Early in the morning, Wis'adel pushed open the battered wooden door and stood on the threshold, stretching lazily.
Sunlight spilled across her body, now wrapped in the black symbiotic suit, and the slim curves of her frame no longer looked as pitifully thin as before.
Under You Yi's nourishment, the skeletal, skin-and-bones state brought on by long-term malnutrition had begun to improve. Even her previously flat chest now showed the faintest hint of shape.
You Yi's lazy voice sounded in her mind.
"At this rate, before long you'll be completely out of that malnourished state. You'll start looking more and more like an actual woman instead of so gaunt and hollow. Once I've got a bit more energy, I can tune you even further—muscle density, bone strength, neural response speed, all of it can be optimized. Forget some so-called golden ratio. I'll make you into a Gold Saint."
Wis'adel had no idea what a Gold Saint was.
By now, she was used to strange words occasionally popping out of You Yi's mouth. She merely lowered her head and glanced at her body without saying anything.
Or rather, she did not care much about her figure. What concerned her more was the strengthening of her body itself.
To be fair, given the kind of conditions she had grown up in, the fact that the Wis'adel from the game had turned out looking like that probably owed a great deal to some very powerful genes.
It was easy enough to foresee that the Wis'adel of this world would eventually have an even better figure than the one from the game.
She started walking down the roads of the settlement.
There were fewer people out than usual, but the usual faces were still around. Some were repairing shacks, some were cooking over fires, some were squatting against the walls in the sunlight, zoning out.
But when Wis'adel passed by, those gazes began to change.
Some people looked at her, then hurriedly looked away the moment their eyes met hers.
Some slowed down and let her pass first as she approached.
Some simply turned around and ducked into another alley.
She even saw one person who had stolen from her in the past. From more than twenty meters away, the moment he noticed her, he spun around and darted into a house, never to emerge again.
"They're pretty scared of you," You Yi teased.
"Us," Wis'adel corrected him.
In a settlement with only a few hundred shifting residents, news spread fast. Within a single day, the annihilation of that mercenary squad had reached every corner.
At first, nobody believed she had done it.
A brat who used to get bullied wiped out seven or eight seasoned veterans all by herself?
What a joke.
But once people started saying they had personally seen her walk to the mercenary squad's territory and later return carrying back their equipment and belongings, more and more began to believe it.
And with the strange Originium Arts she had recently displayed in several jobs, Wis'adel had begun to earn herself a bit of a reputation here.
The people who had once bullied her started avoiding her. Some even fled overnight, terrified that she might settle old scores.
On the mercenary side, some had even started coming to her voluntarily and specifically requesting that she take on jobs—mostly difficult ones, or escort work.
All of this was the change brought about by You Yi.
But Wis'adel did not become arrogant or swell with self-importance because of it. On the contrary, she cared even more about improving her strength. Whenever she had free time, she ran out to the rocky areas to practice aiming and shooting.
The results weren't exactly bad, but once real combat started, she still instinctively fell back into firing at near point-blank range. You Yi had mocked her for that more than once, saying all her practice was wasted effort and a pure waste of energy.
Wis'adel made her way to the tavern where mercenaries picked up jobs.
The moment she stepped inside, the previously lively chatter gradually quieted down.
Some of the Sarkaz mercenaries looked at her with caution and scrutiny.
Peers were natural rivals, and mercenaries even more so. The best resources were always monopolized by the strong. The most lucrative commissions would always be offered first to the very top tier. The weak could only scavenge what others left behind—or the scraps no one wanted at all.
When the original wolves were devoured by a new beast, what it drew from the others was only wariness. After all, no one knew just how large this beast's appetite might be.
Wis'adel paid those gazes no mind and found herself a seat in a corner.
She didn't order alcohol. Only a cup of water.
Her battle record had certainly intimidated quite a few people, but there were always some who thought they had some ability, had just come back from work elsewhere, got egged on by a few others, took one look at her age, and decided they wanted to build a name for themselves by stepping on her.
"Tch. Is the bar for becoming a mercenary way too low these days?"
The voice came from the next table, carrying open mockery.
Wis'adel didn't even look up.
The Sarkaz man speaking was in his thirties, thick with muscle, reeking of alcohol, and the sort who looked troublesome at a glance. Two companions sat beside him, clearly there to enjoy the show.
He looked Wis'adel up and down, his eyes sweeping over the not-yet-fully-developed body beneath the black suit, and then curled his lips into a malicious grin.
"You're skinny as hell and you still came to take commissions? Hell, if someone threw you into a brothel, nobody would pay for you. Why don't you go drink some milk and grow a little before coming back?"
Low chuckles sounded from a few nearby tables.
More people simply held their cups and cast sidelong glances her way, obviously waiting for entertainment.
Wis'adel lifted her cup, took a sip of water, and still said nothing.
After waiting a few seconds and seeing no reaction from her, the man's smugness only deepened.
He turned toward the person beside him and deliberately raised his voice.
"I'm telling you, these days every cat and dog can—"
He never finished the sentence.
The next moment—
A dark-red beam of light flashed past his ear.
Boom!
A bowl-sized hole exploded open in the tavern's stone wall, shards of rock flying everywhere. Even a nearby table got hit by the debris.
The man's voice locked in his throat, and his whole body went rigid.
A moment later, he finally felt a sharp pain in his right ear. He reached up with his hand—and found half his ear gone. The wound had been seared black by the beam, and hardly any blood came out at all.
"Ahhh!"
He clutched his ear and screamed.
His two companions shot to their feet at once, hands already reaching for their weapons as they glared furiously at Wis'adel.
Wis'adel remained seated where she was, the cup in her hand not yet even lowered.
She raised her head and glanced at the three of them.
"Make more noise, and the next shot won't miss."
The three froze.
The man still had his hand over what remained of his ear, his scream stuck in his throat, face pale as paper. His two companions had their weapons half-drawn, unable to go further yet equally unable to put them back, stuck there in awkward paralysis.
The tavern was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop.
A few seconds later, someone in the corner finally spoke.
"Violence is forbidden in the tavern. You're not going to do anything about it?"
The speaker was a mercenary wrapped in an old cloak. His tone was hostile, but he wasn't addressing Wis'adel. He was speaking to the barkeep.
The barkeep lifted his eyes, glanced at the man, then looked at the hole in the wall before finally speaking to Wis'adel.
"If you've got a problem, settle it outside. No next time. And for damaging the wall—you'll pay for that."
Wis'adel replied calmly, "Take it out of my next payment."
The barkeep nodded, then went back to washing his cups as though nothing had happened.
The mercenary who had spoken up was stunned for a moment. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but seeing the barkeep's attitude, he thought better of it and shut up.
The three who had started the trouble also realized that any face they might have had left was already gone. They slunk miserably toward the door.
The tavern stayed silent for a few seconds, then the conversations gradually resumed, and nobody mentioned the matter again.
Inside her mind, You Yi snorted.
"I swear, are these people just asking for it? Do they not know who they are until somebody smacks them in the face?"
Wis'adel lifted her cup and drank down the rest of the water, about to say something—
Just then, the barkeep spoke.
"There's a commission. You taking it or not?"
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