My consciousness slowly came back. The first thing I felt was pain all over my body. My muscles ached and my skin felt like it was burning.

Something was pulling on my winter coat. I opened my bleary eyes and saw Clop's face inches from mine. She was munching on my winter coat.

“No, not my coat!”

I scrambled away from the gluttonous horse and stood up on shaky legs. I looked down on my coat and feared the worst, but I sighed in relief when there was no damage, only the dampness of horse saliva. Seeing the panther cut through my fabrics so easily made me forget they were more durable than the norm. At least durable enough to withstand a horse's bite.

My mind suddenly froze when I remembered the panther. I immediately activated my fabric sense, but I breathed easily once I realized it was nowhere near me. Although my breath caught when I sensed the goblins inside the wagon.

I quickly limped to the back of the wagon and peeked through the large hole where my door used to be. Inside were the goblins I put there earlier. Or rather, what was left of them. Dark red blood splattered the walls and counters of my wagon, and on the floor, the brutalized remains of the goblins lay scattered.

For a moment, I felt bad for the little goblins. Sure, they tried to kill me, but they were nothing more than children. I understood that they were just a part of the ecosystem that was the Wild Woods and that they were just one of many available prey, but the panther didn't even eat them. It just ravaged the goblins violently and left. That panther wasn't normal.

Aside from the fact that it seemed to kill for fun, it didn't kill me. I had been vulnerable and unconscious, and yet it just went for the goblins and left. Based on the stories I heard of monsters, they would always go for the kill. Unlike sentient beings, monsters acted more like animals. The only reason they attacked was for food and survival, but the panther did none of that. Maybe I don't taste that good?

I looked at Clop, who was eyeing me hungrily. Nah, I think I taste great.

I decided to just move on and forget the panther for the moment. There were far more important things to do, like my wounds for example.

I sat myself down on the ground slowly, wincing as my burns stung. Compared to earlier, the pain wasn't so bad anymore, but it still hurt like a bitch. Carefully, I used my Authority to peel off my thread suit from my body, which turned out to be a wrong move.

“Damn, that hurts!”

My thread suit wasn't the only one that peeled off my body, but my skin as well. Anywhere I had a burn, my skin had fused to the fabric of my thread suit, and it was painful. I stopped taking off my thread suit and wiped at my eyes. I wasn't crying, just… moistening my dry eyes. Yes, let's go with that.

Instead of taking off my thread suit, I decided to heal my wounds first with Life magic. My mana level was currently at about eighty percent. Before I passed out, my mana was at about twenty percent, and since one percent of my mana regenerated every minute, that means I was passed out for an hour in the middle of the Wild Woods, defenseless. I'm surprised no other predator had come to eat me yet. Aside from Clop.

Slowly, I cast the second-circle Life spell Mend on my wounds one by one. It was a pretty weak healing spell, but I had no choice since it was the only one I knew. I wanted to buy a book about healing spells back at Vont, but unfortunately, they cost lots of gold I didn't have.

Mend didn't heal wounds instantly but rather accelerated the body's natural healing process. After casting it, I felt my burn wounds itch. It's probably going to take several days before I'm fully healed, and during that time, I'm not supposed to use my mana to avoid aggravating my wounds. I hope the panther doesn't show up anymore.

With my wounds treated, I started cleaning up my wagon. I made a quick burial of the goblins' remains first to prevent other monsters from smelling the blood. Nothing came during the past hour that I was unconscious, but it doesn't hurt to be more cautious.

The cleanup took far longer without the help of my Authority, but thankfully, the most dangerous creature in the vicinity was a cute rabbit watching me with a twitching nose. I had a passing thought to kill the rabbit and gather its fur to help me replace all the fabric I lost fighting the panther, but I didn't bother going through with it. It'd be better and more efficient to hunt a larger animal like a wolf or deer if I wanted to gather fur.

When everything was as clean as could be, I fed my horses and continued on my journey. All my senses were vigilant for any possible threat, but no more monsters showed up. Clip and Clop shot fearful glances at the thick undergrowth around us from time to time, paranoid about another possible panther attack. My nerves were on edge as well and I found myself flinching from strange noises, but after hours of monotony, I finally calmed down. I guess the panther's not coming back to finish me off or something.

My thoughts wandered back to the panther attack. As much as I tried to think of a possible reason why the panther let me go, the only thing I could think of was that maybe it thought I was dead. It was a pretty far-fetched possibility, but with no other clues or information, it was the only reason I could think of. I don't even know the species of that monster or its traits, so it's hard to make conjectures. I bet that panther was at least a B-rank.

Instead of further wasting my time wondering about its behavior, my thoughts turned to how I handled the attack. I initially thought that I handled it pretty well, but looking back in hindsight, I could have done a few things differently that would have let me win against it.

For instance, I should have been using my threads to form magic circles to cast magic right from the start to avoid any backlashes if my spell ever failed or gets disrupted. I was lucky I didn't suffer much when the panther destroyed my spell and caused me to suffer the backlash, but if the same thing happened again the next time I found myself in combat, it'd probably be the death of me.

Another thing I should have done was to be conservative with my use of fabric. Looking back, I was pretty inefficient. I used eight spider legs to keep myself stable on top of the moving wagon when four were probably enough to do the same job and achieve the same results, and I didn't even bother reclaiming the threadtacles that missed the panther during the chase. If I had been calm enough to think, I would have made the threadtacles that exploded into nets make a u-turn when they missed, or heck, I could have made them into homing missiles that followed the panther around until they hit just to avoid wasting my fabric.

