Liam lay on the narrow bed in the inn's dim room, the rough blankets tangled around his legs like chains. His chest rose and fell in shallow bursts, the weight of exhaustion pressing down after another endless day of scraping by in this unforgiving world. Sleep had finally claimed him, but it shattered without warning.
His eyes snapped open. A cold sweat slicked his skin. The system interface hovered before him, glowing softly in the dark. 'No more running blind,' he thought, fingers twitching as he navigated the shop with practiced desperation. There—one skill caught his eye: Face Weaver. Temporary disguise, ten minutes max. Expensive, but worth it if it bought him a chance at survival. He purchased it without hesitation, feeling the familiar rush of mana settling into his core.
