TCOB: CHAPTER FIVE

Don’t worry Clyde, the priest can fix you. I hope…

Longboat village of Loue Province

Ashcol Duchy,

Eris - Ethania.

…

"...WTF?" Clyde muttered in disbelief. His eyes were opened exaggeratingly as he stared at the screen floating in his vision. The transmigrator probed the screen only to see his fingers pass through it like it was an illusion.

Clyde blinked, then panicked as he realised the screen had disappeared. Upon impulse, he shot up from his seat at the edge of the lumpy mattress to look for the missing status screen.

It took about three seconds before Clyde could calm down.

"S-system…" he called hesitantly.

"..."

"Status?" he called again to which the screen reappeared. Clyde let out a sigh which he had unknowingly held.

He blinked and the screen disappeared. "Status!" he called immediately, causing the screen to reappear. Clyde stared at it for several moments before a thought suddenly crossed his mind.

Blinking, he caused the screen to disappear once more. 'Status?' he thought probingly. The screen reappeared, and with another thought, he willed the screen to disappear.

"..."

"...Is this real?" he muttered to himself in doubt before recalling the screen. This time rather than just dismissing it right away, he read through the information displayed.

|Status|

Host Name: Clyde

Race: Human(Otherworldly)

Skeletal Age: 19

Gender: Male

Titles: N/A

Divinity: 0.2/????

Class: Commoner(Peasant Farmer[Novice])

Lvl: 2/10

XP: 87/100

Base attributes:

HP: 91/100

MP: 7.9/7.9

STA: 120/123

STATS:

STR:13.2

AGI: 11.1

DEX: 12.1

INT: 49.7

DEF: 1(+0.5: FEET)

PRE: 15

CHA: 20.3(-4)(-0.4)(-0.4)(-0.2)

Class Skills:

~ Commoner(Peasant Farmer)

Farming - Lvl 8

Foraging - Lvl 7

Hunting - Lvl 4

Fishing - Lvl 4

Basic Crafting - Lvl 5

Basic Culinary - Lvl 4

Class Attributes:

~ Commoner(Peasant Farmer)

Hunger Resistance - Hunger status is delayed for 36 hours after a full meal. Continuous activation of attribute for more than two weeks without three days of satiation in between will trigger the Starvation Status(All stats will drop at a rate of 20% per every three-and-a-half days until status is lifted.

Hardy Folk - Stamina drain is reduced by 20% once Stamina drops below 50%. This attribute is stackable with other attributes or buffs with similar effect.

Class Penalties:

CHA: -4

Items:

Coarse cotton shirt: Aerates the body. Provides decency. +0.1% heat resistance. -0.4 CHA. Conditions of Use; None. Durability; 0.8/1. Weight; 1. Special effect; None.

Coarse cotton hoses: Aerates the body. Provides decency. +0.1% heat resistance. -0.4 CHA. Conditions of Use; None. Durability; 0.7/1. Weight; 1. Special effect; None.

Crude leather sandals: Aerates the body. Provides protection to feet. +0.1% heat resistance. +0.5 DEF: FEET. -0.2 CHA. Conditions of Use; None. Durability; 0.5/1. Weight; 1. Special effect; None.

Crude leather pouch[Storage]: 12 iron coins. Three large walnuts(consumable). A smooth pebble. Conditions of Use; None. Durability; 1/1. Weight; 0.2. Special effect; None.

Equipment: None

Inventory: (EMPTY)

|END|

Clyde sighed as he rubbed his brow in dread. Hesitantly, he reached into his 'coarse cotton shirt' to pull out a leather pouch hanging from a string of hemp looped around his neck. Clyde sighed again as flipped out the contents from the pouch onto the work table by the bed.

"...Exactly twelve coins, three walnuts and a pebble," he muttered gloomily. Unlike what others might expect, Clyde wasn't elated in the slightest. In fact, one could say he was royally pissed off.

"Is this what I am forced to trade over twenty years of my life's work for? A handful of coins, walnuts and a pebble? And what is with this stupid class? A peasant farmer? A novice one at that? Why don't you just make me a fucking serf then, you motherfucker!"

[You have cursed the system | You have received bad karma]

[Life will become hard for you…]

[Status cannot be lifted until rendered invalid | Status will remain valid until you repent]

"..."

Clyde stared at the prompts flashing at the corner of his vision. His left eye twitched in rage. "Bullshit!" he spat. But just as he was about to utter another string of curses, he felt a disgusting chill run down his spine.

His hair stood on end as if some twisted pervert was breathing down his neck. The feeling reminded him of a story he once heard in high school, one about an obese, homosexual rapist/sumo wrestler going by the name Da Dong. A young Clyde had suffered one too many nightmares after that unfortunate tale.

Suddenly realising the cozy hut had grown too stuffy for his tastes, Clyde fled―erm, vacated the building for a breath of fresh air.

Standing by the livestock pen outside, Clyde stared at the hut as a thought crossed his mind.

...But what if this is not real? he asked himself in doubt. Everything he had seen since he had awoken only reinforced this thought, but his rational mind forced him to consider otherwise.

I could be hallucinating… Clyde thought before shaking his head in denial.

It can't be that, he muttered, running his hands over the weathered trunk of the apple tree by the pen. Everything is too detailed to be a hallucination. So, this is real?

He stared at the tree in doubt. Then a thought suddenly crossed his mind. His pupils narrowed as he pulled back his fist to strike the tree.

Peng!

[You have dealt 17.9 base damage | You have inflicted 0.2 effective damage]

[Target has resisted]

Clyde's face flushed red as he held onto his bruised fist. "That was stupid," he admitted in pain, "Ow…"

Leaning into the tree as he caressed his hurting fist, Clyde stared intently at the prompt in the corner of his vision. This shouldn't be real… but is it?

He sighed again before straightening his posture to face the twilight at the edge of the horizon.

"What else can I do?" he asked himself with a sigh. "I guess this is my life now."

"..."

In that solemn silence, Clyde sighed again.

He resolved the last dregs of unease in his heart. A light of undying tenacity began to fester in his gaze. It was then he determined in his heart, to not only survive―despite falling from prominence to unimaginable depths―but to thrive in whatever it is this bullshit he suddenly found himself in.

But just as Clyde began to reinforce his newfound resolve in a bid to retain what was left of his sanity, he heard the shuffling of multiple footsteps behind him. Turning around, he sees Lorin leading a group of four men dressed in leather armour toward him.

Clyde began raising his hands in greeting but froze as Lorin let out a shout.

"That's him!" the burly peasant declared, pointing an accusing finger at Clyde.

"Huh?" Clyde made a sound of confusion with his hand frozen mid-wave. Too shocked to move, Clyde could only watch as the four armed men jogged up to him before tackling him to the ground and tying him up with a length of hemp.

"What's happening?" Clyde asked Lorin, baffled. He wanted to be angry but was too confused to act on the thought.

Lorin just stared at him with a pitying gaze before resting a palm on Clyde's shoulder.

"It's going to be alright, brother. Believe in me!"

"...Hands of the merchandise, you fucking plebian!" Clyde finally snapped, releasing all his repressed resentment as he thrashed against his restraints. "Fuck you! Who is your brother? Do you know who I am? I am Senior Inspector Clyde Kim Seong-ho of the Korean police force! My kid brother is the CEO of Silver Moon Conglomerates! Release me this instant, you bastard!"

Lorin just stared at him as he gave an understanding nod.

"Don't worry Clyde," he said as an errant tear ran down his face, "the Priest can fix you… I hope."