***
Reserves:
HP: 131/209
MP: 40/52
SP: 60/109
***
It wasn't as low as I had feared, but something immediately felt wrong. My total stats should have been significantly higher. The Hero job was supposed to increase everything across the board, so why were these numbers so diminished? I looked closer at the Player Window, scrolling through my current active status, and that was when I understood the problem. My first job had changed. It was no longer Hero; it had been forcibly replaced by a job called Bandit. It had even reached Level 3 during the slaughter. My Hero job had also increased from Level 4 to Level 7, meaning the change likely occurred toward the end of the fight—most likely during the moment I began hunting down those who were trying to flee.
***
Bandit:
- A basic criminal job. You would be chased by governments.
- Strength increase (minor)
- Agility increase (minor)
- Dexterity increase (minor)
Skill: Rat
- You will be less likely to attract attention.
***
I had no intention of keeping such an ominous and low-tier job, especially when I needed my high stat bonuses and skill points back. I immediately navigated the interface and swapped my primary job back to Hero. The situation was truly bad, but the worst part was the state of my skill points. My remaining points were now listed as -63. I remembered hearing that when you acquire a criminal job, the world forces you to equip it. Since I had already spent my points on my experience skills, switching back to the high-quality Hero job pushed my point balance into the negative. Despite the debt, the moment I re-equipped the Hero job, my bonuses and total vitals surged.
***
Reserves:
HP: 203/323
MP: 62/80
SP: 91/166
***
I stared at the numbers in disbelief. My HP was over three hundred? My MP and SP were equally inflated. I could understand the HP and SP increases to some degree, as I had manually boosted my Vitality and Endurance to 10 earlier, but the mana increase was a surprise. It was definitely the Hero job’s doing. It provided "medium" bonuses to every single stat. I had expected a significant jump, but this was beyond my expectations. Of course, these numbers would drop again once I removed my stat enchantments to reclaim my experience bonus skills, but even so, this was on another level.
I noticed my HP had decreased by a total of 120 during the fight. I had used my healing skill five times, but even taking that into account, the actual physical damage I had sustained felt remarkably low. If I had to guess, this was the result of the Endurance stat. It was strange to think that it only influenced the SP pool; it clearly had a passive effect on how much damage my body could actually take. After confirming my status, I drank one MP potion and two HP potions. I followed them with a final cast of my healing skill. With the potions increasing my natural recovery speed, I felt my strength returning.
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Since there was no one left in the village to oppose me, I decided to look around for a bit. I searched the corpses littering the road to see if there was anything worth looting, but I found nothing of value. They were just villagers, after all. Searching them had become a reflex, a habit born from games I had played in my previous life. I didn't remember the names of those games anymore, but I remembered the logic: you become rich by collecting every copper and penny from every enemy you defeat. Since I seemed to be killing more people than monsters lately, those pennies would eventually add up.
I also made my way back into the inn, primarily to find the innkeeper who had helped orchestrate the hunt. I thought I might find a significant amount of coins in a business like this, but I only managed to find 45 silver coins tucked away in a drawer at the reception desk. I took them and sat in the quiet, empty lobby.
A few hours after the battle had ended, I heard a new noise coming from outside. I was certain it wasn't the villagers; they had suffered far too many consequences to try again so soon. I moved to a window and peered out toward the source of the sound. I spotted a group of people speaking with some of the surviving villagers. The people of the town were frantically gesturing and explaining the events of the morning. The massacre would be the main topic of conversation in this village for a decade, and I was sure they were giving a very detailed description of the "monster" they had encountered.
As I watched, I recognized a familiar face. It was the knight who had arrived after the bandit ambush on the road—the man who had led the rescue squad when it was already too late. I wondered then: was he my savior or my nemesis? This time, he wasn't just leading a group of twenty soldiers. He was accompanied by a proper, coherent party of six individuals who looked far more capable than common guards. I realized it was time to leave the village before they spotted me. They smelled like a different kind of trouble.
We arrived at the village only a few hours after the first light of dawn. We had been forced to travel through the darkness of the night to ensure we reached this location as early as possible. Normally, it is never recommended to travel mountain roads without a light source, but we were close to catching the tail of our target, and I couldn't risk him slipping away again.
I had received a direct order from my Lord to track and capture the man who had dared to attack his son within the city walls. It was an unthinkable act, and yet the man had somehow managed to fight his way past the guards and vanish into the forest. He was skilled, but he had displayed a strange sort of restraint; he hadn't killed the Young Lord, even if he had wounded his body and his pride. For the last ten days, I have been chasing him across the countryside with five companions specifically chosen for their ability to track and tail a target. We are a scouting party, designed to find what doesn't want to be found.
We had been receiving regular reports from various villages and towns, thanks to the Lord's quick decision to issue a search warrant and place a bounty on the man's head. Given that he was capable of killing the Young Lord’s two personal bodyguards and escaping a locked city, we knew the effort was justified. However, as I looked around the village, I began to fear that even this much effort might not be enough.
I have seen this man with my own eyes. I first encountered him when I led a rescue squad to a caravan under attack. The impression he left on me that day is something I will never forget. I had expected to find a few survivors huddled in fear or a group of bandits looting the wagons. Instead, I found a graveyard. There were so many corpses that for a moment I thought I had stumbled onto a battlefield between two small armies, though I have never personally participated in a full-scale war.
What made the scene truly haunting was the lack of a winning side. There were no bandits celebrating their loot, and no guards tending to their wounded. There was only one man. He was sitting in the middle of the carnage, his face and body entirely covered in blood, staring at us with an emotionless expression that chilled me to the bone. For a fleeting second, I wondered if he had been the one to kill every single person in that pass. I pushed the thought away when I saw that many of the dead were clearly bandits, but I remained wary. I had even half-unsheathed my sword before he raised his hands and proved he was a survivor, not an enemy.
He had explained that both sides had essentially annihilated each other, and he had simply been the one to finish off the last two bandits. He seemed remarkably relaxed, even after losing the people he was traveling with and his own slave. I had attributed it to shock at the time, but now I realize it was likely something else. A man who has the guts to strike the son of a Count in his own city is not a man who is easily shaken by death.
Because our target is so dangerous, I am being as careful as I can. We even brought along a specialized magic device designed to take a peek at a person’s job. These devices are extremely rare and valuable; the Lord only permitted its use because I am a Knight and would be leading the pursuit myself. Our kingdom lacks the expertise to create such things, so this particular device was imported from the Almiranth Kingdom to our west.
Almiranth is a land surrounded by mountains that forced its people to find creative ways to survive, leading to incredible advancements in magic and technology. They even have a significant population of dwarves who lend their craftsmanship to such devices. Having a tool that can identify a criminal’s job is a massive advantage. I saw with my own eyes that he was a Swordsman, but after hearing how he escaped Velshara, I suspect he may have a trick up his sleeve—or perhaps he has changed his job entirely to avoid detection.
[Edited]