Relief washed over John, Tom and Terry like a tidal wave. The shimmering barrier of the safe zone pulsed before them, a beacon of safety after their harrowing journey. They quickened their pace, eager to rejoin the community and escape the oppressive silence of the forest.
Mark, ever vigilant, walked a few paces ahead, his senses attuned to his surroundings. As they neared the entrance, the events of the journey flooded back into John's mind.
Mark. The memory of his raw power still sent shivers down John's spine. The way he'd dispatched the wolves with such effortless brutality – a stark contrast to their own desperate struggle for survival.
The walk to the safe zone had been a brutal baptism by fire. They'd encountered an onslaught of creatures –But this time, the danger escalated. A monstrous chimera bear, reeking of putrid decay, lumbered towards them, its level a terrifying eight. Panic surged through John, Tom and Terry, but before they could react, Mark was already in motion. With a single, devastating punch, the hulking beast crumpled to the forest floor.
Their awe grew with every encounter. At one point, a swarm of colossal ants, each the size of a small car, emerged from the undergrowth. These leviathans, colossal insects pulsating with a menacing green aura, were identified by Mark's 'identify' skill as level nine. Yet even these formidable creatures couldn't withstand Mark's raw power. A few well-placed strikes sent them scuttling back into the foliage, their clicking mandibles echoing a frantic retreat.
They weren't entirely useless. Recognizing their limitations, Mark offered them a chance to participate. He guided them, ensuring they landed blows against the lesser threats, slowly gaining the system's recognition. "While he held the larger threats at bay, they engaged in skirmishes with lesser creatures. It wasn't much, but it was enough for the system to recognize their contribution. By the time they reached the safe zone, both John and Tom were elated to find themselves level four - a leap from their initial level three.
John couldn't help but wonder what motivated Mark. His power was undeniable, yet he'd used it to protect them, even offering them a chance to grow stronger. As they neared the safe zone, both John and Tom felt a surge of gratitude along with newfound confidence. But lingering within the excitement was a sense of apprehension – how would the others react to Mark?
Mark squinted as they stepped through the shimmering barrier. Gone were the towering trees … replaced by a grid of prefabricated buildings and paved streets – a stark, artificial contrast to the wildness they'd just left behind.". Apartment buildings, constructed in a bland, Earth-like style, lined the streets. A veneer of normalcy masked the underlying tension.
Relief washed over him. He'd been on edge for so long, one dangerous situation seamlessly blending into the next. Now, back in the supposed safety of the zone, he allowed his muscles to relax a fraction. Yet, a sliver of caution remained, a constant hum in the back of his mind.
As they entered, a sense of indifference met them. People bustled about their daily routines, seemingly oblivious to their arrival. They were just another hunting party returning, a commonplace occurrence in the safe zone's monotonous rhythm. The only thing that might draw attention was Mark's appearance. Dirt caked his armor, a testament to the battles they'd fought.
He turned to John, Tom, and Terry. "Figure you'll want to brief Bolu and Catherine," Mark said, gesturing towards the third building. "My apartment's the first on the right. If you need to talk or need me knock on the door."
John, Tom, and Terry exchanged glances, a mixture of gratitude and unease in their eyes. With a nod, they mumbled their thanks and headed off, presumably to seek out Bolu and Catherine, the apparent leaders of the safe zone.
As Mark walked past a group of traders haggling over monster cards, a sharp awareness of the social hierarchy prickled at him. It had only been a few hours, yet divisions were already forming. He reached his building, the sterile white façade a stark contrast to the forest's vibrant chaos.
Mark stepped into his apartment, a sense of anticipation churning inside him. The first time he'd claimed this room.
Mark stepped through the doorway of his apartment, the lingering scent of earth and blood clinging to his skin. The room, with its sterile, prefabricated walls, felt disorienting after the sensory overload of the forest.
A desperate hope for something resembling a bathroom flickered within him. He hadn't bothered checking the room thoroughly before, only noticing the bed, the kitchen, and the fridge with its precious food. His eyes darted around the room, searching for any sign of a private space, a place to wash away the day's battles. It seemed unlikely, a luxury in this harsh trial.
His gaze fell on a partially open door near the back. A flicker of anticipation sparked within him – could it be? He hurried towards it.". A wave of relief washed over him as he peered inside. There, in a pristine corner, stood a modern shower unit, complete with gleaming tiles and a bar of soap. It clashed with the trial's relentless "earn your reward" philosophy, a stark reminder of the comforts denied during those brutal hours in the forest. "A flicker of suspicion snaked through Mark's mind. Why the unexpected comforts? Was there more to this trial than he initially understood?
With a wry smile tugging at his lips, he stripped off his soiled clothes. Stepping into the shower, he let the surprisingly warm water wash over him. As the grime and sweat melted away, so too did a sliver of the tension coil in his muscles. He stepped out of the bathroom, he did not have any replacement clothes but he willed the leather armor he had from the card and he wore it
"He grabbed a ration bar from the fridge – another unexpected convenience. Questions hammered in his mind: Food, water, a place to sleep – was this part of the trial? Or was something else at play?"
