Chương 1: Chapter 1 Kenn Buell
Hiss, so cold.
The wanderer curled up tighter on the plush quilt.
His left arm was wrapped in a bandage, soaked in crimson.
The charcoal flames in the fireplace dimmed, illuminating his face like a knight from the southern capital.
Sharp edges, handsome and resolute.
But his face was covered with cold sweat, and he seemed to be experiencing great pain.
He had a dream.
In the dark forest, the bonfire framed the moonlight.
The red-eyed wolves rushed towards him with drooling mouths.
"Ah!"
The wanderer suddenly opened his eyes.
[You wake up in the northern wilderness, this is the sword and magic continent of Oshua. ]
The fire formed a halo in his sight.
The sound of the rain was blocked by the wooden house, and the strong wind wailed in the gaps. The night in the wilderness seemed never calm.
"Qiong, he's awake."
"Old God bless you, you're still alive."
The wanderer was slightly stunned. He heard a conversation. Someone walked quickly to the edge of the bed, crying with surprise, as if something good had finally happened in his bad life.
He turned his head blankly, but what caught his eye was the text annotation.
[Malnourished girl]
[Attitude: worried]
The awakened wanderer shook his head violently to confirm that the annotation was not an illusion.
He felt a cold and delicate palm on his forehead.
"Are you still there?"
The girl's voice was as thin as a mosquito's hum, revealing unconcealed anxiety.
She heard from the village priest that the soul would die before the body, and shamans and sorcerers liked to steal the souls of the seriously injured.
Those who wake up in the wilderness are not necessarily human.
"I'm fine."
Facing that face, he couldn't think of any other answer.
The girl named Joan collapsed and wiped away her tears with a smile. Her face was haggard and her old coat didn't fit her well.
The wanderer's head was swollen.
The freezing rain seeped between the walls, and a bone spear stabbed into the fireplace. The dim house suddenly sparkled and the warmth became even stronger.
He turned his head and looked over.
A wounded man was lying in the creaking wooden chair.
He was wearing heavy fabrics and tied his beard to his chin with a dark ring. He exuded a bloody smell of medicine, which could be smelled even in the bed.
[The seriously injured hunter]
[Attitude: uneasy]
"You're awake, great."
The hunter smiled weakly and his voice was weak.
"Ham Sim." He introduced himself, "I rescued you in the forest two days ago."
The wanderer was slightly stunned, and then nodded to express his gratitude.
The old hunter asked kindly with a smile: "Do you remember your name?"
"I..."
At this moment, a flash of surprise flashed outside the house.
The water curtain gathered and dripped on the iron fire cage, making a sizzling sound, and the broken pottery jar that collected rainwater suddenly clattered.
The wanderer's forehead was swollen and painful.
The thunder continued, making his scalp numb. The wooden bed was not cut finely enough, and his fingers kept exerting force and embedded in the cracks.
[You have forgotten the past, fate teases fools, praises the brave, and the strength deep in your heart is eternal. ]
The notes emerged, and the pain gradually subsided.
"Ken Bouvier."
He groaned the name repeatedly, like grasping the straw of reason, trying his best not to collapse.
Joan stepped forward to support him.
She felt a layer of cold sweat in Ken's muscular arms.
Maybe it was an illusion...
It seemed that the roaring wind outside the house gradually subsided.
"Okay, it's okay." Hamsin comforted. "It's normal to not remember after such an experience."
Because of his awakening, the original depression in the room was diluted.
The night was deep.
Several people gathered around the fireplace to keep warm and share fish porridge.
Joan curled up on the edge of the bed and gently closed her eyes.
You can work only if you get enough sleep, and you won't feel too hungry if the sun rises earlier.
Ken lowered his head.
There was a piece of grass under his feet, and the wet soil was mixed with gravel, with a clear granular feel.
He fell into deep thought.
Although he couldn't remember the experience, he vaguely remembered some common sense.
The continent of Oshua.
The old gods began to become active, and swords and magic have become the last resort.
Kingdoms fought for hegemony, and city-states stood side by side.
