After reading the system interface multiple times, Fret finally understood how it worked. By completing the missions issued by the system, he would ensure his survival in this world. After all, who would dare challenge someone who could acquire tanks with just a thought?
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Fret refocused on the system's mission section. As he opened it, his eyes fell upon his first mission.
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Mission: First Contact
As you have just arrived in this unknown world, your initial task is to gather information about the place and its inhabitants before formulating any plans.
Objective: Make contact with a local of the world.
Rewards:
-Belt Holster
-Glock 17
-2 Magazines (9mm)
-10 System Points
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"Glock... hmm... these rewards seem nice. Ten System Points— I wonder how many I'll need to buy a soldier?" Fret pondered, reaching to click on the Personnel Shop. But before he could, a nearby scream caught his attention. Closing the system quickly, he saw three people sprinting towards him, desperately fleeing from a wild boar.
"Here comes my reward!" Fret exclaimed with a grin. Despite the boar's fierce pursuit, he felt no fear. Instead, he focused on making contact and securing his rewards before dealing with the boar himself.
"Run, young man!" shouted the leader of the trio, a middle-aged man, as he led two young girls, no older than ten, fleeing from the wild boar. Hearing the man's urgent command, Fret began jogging and quickly matched the man's pace.
"Why is it chasing you?" Fret asked, trying to make conversation as they ran. Though the question seemed odd, he needed to interact to determine if this would trigger the reward process or if further actions were required.
"Bored? Hungry? I don't know. Don't ask, just run," the middle-aged man replied with a serious tone, though his expression gradually became more perplexed. 'Is he mentally challenged?' the man wondered to himself, glancing at Fret as they ran.
Just as Fret was about to ask another question, a "ding" sound from the system interrupted him, and an interface popped up before his eyes. Initially startled, Fret quickly realized that the system's display was only visible to him, as the middle-aged man showed no reaction. This new understanding was crucial, as it meant he could access the system interface discreetly, even while interacting with others.
[First mission completed. Rewards are being issued. Warning: There are individuals near the host. It is advised that the host be alone while rewards are being issued.]
After reading the warning on his interface, Fret quickly changed direction and ran to his left, shouting loudly to lure the boar away from the trio. He was determined to secure his rewards, but he couldn't afford to let the people get hurt due to his negligence.
The middle-aged man was initially perplexed as Fret darted away, but upon hearing the distraction, he gradually understood Fret's intention. Relief washed over him, and he managed to shout a hurried thanks as he continued running forward with the two little girls.
After putting enough distance between himself and the trio, Fret quickly retrieved the Glock from his inventory and checked the magazine. Seeing that it was full, he breathed a sigh of relief, then racked the gun to chamber a bullet. Readying himself, Fret made a swift turn and aimed his gun at the boar's head. The middle-aged man, who was nearing the edge of the forest, watched in wide-eyed disbelief as Fret prepared to confront the threat. He tried to comprehend what Fret was doing, his gaze locked on the young man's determined stance.
The moment Fret pulled the trigger, his aim was precise, and the first shot struck the boar's head, causing it to let out a pained cry. Despite the hit, the boar did not halt its charge. Fret fired again, landing a second shot in the same spot, but the boar continued its relentless advance. Realizing the danger as the boar closed the distance rapidly, Fret swiftly threw himself to the side, rolling on the ground to evade the incoming impact. The boar, momentarily thrown off by Fret's sudden maneuver, tried to pivot but stumbled and fell.
Seeing the boar struggling to rise, Fret quickly regained his footing and dashed toward the fallen creature. Despite their tough skin, the boar was reeling from the two headshots. Typically, such animals would require armor-piercing or specialized ammunition for a swift takedown, but Fret was making do with 9mm rounds—a choice many would deem impractical for such a task.
Once beside the struggling boar, Fret aimed and fired repeatedly until the creature lay still. The process consumed over six rounds, leaving Fret grumbling as he lamented the waste of ammunition. "Such a pain in the ass," he muttered to himself, frustrated by the cost of his effort. Then he heard the system notification. Not expecting it, he quickly checked, and the message appeared in his vision-
[Successfully killed a wild boar. 10 system points granted to the host.]
While Fret was preoccupied with thoughts about the excessive ammunition he'd used and the system notification, the middle-aged man and the two little girls approached him. "Young man, are you an officer?" the middle-aged man asked, eyeing the Glock in Fret's hand. Snapping back to reality, Fret's attention was drawn to the question. 'Officer? Police officer or military?' These two questions flickered through his mind. 'Seems like this isn't a medieval era after all…' Fret thought, feeling a twinge of disappointment. The idea of seeing medieval weaponry fail against modern arms was a tempting one.
