Chapter 16: Another Chance
Tyler watched the warm smile appear on the woman's face as she spoke to James. *So that's his wife,* he thought. *She looks a little younger than him.*
He took a step closer. James turned to him. "Lisa, I'd like you to meet Tyler. Tyler, this is Lisa."
"It's nice to meet you," Tyler said, extending his hand.
Lisa paused for a moment, looking at his outstretched hand, before she reached out and shook it. "It's nice to meet you."
James narrowed his eyes, watching the exchange. *This kid's too formal.*
"I haven't seen you around here," Lisa said, looking Tyler over. "Are you new in town?"
Tyler nodded. "Yeah. This is my first time here."
"Really? Wow. This is a small town, but we make the most out of it."
"Where is Heather?" James asked.
Lisa turned back to James. "I left her with Grace. I was going back to the house to gather some more herbs from the garden. I got an order from a customer."
James smiled. "Oh, that's good to hear."
"What about you? How has your hunting been going lately?" Lisa asked as they continued their walk.
Tyler trailed a few paces behind them, listening to their conversation. Eventually, they turned toward a yard enclosed by a wooden fence. Lisa pushed open a small gate and stepped inside, with James following right behind her.
The yard had no grass, consisting entirely of packed dirt, but it looked incredibly neat. *Someone must have swept the whole yard this morning,* Tyler thought, noticing the faint grooves in the dirt. In front of him stood a moderately sized house, built from a sturdy combination of wood and brick. Lisa reached into her basket, pulled out a key, and unlocked the front door.
She stepped inside, with James following close behind. Tyler paused at the threshold, his hand gripping the doorframe for a moment before James spoke.
"Come in," James said.
Tyler walked into what appeared to be a living room. The space was simple but clean, anchored by a smooth wooden table and a set of matching chairs. The floor beneath his boots was polished to a dull shine. From where he stood, he could see an open doorway leading to a kitchen that had its own back door. To his right, another door remained closed.
James slung his bag onto a chair and let out a long, heavy sigh. He reached his arms toward the ceiling, stretching his back until a series of sharp pops echoed from his spine. "What a long day," he muttered.
Lisa set her basket on the table and disappeared into the kitchen. Tyler moved closer to James, watching as Lisa filled two steel cups from a wooden barrel. she returned and handed one to James and the other to Tyler.
"Here," she said. "You must be thirsty."
"Thank you," Tyler replied, taking the cup. The water was cool and hit the back of his parched throat with a refreshing chill.
James drained his cup in a few large gulps and set it on the table. He looked at Lisa, his expression turning serious. "Can I have a talk with you for a moment? There's something I want to tell you."
"Okay," Lisa replied.
She led him to the room on the right. James followed her inside and pulled the door shut. Tyler stood alone in the living room, the silence of the house making the muffled whispers from behind the door feel louder than they were.
*I wonder if they're talking about me,* he thought, setting his empty cup on the table.
"What? So suddenly?"
The exclamation from Lisa drifted through the wood of the door.
"I know," James responded, his voice a hushed, steady drone. "But we're leaving in a few days, and I just want to help the kid get up on his feet. That's all."
"Do you realize what you're doing?" Lisa’s voice rose slightly. "He's just another mouth to feed. We're already struggling as it is. I know my business has... been going well lately, but we need to save as much money as possible."
"I know," James said. "But I've already spoken to Hector. Trust me, he won't be much of a burden."
The word struck Tyler with the force of a physical blow.
*Burden.*
It was a word that had followed him his entire life. It was the label his family had used to define him back on Earth. He exhaled a shaky breath, his hands finding the back of a wooden chair. He leaned his weight into it, his fingers curling tight around the frame.
*I'm doing it again, aren't I?* he thought. *I'm troubling people who are already struggling.*
*Even in another world, I'm...*
The thought trailed off, only to be finished by a voice from his memory, sharp, cold, and sounding exactly like his aunt.
