Zanshin stood in the solitude of his rented room in the small settlement.
The heavy, dark wool cloak that had been his only disguise for the past three days was now crumpled on the floor.
Beneath it, the Blackened Knight Cuirass still gleamed—a brilliant, lethal piece of gear that was currently screaming TARGET to the rest of Aincrad.
He carried a purpose, cold and sharp as steel.
He was no longer running from the weight of his past; he was preparing to carry it.
The first step required him to shed the flimsy starter sword and find a weapon.
He looked at the armor.
The sheer defensive capability was tempting, offering him a crucial safety net.
But safety meant being found, and being found meant distraction.
His survival now depended entirely on his skill, and he couldn't afford the constant anxiety of being a high-value target.
He opened his inventory menu and stared at the gear slots.
[Blackened Knight Cuirass]
| Type | Heavy Armor (Growth) |
| :--- | :--- |
| DEF | +15 |
| VIT | +20 |
He scrolled down his list, selecting his original, worn, brown Frayed Leather Vest. It offered no defensive value worth mentioning, but it was generic, anonymous, and invisible against the thousands of other players.
The swap was painful. Zanshin felt the digital weight of the Cuirass lift away, replaced by the light, familiar touch of simple leather.
[DEF -15. VIT -20.]
His HP bar barely shifted, but the core stability he had felt for the last two days vanished.
He was soft again, vulnerable.
He was back to being a Level 3 player relying entirely on his agility and his still-rusty Skill Cues.
He stored the Cuirass in his inventory, knowing he would need it later, but resolved to move forward without relying on its protection.
His survival would depend on his skill, not his stats.
He slung the cloak across his back again, but now it only covered the lightweight Vest, a final, unnecessary layer of caution.
He looked like any other Level 3 player, perhaps a bit leaner, a bit more intense, but thankfully anonymous.
He headed straight back to the Blacksmith shop, the same one where he had specialized his skill the day before.
The NPC blacksmith, a massive man named Gundar with forearms thicker than Zanshin's thighs, was still rhythmically pounding on an anvil.
"Back again, traveler?" Gundar rumbled, setting aside his hammer.
"I trust your commitment to the longsword held through the night."
"It did," Zanshin confirmed, approaching the counter. "I need a weapon. Nothing fancy, no unique traits. I need a standard One-Handed Longsword. Something balanced and reliable."
Gundar eyed the short, dull blade currently equipped to Zanshin's belt.
"The starter sword. A fine token, but nothing more. You're asking for a Longsword, though, boy. Most of your level are fiddling with rapiers or short-blades. A true Longsword demands focus and strength. Are you sure your One-Handed Sword Mastery (18/100) is ready for the change in length and weight?"
Zanshin met the NPC's gaze, his golden eyes steady.
"The short blade is too forgiving. The Longsword forces precision in the commitment. I need the added challenge of controlling that length."
Gundar grunted, wiping his hands on a greasy apron.
"A strange philosophy for a low-level. Most players want ease, not challenge. But precision is what we sell."
He pulled a sword from a nearby rack. It was a utilitarian weapon: a plain steel blade, about a meter long, with a simple cruciform guard and a worn leather grip
.
[Worn Steel Longsword]
| ATK | +25 |
| :--- | :--- |
| Durability | High |
| Requirement | STR 15 (Met) |
"This is a Worn Steel Longsword," Gundar explained.
"It's cheap, durable, and holds an edge. It's heavy, balanced slightly toward the point—you'll feel the drag, but it transfers momentum well. The price is 800 Col."
Zanshin opened his menu. He had 1,500 Col left from selling a few minor drops.
"I'll take it. And a spare leather sheath, if you have one."
"Standard equipment," Gundar said, sliding the weapon across the counter.
"Remember, traveler: the sword is only as sharp as the hand that holds it. Don't let that tremor of yours ruin the momentum."
Zanshin froze. He looked up, a shadow of fear crossing his face, but Gundar was already back at his anvil, hammering, oblivious to the implication of his words.
The NPC had simply read his stats, which were likely screaming 'high AGI, low consistency.'
"Thank you, Gundar," Zanshin said, sheathing the heavy weapon.
The added length and weight felt familiar, like shaking hands with an old, powerful enemy. He secured the sword, noting the weight shift.
This is better. This feels real.
Next stop was the Apothecary, a tiny stall run by a wizened female NPC named Lina, who looked suspiciously at everyone who walked in.
