The first hint of dawn painted the cave entrance an uncertain gray. I'd spent a restless night, my mind replaying the question of my appearance over and over. Fleeing was one thing, but doing so with the face of a murderer wanted by the most powerful order in the kingdom was a far more perilous undertaking.
I knew I couldn't put off the inevitable any longer. Staying here was just passively waiting to be discovered. I had to find a way to change my appearance, and quickly. My Avarice Points were at zero, so a miraculous solution via the System seemed unlikely for now. Perhaps the "Domination" essence I'd absorbed from Ser Klemens could help in a way I hadn't yet understood?
I focused on the "Grand Grimoire of Avarice," hoping a new option would materialize. Nothing. The interface remained stubbornly the same. Frustration began to build. This System was powerful, certainly, but it was also cryptic and seemed to reveal its secrets only drop by drop.
I decided to leave the cave. The cool morning air did me good, clearing some of the fog from my troubled sleep. I needed to find food and, hopefully, accumulate a few Avarice Points. Every point was precious now.
My morning hunt was more fruitful than the day before. My enhanced Mental Acuity allowed me to spot small animals and edible plants more easily. I managed to catch a rather slow, large lizard, and absorbing it earned me one Avarice Point. It was meager, but better than nothing. A few berries and roots later, I'd accumulated a total of 3 AP.
Three points. Not enough for a stat upgrade, but maybe enough for something else? I thought back to my main concern: my face. If the System didn't offer a direct solution, perhaps I could influence it?
I remembered how I'd been able to define my name. I'd thought of the name "Falko," and the option had appeared. What if I focused intensely on the idea of changing my appearance?
I sat at the foot of a tree, closing my eyes to concentrate better. I pictured another face.
Not something radically different, but with slightly altered features. Darker hair, perhaps. A slightly different nose, a squarer jaw. The image of a hunter, someone hardened by the elements, accustomed to the wild.
As I visualized this new face with all the strength of my will, a new notification finally appeared in my vision, right where I expected it:
[Option Unlocked: "Basic Facial Reconfiguration"]
[Description: Allows slight modification of facial features, hair, and eye color. Change is permanent until a new reconfiguration.]
[Cost: 3 AP.]
[Confirm Reconfiguration? (YES/NO)]
A smile of relief spread across my lips. It had worked! The System was receptive to my desires, at least when they were specific enough and I had the necessary points.
Three AP – exactly what I had. Luck was on my side, for once.
Without hesitation, I thought "YES."
A strange, indescribable sensation ran across my face. It wasn't painful, more like warm clay being gently reshaped. I felt my hair darken, my skin take on a slightly more weathered tone. It only lasted a few seconds.
When the sensation stopped, I opened my eyes with a mixture of apprehension and excitement. I had no mirror, of course, but I could feel that something had changed. My hands explored my face. My nose seemed a little straighter, my jaw more defined. I ran my fingers through my hair; it was shorter and a dark brown, almost black, instead of the dull mousy brown I'd always had.
I hurried to the small stream where I'd drunk the day before. Leaning over the clear water, I saw my reflection. It was no longer Konrad, the fearful servant. The face staring back at me was that of a stranger, rougher, more mature. My eyes, once a nondescript gray, had taken on a darker, almost hazel hue, with a glint of determination I didn't recognize in myself.
It wasn't a complete transformation, but it was enough. Enough that no one would recognize me at first glance as Ser Klemens's former servant. I was Falko, the hunter. And now, I looked the part.
An enormous weight seemed to lift from my shoulders. The fear of being recognized at every moment had lessened somewhat. Of course, the danger hadn't disappeared. The Saintly Knights were still looking for me, and they were intelligent and ruthless. But I now had an advantage, a chance to blend in, to disappear.
I spent the rest of the morning getting used to my new face, my new identity. I practiced walking with a more confident stride, looking people in the eye – a habit that years of servitude had made me lose.
It was time to leave this forest. It had offered me temporary refuge, but I couldn't stay here forever. I needed to find a community, a place where I could earn a living, learn, and maybe, just maybe, find some answers about this System of Avarice and why it had chosen me.
I gathered my meager belongings – Ser Klemens's sword, which I was starting to consider my own, and a small, makeshift bag containing a few dried berries. Casting one last look at the cave that had sheltered me, I set off, choosing a direction at random, towards the unknown.
The sun was high in the sky now, and its warmth comforted me. I was Falko. A new name, a new face, and a strange power growing within me. The road would be long and dangerous, but for the first time since that terrible day in Ser Klemens's manor, a genuine hope began to stir within me. The hope to survive, the hope to understand, and perhaps, one day, the hope to be truly free.
