"I'm rich as hell," Lucian muttered again, holding the gold like it was made of warmth itself.
Then he paused. His grin twitched, just slightly. "But if word gets out... I'm a dead man walking."
This was Dai-Kuni, after all—the Flowery Continent's most militant country.
Their Royal Samurai weren't polite knights or law-abiding sentinels.
They were trained to move like wind and strike like gods, and if the wrong people thought 'Amon' had come across an untraceable fortune, then it wouldn't matter how charming he was.
A coin pouch could become a body bag real quick.
Keep it small.
Still, his stomach was louder than his paranoia, and his pride felt oddly tender after Mugi's cabbage slap, so he needed a small gesture.
Something nice.
He slipped outside with a hidden grin.
A few markets later, he returned to Mugi's doorstep and left a full basket—clean vegetables, wrapped pork belly, and a small bag of tea leaves tied to the handle with a crimson string.
No name attached and no note. But Mugi would know. And if he didn't, he'd still eat well.
Then, without hesitation, Lucian treated himself. He ducked into The Yellow Grill, one of Blue Petal's more popular eateries. Wooden walls, steamed rice bowls floating past, and more sizzling meat than a war camp.
He slid into a corner booth and ordered enough food to scare a horse.
Three bowls in, voices caught his attention.
"I swear, she awakened a Talent yesterday. Flames were summoned from her fingers, and then boom."
"Talent? It's what you get when you're born, right?"
"Right. It's like... if classes are what you train in, and Principles are how you believe, then Talents are what you are."
Lucian pretended not to listen, but his eyes narrowed. So, Principles guide your path, Classes give you tools... and Talents are what you get when you enter this world. The world shapes the Talent—not you?
He leaned back.
It actually made sense. Talents didn't overcomplicate anything; they completed the picture.
A swordsman could be devoted by Principle, a Knight by Class, and yet still have a Talent to resist flame, just because he survived a burning battlefield at ten.
All three could work in tandem.
But then his thoughts hit a wall—hard.
Wait. I'm inside the body of an untalented, middle-aged man with zero training, zero background, and zero class. Does that mean... I can't awaken anything unless the world gives me a reason?
He tapped the table slowly. That 40-year-old man from the profile—the one the system threw him into—had nothing.
Shaved beard, homeless, and now forgotten. I might really be at the bottom now...
After finishing his meal, Lucian didn't return to the inn. He drifted to the east street where the city's training ground was open to spectators.
There, beneath the soft glow of lanterns, two samurai clashed in a slow, ceremonial duel.
Lucian stood in silence. This was their way of coping, wasn't it? The sword wasn't a tool—it was how they processed pain.
And maybe... he needed something like that too.
He stood there for a while, arms folded.
The match ended with an off-beat stumble.
One of the samurai, the older one, lost balance mid-step and toppled onto his back with a grunt.
His opponent stopped short—blade raised, but the fallen man lifted a hand and chuckled.
"Ahh, give me a break. I missed breakfast and my soul, apparently."
A few people in the crowd laughed, but it didn't feel right.
The man on the ground kept talking.
"Besides, isn't this whole duel thing just for sport? We're not at war anymore, are we?"
The standing samurai didn't speak. He lowered his blade slowly—then changed his grip.
"No, wait. I yield—hey, I said I yield, idiot!"
And then the blade fell.
There was no honor in that kill. It wasn't about victory. It was about control.
Then the killer turned around—and someone near the front called out.
"That wasn't right! He yielded!"
"You can't just kill someone over a joke!"
The samurai said nothing. He just lifted his blade again—and swung it sideways into the nearest voice.
It happened in a blink. The man who'd spoken dropped like stone. Then chaos began.
More people shouted.
Some tried to drag the killer back. Others ran.
But the samurai didn't stop swinging. And when other armored figures leapt into the pit to back him up, it wasn't to restrain him.
It was to eliminate dissent.
The other samurai, loyal to their own, began moving through the crowd—not chasing individuals, but scattering the weak.
"They're treating this like a battlefield... for a duel?"
"No, this is standard," someone hissed. "It's how Dai-Kuni works. You question an elite in public, you're an example."
"But that wasn't—he didn't even—"
"Shut up and get down unless you want to be next!"
Lucian didn't move right away. Not out of fear—but because it all made sense.
This was the problem with a country built around order through dominance.
The moment someone in uniform acted out of bounds, the system would rather erase witnesses than admit fault.
So this is the heart of Dai-Kuni.
Then one of the samurai turned toward him.
Lucian didn't have a blade. But he couldn't stand still either—not after watching how quickly peace turned into a purge.
He stepped forward.
The samurai didn't hesitate. Lucian barely made it halfway through his approach before the sword pierced through him cleanly.
