Nemesis. Start on the End.

Revsha sat near the edge of the crypt, his body aching and his mind swirling with exhaustion. The morning sun warmed the back of his neck, but the cold chill of the night still clung to his bones. He inspected his belongings: a crude bow with a frayed string, 22 arrows of varying condition, and a small pouch jingling with 20 copper coins.

His fingers brushed over the old map he'd taken from the goblin boss's remains. The parchment was brittle, the ink faded, but there was no mistaking the crypt's location drawn in its center. It seemed to point somewhere deeper beneath the village—a thought that sent a shiver down his spine.

He looked around, realizing where he was: the graveyard of Kang Village, the game's first starting point for new players. Normally, this area would be bustling with players arriving, laughing, and chatting, aided by helpful NPCs offering basic quests. But here, in this raw, unpolished version of the world, he stood alone.

Revsha sighed, his hand instinctively reaching for the shield that wasn't there. He winced as the memory of its loss resurfaced—torn from his grip during the chaos in the goblin caves. For a moment, he thought he still had it, a phantom weight lingering on his arm.

"Depression? Fatigue? Or just plain stupidity," he muttered, shaking his head. "Probably all of them."

But even in his depleted state, he couldn't deny a small spark of hope flickering inside him. Something had changed.

Level Up!

When he'd reached the village graveyard, the system had granted him experience points for discovering Kang Village, enough to push him to Level 1. The notification had flashed briefly in his vision, and then a strange sensation overtook him.

It was subtle at first—a faint pulse, like the beat of a second heart. Then it grew stronger, accompanied by a sharp pain in his chest. For a terrifying moment, he thought he was dying, but the system soon provided clarity:

Class Skill Unlocked: Thorn Heart

(Thanks to your courage, knight oath, and merits… You g... Some… the… Use… Cautious...)

The message was fragmented, the details incomplete, leaving him frustrated and intrigued. Thorn Heart wasn't like the skills he'd seen before—it had no clear description, no immediate benefits.

Opening his class menu, he found two new entries under his active skills:

Thorn Heart (Passive)

A gift rooted in courage and pain. Its thorns protect and grow, but beware: the bloom comes at a cost.

Dark Mode (Active)

(No description available.)

Revsha frowned. Thorn Heart didn't make much sense, and Dark Mode was equally cryptic. When he tried to activate it, nothing happened, though he felt an unsettling prickle at the edge of his consciousness.

"Great," he muttered, closing the menu. "I've got skills, but no clue what they do. Perfect start to a legendary class."

The villagers seemed to notice him only faintly, if at all. As he stood near the crypt's entrance, his tattered pelt armor and unkempt appearance made him look more like a grave robber than a hero. People passed by, muttering to themselves, their gazes skimming over him as though he were part of the scenery.

It wasn't until he caught his reflection in a puddle that he understood why. His face was pale, his eyes sunken, and his clothes, damp and bloodstained, gave him the appearance of a reanimated corpse.

"I look like a hunter who just crawled out of his own grave," he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair.

The thought made him chuckle, though it wasn't exactly funny.

Revsha turned his attention back to the map. The crypt where he'd fought the goblin boss was marked clearly, but it wasn't the only point of interest. Beneath the village, the map hinted at a labyrinthine network of tunnels and chambers.

"This is why the boss was there," he said, piecing it together. "The goblins must've been scavenging from the crypt… but what were they after?"

His finger traced the faded lines leading deeper into the crypt. It was a tempting prospect, but he wasn't eager to dive back into danger just yet. His body was still weak, his mental reserves drained.

"First things first," he said aloud. "Gear up, level up, and figure out these weird skills."

The crypt could wait.

Revsha stood, brushing the dust off his clothes. The village spread out before him, modest but full of potential. Kang Village was a place of beginnings—quests to run, gear to buy, and knowledge to gather.

But as he took a step toward the bustling streets, a sharp ache in his chest stopped him. It wasn't the pain of his wounds—it was something deeper, a lingering effect of Thorn Heart.

For a moment, he hesitated, the weight of his class bearing down on him. The fragmented description replayed in his mind: Courage, knight oath, merits… cautious…

He shook his head, pushing the thought aside. Whatever Thorn Heart was, he would figure it out in time. For now, survival came first.

As the villagers continued to ignore him, Revsha smirked. "Fine by me," he muttered, clutching the map. "Let them ignore the dead man walking. I've got a lot to do."

With that, he stepped away from the graveyard, ready to take his first true steps into the world of Kang Village.