And lastly, I didn't use all the resources I have at my disposal. Sure, my Wild magic and Authority were my strongest weapons, but didn't I just loot an enchanted sword from the bandit I killed several days ago? The magic blade could have been the weapon I needed to pierce the panther's hide. Or what about my Life magic? The Metabolize spell needed direct contact with the target to be successfully cast, but couldn't I have done it by creating a magic circle at the end of my threadtacle and using it to touch the panther?

Now that I was calm again and had the advantage of hindsight, I groaned in frustration once I realized all the possible things I could have done to fight the overgrown cat. This incident made me realize that just because I had a lot of power didn't mean I could use it to its full potential. Even if I had my Authority for years already, it has only been less than a year since I used it for battle, so I had little experience in using it in combat. I'm like a kid with a computer that has the best programming software. I could technically create a good program, but I don't know how.

As I thought of ways to further improve my combat capability, I suddenly made a big realization that made my jaw drop. Since one of my flaws in combat was that I easily miss obvious things when I was in the thick of things, why not just keep me out of the battle in the first place? I'm not talking about not fighting at all, I'm talking about keeping the fight away from myself. If this works, this may be the best idea I ever had since I was born.

I quickly pushed myself out of my thread suit's back. The winter air was cold against my naked form, but it did not dampen my excitement. Using my Authority, I manipulated Mr. Marion to get up and start walking beside the wagon. At first, Mr. Marion walked with a weird and irregular gait since I was used to moving him from inside while also considering my weight, but after a minute, I managed to refine my control and make my thread suit walk normally like a real person.

Next, I made my thread suit draw the enchanted sword on his hip. Mr. Marion waved the sword around clumsily, and I had to move him farther from the wagon lest he accidentally strike one of my horses.

Mr. Marion continued to wave the enchanted sword around, the clumsy movements slowly improving. After a few minutes, I finally got the hang of it and Mr. Marion was now performing simple attacks I could think of. With this, I no longer have to put myself in danger!

A small chuckle escaped my lips, which slowly turned into bouts of laughter. I sensed Clip and Clop looking back at me weirdly, but I ignored them. My joy in learning this new technique was so great that I lost control of Mr. Marion. I felt my thread suit fall to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut, but a simple thought was enough to make him walk alongside the wagon again. How did I not think of this method of fighting sooner? Making Mr. Marion fight while I stay safe from a distance essentially makes me unbeatable! After all, how could I be beaten in a fight if I wasn't there in the first place?

The implications of my new discovery were massive. Now that I no longer had to fight my enemies directly, I would no longer have to worry so much about my well-being. This means I could assess the battle calmly from a hidden location while Mr. Marion does all the fighting for me.

Me being absent from Mr. Marion's insides also meant that my thread suit easily became a much more dangerous adversary. Now that Mr. Marion no longer has to protect a precious cargo inside his body, he could practically fight enemies without regard for his own well-being. After all, Mr. Marion was just a puppet, and even if he gets damaged, I could easily patch him up as long as I had a supply of fabric.

And lastly, I could make plenty more thread suits like Mr. Marion and use them all to fight my enemies for me. If I had an abundant supply of fabric, I could make dozens, maybe even hundreds of Mr. Marions and I wouldn't ever have to move a single finger whenever I needed to fight.

Again, I found myself racked with uncontrollable laughter as I thought of countless possibilities with my thread suits. On second thought, Mr. Marion is no longer a thread suit, is he? From now on, I'll refer to him and other future thread suits as ‘puppets.’

Unfortunately, even with the strengths of my new puppet technique, it still has its limitations. For one, it requires a lot of fabric to create even a single puppet. Mr. Marion alone required enough fabric to create about a hundred adult-sized clothes, and that's with his insides hollow. If I were to create a new puppet with its insides filled with fabric, it might require double the amount of fabric it took to create Mr. Marion.

Another limitation was that I had to see the battle my puppet was in. Even if I could sense my puppet with my fabric sense, the same doesn't apply to all my enemies. If I wanted Mr. Marion to fight effectively, I had to watch the fight from a distance so that I could control my puppet in accordance with the enemy's actions. Watching from a distance should be safer than participating in battle directly, but there was still a risk of the enemy spotting me and going for me instead. Maybe I could ‘see’ through my puppet's eyes…

The moment I thought of it, another field of vision suddenly popped up in my mind, one that displayed the forest outside the wagon. It was like having another set of eyes apart from the one I had.

The sudden appearance of a new set of eyes in my mind sent me off balance inside the wagon. I found myself stumbling to the floor, and seeing two different sceneries at once made me sick. I immediately willed the second set of eyes to disappear from my mind and it immediately went away. Damn, that was so confusing.

Despite my new headache, another bubble of excitement went through me. Looks like I discovered another ability of my Authority.

Once again, I wish I had a complete list of the abilities my Authority has. I could only imagine how much potential I was wasting not knowing what I could possibly do. I'm like a soldier fighting my enemies with a sword not knowing I had a gun holstered on my hip. Or it's also possible that these are all the abilities I have and there's nothing else hidden.

There was no use thinking about things I had no control over, so I decided to just train my new technique while I continued my journey. I decided to call this technique “puppeteering.”

With a remotely-controlled puppet waving around a dangerous enchanted sword like a madman beside them, Clip and Clop pulled the wagon closer and closer to our destination.

●●●

A loud squeal rang throughout the forest as the biggest wild boar I had ever seen charged towards Mr. Marion. The tall and lanky figure of my puppet just stared at the oncoming beast, unmoving, with his enchanted sword already drawn from its scabbard.

Right before the wild boar reached Mr. Marion, he quickly stepped to the side, the boar's tusk missing him by less than an inch. Right as the large beast passed him by, he lifted his sword and sliced through the boar's side.

The boar cried out in pain and anger as the deep wound on its side bled profusely, but before it could turn around and perform another charge, Mr. Marion rushed towards the boar and pierced its head with his sword, instantly killing it.