Fret at that moment was thinking about his answer as it could result in him becoming international criminal. 'If I say I'm a police officer and they report that to the police and they discover my lie...' Fret's paranoid self suddenly popped up and wrote a scene from scratch. 'No, I can't go to the jail.' Fret thought before answering to Middle-aged man's question. "No, I'm just a person who was gun permit." He said. After all, no matter what, in a modern society carrying a weapon with permit was something possible.
"Gun permit? What is that?" The middle-aged man asked, his face a picture of confusion as he looked at Fret. Fret, momentarily taken aback, cursed inwardly, realizing his response might have been a mistake. He was about to correct himself with his gun when he noticed the two little girls and cursed himself for thinking such a thing.
"It's just," the middle-aged man continued, examining the Glock with evident fascination, "in my military career, I've never seen a pistol like this. Though military officers have their own pistols, they're not built like the one you're using."
Fret's eyes widened as he saw the man's genuine interest. 'Oh, so he's a military enthusiast just like me,' he thought, a grin forming on his face. As the realization sank in, Fret's mind raced. 'Military officers... Pistol... Oh, wait! World War I Era?' His eyes sparkled with anticipation as he pieced together the clues from the man's words.
"What about semi-automatic rifles?" Fret asked the man, eager to confirm his suspicions.
The middle-aged man furrowed his brow at Fret's mention of semi-automatic rifles. "What's that? I only know about bolt-action rifles and machine guns."
Fret, barely containing his excitement at the confirmation of being in a World War I-era setting, quickly composed himself. "Ahem... Actually, I need a bit of assistance. I was traveling with some people from my homeland, but we got separated, and now I find myself here. Could you tell me where we are right now?" Fret said it with the intention of understanding this new world's countries and such.
"This is the Herady Kingdom, located at the Baltics. Which country are you from? Don't tell me you're from the Reich?" The middle-aged man asked, glancing at Fret's gun. As he neared the end of his sentence, his expression grew serious, and the two little girls gradually hid behind him.
'Reich? Oh, here too? Isn't it a bit early for that?' Fret thought, rolling his eyes at this new piece of information. 'Baltic, Reich... I guess this world is quite similar to mine.'
"No, God forbid. Don't associate me with that name again. I come from a distant land," Fret replied, his face showing slight irritation. His attempt to ease the trio's concern seemed to work, as the little girls slowly emerged from behind the middle-aged man.
"Which distant land is that?" The middle-aged man asked, his curiosity piqued by both Fret's origin and the impressive pistol. He was clearly fascinated by the solid black weapon, its performance having left him in awe. His mind buzzed with questions about the pistol, its ammunition, and its accuracy.
"Sorry, I can't disclose that information as it could cost me my life," Fret replied, his expression a blend of irritation and concern. While he wasn't genuinely upset, he needed to maintain this façade to protect himself. Though this world was somewhat medieval, the presence of firearms, even if less advanced than his own, still posed a significant threat to someone like him.
"Well, that's a shame. I suppose you don't have anywhere to stay at night?" the middle-aged man asked, expressing regret as he noted Fret's reluctance to share his origins.
"I was thinking about setting up a camp nearby. My people are probably looking for me," Fret replied, aiming to distance himself from the trio.
"Camp? I don't see any equipment on you other than that pistol," the middle-aged man remarked, observing Fret's lack of camping gear.
Fret knew the comment was valid, but he was more focused on escaping their company to explore the system's shops and spend his "hard-earned" points. He was also preoccupied with questions about how he had made those perfect shots and managed the run without breaking a sweat. Answers to these questions were crucial to understanding his new reality.
"Come on, let me buy you a meal. You protected me and my daughters; I at least owe you that much," the middle-aged man said, patting Fret's shoulder with a kind, elder-like gesture.
Though Fret initially wanted to stay away from them, his stomach's protest was too loud to ignore. The thought of a meal tempted him, and after a moment of consideration, he decided to accept the invitation. Besides, this could be an opportunity to learn more about the cuisine of this world.
.
.
.
Approximately twenty minutes later, Fret and the others arrived at the town where Kane, the middle-aged man, lived with his family of four. It was simple 1900s town with nothing out of the ordinary. Apparently, this town has been peaceful for almost ten years now. There weren't any arrests happening, and no one was committing a crime. Too good to be true.
After arriving in the town, Fret noticed many people watching him with awe. He quickly realized the reason: most of the locals were shorter than 1.8 meters, making him appear significantly taller. Beyond his height, Fret was also aware of his well-built physique, accentuated by his t-shirt. While he was curious about how he looked compared to his past self, he decided to check his reflection when he had the chance.