Once he was done, Shaun immediately ingested blood from all the beasts, feeling a strange mixture of revulsion and necessity as the warm liquid slid down his throat. "I guess vampires have a point. Blood really is an acquired taste," he said, opening his status screen. Despite the exhaustion weighing heavily on his mind, he was surprised by his growth.
[Name: Shaun
Age: 19
Organism type: Human male
Class: Trapper
Status: Mental trauma detected, Toxic substance detected, Body fatigued (excessive), Body injury (severe).]
[Attributes:
Strength: 7
Durability: 6
Vitality: 8
Speed: 5
Dexterity: 6
Mentality: 7]**
[Resistance:
Heat: 2
Cold: 2
Toxic: 1
Electricity: 0
Light: 0
Dark: 0]**
[Skills:
Active: Wrap Trap
Passive: Feeding]**
The most notable improvements were in his vitality and mentality. It wasn't hard to guess why. His body had been pushed to the brink so many times that it was likely forcing his natural healing abilities into overdrive. That extra point in vitality, likely gained from the boar beast, felt like a small mercy after everything he'd endured.
"Well, it's no Estus Flask, but I'll take what I can get," he muttered.
The reptiles had been formidable foes, their abilities sharp and deadly, but their contributions to his growth were scattered, their attributes not aligning with one another. It was as if their raw power couldn't fully translate into his system. Most of Shaun's progress seemed to come from his own relentless training. His passive "Feeding" skill sounded promising, but its actual benefits were unpredictable, hinging on random attribute gains that felt like rolling dice in a game where the stakes were his life. Killing a single reptile was an arduous task; killing enough to see significant gains felt nearly impossible.
Yet, the system, while both a blessing and a curse, acted as a governor on human growth. Though the limits had been lifted, Shaun's abilities were still only in the preliminary stages of development. The more he pushed himself, the more he could stretch those limits, maximizing the potential hidden within him. His brutal, self-imposed regimen was beginning to bear fruit, even if that fruit was sometimes bitter.
His mentality had increased dramatically, a result of enduring the relentless pain, exhaustion, and the near-constant threat of death. Each battle, each grueling day, had forged his mind into something sharper, harder—he was becoming more than he had ever been before.
The Toxic resistance was a direct consequence of his repeated exposure to the reptiles' venom, which he had used as a crude paralytic to aid his climbs. Over more than 10 agonizing hours, his body had adapted, albeit slightly, to the toxins. It wasn't much, but it was something.
Despite his desire to keep pushing forward, Shaun's body had reached its limit. He could barely move, his muscles screaming in protest, his mind teetering on the edge of unconsciousness. But he knew he had to continue. If he stopped, if he allowed himself to rest too long, the weakness would set in, and that could be the end of him.
He endured his "healing" process once again. This time, his consciousness didn't abandon him, but his body felt like a solid block of wood—rigid, unyielding. He tied a rope around his arms, and Panda, now a loyal, if begrudging companion, used it to drag him into the safety of his room.
A few days had taught Panda how to operate the door, ensuring Shaun wouldn't find himself in the same vulnerable position as before.
If he intended to stay here long term, Shaun would have built a more efficient system for ascending and descending the hill. As it stood, the treacherous climbs consumed half his daylight hours. But comfort wasn't something he could afford to indulge in. This was just another phase in his preparation for the day he would leave this place, strong enough to survive whatever this insane world threw at him. The grueling climbs served as a relentless form of physical conditioning—training that was as brutal as it was effective.
But what Shaun needed most at this point wasn't just physical prowess. No matter how fast he progressed, the creatures in this world were leaps and bounds ahead of him in sheer physicality. Their traits, like the reptile's venom, were insidious, requiring him to constantly put his life on the line for small, incremental improvements.
He needed to enhance his trap skills—his only true advantage in battle.
Shaun had been pondering the mechanics of charging his Wrap Trap. He discovered that while he could complete a trap in less than three charges, he could continue to charge it beyond the initial completion. With his Mentality now at 7, he could push the charge even further, extending it for over an hour past the initial completion.
Testing it out, he noticed that while the form of the trap remained unchanged, its strength had nearly quadrupled. The downside was the time investment—it took around two and a half hours to max out a single trap. With rest, it was closer to three hours per trap. In both the day and night hours, this would mean he could only produce a handful of traps if he devoted himself entirely to the task.
So he experimented, attempting to charge the traps while engaging in other activities—skinning creatures, storing materials, preparing equipment. It worked, but with a trade-off. His concentration was split, extending the time needed to charge each trap.
The rhythm he developed allowed him to spend more than four hours charging while multitasking, followed by an hour and a half of focused charging to finish each trap. In a single day, he could produce roughly seven high-quality traps.
"Multi-tasking: because why settle for being exhausted in one way when you can be exhausted in three?"
But Shaun sensed something else during these sessions, a faint flow connecting him to the trap as he charged it. Whenever he tapped into this flow, sensations overwhelmed him—sensations so intense they caused him to black out. It was a mystery he couldn't solve through sheer will or experience, something that would take time and understanding to master.
During his physical training, Shaun began adding weights—rocks strapped to his body to increase resistance. His old routine had become too easy, his body adapting quickly to the earlier challenges. Now, he pushed himself to the very brink, his training taking on a new level of intensity.
Unbeknownst to him, anywhere else in the world, people would call him a madman for what he was doing.