*Just a parasite.*
"Damn it..." he muttered under his breath. He squeezed the wooden back of the chair so hard the joints began to groan and creak under the pressure of his grip.
The door hinges groaned as James emerged from the room, now dressed in a simple white tunic having shed his leather armor. "Make yourself at home, take a seat," James said. Lisa followed behind him, her expression tight.
"Thank you," Tyler replied.
"Let me show you to your room," Lisa said. She offered a small smile, but the corners of her mouth remained stiff and didn't reach her eyes.
She walked past Tyler and pushed open the door on the left. Tyler followed her into a small space. A narrow bed sat against the wall next to a closed window, topped with a brown sheet, a folded blanket, and a brown pillow.
"Thank you," Tyler said to Lisa.
She didn't respond. Instead, she reached for her basket with quick, sharp movements. "I'm going to get the herbs. My customer is waiting." She crossed to the kitchen, opened the back door, and pulled it shut behind her.
Tyler looked at James. "Is everything alright? She looks kind of mad."
"It'll be fine. She's not mad," James said. He let out a short breath. "I'm going to get some rest. You should too. We're going to have a big day tomorrow."
"Where are we going?" Tyler asked.
"You'll find out," James replied. He stepped back into his room and the door clicked shut.
Tyler walked into his room and closed the door, sealing himself in the quiet. He sat slowly on the edge of the bed. The mattress was firmer than he had expected, the wooden frame beneath offering little give, but it wasn't uncomfortable. He leaned his head back, staring up at the wooden planks of the ceiling. In the far corner, a spider clung to a small web; its body vibrated with a frantic, trembling motion as if it were straining to hold its position against a draft.
He kicked off his shoes, the soles hitting the floor with a dull thud. The cool air of the room settled over his bare feet. *They are moving out in a few days and I'll be alone, but what the hell was I expecting? He obviously wasn't going to be around forever. I just met him today.*
He let his back fall against the bed, exhaling a long, heavy breath through his nose. As he lay there, a memory of the translucent text from earlier surfaced.
*The system... earlier it said I unlocked another achievement. It also said I unlocked some kind of function by doing my first quest.*
He sat up immediately, and the system panel shimmered into view in the dim light of the room.
TYLER EVANS:
SPECIES: Human
NAME: Tyler Evans
RANK: G
LVL: 6
CLASS: Craftsman
HP: 19/40 MP: 40/40
STR: 20 AGI: 24
DEF: 19 STM: 21
SKILLS: Weapon Craft-Lv1,
PASSIVE SKILLS: None
Extra Points: 1
*The lowest stats I have are in defense. Maybe I should invest this stat into it,* he thought, scanning the rows of data. *But I'm curious... since all of these things are written in numbers, they're all stat points, right? But what about my HP and MP? Do they function the same way?*
He rested his chin on his hand, mentally focusing on the HP value. He visualized moving one of his available stat points into the pool. The numbers flickered and recalculated.
HP:19/41
His eyes widened and his pulse quickened. *Wow. It worked.*
Tyler leaned back, pressing both hands into the firm surface of the mattress. *So this means that I can increase my HP and MP with the extra stat points I get from achievements.* He looked at the glowing numbers. *But my MP, though... I didn't even use this. I don't think crafting those spears reduced my MP. It hasn't moved at all.*
The sub-panel vanished and was replaced by the inventory panel. Tyler’s breath caught in his throat as his eyes landed on the list of extracted materials.
*8,000 feathers!?* he thought. *I know big birds have a lot of feathers, but 8,000 is insane. Is it because it was huge?* He leaned closer to the display. *What the hell am I going to do with 8,000 feathers? What do I use all this material for? Even the Hexhorn hide and the Crimson Wolf hide... I have them, but I have no idea what to do with them.*
He exhaled, trying to clear his head. *I'll think about it later. Right now, I have to see what that new function is about. The system said that I can inquire for a recipe for any weapon that I want. When it says "recipe," it's probably talking about the things that I need to make a weapon, just like I did with the spears. So it's saying that I can ask for any recipe, but can only do it once a day.*
He stared up at the wooden ceiling, his mind racing. *What kind of weapon should I ask for? It's obviously got to be something better than a wooden spear.* The image of the sword James carried flashed in his mind. *I should probably ask for something like that.*
He shook his head quickly. *What am I thinking? I come from another world. Why am I thinking this way?* He looked at the system panel still hovering before him. "System," he said. The inventory list vanished, replaced by a new, empty panel. Tyler’s chest tightened with a sudden burst of nerves. He let out a long, shaky sigh.
