As An approached the wooden walls of the Frontier Town, every step on the worn path felt as heavy as lead. He pulled his hood down even lower, trying to hide the pale skin and the yellow eyes that did not belong in this world. The air no longer carried the damp scent of the deep forest, but instead the smell of cooking smoke, animal manure, and the press of many unwashed human bodies.
Two guards stood lazily at the main gate, holding long spears with tarnished iron tips. They looked bored, their lazy eyes sweeping over the farmers herding rickety ox-carts into the town. No one was being stopped. A flicker of hope ignited in An. Perhaps he could slip in unnoticed.
He was wrong.
Just as he was about to slip past the gate, a spear shaft suddenly blocked his path.
"Hold it, kid."
The voice was rough and gruff. An lifted his head just enough to see the guard's bearded face and suspicious eyes.
"Where are you from?" the guard asked, his brow furrowing at An's ragged appearance and small stature. "You look like a sewer rat that just crawled out of some hole."
An's heart pounded in his chest. He tried to keep his voice steady, mimicking his own raspy tone. "I... came from the east," he said, his voice a quiet murmur, and raised a thin finger to point down the road. "Met... bandits."
The second guard, a younger man with an arrogant look, scoffed. "Another one. Probably from the caravan the Gray Wolves butchered. If you want to enter the town, you have to pay the fee. Two coins."
Two coins. A completely foreign concept. An stood still, not knowing what to do. He had nothing called a "coin."
Seeing his silence, the younger guard grew impatient. "What, no money? If you don't have money, then piss off back to the forest and play with the monsters."
In that moment of panic, the instincts of an analyst took over. An quickly activated his new skill, focusing on the two guards.
[Target: Gate Guard - Old]
[Level: 6]
[Analysis: Experienced, cautious, but greedy. Has a gambling addiction.]
[Target: Gate Guard - Young]
[Level: 5]
[Analysis: Arrogant, lazy, looks down on the weak. Unlikely to show mercy.]
The information was clear. He couldn't appeal to the younger guard for mercy. But the older one... had a weakness.
An took a breath, trying to stay calm. He slowly reached into the canvas bag at his side, careful not to make any sudden movements. He pulled out one of the two wolf fangs he had saved. It was large, sharp, and had a fearsome ivory-white color.
"I don't have money," he repeated, holding out the fang. "But I have this. A Forest Wolf's fang."
The older guard's eyes lit up slightly. He glanced around before quickly snatching the fang from An's hand, his expression remaining gruff.
"A wolf, eh? Gutsy, kid," he mumbled, slipping the fang into a small pouch at his hip. A fang like this could be sold to a craftsman or an apprentice alchemist for a few coins, more than the entrance fee.
"Consider yourself lucky," the old guard said, jerking his chin towards the town interior. "Get in, and don't cause any trouble."
The young guard shot An a disdainful look but said nothing more.
An quickly bowed his head and hurried through the gate, feeling as if he had just escaped a death sentence. The moment he stepped inside, a whole new world assaulted his senses. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, half-cooked food, horse manure, and the clamor of bustling noise. Two-story wooden houses were crammed together along a main road of mud and dirt. A blacksmith hammered on a red-hot piece of iron, the "clang, clang" sound echoing. Street vendors were hawking wares he couldn't recognize. Children ran around chasing each other, screaming.
This was the chaos of civilization. And it was overwhelming.
An quickly slipped into a small, dirty alley between two houses to catch his breath. He leaned against the rough wooden wall, trying to organize the flood of data in his head. He was inside. He had survived.
Now what?
He needed information. He needed a place to stay. And most importantly, he needed a way to survive in this new "ecosystem" without having to kill.
He glanced out at the main street. His eyes stopped on a building that was slightly larger than the others. A wooden sign carved with a crossed sword and shield hung from its door. Many dusty-looking people carrying weapons were going in and out of the building.
An focused, activating his skill on the sign.
[Name: Adventurer's Guild]
[Function: Provides quests, trades spoils of war, a gathering place for warriors and mercenaries.]
[Analytical Note: The best place for a stranger with combat skills to make a living and gather information.]
An looked down at the iron dagger at his belt and the remaining wolf fang in his bag. A plan began to form.
That was his next step.