Despite the flawless kill, I had no time to rejoice as another boar charged out of the underbrush. It was larger than the first, but it was faster and had more momentum. I intended to make Mr. Marion withdraw the sword from the first boar's head and dodge the second boar, but the blade got stuck. By the time I decided to leave the sword behind, the second boar was already upon Mr. Marion and hit him with the force of a truck.

Mr. Marion flew through the air like a ragdoll, which he technically is, bounced between several trees, and landed on the forest floor violently, his limbs twisting every which way. If Mr. Marion was a real person, I would have already heard bones crunching and blood splattering, but he was basically just a cloth puppet.

Like something straight out of a horror movie, Mr. Marion stood up, his comedy mask still fixed on his face. His arms were twisted in the wrong directions and his torso was a mess of torn fabric with a gaping hole in the middle. Despite their plain appearance, the boar's tusks must have been pretty sharp to destroy my fabric that easily.

Mr. Marion's “wounds” wriggled and started repairing themselves. Since he was made of fabric, I guess one could say Mr. Marion was “knitting himself back together.” Hah!

In seconds, Mr. Marion was back to being himself, his body whole and repaired. I made my puppet dust himself nonchalantly to make it seem as if the boar's attack didn't affect him the slightest. Style is always important in battle!

The boar squealed again in anger and began to charge once more, but before the large beast could gather momentum, Mr. Marion flew through the air towards the boar's face. Since my puppet was made entirely of cloth, I could just move him through the air and make him fly.

The boar seemed shocked and tried to slash its tusks at Mr. Marion, but I made my puppet disassemble his body, separating his limbs and head from his torso.

Mr. Marion reformed right on top of the boar's head and rode like a cowboy as the beast tried to throw him off. I turned one of Mr. Marion's hands into a sharp spike and drove it through the boar's eye, reaching its brain. The boar fell to the ground lifelessly.

With the two threats eliminated, I used my Authority to lightly tug the threads attached to Clip and Clop forward, signaling them to start walking, up until we reached the site of the battle where I signaled them to stop again.

While the battle was happening earlier, the wagon where I was in was actually just fifteen meters away. I would have preferred being farther from the battle than that, but since I'm not yet proficient in my ability to see through the eyes of my puppet, I had to be present in the battle itself. When I finally reach my destination and settle down, I'm going to train my skills like crazy.

Right now, I was currently inside a large cocoon of soft fabric to keep myself warm, with only my head peeking out. Eight spider legs were attached to the sides so I could move around without having to move my body, along with some threadtacles to grab stuff with. Yes, ever since I learned that I could control Mr. Marion from a distance, I turned into a… not lazy, but rather, an energy-conserving individual. Yup, that sounds about right.

With my body wrapped around in a large cocoon with several spider legs, I truly looked like a spider monster this time, although, unlike a spider, my head was not at the front but rather at the top of the “abdomen.” I think I looked more like the giant evil robot in that movie about a family of incredible superheroes. I think I'm going to name this puppet I'm riding on Spider.

Still riding on Spider, I exited the wagon and inspected the corpses of the boars gathered together by Mr. Marion. The boars' appearance were far from what I was familiar with. These had four eyes and four tusks, and their hooves were made of metal. These weird body parts easily gave away that these are monsters rather than normal animals.

Since they were already dead, this meant that I could now use my Authority on their hair. Using my Authority, I pulled the boars' hair out of their skin with a loud ripping noise. It sounded gross, but after doing the same thing to all the prey I killed since I left Erfeld, I was already used to it.

I examined the boar's hair to assess them. Unlike the furs of dire wolves or any other furred animal I hunted so far, the boar's hair I held in my hand was stiffer. Instead of hair, I think it'd be more apt to call them bristles. With their stiff nature, these bristles would be more fitting for clothing made for protection rather than comfort. This would be a good material to upgrade Mr. Marion with.

Since these bristles came from monsters, it means they're stronger than mundane materials. Even in my mana sense, I could tell that the boars' hair had more mana in them compared to mundane materials, just like the fur I harvested from dire wolves.

I sent the large pile of hair to my wagon where I would spin them into usable threads later. But before that, I would have to take harvest some meat from the boars. When I said “I,” I meant Mr. Marion, of course. I need to uh… conserve my energy for any possible emergencies.

With that, I made Mr. Marion start cutting up the boar carcasses with the enchanted sword after draining them of blood. Since I had little space left in my wagon, I decided to just take only a small portion of meat, although I did make sure to take their valuable tusks which I tied to the roof of my wagon. So after cutting away the tasty bits, I buried what remained of the boars in the forest soil as fertilizer or something.

With that finished, I went back inside the wagon while Mr. Marion went back to the driver's seat.

“Wait, hold up right there, Mr. Marion.”

Before Mr. Marion returned to the driver's seat, I detached his entire right arm from his torso and tossed it away into the forest. It was soaked in boar's blood, and it wouldn't do to mess up Mr. Marion's getup with bloodstains.

I retrieved some fabric from the wagon and made Mr. Marion a brand new arm, clean and fine. Some might think it a waste to throw away fabric like that just because of stains, but I wouldn't want to mess up Mr. Marion's good looks. First appearances were vital, especially when I was nearing my destination.

I had a surplus of fabric anyway. Over the past week, encounters with monsters had become more frequent, giving me a constant supply of fur and hair to spin into threads. Besides, as long as the fabric was used for beauty and fashion, then it wasn't a waste.

I looked up at the path ahead of us. Starting several days ago, the road had begun sloping upwards. Through the small gaps of the Wild Woods' thick canopy, I could see a looming mountain range. That should be the Sunrise Mountains.

