The voice was wrong, low, and unmistakably male against the small form before him. He froze, then tried again softly, "Hello."
Same mismatch, the system made no correction. It simply let the disparity stand. He exhaled; talking invited attention, and attention meant effort. He didn't want that. Mute was simpler.
He spun away and summoned his status panel:
Level 1
NAME: Little Tank
CLASS: Tank
SKILLS: Basic Gathering, Basic Cooking, Noob Streamer
HP: 100/200
STAMINA: 100/200
DEFENSE: 100/200
ATTACK: 2/200
SPEED: 20/200
EXP: 0/1000
Unassigned Stat Points: 30
He swiped all points into Defense. The numbers shot up instantly, and he let loose a soft murmur, covering it with a small cough that echoed oddly in the open space.
Level: 1
NAME: Little Tank
CLASS: Tank
SKILLS: Basic Gathering, Basic Cooking, Noob Streamer
HP: 100/200
STAMINA: 100/200
DEFENSE: 130/200
ATTACK: 2/200
SPEED: 20/200
EXP: 0/1000
With a flick, he opened his mail: Welcome Reward Package!
[Accept] [Decline]
Items were added to his inventory with subtle confirmation tones. He equipped each piece of iron armor, which settled around his slight frame perfectly, though clunky and way too large for this tiny fox girl. Only the sword lingered. He tilted it in the light, then unequipped it, as it didn't fit mentally or physically.
Around him, the blank void filled in. Dirt hardened beneath his feet in a natural, uneven pattern. The air carried faint scents of greenery, warmth, something distant he couldn't name. Ahead, wooden houses formed, players materializing, still as they acclimated.
He didn't walk towards the other new players, but he angled toward a lone stall at the settlement's edge. An NPC stood behind it, methodically arranging small herb bundles.
He paused. The NPC looked up, surprise flashing before genuine warmth softened their features. Or, without overthinking, he said, [How are you doing?]
His voice still deep, the NPC blinked, then smiled. "Well enough," they replied, tone gentle and welcoming.
The stall sat crooked near the centre of the town square, wedged between the main flow of players like it had been there long before the place got busy and refused to move for anyone. It looked more like an old roadside lemonade stand than a proper shop, small and slightly uneven, its dark wooden frame warped just enough to suggest it had been built by hand and then left to survive on its own.
The counter was worn smooth where hands had rested, wood dulled by use. A rough cloth hung more from habit than presentation. Behind, shelves rose in a lopsided stack, imperfect but sturdy enough to hold everything needed.
Bundles of dried herbs hung from hooks and nails, tied together with bits of twine, their leaves brittle and curled like tiny, exhausted brooms. Glass bottles and cloudy vials crowded the shelves, some stoppered properly, but it wasn't pretty, and it wasn't trying to be.
He lingered in front of it longer than an unsuspecting baron at a discount sale, eyes drifting shelf to shelf. An earthy, tangy scent tickled his nostrils and settled in his throat with a comforting vibe.
He shuffled closer, and the NPC behind the stall finally looked up, straightening a bunch of herbs. He didn't blurt out a greeting. Instead, he cracked open his inventory and dramatically held up a sword.
He typed [I don't need this.]
The NPC's gaze flicked from sword to him. "…Most keep it," they offered, sounding like a medieval librarian dropping hints about overdue books.
He tilted his head and typed [Why.]
"For protection," said the NPC, taking the sword.
He shrugged [I won't use it.]
"…One gold", the seller said.
He bobbed his head, his massive helmet nearly falling off [Okay.]
Transaction completed, sword vanishing into thin air, and 1 gold plopped in front of him.
He barely glanced. His eyes ping ponged back to the stall [a cooking knife]
The NPC blinked. "…A kitchen knife?"
[Yes]
Surprise twitched in their shoulders. "Twenty silver."
He stared at his status:
Gold: 1
Silver: 0
Without so much as a 'Do or do not,' he quickly converted.
Gold: 0
Silver: 100
Then spent it.
Silver: 80
Knife in hand, he gave it a slow spin. Simple and well balanced, definitely not a weapon of mass destruction, but sturdy enough to cut a tomato and someone's ego. Feels… right.
[Thank you]
The NPC paused, eyebrows furrowing. "…You're welcome."
He nodded, then peered at the shelves again, [what can I use…]
Not the world's best phrasing, but he didn't bother polishing it. The NPC watched him with the intensity of a detective sizing up a mysterious suspect, "for cooking?"
He nodded [Yes]
The NPC reached for a small bundle of herbs "These are basic Bitter Leaf, Soft Root, Dried Stew, Worth squat solo."
He eyed the bundle [Okay]
"You can gather similar stuff outside the village," the NPC whispered like spilling a juicy secret, "most people walk right past them."
He nodded once [Ok, thank you]
"If you bring me twenty weeds," the NPC whispered, watching his face like it was primed for a reaction, "I'll give you ten silver."
[Okay] He didn't hesitate.
The NPC's look softened, almost approving. "Spring," he added.
He blinked. […Spring? Is it a food?]
"My name."
[Okay.]
The little tank stepped away, knife nested comfortably in his belt.
The village spread out before him, players morphing into beast forms that screamed something about role-playing. Some sprinted, some leapt, some practiced their battle cries, and some were already live-streaming to the two billion players currently playing. He didn't stop to watch. He waddled left to right, like a penguin: slow and steady, armour that was clearly too big for him shifting with reassuring heft.
NAME: Little Tank
CLASS: Tank
Level: 1
SKILLS: Basic Gathering, Basic Cooking, Noob Streamer
HP: 100/200
STAMINA: 100/200
DEFENSE: 130/200
ATTACK: 2/200
SPEED: 20/200
EXP: 0/1000