Lynn wandered through the dense forest surrounding his secluded hut, the damp earth soft beneath his bare feet. The night air was cool, carrying the scent of moss and distant rain.
Seven days until his clone body would be restored—until he could embrace death once more. Until then, he needed to prepare.
He opened his status screen, scanning through his blessings.
[Blessings]
• Blessing of Kazat (God of Illness) x2
Cursed Immunity
Enhanced Disease Resistance
• Blessing of Dathos (God of Despair)
Pain Tolerance +50%
Not bad, but not great either. He needed more. Stronger blessings, rarer ones. And for that, he needed to die in ways that truly entertained the gods.
Lynn smirked to himself. "Guess I'll have to be more creative next time."
As he walked, he mulled over his next steps. The last death had been a calculated move—captured, tortured, executed. He had set himself up to be caught, just to shift the blame onto Duke Lionheart and solidify his role in the grand game. It had worked.
And now? Now, the kingdom was stirred. Prince Steven would move against Lionheart. Assassins would be hunted down.
A flicker of light in the distance caught his eye. A small village, its torches glowing warmly against the night. Civilization.
He hesitated. Seven days was a long time to wait in hiding. Maybe it was time to step back into the world, stir the pot a little more.
With a grin, Lynn pulled up his hood and made his way toward the village.
The village was small, nestled between the forest and the foothills beyond. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, and the scent of roasted meat mixed with damp earth. It was quiet, peaceful—the kind of place where people lived their lives without worrying about the schemes of nobles or the whims of gods.
Lynn pulled his hood lower as he approached, blending into the evening crowd. His clothes were plain, his presence unassuming. He was just another traveler, a wanderer seeking rest.
But he wasn't here for rest.
He was here to kill time—and maybe, just maybe, set up his next death.
His sharp eyes swept over the village square. Merchants packed up their stalls, children laughed as they ran between carts, and weary men shared drinks outside the local tavern.
It was a picture of simplicity, but Lynn knew better. Even the smallest places had their shadows.
He spotted a notice board near the tavern's entrance, littered with parchment. Bounty posters, job requests, missing persons. His gaze flickered over the names and faces before landing on something interesting.
"WANTED: The Black Fang Assassin. 1,000 gold pieces for information. 5,000 for his capture. 20,000 for his execution."
Lynn nearly laughed. This was the alias he had used as an assassin.
'Does this mean that prince Steven got 20,000 gold pieces because he executed me? Not so fair , I'll claim my share later.'
He reached out, plucking the paper from the board, studying the rough sketch. It wasn't a perfect likeness, but it was close enough.
"That's a dangerous thing to be holding," a voice murmured beside him.
Lynn turned slightly, meeting the gaze of a woman leaning against the tavern wall. She had short, dark hair and sharp eyes, dressed in light armor that spoke of experience. A hunter, a mercenary—someone used to danger.
"Is it?" he asked, his tone light.
She tilted her head. "Depends. You looking for him?"
Lynn smirked, crumpling the poster in his hand. "Maybe I just like collecting bounties."
The woman chuckled. "That so? Then maybe you'd be interested in a job."
Now that was interesting. He had come here to pass the time, but if someone was offering him work, he wouldn't turn it down.
"Go on," he said.
She gestured toward the tavern door. "Buy me a drink, and I'll tell you."
Lynn considered her for a moment, then shrugged. Seven days was a long time. He might as well make things interesting.
_______
The tavern was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of ale and roasted meat. Conversations buzzed around them, blending into a steady hum of laughter, deals, and drunken boasts. Lynn followed the woman to a corner table, where she sat with the ease of someone who had been here many times before.
He slid into the seat across from her. A serving girl approached, and the woman tapped the table twice.
"Two ales," she ordered, before turning her attention back to Lynn. "So, stranger, got a name?"
Lynn leaned back, fingers idly tracing the rim of the crumpled bounty poster in his hands.
"Isn't it common courtesy to say one's name before asking others name?"
She smirked. "Fair enough. Call me Risa."
"And I'm Ark."
The ales arrived, frothing and cold. Risa took a sip before continuing, "I run with a mercenary group, the Iron Vultures. We take all kinds of work—escorting merchants, hunting beasts, the occasional bounty. Right now, we've got a contract that pays well, but we're a little short on hands."
Lynn raised a brow. "And you're offering me a spot? Just like that?"
Risa shrugged. "You are strong, since earlier you have always been on guard against me, that's just what we currently need in the team."
Lynn chuckled. She was sharp.
"What's the job?" he asked.
"Bandits," she said simply. "A camp hidden in the woods, led by some bastard calling himself the Red Wolf. He's been raiding caravans, killing entire families, and leaving their bodies strung up as warnings. We've been hired to take him out."
Lynn tilted his head. A simple task, on the surface. But mercenaries rarely took jobs that were as easy as they sounded.
"And the catch?"
Risa grinned. "Smart. The catch is that these aren't just common thugs. Red Wolf used to be a knight. He trains his men like soldiers, moves his camp often, and has spies in town. We can't afford mistakes."
Lynn swirled his ale, thinking. Seven days before his body was restored. He could wait it out quietly… or he could take this job and see if it led to something more interesting.
"Sounds fun," he said, taking a sip.
Risa laughed. "Glad to hear it. Come on, I'll introduce you to the rest of the Vultures."
She stood, and Lynn followed her out of the tavern, stepping deeper into the mercenary life he never planned on—but found himself intrigued by nonetheless.