Reborn with A Simulation Coin!

Inside Sentra City, the air buzzed with the sounds of merchants hawking their wares and customers bargaining for the best deals.

At a bustling stall, a customer approached, glancing around before leaning in. "How much for this one?" He gestured to a fresh goat carcass hanging nearby, its fur gleaming in the morning light.

"Five silver coins," came the reply from a young man at the stall, who didn't even bother to look up, his focus solely on arranging the items before him.

The customer blinked in surprise. "Just five silver coins for such a big goat? Are you serious?"

"Dead serious," the young man replied, now glancing up with a smirk. "Get it while you can."

With a mix of disbelief and excitement, the shopper quickly handed over the coins. The usual price for a goat of this size would be eight silver coins, making this a steal. "Next time you get something good, send someone to let me know," he called as he took the goat away, satisfaction radiating from him.

"Sure thing," Harry said, his voice flat as he waved goodbye, already looking forward to the next customer.

As word spread, more buyers began to gather. By noon, the stall was a hive of activity, each customer eager to snag Harry's high-quality goods at prices 20 to 30% lower than elsewhere.

After selling out, Harry counted his coins, a sense of accomplishment washing over him. He turned away from the bustling market and made his way back to the village, where the familiar sights welcomed him.

But there was a heaviness in his heart. The house where Jabari had lived was now empty. His mother, who had fought illness for months, had passed away six months ago. Despite his efforts and the money he had earned, there had been no way to save her.

In this world, with its lack of modern medicine and limited remedies, many ailments remained untreatable. Harry had done his best, yet the outcome had been irreversible. He had buried her with dignity, but the loss lingered like a shadow.

Choosing to stay hidden, he remained in the village for a while longer. That evening, under a sky dotted with stars, he ventured out alone. The village was quiet, most people long asleep.

Standing in the stillness, Harry felt a familiar energy stirring within him. He took a deep breath and began to practice, the Knight's Aura flowing through his body. For two hours, he pushed himself, sweat beading on his forehead as he trained diligently.

Finally, he halted, panting for breath. "Not even close," he muttered to himself, frustration creeping in.

His strength had grown considerably over the past five years, surpassing that of his previous body. But the path to becoming a true knight was long and arduous. He was still in the apprenticeship stage, striving to master the skills that would elevate him to greatness.

With renewed determination, he vowed to keep pushing forward, knowing that every effort would bring him one step closer to his goal.

After five years of relentless training, Harry felt he was on the brink of a significant breakthrough. In fact, among apprentices, he was considered quite accomplished. Yet, without any peers to compare himself to, he found it difficult to gauge his true level.

Reflecting on his original body, he recalled how, despite having mastered the Knight's Aura, he had only just scraped the surface of apprenticeship, far from the skilled practitioner he had become. To reach this point in just five years was remarkable; in the world of Dawn, such talent would certainly indicate potential for knighthood.

But now, frustration crept in. "My progress is slowing," he mused, his brow furrowing in thought. "In two or three years at most, I'll hit a plateau. Then I'll have to leave this place and seek new opportunities."

As time wore on, he could sense his advancement tapering off. At the rate he was going, reaching the level of a knight's apprentice was imminent, but anything beyond that seemed uncertain. The harsh reality was that without the right resources, his growth would stall.

The thought nagged at him: he didn't possess the full Knight's Aura Technique. While he had learned the fundamentals, they were incomplete. The reason was painfully clear: in his previous life, his lackluster knightly talent had barred him from inheriting the complete technique. Such knowledge was fiercely protected within noble families, reserved for those deemed worthy.

With a heavy sigh, he pondered, "I need to explore other options. There must be different Knight Aura Techniques in this world." He glanced skyward, contemplating the vast possibilities that lay ahead.

When he had traveled through the Simulation Coin, he had carefully chosen a world where the Knight's Aura was prevalent, hoping to one day find a complete Technique. That goal seemed distant now, but with two or three years ahead of him, he felt he had the time to explore.

However, life often throws curveballs when least expected.

Late one night, a faint rustling noise jolted Harry from his deep slumber. He blinked awake, instincts kicking in as he scanned his surroundings. Years of encounters with wild beasts and narrow escapes from local lords' guards had honed his vigilance; he rarely fell into a deep sleep, always alert to his environment.

This time, the sound was different. He initially assumed it was just another wild animal wandering through the village, but a gnawing sense of unease took hold. He slipped out of bed, moving quietly toward the window to get a better look.

As he peered outside, the shadows danced under the moonlight, revealing a figure lurking just beyond the treeline. Heart racing, Harry knew he had to act quickly. What if it was more than just a passing creature? What if it was something that could threaten his newfound progress?

This was not an uncommon scene in Harry's life over the past few years, but tonight felt different.

As he peered through the window, his heart sank at the sight before him. Flames flickered ominously, casting shadows across the familiar village that had been his home. The air was thick with smoke and chaos, as a band of foreign raiders unleashed havoc, burning buildings and screaming for blood.

Harry's stomach churned as he took in the terrifying reality: the village was under siege. He could hear the anguished cries of women and children mingling with the desperate shouts of men trying to defend their homes, but they were hopelessly outmatched.

"What in the world is happening?" he muttered, his brow furrowing in concern. This village, located on the outskirts of Center City, was usually a quiet place. Bandit attacks were rare; the lord's guards ensured that any trouble was swiftly dealt with. But now, an overwhelming force had descended upon them; likely bandits from far away, drawn by some unknown purpose.

Why would they come all this way for a simple village with nothing of value? Harry's mind raced, weighing the absurdity of the situation. He knew every inch of this place: the fields were barren, the huts modest, and there was little to plunder.

Without wasting another moment, he sprang from his bed, hurriedly gathering what little belongings he had left. Following his mother's death six months ago, he had been preparing for a potential escape, stashing essential tools and personal items away in anticipation of trouble.

"I can't stay here and die with them," he resolved. The sounds of chaos outside grew louder, punctuated by the occasional clash of metal. The bandits numbered close to a hundred, an overwhelming force that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Fighting them would be a death wish.

Just as he was about to slip out the door, it suddenly rattled violently. With a loud crash, a bandit broke in, his face twisted into a malicious grin, brandishing a knife. "What do we have here?" he sneered, rushing toward Harry with a reckless abandon.

In a heartbeat, Harry reacted, drawing his sword with a calm precision that surprised even him. The two blades met with a sharp clang, the sound echoing in the small room. Underneath the thief's incredulous stare, Harry thrust his sword forward, slicing cleanly through the air and severing the bandit's head in one swift motion.

The thief collapsed in silence, and Harry stood still for a moment, breathless, his heart racing. He glanced at the body, his expression unreadable. It was an instinctive kill, one he had not anticipated needing to make tonight.

But then, an unusual sensation prickled at the edges of his consciousness. He felt a familiar tug within him, the boundary-crossing stone was awakening.

Curious, he looked down at himself. The energy within surged, number now reading: Energy: 3.

"What?" he murmured, bewildered by the sudden response. What could this mean in the midst of chaos?