Frost Valley City.
A hub city in the Northern Land. It wasn’t large in scale, but it appeared quite prosperous due to the constant coming and going of merchant caravans.
"The rent is one Silver Coin. I’m still short three copper plates."
Lorin flicked the nine coins on the ground helplessly, muttering to himself, "If I don’t find some work soon, I’ll be living on air in a few days."
He lived in a shack in the slums outside the city. He couldn’t find a cheaper place to stay than this.
Sleeping on the streets wasn’t an option here. With winter approaching, the outdoors could freeze a man alive. Moreover, passing merchant caravans wouldn’t mind picking up another cost-free commodity.
At the thought that he was about to be reduced to a slave only three months after transmigrating, Lorin couldn’t help but feel a wave of sorrow.
Originally, the original owner of this body had a stable job and some savings from helping caravans carry goods. Unexpectedly, an accident left him bedridden for nearly half a month. As a result, not only did no one dare to hire him for the time being, but all his savings were also taken by his previous landlord, forcing him to move to the slums outside the city.
Relying on the familiar face the original owner had built up over a decade in the city, Lorin took on some odd jobs for old patrons, which allowed him to barely eke out a living until now. But with more and more refugees flooding into the city recently, Lorin could barely even get his hands on those odd jobs anymore.
Some of these newly arrived refugees didn’t even ask for wages. As long as you spared them a few crumbs of food, they were willing to work for you all day long. Furthermore, because the city’s population was swelling, not only was the cost of essential food rising, but even the rent in the slums was going up.
Fortunately, heaven always left a way out. The cheat ability he received after transmigrating gave him a glimmer of hope.
"I originally wanted to wait until I could draw another prize, but now I have no choice but to venture out early," he muttered.
As he concentrated, a panel that only Lorin could see floated before his eyes.
[Name: Lorin]
[Age: 19]
[Race: Human]
[Power: 12]
[Agility: 11]
[Constitution: 9]
[Intelligence: 12]
[Charm: 11]
[Perception: 10]
[Exploration Experience: 91]
[Exploration Area: Frost Valley City (31%)]
[Rewards Obtained:]
[Lorin’s Burning Hand: Ignites your hands at extremely high temperatures. Don’t worry, this won’t hurt you.]
[Profanity Proficient: You have learned the profanities of all races. Go out and use them quickly!]
[Broken Sword: A Broken Sword.]
[Skills: Common Language (Mastery), Lock Picking (Skilled), Weight Carrying (Mastery), Climbing (Beginner), Street Fighting (Beginner), Stealth Action (Skilled)]
.....
By simply carrying out any exploration activity in this world, he could gain Exploration Experience. Using Exploration Experience allowed him to roll the dice of destiny, granting different random rewards depending on the roll.
This was his greatest reliance for surviving in this world. According to the original owner’s memories, this was a fantasy world that possessed Extraordinary Power. Not only were there Adventurers traveling far and wide, but there were also Mages in the Minstrels’ tales who could summon heavenly fires, Legendary Warriors who could fight a hundred men alone, and Druids who used the Power of Nature to transform into Beasts...
All of these utterly fascinated him and served as the hope that kept him enduring the bitter life in the slums.
"Sigh..."
The freezing room pulled Lorin’s thoughts back to reality, and he sighed silently. Only by obtaining the power to protect himself could he go out and explore this interesting world.
By relying on sneaking around and exploring residential houses in the city these past few nights, he had already rolled the 100-Point dice three times. The first two times, he rolled a single Point, drawing a Broken Sword and Profanity Proficient.
He could somewhat understand that. Bad luck, after all... It was normal to draw some junk. But when he finally managed to roll a five, what the hell was this rewarded Burning Hand!
With a thought from Lorin, his two palms instantly erupted into raging Flames. Just as the system described, he didn’t even feel a burning sensation; his palms just felt incredibly warm.
However, if he remembered correctly, this Magic should be able to shoot Flames out! What was the damn use of just having his hands on fire!
"Fine, at least I won’t have to worry about freezing to death in the winter..." Lorin forced a sense of optimism.
He shook his head, tossing away the chaotic thoughts filling his mind. He then stuffed the copper plates back into his pocket one by one and got up to leave the room.
