Chapter 156 The Dice

Jimmy felt no shame over his change of heart.

In truth, he had experienced something similar long ago, back when he was just a rural toddler who couldn't even tell a frog from a toad.

He remembered the second son of a family in the village. The young man had gotten lucky and followed a caravan to Nym, landing a decent job. He sent a lot of money home every month, and during the holidays, he would often bring back novelties from the big city for his younger brother.

Even today, many years later, Jimmy still remembered that little kid with two trails of snot hanging over his lip. He had stood on a rock by the pond, a smug smile plastered across his face as he showed off the toy his older brother had brought back from Nym.

It was called a toy, but to Jimmy now, it was nothing more than a reasonably well-crafted six-sided die.

Back then, he hadn't thought it looked particularly nice, either.

At the very least, it wasn't nearly as pleasing to the eye as the wooden sword his father had whittled for him.

He also completely failed to understand why a tiny die no bigger than a thumb—something that would be lost forever if tossed into the grass—could make his companions gather around the little kid with such fanatical zeal.

Was it simply because of its special status, having come from Nym?

It wasn't until later, as the little kid showed it off in front of everyone again and again, that more and more children gathered around him.

Standing in the crowd, Jimmy watched the six-sided clay die spin through the air and hit the ground, producing a crisp clatter against the gravel.

Feeling the envious gazes of everyone around him, Jimmy, gripping his wooden sword, felt his thoughts faintly begin to shift.

Then, after getting the little kid's nod of approval, he stepped forward under the eager eyes of his playmates to pick the die up from the ground.

It was his first time feeling the cold touch of the die's surface, his first time seeing the intricate patterns on its faces that, back then, seemed peerlessly exquisite.

It was at that exact moment that Jimmy finally realized the beauty of that die.

Speaking of which, it had been many days since his older cousin had last shown him that statue.

He usually hid it in his shirt like some precious treasure, never letting it leave his side, not even when sleeping or going to the bathroom.

Only occasionally, when Jimmy woke up groggy in the middle of the night, would he see his older cousin sitting alone in the corner of the camp, staring blankly as he stroked the wooden carving by the firelight.

But even so, he still clearly remembered the statue's natural, flowing lines and textures, that upright figure resembling a cross between a goat and a deer, and those two horns winding upward until they disappeared into...

"Green, where are you going?"

A gruff, slightly drunken voice snapped Jimmy back to reality.

Looking over, he saw a red-faced, heavily bearded brute across the campfire calling out to a figure that was gradually walking away and vanishing into the edge of the camp.

"Taking a piss? Wait up, hic... I'll come with you!"

"It was that kid Jack's turn to set the perimeter traps today. I don't quite trust him, so I'm going to double-check them. You guys keep drinking," Green replied.

"Fuck, damn Jack," the bearded brute muttered, sitting back down.

"If you ask me, Green has just spent too much time in the Misty Forest. He's not used to this," another equally drunk traveler said with narrowed eyes, half-lying on a cushion nearby. "I run this trade route a few times every year. Forget monsters, you barely even see wild boars out here. It's safer than my own backyard."

"Heh, the guy spends nearly the entire Hunting Day soaked in that forest. What do you expect?"

"No wonder he reeks of blood. He can't even wash it off. He's like Greenblood—the stench is basically pickled into him."

It was nothing but idle chatter, but hearing this, the bearded brute seemed to remember something and suddenly perked up.

Lowering his voice, he cast a meaningful glance toward the carriage parked not far away.

"Speaking of Greenblood, we've got someone in our caravan who has a bit of history with her..."

"Tsk, tsk. Greysword," an adventurer smacked his lips in envy. "I hear he's already obtained a Class Level. He's not the same kind of person as us anymore."

"Greysword!?" another traveler exclaimed in surprise, as not everyone was so well-informed.

"The guy with the black hair? He's that young?"

"Then we have even less to worry about!"

"With a proper Class Holder holding down the fort in our caravan, what kind of danger could we possibly face in the Earth Realm?"

Although it was drunken rambling, the man's words weren't entirely without reason.

At present, the caravan was traveling on the road from Rivervale Town to Nym. Although they were traversing the Wilderness, they frequently encountered passing travelers and merchant caravans, and they would spot a small village every few days.

Even at night, there were basically no dangerous monsters roaming around.

And even if they were attacked, it would be nothing more than some disorganized bandits or a dozen or two goblins at most.

The escort guards would resolve the issue without Xia Nan, the sole Class Holder in the caravan, even having to lift a finger.

