What was up next on his list? Hunting.
Cronos had already sent a messenger to gather the hunting party. He had instructed them to meet him in a field just outside the town, not too far from the outskirts.
The sun hung lazily in the sky as he waited for them to arrive, his mind preoccupied with the tasks ahead.
This would be their first hunt together, and while it seemed like a simple task, there were deeper implications.
It wasn't just about hunting game — it was about setting an example for the people who would follow him.
When they finally arrived, they bowed respectfully, the deep reverence clear in their voices. One of them still held an apple, a gift from the farmers, the fruit almost incongruous in the rugged setting.
"Good afternoon," Cronos greeted them, his voice calm yet authoritative as he gestured toward the logs he'd arranged for them to sit on.
His hands, though strong and calloused, moved with a certain grace as he directed them. "Please, take a seat."
The hunters were older, more experienced than he, their faces lined with the marks of time and survival.
They had hunting kits strapped to their sides, practical and worn from use. Cronos himself had only a magic spear, a magical weapon he'd found in the hut.
He could have easily bought something from the System, but he had made a conscious decision to hold off on spending his points — he had other plans, other priorities.
The hunters sat down, settling into their spots, their eyes glancing at Cronos as they waited for him to speak.
He took a moment to observe them. Five in total. They were seasoned men — rough, capable, and older than him by several years, some even by a decade.
In their eyes, Cronos could see respect, but also wariness. They were used to leading, not following, and it wasn't lost on him that they might be questioning why they had been called to serve a man so young.
'We'll need to train the younger men in hunting as well,' Cronos thought, a plan beginning to form in his mind.
He could already see the future: his territory expanding, his people growing stronger, more capable. But for now, his immediate focus had to be on making his own position solid.
The younger hunters would need time to catch up, but they couldn't be rushed. They would need to be prepared, just as he would. Cronos needed to cultivate strength, and it had to start with these basics.
"As I told the Messenger," Cronos began, his voice steady but carrying a tone of authority, "We are going hunting today. And I plan to accompany you all in the hunt."
One of the older hunters, a man with a weathered face and deep-set eyes, opened his mouth to speak, but Cronos raised a hand.
The simple gesture was enough to silence the man instantly. The tension in the air seemed to crackle as the hunter's mouth snapped shut.
"My lord, you don't have to-" the older man began, but his words trailed off under the weight of Cronos's gaze.
Cronos's eyes, glowing faintly with a strange intensity, fixed on the man. "It's my town," he said, his voice firm. "If I don't know how to hunt, what kind of example am I setting for my people?"
His words were final, and the silence that followed was thick with understanding. It wasn't a request; it was a statement of intent.
Cronos would not be swayed. He had come this far, and if he was going to be the leader of this place, he needed to show his people that he was more than just a figurehead.
He was their equal in every sense, and if they were to follow him, they had to know that he would never ask them to do something he wasn't willing to do himself.
The older hunters exchanged glances, their unease palpable. This wasn't the young man they had known months ago — the boy who had looked lost in the chaos of this new world.
There had been something inexperienced, almost naive, in his eyes back then. But now, as they watched him, there was a hard edge to his gaze.
His eyes, once uncertain, now seemed to hold something else — something deeper, something forged in the fire of experience.
The old hunter couldn't help but think, 'He seems different.'
It was hard to place at first, but now, in the light of the day, it was clear. Cronos's eyes, once full of doubt, were now sharp and calculating.
There was a quiet wisdom behind them, a knowledge born not from age, but from a deeper understanding — one that transcended his years.
The man found himself reassessing Cronos, realizing that the young lord had already begun to transform, already started to adapt to this new position in a way that many others had yet to.
Cronos, for his part, had felt the weight of their stares.
He knew what they were thinking. He had seen it before — the disbelief, the skepticism in their eyes. They were sizing him up, judging whether he was truly worthy of leading them.
But he wasn't here to prove himself to them. Not yet. He was here to hunt, to learn, and to grow. That was the first step.
"I know you've hunted before," Cronos continued, breaking the silence, "But this world is different now. We need to learn how to adapt, how to hunt not just for food, but for survival." He paused, his gaze sweeping over them, weighing each of them in turn. "And we need to do it together."
The older hunters nodded, their expressions unreadable, but their respect for Cronos's words was evident.
They could see the fire in his eyes, the determination that had become more than just words.
He wasn't just leading them for the sake of leading; he was leading them because he understood the stakes. They could feel it, even if they didn't fully understand it yet.
One of the older hunters shifted uncomfortably but said nothing.
He wasn't used to taking orders from someone younger than him, but he could tell there was something different about Cronos.
"So my Lord, when are we starting the hunt?"
"Right now of course," Cronos replied with a smile.