Sword Art Online: Moonlight Swordman.

Ren struggled with the spear from noon until late afternoon.

His hands burned from the friction against the shaft, and every overly forceful swing scraped against his palms, leaving painful red marks.

Sweat dripped from his chin, falling onto the dusty ground.

His entire body ached and felt as heavy as if he had been beaten by an angry mob.

His shoulders throbbed, his legs were numb, and every joint creaked as he forced himself to stand upright.

Ren's knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the ground. His breathing was ragged, his chest felt like it was being squeezed tight.

He pulled a bottle of clean water from his inventory and drank greedily. The cool liquid rushed down his throat, but it did nothing to ease his exhaustion.

Laughter and chatter echoed from a distance:

"Is that guy still training?"

"Yeah, since early morning."

"Crazy. He hasn't taken a break at all."

"Why go that far?"

Ren froze, gripping the bottle tightly.

The voices of the unfamiliar players rang clear, so distinct that he didn't even need to eavesdrop to catch every word.

A discomfort swelled in his chest. His heart pounded as he instinctively looked around. Were they talking about him?

A flicker of anxiety passed through him. Ren scanned their faces, searching for any sign of mockery.

But then, he exhaled in relief when he realized they weren't looking at him. It seemed the "crazy" person in their conversation wasn't him.

Not him... but not all that different either.

Ren was also desperately training. But he could only come to the training grounds at noon when the place was nearly empty, when no one would pay attention to him.

When the cheerful voices had already left, leaving behind a vast, hollow silence.

He had thought training alone would be better. No one would see him stumble with the heavy spear. No one would laugh when he fell flat on the ground. But...

The silence of the training field made Ren feel like he was the only one left in the world.

He struggled, he tried… but everything felt utterly meaningless.

(3/100)

That was the weapon mastery progress he had gained after spending his entire afternoon and evening training.

Just three measly points after hours of fighting. He stared at them, his eyes stinging, the exhaustion weighing even heavier.

Will I ever get there? The thought crept into his mind, tightening his chest.

But if he gave up now… he would always be left behind.

Ren's shoulders slumped as he looked at the spear lying on the ground before him.

The spearhead had dulled slightly from continuous impact, and the shaft was full of scratches from his tight grip.

It was old and ugly... but it was the only thing he had.

If he couldn't master it, he would have nothing.

He would always be weak, useless, left behind...

Alone.

The golden hues of dusk stretched long shadows across the cracked earth. The training grounds were vast and empty, with only a few straw dummies standing motionless, their bodies covered in frayed cuts.

Ren forced himself up from the ground.

Well... maybe I should just finish my last piece of bread and find a spot to sleep for the night... no money for an inn. He thought about sleeping near the town's quest board.

But the thought of the freezing night air made him immediately dismiss that idea.

His body ached and felt as heavy as if he had been beaten by an angry mob.

His shoulders throbbed, his legs were numb, and every joint creaked as he forced himself to stand upright.

The silence was so deep that Ren could hear the wind slicing through the air, carrying the sharp chill of the evening. There was no more laughter. No one else was around.

Just him.

But the quiet wasn't peaceful. It was constantly shattered by harsh, jarring sounds.

Thwack!

A sharp blade slashed through a training dummy nearby. Stray bits of straw scattered into the air.

Thump!

The sound of a wooden sword striking a target echoed, accompanied by the heavy breathing of someone still training.

Ren turned his head.

At the far end of the training grounds, a player was still swinging his weapon with forceful precision.

The sharp whoosh of the blade slicing through the air ripped apart the evening's stillness. Red damage numbers flashed briefly above the straw dummy before fading away.

In the empty training field, a boy about Ren's age stood motionless before the training dummy, his figure bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun.

He wore a plain, dark brown starter leather armor, unadorned and weathered, as if it had endured countless battles. The faint scratches on the armor shimmered under the light, giving him a sense of quiet resilience.

Slender and shorter than Ren, Nautilus seemed to be swallowed by his oversized armor.

His dull, moss-colored hair fell loosely around his youthful face, with a few strands obscuring his light brown eyes, making him look withdrawn and timid.

Those eyes stared at the lifeless wooden dummy before him, distant and unreadable, as if his mind was elsewhere.

