That's right, that's what adventure is like!

An old iron sword

Type: Weapon/Longsword

Grade: Common (White)

Description: Approximately three feet long, the blade is covered with an indelible layer of oxidation, the wooden hilt is darkened by sweat, and the cord has been repeatedly worn and repaired, yet it feels exceptionally comfortable to hold.

Extraction Requirements: 1 combat-themed story

……

"This cheat code is a bit strange."

Inside the bustling tavern, melodious music flowed through the air, cheers and clinking glasses rang out one after another. Roland sat in a dimly lit corner, looking at the longsword in his hand, and gave this assessment.

The overhead light was dim, but the translucent characters floating on the iron sword were clearly visible, like glossy sword oil, forming something like a panel.

On the second day after he transmigrated, he still hadn't figured out what this so-called "extraction" meant. The only thing he understood was what kind of world he was in.

Raising my gaze, I saw an orc dancing on the table with a giant axe, a bard with a bard in his arms, and a dwarf standing sullenly to the side, all telling tales of the wonders of racial reproduction.

In the occasional whispers, the legendary adventurer's dragon-slaying exploits spread far and wide, believers promoted the ideals of their own churches, and ordinary people worried about the kingdom's instability.

Good news, this is a world of swords and magic.

Here, professions like mages, wanderers, warriors, and druids, which existed only in entertainment works in previous lives, are everywhere, and the extraordinary path has never refused anyone's visit.

The bad news is, this is a world of swords and magic.

Even without any adventurous intentions, dealing with monsters such as goblins, kobolds, and trolls is still essential, requiring constant vigilance.

As a model youth accustomed to peacetime, Roland's understanding of combat in his previous life was almost entirely limited to movies and anime. He had barely even witnessed a pig being slaughtered in the village, let alone personally wielding a longsword.

Arriving in this world so suddenly, his first reaction was surprise, but he quickly realized that he had to fight for his right to survive.

The body's former owner generously left behind his memories, allowing Roland to understand his current predicament.

The original owner was a farmer with a few acres of poor land. His usual work was tending to the wheat and removing pests. Occasionally, he could also drink a few glasses of cheap beer with his friends and talk about his ideals in life.

Until that day, the father came home with a worried look on his face and exclaimed, "This damned world! The newly enthroned king has started raising taxes again, and by a full 30%!"

The sudden increase of 30% in grain tax cost the lives of many poor people, but at that time few people realized that this was just the beginning.

War arrived as scheduled on the border of this kingdom, which now only had a small piece of territory left. The enemy army stormed in and occupied the capital with unparalleled force.

The king fled, regrouped, conscripted militia, and enforced tax collection.

None of the family members, who had maintained a relatively harmonious relationship, survived this series of misfortunes. When the guards in red robes came for the fifth time to plunder the remaining valuables, the original owner finally erupted in long-suppressed anger.

"My grandfather once said that when the hoe can no longer defend our dignity, we should take out this iron sword that is kept under the bed."

These were the last words the guard heard as his head flew high into the air, still stunned by the resistance of the lowly commoners.

Having killed the guards, it was impossible for Roland to remain in the original village. After several months of exile, Roland successfully took over the body of the same name due to a high fever.

A host of problems have arisen as a result.

He was poor, with only six or seven silver coins left, barely enough to cover his daily expenses for less than ten days in the face of soaring prices.

In the cold winter, the farm boy, who had no relatives to turn to, could not find a reliable shelter. He spent his days resting in the storeroom of a dilapidated inn, and could only sneak into the tavern at night when it was crowded to warm up.

Exile, though this is the last remaining territory of the kingdom, the town's guards are nominally still loyal to the royal family, though they have yet to see his portrait.

"The stingy nobles are only generous when they are hunting down disloyal subjects or holding parties, and the king is no exception."

The proverb from his memory surfaced inappropriately, causing Roland to press his temples, feeling that his current situation was quite difficult.

The only way to break the deadlock is to extract the annotations from the longsword in my hand using a combat-themed story and see what the effect is.

However, so far, Roland has tried listening to the bards' stories and borrowing old adventure storybooks from taverns, but to no avail.

Therefore, there is most likely only one correct way to open it.

Fight your own battles and create your own story.

The question is, who should we fight?

Roland immediately ruled out the option of leaving the town to hunt monsters, because he only had an iron sword, no extraordinary abilities, and no knowledge of the distribution of monsters in the vicinity.

He wanted to keep the danger within a manageable range as much as possible.

"If that's the case, then that's the only one left."

After thinking for a while, Roland turned his attention to the interior of the town.

According to the memories of his predecessor, there was a slave trader nearby who would buy living monsters from adventurers and then sell them to underground killing fields in the city to provide entertainment for powerful nobles.

Although he didn't have many silver coins, he could still afford to buy a monster of the lowest rank, so he might as well give it a try.

Having made up his mind, Roland no longer hesitated. Taking advantage of the fact that the market was still open, he immediately got up, opened the side door of the tavern, and slipped out.

call……

The moment Roland opened the door, he immediately felt a biting cold wind blowing in from the narrow alleyway, tearing his face until it turned red and painful, and his breath turned into white mist. He couldn't help but pull his sleeves tighter.

Fortunately, it didn't snow today, and there weren't even any dark clouds. The stars were displayed in the deep blue sky, and the bright moonlight shone down, illuminating the vast and fantastical world.

The rumble of wheels rolling on the street not far away, mixed with the chatter of pedestrians, filled the air. In addition to the aroma of barbecue from the pub, there was also a faint stench of rotting garbage nearby.

The town's streets were unlit, but the bright stars were enough to guide him. Roland lifted his feet and headed toward the trading market, which was two streets away.

The hilt of the iron sword slung across his waist was gripped tightly in his right hand. The rough, hard texture reminded him that he had truly stepped into a completely unfamiliar world and had to be wary of potential dangers at all times.

The adventurers who occasionally passed by exuded a dangerous aura, while ordinary townspeople stood respectfully by to avoid offending their authority, demonstrating the strict hierarchical social order.

Roland knew that from this day forward, the blade in his hand would be his only reliance, and would also become a precious medium on the path to transcendence.