ZERO ONE: ONE HOPE!

Before him lay Sizzleburg—a village that looked like a fairytale for food lovers. Rows of houses with warm brick walls stood neatly, each topped with a chimney puffing out fragrant, tempting steam. Along the street, bustling small stalls billowed with smoke, serving dishes from giant pots and open grills that radiated the light and aroma of life.

Hariel stood frozen for a few seconds, completely overwhelmed. His head swiveled wildly from left to right, trying to process and track every source of fragrance dancing in the air—the savory scent of grilled meat from one direction, the sweetness of sautéed onions from another, and the rich aroma of broth that seemed to call his name.

As he stood there like a dazed person who had just discovered paradise, a calm, warm voice broke his confusion.

"Overwhelmed by our village's first welcome, young man?"

Hariel turned towards the source of the voice. Right beside the gate, under the shade of a large tree, he saw an old man sitting leisurely on a bench made from a large, smoothly varnished tree root. The old man wore a clean white apron and, with a small carving knife, was busy shaping a piece of wood into a beautiful spoon.

Seeing Hariel's confused look, the old man smiled. His eyes, though surrounded by the wrinkles of age, were clear and sharp, holding a glimmer of playful wit.

"I am, Gramps! This... this is insane!" Hariel answered honestly, gesturing enthusiastically in every direction. "Hey, Gramps, is it true the food here is amazing?"

The old man laughed, his laughter as crisp as fried chicken skin. "Hohoho... you've come to the right place. Sizzleburg never disappoints a hungry stomach. Enjoy your time here, son."

"Hehe... thanks a lot, Gramps!"

Without further ado, driven by the unbearable call of his stomach, Hariel broke into a light run, leaving the old man behind.

The old man simply smiled and shook his head, then watched Hariel's retreating back with a gaze that was more than just friendly. There was a deep glint of observation in it.

"An interesting spirit..." he murmured softly, before returning to his carving.

As he ventured deeper, Hariel felt like he was in the midst of a war of aromas.

His gaze, guided more by his nose than his eyes, finally locked onto a two-story building that looked the busiest.

The thickest and most fragrant smoke billowed from its chimney. A large wooden sign above it was carved with the artistic script "The Spicy Spoon."

"That's the place!" Hariel exclaimed. Without a second thought, he pushed open the tavern's heavy door and stepped inside.

The atmosphere immediately enveloped him: warm from the hearth and the cooking stoves in the open kitchen, lively with the sound of customers' laughter, and filled with a wave of culinary aromas that now felt a hundred times stronger.

The wooden tables were almost all full. Agile waiters rushed to and fro carrying silver trays of steaming plates.

Hariel managed to find one empty table near a window. Just as he sat down, a waitress with fiery red curly hair and chubby cheeks approached him with a friendly smile.

"Welcome to The Spicy Spoon, Young Man! What can I get for that empty stomach of yours?" she greeted cheerfully.

Hariel's eyes shone wildly as he looked at the menu on a large board. "I'll have... everything!"

The waitress burst out laughing. "Alright, alright! Your appetite is incredible! But, for a start, how about you try our signature dish? It's called 'Volcano Curry'!"

"'Volcano Curry'?" Hariel repeated, the name sounding like a worthy challenge.

"That's right!" the waitress explained enthusiastically. "A super-spicy curry rice with heat levels from 'smoldering ember' to 'dragon's eruption', drenched in a thick gravy filled with choice cuts of meat so tender it melts in your mouth! Guaranteed to keep you awake all day!"

"That sounds... like a dream come true!" Hariel exclaimed, his mouth already watering uncontrollably. "I'll have one of those! Give me the 'dragon's eruption' level, the spiciest one!"

"A very bold choice!" the waitress said, impressed. She then hurried off towards the kitchen.

While waiting, Hariel scanned the room. He saw farmers, merchants, mercenaries, and even a group of mysterious robed figures. This world... is truly vast, he thought in amazement. So many people with different life stories. I want to meet them all, hear their tales, and maybe... fight the strong ones among them!

His spirited daydream was cut short.

SLAM!!!

The sound of the tavern door being violently thrown open shattered the lively atmosphere. All conversation and laughter stopped. All eyes simultaneously turned to the door. A group of five scruffy-looking men with fierce faces strode in arrogantly.

"THIS IS A ROBBERY!" one of them, a skinny man with long hair, shouted.

"HAND OVER ALL YOUR MONEY AND YOUR TASTY FOOD, OR THESE PRETTY TOYS OF OURS WILL DO THE TALKING WITH YOUR GUTS!"

The leader of the bandits, who was stockier and had a gruesome scar on his cheek, laughed cruelly. The previously warm atmosphere turned tense in an instant.

Hariel, who had just been imagining how delicious his 'Volcano Curry' would be, let out a long, very annoyed sigh. "Why is there always some pest who shows up right when I'm about to eat something good?" he muttered, more irritated than afraid.

Casually, he stood up from his chair.

"Hey, you guys!" Hariel called out, his voice calm yet clear, drawing the attention of the five bandits. "If you're hungry, just sit down nicely and order properly. Don't cause a ruckus where people are trying to eat. It's rude, you know!"

The bandits were silent for a moment, then burst into mocking laughter in unison.

"Look at this, boys! A snot-nosed kid trying to play hero!" the scar-faced leader said, looking at Hariel with a condescending gaze. "Who are you, you punk? How dare you order the Doomsday Fang Gang around?"

Hariel smiled faintly. "My name is Hariel," he answered calmly. "And I really don't like people who ruin other people's meals."

"Oh, yeah? So what are you gonna do about it, you cocky little brat?" the bandit leader challenged, brandishing his large, rusty machete.

The smile on Hariel's face now widened. A smile so confident, so wide that his eyes narrowed. "I'm going to... teach you a little lesson about basic table manners."