His thin arms gripped the wooden sword tightly, his knuckles turning white, trembling slightly as if he had to exert all his strength just to hold onto the weapon.

The air was heavy with stillness, broken only by steady breathing and the wind whispering through the training field.

But then, without warning, the boy swung his sword, and the sharp sound of the blade cutting through the air shattered the quiet.

The wooden sword slashed down, striking the dummy with unwavering precision, stopping just as it made contact, without hesitation.

His movements were swift and accurate. Each strike was strong and efficient, completely different from Ren's clumsy fumbling.

Ren averted his gaze, his shoulders sinking under invisible weight.

The relentless sounds continued to echo through the empty grounds, piercing into Ren's ears.

Thwack! Thwack! Thump!

Even without looking, he could picture the dummies being torn apart, splintering under the strength of skilled players.

Why... why is he so good? A pang of jealousy struck Ren. But he shook his head, trying to banish the overwhelming sense of inferiority.

Dragging his aching, leaden body, Ren left the training grounds.

Behind him, the sound of wood striking against straw dummies continued, steady and unwavering....sharp and merciless.

They embedded themselves into Ren's mind, a constant reminder of how weak he still was. 

The old cobblestone path led back to the silent town. Ren's footsteps echoed through the dusk as night slowly fell. 

One by one, the crystal lamps flickered to life, casting a dim, cold glow. 

No laughter. No warmth of human presence. Only Ren, alone amidst the winding streets and moss-covered walls. 

He took a bite of the hard, black bread in his hand. A sharp pain shot through his teeth as they struggled to break through the rough, rock-like crust. 

A faint hint of sweetness brushed against his tongue before the bitterness and astringency of dark rye overwhelmed him. 

Ren forced himself to swallow despite the burning pain in his throat. Each swallow felt like a blade cutting through, making him nearly choke. 

'Maybe… I should soak it in water first,' he thought. But even water had to be rationed. He couldn't afford to waste a single drop. 

His grip tightened around the stale bread, the rough texture scraping against his raw palms. 

He pressed forward, leaving behind the heavy darkness and the distant, ceaseless clash of swords. 

His aimless steps brought him to the quest board. 

Ren scanned the board, his eyes pausing on each of the countless papers pinned haphazardly across it. 

Everything remained the same, hunting quests, monster extermination missions, all perilous. 

They hung like silent challenges, waiting for those strong and reckless enough to step forward. 

But none of them were meant for him. 

Ren let out a weary sigh, his gaze lingering on the enticing rewards listed beneath each quest. 

Gold, rare items… all just within reach, yet as distant as the stars in the night sky. 

Around the board, players gathered in groups, chatting and laughing. They exchanged strategies, discussing the most efficient ways to hunt monsters. 

Ren stood amidst the bustling crowd, feeling like nothing more than a shadow. 

No one noticed his presence. No one cared about the weight of uncertainty and anxiety pressing down on his small shoulders. 

He considered sleeping here, right beneath the quest board. Perhaps if he woke up early enough, he could snatch an easier quest when they refreshed tomorrow. 

But he wasn't the only one with that idea. 

Around the board, several players had already slumped down, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, eyes shut as they waited. 

Their gazes, when open, were sharp and cold, ready to seize any new quest the moment it appeared. 

Ren shivered slightly. The space was cramped and unwelcoming, offering neither safety nor comfort. 

He felt like he was standing among wolves, one moment of weakness, and they would tear him apart without hesitation. 

A crushing sense of helplessness settled over him. He had nowhere to go, yet no path forward. 

All he could do was stand there, silent and alone, surrounded by strangers locked in a desperate struggle for survival. 

Ren turned away, his footsteps heavy as if shackled by an invisible weight. 

He couldn't stay here. The wary, piercing stares of the others made his skin crawl. 

Wandering through the old cobblestone streets, he trudged past rows of wooden houses, their windows dark and lifeless. 

From the few lit windows, faint golden light spilled onto the path, barely illuminating the way forward. 

Everything around him was eerily silent, the only sound the soft whisper of the wind slipping through wooden cracks. 

Ren pulled his cloak tighter around himself, but the cold came from more than just the night. 

It came from the loneliness that enveloped him. 

Cold… 

Ren was used to it. 

No matter which world he was in.