Seeing the mountain range gave me relief. It was proof that I was heading in the right direction. Once I arrive at my destination, then I'd finally be able to bury Mom.

●●●

An old man strolled through the streets of Wildpost village with a kind smile on his face. As usual, he did his morning walk around the village he lived in for the past forty years, nodding in satisfaction as his gaze passed by the humble buildings and homes. In his hand was a long staff he used as a cane to support his aging body, so everywhere he went, his footsteps would always be accompanied by the tap tap tap of his staff against the ground.

Whenever the people of Wildpost heard the tapping of his staff, they immediately knew it was the old man, and as always, they greeted him cheerfully whenever he passed them by.

Helping this place grow from a small hunting community to the biggest village in the Wild Woods is the best accomplishment I have ever done in my entire life, the old man thought as he finally arrived at his destination, the village center where most of the shops were located.

Right in the middle of the village center was a small fenced-off area where an old, weathered signpost still stood. The letters on the signpost were rendered illegible from years of weathering, but despite its deteriorated condition, it was perhaps the most valued object within Wildpost, for it was the source of the village's namesake.

The old man reminisced as he saw the old signpost before proceeding to one of the largest wooden buildings in the village center. He knocked on the door with the end of his staff thrice before entering.

The interior of the building consisted of a large space with shelves lining up the walls. Various herbs and ingredients filled the shelves, their sharp aromas mixing to fill the shop with a distinctive herbal smell.

“Good morning, welcome to the Bitter Philter,” greeted the middle-aged woman standing behind the counter. Her black hair was tied up in a bun and an apron adorned her front. Her eyes widened upon seeing the old man. “Oh, I didn't expect to see you this early in the morning, Chief. What brings you here?”

“Good morning, Kath. I was wondering if you had anything that could relieve muscle pain? My back has been killing me recently and I don't think I could keep working in this state,” the old man, the Chief, replied while rubbing his back, wincing as he did so.

“That's why I've been telling you to take it easy, Chief. I know you want to keep helping the village and all, but you're not as young as you were,” Kath said as she searched the shelves behind her. She found what she was looking for and retrieved a small bottle of ointment.

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

“You know I can't just stand around while the village needs my help,” the Chief replied, accepting the bottle of ointment and handing several copper coins to the alchemist. “As long as I'm alive, I'm gonna work these old bones for the sake of the village.”

Kath sighed in resignation. “The village is not the small community you once knew, Chief. Even if you were to spend the rest of your days lounging around doing nothing, the village would still manage without you, and I'm sure the villagers wouldn't hate you for it, especially since you're the one who has been building this community your entire life.”

The Chief simply chuckled. “That is the reason I'm continuing my work, Kath. I can't just let the community I built for many years go down in flames before I kick the bucket, can I?”

The old man grinned as he left the shop and heard the alchemist sigh behind him. With his pain-relieving ointment acquired, he proceeded to his next destination, which was also in the village center.

After a short walk, the Chief arrived at a small building with a smithy built beside it. The noise of a hammer hitting steel constantly rang out from inside in a steady rhythm, drowning out any other sound in the vicinity, so the Chief didn't bother knocking on the door and just entered.

The Chief's smile became a bit strained once he entered the smithy. Even if several open windows allowed a steady flow of air, the smithy was still extremely hot from the blazing furnace.

On the other side of the room was the forge, where a large bearded man wearing a blacksmithing apron was hammering away at a sword. Sweat steadily dripped down his face, but his expression was neutral, as if the heat from the furnace right beside him didn't bother him at all.

On the contrary, the young man wearing the same attire as the blacksmith looked like he was about to collapse. He was operating the bellows responsible for keeping the furnace burning, but unlike the seasoned blacksmith, the young man appeared to be on the last stretch of his stamina.

For one last time, the blacksmith plunged the sword into the fire, hammered away the last few imperfections, then quenched it in a large barrel of water beside the forge. He assessed the sword in his hands for a moment before nodding in satisfaction.

At the blacksmith's nod, the young man operating the bellows slumped down on the ground, his face and clothes drenched with sweat. The Chief chuckled at the young man's plight. Brings back memories of my time as an apprentice, the old man thought.

The two men heard the Chief's chuckle and looked at the smithy's entrance. With the loud noise of the bellows and the hammering of steel, they usually didn't notice if anybody entered the smithy while they worked. Somebody was supposed to greet customers that entered the workshop, but nobody else seemed to be in the smithy aside from the blacksmith and his apprentice.

“Chief,” the blacksmith greeted curtly with a deep voice.

“Oh hey, Old Man Bran. If you're looking for Selise, she ran off to who-knows-where,” the young man said, still slumped on the floor.

“Good morning to you both. I'm not here for Selise today, actually. I just wanted to check how the weapons production is faring. Is everything going well, Master Bersk?” Chief Bran asked the large man.

“There's not enough iron to finish the order,” Bersk replied seriously. “There's only enough for three swords and five helmets, and I'll be able to finish them within the week.”

“Not enough iron?” the Chief asked with concern. “Didn't Kane just bring a new batch of iron when he came a few days ago?”

“He did bring some, but it was less than the usual,” Bersk replied with a frown. “But at least it was enough to finish all the arrowheads and spearheads.”

Chief Bran grimaced. “Well, that should be enough, I suppose. Our hunters prefer the bow and arrow anyway. So, how's your training going along, young Terence?” the Chief asked the young man, changing the topic to a much lighter one.

“Ah, if only you knew what kind of hell I experience every day, Old Bran,” Terence replied dramatically. He heard his master snort by the forge. “Hey, I'm being serious here!”

“Well, you were the one that chose to be Bersk's apprentice, yes?” Chief Bran asked with amusement. “Although I must say, I didn't think you wanted smithing as a profession. I'm sure I remember you saying when you were young that you wanted to go join the army when you grow up.”