Black shadows disappeared in the waves, the proverbs on the ancient scrolls were covered with dust, the armored cavalry was stained with blood, and the monsters flapped their huge wings to break through the thick smoke.
In the most glorious era of the dwarves, seven furnaces were left behind, one of which was the Everfrost Wall.
The north of it, the vast frozen land under his feet, was called Palotusby.
Also known as the North.
The vast land was filled with legends of the old gods, and tribal wars were constant. The origins of war were nothing more than food and trade.
But even the drunkards in the mountain pass tavern dared not talk about unifying the North.
"Wasteland?"
Ken shivered when he thought of this, and the coolness in the air made the surrounding environment real.
Crackling!
The charcoal fire jumped, like a whisper in a dream.
Ken came back to his senses from his daze.
He returned the bed to Uncle Xin, and then gently carried June to the recliner. Just as he took a blanket, the girl curled up again with her arms around her shoulders.
"She's scared."
Ham Xin couldn't sleep because of the pain from his wound, and Ken accompanied him, talking a lot.
From picking up an abandoned baby in a cargo horse when he was young and naming him Joan, to how the village was restricted by wild beasts, monsters and undead.
Ham Sin is a native Santonkaya.
The ancestors of their tribe built this village, which is located in the middle of Palo Tusby, backed by the perennially frozen coastline.
The remote location makes it difficult to develop agriculture and animal husbandry, and the population is relatively stable.
Wars often pass by, but they are not affected too badly.
Without the brutality of the Red Maple Highlands, nor the tenderness of the Sharp Spirit Ice Bay, this tribe is praised for its simple and down-to-earth character.
"Winter is particularly difficult."
He sighed deeply.
The village was looted by bandits some time ago. The bandits came fiercely, and those who resisted and could not escape were killed to pieces.
The food was swept away, and the survivors were pale and thin.
The ice was too thick for the fishermen to set their nets, and the berry fields were destroyed beyond recognition.
"The village is starving now, and we can only go hunting in the snow."
Ham Sin closed his eyes, feeling the despair of saying goodbye to his family every day, not knowing whether he could come back alive from the forest.
Ken acquiesced without saying anything.
His mind flashed with the tall red-eyed wolves. These mutant wolves had experienced hunger in a long and severe winter. As spring approached, they were the most eager for flesh and blood.
[Morning light sprinkled on the scarred village, and rain froze into ice overnight. ]
Ken woke up by the fireplace, covered with a blanket.
The smoldering red charcoal was covered with ashes, and Joan disappeared. Ham Sin fell asleep with heavy breathing.
He staggered to his feet, looked at the thick totem on the door curtain, was silent for a moment, and slowly reached out to open it...
He was seeking some kind of verification in order to calm the uneasiness in his heart.
The world was shrouded in magnified white.
The light reflected from the snow was very dazzling. When the itching in his eyes subsided, there was only the strong wind scratching his clothes, and the smell of animal feces and human voices filled his senses.
He saw the rows of wooden houses, and the snow was full of dents.
Joan walked past him.
She rolled up her wide sleeves to her arms, holding a wooden bucket in both hands, cleaning the dried blood in the debris and ruins.
Listen carefully.
There was the sound of turning wood and the sound of sighs.
[You stand in the middle of the looted village, and the villagers look at you with lifeless eyes. ]
Ken was absent-minded for a moment.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of air, which was cold and pungent, with charcoal mixed with wood fragrance. When he opened his eyes again, the loss in his eyes was fleeting.
[This is the fact, you are not dead, welcome to Palotusby. ]
He covered his heart and felt the blood beating in his chest.
This strange yet familiar world in front of him seemed like a more real and huge dream.
"If your wound still hurts, take a rest first." Behind him, Joan exhaled a string of frost mist towards her frozen purple palms, and she asked in a low voice.
"Can you tell me your name again?"
The young man tilted his head, lowered his eyelids, and a flash of hesitation flashed in his amber pupils.
"Ken," he said, "My name is Ken Bouvier."
Tình trạng nguồn điện hàng tuần
-- Xếp hạng
Quyền lực 
-- Đá
Quyền lực