『Six years later』
The sun stood high over the fields, casting warm light across the rows of swaying green. A seventeen-year-old boy knelt in the loose soil, carefully plucking weeds from around sprouting vegetables. His lean frame moved with practiced efficiency, muscles subtly defined beneath his rough linen shirt. The hard lines of his abdomen—formed through years of labor—tensed and flexed with every movement, a silent testament to the work he'd poured into this land.
"Jake! Lunch is ready!" a voice called out from across the field.
The girl stood barefoot near the edge of the garden path, waving a hand over her head. Her hair was the color of sun-dried straw, braided loosely over one shoulder. Her name was Elia—Corin and Mara's daughter. Jake glanced up and offered a small nod, wiping his dirt-streaked hands on his trousers as he stood.
Six years had passed since he first stepped into this world.
The village—Lowsend—had become home, or something like it. A quiet place nestled against the forest's edge, where people woke with the dawn and lived close to the land. The world itself was called Theus.
Jake had learned much in those years.
Magic, as it was understood in Theus, followed several fundamental rules:
Mana is life: Every living being has mana.
Elemental magic : With enough training, a person could align their mana with a specific element—fire, water, earth, air, or even rarer elements like shadow, lightning, and void, though those need deeper understanding.
Non-Elemental Magic: Spells not bound to nature— enhancement, spatial manipulation, raw mana control for physical enhancements.
Circles and Runes: Casting advanced magic requires mental discipline, sigils, or runic arrays.
Skills: Abilities that grow with experience, focused training, or through moments of extreme duress. One could gain skills through a skill book which are usually expensive or have skills granted at birth.
Jake walked with Elia back toward the cottage, the midday air thick with pollen and the distant sound of bleating goats. Elia chatted casually about the upcoming harvest and how the village's well was finally being repaired. Her voice was light and easy, the way children who grew up without fear often spoke.
Jake nodded when appropriate, keeping pace beside her. His posture was relaxed, almost lazy, but his mind ticked through a quiet inventory—plants in the northern field were overwatered, a mole burrow was compromising the west crop, and someone had been watching the village from the southern ridge two nights ago. He had seen the glint of metal through the trees.
They reached the house—now larger than it had been six years ago. Corin had rebuilt the porch, repaired the coop, and added a second room. Jake had helped with all of it, hands calloused by hammer and hoe alike.
Inside, Mara had set the table. The air smelled of stew and spiced bread. Jake slid into his usual place, Elia beside him, Corin across.
"You finish that row, lad?" Corin asked between bites.
"Nearly," Jake replied, tone even.
"Finish it after lunch. And then take Elia to the forest edge. We need more blueleaf for Mara's poultice."
Jake nodded. "Got it."
Elia grinned. "I'll bring the basket."
...
..
.
The forest welcomed them with a whisper. Sunlight filtered through the canopy in fractured beams, dappling the mossy floor with gold and shadow. Elia hummed as she picked plants, crouching to inspect each leaf before snipping it free with a small iron knife.
Jake stood nearby, watching the trees more than the herbs.
"You ever think about leaving?" Elia asked, not looking up.
Jake's gaze flicked toward her. "Sometimes."
Beneath the mask of calm, Jake's inner world churned like a storm held in a glass jar. The memories never faded—of a life before this one, of screams, of blood. The killer still lived inside him, patient and waiting.
The village might think him a quiet farmboy, maybe a bit distant, maybe strange—but no one here had seen what he truly was.
...
..
.
Jake sat by the fire, sharpening his blade. Not the rusted knife from years ago—that had long been replaced with a fine steel dagger gifted by a traveling merchant in exchange for rare herbs Jake had risked his life to retrieve. It gleamed now in the firelight, its edge perfect.
Elia sat across the room, reading a book. Corin and Mara were asleep. The house was still.
Jake opened the system:
『 NAME: Jake Whisper
RACE: HUMAN
LEVEL: 17
EXP: 61 / 425
MANA: 85
SKILL: Godly Eye of the Killer (Lv. 3)
Shadow step (Lv3)
Antidote (Lv4)
Skill Glossary
STRENGTH: 15
STAMINA: 15
ENDURANCE: 26
INTELLIGENCE: 19
WILLPOWER: 31』
He closed it again with a thought.