“W-Well, I realized soldiers probably live very short lives, so I decided to be a blacksmith and stay here,” Terence replied sheepishly, his eyes darting to Bersk nervously.

“He just wants to fuck my daughter,” Bersk said bluntly while wiping the newly-forged sword with a rag, eliciting a loud guffaw from the Chief.

“W-What?!” Terence shouted incredulously.

“Are you saying you don't want my daughter as your wife?” Bersk asked with a glare.

Terence took one short look at his master holding a sword while glaring at him and immediately changed his tune. “O-Of course I want to marry Selise, Master. But I have to make myself worthy of her before I do. She deserves only the perfect man and I'll strive to be one so I could take her hand in marriage someday,” Terence said sincerely.

Bersk continued staring at his nervous apprentice for a few more moments, much to the young man's anxiety, before grunting and continuing his work. “I'm going to tell Selise what you said today.”

“Now hold on just a moment, Master,” Terence started.

The Chief simply chuckled at the duo's antics and decided to excuse himself now that his goal was done. “I'll be taking my leave, Master Bersk. If I see Selise, I'll make sure to relay your heartfelt words to her, young Terence.”

“Old Bran, not you too!”

The Chief simply chuckled in reply and left the smithy. Last on his list of errands for this morning was to talk to the head of the hunters and inform her of the delay with the weapons.

Chief Bran slowly made his way to the southern village entrance, where the hunters usually performed their morning drills and practice. His earlier good mood after visiting the smithy waned when he passed by the ruins of a wooden house near the village entrance.

When he finally arrived near the edge of the village, what greeted him was the sight of a wooden wall built from thick logs driven into the ground and a large fortified gate that served as the entrance to the village. There were no buildings within the vicinity of the walls and the large space was instead used by the village's hunters to train their skills.

“Ready! Fire!”

Chief Bran heard a barked command, which was followed by the sounds of bows firing and arrows hitting. Lined up against the walls were dozens of practice targets that faced the hunters-in-training, a group of young men and women that aspire to join the ranks of the village's hunters.

Chief Bran's expression was one of confusion. Instead of the Head Hunter, the person conducting the training was her second-in-command, Dalton. As far as he knew, the Head Hunter always strived to train every batch of hunters herself.

“Dalton,” Chief Bran called out as he approached the man barking orders at the trainees.

Dalton, a lithe but muscled man, turned around after hearing the Chief's voice. “Chief! I'm glad you're here!”

Chief Bran got even more confused after hearing Dalton's words. “Did you call for me?”

“Well, I was about to send a messenger, but it's better that you're here personally, Chief. Head Hunter Belka departed earlier and told me to inform you that a stranger is making their way to our village. She went ahead to investigate the stranger's motives.”

Upon hearing the message, Chief Bran's eyebrows raised in shock. “I presume Belka has a good reason as to why she would meet with the stranger before they reached the village?”

Dalton nodded. “According to our scouts stationed in the Woods, the stranger looked highly suspicious and was driving a large horse-drawn wagon.”

Chief Bran didn't know how to feel about the current situation. Although he always welcomed anyone that traveled to their humble village and showed them hospitality, the village was not currently in the best shape to receive visitors. For one thing, they were currently under siege by the monsters of the Wild Woods.

For the past few months, monster presence in the Wild Woods had increased. At first, it had been a boon for the village since it meant more prey for the hunters and more materials for the craftsmen, but their numbers soon blew out of proportions.

The hunters used to treat a large portion of the Wild Woods as their hunting grounds, but nowadays, they were limited to within the vicinity of the village. After all, why would they need to go to the forest to hunt when the monsters themselves came to the village to attack? The ruins that Chief Bran passed by earlier was the result of one such attack a few weeks ago, when a family of stampede boars attacked and successfully got past the gates. Sadly, the attack resulted in one casualty, who was a child.

That was the reason why Chief Bran constantly checked on Master Bersk, the village's only blacksmith, on their weapons production. Chief Bran did not reach his ripe old age without being cautious and a bit paranoid, and if the situation continued to worsen, he feared that they might soon need the surplus weapons that he had Master Bersk produce in case of an emergency.

With the current situation such as it is, Chief Bran now had one more issue to worry about: the stranger. If Belka decided to meet the stranger away from the village, then that could only mean the stranger was no ordinary person, possibly even a dangerous one. If only Kath knew I agreed with everything she said earlier, the Chief thought with a grimace.

“Did Head Hunter Belka depart alone?” Chief Bran asked.

“She brought along five other hunters, Chief. She left me here to oversee the defenses of the village in case monsters attacked while she was away,” Dalton answered.

“Then I guess we can only wait for her to come back soon.”

The Chief stood by the village's open gate to wait for the return of the Head Hunter and, if she deemed it safe, the arrival of the stranger as well.

●●●

The dying cries of a large wolf resounded throughout the forest before finally receding. Mr. Marion withdrew the enchanted sword that he stabbed through the wolf's belly and wiped the blood off before sheathing it. Around him, three dead wolves lay on the ground, bleeding.

“Whew, those mutts are way harder to kill than the dire wolves,” I muttered from within the safety of the wagon.

Unlike the dire wolves I was used to, these wolves were different. They were larger, had larger fangs, and had a more rabid look on them, as well as higher speed and strength. If this type of wolf and a dire wolf fought, I was sure this kind of wolf would win.

But where they won in individual strength, dire wolves won in numbers. Dire wolf packs often numbered greater than ten, making them as threatening as these types of wolves that traveled in a pack of three.

As usual, I gathered the fur of the three large wolves, but this time, I no longer bothered burying their bodies. It would have taken too much time. After finishing all that, I signaled Clip and Clop to continue walking.

