As Oliver entered the tavern, his arms weighed down with his impressive catch, a stunned silence fell over the patrons.

Gavin, the tavern keeper, was the first to speak, a grin spreading across his face.

“Well now, Stark! Quite the haul you've got there!”

“This all yours? I’ve seen seasoned hunters come back empty-handed, and here you are with a prize catch!”

A nearby townsman grinned, playfully pinching the thigh of a doe, his admiration evident.

“Did you really catch all of this by yourself?”

The disbelief was palpable. Just a few months ago, Oliver had been nothing more than a struggling farmer, barely scraping by. Now, to see him return with such a bounty—unbelievable.

When he’d first declared his intention to become a hunter, no one had taken him seriously.

They had expected him to become wolf fodder before long. But here he stood, with a catch that even the most skilled could envy.

“By the gods, a bearded ram!” A hunter called out, impressed. “That's no easy prey. It runs like the wind. You've got real talent, boy!”

“I’ll say,” another hunter remarked, shaking his head in amazement. “Seems like we've got a new master in town.”

“Remarkable,” an older man muttered, his tone a mix of admiration and envy. “A mere orphan rising up like this... My own son, at seventeen, still hasn't got a lick of ambition.”

Oliver found himself at the center of attention, a buzz of conversation swirling around him. He stood proudly as the tavern patrons marveled at his spoils.

Gavin, taking the bounty with a more serious expression, began tallying the haul.

"I’ll take all of it off your hands," he said. "How does 17 silver coins plus 50 copper sound?”

Known for paying well, Gavin’s tavern was the preferred market for hunters selling their game.

Before long, a servant arrived with a pouch of coins. Oliver opened it, the glint of silver catching the light. The crowd's murmurs grew louder, filled with awe.

Stolen novel; please report.

Most of the excitement came from the hunters and farmers. The townsfolk, however, remained more reserved.

Hunters often had moments of great fortune, but the shadow of misfortune loomed large. A few good days could be followed by months of scarcity, especially with winter drawing near. The life of a hunter was dangerous, full of uncertainty. Who knew if tomorrow, Oliver might meet his end at the jaws of some beast? Meanwhile, the townsfolk lived more stable lives, enjoying their cozy homes and predictable work.

Seventeen silver coins!

With the 10 he already had, Oliver now held a respectable 27 coins.

He was that much closer to the 120 he needed to enter Oakridge Academy. If he could keep this pace up—more than 15 silver coins a day—his goal would be within reach.

But he knew better than to get too comfortable. Such a windfall might draw unwanted attention. He had to remain cautious, keeping his true strength and magical core a secret.

"Speaking of which," he muttered, as if to himself, "tax season is fast approaching. And with it, a long list of expenses."

Hunters were taxed heavily, often more than farmers or townsfolk, and failure to pay could result in harsh consequences. Forced labor on the frontier or conscription to build the defensive walls was a grim prospect.

With that in mind, Oliver decided to purchase a few essentials—some fresh loaves of bread, a bottle of sweet wine, and a platter of fruit.

He passed on the roasted meats, though the scent of roasted chicken and burgers was mouth-watering. They were just too expensive.

With a giant tiger as a companion, he could easily hunt for his own meat. There was no need to spend on food when he could gather it himself from the forest. One day, he hoped to eat whatever he wanted. But for now, he was still too poor and too weak to indulge.

“Catching that little kitten secured my hunting income,” Oliver thought, “but if I want to truly grow stronger—or make enough coin to live comfortably—I'll need to seek out more magical plants or perhaps even capture a magical creature…”

The woods surrounding the village were known to harbor magical beings.

Rumor had it that someone had once caught a slime and sold it for 100 silver coins.

Though slimes were among the lowest-tier magical creatures, they had many uses. Some mages consumed them to boost their mana. Oliver figured that capturing one could bring him a hefty reward in life essence.

Lost in thought, he made his way back to the village. The moon hung high in the sky, casting a cool glow over the tranquil village.

But just as he reached the door to his home, he heard muffled sobs coming from next door.

"Is that little Isabella?"

He had made some money and intended to give her a silver coin as a gift. But the Alstans had been away for days.

As he asked around, He found out they had gone to another region to attend the funeral of Isabella's aunt, who had passed away.

Now, they had returned, but Isabella was in tears. Had her father struck her again?

Fists clenched, Oliver felt a surge of anger. Giles was a despicable man—drunk and violent, with no right to treat such a kind-hearted girl so poorly.

"Little Isabella!"

he called softly from the garden wall.

His voice coaxed a pause in her sobs. A hesitant voice emerged from the shadows. “Oliver, what is it? Are you still hungry? I can—”

“No, I’ve got food,” he replied, grinning. “You wouldn't believe it, but I’m—”

Before he could finish, an enraged voice shouted from within the house.

“Bella, what are you doing? Don’t you dare associate with that worthless boy next door, or I’ll break your legs!”

The man’s voice grew louder as he stormed into the yard.

Isabella quickly assured him she wouldn’t do it again and rushed back inside at her father’s command.

Oliver lingered by the wall, frustration bubbling within him. He longed to confront the drunken fool, but with the silence falling over the Alstans' house, he hesitated. Instead, he turned and walked back to his own home.

Tomorrow, when Giles was gone, he would find a way to deliver his gift to little Isabella.