"I need a gun."
...
Silence stretched between him and the system, the pale light of the panel reflecting in his eyes. Tyler felt a slight vibration in his throat as he cleared it.
"I need a recipe for a gun."
The system panel vanished instantly. In its place, a small rotating bar flickered, Below it, text began to scroll: *Processing user's request.*
The bar stopped. The screen blinked once and then turned a dull, warning shade:
*The request is denied. The user's skill is too low to handle this type of request. Only basic weapons can be created. Would the user like to replace their item with another weapon fitting the skill level?*
Tyler let out a sharp exhale, his shoulders slumping. *Damn, I knew it. Something was telling me that it might not work. This thing just wants me to ask for swords, doesn't it?*
"Yes," he said.
The panel shifted again, the circular loading bar returning. *Replacing the user's requested item recipe.*
Tyler’s brow furrowed. *Wait... What is it doing? I thought I was going to ask for something else. Is it replacing it for me?*
The loading bar vanished, replaced by a final, steady screen.
WEAPON RECIPE:
HAND CANON: Wood, 1 medium Bronze ore, dead berry powder.
*A hand cannon?* Tyler thought as he read the recipe. He pinched his chin, feeling the slight stubble there. *What is dead berry powder?* "I don't know about it. I'll have to ask James, he knows more about this world," he muttered to himself. *And since it needs bronze to be crafted, maybe I can ask Hector about it. I assume he's a blacksmith since he was selling all those weapons. Maybe I can get it from him.*
He looked up, refocusing on the system panel. "System," he muttered. "How do I raise the level of my skill?"
The system panel disappeared, and another replaced it, displaying the text: The user can level up the crafting skill by using it regularly.
*Oh, so it's just telling me to craft a lot more items for me to raise its level,* he thought. He sighed, letting his back sink into the firm mattress. *I've got to get some rest. I didn't even get proper sleep in the forest yesterday. I'll deal with all of this tomorrow.*
He closed his eyes, and exhaustion pulled him under. Hours passed.
A high, bright voice piercing through the quiet of the house pulled him from his sleep.
*What's going on?* he thought, rubbing the gritty sleep from his eyes. He stood up, blinking against the harsh light. Golden rays poured through the small window, warming his face. *I thought it would be sunset by now. I feel like I've slept for hours,* he thought, stretching his arms upward and stifling a yawn.
He opened the door and saw a small child wearing a brown dress. James lifted her into the air, and she let out a bright laugh. The child had short black hair and brown eyes that matched James's perfectly.
"Papa, what did you bring me?" she asked, looking at James with wide, expectant eyes.
"Here," James said, pulling his hand from his pocket. He held three golden, rectangular crystals.
The child reached out, trying to snatch them from his palm. James closed his fingers over them. "Uh-uh. Now what do we say?"
"Thank you," she said.
James opened his hand, letting Heather take the crystals. "That's my girl," he said, tossing her up. She laughed again as he caught her securely.
James looked over and noticed Tyler in the doorway. "Oh, you're awake."
"Yeah," Tyler said.
"This is my daughter, Heather."
Heather stared at Tyler, stuffing one of the golden crystals into her mouth. A thin line of drool escaped the corner of her lips as she chewed.
"Hi," Tyler said, waving his hand playfully.
Heather just continued to watch him, her brown eyes tracking his movements.
"Now Heather, what do we say when someone greets us?" James prompted.