There were rumors lately—raiders traveling the southern road. Men who burned villages. Monsters moving further north. If they came, Lowsend would not stand a chance.
Jake looked over at Elia. She had fallen asleep, the book resting on her lap, her breathing slow and even. She trusted him. They all did.
He would protect them. That's what they thought.
Unbeknownst to them that a killer is in their midst
...
..
.
The forest was quiet, the kind of quiet that made animals scarce and birds silent.
Jake crouched beside a fallen log, one hand resting on the rough bark, the other holding a curved hunting knife. His eyes scanned the underbrush, every movement fluid and controlled. The early morning mist still clung to the trees, curling like fingers around twisted roots.
He was tracking goblins again. Not for fun—never for fun. They were pests, always testing the edges of Lowsend's forest, breeding too fast and dying too slowly. The village didn't know how many he had killed over the years. It was better that way.
His bow rested on his back, arrows nestled in a leather quiver. He'd laced the tips with a mild paralysis poison—more than enough to bring down a goblin in seconds. He'd harvested the toxin himself, extracted from the yellow-root plants that grew deep in the marsh. It stung the skin and melted the nerves. Jake had tested it, of course.
Ahead, a rustle.
Jake froze.
Not goblins.
Voices.
Human.
He slid behind a tree, silent as breath, and leaned out just enough to see them.
Two men moved through the woods. Not hunters. Too loud, too heavy-footed. One carried a rusted cleaver across his back, the other had a crossbow with mismatched bolts in a cracked pouch. Their armor was piecemeal—leather, metal scraps, blood-stained cloth.
Jake narrowed his eyes.
Bandits.
He moved closer, his steps soundless. A patch of fern veiled him as he crouched just ten feet away.
The men stopped beside a tree marked with a red slash.
One of them spat into the dirt. "Village is just over that ridge. Soft folks. No walls. Should be easy pickings."
"Boss said we hit at dawn," the other said, adjusting his belt. "Burn what we can't carry. Teach 'em not to hold out."
Jake's jaw tightened.
Lowsend.
"They got a girl there," the first one snickered. "Blond hair. Saw her last time I passed through posing as a peddler. Might keep her alive for a bit."
The other man laughed.
Jake's hands curled into fists. The knife in his grip trembled—not with fear, but anticipation.
They turned and continued deeper into the woods, unaware.
Jake remained still until they were gone. Then he rose, expression unreadable.
『+9 EXP』
The hunt had changed.
No more goblins.
Tonight, he would prepare.
Tomorrow, he would kill.
...
..
.
After the field work, he returned just before dusk. The sky was painted with streaks of orange and bruised purple. Smoke drifted lazily from the cottage chimney, the scent of stew riding the air.
Elia stood outside, hanging herbs on a twine line. She smiled when she saw him. "Catch anything?"
Jake nodded. "A few goblins."
"Gross," she wrinkled her nose. "You always come back smelling like rot."
He didn't answer.
Inside, Corin greeted him with a clap on the shoulder. Mara offered a bowl and a smile. Jake ate in silence, his thoughts coiling inward.
They would all be asleep by nightfall.
He would not.
Jake sat alone in the small shed behind the house. The only light came from a lantern resting on a box. He'd locked the door, just in case.
Before him: his tools.
A second bow, black wood and bone-string. Arrows laid out like ribs on the worktable. He took each one, dipping the tips into a clay vial of dark green liquid—his strongest brew yet. Paralysis for a few minutes.
He tied them with red thread—his mark. For himself.
He rolled them in cloth and placed them in a separate quiver.
Then he stood and opened the system:
『 NAME: Jake Whisper
LEVEL: 17
EXP: 70 / 425
MANA: 85
SKILL: Godly Eye of the Killer (Lv. 3)
Shadow step (Lv. 3)
Antidote (Lv. 4)
Skill Glossary
STRENGTH: 15
STAMINA: 15
ENDURANCE: 26
INTELLIGENCE: 19
WILLPOWER: 31 』
He exhaled. Something like excitement stirred in his chest. Not joy. Not fear. A cold hunger.
He had waited six years.
Six god damn years.
Now blood would spill again.