The adventurer at the bottom is fantasizing again.

Frost Valley City.

It is a hub city in the north, not large in size, but very prosperous due to the caravans that come and go.

"The rent is two silver coins, and we are still three copper coins short."

Lorraine flicked the seven coins on the ground helplessly, muttering to himself, "If I don't find some work soon, I'll be starving in a few days."

He lived in a shack in a slum outside the city; he couldn't find a cheaper place to stay.

You can't sleep on the streets here; the outdoors is freezing cold as winter approaches, and passing caravans won't mind having another unprofitable item.

The thought that she would soon become a slave after only three months of transmigration filled Lorraine with overwhelming sorrow.

Originally, the original owner could have a stable job and some savings by helping caravans move goods, but an accident caused him to be bedridden for nearly half a month.

Not only did no one dare to hire him for a while, but his savings were also taken away by the landlord, leaving him no choice but to move to the slums outside the city.

Lorraine has managed to make a living by relying on the familiarity he had built up in the city over the past ten years, taking on odd jobs from his regular customers.

But with the recent influx of refugees into the city, even chores are becoming increasingly difficult for Lorraine to do.

Some of these newly arrived refugees don't even ask for wages; they're willing to work a whole day for you if you just let a little food slip through your fingers.

As the city population grows, not only is food, essential for survival, becoming scarce, but even rents in the slums are rising.

Fortunately, there's always a way out; the cheat-like ability he gained after transmigrating gave him a glimmer of hope.

"I was planning to wait for another draw, but now I have to go on this adventure sooner," he muttered.

As he focused his attention, a panel that only Lorraine could see appeared before him.

[Name: Cassio Lorraine]

Age: 19

Race: Human

[Strength: 12]

Agility: 11

[Constitution: 9]

【Intelligence: 12】

【Charm: 11】

[Perception: 10]

[Experience Exploration: 91]

[Exploration Area: Frostvale (31%)]

The rewards received are as follows:

[Lorraine's Burning Hands: Let your hands burn at extremely high temperatures. Don't worry, it won't hurt you.]

[Profanity Mastery: You've mastered the profanities of all races, go ahead and use them!]

[Broken Sword: A broken sword]

Skills: Common Language (Proficient), Lockpicking (Skilled), Heavy Lifting (Proficient), Climbing (Beginner), Street Fighting (Beginner), Stealth (Skilled)

.....

Simply engage in any exploration activity in this world to gain exploration experience. Use this experience to roll the fate dice and receive different random rewards based on the result.

This was his greatest asset in this world, as, according to the original owner's memories, this world was a fantasy world where extraordinary powers existed.

Not only are there adventurous travelers roaming the land, but also mages who can summon heavenly fire (as described by bards), legendary warriors capable of taking on a hundred enemies single-handedly, and druids who wield the power of nature and can transform into wild beasts...

These things filled him with longing and were his only hope as he struggled to survive in the slums.

"Why......"

The cold room pulled Lorraine back to reality, and he sighed silently.

Only by gaining the power to protect oneself can one explore this fascinating world.

By sneaking into people's homes around the city at night these past few days, he has already rolled the dice twice, earning 100 points each.

The first two times he rolled the same number, which resulted in a broken sword and the ability to speak profanity.

He could understand that; it's just bad luck... it's normal to draw some junk.

But after finally rolling a five, what the hell is this Burning Hand reward?!

With a thought, his two palms instantly burst into flames, just as the system had described. He didn't even feel the burning sensation, only a warm feeling in his palms.

But if he remembers correctly, this spell should be able to shoot out flames, right?

What good is having your hands on fire?

"Alright, at least I don't have to worry about freezing to death in winter..." Lorraine forced an optimistic tone.

He shook his head, clearing his mind of the jumbled thoughts, then put the coins back into his pocket and left the house.

The stench mixed with the cold air hit Lorraine's face directly, clearing his mind considerably.

What comes into view are various crooked shacks, built from various discarded wooden planks, some of which even still bear the original writing.

The roofs were even more varied: rusty iron sheets, tattered canvas, dried animal hides, and some were even completely exposed to the elements. In any case, the roofs were just as wet inside and out when it rained.

In stark contrast to these dilapidated houses is the distant sky, where powerful magic has swirled the clouds into vortexes, making them exceptionally beautiful under the sunlight.

Lorraine rubbed her nose and stepped over a man lying on the ground. She didn't know if he was drunk or simply dead; nobody in this place cared.

This world is completely different from the one he lived in before he transmigrated. It seems that the lives of the lower classes are not important here. Lorraine sometimes really wonders how there are so many people living here in such a harsh environment.

He first went to a blacksmith shop and spent five copper coins to buy a brand new leather scabbard for his rusty, broken sword.

This was clearly a very effective investment; at least Lorraine looked presentable with a sword on his back, if one could ignore the holes in his tattered clothes.

Lorraine walked along the streets of the city for a while and finally arrived at the most famous tavern in Frostvale—the Hearthfire Tavern.

It was only morning, but dozens of people had already gathered in the open space next to the tavern.

The caravan's packhorses were tethered to wooden stakes, snorting idly.

Several merchants in fur coats huddled together, pointing and gesturing at the sheepskin rolls, while a row of people squatted nearby, waiting for work.

Lorraine squeezed into the crowd and circled around to a caravan that was recruiting people.

The team leader, a short, stout middle-aged man, was directing the laborers to load goods onto the truck. He glanced up at Lorraine, waved his hand, and said, "Lorraine, right? You've just recovered from your illness. This trip is long, so we can't take you."

Lorraine sighed softly, deciding not to make a fool of herself by going any closer.

He was pondering whether to invest a few coins to buy some decent clothes, which might increase his chances of getting a job, when he caught a glimpse of a new convoy approaching in the distance.

Six flatbed carts, covered with tarpaulins, stood beside a tall, thin merchant who looked to be in his forties, surrounded by several guards, talking to a group of people who appeared to be adventurers.

The adventurers were wearing mismatched leather armor, and the leader was a middle-aged man with a somber face, looking weathered and worn.

Lorraine quickly turned a corner and walked over.

"Do you need bodyguards?" he asked casually as he stood in front of the merchant.

The tall, thin businessman sized him up.

His clothes were tattered, but he looked quite strong. More importantly, he had a local accent, which clearly indicated he wasn't with the other three people.

"Can you read?"

"knowledge."

"Are you injured?"

"without."

"My name is Karl." The merchant pointed to the three men beside him. "It's only a three-to-five-day journey. They'll each get ten silver coins. Your outfit... five silver coins including meals. If you're willing to work, wait here for a bit. I need to find a few more people."

Although five silver coins were a bit less than the others, Lorraine was well aware that his equipment was clearly not in the same style as the other adventurers, so he readily agreed.

"This friend looks unfamiliar. Have you ever been with a caravan before?" the leading adventurer suddenly interjected.

"I did," Lorraine replied without any hesitation. Following a caravan to move goods counts as following them, right?

After waiting for another half hour, the merchant Karl paced back and forth a few times, then took out his pocket watch and glanced at it, looking very anxious.

Most of the people looking for work here are unemployed vagrants who dare to call themselves adventurers after somehow finding a dagger or knife or something similar.

These people might not have had a proper meal in months, and Karl clearly looked down on them.

Someone like Lorraine, who can wield a sword, is already considered an elite, not to mention that his sword is heavier than the average person's...

"No more waiting, load the truck, get ready to go." Karl gestured to the guards, and those who were squatting or sitting stood up and began to gather around the truck.

Lorraine stomped her numb feet on the ground, about to move, when a commotion suddenly came from the tavern.

"Hey! Wait a minute... wait for me!"