He walked into his small house. It wasn't much, just a place to rest and wait. Sitting down on a creaky wooden chair, he leaned back and let out a small sigh.

"This part is done. Now, I just have to wait and let everything sink in," he thought, getting comfortable.

"System, at least tell me something about this world. I don't know anything important," he said, his tone annoyed.

[Due to a barrier around this world, authority usage is limited. I cannot scan or retrieve world information. My functions are restricted to basic support and energy management.]

He frowned. "You've got to be kidding me. Even you don't know what's going on?"

[Correct. The barrier suppresses external forces and blocks my ability to analyze this realm. To gather information, you'll need to explore and feed me the data. I can process and store it for future use, but independent scans are impossible for now.]

"So I have to do all the work? What's the point of having you if you can't even figure out where we are?"

[My purpose is to support your growth, not solve everything for you. ]

"Fine, I get it. So I have to figure out everything myself."

[Correct. This process will help you uncover the unique traits of this world. The barrier likely exists to hide something powerful or significant.]

Hearing that, his frustration eased a little. "Something powerful, huh? Maybe this place is worth sticking around for after all."

[It's highly likely. Hidden potential often resides in worlds with barriers of this scale. If you can overcome its limitations, the rewards could be immense.]

"Hmm ok i mean good"he muttured as he

...

The next morning

sunlight filtered through the cracks in the wooden walls of his house, stirring him from his rest. The faint hum of voices outside grew louder.

He woke up to the sound of voices outside his door. Sighing, he rubbed his forehead and stood up. When he opened the door, he was greeted by a crowd of villagers holding gifts—food, cloth, and even animals.

The man he saved yesterday stepped forward, bowing deeply with a clay jar in his hands.

"Honored one, we can't thank you enough for saving me. Please accept these gifts," he said, his voice shaky.

The others spoke in unison, offering their thanks. "You're our savior!"

"Please bless us!"

"Take this! It's all I have!"

He frowned, annoyed. "You've done enough. No need for all this."

Before he could shut the door, the man knelt, his voice filled with desperation. "My lord, I have nothing more valuable than my wife. I offer her to you as a token of my gratitude. She will serve you however you wish."

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A hush fell over the crowd. The woman stood behind the man, her face pale and resigned.

He raised an eyebrow. "You're offering me your wife?" he asked, then paused as he realized. This wasn't his original world. In a medieval-like society such as this, such customs were likely considered normal.

"Yes, my lord," the man said, his forehead touching the ground. "She will bring you honor."

'Honor?' He paused. His patience was running thin, but rejecting the offer too harshly could cause trouble. After a moment, he shook his head. "No. I didn't save you to take anything in return."

The man looked up, relieved and ashamed. "Forgive me, my lord. I meant no offense."

He placed a hand on the man's shoulder, trying to end the uncomfortable moment. "Take care of your family. That's all I ask."

"Now go. I need to think."

The villagers slowly left, many leaving their gifts by the door. He closed it and sighed, sitting back down.

"System," he muttered. "If this keeps up, I'll need more than patience."

[You've gained their trust. This could prove useful in the future.]

"Useful, huh?" He leaned back in his chair. "We'll see."

...

Later that day, the entire village buzzed with whispers about the stranger, each person trying to figure out how to get on his good side.

Some spoke of gifts, others of favors—everyone seemed eager to win his favor in hopes of gaining something from his mysterious presence.

Amid the chatter, an old man, his hair and beard as white as snow, walked slowly through the village. His eyes, though pale and clouded. He was blind, but his senses were keen, and his ears picked up the muttered conversations surrounding him.

"Hmmm," he murmured, his voice a soft rasp as he stopped in the center of the village square. He tilted his head slightly, listening more intently to the murmurs that floated through the air.

In the distance, a few villagers noticed the old man and began to fall silent. Some bowed their heads, acknowledging his presence, but others still whispered.

The old man's reputation preceded him—he was the village's seer.

The whispers died down as the old man approached a group of villagers.

"I've heard your talk," the old man continued, his tone heavy with authority. "This man who saves lives with his blood. You call him a savior, but be wary, for not all is as it seems." His pale eyes, though unseeing, seemed to pierce through the crowd. "Do not trust anyone so easily."

The villagers stood frozen, some exchanging uneasy glances.

The old man's reputation as the village seer gave his words power, and they felt the weight of his warning pressing down on them.

One of the villagers, a young woman with bright eyes, stepped forward. "But Master… he saved a life. Isn't that enough?"

The old man's lip curled in a thin smile. "You think saving a life is enough to prove his worth? You know nothing of what lies behind such actions. magic, even the healing kind, is a dangerous thing. There are always costs, hidden debts, and in the end, it's the innocent who pay the price."

A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd.

"I know this man," the old man said, his voice low and deliberate. "He is not who he claims to be. He is no healer, no saint. He is a dark mage, practicing forbidden arts. and if you continue to trust him, this village will pay the price."

The crowd shifted uncomfortably, some nodding at his words, while others began to look troubled.

The old man, sensing the rising tension, raised his hand, silencing the whispers. "I have spoken my piece. You must all decide for yourselves whether you will allow this darkness to take root in your village."

With that, the old man turned and walked slowly toward the edge of the square, his staff tapping with each step. The villagers watched him go, uncertainty thick in the air.

Meanwhile, back at his house, he sat calmly, already aware of the stir his presence had caused. He had heard the the old man's speech, carried to him by the ever-curious villagers.

The old man's tactics were clear: try to sow distrust, to turn the villagers against him, to drive him out of the village.

"System," he said, his tone even. "What do you think of this?"

[The seer is attempting to manipulate the villagers' fears to expel you. His influence over them is considerable, but not insurmountable.]

A small smirk tugged at his lips. "Of course. That's what he's after. But I can turn this around. Let's see how he handles a little pressure."