Chapter 53: Tim

Canfor.

A small town near Valley Town.

It was no different from the countless obscure, small human settlements within the borders of the Kingdom of Servia.

The river running through it was shallow, far from meeting the requirements for shipping; it was only sufficient for the townswomen to scrub laundry and pour out dirty water.

It produced no rare specialties, nor were there any large mineral veins discovered in the vicinity capable of sustaining the town's economy.

In fact, due to its proximity to the Misty Forest, the wilderness surrounding the town harbored a higher density of monsters than other regions, making the passage of merchant caravans exceptionally dangerous.

To some extent, if Valley Town did not possess that perfect terrain—surrounded by mountains on three sides and easy to defend but hard to attack—and if it were located further from the Misty Forest, Canfor would look exactly as it did now.

Fortunately, it was precisely because of "Valley Town"—an "adventurer stronghold" that hosted an Adventurers' Guild and provided massive tax revenue to the kingdom's provinces every year—that Canfor, a satellite town encircling it, could cling to it like a leech, sucking its lifeblood to maintain its suffix as a "town" rather than a "village."

It had not completely fallen into decay.

The mere four or five days' journey between it and Valley Town, combined with the relatively flat surrounding terrain, made it a temporary resting and recuperating spot for many adventurers and merchant caravans.

It could be said without reservation that seventy percent of Canfor's annual tax revenue came from the big-spending adventurers passing through the town.

But on the other hand, much like a delicious, sweet drink that invisibly harms one's health, those adventurers—who walked on the edge of a blade, earning substantial incomes accompanied by immense risks, and needing to vent their psychological pressure in various ways after every mission—while providing the town with a bright future, also bred countless filth in the shadows behind it.

On the western side of Canfor, at the end of a somewhat neglected street, sat a small tavern named "Full Bag of Gold."

The unpretentious name and the image of a money bag overflowing with gold coins on the sign expressed the tavern owner's good wishes, while also subtly revealing its dual function.

*Clatter, clatter...*

Amidst the air thick with alcohol and hormones was the crisp, bright sound of a dice cup being shaken.

The soft, slightly yellow light, accompanied by the warmth of the burning fireplace, felt like a winter morning's bedding, causing people to sink into it unconsciously.

The tavern hall, which should have been spacious and bright, had become narrow and cramped due to the dense crowd gathered around the gambling tables. Yet, because of this, it had become a place swirling with fervor and excitement.

Unlike a large city like Neum, filled with nobles and educated intellectuals, Canfor had no expensive, large-scale racetracks requiring massive funds to build and maintain; nor did many people have the patience to sit down for a game of Dragon Chess, which was interesting yet governed by complex rules.

These low-level adventurers simply used the simplest and most direct methods to vent their greed amidst endless stimulation and gambling.

"Four, five, two..."

Tim stared fixedly at the dice on the table before him. Upon his sweat-soaked face was a level of focus he had never even shown years ago when facing that Gnoll Hunter in the wilderness.

"Eleven, fuck!"

Without any intention of lowering his voice, his profanity, filled with dissatisfaction, dissolved like a drop of water into the sea of noise from the surrounding gamblers.

The coins that were originally his were ruthlessly swept away.

Tim felt his somewhat deflated wallet at his waist, his expression hesitant.

As a former adventurer, his high-risk, high-reward work had allowed him to amass a considerable amount of savings in just a dozen or so years. Even if he had no income now, he could live a decent life in Canfor with that money, perhaps even live out his old age in comfort.

However, the income from his adventurer days, which far exceeded that of ordinary civilians, combined with the bad habits formed in a high-pressure environment, had long since made him accustomed to those days of extravagant spending and drunken revelry in taverns.

In just a few years, the savings that were once enough to provide a beautiful life for a whole family had been squandered.

As he stood now, he was not much wealthier than an ordinary porter in the city.

"Hey, is it over? Is it my turn?"

Behind him, a crowd of gamblers waiting in line pressed forward, urging him impatiently.

Tim snapped his head around, his reddened eyes flashing with a ferocity that he used to show only when fighting monsters.

"What are you rushing for!? Get lost!"

The dissatisfied shouting vanished instantly, replaced by the sight of the other man shrinking his head and seeking another table, with faint grumbles still audible

"Just a pauper, acting all tough, even..."

Perhaps it was the man's words that stimulated Tim's heart, which had become increasingly sensitive due to his current predicament, or perhaps it was the glittering gold and silver of the pile of coins across the table that was particularly eye-catching.

He clenched his teeth, his flushed face wearing the madness unique to a gambler.

*Thud!*

His deflated wallet was slammed hard onto the table.

...

*Ptu!*

A spit, tinged with the scent of alcohol, was spat onto the stone floor.

