Thoughts churned in my mind as I bent down, staring at the man I'd just beaten.

His chest still rose and fell in ragged breaths, but I knew he was done.

The fight was over.

As my gaze drifted to his tattered cloak, something caught my eye.

There, sewn onto the fabric near his shoulder, was a simple but unmistakable symbol—a black iron fist gripping a red chain.

The design was crude but striking, etched into the cloak with purpose. I didn't recognize it, but it stirred something uneasy in me.

"What does this mean?" I muttered with my voice barely audible in the thick air.

I stood back, breathing hard, as the realization set in—this was no random encounter.

Whoever this man was, he belonged to something larger, something organized.

I had no idea what I had just stepped into, but whatever it was, it was only the beginning.

I took a deep breath with the weight of the fight still heavy on my shoulders.

The cloaked man lay slumped on the cavern floor, wheezing and groaning, still alive, but barely.

My own body ached from the struggle, but I was alive.

I had won.

The cavern's mouth loomed ahead, offering me an escape into a world I didn't yet know. I turned to walk toward it.

Each step was a reminder that I had survived while other one hadn't.

But then, I stopped.

Something pulled me back—my eyes drifted to the cloaked man, lying broken on the ground.

This man had already helped kill the body I now inhabited, and had tried again to do the same just moments ago.

I clenched my fists. The echoes of my old self were trying to speak up, telling me to leave, that I wasn't a killer.

But those old ideals felt far away now, lost in the blood and dust of the cavern floor. In this world, survival didn't seem to have room to allow for mercy.

A dark thought surfaced, as natural as my breathing.

If you want to kill others, you should be prepared to be killed.

I approached him slowly.

His labored breathing was the only sound. The cloaked man opened his eyes for a moment, maybe realizing what was coming, but too weak to resist.

He tried to speak, but no words came.

No more hesitation. I ended it swiftly—with his own blade.

Congratulations! You have reached Level 2. Stat Increase: +1 to Strength, +1 to Dexterity, +1 to Intelligence, +4 Free Stat Points

Title Acquired: Unforgiving Effect: +5% to attack power against human enemies

I rested for a few hours, watching my HP and Mana regenerate to safer levels, before getting up again.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

As I turned toward the exit once more, now armed, and nearly having died, the cold realization settled over me.

There was no going back now, and maybe that was for the best.

I stepped into the light beyond the cavern, ready for whatever awaited me in this new world.

----------------------------------------

The cool air brushed against my skin which was a stark contrast to the oppressive warmth of the cave.

Relief washed over me for a fleeting moment as I scanned the horizon.

In the distance, nestled against the backdrop of rolling hills, I spotted a town—a potential refuge, or perhaps just another danger.

But before I could dwell on the sight of the town, my attention snapped back to the immediate threat.

Ahead, a group of men moved through the underbrush, their backs turned to me, unaware of my presence—yet.

My breath caught when I recognized the black iron fist gripping a red chain on their cloaks.

The same symbol as the man who tried to kill me. My chest tightened with a thousand thoughts racing through my mind.

Will my murder be found out?

Will my crime be exposed?

These weren't just ordinary men—they were part of the same group, carrying dangerous weapons like swords, and I was an unknown variable in their world.

My heart pounded. The adrenaline coursing through my veins urged me to act, but all I could do was stand frozen, watching them like a deer caught in headlights.

As I observed them, a realization hit me like a hammer.

I had stepped into a world of fantasy—a world where adventurers roamed, their swords and armor were no mere props, and where the lines between life and death were razor-thin.

My mind raced, trying to piece together what little I knew about these kinds of worlds.

This wasn't some game; this was real, and the stakes were terrifyingly high.

I couldn't afford to make any mistakes.

But what did I know about adventurers?

Almost nothing.

Back in my previous life, I had read about them, seen them in games and movies, but those were just stories, fantasies crafted for entertainment.

This… this was different.

The way they moved, the way they carried their weapons with a casual ease—it was clear they were no strangers to violence.

While I had acquired a sword, I was merely a monkey with a gun, unable to use it properly.

I had no idea what customs or rules they followed, what might set them off or earn their trust. Every move I made could be a potential misstep, a trigger for a deadly confrontation.

My only chance was to stay calm, to act like I belonged, and to hope that my ignorance didn't give me away.

A cold dread settled in my gut—one wrong move, and I could be dead before I knew it.

Panic clawed at the edges of my mind, threatening to unravel the thin veneer of calm I was desperately trying to maintain.

What if they saw through me?

What if they recognized me as an outsider who had no place in their world?

I knew nothing about them—nothing about their customs, their hierarchies, or even their language, beyond what little I had overheard.

And yet, here I was, caught between the cavern and the wilderness with no plan, no allies, and no clear way out.

Then, like a lifeline thrown to a drowning man, an idea struck me—authority.

In any world, power and rank were respected, sometimes feared. It didn't matter whether it was a corporation, a street gang, or, I hoped, a group of adventurers.

If I could convince them I was acting on orders from someone important, someone they wouldn't dare question, maybe I could walk away unscathed.

It was a gamble, a shot in the dark, but it was all I had.

My mind raced to construct the lie, piecing together bits of information I'd picked up, blending them with the universal truth that people tended to follow orders without question when those orders came from above.

I took a slow breath, trying to calm the wild thudding of my heart.

I had to sell this, and I had to sell it well.

My life might just depend on it.