The battle ended quickly, and the winner was decided in a single exchange.
Renard had been soundly defeated. If Bennett hadn't stopped Gilbert in time, he probably would have beaten Renard to a pulp.
His injuries were severe. His face was swollen and bruised, and he'd even had two ribs broken. Fortunately, medical care in this world was decent. After a Priest cast Holy Light Spell on him twice, his chest didn't hurt as much as it had at first.
Although his body no longer hurt, his heart did. "Young Master Renard, the bandages and medicine, along with the treatment from the Holy Light Spell, come to ten silver coins in total."
Looking at the white-robed Priest's beaming smile, Renard wanted nothing more than to slap him twice, once on each cheek.
But considering the terrible consequences of offending the church, he managed to suppress the urge. Reluctantly, he took out ten silver coins and handed them over.
Only after the Priest left the bedroom with a cheerful smile did Renard drop his false one and slam the door shut.
The door boomed. The tremendous recoil from the door panel made Renard's chest hurt even more. "Hiss! Damn system, why didn't you tell me that little bastard was so strong?"
"Apologies. This system has no obligation to inform you."
"I'm your host!"
"This system has no objections to that."
Renard was speechless. He lay on the bed, seething with resentment. Damn little punk, how dare you hit me? Just wait until I recover. I'll settle the score with you...
Over the next few days, the residents of Saint Brieuc Fortress were astonished to discover that their notorious young master had changed his ways. He hadn't come around to bother them for several days.
According to the castle servants, the young master had grown afraid of divine punishment, so he was staying home and didn't dare to come out.
After hearing this, the residents' opinions of the gods changed once again. They began praying quietly, hoping the young master would never come out again, and bought a large number of indulgences from the church to atone for their offense against the gods.
Renard knew nothing about this. He was still doing his best to enjoy life, because he knew his good days were probably numbered.
It wasn't that he believed he was destined to save the world and wanted to venture out to punish evil. Rather, he'd suddenly received a system notification the previous night.
"Host has successfully created a character. The system has forcibly initiated a countdown of 1,095 days. If the host's body is unable to withstand the strain when the countdown ends, the host will die."
With a cigar in his mouth, Renard stared blankly out the window, privately calculating that he had only three years left to live.
He suddenly felt like crying, and began to miss his life as a gaming otaku. Unfortunately, there was no going back.
Not only had the system exiled him to this miserable place, it had also started a countdown to his death. "System, I hope you bought a watch with that money."
System: "According to the retrieved memories, you're so broke you couldn't afford a watch."
"..."
Too lazy to argue with the system, Renard opened the interface in his mind, clinging to his last hope. His cigar promptly fell to the ground, scattering sparks.
"Mission system activated successfully!"
"Slaughter Mission: Kill one hundred goblins. Reward: one potential point. Progress: 0%."
"Slaughter Mission: Kill one hundred hobgoblins. Reward: one potential point. Progress: 0%."
"Slaughter Mission: Kill ten bugbears. Reward: one potential point. Progress: 0%."
"..."
"Bounty Mission: Find Madam Tamara's lost pet. Reward: twenty dinars."
"Bounty Mission: Help the tenant farmers in your territory survive the cold winter. Reward: fifty dinars."
"Bounty Mission: Find Mr. Wilson's stolen Medal of Merit. Reward: fifty dinars and one random draw."
"..."
"Triggered Mission: Defeat Gilbert. Reward: ten potential points, five hundred dinars, and one random draw."
Renard stared blankly for a long moment, then picked up his cigar and lit it again. He turned to Selina, who was standing nearby. "Selina, tell the lackeys to assemble."
Selina, who was making tea, looked surprised. But she didn't ask any questions and went to summon the lackeys as ordered.
For days, Renard's lackeys had been in a state of constant dread, afraid their master might suddenly kick the bucket. If that happened, they would be in serious trouble.
After agonizing over it for days, they'd finally received good news that morning: their master had regained consciousness and was summoning them to the castle to discuss important business.
The lackeys were naturally overjoyed. They rushed to assemble without even having time for breakfast.
"Excellent. Everyone's here." With a cigar in his mouth, Renard gazed at his eight subordinates, who stood before him bowing and scraping. His expression was full of satisfaction.
He casually flicked away some ash, then spoke in a low voice, like a crime boss in a TV show. "There are a few things I need your help with..."
Before he could finish, the lackeys erupted into a clamor. A short, chubby young man was the loudest of them all. "Young Master Renard, just tell us what you need. No need to ask for our help. We're practically family!"
Another young man, tall and thin, chimed in. "Exactly! Whatever concerns Young Master Renard concerns us. Asking for our help makes it sound like we're strangers."
Renard gave a couple of dry coughs, then praised them without hesitation. "Good! You two put it very well. I can feel your loyalty."
The two immediately straightened up. They looked at the others with triumphant expressions, as if to say, See? You were too late with your flattery!
Renard couldn't be bothered with the infighting among his lackeys and got straight to the point. "What I need you to do is simple. I heard Mr. Wilson lost his family heirloom, the Medal of Merit. Please help him find it. I'm sure such a small task won't be beyond you, will it?"
The others exchanged glances. After a brief pause, the chubby young man asked curiously, "Young Master, aren't you on bad terms with Mr. Wilson? Why help him look for something?"
The others had the same question. They all waited for an answer with strange expressions.
"Can't I try to improve our relationship?" Renard glared at him. Should I tell you about the system? You lowly natives wouldn't understand anyway.
The thought inexplicably cheered him up. At last, he'd met someone even stupider than himself!
"Improve your relationship?" The lackeys looked thoughtful. The tall, thin young man slapped his thigh and said excitedly, "Exactly! If we bring Mr. Wilson over to our side, that bastard Gilbert won't be able to swagger around anymore."
Renard smacked his lips, deciding there was no point explaining anything to these country bumpkins. So he went along with the man's idea. "Yes, you're very clever. Extremely clever."
Before you continue