I've spent a total of three weeks in this forest now, and if I wasn't constantly being harassed by monsters left and right, I would have reached my destination two weeks ago. There was almost no monster presence when I initially entered the forest, but now that I was deeper in, I would have to fend off at least five monster attacks every day.

Supposedly, my destination, Wildpost village, was located at the base of the Sunrise Mountains deep in the Wild Woods. If they were that deep in the forest while monsters were this rampant, I could only hope that the village still exists.

But despite the constant monster attacks, my mood has been fairly good recently. In fact, my mood has been good because of the monster attacks. Thanks to all the monsters that attacked me constantly, I managed to gather so much fur to spin into thread that I was able to create another puppet!

The puppet in question was slumped on the floor of the wagon beside me. Unlike Mr. Marion, the new puppet had no face or clothing yet. It was simply a featureless humanoid doll, like a mannequin. The reason is that I haven't thought of an identity for this puppet yet. If Mr. Marion was a bubbly clothes merchant, then this new puppet should have its own special identity.

“Oh, how about an assistant to the great Mr. Marion? That could work. Or wait, if Mr. Marion is the merchant, then this new puppet should be the one who makes the clothes!”

Now that I thought about it, it would be pretty weird if Mr. Marion was the seller and maker of all the clothes he sold. The last thing I wanted was people getting suspicious of how Mr. Marion could make so many products while still having the time to sell them.

“Alright, with your identity decided, you shall be Taloress, the Dressmaker!”

Using my will, I gave Taloress her own physical appearance. Black shoulder-length hair, medium height, large round eyes, a pert nose, and small lips. Unlike Mr. Marion's face, which was pretty bland and unassuming, Taloress has a cute appearance.

As for her attire, I gave her clothes that fit the image of what I thought was the stereotypical appearance of a medieval seamstress: a long, billowy dress that reached the ankles and long sleeves that went up to the wrists. I placed a veil on top of her hair like the ones maids wore and a small ribbon on her collar to complete the look. Just like Mr. Marion's clothes, Taloress' attire was mainly black to keep up the theme I had going.

“You look wonderful, Taloress. If you were a real person, I'd be asking your hand for marriage already,” I said jokingly to my lifeless puppet.

It might seem weird to talk to my puppets, but hey, there's nobody else around to talk to. Since I gave Cuddles to Maly, I no longer had anyone to have a decent conversation with. I guess Tedd is still there, but I'd rather fight that panther monster again instead of willingly initiating a conversation with that jackass.

“I miss talking to real people again,” I muttered to myself quietly.

As if answering my prayers, I felt the familiar shape of human clothing in my fabric sense. It was pretty far away, at the edge of my fabric sense, but I was sure it belonged to a human. Am I finally here?!

I felt the person looking in my direction. I was almost tempted to make Mr. Marion wave his hand to the person in greeting, but it'd be pretty weird if they thought Mr. Marion could detect somebody a hundred meters away who was also hiding underneath the thick bushes while trying to stay undetected. What is that guy even doing skulking around the forest?

When I was halfway to the person's location, he/she stood up quietly and ran, moving outside my fabric sense. Hey, what gives?

Here I was, ready to greet the very first human I was about to encounter after weeks of social isolation, and the first thing the guy did was run away from me. I'm all right. Really. It doesn't hurt at all.

It's not like I've been craving social interaction, but talking to a fellow human after spending so long being alone would have been great. It's pretty ironic since I used to avoid social interactions, but only after experiencing weeks of isolation did I realize that being alone sucks. Oh, that reminds me, I need to go back inside Mr. Marion if I want to talk to people.

The most glaring imperfection of my puppets was their inability to talk, which meant I had to go back inside Mr. Marion to personally act as his voice. I did try to fix this over the past weeks with some ideas of mine, but they were currently ineffective so far.

My most plausible idea was to imitate how a human spoke. I placed a balloon-like cloth bag filled with air inside Mr. Marion which would serve as his lungs, then I shaped his throat to imitate a human's vocal cords. In my mind, I thought Mr. Marion would be able to speak if I squeezed his “lungs” and made the air pass through his vocal cords, but instead, the sound that came out was comparable to an air pump. It simply sounded like hissing air.

Turns out manually controlling the vocal cords to produce the sounds I wanted was impossibly hard. Just because I could speak didn't mean I knew how my vocal cords moved and operated. That was why I gave up on giving my puppets voices for the meanwhile.

After putting myself inside Mr. Marion, about fifteen minutes passed before a person entered my fabric sense again. Oh wait, I meant persons. There were six of them, and they moved through the forest quickly. And they were moving towards me.

When they were close, their approach slowed and they stealthily surrounded my location. Wait, don't tell me they're bandits?

Although I initially thought the person I detected earlier was a person from Wildpost village, maybe it was actually a bandit scout. The suspicious movements of the people surrounding me definitely looked like how a bandit would move. Well, at least I get to test out Taloress in live combat.

As I put Taloress in a ready position in the wagon, one of the bandits surrounding me broke off from the group and blocked the road more than ten meters ahead of me. Oh? Looks like this group of bandits is the bold type.

The bandit, probably the leader, was a hulk of a woman with a bow strapped on her back and a menacing look on her face. She wore complete leather armor that didn't hide her bulging muscles in the slightest and her shoulder-length black hair framed the scowl on her face. I'm gonna call her Muscle Girl from now on.

Before I could exclaim with my customary Mr. Marion greeting, Muscle Girl barked out an order.

“Halt!”

Following her command, I pulled on Clip and Clop's reins. Right as the wagon stopped, I made sure Taloress was battle-ready inside the wagon. I gave her the enchanted sword since I didn't intend to join the fight and I prepared some threadtacles in the wagon as well if some of the bandits try to escape.