The forest gradually thinned out, giving way to rolling hills and paths worn люди by the occasional passage of travelers or livestock. My new face gave me newfound confidence, but caution remained my best ally. I walked at a steady pace, the sword crudely fastened to my waist with a leather strap I'd found among Ser Klemens's belongings – a macabre detail I tried to ignore.
After several hours of walking under a scorching sun, I began to feel tired and thirsty. My "Level of Avarice" was still at 1, and my "Avarice Points" were at zero. I had to find a way to replenish them, and quickly. Every improvement, no matter how small, increased my chances of survival.
Rounding a bend in the path, I spotted smoke rising in the distance. A village? Or perhaps just an isolated farm? Whatever it was, it meant civilization, and therefore, potentially, opportunities.
I approached cautiously, using trees and bushes for cover. It was a small hamlet, a few houses clustered around a rudimentary central square. Children were playing near a well, and a few adults were busy with their daily chores.
The atmosphere seemed peaceful, a far cry from the oppression I'd known in the city where Ser Klemens lived.
Before entering the village, I took a moment to observe. I saw no sign of Saintly Knights, which was a relief. But I had to stay on my guard. My new face might protect me from immediate recognition, but suspicious behavior would attract attention.
I decided to adopt the demeanor of a passing hunter, looking for work or information. It was the identity I'd chosen, and now I had to play it convincingly.
Entering the hamlet, I felt a few curious glances fall on me. It was normal. A stranger armed with a sword wasn't a daily sight in such a remote place. I headed towards what looked like a small tavern or inn, a building slightly larger than the others, with a crudely painted wooden sign depicting a tankard of ale.
Inside, the air was dim and smoky. A few men sat at tables, drinking and talking in low voices. A portly innkeeper with a ruddy face eyed me from behind his counter.
"What can I do for you, stranger?" he asked in a gruff voice.
"I'm looking for work," I replied, trying to inject an assurance into my voice that I didn't quite feel. "I'm a hunter. I can rid the area of vermin, or bring in game."
The innkeeper looked me up and down, his gaze lingering on my sword. "A hunter, eh? We haven't had much trouble with vermin lately. But…" He paused, scratching his chin. "There is old Farmer Elms, a bit further down the road. He's always complaining about wolves attacking his sheep.
Nobody here really has the nerve to deal with them. If you're as good as you claim, it might earn you a few coins."
Wolves. The thought sent a shiver down my spine. I'd never faced a wolf in my life. But it was an opportunity. An opportunity to earn money, and more importantly, an opportunity to use my System of Avarice on more substantial creatures than lizards or insects.
"I can handle it," I declared, with more confidence than I actually possessed.
"Where can I find this Farmer Elms?"
The innkeeper gave me rough directions.
Before leaving, I ordered some bread and water, paying with one of the few copper coins I'd found in a pocket of Ser Klemens's tunic. It was a risk, using that money, but hunger was too pressing.
As I ate, I discreetly observed the other patrons in the tavern. Their conversations revolved around crops, the weather, news from neighboring villages. Nothing that directly concerned me. I did, however, notice a tattered poster nailed to a wall. It depicted a crudely drawn face with a brief description. My heart tightened. Was it me?
I casually stood up and moved closer to get a better look. The drawing was vague, but the features bore a faint resemblance to my old face, Konrad's face. The description spoke of a "renegade servant," accused of the "heinous murder" of a Saintly Knight. A substantial reward was offered for his capture, dead or alive.
A chill ran down my spine. They were already actively searching for me. My change of appearance had come just in time. But it also meant I couldn't let my guard down. Nowhere.
I quickly left the tavern, a new urgency propelling me forward. Elms's farm wasn't just a job; it was a necessity. I needed to become stronger, more skilled. The wolves would be my first real test as Falko, the hunter. And my System of Avarice would be my secret weapon.
The farm was isolated, surrounded by fenced pastures where a few scrawny sheep grazed nervously. An old man, his back stooped and his face weathered by the sun, was busy near a dilapidated barn. This was undoubtedly Elms.
I approached and explained my purpose. He looked at me with a mixture of hope and suspicion.
"Wolves, yes," he said in a weary voice.
"They took three of 'em last week. If you can drive 'em off, or better yet, kill 'em, I'll give you what I can. I'm not a rich man, but I'll keep my word."
He showed me the tracks left by the wolves, pointing in the general direction they came from. The task looked daunting. But as I looked at the prints in the soft earth, a strange excitement, almost a hunger, began to stir within me. The hunger of Avarice, ready to be unleashed on new prey. I would face these wolves, not just for the money or to help this farmer, but for myself. To become stronger. To survive.