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A Weakling Who Died a Million Times - Chapter 3.1
🕑 Added 2024-11-13 08:08:59 +0000 UTCYear 133_Keireki Era Summer/00~Year 133_Keireki Era Summer/01
Yo.
I’m a bandit.
A bandit with no past memories—a nobody, no shame in that.
Not that I don’t remember anything—but roughly every tenth time I respawn, I forget the events before it.
Whether it’s a memory limit or just how it works, I have no clue.
Most of the time, remembering stuff is pointless, and I doubt I had memories worth holding onto.
Still, certain crucial skills or techniques tend to stick.
For example, just something useful enough for right now.
I’m shackled with ankle cuffs and a rope around my waist, all chained up and locked.
A real nuisance.
Looks like I got on the boss’s bad side here.
The reason’s beyond stupid, so I’ll spare you the details.
But even if this body didn’t have the skill, I do. Thanks to respawning, my old abilities now fill this body.
There’s a few metal scraps lying around, just enough to fashion a thin, needle-like piece.
If I work this into the lock… just a little jiggle here… there…
Click.
Got it.
Success.
So, even though I don’t know when I picked up this skill, it seems my soul retains whatever it finds useful.
Now, let’s see how far I can get out of here.
This place is an abandoned fortress.
I remember that a sizable town isn’t far off, and that we used to target rookie caravans and merchants too cheap to pay for guards.
In this world, the more experience you gather, the stronger you get.
Even a basic thug can reach third-rate strength with enough practice.
Our boss is that type.
If he fought fairly, he’d put up a decent fight against a low-to-mid-level adventurer.
But hey, even if he’s tough, so what?
“Hey, I didn’t know you could pick locks. So, that’s how you managed to get into my stash, huh? Must’ve been one sturdy lock on my chest if it’s empty and still shut, right?!”
“Boss, that’s a misunderstanding. That money, you blew on booze and women.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me that?!”
“Because you never listen, ahhh—”
My head got smashed by the boss’s hammer.
No matter how useful my skills are, somehow, they don’t include getting any stronger.
Man, if only there were more skills to choose from or I could just pick them, things would be easier.
I’d leave this bandit life in a flash.
As my life flickers away, I wonder about something entirely different.
What would it take to feel fulfilled in this endless cycle of lives?
Maybe if I lived a long life, I’d end up with different options someday.
But that thought’s useless for now.
This life is truly over.
Well then, next—
───────────────────────
Yo.
I’m a bandit.
Why do I use the same greeting every time?
Because if I set a phrase to say as soon as I’m aware again, then I’ll know right away that I’ve respawned.
And this time, the situation’s pretty rare.
Everyone around me was dead.
Looks like I got lucky and survived.
A lone bandit doesn’t usually live long.
If you try to go solo, your own former crew might rat you out and get you killed.
If you’re on the road, adventurers might see you as free practice and kill you.
Or patrolling knights will catch and kill you.
The bottom line: being a bandit means you’re a target. No one needs a reason to kill you.
So we hide, committing our crimes while dodging guards.
This time, though, I’m pretty lucky. This almost never happens.
First off, my snitch-happy buddies are all dead. Serves them right!
Since I’m close to a big town, maybe I won’t get killed as random practice target…
Even adventurers don’t usually go around killing people on the main road without cause or contract—they might end up detaining me for hours or days, which hits their wallet hard.
… Although, considering how I look, those knights on patrol might ignore my murder entirely—but let’s ignore that thought.
It’d be a waste to let this chance slip.
I’m free to roam. Preferably, without getting killed!
Looting anything useful from the bodies, I stayed alerted and headed towards the big town at a brisk pace.
Next: https://www.patreon.com/posts/115907236
