System of the Beast Slayer [litrpg Adventure]
Copyright© 2025 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 34
Cloudy market day.
Roy’s left hand was a web of strained veins as he gripped the long neck of a white goose; his right held a short, razor-thin knife. He aimed for the artery at the base of the bird’s throat and sliced in a motion like lightning.
Blood gushed, hot as a spring, soaking into the wooden pail until it brimmed with thick, dark clots.
He let out a slow breath and glanced at the template that hovered in his mind:
Roy
Age: 13 years, 10 months
Status: Commoner
HP: 50
Strength: 5
Agility: 5.1
Constitution: 5
Perception: 7
Willpower: 4.8
Charisma: 5
Spirit: 6
Skills: Carnage LV3 — Hostile creatures that attack you and enter a one-foot radius around your body have a 10% chance to be stunned by your aura; if their Willpower is lower than yours they may lose bodily control for up to one second. Damage you deal to any of the ten species you have personally slain is permanently increased by 10%. Crossbow Mastery LV1 Meditation LV1 Scryl LV2
Personal Level: 2 (700/1000)
Other: Unknown
Personal space: 1 cubic unit
...
Roy had been working the market for half a month. Because his shift was only in the mornings, he averaged about twenty slaughtered birds a day. The volume of his work finally triggered a true upgrade: Carnage rose from LV2 to LV3. Half a month spent breathing poultry dung had not been wasted.
In that time he’d earned twenty Crown and roughly three hundred experience points. The Berbercane Fruit and Sunblossom potions he’d been taking lost their temporary effects as his body adjusted; the two weakest stats, Strength and Constitution, had climbed to a normal human baseline of five. Physically, compared to when he left Kagen village, he had grown two inches taller — actually two feet taller in their measures — now five foot six, with a hint of muscle under his clothes. He’d turned from gaunt to balanced, with sharper features and a boyish vigor.
When the bird was downed, dunked in scalding water, plucked and gutted, it was already noon. Roy cleaned his knife, untied his apron, wiped the grime off, nodded to the dozing old Rul on a nearby stool, and left the market for the House of Cardell.
...
In the courtyard Roy found Ffion, her cheeks flushed with the day’s heat, and handed her the small parcel of herbs he’d prepared.
“What’s this?” she asked, taking the bag, curiosity spreading across her face.
“Honeysuckle,” Roy said. “A herb. Brew a little every day; it’s good for women’s health. I work at Tross’s stall, so I can get it easily.”
“Why are you giving me a gift all of a sudden?”
“Consider it a thank-you,” Roy said plainly. “You’ve helped me a lot these past days. I couldn’t not give you something, I’d feel bad otherwise.”
Ffion’s face went quiet. “Roy, I didn’t help you for a gift.”
“I know that. But why then?” Roy pressed on. “You’ve been tutoring me and going out of your way—like an older sister would. Why are you so ... kind?”
Ffion inhaled slowly. Her fingers twisted a strand of wine-red hair. For a moment a vague sadness flickered in her eyes. “You’re right. I ... have a younger brother. You remind me of him. Sometimes I forget, and I treat you like he was here.”
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