My eyes snap open as a sharp yell pierces through the haze of sleep.
"Adam! Get up! Wolves!"
The last word jolts me upright, adrenaline kicking in before my mind catches up. What the hell? My gaze locks onto the chaotic scene ahead—two snarling grey wolves circling Max. He's desperately trying to summon a fireball, his hands flickering with faint embers. Each attempt sputters out before reaching the wolves, who are closing in with every failed spell.
Not on my watch. I summon a sharpened stick from my spatial pocket, gripping it tightly like a spear. The wood is rough under my fingers, and I can feel the grain digging into my palms. Activating Blood Rush, I charge at the nearest wolf, aiming to skewer it straight through.
The wolf notices me at the last second, leaping back with an almost mocking grace. Its companion shifts its attention to me, flanking my side. Damn it. Even with my boosted stats, their movements are barely within my grasp. My grip tightens, knuckles whitening as I ready myself.
"Hold them off! I'll try something!" Max yells, his voice strained.
I nod, focusing on the wolves. Their piercing yellow eyes watch me, calculating. They don't rush—they're patient predators waiting for the perfect opening.
And then they spring.
Both attack simultaneously, and I swing the spear wildly, trying to keep them at bay. My movements are clumsy, untrained, and too slow. One wolf clamps its jaws onto my left shoulder, its teeth sinking deep, while the other bites down on my right calf.
Pain explodes through me, raw and brutal, yet strangely distant—muted by the adrenaline surging through my veins. A notification flashes before my eyes.
Damage Sustained!
-40 HP
Snarling, I swing the spear down like a crude blade, slamming it into the wolf latched onto my leg. It yelps and releases me, stumbling back. For the one on my shoulder, I rush toward the nearest tree and slam into it with all my weight. The impact stuns the beast, and it falls to the ground in a daze.
No time to breathe. The other wolf lunges at me again, its fangs glinting in the dim light. I bring the spear up in a horizontal strike, forcing it to retreat with a frustrated growl. It glances at its fallen comrade, eyes narrowing.
I reapply Blood Rush, lifting the spear high with both hands. My muscles scream in protest as I bring it crashing down on the dazed wolf's head. The blow draws a thin trickle of blood, but it's not enough. Gritting my teeth, I strike again. And again. Each hit fueled by raw anger and desperation.
The wolf beneath me convulses, its once-proud form reduced to a broken, bloodied mess. My arms grow heavy, refusing to lift the spear for another strike. My entire body feels sluggish, pain creeping in from every wound.
Before I can react, sharp teeth clamp down on my leg again.
Damage Sustained!
-20 HP
I glance down to see the second wolf, its jaws locked around me. Damn you! I yell, ignoring the searing pain, I focus on finishing the first wolf. Blood and viscera spray as I drive the spear down one last time. Its body falls limp, and a notification blinks into view.
Enemy Slain: 1
(1x Grey Wolf Level 3)
Total XP Gained: 100
Another two messages follow immediately after.
Status Afflicted!
Bleed
Level Up!
You have reached level 2
Stat points awarded: 4
I dismiss the notifications, but darkness begins creeping into the edges of my vision. My legs buckle, and I collapse to the ground. The second wolf releases me, stepping back as I lay in a growing pool of my blood.
What's happening? Why can't I move?
I force myself to look at my injuries, dreading what I'll see. My clothes are soaked in crimson, the massive bite wounds on my shoulder and legs oozing blood. Flesh is torn, skin shredded, and in some spots, bone gleams through the gore. No wonder my body's giving up—I've almost bled out.
Despite everything, I manage a manic smile as I glance at the broken corpse of the first wolf. It's unrecognizable, a grotesque heap of fur and mangled flesh.
A growl snaps me back to the present. The second wolf stares at me, its fury palpable. It paws the ground, coiling its legs in preparation for the killing blow.
I guess this is it, Han. Wonder what this world's afterlife is like, if there even is one.
Before despair fully settles in, a ball of fire slams into the wolf's side. The force of the blast sends it tumbling, its fur igniting in a flash of orange flames. The wolf howls, rolling on the ground in a desperate attempt to extinguish the fire.
Three more fireballs follow in rapid succession, each one hitting with pinpoint accuracy. The wolf slides away, its body consumed by the roaring flames.
Turning my head, I spot Max standing a short distance away, his right hand outstretched and his other clutching his head. Blood streams from his eyes and nose, his expression dazed.
"Max…" I manage to whisper before he collapses, crumpling to the ground.
So that's it, huh? We're both going to die after all.
The darkness presses in, and I finally let go, falling back into the blood-soaked earth.
A voice echoes around me, calm and resonant. "Not bad."
A notification appears.
New Skill Learned!
Bloody Bandage | Level 1 | Uncommon
(Harness the blood of your foes to repair moderate wounds.)