“Greetings! May I inquire as to whom I am speaking to?” I asked cheerfully. Since we were far apart from each other, we had to shout at each other. Although I was acting, I can't help but feel genuine joy. Even if she was a bandit, I missed talking to real people.

Muscle Girl's scowl deepened further upon my question. “Not before you tell me who you are and what you are doing here.”

“If it pleases you, then I shall introduce myself first, then. I, am the great and magnificent Mr. Marion! Clothes Master and Aficionado! As to my purpose, I simply wish to grace your humble village with the finest clothes the kingdom has to offer!”

For a moment, the only audible noise was the swaying of the leaves. If this wasn't a bandit ambush, I would have thought this situation was cringy and embarrassing. What the hell are they waiting for?!

I was expecting the five other bandits hiding in the bushes to spring their trap while I was making my exclamations, but for some reason, they were simply watching.

“Are you saying that you are a clothes merchant?” Muscle Girl asked with a dubious expression.

“If my grand titles weren't clear enough for you, then yes, to put it simply, I am a clothes merchant,” I replied haughtily.

I swear I saw a vein pop on Muscle Girl's head as she answered back with what was practically a growl. “Prove it.”

What the hell? How long are these bandits going to keep up the charades?!

“If you cannot even see the perfection that is my apparel right now, then I could only lament your blindness,” I said dramatically. “Fine. Taloress! Bring me something that would cure our new friend here of her blindness!”

If looks could kill, Muscle Girl would have killed me several times over already. Her glare is so intense even I was starting to feel it behind my mask. I could even feel her anger radiating out from her. Damn, this woman is scary.

That was why I decided to bring out Taloress this early instead of making her wait inside the wagon. If Muscle Girl was strong, then it would be prudent if Taloress was close enough to act as soon as the bandits moved.

After a short wait, Taloress came out of the door beside me with a dress clutched in one hand. Like Mr. Marion, I also gave her a comedy mask earlier to conceal her face.

Like a matador waving her cape at the bull that was Muscle Girl, Taloress presented one of my exquisite dresses with a flourish. Made entirely of thread spun from a dire wolf's fur, the dress was of a simple dark blue color. It had a slit that ran up until the thigh, spaghetti straps to support it, and a décolletage that ran pretty low. Despite its simple look, it was one of my personal favorites. Some may find it too revealing, but I say if a woman wants to show off what she has, then let the world witness her beauty!

“So? It is perfect, is it not?” I asked Muscle Girl. Even if I was simply playing along with the bandits' charades, that doesn't mean I don't enjoy showing off my masterpieces.

But instead of an expression of awe, Muscle Girl's eyes widened in shock and incredulity. “You sell that? What are you, a clothes merchant for whores?”

I froze in place, my hands still gestured to my masterpiece. My masterpiece that was just recently called clothing fit for a prostitute. My masterpiece that I poured my soul into making, a masterpiece that only the fairest maiden deserves to wear.

“You must be the stupidest bitch to see my masterpiece as a whore's clothing,” I said with a cold voice.

Muscle Bitch looked shocked by my words. Even the other bandits hiding in the bushes flinched at my words.

“No, I didn't—”

“Silence, bandit. I've had enough of your charades. I've been waiting for you and your goons to spring your trap all this time, but if you're not moving, then I'll make the first move.”

With that declaration, Taloress handed me the dress in her hands and drew the sword hidden underneath her skirt.

Muscle Bitch looked alarmed when she saw Taloress draw the enchanted sword, but I didn't give her any more time to react and sent my puppet charging towards her.

●●●

“Wait, I'm not—”

Belka was about to say that she wasn't a bandit, but she was cut off as the companion of the masked man, the one called Taloress, charged towards her.

She's fast! Belka thought as she quickly drew the shortsword sheathed at her hip and brought it up to block Taloress' sword. Instead of the strong impact she expected, the blow was quite weak, and instead of parrying defensively as she initially planned, Belka pushed Taloress' sword aside with her strength and kicked her opponent in the stomach.

Belka tried to limit her strength to avoid seriously injuring the woman, but Taloress flew from the kick's impact. Shit, did I mess up? Belka thought grimly. She didn't expect the woman to be so light.

Her sole purpose in blocking the stranger's wagon was supposedly to ask about his identity and purpose. Bandits have tried approaching her village in the past by pretending to be merchants, so it was only prudent to investigate the stranger's identity. But the last thing she expected was to be the one being called a bandit instead. Not only that, he knows he's surrounded, Belka thought.

If the stranger knew that there were other people hiding in the bushes, then does that mean he detected them far earlier than that?

Taloress, who Belka thought was knocked out of the fight after her kick, stood up. But instead of using her arms to help prop her up, Taloress stood up only using her legs while her arms simply hung limp. The sight looked extremely unnatural. Although she was loathed to admit it, Belka was unnerved by the sight.

“Listen!” Belka began, but before she could continue, something flew out of the bushes that was headed towards Taloress.

“No!” Belka shouted, fear etched on her face. It was an arrow, headed straight for the woman's head. One of Belka's hunters probably fired it in panic after seeing the woman attack.

But instead of getting hit, the masked woman dodged the arrow by bending her body backward at an impossible angle before returning to an upright position and charging towards Belka again.

“So you bastards finally made your move, eh?” the masked man on the wagon said. He stretched his palm out to one side and a magic circle began to form.

Belka saw the magic circle and her blood ran cold. We're fighting a mage.

Belka knew if she didn't clarify things soon, the situation would get completely messy.

Taloress swung her sword towards Belka again, but instead of blocking it, the large woman caught the sword with her hand. Despite wearing thick leather gloves made from monster skin, Belka felt the blade slice through the thick material and slice her palm. An enchanted sword?!

