Old Man

That whole event happened within a matter of 30 minutes. 

Walking back defeated, Soren contemplated the situation.

'I was defeated miserably. My hand feels like it was broken. Did I even gain anything?'

'Probably not, except for the fact I need a weapon. My fist can't do anything to anyone and it just hurts me more. Cursed strength stat of 4. Or is it vitality?'

He was irritated. Never had he imagined that being lazy in his first life would bring him such annoying side effects later on.

'Okay. I need higher stats, a weapon, and another arm would be nice too. To do the first I need the second. How do I get a weapon?' 

Arriving at his hut, Soren went inside with the final decision to figure it out later.

The bed was looking very appealing right now. It had just the right amount of fluff not to be uncomfortable, but it also wasn't comfortable enough that one would get carried away.

The beauty of beds.

He decided that using such a luxury would be the most sensible course of action. It may not have been dark outside yet, but it would have been soon anyway.

He climbed into bed, flicking his sandals off, and very quickly fell asleep.

When you sleep, you are being robbed of time. You spend many years of your life sleeping away, but you are also being healed by time. Your mind is reset, and your body relaxes more than it could when dealing with daily stress. 

Soren's body became still and relaxed. His heartbeat slowed and breathing became rhythmic. His worries from the day before melted away, leaving him with a calm mind.

---------------------------------------

The morning sun shined through the crevices of the wooden door. Heat took its place in the world it had left hours prior. 

Soren woke up relaxed. His body refreshed but still harbored the massive bruise left by the aggressive lady. 

His vitality at 8 was a big help to him whether noticed or not.

Sighing, he thought, 'She has to be a devil in disguise. It's the most reasonable explanation.'

Even after an amazing night's rest, he still woke up and thought of yesterday's hardships, complaining as that was all he could do.

The one-armed man once again climbed out of bed, not knowing when he would have another of such to enjoy. 

'Weapon. Weapon. Maybe there is a blacksmith here too?'

He walked out and headed toward where most people were concentrated during the day. Each person was always walking with a purpose, either carrying something or having messages to relay.

Looking around, the buildings here were more refined than World 1. 

They were the sizes of small stores instead of compact buildings he'd seen briefly. 

He looked around at each one, but none resembling what he needed. By this time the sun was starting further up into the sky. 

Across the road he saw an older man, not usually seen in these worlds, sitting down in a rocking chair. He held a cloth of sorts that appeared to have been filled with sticks.

There weren't any buildings next to him, but he stuck a sign into the ground that had a few words on it. 

"Selling swords"

'Perfect, I wonder if I can trade him for one.'

With that, Soren started walking over to the man.

On his way, Soren was surprised by how he was feeling. If he could wield a sword he could be cool and lavish. That certainly wasn't something he usually wants. 

No, all it has been is envy, longing, and a will to be stronger.

It was his childhood dream that was long forgotten. The sword, swinging in his hands with cherry blossom petals coating the scenery behind while the moonlight shows the world beneath a majestic, but breathtaking beauty. 

All just a dream though, nothing more. 

Reaching the old man he said resolutely, "What swords do you have?"

Seeing Soren speak about business, the old man took note of him and nodded as if satisfied by this potential buyer. 

He leaned in his rocking chair unfolding the wrapped cloth, revealing nine swords. 

The swords were similar in that they were double-edged, being just a little longer than two feet. All of them were white metal with a golden guard and pommel. The grip was a dark brown leather that was much more durable than what he'd known on Earth. 

From what he could tell, the same weapon was replicated nine times. 

'Impressive, but strange. Why is it all just this color? I want a black one or something. I suppose it'll work.'

Seeing Sorens interest he spoke, "Three small Stats, or 1 medium Stat."

Soren faced a dilemma, he needed a sword. Half of his Shocking Speed relied on it and paralysis was very strong when used correctly. 

"What if I don't have those?"

The old man's eyes held a hidden joy. "Then we do a loan. I give you the sword, you pay me back in six months. If you don't then I get 10% of all your stats."

"And if I die?"

"Then I still get 10%. Either way, it's good for me. Will you do it?"

Soren wasn't sure. He wanted to do it and needed to for the sword, but if he didn't pay the man back then a portion of his stats would be lost. 

'Am I confident in paying him back? We should just be doing a basic hunt the next few days, so I shouldn't die, but still. It's debt.' 

"How about two small Stats?"

The old man was still in a good attitude.

"Fine, but you have three months to pay me back."

He picked up one of the swords and handed it to Soren. 

An invisible line began matieralizing between the two, connecting their hearts together. A string forcing their trade to be upheld.

Soren could feel it too, he couldn't ignore what was to be given to the old man.

"Don't worry about maintaining them, they won't deteriorate unless you are using it past their limit."

Walking away, Soren thanked him and left, wanting no further communication between them.

'At least I have a sword now. I would try to train, but that mysteriously aggressive lady might be there.'

Not knowing what to do with himself, he went to go eat while waiting for the designated time for them to meet up. 

Once again, eating was awkward because there were no tables and only stools. 

"So unaccommodating," grumbled Soren. 

An hour passed with him just sipping on the same soup as yesterday, watching people come and go. 

Looking towards the sun, it was fully above him. 

'Time to move I guess.'

He walked to the Sunburned Mosquitos hideaway, the tavern. It became something of a base for their operations. 

Walking to the door, Soren saw the tall guy walking as well. 

He liked the group that they were in, even if it was almost not a functioning fighting team.

They didn't shame him for missing an arm or not talking as much as them. 

"Hey," Soren said. 

The tall guy looked at Soren's missing armhole in the tunic. A pang of guilt bit inside him. 

Trying to seem normal, he said awkwardly, "Hey."

Noticing the internal conflict in the man, Soren decided to leave him alone and continued walking. Talking still wasn't his strong suit. 

Walking in, Roz and the others were already there, waiting. 

"Heyyy, you two finally made it. Ready to leave?"