A foul stench mixed with the frigid air struck Lorin right in the face, making his mind much clearer.
What greeted his eyes were all sorts of crooked shacks built from discarded wooden boards, some of which even still bore their original markings. The roofs were an even greater motley assortment—tattered canvas with holes, sun-dried animal skins, and some were even completely open to the sky. Either way, when it rained, it would be just as wet inside as outside.
Forming a stark contrast with these dilapidated houses was the distant sky, where powerful Mana twisted the clouds into a swirling vortex that looked extraordinarily gorgeous under the sunlight.
Lorin rubbed his nose and stepped over a man lying on the ground. He had no idea if the guy was passed out drunk or simply dead, as no one in this place cared about such things at all.
This world was entirely different from the one before he transmigrated. It seemed that the lives of the lower-class citizens here were not considered lives at all. Sometimes, Lorin truly wondered how there could still be so many people living in such a harsh environment.
He first found a Blacksmith shop and spent five Copper Coins to buy a brand new Leather Sword Scabbard for his rust-stained Broken Sword. This was clearly a very effective investment. At the very least, carrying a sword on his back made Lorin look the part—provided others could ignore his clothes that were riddled with holes.
Lorin walked along the city streets for a while longer until he finally arrived at the most famous tavern in Frost Valley City—the Furnace Tavern.
It was only morning, yet dozens of people had already gathered in the open space beside the tavern in a dense crowd. The caravan’s pack horses were tied to wooden posts, snorting out of boredom. Several merchants in leather coats huddled together, pointing at a parchment Scroll, while a line of people waiting for work squatted nearby.
Lorin squeezed through the crowd and made his way to a merchant caravan that was currently hiring.
The leader, a short and stout middle-aged man, was directing laborers to load goods onto a wagon. He looked up at him and waved his hand in disgust. "Lorin, right? You just recovered from your illness, and we have a long journey ahead. We wouldn’t dare take you."
Lorin sighed softly and didn’t make a fool of himself by pressing the matter.
He was just pondering whether he should invest a few copper plates to change into more decent clothes—which might increase his chances of getting hired—when he caught sight of a new caravan arriving not far away.
It consisted of six flatbed wagons covered in tarpaulins. Standing beside them was a tall, thin merchant who looked to be in his forties. Surrounded by a few guards, he was talking to several people who looked like Adventurers. Those Adventurers wore a mismatched array of Leather Armor. Their leader was also a middle-aged man with a deep complexion and a weather-beaten appearance.
Lorin quickly turned the corner and walked over.
"Are you hiring guards?"
The tall, thin merchant looked him up and down. His clothes were heavily torn, but he looked to have some strength. More importantly, he had a local accent and was clearly not with those three men.
"Can you read?"
"I can."
"Any injuries?"
"None."
"My name is Carl," the merchant said, pointing to the three men beside him. "It’s only a three-to-five-day journey. These guys are getting ten Silver Coins each. With your getup... you’ll get five Silver Coins and meals included. If you’re willing to do it, wait here a bit. I still need to find a few more people."
Although five Silver Coins was a bit less by comparison, Lorin knew very well that his equipment was clearly not in the same league as those Adventurers. Naturally, he gladly agreed.
"You look unfamiliar, my friend. Have you traveled with a caravan before?" the leading Adventurer suddenly interjected.
"I have," Lorin answered without any guilt. Helping a caravan carry goods counted as traveling with them, after all.
After waiting for quite a while longer, merchant Carl paced back and forth, taking out his pocket watch to check the time, looking very anxious.
Most of the people looking for work here were vagrants who dared to call themselves Adventurers just because they scrounged up a dagger or a small knife from who knows where. These people might not have had a full meal in months, and Carl clearly looked down on them. Someone like Lorin, who could swing a sword, was already considered elite, not to mention that his sword was a bit heavier than a normal person’s...
"We’re not waiting anymore. Load the wagons, get ready to leave." Carl made a hand gesture to the guards. The people squatting and sitting around stood up one after another and began to gather by the wagons.
Lorin stomped his numb feet on the ground. Just as he was about to follow, a sudden commotion broke out over by the tavern.
"Hey! Wait a minute... wait!"