Revsha stepped into the village of Kang, his body bruised, exhausted, and still aching from his recent battles. The world around him felt foreign, yet familiar. He had been through this before in the game, but the raw, unfiltered reality of it all made him feel more like an outsider than ever. The sight of the modest homes and humble people made him feel small, despite the knowledge he carried with him.

He moved toward the largest building in the village—what appeared to be the village chief's hall. Inside, the chief sat at a wooden table, cluttered with papers. His eyes were hard as he looked up at Revsha, his gaze scanning the battered armor and unkempt appearance.

"I'm Revsha," he began, his voice steady. "A hero sent by Aurora. I've come to help your village."

The chief's expression was unamused. "A hero?" he muttered, taking in the sight of Revsha, who looked far more like someone who had wandered out of the wilderness than a skilled adventurer. "You certainly don't look the part. If Aurora sent you, prove it. But don't waste my time with more of your stories."

Revsha clenched his fists, frustration rising in his chest. He had expected this rejection, but it didn't make it any easier to bear. He knew he didn't look like much. He wasn't dressed in shiny armor or carrying impressive weapons—just a hunter in ragged clothes, a wolf's pelt draped over him.

There was nothing more to be said. The chief wasn't going to listen to him, not with the way he looked. Revsha gave a curt nod and turned away, leaving the hall. His options were limited for now, but he knew how to survive.

The village wasn't large, but it was bustling. He passed villagers going about their business—farmers, traders, and travelers. There were no other adventurers in sight, but he knew they'd be coming. The game was just starting for many of them. He needed to figure out his next move, so he headed for the tavern, hoping to rest, maybe catch a break.

The tavern was a cozy establishment, a simple place called *The Resting Boar.* Revsha pushed open the door and was greeted by the warm glow of the hearth. The barkeep, a burly man, didn't seem to mind his appearance, though he eyed him suspiciously. Revsha approached the counter, his stomach growling. He needed food, and a place to think.

"I need a room for the night," Revsha said, pulling out his meager pouch of coppers. He knew he didn't have much, but he needed to rest, clean himself up, and come up with a plan.

The barkeep nodded, counting the coppers. "Twenty coppers for a room. That includes a meal and the bathhouse."

Revsha didn't hesitate. He handed over the coins, too tired to argue. The meal was simple—a hearty stew with a thick chunk of bread. It wasn't much, but it was enough to restore him. As he ate, he listened to the murmur of other villagers and travelers. Most of them seemed to be discussing the game, the challenges ahead, and the strange occurrences in the village.

Revsha felt a pang of guilt as he realized how disconnected he was. He had once been just like these players, excited to start their journey. But now, it was different. He wasn't a player anymore. Not really. The world had changed, and with it, the stakes. He had to play smart, not just survive—but thrive.

After his meal, he paid for a bath and headed to the back of the tavern, where a simple wooden tub awaited him. The hot water helped soothe his aching muscles. He scrubbed himself clean, watching the grime and dirt wash away. He didn't feel like a hero. He felt like someone who had been caught in a storm and was simply trying to make it through.

When he returned to the tavern, the room was quieter, the other patrons gone to their business. But as he looked around, he noticed something odd—players. There were players here now, milling around in the village. They looked like him—new, untrained, and full of excitement. They were still adjusting to the world, but Revsha knew that wouldn't last. Soon, they'd figure out how things worked, and they'd start hunting the goblins, killing the wolves, and claiming their rewards. It was a race to be the strongest, the fastest.

He wasn't like them anymore. He had knowledge, but that wasn't enough. He needed to make them trust him, and that meant playing the game.

He stepped out into the village again. He didn't engage the players directly—he wasn't sure how they'd respond, and he didn't want to draw attention just yet. Instead, he set up a small stall near the village square, where he had gathered the pelts and meat from his hunts.

As the players approached, most of them didn't look twice at him. They saw him for what he looked like—an NPC merchant, just another figure in the background. They didn't realize he was a player, someone who could help them.

One by one, they came to buy. The pelts went for two coppers each, and the meat for one copper per stack. Revsha made his sales quickly, taking what little copper he had earned, while quietly stacking up his supplies for himself. He managed to keep five stacks of meat for his own use, but the rest was sold off. He had what he needed to survive for now—money, food, and the promise of more.

He wasn't doing this for charity, though. He had a plan. He knew he needed to earn the trust of the village, to show them that he was more than just the NPC they saw in front of them. The crypt, the goblins, and the villagers—they were all part of the puzzle. But for now, he'd bide his time. He'd help them, but he would play his role carefully, like an NPC in the background, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Revsha had learned long ago that survival was a game of patience. He would prove himself, but it would take time. He had no choice but to wait and watch, to see how things would unfold. After all, he had one goal in mind—to break free from the cycle, to make his own path in this world.