The interface updated immediately, Keane's HP and MP rising.
…
[SYSTEM]
Name: Keane
Level: 2
Class: None
EXP: [██████████]
[STATS]
Strength (STR): 99
Dexterity (DEX): 99
Constitution (CON): 99
Intelligence (INT): 99
Wisdom (WIS): 99
Charisma (CHA): 99
HP: [9902 / 9902]
MP: [9902 / 9902]
Resistances: []
[Skills]
None
[Sub Skills]
None
[Distributable Points]
Stat Points: 10
Skill Points: 10
Mastery Points: 10
…
'Level 2,' he thought, smirking.
As the men who had been fighting against the beast approached, the old man with the slashed cheek took the lead, limping over with a careful, measured step. He stopped just outside Keane's reach, the other four fanning out behind him like a battered honor guard. They wore expressions that flickered between reverence and caution.
"Forgive our caution, traveler," the old man began, bowing low. "We have seen many strange things in these woods, but none such as you."
Keane studied them, weighing their threat level and finding it wanting. "Not your fault," he replied. "That thing was a bit above your pay grade."
A murmur ran through the group. The old man smiled, a grim slash against the blood crusted on his jaw. "You saved us," he said, voice gruff. "Thought we were done for." His tone held awe, but also suspicion.
"It was a Makar, the bane of this pass. We thought we came prepared for anything, but…." He trailed off, eyeing the dead beast, the cratered skull and ruin of its face. "We were wrong… I do not know of many who could have done what you did."
Keane shrugged, letting his expression turn flat. "Guess I got lucky." He said, while thinking on the man's words.
"If you don't mind me asking, saviour… Who are you?"
"Just a traveler," he said, voice calm. "Got lost in these woods. Saw you in trouble, figured I'd lend a hand." He shrugged, playing it humble, though his tone was almost too cold for that.
The old man nodded. "We owe you our lives. If you wish food, shelter, even coin, it is yours for sure, our lord will see to it."
Keane's mouth twitched. "Food would be good. A bath wouldn't kill me either."
The old man tried to laugh, but it caught in his throat. Only then did Keane realised he had jus asked for a bath in such a place. The old man glanced at the other men, who all looked to him, then back to Keane. "If you would honor us, join our camp. There is water, and a fire."
"Sounds good," Keane said. He made to follow, but the old man held up a hand, sudden caution in his eyes.
"Sorry for the rudeness, but if you wouldn't mind, A question," the man said. "You say you are lost. From where do you hail? You bear a rather strange accent, like the accent of the West, yet your eyes…."
He trailed off again, looking for the words… but Keane gave him nothing.
After a moment, the man bowed again. "Sorry about that. You saved us. The rest is for the gods to sort."
They moved toward the wagons, picking through the dead, gathering the wounded. The tension never left, but it softened, replaced with a wary respect. Keane kept his gaze moving, scanning the dark for more threats, but the forest felt pacified, like the monster's death had driven off everything else for miles.
As they passed one of the wagons, Keane heard a soft sound from within, a gasp, then the hurried shuffling of cloth. He slowed, peering into the gloom.
A figure emerged from the shadows, ducking under the wagon flap with practiced grace. She was tall, nearly his height, with hair like poured gold and eyes a cold, electric blue. Her robe was travel-worn but elegant, cut to flatter, the fabric catching the moon in a way that made her every movement shimmer. She looked at Keane not with fear, but with a kind of sharp, measuring calculation that he recognized instantly from someone used to weighing value, danger, and outcome. Certainly, for someone who just survived an ordeal, she was too calm.
The old man straightened as soon as he saw her, and made a clumsy gesture of deference. "Lady Elara," he said, voice soft and reverent. "The beast is slain."
She nodded once, then stepped forward, fixing her eyes on Keane. For a moment, no one spoke.
Then… "You are the one who did this?" she asked. Her tone was smooth, the accent different from the men, each word crisp and perfectly enunciated.
Keane nodded, giving a simple answer without letting out anything in expression. "It was in the way."
Lady Elara's mouth curled at the edge, almost a smile. "I thank you, then. We would not have survived the night. It seems fortune favored us with a sword better than any we could buy." She said.
'She's strange, for sure.' Keane thought to himself as he studied her, just as she was studying him.
Her gaze flicked up and down Keane's form, as if cataloging his potential. "You are alone?"
"For now," Keane said.
"That will change, if you wish it," she said, and the way she said it left no doubt it was a command wrapped in courtesy. She extended her hand, the gesture equal parts invitation and challenge. "I am Lady Elara Vane. Master of this caravan."
Keane looked at the hand, then shook it. Her grip was somewhat dry and businesslike.
"Keane," he said again. "Just passing through."
"Not anymore," Elara said, the smile sharpened. "We'd more than like to have you here."
Behind her, the men were already tending the fire, the fear replaced by a kind of eager hope. They spoke to each other in low voices, sometimes glancing at Keane, always with the same blend of awe and anxiety.
Keane let himself be drawn into their orbit, letting things flow naturally. The world was different here, but some things never changed; power, reputation, leverage…
The fire burned bright against the night, and as Keane sat beside it, drying blood on his skin, he smiled a thin, private smile.
Looking at how things operated with the group, he couldn't quite put a hand on it. This Lady Elara figure, he thought, was either powerful herself, or had some sort of influence that gave her power in another form.
His observation was based off the fact that even after all that happened and the others nearly losing their lives, none of them seemed to blame her or look at her in any unfavourable light, as employees would their masters, especially in such situations.
Either way, he would find out.