And everything stopped.
---
Death wasn't surprising. But what mattered wasn't the pain. It was what he learned.
If I want to change anything here... I'll need more than strength or kindness.
Lucian woke up again in the same position.
He looked around and saw the duel was just starting again.
The older samurai had just tripped slightly. They were back right before the situation spiraled.
If this keeps going the same way, that guy's getting executed again... and the whole plaza turns into a bloodbath.
So, without thinking too hard about it, he stood up, climbed onto the wooden crate behind the crowd—and raised both arms in the dumbest, most exaggerated pose he could think of.
"YAAH! SPIRIT CRANE STYLE, UNDEFEATED IN NINE REGIONS!"
Heads turned, not because of respect, but because he looked like a lunatic.
Then, miraculously, the old samurai blinked, looked up at him... and mimicked the exact same ridiculous stance.
And just like that, both of them were cut down at once.
---
Lucian opened his eyes again.
Yep.
His body ached, but not from pain. From irritation.
He wasn't in a Death Loop anymore—just on his third death with his ability to go back every time he dies.
So he took a deep breath and did what always worked in power-hungry kingdoms.
He weaponized money.
"Hey, I'm giving you, the younger one—ten gold coins if you win!"
That got attention. Even the young samurai raised a brow mid-stance.
The old one looked confused. "What's this, bribery?"
Lucian shrugged and jingled the pouch. "Bribery, encouragement, call it what you want. Ten gold if you end this quick."
No one stopped him. Because gold talks louder than law.
And so, without hesitation, the younger samurai adjusted his stance, focused properly—and in the next second, the duel ended with a single clean blow.
The old samurai slumped.
The victor approached. But Lucian didn't waste time.
"Don't kill him!" Lucian shouted. "I'll add five gold coins if he walks away!"
The young man paused, looked over... and lowered the blade.
There was a brief silence. The crowd didn't cheer or clap. They just stared, trying to decide what they'd just seen.
And Lucian exhaled.
Plan succeed.
He handed the coin purses off to a guard who looked too stunned to protest. Then slipped away from the edge of the crowd.
---
He spent the entire evening inside the bamboo forest near the town's edge, far enough from the tavern to avoid noise, but close enough to return before midnight.
Principles don't need those. They just need consistency... and clarity.
He dropped to his knees and closed his eyes. The kind that didn't wait for you. The kind you had to earn. He focused not on breath or body, but the why. Why was he swinging? Why was he here?
To gain knowledge. To prepare for future lives. To protect her—eventually.
Then, a voice cut through the bamboo.
"YoooOOOOU swing like my aunt kneads rice dough, and she's been dead for six years!"
Lucian blinked. "Oh no... it's the guy."
The old samurai limped into view, grinning.
"You meditate like a constipated monk! That's not a warrior's face!"
Lucian gave him a blank stare. "You got brain damage from that duel, didn't you?"
The man pointed proudly. "I'll have you know I was born brain damaged. Name's Zai-Ren, first of his name, slayer of insects, bamboos, and attractor of women!"
Lucian sighed. "Name's Amon. Sit down."
Zai-Ren sat. Then promptly stood again and jabbed at Lucian's posture.
"You're holding your chi wrong. No girl's gonna fall for a man whose spirit leaks out his knees!"
"You're leaking more than spirit. That's just arthritis."
They argued for two hours straight. Then sparred without purpose. Then sparred with purpose.
Then trained, debated, meditated again, and finally—when their arms felt like cooked noodles—they limped back to town.
Zai-Ren looked smug the entire way. "Bet you didn't know pain makes you taller. That's why I'm six foot two in my dreams!"
Lucian rolled his eyes.
When they entered, the receptionist just stared as two half-broken samurai wobbled past her desk.
Zai-Ren winked at her.
She ignored him like a master.
They argued about whether soup was a weapon or a drink. Then passed out mid-rant in their shared room.
---
Lucian woke before dawn. The room still stank of sweat and ego.
He quietly dressed, stepped down into the inn's lobby... and froze.
Standing at the front desk was a man with dual katanas, an eye-patch on each eye, and a cloak made of bright red silk embroidered with—of course—flames.
"You," the man said, pointing. "Challenge me to a duel."
Lucian blinked. "What? Why?"
"Because last night, someone called me maidenless here. My senses say it was you!"
Lucian opened his mouth to argue. Then, of course, the system lit up.
[Side Quest Available]
[Defeat The Infamous Two-Headed Flame Dragon User]
[Death Limit: 50]
Fifty deaths... just for one guy? Why does everyone in this kingdom act like the main character?
He exhaled slowly, cracked his knuckles, and smiled.
"I will."