It could be considered quite safe.

There wasn't much in the way of entertainment during the long nights on the road. The topics of Greenblood, Greysword, and Class Holders piqued their interest. Full of energy and nowhere to vent it, the adventurers drunkenly and eagerly gossiped away.

Of course, expecting these burly, uneducated men to discuss anything profound was impossible.

In the end, their conversation always circled back to the same few things:

"Gold," "women," "monsters"...

And the most classic pastime of all: bragging.

"The year before last, I followed my older brother up toward the tundra. I've never seen such heavy snow in my life. The whole town looked like it was coated in a layer of frost."

"Whoa, can people even live in that? Weren't they all freezing to death?"

"Heh, believe it or not, they can. And the women in those villages..."

Jimmy was listening intently when he noticed the bearded brute with the wicked grin suddenly turn his head, as if sensing his gaze.

'Oh no,' he thought.

He hastily averted his eyes and lowered his head, pretending he hadn't seen anything.

Unfortunately, it was too late.

"Boy, you're listening so closely..."

"Never tasted a woman before?"

Jimmy was a complete greenhorn. He hadn't even spent a few days in Rivervale Town before getting dragged out here.

Any adventurer with a lick of experience could smell the innocence on him.

And Jimmy's seemingly timid demeanor only spurred the seasoned veterans across the campfire to tease him.

"Haha, why are you blushing? You look like a bashful little maiden."

"With a frail frame like that, his back would snap if he let those wild northern women ride him a few times."

"Come here, boy. I'll teach you a few tricks. I guarantee when you get back..."

The sudden jeering drew the converging stares of the surrounding travelers.

If it were an adventurer with a bit more experience, they would have just laughed it off, cracked a joke in return, or even cursed right back, and the topic would have blown over.

But Jimmy, facing this kind of situation for the first time, was completely at a loss.

He hadn't touched a drop of alcohol, but his face was flushed beet red.

He reached for the one-handed sword at his waist, but the moment his fingers brushed the hilt, he recoiled as if he'd been shocked.

Planting his hands on the ground, he subconsciously scooted back.

Seeking help out of pure instinct, he glanced at his older cousin beside him, hoping the fellow adventurer would bail him out.

But he found that his older cousin seemed completely oblivious to everything happening around them. The man just sat motionless by the fire, staring blankly at the bundle in his hands.

His gaze looked as if it could pierce right through the thick cloth of the bag to see the grayish-black statue inside.

"Hahaha, is the boy actually embarrassed?"

"Don't be scared! It's not like we're gonna eat you!"

"..."

Jimmy's panic and helpless movements only drew another roar of laughter, accompanied by a barrage of vulgar remarks and flying spit.

Blood rushed to his head, and for a brief moment, he seemed to fall into a daze.

The orange-red firelight illuminated the bearded brute's face, exposing his foul-smelling, yellowish-brown rotten teeth.

The man's lips were moving, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as if he were saying something, but to Jimmy's ears, it was all just an incomprehensible static.

His mind went entirely blank.

Thwip—

Then came a sharp, piercing whistle that tore through the air, instantly silencing the raucous laughter and plunging the entire camp into dead quiet.

Thwack.

It was the dull, heavy sound of a sharp object piercing flesh.

The arrow shaft vibrated wildly, its fletching blurring into a phantom image.

The bearded brute still had that wicked grin plastered on his face, but his entire body had frozen in place.

A wooden arrow shot from the dark night had pierced his temple, sinking straight into his skull.

Thud.

A muffled sound echoed as the corpse collapsed to the ground.

"Enemy attack!!!!!"

...

Jimmy had already forgotten what his very first thought was in that moment.

Perhaps it was relief at finally escaping his embarrassing predicament, or perhaps it was the sheer panic of a sudden ambush.

He merely gripped his brand-new one-handed sword and, running around aimlessly, mindlessly followed the surrounding crowd as they sprinted toward who-knew-where.

After taking a few steps, as if suddenly remembering something, he looked back toward his older cousin's spot.

But there was only empty space.

'Did he run away first?' he wondered.

And in those few seconds of hesitation, roars and curses rippled through the pitch-black night, accompanied by the faint clash of metal.

'What should I do?'

Chaotic thoughts flooded his mind. Jimmy, who had never been in a battle and hadn't even killed a single goblin, was completely lost, with no idea what to do.

Should he charge toward the sounds of fighting to help, or should he just run and find a place to hide?

