"What do you mean, you're not a player?" Rolf grunted as he sat up. He splashed a few healing potions over his wounds, letting out a sigh of relief as he leaned against a rock and summoned a few silvery wraps from his inventory. "You hungry?"
Miles looked at him, and then at the silver wraps in his hands, a pang of memory hitting his stomach like a punch.
"No, thanks." He retorted, summoning a leather pouch from his inventory, along with an oval-shaped item covered with a silky cloth. "About me not being a player, that's exactly what I meant."
Miles grabbed a few pieces of monster jerky from the leather pouch, and summoned his [Desert Rain], squeezing the cactus right above his mouth, water dripping from it like rain to soak the dry land of his throat.
"It's not possible, kid." Rolf frowned. "If you were born in this world, you're a player. Anything else is cowshit."
Miles had to suppress a laugh not to choke on his jerky, but after a while, he quieted down and drank more water.
