Tyler checked his status menu again. He saw that the Bash skill was now listed among his other abilities, its mana cost displayed as 15. "So that's where I use mana," he murmured.

Tyler put the Bashing Hammer away in his inventory; the weapon shimmering with blue light before vanishing. He left his room and entered the sitting room where Grone and Lisa sat eating. He quietly joined them, and they resumed their meal in silence. He and Grone didn't exchange a word. Grone and his wife began discussing Lisa's recent visit to her mother, a conversation Tyler largely ignored.

After dinner, Tyler retired to his room to rest. He lay in bed, his thoughts turning to the Bash skill. He wasn't sure how it worked. Would he use it like the slimes did? Or was the hammer itself the key? The uncertainty made him anxious, delaying his sleep later than usual.

He eventually fell asleep, but woke early as usual, intending to go to the market. Entering the sitting room, he found it empty. He considered knocking on Grone and Lisa's bedroom door, but decided against it. "Nah, I'll let them be," he thought. "After all, I've got to learn how to do things myself around here." He set off alone, his leather training bag slung over his shoulder, heading for the marketplace.

He went straight to the waiting wagons and found four of them. Choosing one, he told the driver he wanted to leave town. Tyler paid him with two copper coins, and the driver, with a disappointed expression, returned to town. Tyler then headed towards the training grounds. He knew Grone would be at work today, so he didn't want to bother him. After all, Grone needed to level up too.

Reaching his usual training tree, he removed his leather bag and repacked the training stones. After securing them, he began his press-ups. "One, two, three..." he counted, already knowing he aimed for four hundred. By three hundred, his chest and abdomen burned, his shoulders screaming in protest. But he pushed on, "301, 302..." groaning with exertion. Finally, completing his four hundred and first press-up, he collapsed onto the ground with a relieved sigh, his chest hitting the earth.

Tyler removed his bag and sat in a lotus position, beginning his meditation. He focused on sensing his mana. He knew there was more to it, more potential. He recalled touching the orb; they'd said he couldn't properly channel his mana. That wasn't entirely true; the orb hadn't seemed to require mana channeling. But what if he could learn to truly channel it? What then?

Standing, Tyler remembered the Bashing Hammer. He wanted to test the skill. Summoning it from his inventory, the hammer materialized in his hand. The weight was substantial; the head was large, a bit bigger than a standard brick. He pondered how to use the skill.

He felt mana coursing through his body, tingling at his fingertips. "I wonder if..." he murmured, attempting to channel mana into the hammer. It felt like a part of him, yet also something he could release, like breath or liquid. He felt it then—the mana flowing from his hand, extending into the hammer. It was almost visible, like an incredibly faint blue flame, though he couldn't see it directly.

He swung, turning to strike the tree behind him. The impact was brutal; the sound a deep thwack that vibrated through Tyler's arms. The tree shuddered, square leaves fluttering momentarily before settling back into place, a deep gouge now marring its bark. Tyler realized he hadn't used the Bash skill. How did it work? He concentrated, focusing mana into the hammer, his eyes squeezed shut. When he opened them, a faint blue light flashed in his pupils for a second. He struck the tree again. The system message appeared: Bash skill activated. This time, the impact was different. It wasn't just a blow; it was an explosion of force. The sound was deafening, a sharp crack followed by the splintering of wood. The tree, its square leaves momentarily askew, buckled and fell with a heavy thud.

He was surprised. Part of the bark seemed to be clinging on, holding the rest of the tree—which was completely bent over, branches scraping the ground like a heavy cloth draped downwards. It was astonishing. He checked his status menu; his mana had decreased by fifteen points.

SPECIES: Human

NAME: Tyler Evans

RANK: F LVL: 15

CLASS: Craftsman

HP: 60/60 MP: 45/60

STR: 49 AGI: 42 DEF: 61

STM: 33

STATUS: Healthy

Skills: Armour Craft, Weapon Craft, Weapon Mastery, Bash( Mana consumption 15)

He noticed his agility had dropped by three points and his strength by two. Could it be because he wasn't equipped with his iron sword or copper daggers? He hadn't considered how they affected his stats. He realized he could only equip one item at a time that impacted his stats. The Bashing Hammer, it seemed, didn't boost any of his attributes. But it had a tremendous advantage: he could use the slime skill.