For some reason, at that exact moment, his eyes abruptly turned toward the other side of the camp, where the carriage was parked.

His older cousin's prior warnings, along with the hushed whispers of the adventurers from earlier, inexplicably surfaced in his mind.

"Class Holder"... "Greysword"...

Perhaps...

But just as Jimmy acted on instinct and took his first step toward the carriage...

The sound of rapidly approaching hoofbeats suddenly rang in his ears.

Reacting purely on reflex, he whirled around.

What met his eyes was a towering silhouette blurred by the darkness. A fierce-looking, fully armed man sat atop a horse, the lance in his hand glinting coldly under the firelight.

He didn't dodge, nor did he initiate an attack.

Jimmy only had time to raise his blade defensively in front of him.

Clang!

The next second, an immense force transmitted through the hilt.

Losing his balance, he stumbled back several paces and tripped over something.

He lost his footing and fell backward onto the ground.

Perhaps it was a rock.

Jimmy only felt the back of his head suddenly slam into something hard.

Buzz—

Accompanied by a burst of agonizing pain, darkness swallowed his vision like a tidal wave.

He lost consciousness.

Fortunately, although he had completely lost control of his body, he seemed to retain a sliver of awareness.

His eyes were shut tight and refused to open, but his other senses seemed to have grown far sharper in the darkness.

The hot, foul-smelling breath snorted out by the horse; the faint tremors of the earth as iron hooves stepped right by his ear.

The rider didn't follow up with a killing blow, and the hoofbeats faded away once more.

Yet the frigid air remained filled with roars and curses.

'We must be under attack by bandits.'

Recalling the hasty glimpse he'd caught of that towering figure on horseback...

Jimmy, despite losing control of his body, ironically regained his composure in this moment.

'Can we win?'

'We probably... can, right?'

He guessed inwardly.

But as time passed, the sounds of combat ringing in his ears showed no signs of stopping. If anything, they grew even more intense.

Jimmy knew that meant the two sides were evenly matched, locked in a stalemate.

This realization caused his heart to twist with anxiety.

That is, until a long, resounding wolf howl suddenly echoed from the distance.

Awooo—

'Is it the wild wolves of the Wilderness, drawn by the smell of blood?'

Jimmy couldn't help but feel an even deeper despair.

These vicious beasts roaming the darkness and shadows wouldn't care who was good or bad. They would treat every living creature made of flesh and blood—himself included—as dinner, tearing them apart and swallowing them whole.

Yet to his surprise, with the sounding of the wolf howl, several cries of agony and despair suddenly joined the cacophony of enraged shouts and curses. He could faintly hear someone screaming words like "Retreat!"

A fierce wind howled.

Then came another rapid, dense flurry of cold, slicing noises as sharp blades cut through flesh.

The pain radiating from the back of his head deepened, and his previously lucid consciousness began to cloud.

An indescribable drowsiness swallowed his mind, and Jimmy finally passed out completely.

He didn't know how much time had passed.

When he woke up again, the sounds of battle, steeped in iron and blood, had already vanished.

Replacing them was the subtle rustling of the battlefield being cleared.

Struggling to his feet, he could faintly see a few familiar figures out in the distant Wilderness, holding up torches and rummaging through the corpses.

'I survived.'

Realizing the battle was over, Jimmy let out a sigh of relief.

The back of his head still throbbed. He reached up to touch it, coming away with a hand full of blood.

He turned his body, wanting to call for help.

But out of the corner of his eye, he suddenly caught sight of something, and his entire body froze.

Only now did he finally see what he had tripped over earlier.

It wasn't the rock or branch he had imagined.

It was a corpse lying quietly on the ground.

Its neck had been cleaved by a sharp blade, held on by only a flap of bloody skin as its head dangled backward over its chest.

'Older Cousin?'

Jimmy recognized the man's identity.

But what struck even him as strange was that in this moment, faced with his relative's death, he didn't feel a single shred of sorrow.

Instead, a bizarre, inexplicable urge surged from the bottom of his heart.

An almost pathological urgency and anticipation stretched across his dirt- and blood-stained face.

He quickly stepped forward, casually shoving aside his older cousin's dangling head, and thrust his hands into the man's bloody shirt to rummage around.

A look of pleasant surprise suddenly bloomed on his face.

With a forceful tug.

Jimmy yanked a bloody cloth bundle straight out of his older cousin's coat.

Just like when he had picked up that die from the ground in his youth, he carefully tucked it into his own shirt.