The cold night wind made Tim subconsciously tighten his worn-out coat; the wallet at his waist was already empty.

"Fuck, if I had known I should have chased that hand, I would have definitely broken even by now!"

Filled with intense resentment, he replayed the scene at the gambling table in his mind, as if giving him one more chance would allow him to win back everything he had lost.

His legs moved mechanically along a path he knew all too well.

In a daze, he found himself back at his doorstep.

It was a two-story small building, even featuring a small garden in the back. The location was quite good, only a few dozen minutes away from the town center. It was only because of Tim's former work as an adventurer that he could afford such a house in his middle age.

Suddenly snapping back to reality, his lips twitched slightly, feeling a faint dryness in his mouth.

He pushed the door open and entered.

The first thing that met his eyes was a small, cute figure.

"Daddy, you're back!"

Accompanied by a bell-like, youthful female voice, Beth ran and threw herself into Tim's arms. Her small head rubbed against her father's collar, a sign of a child's deep attachment to her parents.

Tim gently stroked his daughter's smooth blonde hair and picked her up carefully. Suddenly, as if remembering something, his expression turned apologetic, and he said with regret

"I'm sorry, little Beth, Daddy forgot to buy your favorite pancakes."

"I'll buy them for you tomorrow, okay?"

"It's okay, Daddy!"

A flash of disappointment crossed the girl's face, but she immediately worried that her father would think she was angry, so she shook her small head with a smile, acting very maturely.

*Thump—*

"Beth, come eat."

A steaming plate was placed on the table with a cold sound. A fair-skinned woman with her hair in an updo called out to the girl while untying her apron. Her gaze did not even glance at Tim, who was holding their daughter, as if he did not exist.

The guilty man could only walk toward the dining table with a sheepish smile.

"Coming," he said.

...

At the dining table, a blonde girl was lively, telling her mother about which friends she had made today and what had happened. The woman with the updo listened patiently and seriously, occasionally asking a few follow-up questions.

Tim said nothing, merely keeping his head down in silence, sipping his soup spoonful by spoonful.

"Went again?"

Suddenly, the gentle tone the wife used while chatting with her daughter turned cold and curt.

He knew she was asking him.

The spoon in his hand paused; Tim lowered his head and gave a nearly imperceptible nod.

There was no scolding. Tim only heard a faint sigh coming from across the table.

"Mom and Dad miss little Beth. I plan to take her back to the countryside to stay for a while."

Tim snapped his head up, his expression stunned.

"No, don't! I'll make money! Just a little bit of capital, just a little! I can definitely win it back."

Faced with his promise, his wife only looked at him coldly. She didn't say a word.

Tim grew increasingly anxious.

"I... adventuring... Yes! I can still go out and take missions. It'll get better, it definitely will! I promise!"

The atmosphere at the table fell into silence.

After a long time, his wife sighed again and took a bulging money bag from the pocket of her somewhat worn clothes. She placed it gently on the table.

"This is the little bit of money I've saved up from working as a laundress lately."

"Whether it's for maintaining equipment, continuing your old trade, or using it to get your gear together to find a job..."

"Never mind, do as you please."

"I'm going to wash the dishes."

His wife rose slowly, cleared the plates from the table, and walked toward the kitchen.

Tim stared at the money bag before him, silent for a long time.

Suddenly, his sleeve was tugged gently.

He turned to look.

He saw little Beth, who had stopped speaking after sensing the cold atmosphere at the table. She was looking up with her small head, looking very mature, and said cautiously

"Daddy, you don't have to buy pancakes tomorrow."

"Beth doesn't like eating them."

...

The next day, just as dawn was breaking, Tim left home early, clutching the money bag his wife had left him.

As a former adventurer with experience fighting many types of monsters, even without stepping into the Misty Forest, there were many jobs available in this relatively safe town.

However, after so many years of decadence, the sharp edge he once possessed while fighting desperately amidst the blood of monsters had long since been worn away.

Even though he used the money his wife had saved to buy a decent set of clothes, the aura of decline surrounding him, combined with the reputation that had already spread through the relevant circles, led to Tim being repeatedly rejected.

By dusk, the sky was gradually darkening.

Tim walked alone on the road home, looking weary. He knew that with his current condition, finding a job with satisfactory pay would not be easy. It certainly wouldn't be something that could be achieved in a day or two.

But...

Recalling the cold faces of those people who had rejected him just now, Tim couldn't help but grit his teeth, cursing inwardly

"Acting so high and mighty in front of me... Ten years ago, I..."

"Money, it's just money, isn't it?"

"Back in the day, after a single mission, I'd walk away with more than 10 gold!"

He was immersed in his own fantasies, yet his legs seemed to move with a kind of muscle memory, following the deepest desires of his heart.

Step by step...

By the time Tim realized what he was doing, he was already standing before that familiar gate.

