The only light in the inn's storeroom came from the pale, cold points burning in the sockets of [Skeletal Servant Alpha] and [Skeletal Servant Gamma], his motionless sentinels. Alpha stood guard near the passage to the barricaded main hall, while Gamma watched the storeroom's own door. Outside, the Jusgard night was a cloak of darkness and silence, broken only by distant, indecipherable sounds the breeze carried from the village ruins or the forest beyond.
Corbin held the old diary, its worn leather cover cold in his hands. Despite the weariness weighing down his newly inhabited body and the persistent fog of the [Reincarnation Trauma], a feverish curiosity drove him. This book might hold answers.
He activated [Analyze (Level 1)] again, this time focusing specifically on the faded handwriting of the first visible pages.
[Personal Diary (Worn Leather Cover)] [Language: Common Valerion (Human).] [Partial Translation Capacity (System): Activated.] [Estimated Accuracy: 15%.]
"Fifteen percent," Corbin muttered, a trace of his old sarcasm tinging his voice, which still sounded strange. "Generous as always, oh [System] of divinely incomplete wishes."
He brought the diary closer to the faint light emitted by one of his servants and began the arduous task of deciphering the text. The words danced, many illegible, others mere fragments. After a time that felt like an eternity, with his concentration constantly failing, he managed to extract only a few short, disconnected words and phrases that repeated or stood out:
"...shadows in the forest..." "...constant fear..." "...the tithes... too heavy..." "...they came during the night... screams..." "...defenses... useless..." "...fire and... claws..." "...strange symbol... before..."
He rubbed his temples. They were crumbs, almost nothing.
[AI: To improve the translation capability of [Common Valerion], the [System] requires an additional text sample in this language. Accuracy will increase with more analyzed data.] The notification appeared on his interface, cold and functional.
"Damn, I can barely read anything!" Corbin grumbled, closing the diary in frustration. "Another 'incomplete' thing from this God... I need more texts, more books, so this [System] or the [AI] can actually be useful for something beyond stats and summoning a pair of creaking bones."
Despite the difficulty, he knew the diary was too important to be left behind. He held it tight. His gaze then fell upon the [Small Wooden Chest (Locked)] resting in a corner of the storeroom. It remained an unopened mystery, its contents unknown, another puzzle awaiting a solution. If he started collecting things, he would need a way to carry them. The [Inventory] tab in his [System] seemed inactive or displayed a ridiculously small capacity.
"I need a bag, a sack, anything," he thought. "And I need a functional [Inventory] skill as soon as possible. Next level, that will be the priority, no doubt."
With this resolution, and knowing there was little more he could do in the darkness and with his mind still so affected, Corbin decided to try some form of rest. He ordered Alpha and Gamma to maintain absolute vigilance. He curled up in a corner, using a piece of dirty canvas he found to minimally protect himself from the cold stone floor.
Sleep did not come easily. The [Reincarnation Trauma] left his mind agitated. Every creak of the old inn, every distant howl of the wind, made him tense.
The hours dragged on. Sometime during the long vigil, a system notification appeared:
[Debuff: "Reincarnation Trauma" expired. Concentration and mental stress resistance returning to normal.] Corbin felt an almost imperceptible lightness in his mind, a clarity he hadn't experienced since waking up in this world.
Finally, the first gray rays of Jusgard's dawn began to filter through the barred window. The night had passed without major incidents. Corbin stretched, the bones of the villager's body creaking in protest. And then, a new and pressing sensation hit him, one he had barely noticed amidst the turmoil of the previous day: a thirst scratching his throat and an uncomfortable emptiness in his stomach.
"Hunger... and thirst," he realized, almost surprised. "With everything that happened yesterday, my body is only now reminding me of its basic needs."
The [Newly Inhabited Body] debuff would still be active for a few more hours, limiting his [HP] recovery, but his mind was clearer. His skeletal servants remained motionless, their points of ocular light fixed on their posts.
He had a plan, albeit rudimentary, for the first hours of the day:
Find something, anything, that could serve as an improvised bag or backpack. Attempt to find a way to open the [Small Wooden Chest (Locked)] he already possessed, or at least search the immediate surroundings for any rudimentary tools. Look for potable water and any edible food. Re-evaluate the tracks of the "large humanoids" in daylight.