It was incredible. He put his bashing hammer back into his inventory, and it disappeared from his hands. He carried his rock-filled bag and began his run, back and forth between the training tree and his chosen landmark. Thirty repetitions was the plan; he needed to be utterly exhausted to maximize his training. By the thirtieth run, his back screamed in protest. He dropped the bag, resting his back on the ground, staring up at the sky, breathing heavily.

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He looked at the sun, then spotted something brown moving in the sky. "What a beautiful bird," he murmured, then paused. "Wait, what?" Since arriving in this world, he'd seen almost no birds, except for that one dragon-like creature and the craven. Was this normal? The bird seemed to be circling something. Then, with terrifying speed, it swooped down from the sky. Alarmed, Tyler scrambled to his feet.

The system announced, Elin: level 25, as the creature hurtled towards him, its wings making a sound like an eagle's cry. Tyler materialized his iron sword, his heart pounding. A level 25 monster in a non-monster zone? He had no time for questions; it was time to prepare for an attack.

The system announced, Elin has used skill: Cyclone Wings. The Elin, poised to unleash its own skill, was met by Tyler, who had assumed the defensive stance Grone had taught him, ready to parry whatever attack came. As the Elin closed the distance, its wings slapped down.

A sudden, powerful gust of wind—unlike anything he'd ever experienced—rushed towards him. This wind wasn't just air; it was visible, a swirling, curved blade of air aimed directly at his heart. The air itself seemed to crackle with raw power. He raised his sword to parry, but the moment steel met this unnatural wind, a sharp cling echoed as his blade shattered. The force of the blow slammed into him, a physical impact that sent him spinning end over end through the air. Before he even hit the ground, before the world stopped spinning, he materialized his two copper daggers in his hands, their cold metal a stark contrast to the burning pain in his stomach. He landed hard, the breath knocked from his lungs, but even as the wind died down, the ringing in his ears persisted. He pushed himself up, daggers held ready.

He sprinted towards the Elin, its massive wings beating the air into a frenzy. The system message :Weapon Master activated blazed briefly in his vision, instantly dismissed. He launched the first copper dagger, a blur of bronze against the swirling wind, aiming for a gap between the creature's powerful wings. The Elin, however, anticipated the attack. As the dagger approached, a sudden burst of air erupted from its wings, a focused gust that deflected the dagger with a sharp *fshhh*, sending it skittering harmlessly across the ground. Frustration fueled his next throw. This time, he used a deceptive underhand toss, aiming for the Elin's exposed flank. The dagger whistled through the air, only to meet another precisely aimed burst of air from the Elin's wings—a resounding bwush—sending the dagger flying. He knew he couldn't win with daggers. The Elin was using its wing-generated gusts to counter his attacks, not simply batting them aside. Leaping into the air, a roar building in his chest, he materialized the Bashing Hammer, its weight a comforting presence in his hands. As the Elin prepared another Cyclone Wings attack, the air itself seeming to distort around the creature's wings, Tyler activated the Bash skill. He met the oncoming, visible vortex of wind with a mighty swing, the hammer connecting with a solid, visceral thud, a deep impact that sent a shockwave through his body and a powerful gust buffeted him. The force of the blow, however, was immense; he felt the wind recoil, a tangible resistance against his attack.

The attack vanished, but Tyler, having already launched himself upward, continued his momentum. With a roar, he swung the Bashing Hammer in a powerful arc, the iron head connecting with a resounding thwack against the Elin's chest. The system message, "Bash skill activated," appeared as a blue screen flashed before his eyes. A thunderous thud echoed as the hammer met its mark. The force of the blow sent the Elin sprawling backward and downwards, crashing heavily to the ground.

Tyler, too, lost his balance from the force of the blow, hitting the ground hard with his chest. He pushed himself up, breathing heavily, his body screaming in protest. He had expended 45 mana. He approached the fallen Elin, its body a massive, oddly shaped form on the ground. It was brown, with a white chest, and roughly the size of a large kite—though far more menacing. What was truly unsettling, however, were its three eyes: one in the center of its forehead, with two smaller eyes positioned on either side.