"Potions, traveler?" Lina asked, her voice dry as parchment.
"You look like you need something stronger than a beginner's tonic."
"I need two things, Lina," Zanshin said, placing his remaining Col on the counter.
"First, five basic Healing Potions. I need to ensure my recovery time is minimal."
Lina nodded, pulling five small, red vials from a rack.
"Standard issue. Restores a small amount of HP immediately. Essential for any fight. That's 300 Col."
"Second," Zanshin continued, looking around the cluttered stall, "I need a single status cure. Which status effect is most common in the surrounding fields?"
Lina stopped wiping her counter, her expression turning serious.
"That would be the Frenzied Boars. They are notoriously aggressive and possess an annoying, low-grade Poison attack that drains health slowly, but surely.
If you are planning to engage them, one Antidote is not an expense, it is an insurance policy."
"Antidote, then."
She slid a single, clear vial across the counter.
"This one is expensive, traveler. 500 Col. We don't get many of the rare herbs needed. It's potent, but it only cures one instance of Poison. Use it wisely, and only if the health drain becomes critical. Never try to fight while poisoned—the shake will get you."
Zanshin flinched again, feeling exposed by the NPC's blunt accuracy.
He paid the 800 Col total, leaving him with only 400 Col. He tucked the potions into his inventory slots with meticulous care.
The NPCs here are dangerously honest, he realized.
They reflect the game's core mechanics back at you without filter. The system knows I have a problem with stability.
His next stop was the town's communal notice board, tucked next to the tavern. It was usually empty, but today, a single sheet of glowing parchment marked it as the Quest Board.
He approached it, scrolling through the minimal offerings.
Most were simple fetch quests, but one brightly colored notification caught his attention:
[SUBJUGATION QUEST: THE MAD FRENZY]
| Rank | D |
| :--- | :--- |
| Target | Single Frenzied Boar (Level 5) |
| Location | West Edge of Green Field, Blocking Merchant Route 3 |
| Reward | 1,000 Col + 50 EXP |
A single Level 5 mob was perfect.
It was one level lower than the Rusted Reavers, reducing the immediate risk, but still high enough to demand the perfect execution of Skill Cues.
It was a test, a self-imposed challenge to prove that his training wasn't a fluke.
He formally accepted the quest through the menu. The parchment dissolved, leaving the quest details logged in his quest tab.
A new NPC, a wiry Scout named Elara, detached herself from the wall nearby.
She wore light armor and carried a curved dagger. She looked him up and down, clearly unimpressed by his Level 3 status.
"You've taken the Boar quest, haven's you, Swordsman?" Elara's tone was clipped and professional.
"I have," Zanshin confirmed.
"Do you have any further details on the target?"
"Aye. He's massive," Elara stated, crossing her arms.
"He patrols the entrance to the merchant path. He charges, that's his only move. Fast, heavy, and if he lands the tusks, you get that slow, nasty poison. Most low-levels try to parry and fail."
"Parry is not an option," Zanshin murmured, thinking of his AGI 25.
He was built to dodge, not tank.
"Right. Listen close. He has a soft spot, but you only get a window for it. After his charge, he has a momentary recovery stance. The plate armor on his shoulders is thick, but the base of his neck, right where the ruff of the mane meets the spine—that's the weak point. It's too high for a normal strike, so you have to execute a vertical strike from an upward-angled stance to clip it."
Zanshin nodded slowly. A vertical Skill Cue, aimed high after an aggressive charge.
This was exactly what he needed—a scenario that forced him to overcome his tremor and commit to a single, explosive attack against a moving target.
"You'll need two successful Skill Cues minimum to put him down," Elara warned, seeing his concentration.
"One to crack the spine, the second to finish the health bar. If you miss the window, he's charging again, and you'll need that Antidote. Good luck, Swordsman. You'll need it."
She spun on her heel and walked away without waiting for a reply.
Zanshin stood alone, adjusting the grip on the Worn Steel Longsword.
The new length felt demanding, and the knowledge of the tremor-triggering high-angled strike made his palms instantly damp.
Two successful Critical Cues on a Level 5 Frenzied Boar. He could feel the panic coil in his gut, but beneath the fear, the cold resolve held firm.
Ryo, Hayabusa.
He gripped the sword tighter. This is where the climb begins.
He turned, the heavy Longsword swinging slightly, and stepped out toward the northern field, his eyes already fixed on the distant outline of the merchant path.