"Hello," Heather mumbled, her mouth full, waving a small, sticky hand.
"Wow, she kind of looks like you," Tyler said.
James let out a short chuckle. "Nah, she gets her looks from her mother. Which is why she's so beautiful."
"How old is she?" Tyler asked.
James looked down at his daughter, who was still secure in his arms, chewing steadily on the crystal. "Heather, how old are you?"
"Five," she said, holding up four wet fingers covered in saliva.
James reached over and gently lifted her folded thumb. "This is five."
Heather's eyes widened. Her cheeks flushed red as she quickly pushed her fully extended hand toward Tyler. "Five!" she said, letting out a nervous laugh before James set her down on the wooden floor.
"Five, huh? She looks a little younger," Tyler said, watching the girl.
James nodded. "Yeah."
Tyler pointed at the pieces the child was gnawing on. "What are those?"
"Oh, these are sugar crystals," James said.
"Sugar?"
"Yeah. They’re quite easy to make," James explained. "You just heat some sugar up until it melts and then let it turn cold. You can mold it with a spoon into whatever shape you want. When it cools, it gets hard and tastes sweet."
"It does sound easy," Tyler remarked.
James turned his head, his gaze following Heather as she wandered toward the bedroom. "Don't climb the bed, okay?" he called out.
"Okay!" Heather’s voice drifted back from the other room.
James shook his head, the corners of his mouth lifting. "When she climbs that thing, she starts crying because she’s afraid of heights."
Tyler chuckled. "Really?"
James paused then said, "If you don't mind, I’d like to send you on an errand. Is that fine?" James asked.
"An errand?" Tyler replied.
James shook his head. "Actually, forget it. You aren't used to the layout here yet."
"Tell me where," Tyler said.
"The marketplace. There’s a bakery directly across from Hector’s shop. The butcher is right next to it. They sell everything there, but I need beef. One silver's worth."
"I can do it." Tyler’s voice was flat and certain.
"Alright." James pulled a silver coin from his pocket and pressed it into Tyler’s hand. The metal was cold. "Try not to get turned around."
"It's a straight shot. I'll be fine." Tyler slid the silver into his pocket. It hit his thigh with a dull thud.
He went back to the room, shoved his feet into his shoes, and pulled the laces tight. He left the yard and hit the cobblestone road.
As he walked, Tyler flexed his hand, watching the way his knuckles moved sharply under his skin. *Everyone here has a level, and they’re all higher than mine. But the math doesn't add up. James says I have the strength of an E or F-rank, but the system still tags me as a G.* He balled his hand into a fist, feeling the solid tension in his forearm. *The extra stat points are doing the work. I’m definitely stronger than the rank says.*
The side street eventually spilled into the main road.
*If I want to return home, I have to get stronger.* He paused, the thought rooting him to the spot. *Return home.* Memories of his past world flashed behind his eyes. He saw the moments where he had achieved nothing and the weight of being a burden to those around him. He felt the old isolation, watching Mike climb upward while he remained stationary. A familiar, spiraling pressure tightened in his chest, a sensation that offered no explanation but brought a sharp, fresh ache to his lungs with every breath. It was Despair.
Suddenly, Tyler’s throat tightened as his breath hitched. He felt a cold, sharp point bite into the skin of his back. As he flinched to move away, an arm thick with muscle coiled around his neck, cutting into his windpipe.
"Don't move," a voice rasped near his ear as the blade dug deeper.
The metal tip sank through the surface of his skin. A single, warm drop of blood escaped the wound, tracing a slow path down the length of the knife until it reached the hilt. Tyler’s breath escaped in a sharp hiss as the sting flared against his nerves.
"If you move or if you scream, I'll kill you right here and now. ," the man said.
The man’s weight shifted as he hauled Tyler backward.
"Let go of me," Tyler grunted, the words straining against the pressure on his throat.
The attacker yanked him hard to the side, dragging him off the street and into the shadows of a narrow alley. Tyler scrambled for footing. He glanced toward the street, but the cobblestones were empty.