The Elin shuddered, its two legs trembling slightly. Green blood flowed from its beak, staining the ground. Tyler looked down at the creature. "You're in pain, huh?" he murmured, a copper dagger materializing in his hand. "I'll just finish you off," he said, and plunged the dagger into the Elin's neck. A strange, cackling sound escaped the creature before it went still. Then, something astonishing happened. Tyler's system messages indicated that he had leveled up.

A message appeared beside the Elin's corpse: Extract. Tyler didn't hesitate. "Yes, extract," he replied. The system confirmed, Extraction successful. His inventory automatically opened, revealing a new icon: a feather. The number "60" sat beside it. Sixty feathers. He looked down at the Elin's now nearly bare body; the missing feathers were obvious. Then, with a final shimmer, the creature vanished completely.

Tyler sighed, a long, weary sound. "I don't think I can train anymore," he muttered, glancing around the now unsettlingly quiet training grounds. "This place has become too dangerous. What if another monster shows up?" He decided it was time to go. He retrieved his leather bag, emptying its contents—the harvested stones—onto the ground. Taking the now-empty bag, he headed towards the main road. As he walked, the image of his battle with the Elin replayed in his mind. He smiled, a slow, self-satisfied grin spreading across his face. He was stronger than he'd ever been.

Reaching the main road, Tyler waited. A wagon appeared, approaching swiftly from the direction of the Crossroads base. "That was fast," he mused, a prickle of unease rising within him. It was unusual for a wagon to appear so suddenly. But something about it felt wrong. Two men sat on the back, their faces clearly visible in the daylight. Both bore numerous scars, and their expressions were hard, menacing. He wasn't sure he should trust them, but the lure of a ride home was too strong to resist. He climbed aboard.

The ride was silent and tense, Tyler's heart drumming a nervous rhythm against his ribs. He then noticed a small smear of the Elin's green blood on his leg. The man sitting behind him saw it too. He turned, his gaze lingering on the stain. His voice, when he spoke, was a low groan, deep and unsettling. "Are you a hunter?"

Tyler stammered, "Um, no, I'm not."

The man's eyes narrowed. "Oh? Then where did you get that blood?"

Tyler swallowed hard. "I... I ran into a monster recently. I barely survived, but I managed to kill it."

"What? You ran into a monster out here?" The man's voice was laced with disbelief.

"Yes," Tyler replied, "I ran into a monster. I was surprised too, but I was left with no choice but to kill it since it attacked me."

"Did you hear that?" the man said, turning to his companion. "This brat killed a monster that showed up here."

The other man considered this. "Well, it happens, but it's very rare. If anything, he's the most unlucky bastard we've ever met." They laughed, clapping Tyler on the back with surprising force.

Driven by curiosity, Tyler glanced at the men. His system instantly displayed their levels: the man across from him was level 74; the other, level 71. His heart pounded. These weren't just ordinary travelers. The memory of his previous encounter—a brutal beating and robbery—sent a fresh wave of fear through him. What were these men capable of? Lost in thought, he barely registered their arrival at the town gates. The wagon rumbled through, finally stopping in the bustling marketplace.

The two men climbed down from the wagon, their conversation a mixture of laughter and low tones. Tyler could only catch snatches of their words: "...do you think Barnardo will be able to pay us?" one asked. The other chuckled, a harsh, grating sound. "Ha, he knows we'll kill him if he doesn't." More laughter followed. Relieved that nothing worse had happened, Tyler paid the driver two copper coins and, once the wagon had moved on, made his way through the marketplace and back towards Grone's house.

As he reached the edge of Grone's yard, a sharp poke in his back made him yelp. He spun around, his hand instinctively going to his weapon, only to find a young girl standing there. She wore a brown cloak, stained and dirty, her face smudged with grime. Her eyes, however, were surprisingly clear and held a look of almost desperate apology. "Say," she began, her voice hesitant, "can I sell you this dagger?" Tyler stared at her, a strange mixture of pity and fascination washing over him. Despite the dirt and worn clothing, there was an undeniable beauty about her that captivated him.