Chapter 26: Mission 2 Unlocked
I had just taken my third bite of roast duck, surprisingly juicy, considering this wasn't some royal kitchen when the world decided to punch me in the throat.
The tavern doors creaked open.
And in walked trouble.
Not metaphorical trouble. Not the "oh no, I forgot to pay my inn bill" kind of trouble. No, this was the "eight-foot beastkin with biceps bigger than my head and a grudge thicker than my boots" kind.
Kaku.
Flanked, naturally, by the rest of the Happy Sunshine Squad: Trent with his charming smile and a glint in his eye that screamed too-nice-for-this-world, Kail with his resting 'the world is beneath me' face, and Keyra… Keyra looked like she'd just found the bastard who'd stepped on her favorite dagger.
"Oh, for fuck's sake," I muttered under my breath.
The innkeeper, bless his nosy soul, picked that exact moment to shout from behind the counter, "Kaizen! I'll be with you in a minute with that ale!"
Heads turned.
All four of them.
Kaku's ears twitched. Keyra's brow arched. Trent's smile sharpened, and Kail just looked like someone told him he had to interact with peasants again.
"Well, well," Kaku said as he stepped forward, each footfall a thunderclap across the wooden floor. "Look what we have here."
I grinned. "You know, I was starting to think I might go a whole week without seeing someone who wants to strangle me."
Keyra crossed her arms, posture rigid. "You're proud of what you did?"
"Which part?" I said, leaning back lazily in my seat. "Surviving? Walking away from certain death? Or being smart enough to know when a fight isn't mine?"
She took a step forward. "We nearly died."
I held her gaze. "So did I. Back in that cave. Goblin chief. Ringing any bells?"
Trent placed a calming hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off.
"We stayed and fought to protect innocent lives," she said.
"I didn't ask you to," I replied coolly. "I told you flat out, I'm not your hero."
Kaku exhaled slowly, his towering figure now looming beside the table. "You could've helped. We trusted you to have our backs."
"Trust?" I scoffed. "We met for all of twelve hours. I wasn't part of your team. I was a guy with a sword and an unfortunate proximity to your mess."
"You had orbs," Kail finally spoke, eyes narrowed. "You had equipment."
I glared. "All of which I earned by almost dying. Don't act like I rolled into this world with a guidebook and a starter pack."
"You had enough to help," Keyra snapped. "Even if it was just a little. But instead, you turned your back."
I stood now, my chair scraping across the floor behind me. "You think I wanted to abandon that village? You think I slept easy that night? I was barely holding myself together, limping toward Torak praying I wouldn't get eaten by some overgrown squirrel with mana rabies."
"You left us to bleed," Kaku growled. "And Keyra almost did."
"Then maybe you should've been better prepared!" I barked. "You're seasoned adventurers, right? Isn't that your thing?"
The room had gone quiet now. Other patrons stared, forks frozen halfway to their mouths. The innkeeper looked ready to dive behind the bar.
Keyra's voice dropped to a cold, deadly tone. "I had to watch children die while you probably sipped water and counted your loot."
My fists clenched.
I wanted to shout. To throw the table. To scream that I didn't ask for any of this. That this world was one giant fucked-up game I didn't even understand the rules of.
But I didn't.
I just looked her in the eye and said, "If you came here looking for guilt, you're talking to the wrong guy."
Kaku stepped closer, and for a moment, I thought he might hit me.
"You better pray we don't cross paths again out there," he said, voice a low growl. "Because next time, you won't get the chance to walk away."
I smiled thinly. "Looking forward to it."
Then I turned my back and walked upstairs, every step up that creaking stairwell feeling heavier than the last.
Let them hate me.
Better that than being used.
Better a coward in their eyes than a dead pawn in someone else's war.
I climbed the stairs two at a time, not because I was in a rush, but because I didn't want them to see me stop. Not now. Not after that mess.
The moment my door clicked shut behind me, I exhaled like I'd been holding it since the tavern floor.
I didn't feel anything.
Not a drop of regret. Not a scrap of guilt. Nothing about what Keyra had said, about the children, the deaths, the betrayal, touched anything in me. And that scared the hell out of me.
I dropped into the chair by the small desk, fingers flexing unconsciously. I didn't feel cold, or hot, or particularly anything. Just… hollow. Functional. Alert, aware, analytical—but not emotional. Not the way I remembered being. Not the way I used to be.
Back on Earth, I would've cried hearing something like that. Or at least felt some soul-crushing remorse. But here? My first thought was that it was logical. That staying behind would've gotten me killed. That I wasn't built for heroics.
I thought killing those goblins hadn't changed me because they weren't people. Because they were monsters, and maybe some part of my brain was still wired for games. But those villagers? The kids?
And still… nothing.
Not a twitch.
I lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. The worn wood planks above me didn't have answers, but they didn't need to. I already knew what was happening.
I was changing.
Not just mentally. Biologically. Something about this world or this system, or whatever force had yanked me from Earth had started altering me. Piece by piece. Layer by layer. I wasn't just Kaizen anymore. I was something else.
And then it got worse.
Ding.
The notification window materialized in front of me in that damn faint gold shimmer I'd come to loathe.
**---**
Mission 2 Unlocked
Title: Unknown
Primary Objective: Unknown
**---**
I closed my eyes and sighed, the weight of it settling over me like a second skin. Of course. Of fucking course. I hadn't even finished processing the fallout from the last one and this bastard of a system was already handing me a new death certificate.
Tomorrow. I'd begin tomorrow.
I wasn't going to rush in this time. No improvising. No hail mary lunges into danger because some trigger-happy mission said "Go." Four weeks. That's what I'd give myself. A full month of training. That meant at least 28 to 30 days in this time-dilated, calendar-bending world.
I'd use every last hour of it.
During those four weeks, I'd hammer my body into something that could survive here. Run, fight, train, meditate, then do it all again. I'd take one quest per week, bare minimum, to maintain my guild membership. It would be the only outside contact I'd entertain. No distractions. No side adventures. No emotional baggage.
Because this system didn't care if I was liked.
It didn't care about friendships, or honor, or political correctness. It had one function: missions. And failing one meant death.
NPCs. That's all they were. This world's people. Sure, some were interesting. Some even kind. But they weren't real to me. Not in the way my old life had been. Not when everything they did could be overwritten by the whims of this damn system.
I was the outlier.
The foreign code in a game I didn't install.
I was the Dragonborn. The Thane of Whiterun, Falkreath, Riften, Solitude, and Windhelm. Husband of Lydia and Serana. Arch Mage of the College of Winterhold. Tribune of the Imperial Legion. I'd seen too many worlds. Saved too many imaginary kingdoms. Built too many empires out of pixels.
And now I was here. In one that didn't pause. That didn't respawn. That didn't give you a walkthrough.
So I'd play it my way.
I'd get stronger. Smarter. Faster. I'd learn the rules better than the ones who were born into them.
And when the system gave me my next task, I'd be ready.
I turned over in bed, the warmth of the covers doing nothing for the chill gnawing at the edges of my conscience.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow, the grind began again.