The Merchant, the Bandits, and the "Lucky" Guy
The sun lazily drifted across the sky, painting soft golden hues over the rolling hills of Eldoria. A gentle breeze rustled through the trees, carrying the sweet scent of blooming wildflowers. It was the kind of day that begged for a nap beneath a shady tree.
But Chen Franz wasn't napping.
He strolled along the dirt path, hands tucked behind his head, eyes half-lidded in boredom. It had been three months since he mysteriously woke up in this fantasy world, but nothing exciting had happened.
"I thought fantasy worlds were supposed to be more exciting," he muttered, kicking a stray pebble.
In his mind, he had prepared for epic quests, magical duels, and maybe even slaying a dragon or two. But so far, his biggest battle had been with boredom.
His stomach growled.
"Alright, maybe finding lunch is today's quest."
As if answering his call for excitement, distant shouts echoed down the road.
Chen tilted his head, spotting a small caravan stopped ahead. A group of burly men with swords bandits, by the looks of them had surrounded a lone merchant and his cart.
The merchant frantically waved his hands. "Please, I don't have much! Take what you need, but spare my life!"
One of the bandits grinned, waving his sword menacingly. "Oh, we'll be taking everything, old man."
Chen sighed.
"Great. Bandits. Guess I'll take the long way aro"
Before he could finish that thought, the merchant locked eyes with him. Desperation flashed across the man's face.
"Traveler! Please help me!"
Chen winced. "Why me…?"
The bandits turned, sizing up Chen. Their leader, a tall man with a scar running down his cheek, sneered.
"Another one? This one's not even armed." He cracked his knuckles. "Scram, kid. Unless you're looking to lose a few teeth."
Chen scratched the back of his head. "Look, I don't want trouble. I'll just keep walking, okay?"
The merchant's eyes widened in panic. "You can't leave me!"
Scarface raised his sword. "You heard him. Get lost."
Chen sighed again. He really didn't want to get involved. But the pitiful look on the merchant's face tugged at him.
"Fine," Chen mumbled. "Let's try talking first."
He stepped forward.
Scarface's smirk widened. "Oh? Got a death wish?"
Chen raised his hands. "No, just"
The bandit swung his sword at Chen's head.
CLANG!
The blade snapped clean in half.
"…Huh?" Chen blinked, staring at the broken sword.
Scarface stumbled back, eyes wide. The other bandits froze.
"What the?!"
Chen rubbed his head. "Uh… cheap sword, maybe?"
The bandits exchanged nervous glances.
"Forget this!" Scarface barked. "We'll come back with more men. Move out!"
In a panic, the bandits fled down the road, leaving behind their weapons and the merchant's cart.
Chen stared after them, scratching his cheek.
"That was… weird."
The merchant, meanwhile, was kneeling in front of him, hands trembling.
"Oh, great hero! Thank you for saving me!"
Chen waved his hands frantically. "Hero? No, no, I'm not"
"You broke Scarface Greg's sword with your bare head! You must be a legendary warrior!"
Chen's mouth hung open. "I didn't… I mean… maybe it was rusty?"
But the merchant wasn't listening. He rushed off toward the village, shouting, "The hero has come! He saved me single-handedly!"
Chen stood there, utterly bewildered.
"I guess… that's one way to get free lunch?"
Little did he know, his "legendary" reputation had just begun.