation.
Raw numbers that dictated your physical and mental potential.
Strength for physical power, Agility for speed and reflexes, Endurance for stamina and resilience.
Then there was Intelligence, which affected learning speed and magical theory, and Mana, the actual pool of energy one could tap into for spells.
Charm helped with social interactions, persuasion, even certain magical affinities.
And Luck… well, it was exactly what it sounded like—unpredictable and cruel.
Then came Skills.
Unlike Attributes, which were relatively hard to change without years of training or specialized items, Skills could be learned, refined, or even evolved.
They reflected experience and talent with specific actions or fields.
And in this world, a good set of Skills could make up for poor stats—sometimes.
I sighed, eyes narrowing at the numbers in front of me.
Seven Strength.
Nine Agility.
Six Endurance.
That was barely above an average villager.
Even my Charm wasn't particularly high.
And my Luck… two? That might as well be a cosmic joke.
I wouldn't be surprised if I tripped over my own feet and landed in a pile of manure five minutes from now.
The only redeeming factors were my Mana and Intelligence.
Fifteen and ten, respectively.
Decent, especially for someone without a class.
But raw mana didn't mean much without the skill to control it, and [Mana Manipulation (F)] said it all—struggled with controlling mana efficiently.
So much for natural talent.
I stared at the window for a few more seconds before closing it with a sigh.
The glow faded, replaced once again by the grey, grimy alley and the sound of distant footfalls on cobblestone.
Time to move.
I slung the damp bags over my shoulders and stepped out from the shadows into the fading light of evening.
The streets of Arkheim's outer district were busy, but no one paid me any mind.
Just another half-soaked teenager clinging to a thread of survival.
As I walked, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the handful of copper coins I had left.
They clinked together weakly—mocking, almost.
The standard currency here was divided into three basic denominations: copper, silver, and gold.
One gold was worth ten silver, and one silver was worth a hundred copper.
Even a single silver could feed a person for three days if spent wisely.
I had eighty-three copper.
Just enough to scrape by for a week if I stuck to bread crusts, cold soup, and maybe the occasional apple if it was bruised and the vendor was feeling generous.
But that didn't include renting a room.
A place to sleep safely?
That would run me a silver a night at best—and that was in the sketchy parts of town.
I didn't even have enough to last two days if I went that route.
No. I'd be sleeping on benches, under bridges, maybe back in this very alley again if things didn't turn around.
Still, for now, I had a bit of coin.
And I was still breathing.
That was something.
First, I have to survive this cold night with minimum spending.
***
I stared at the meager pile of coins in my hand. Eighty-three copper.
Not a lot. Barely anything, really.
But I'd played this game before—literally and figuratively.
I knew how the world worked, where to cut corners, and where even a single coin could stretch further than it should.
First priority: food.
I could endure the cold. I'd done it before. But hunger?
Hunger gnawed at your mind, dulled your reflexes, slowed your thoughts.
It turned people reckless.
And right now, recklessness would get me killed or worse—sent home in a pine box before I even had the chance to start.
Arkheim's outer district had its share of cheap vendors and cutthroat street merchants. Luckily, I remembered a particular stall from the game—a half-blind old man with a wheezing voice who sold stale bread and mystery stew for dirt cheap near the southern gate market.
I turned into a side street and headed that way, navigating the maze of alleyways until the scent of overcooked herbs and saltwater reached my nose.
There he was.
Same tattered red canopy, same mismatched pots steaming over a flickering flame.
"Bread's a copper. Stew's three. Don't ask what's in it," the man croaked without looking up.
A copper for bread was fair.
The stew… risky.
But I needed something warm.
I dropped four copper on the makeshift counter. "One of each."
He handed me a chunk of hard bread and a dented wooden bowl filled with thick, grayish-brown liquid.
I sat on an upturned crate nearby and started eating.
It wasn't good.
The bread was dry and tough, the stew tasted vaguely like boiled roots and maybe… shellfish?
Still, it was hot, and it filled my stomach.
Four copper spent. Seventy-nine left.
Next: water.
Most wells charged a fee in town.
But again—game knowledge.
I knew of a public fountain behind the Church of the Silver Flame.
It wasn't meant for drinking, technically, but the water was clean enough, and no one really guarded it.
I made my way there, passing through a quiet stretch of broken cobblestones and prayer flags.
The fountain was still there, the water trickling softly.
I knelt down, cupped my hands, and drank until I felt halfway human again.
Zero coins spent.
Shelter was the next problem.
I couldn't afford a room.
Not even close.
So I needed a place that was at least out of sight and partially dry.
Behind the old apothecary near the eastern wall, there was a collapsed stable.
Useless to the public, but in the game, it was a common hideout for early quests.
Crumbled walls, a broken roof—but the corner stall still had enough of a covering to keep the rain out.
I crept in and found the spot just as I remembered it—half-covered hay, a few splintered boards, and enough space to curl up without drawing attention.
I dropped my bags, huddled into the corner, and pulled one of the thinner books from the pack.
No magic tomes or spellbooks here—just an old academy handbook I'd picked up during registration.
If I couldn't train my body yet, I could at least train my mind.
I spent the next hour skimming through magical theory, mostly to refresh what I already knew.
Even small details mattered—mana channels, resonance control, spell construction.
It was all dry text now, but once I got my hands on proper material, this knowledge would give me a head start.
By the time the sun had fully set, I curled up with the handbook as a makeshift pillow and tried to get some rest.
I didn't sleep well.
Between the cold, the distant city noise, and the occasional rat scuttling nearby, it was more of a long nap interrupted every few minutes.
I leaned back against the rotting beam behind me, the straw rustling faintly beneath my weight. The alley outside had quieted, save for the distant clatter of hooves and the occasional drunken laugh echoing off stone.
Somewhere far above, past the soot-stained clouds and the towering spires of Arkheim, the stars were probably out.
I couldn't see them from here.
Didn't matter.
I sat in the dark, watching the faint light of the city flicker through the cracks in the wood.
There was a silence that settled in then—not peaceful, not heavy. Just… still.
Like the world itself was holding its breath.
Not for me. Not for anyone in particular.
Just waiting.
Waiting to see who moved first.
I felt a sense of accomplishment and superiority as the only person in this world to know what would happen in the future, and...how this world would eventually come to an end.
"Ain't I too cool?", I muttered to myself before losing myself over the beautiful flickering lights of the city.
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A/N :
Please comment down about your thoughts on the story.
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