Belka gritted her teeth through the pain and shouted at the mage. “We're not bandits, you idiot! We're hunters!”

The mage uttered a confused “Huh?” but it was already too late. By the time the mage understood her words, the spell activated. The air shimmered and Belka's eyes widened in horror as a wave of force crashed through the trees and made its way to her hunters. Somebody cried out in pain.

Belka batted the frozen Taloress aside, forgetting to limit her strength. The masked woman flew from the impact and hit a nearby tree, but Belka didn't realize what she did and rushed towards her hunters.

●●●

Dammit, I messed up, didn't I?

I stood frozen in place as Muscle Bitch rushed towards her companions hiding in the bushes. With my fabric sense, I could feel one of her companions lying on the ground, not moving.

Muscle Bitch said they weren't bandits. Then does that mean I just killed an innocent person?

I suddenly felt light-headed at the realization. Then I felt the person I hit with my spell move. Her chest was moving up and down slightly, which meant she was still breathing. Oh thank the Holy Mother.

All at once, I felt all the tension leave my body and I slumped to my seat. With an absent thought, I made Taloress get up from her position and walk back to the wagon. Muscle Bitch sent her flying with a simple swing of her arm earlier, which meant she was probably an augmenter. I didn't realize it earlier since she was out of range of my mana sense.

Muscle Bitch arrived by the side of her injured companion and checked on her. After a moment, she picked up her companion bridal-style and walked back to my location.

When she emerged from the bushes, I felt a jolt of fear after seeing the nasty glare she was sending my way.

“I-Is she alright?” I asked meekly.

“She will be,” Muscle Bitch replied harshly. “She's lucky the trees blocked most of your magic, or else she'd be worse off.”

For a moment, both of us were silent. Her other companions were still hiding in the forest, content with watching us from the shadows.

“Do you want me to heal her?” I offered at last.

“How much?” Muscle Bitch asked bluntly.

“What? For free, of course! I'm not so crass as to charge healing for someone I hurt myself!”

Muscle Bitch's glare lessened slightly. She gently placed her injured companion on the ground and I went down beside her.

“I'm not that good with Life magic yet, so I won't be able to heal her instantly,” I said as I cast a diagnostic spell on the patient.

“As long as she gets better,” Muscle Bitch replied.

The patient was a young girl, maybe in her teens, and had long brown hair. Her face would have been pretty if not for the nasty bruise on her forehead. I wonder who put that there…

The diagnostic spell revealed a minor brain contusion, which meant the patient is suffering from a concussion. She probably got her head knocked on a tree or something when my spell hit her. I'm glad the injury wasn't that bad.

I cast Mend on the girl's head to speed up her recovery and retrieved some fabric from my coat. I changed the color of the fabric to white to make it look like a piece of bandage and wrapped it around the girl's head.

“There, all done now. I suggest she avoid any strenuous activity for the time being and give her plenty of sleep. She should be fine after five days or so.”

Concussions normally take seven days up to a month of recovery, but with Mend, the recovery time is reduced drastically.

The concern on Muscle Bitch's face seemed to go away after my words, only to be replaced with her usual scowl as she asked me a question. “So, are you really who you say you are? A clothes merchant?”

“Yes, yes, I am just a clothes merchant,” I replied with exasperation. I no longer bothered acting like a haughty asshole since it would just prolong the conversation.

“This is the first time I've seen a mage working as a merchant,” Muscle Bitch said suspiciously.

“This is the first time I've seen an augmenter working as a humble hunter, too,” I quipped back. When Muscle Bitch returned earlier and entered my mana sense, I finally detected the high levels of mana spread throughout her body. She was a strong augmenter, maybe even as strong as Terric's father, Carson.

At my words, Muscle Bitch went silent.

“How about we keep quiet about each other's past, yes? I promise you, I did not come here to harm you or any of your companions. I just want to find a quiet place to bury my mother.”

At my words, Muscle Bitch's gaze softened slightly. I decided to share some of my true reasons for coming here to assuage her suspicions, and it looked like it worked.

“Fine. Now if you're done treating my student, open up your wagon and give us a free ride back to the village. You owe us that much.”

“I owe you?! But you were the one that ambushed me like a bandit in the first place!”

Muscle Bitch simply ignored me. She put two fingers in her mouth and whistled. Her other companions hiding in the forest seemed to take it as a signal and approached our location.

Muscle Bitch's companions emerged from the forest one by one and eyed me suspiciously.

“Is this fine, Head Hunter?” one of them asked. It was a handsome young man that seemed to be the same age as the girl I treated earlier and for some reason, looking at him annoyed me. He looks just like the classic bully I see in teen movies.

“Yes. Now go inside the wagon because Mr. Marion here will be giving us a free ride. Make sure Selise gets some proper space to rest.”

The young man gave me a smile that looked faker than my identity. “Then we'll be taking you on your generous offer, ‘Mr. Clothes Master and Aficionado.’”

You cheeky little bastard. He somehow turned the title I was proud to call myself with cringy and embarrassing! The nerve! You'll regret hurting my precious pride like this, brat.

I simply stayed silent at the young man's teasing, much to his annoyance.

Soon, everybody was inside the wagon except for Muscle Bitch. Instead of going inside, she simply sat beside me in the driver's seat.

“This wagon needs only one driver,” I said to her bluntly.

“I'm here to guide you to the village and to make sure you don't try anything funny,” Muscle Bitch replied without looking at me, her eyes focused on the trees around us.

“Fine, whatever you want. I hope your butt hurts from the hard seat,” I grumbled.

And so, I continued the last leg of my journey with an entire group of bandits-that-turned-out-to-be-hunters riding with me.