Seated in the cramped living area, Mark reviewed the events of the past 22 hours. It was a whirlwind of action and discovery. But a nagging sense of unease remained. This "safe zone" felt too good to be true.
Mark sighed, a wave of frustration washing over him. Mysteries swirled around him in this new reality, a chaotic tangle of unanswered questions. With a resolute effort, he pushed aside the urge to analyze everything. Right now, strength was what mattered most.
The day's relentless battles hadn't left him physically drained. In fact, an odd restlessness hummed within him. Yet, a primal instinct urged him to rest. Glancing at the system interface, he saw two precious hours remaining on the quest timer. What would happen after the 24 hours elapsed remained a haunting question but dwelling on it felt futile.
He walked to the bed. With a thought, he activated Perfect Body – a precaution, even though he knew no one in the safe zone posed a threat to him. Bolu would come seeking answers, and there was no harm in grabbing a sliver of rest before then. Stretching out, he willed himself to unwind. However, sleep remained elusive, his mind abuzz with the events of the day.
A sharp rap on the door shattered Mark's restless contemplation. With a sigh, he rose and strode towards it. As expected, Bolu and Catherine stood on the other side. Yet, curiosity piqued at the three figures flanking them – two young women and a man.
They were a study in contrast. One woman, with fiery red hair and piercing emerald eyes. Scout, Mark thought. Her keen eyes and alert posture screamed someone who navigated the dangers of the forest. The other, her hair a cascade of midnight black, had a quiet intensity burning in her gaze. Ranged dealer, perhaps? Her slight frame hinted at agility, and the way her hand subtly brushed a hidden pouch on her hip made him suspect she wielded ranged weaponry. The man was broad-shouldered with a weathered face, his presence exuding the confidence of a seasoned hunter. Tank. No doubt about it. Built like a brick wall, he bore the marks of countless battles.
"Mark," Bolu greeted, his voice laced with a hint of surprise. "I didn't believe it when Tom told me you were alive. Assumed the worst, with how dangerous the forest turned out to be." He gestured towards the trio. "This is Anya, her sister, Elara and that is Kai."
Mark's senses flared as he felt a subtle shift in the air – Bolu was using Identify. Surprise flickered across the man's face; a reaction mirrored by Catherine.
"May we come in?" Bolu asked.
Mark shrugged, his mind racing. "Sure." As they entered, he activated Perfect Body, his Hunter's Instinct and Mental Perception homing in on the group. He'd dissect every gesture, every subtle twitch, seeking clues to their intentions.
Bolu cleared his throat. "I didn't believe it when Tom told me you were alive. Based on what happened in the forest and you going out alone…" he trailed off, leaving the unspoken judgment hanging in the air.
Mark offered a noncommittal shrug. "Seems luck was on my side this time."
Catherine stepped forward, her gaze sharp. "We have questions." Her tone brooked no argument, a contrast to how she'd dismissed his inquiries before he left the safe zone.
Mark rolled his eyes internally but schooled his features into a mask of disinterest. "Alright, fire away."
"How did you manage to level up so quickly?" she pressed.
Here's the extended scene, incorporating the Charisma justification:
Mark had already decided not to leak any information about his bloodline and he would start from downplaying his strength. "Wolves," he started, crafting a believable narrative. "Then I stumbled upon a goblin lair. Mostly luck and a lot of dead goblins." He downplayed his abilities, focusing on fortunate encounters and evasive maneuvers.
The story lacked details, but it felt hollow even to him. He cared little for their skepticism, however. He was done trying to fit in. He'd help humanity, but on his terms. He would not strive to get accepted.
"Can you share your stats?" Catherine continued, her tone insistent.
"Sure," he agreed, offering a fabricated set. "Strength, Constitution, Vitality, Intelligence, Wisdom, and Charisma."
Adding Charisma was a gamble, but a calculated one. He'd anticipated this question, and a standard set of attributes would deflect suspicion. Besides, the enhanced presence from the charisma stat wasn't something he could easily hide.
Bolu leaned forward, his weathered face creasing with interest. "Interesting. How many stat points do you get per level?"
Mark's heart skipped a beat. Stat gains per level? That did not cross his mind at all. He had assumed everyone got the same stat points per level. Tom, John, or Terry hadn't mentioned this. Confusion flickered across his face.
Anya, the fiery redhead, noticed his hesitation. "Not everyone in the safe zone knows," she explained kindly. "Most haven't leveled up, and those who have don't seem to think much of it. Everyone gets a different number of stat points per level, but no one knows why."
She gestured towards Bolu. "He gets five points per level, while I get four. Seems to be based on...potential, maybe? Something to do with our bodies, our minds, maybe even our souls based on some of those fantasy novels we read back home."
All eyes turned to Mark. He forced a nonchalant shrug. "Four," he muttered, his resolve to appear average solidifying.
The revelation about stat points had thrown him off balance. His unique bloodline felt more and more like a ticking time bomb. A flicker of doubt crossed his mind – should he have held back more during the journey? He pushed the thought down. Fear wouldn't dictate his actions, but he would need to be cautious going forward.