"Give me the money, right now," the man said, his voice low as he pulled Tyler further into the dark. Tyler couldn't see the man's face, but the hand locked around him was unyielding, the fingers digging into his flesh with a firm, steady pressure.
"Please just let me go," Tyler said, his voice straining.
The man’s forearm tightened against Tyler’s windpipe. The pressure increased until the vertebrae in Tyler's neck felt as though they were about to splinter under the weight.
"Do you think I'm playing around? Empty those pockets," the man said.
Tyler slid both hands into his pockets. His fingers brushed against the cold metal of the coins. "Here," he said. He pulled his hands out, revealing three silver coins and the copper ones.
"Are you joking with me right now?" the man asked.
"No, please, this is all I have," Tyler said, his chest heaving.
"Cheap bastard. Drop them on the ground, slowly."
Tyler lowered his hands. He let the coins fall one by one. They hit the stone with a sharp, ringing vibration that echoed off the narrow alley walls.
The man’s grip loosened slightly. *Now's my chance,* Tyler thought. He channeled every bit of his strength, twisting his body to slip through the gap in the man’s hold. He lunged forward, his feet scrambling for purchase on the dirt. He stole a glance over his shoulder. The man had messy, dark hair and blue eyes that stood out against his dark, tanned skin.
A translucent panel flickered into view: Level 29 Human has activated skill: Throw.
The man's arm blurred. A moment later, a sharp, cold weight slammed into Tyler's backside, piercing through the skin and deep into the muscle. The force of the impact sent a jolt through his spine. He gasped for air as his legs gave out, hitting the ground hard as the wind was driven from his lungs.
Warm, thick liquid dripped from the wound, staining the floor a dark red. The man snatched the coins from the ground and sprinted deeper into the alley, his footsteps fading as he rounded a corner.
Tyler gritted his teeth. A searing, white-hot heat radiated from the point of impact, pulsing with every heartbeat. *The pain... it hurts so much.*
He reached out, his fingernails digging into the grit as he dragged himself forward. *I don't want to die. Please, someone help. I don't want to die in a place like this.* He forced his jaw open to cry out, but instead of words, a hot, metallic-tasting surge of blood flooded his mouth, spilling over his chin and choking the sound into a wet, bubbling rasp.
The system panel flickered into view against the darkness of the alley. HP: 10/41. The digits didn't stay still. Tyler watched as they ticked downward, falling steadily until the number rested at 7.
*No, I'm dying. If I don't find help, I'm going to die. Someone...*
He reached forward, his fingernails catching in the grit of the alley floor. He dragged his heavy torso toward the light of the cobblestone road just meters away. Every inch he gained felt like it was draining the last of his energy. Behind him, a thick, dark smear of blood marked the path he had traveled.
The panel flashed once more. HP: 4/41. Tyler’s eyes widened, the pupils dilating. A wave of cold numbness washed over his limbs, and the strength left his arms. *I'm not going to make it. I'm going to die right here...* Hot tears spilled from his eyes, tracing lines through the dirt on his face. *If only there was someone who could help, someone who could save me.* The strange, familiar feeling returned, swirling together with the sharp, pulsing pain in his back. Despair settled heavily in his chest. As the edges of his vision began to fray, he felt himself fading. He had accomplished nothing.
*I want to live. But what if I do? I'll just be... I want to return to my world, but there's nothing there for me. If only I wasn't who I am.* His jaw tightened. *No, if only I was stronger.* He remembered. A familiar voice echoed in his mind, the words she spoke before he had moved to the city. He didn't want to picture her face; the thought of her caused a knot of disgust to tighten in his stomach.
*"Were you even worth saving?"*
Tyler gritted his teeth so hard his bones ached. *No, I'm worth saving. I promise. I won't be the same anymore. I'll change.*
He tried to lift his head, but it was too heavy. His consciousness began to slide away.
*Please... someone.*
*Just give me, another chance....*