Not even 80 people called the village behind the forest their home. All of them - men, women, elderly and children - lived as farmers. No blacksmith, no baker, no doctor, no merchant. Everyone was either a farmer on the fields or a farmer who cut down trees.

I was the latter.

As were most of the able men right now.

They used the quiet period before the wheat's harvest to stock up on firewood or repair their homes, while the women wove clothing, picked fruits in the woods, or made preserves. One family used their hearth to bake rough pots and exchanged them for herbs or vegetables.

Yes, exchange.

The villagers didn't use money. In fact, most of them didn't even own money. They traded berries for baked bread, firewood for clothing, or some rare mushrooms for pots. And Taxes? Also solved with barter.

The only time they used money was in Gladford, where they would trade surplus grains for tools or livestock. Maybe once a year.

Hence I had no choice but to work for new clothing and my daily food. And I still needed to pay off the ax one family lent to me. I pay money so I’m able to work. Just like college.

My days began with some awful breakfast. Hard bread and the meager remains of yesterday's soup. Sometimes Thea would add a handful of berries or a small stripe of meat, but those days seldom arrived. Afterwards I would take my ax and spend hours on cutting, breaking and transporting of a single tree. A back-breaking trot and still barely able to support my spendings. No wonder the men used songs to croak the time away.

"Water is here!"

A small boy declared as he distributed small leather sleeves. His name was... Uno?

It's hard to remember 80 unfamiliar names, but I kept him in mind. He had caught my eye when he introduced himself. His age didn't even hit double digits, but he showed a surprising amount of hostility. Or maybe wariness would be a better description?

That shouldn't be too surprising. Parents would teach their children to never talk to strangers. And I was >the criminal who worked off his punishment<. So far, so good. But his reaction ran against the remaining village. Nobody else treated me like a criminal.

There was no wariness or hostility from the others, no contempt or surprise. Even their indifference disappeared. One family even brought up a marriage between me and their daughter. A 13-year-old girl I had never seen before. To them, I wasn't a criminal, but desperately needed fresh blood.

Even Thea didn’t show any surprise.

"That's normal. There are three big regrets for a mother. And the first one is being unable to find a husband or wife for your child. Normally, their daughter would have to leave the house and find a husband in another village. But if you settle down, mother and daughter would still see each other."

Less a criminal and more a potential husband.

But despite all that, Uno glared at me as he pushed a half-empty sleeve in my hand. Glaring, as if I had murdered his family.

"Thank you." I smiled at him.

Only for him to turn around with a harrumph and ignore me.

Laughter.

"You shouldn't take it to heart. He just has his circumstances," one of the other men told me.

"Yeah, yeah. Really serious circumstances. A duel at the harvest festival," another one chimed in, not even trying to hide his laughter.

I didn't understand. But Uno glared at us and ran back to the village. What's his problem?

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Anyway, It’s a good thing they had accepted me enough to joke around with me. Banter was better than indifference.

And so, joining their chorus, I swung my ax once more.

This daily routine had continued for a week and I had become accustomed to my work and their behavior.

In return, more and more doubt filled my mind.

Together with my time in the forest, this dream had continued for over two weeks. Food and exercise had returned my body to peak condition, and I didn't feel any discomfort living my life. But didn’t the previous pain come from my dying body? Then why would it vanish? And when would it end? Would it just disappear with no warnings or would my body break down once more? This time for real.

And was this dream copying the game world or just my character? Why was there a city I had never heard of before? All these unfamiliar surroundings. What would my eyes behold when I travel the world? Any characters from the game? Maybe… would she be here? And would I live long enough to see her?

And following all these thoughts my mood oscillated between satisfaction and horror minute-by-minute.

So I decided to at least answer the most obvious ones and stayed in the clearing when the others left.

My character's primary weapon had been an ax, so I tried some of my old attack skills. Whirlwind, war dance, sky splitter, I even tried to forcefully activate the passive fortress skill. None of them worked.

Glad nobody was here anymore or they would behold the most unsatisfying free dance ever.

Either way, the results disappointed. None of my beloved skills worked.

In my despair, I even tried the most useless one. Heavy Strike.

More damage in exchange for an endurance penalty. So basic, it came at no charge for every human player. Contender for the most useless skill in the game.

The ax cut through the air with an audible swoosh, buried itself deep into the tree, and sent horrible feedback back to my shoulder.

Eh?

What?

It activated?

I used a skill?

Again! A thud. Again! Another thud. Again! Again! Again!

My knees obeyed the dizziness in my head and gave in.

But I had done it.

Sitting with my back against the felt tree, I calmed my rough breathing and arranged my thoughts.

I used a skill. A low-level one, open to any human race, but a skill nonetheless. Which meant the other skills should also work. I just couldn’t activate those.

Given my younger appearance, this body might as well possess starting skills and stats. So no high-level skills, no passive abilities, no trump cards. Everything I used during the last weeks of my life was useless. But skills still existed in this dream. And I could learn them again.

Which left me with more questions. What should I do to become stronger? Where would I learn skills? And how would I raise my level?

Given my appearance and the skill's existence, this dream should adapt the game's general systems. And my experience should help me out.

Four factors determined a gamer’s strength. Their level, their equipment, their skills, and their capability.

A player raised his level through experience points which increased the body's strength and endurance. The only way to raise one’s level was to kill monsters or other enemies. No experience for player kills, no experience for quests. Just a simple exchange between strength and murder.

Equipment split into distinct groups, but it followed the generic formula. The stronger the equipment, the stronger the player. Some also offered additional perks, but with no money to my name, I would ignore those for now. Some rags and a worn ax won't give me an edge in battle.

Skills had the biggest impact on a player's strength. They ranged from low-level aptitudes like trading or sneaking to high-level attacks that wiped out small groups. New battle skills were out of the questions as they were learned through the help of teachers or one-time use items. Whirlwind, my favorite attack skill, was only taught in the white city, while a polished stone gem was the item needed for the passive skill fortress. Both unattainable out here.

But already learned skills were trained solely through repetition. Or rather grinding. No experience points investment, no short-cut through teachers, no skip through real money. Just hours after hours of skill usage. And this gruesome game design gifted me my biggest chance for survival.

No need for money, no need for enemies, no need for special NPCs. Instead swinging my ax was enough to get stronger, running around would make me faster, and sitting in the cold raised my resistances. Possible even in a tiny village in the middle of nowhere.

A player’s capability formed the last pillar. Comprehension of the enemy abilities, the right timing for skill usage, and one's reaction time would determine how much of the character's strength translated to the player’s might. This invisible constraint had chained my high-level character to the beginner's area. But this time was different. This dream allowed my body to keep up with my thoughts and ideas.

I didn't know when this dream would end. But one needed strength for everything in life. The strength to survive, the strength to take, or the strength to protect. My future paths didn’t matter. I had to become stronger for all of them. Even more so if I wanted to explore this world.

And my surroundings left me with two ways.

Either train my skills through mindless repetition. Or venture out into the woods and search for enemies.

And given my daily routine, I could only pick the first option.

I had to cut enough firewood to pay for extra clothes and the ax before I could tackle further tasks.

I sighed, stood up and turned myself towards the tree.

Time for some overtime. The more, the better.

Use skill - Heavy Strike.

Again. Again. Again!