He held the dagger, feeling its perfect balance, seeing the swirling energies beneath its surface. A name came to him, fitting for both its appearance and what it represented to him—his first creation after awakening to his true abilities.

"Dawn's Memory," he said softly. The name felt right somehow, honoring both the new dawn that had failed to reset him and the memories he now preserved through each cycle.

[Item Named: Dawn's Memory]

[Name Confirmed and Bound]

"What shall we charge for such a piece?" Edric asked, admiring the finished dagger.

Cain considered. "One gold coin."

His father's eyes widened. "That's thousand times the cost of our finest beginner weapons."

"And worth every coin," Cain replied with confidence.

Edric couldn't argue with the assessment, though he seemed skeptical that any visitor to Woodhaven would pay such a sum. Nevertheless, they placed Dawn's Memory on a special display stand near the front of the shop, its shimmering blue-tinged metal immediately drawing attention compared to the basic iron weapons surrounding it.

As they positioned it, Cain was intrigued by another aspect of the unique quality—the ability to choose who the dagger could be linked to. Soul Binding, the system had called it. He wondered what exactly that entailed, but instinct told him it was a powerful feature, allowing the weapon to grow with its wielder in ways ordinary equipment could not.

Throughout the late afternoon, customers came and went. Most were newcomers, purchasing their first weapons with the meager starting funds available to them. A few noticed Dawn's Memory, admiring it with open wonder before regretfully moving on to more affordable options.

As evening approached, Cain decided to stretch his legs while his father handled the slower end-of-day business. "I'll walk through the village before dinner," he told Edric. "Perhaps visit Mother in the square."

His father nodded absently, focused on a transaction with a nervous level 1 mage seeking her first staff.

Outside, Woodhaven basked in the golden light of approaching sunset. The village was quieter now, many newcomers having ventured into the surrounding forests for their first quests, others gathered in the tavern to share experiences. Cain walked with purpose but without haste, enjoying the sensation of seeing the village through his enhanced perception.

Each building now displayed information when he focused on it:

[Village Bakery]

[Owner: Margareta]

[Services: Basic Food, Minor Stamina Recovery Items]

[Woodhaven Tavern]

[Owner: Barlin]

[Services: Rest, Information, Minor Quests]

The villagers themselves bore similar tags, with names and designations floating above their heads, visible only to his newly awakened senses. It was strange to see them this way—as pieces of a system rather than simply the neighbors and acquaintances he had known his entire life.

As he approached the northern section of the village, near the small orchard where apple trees grew in neat rows, a commotion caught his attention. Angry voices, one high and frightened, the other deeper and threatening.

Cain rounded a cottage to find a disturbing scene. A young male Adventurer—level 3, with the name "BloodSeeker" floating above his head in garish red—had cornered a village child against the orchard fence. The boy, no more than eight years old, clutched a small wooden toy as he cowered before the advancing Adventurer.

"I just want to see what happens," BloodSeeker was saying, a cruel eagerness in his voice as he drew a shortsword. "Do village brats have special animations when they die? Drop any good loot?"

The child, tears streaming down his face, pressed himself against the fence. "Please, sir, I've done nothing wrong. I'm just playing with my toy."

"I didn't say you did anything wrong," the Adventurer laughed. "I'm just curious. That's what this world is for, right? Exploring all the possibilities."

Cain felt a surge of rage unlike anything he had experienced before. This was beyond the casual dismissiveness most Adventurers displayed toward Natives. This was deliberate cruelty, a desire to harm simply because he could.

"Stop!" Cain called, striding forward with purpose. "Leave him alone."

BloodSeeker turned, irritation flickering across his face at the interruption. "Back off, native. This doesn't concern you."

"Thomas is a child of this village," Cain replied, placing himself between the Adventurer and the boy. "Under the protection of The Divine Laws."

"Protection," BloodSeeker scoffed. "That's a joke. The only 'protection' is the wasted experience points from killing low-value targets. But I'm willing to spend them for science." He raised his sword. "Now move, or you'll be my first experiment instead."

"Run home, Thomas," Cain told the boy without taking his eyes off the Adventurer. "Now."

The child needed no further encouragement, darting away with the speed born of terror. BloodSeeker snarled in frustration, then focused his anger on Cain.

"You cost me my test subject," he growled. "Guess you'll have to do instead."

He lunged forward, sword aimed at Cain's chest in a clumsy but dangerous thrust. Time seemed to slow as Cain watched the blade approach. In the past, his only options would have been to dodge or accept the injury, the Divine Laws preventing him from harming an Adventurer in return.

But he was different now. Recategorized. Anomalous.

With perfect clarity, Cain saw the Adventurer's poor form, the overextension of his thrust, the vulnerability it created. His body moved with the practiced precision of countless forge hammer swings, stepping smoothly inside the thrust and delivering a powerful blow directly to BloodSeeker's jaw.

Unlike his attempt against SlayerKing, there was no invisible force diverting his fist. No system limitation preventing contact. His knuckles connected with devastating impact, enhanced by strength stats he hadn't possessed before his transformation.

BloodSeeker's head snapped back with a sickening crack. The Adventurer crumpled instantly, his sword clattering to the ground as his body went limp. For a moment, he lay motionless on the dirt path, then his form began to shimmer with red light—the dissolution effect that preceded an Adventurer's resurrection at the shrine.

[Enemy Defeated: BloodSeeker Lv.3]

[Experience Gained: 0 - Enemy too weak to provide experience]

[Reputation with Woodhaven +10]

[Achievement: Guardian of the Innocent]

Cain stared at his fist in disbelief, then at the space where BloodSeeker had lain before dissolving completely. He had struck an Adventurer. Not by accident or circumstance as with SkulCrusher, but deliberately, with intent. The Divine Laws had not prevented him.

More significantly, the system had recognized the action not as a violation but as a legitimate combat victory, complete with reputation gain and an achievement notification.

The implications staggered him. He could fight back now. Protect himself, protect others. The fundamental imbalance that had defined relations between Natives and Adventurers—that one could harm while the other could only endure—no longer applied to him.

As BloodSeeker's sword faded from view, a small crowd began gathering at a distance, drawn by the commotion. Villagers watched with confusion, unable to fully comprehend what they had witnessed. A few Adventurers stood open-mouthed, having seen the impossible—a Native defeating one of their kind in direct combat.

"Did you see that?" one whispered to another. "The blacksmith's son just one-punched that guy."

"That's not supposed to be possible," the other replied. "Natives can't harm Adventurers. It's hardcoded."

"Well, this one just did."

Cain knew he should leave before more attention focused on him, before questions arose that he couldn't or shouldn't answer. He turned away from the murmuring crowd, walking with forced casualness toward the village square.

His mind raced with the implications of what had just occurred. The Divine Laws truly had recategorized him, granting him capabilities beyond those of normal Natives. He could harm Adventurers now—not that he desired violence, but the ability to defend himself and others changed everything.

As he walked, a new notification appeared in his vision:

[System Alert: Anomalous Behavior Detected]

[Monitoring Protocols Enhanced]

[Warning: Continued Violation of Expected Parameters May Result in System Intervention]

The warning gave him pause. Whatever freedom he had gained came with risks. The system—or whatever controlled it—was watching him, evaluating his actions against some unknown standard. He was walking a dangerous path, becoming something never intended to exist within the framework of their world.

Yet as he remembered the child's frightened face, the Adventurer's casual cruelty, Cain felt no regret. If his anomalous nature allowed him to protect those who couldn't protect themselves, then he would accept whatever risks came with it.