Chương 5

He closed the status screen and started planning. The Beta would last two weeks in reality, which meant roughly six weeks inside the game. The level cap was set at 50. Rushing out to grind monsters right now felt entirely pointless. More importantly, Rudra was an IT guy, not a martial artist. Unlike the hardcore gamers who practically lived in VR simulators, he had absolutely zero experience fighting with actual weapons.

Running into a forest with a rusty sword and zero technique was a fantastic way to experience the game's pain sensors.

"No point grinding blindly," Rudra muttered.

"I need to learn how to fight first. Even barely." He stepped out from the alley and started walking. Slowly. He watched and observed the town of Seabreak. The settlement was lively. Wooden homes stood beside stone buildings weathered by the ocean wind. Market stalls lined the main street, selling fish, tools, and dried goods. A guy nearby sprinted past him, waving a basic wooden sword.

"FIRST BOSS CLEAR IS MINE!" The player immediately tripped over a loose cobblestone and crashed face-first into a rain barrel. Rudra looked away.

"... Yeah. No rush." As he walked, he noticed how disturbingly alive the town felt. An old man coughed into a rag. A child whined about eating vegetables. Nobody repeated their movements. Nobody looked fake. Rudra decided to test the waters. He approached a burly fisherman carrying a heavy wooden crate of crabs.

"Excuse me," Rudra said politely.

"Is there anywhere a beginner could find some work around here?" The fisherman stopped and squinted at Rudra's scrawny, Level 1 frame. His nose wrinkled in disgust.

"Work? With arms like twigs?" The fisherman snorted.

"Go catch sea-rats on the beach, boy. I've got a quota to meet, and you're in my way." The fisherman shoved past him, nearly knocking Rudra off balance. Rudra blinked. He actually had to squint to see the faint, floating name above the man's head just to confirm he wasn't a toxic player. Yep. NPC.

"Being Level 1 means zero respect," Rudra noted, rubbing his shoulder.

"These NPCs are unusually realistic." A sudden shout drew his attention toward a nearby merchant stall.

"Hey old man, hurry up already!" a player yelled, slamming his hand on the wooden counter. The merchant, a weathered man selling dried herbs, frowned deeply.

"Young man, if you want something, wait your turn."

"Bro, you're an NPC," the player laughed loudly, waving a few copper coins.

"Just sell me the stuff so I can go grind." Nearby NPCs stopped what they were doing. They exchanged subtle, quick glances. The merchant's expression hardened into absolute stone.

"No." The player blinked.

"What?"

"No." The merchant crossed his arms.

"I don't sell to rude customers. Leave my stall." The player stared in sheer disbelief.

"Wait—seriously?" If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. Rudra quietly watched from the shadows of an awning. The reaction bothered him. Not the NPC's reaction—that was totally deserved. It was the player. People really adapted fast to treating this world like a disposable vending machine.

"Guess manners still matter," Rudra scratched his jaw.

"Good to know." After another hour of wandering, he finally found what he was looking for. Near the edge of town, enclosed by a wooden palisade, was a training ground. He expected a tiny dirt patch with a couple of lazy guards. Instead, the camp was massive. Dozens of heavily armored soldiers were running drills, sparring, and maintaining wooden weapon racks in perfect synchronization. A wooden sign stood near the entrance: Murray Local Militia Training Registration - Fee: 2 Silver. Two silver was steep.

A beginner started with exactly ten. But training sounded infinitely safer than getting mauled by wild dogs in the woods. He walked over to a desk near the gate. A freckled, exhausted-looking woman in light chainmail was scribbling in a ledger.

"Registration?" she asked, not even bothering to look up.

"It's a seven-day training course. We focus on strength, stamina, and agility. Three full meals are provided every day. You report here at 6 AM..." Rudra didn't even hear the rest of the sentence. The moment she said 'three full meals,' he slapped two silver coins onto the desk. He had eaten nothing but hospital oatmeal for a month. He would fight a dragon right now for a decent steak.

"I'm in," Rudra said immediately.

"It's hard training," she added, finally sweeping the coins into a lockbox.

"Most people quit by day two."

"Alright," Rudra said. She paused, looking up to meet his red eyes. She studied him for a second, looking for the usual arrogant gamer attitude, and found none. She gave a small nod.

"... You'll fit in." Rudra stepped aside as more players started arriving. One. Then three. Then six. Can't believe there are actually guys who had the same idea as me, Rudra thought, leaning against a post. Guess not all players are idiots.

"Could this be a secret class opportunity?" a tall, nerdy player mumbled, looking directly at Rudra for validation. Rudra froze. He was terrible at small talk with strangers. He just gave the guy a stiff, awkward thumbs-up and immediately looked away, pretending to be fascinated by a wooden training dummy.

"Maybe the stats here can help me get famous," a girl nearby replied, crossing her arms.

"This shall be the place where my path to knighthood begins!" a huge guy yelled, butchering his roleplay.

"Path to real men!" shouted another overly muscular guy. Rudra stayed quiet. Gamers really loved to overthink things. They expected hidden legendary rewards just for signing up for boot camp. A few minutes later, heavy footsteps crunched against the dirt. The excited chatter died instantly. The man walking toward them silenced the crowd simply by existing. He was old, but solid like a brick wall. He had broad shoulders, grey hair, and a jagged scar cutting across his thick forearm.

He wore heavy armor as casually as a sweater, and his face looked completely unimpressed. He stopped in front of the gathered players. He looked at them, one by one. Slowly. He sighed. Nobody spoke.

"My name is Gareth Rowan," the old man said. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried easily on the wind.

"I served thirty years in the Murray Army. Now, I oversee this town." Gareth's sharp gaze swept across the players again. He crossed his thick arms.

"I'll be honest. Most of you won't last." Silence. Someone in the back shifted awkwardly.

"This training lasts seven days. It will hurt. You will complain. Some of you will quit." Gareth's eyes sharpened into daggers.

"And if you're here expecting an easy reward... leave now." Nobody moved. Rudra folded his arms, a slow grin spreading across his face. Interesting. Gareth nodded once.

"Good." A translucent window suddenly flashed in front of every player. [Quest Generated: Murray Militia Basic Training] [You have enrolled in militia training under retired Murray veteran Gareth Rowan. For the next 7 days, you will undergo harsh training to strengthen your body and mind.] [Clear Conditions: Complete the full training.] [Failure Condition: Quit training or Failing the Training.] [Reward: Increased Affinity with the Seabreak town soldiers, Varied Rewards based on Performance.] [Penalty for Failure: None] Rudra looked at the glowing screen, his face lighting up with excitement.