Hal had never left Windrest before.
Not once.
His entire world had been the town square, his vendor stall, and the path to the fountain where he fetched water that no one ever drank. For years—maybe centuries in game time—he had existed in a perfect loop. But now, with Elia curled up on a straw mattress in the corner of his tiny home, the loop had shattered.
She coughed in her sleep.
It wasn't a scripted sound. Not ambient code. It was the sound of a child struggling with a cold night and not enough warmth. Hal rose from his stool and walked to the edge of the room. He didn't own a real blanket, just old merchant cloth. He draped it over her, hand trembling slightly.
The System had changed, yes. But this—this wasn't a patch note. This was... life.
The next morning, Hal stood at the edge of Windrest's eastern gate, clutching a wooden staff that still had a price tag dangling from it. He had never fought anything. Never even wanted to. But Elia had eaten the last of the bread, and the local baker—a low-level merchant NPC like himself—was out of dialogue loops. He'd tried three times already:
"Hello, friend! Fine morning, isn't it?"
"Out of flour until the next shipment from Oakfall."
"Good luck out there!"
No one remembered to code in an extra loaf for a vendor-turned-father.
Hal stepped beyond the gates.
The forest outside Windrest shimmered with early sunlight. Dew glistened on ferns and thick moss-covered stones. It was quiet—too quiet. The kind of silence that hummed with unseen danger. According to the adventurers who sometimes tossed half-eaten meals onto his counter, the starting forest was filled with Timber Crawlers—large, ratlike creatures with bark-colored fur and oversized teeth.
He didn't want to fight.
But he wanted Elia to eat.
Ten minutes in, Hal heard rustling.
He froze, heart hammering. Could he run? Should he?
A small creature crept from the bushes. Four-legged, hunched, with glinting yellow eyes and wooden-like fur that cracked when it moved. Its snout twitched. A Timber Crawler. Level 3.
Hal was Level 0.
"Back away," he whispered, more to himself than the beast.
It hissed.
He raised the staff.
The world seemed to slow. No tutorials. No blinking HUD. Just a man and a monster—and the sharp, visceral realization that he was utterly unprepared.
The Crawler lunged.
Hal swung. Clumsily. The staff connected with a sickening crack, and the creature tumbled sideways, dazed. Hal stumbled forward, tripped, landed hard on one knee, but forced himself upright.
The Crawler shrieked. Blood—red, not digital—dripped from its jaw.
Hal swung again. Again. A third time.
And it stopped moving.
[You have defeated: Timber Crawler – Level 3]
[You gain: 12 XP]
[You are now Level 1.]
[Stat points available: +3]
[New Skill Gained: Improvised Strike (Passive) – You gain +5% damage with non-standard weapons.]
Hal stared at the glowing notifications. They shimmered, pulsed—and then faded.
He felt no thrill. No joy.
He felt pain in his shoulder, shaking in his arms... and guilt.
"I'm sorry," he whispered to the still body.
But then he remembered Elia's tiny cough, and the way her stomach had grumbled last night—and he knew he'd do it again.
He slung the creature's body over his shoulder and turned back toward Windrest.
Elia looked at the Timber Crawler with wide, unblinking eyes. Her little fingers reached out and poked the creature's fur, then quickly pulled back.
"It's okay," Hal said gently. "It won't hurt you."
"Did you... kill it?" she asked softly.
Hal hesitated. "I did."
She didn't speak for a long moment. Then she nodded.
"Is that how you get food?"
"I think so. I'm... learning."
She gave a solemn little nod—too serious for someone so small.
Hal butchered the creature that night as best he could, using a chipped kitchen knife and old merchant instinct. The meat was tough, wild, but he cooked it over a fire in his hearth. The smell filled the little home like something holy.
Elia ate slowly, like it was sacred. Hal didn't eat until she was full.
That night, she fell asleep with a whisper.
"Thank you, Papa."
Hal didn't correct her.
He cried instead.
The following days brought more Timber Crawlers, more bruises, more fights. He gained another level. And then another. He put points into Vitality and Strength, unsure if that was what real adventurers did, but grateful for the little bit of endurance it gave him.
He asked questions, too—of adventurers, when they lingered.
"How do I get stronger?"
"Do you know where to learn healing magic?"
"Is there a way to craft warm clothing?"
Most ignored him. Some laughed.
Only one—a weathered archer named Lora—paused long enough to listen.
"You're just an NPC," she said. "Why're you asking about levels?"
"I'm... I have someone to protect."
Her eyes softened. "We all do. That's why we keep going."
She tossed him a bundle of cloth. A worn scarf, patched at the seams.
"Keep her warm," she said. "You're gonna need more than XP to raise a kid in this world."
One evening, Hal found Elia sitting by the stall, legs swinging off the edge. She'd arranged old coins into a clumsy flower shape. He sat beside her, letting the silence stretch.
"Were you always like this?" she asked quietly.
"Like what?"
"Nice. Brave."
He smiled. "I'm not brave, Elia."
"You went into the forest alone."
"Because you were hungry."
"That's still brave."
He didn't know what to say to that. So he just wrapped an arm around her and let the warmth of the fire drift between them.
For the first time since the world changed, Hal didn't feel like just a vendor.
He felt like something new.
Something more.
And that night, while Elia slept soundly in her bundle of donated cloth and merchant rags, Hal opened his skill tree for the first time.
It had changed.
Where once there had been only standard vendor passives—"Haggle," "Merchant's Smile," "Restock Inventory"—there was now a glowing new branch.
Path of the Caretaker (Unlocked)
"Those who fight for others unlock hidden strength."
[First Skill: Guardian's Resolve – When protecting an ally with lower HP, gain temporary bonus to Defense and Tenacity.]
Hal stared at it, then slowly selected the skill.
The interface shimmered, then disappeared.
He stood quietly in the dark.
And smiled.