Warm, bright light, accompanied by the intoxicating scent of alcohol and the sound of clamor, flowed out from the cracks in the door.

His expression was dazed, and a certain indescribable emotion welled up deep in his eyes. Subconsciously, he raised his hands and slowly pushed the door open.

...

In the house, which was cleaned and tidy but appeared somewhat impoverished due to its sparse furnishings, his wife looked through the window at the sky that had already turned completely dark.

On the distant street, the figure that should have returned home long ago had not appeared, just as in the past.

She lowered her head and no longer sighed. She simply began to silently pack her luggage.

"Beth, is your clothing all packed?"

"It's all packed, Mommy! But Daddy..."

"Go to sleep. We leave at dawn tomorrow. Grandpa and the others miss you."

"Mm... okay."

...

*Bang!*

The door of the two-story building was thrown open.

Tim's face still bore the flush of a night of excitement. Stepping into the bright sunlight outside, he returned home excitedly. He was still carrying a bag of exquisitely packaged pancakes in his hand.

"Hahaha, little Beth, look what Daddy brought back for you!"

The small figure that would usually rush to greet him with a smile every night did not appear, nor was there the sound of kitchenware clattering in the kitchen. There was only his loud, excited voice echoing in the empty house.

Realizing something, the paper bag fell from his hand. He called out, pushing open every door in the house, even opening the wardrobe to check thoroughly.

His excited expression gradually froze.

It wasn't until the sun set again, sitting in the messy living room, that Tim finally began to recover from that unbearable, hollow emotion.

A look of determination, one he hadn't seen in many years, appeared on his face.

*Clatter!*

He hauled an old, dust-covered wooden chest from the basement to the living room. He struggled to find the keyhole amidst the dust, inserted the key, turned it, and opened it.

What appeared before him was a set of scale armor showing faint signs of rust, and two metal short blades that were no longer sharp.

He stroked them gently, feeling the familiar cool touch of their surfaces.

Tim then felt the bulging money bag in his bosom, which made him feel incredibly uneasy. He muttered to himself

"This money definitely won't be enough to buy a new set of gear, but it's more than enough to take these old companions of mine to the blacksmith for maintenance."

"I wonder how the Captain and the others..."

*Knock, knock, knock—*

A sudden knocking sound rang out.

An expression of disbelief appeared on Tim's face, and he hurriedly scrambled toward the door. Even though he accidentally bumped his foot, he scrambled up clumsily.

*Creak!*

The wooden door was flung open from the inside.

Tim's initially surprised face froze. Looking at the familiar figure outside the door, he spoke instinctively

"Captain?"

The person appearing before him was a middle-aged man who was also no longer young. But compared to the decadent and withered Tim, the other man was exceptionally spirited. He had a fierce temperament, a sturdy build, and was even wearing a well-maintained set of armor.

"Captain, what are you doing here?" Tim squeezed a smile onto his face and stepped aside to make room. "Please, come in!"

Unexpectedly, his former adventurer squad captain stood motionless. He merely glanced at him with a frown and said coldly

"A newcomer joined the squad recently, and there aren't enough spots. I went to Valley Town to help you deregister your name from the team."

"Since you aren't in the business anymore anyway, right?"

As he spoke, the man pulled a money bag from his backpack and tossed it to Tim.

"There are still missions to do, so I won't disturb you."

"Maybe we'll see each other again if there's a chance."

...

*Thud.*

The door was slowly closed.

Tim sat alone at the dining table. Dim, twilight light filtered through the window behind him, casting a soft glow upon him.

His face, devoid of any emotion—so calm it was almost terrifying—was shrouded in shadow, making his specific expression impossible to discern.

He simply stared quietly at the semi-old armor on the table before him, which hadn't even had time to be wiped clean of dust.

His fingertips twitched slightly.

...

At the pawnshop,

The scale armor and the two short blades were thrown mercilessly onto the counter. In exchange, he received a money bag that shimmered with gold light.

At the tavern,

Tim's face was flushed as he roared, his bloodshot eyes reflecting the shaking dice cup. It was as if his very soul had been pushed onto the gambling table along with them.

Late at night,

Tim, reeking of alcohol, walked unsteadily along the empty streets. He was muttering to himself, though it was unclear what he was saying.

*Thud!*

A powerful force struck him from the front, and Tim fell hard to the ground.

"%#￥% (Profanity)!"

Muttering a garbled curse, he turned his alcohol-numbed, dizzy head, only to see a burly figure walking away quickly.

Struggling to stand, he was just about to look for trouble with the person opposite him when his hand, pressing against the ground, suddenly felt a strange texture.

It was a thin book made of a bizarre kind of skin.

There were no words on the cover. There was only a white human skull printed in the corner.

(End of Chapter)