Barely conscious, my survival instincts take over, and I call on the new ability. A wave of cold, soothing energy bursts outward, sapping a massive chunk of my mana. The blood pooling around the first wolf's broken corpse pulses with an eerie red light. It stirs unnaturally, swirling toward me like a living river, sinking into my wounds. A faint, almost delirious smile tugs at my lips as the grotesque display unfolds. Then, everything fades to black.
When I come to again, my eyes flutter open, blinking against the dim light filtering through the trees. What happened? The fight replays in my mind, and panic surges as I twist my neck to inspect the wounds. My breath catches—the massive gashes are now sealed over with thick, crimson scabs. The surrounding skin is a bruised patchwork of black and purple, but the bleeding has stopped. I sit up gingerly, hissing at the dull ache radiating from every joint and muscle. The pain is relentless but feels oddly muted, bearable even.
This could take weeks to fully heal. The thought makes my stomach churn. Then, an idea strikes: the stats. Maybe they hold the answer. Desperation lends speed to my movements as I pull up my stat page, eyes locking on the vitality number. With a silent prayer, I will the stat higher, watching as my remaining points are consumed and vitality ticks up to 11.
A soft ding echoes in my mind.
New Title Awarded!
Vital Regenerator 1 | Common
(Boosts health regeneration by 5%)
I let out a shaky sigh, tension easing from my shoulders. The gamble worked. I glance at my updated vitals:
Level 2 (0/150)
HP: 70/70 (110*)
ST: 70/70
MP: 60/60
My brow furrows. "Why is my health capped at 70?" I mutter aloud. "Is it because of the damage I've taken?" The numbers hint at a pattern: every point in vitality seems to add ten to my maximum health. At least that mystery is solved.
Satisfied for now, I turn my attention to where Max had collapsed earlier. He's still sprawled on the ground, chest rising and falling steadily. Sleeping? Seriously? A scowl forms as I glance down at my own battered form. I'm in agony, barely able to move, and he's out here enjoying a nap?
Time drags as I lie on my back, staring at the sky above. The minutes crawl, and my thoughts grow darker with each passing second. Finally, frustration boils over, and I grit my teeth, forcing myself to stand. This time, the pain doesn't take my breath away—it's still there, sharp and insistent, but manageable.
I hobble toward Max, my legs trembling with every step. "Wake up!" I bark, looming over him. For a moment, I'm tempted to kick him, but the thought of testing my balance stops me.
Max jolts awake, blinking groggily. His hand smears dried drool across his cheek as he sits up, disoriented. "What happened? Where are they?" His eyes dart around wildly.
"Relax," I snap. "They're dead."
His panicked expression eases as his gaze settles on me. Then, his jaw drops. "Are you—okay?" he stammers, his eyes wide as they trace the scabbed-over wounds.
"Getting there," I mutter, brushing off his concern. "Check your notifications."
Max's eyes narrow, and he tilts his head slightly—a telltale sign he's interacting with the system. I leave him to it and make my slow, painful way back to the fire pit. Collapsing beside it, I rub my temples.
Why didn't I pick a ranged skill? Physical combat is brutal. I'll need a proper weapon, something better than a barely sharpened stick, if we're to survive another encounter. If nature documentaries have taught me anything, there are likely more out there, and they'll have an alpha.
The thought sours my mood, dread creeping in like a shadow. No. Focus. Get out of this damned forest first. With renewed resolve, I shuffle toward the wolf's charred remains. Most of the fur has burned away, leaving scorched muscle and sinew exposed. My eyes settle on its leg. If I can harvest the bone, maybe I can fashion it into a crude spear tip.
"What are you doing?" Max's voice startles me. He strides up, eyeing the carcass warily.
"Good timing," I say, straightening. "Can you burn the back leg? I'll handle the rest."
Max hesitates, then nods. Kneeling beside the corpse, he holds his hands out. Wisps of flame form between his fingers, coalescing into a small, flickering orb. With a flick of his wrist, the fireball strikes the leg, setting it ablaze.
I watch as the flames blacken the flesh. After a few minutes, I scrape dirt over the fire to snuff it out, then dig through the ashes. The bone is darkened but intact, though it feels brittle under my grip. It'll have to do.
Sliding it into my spatial pocket, I summon a few fruits simultaneously to test the skills limitsl. To my surprise, four yellow fruits tumble to the ground.
Skill Improved!
Spatial Pocket reached Level 2
+1 Wisdom awarded
Reading through the notifications, my eyes widen, and a grin spreads across my face. Even improving a skill can provide tangible benefits, huh? But what triggered the update? Was it my growing understanding of how to use it or the sheer number of activations? Deciding that two heads are better than one, I head toward Max to share my thoughts.
After listening to me, he nods thoughtfully. "Yeah, it's probably a mix of both. My fireball skill is already at level three."
Hearing this, my eyebrows shoot up. "That fast? Does the skill feel any different now?" I ask, curiosity lacing my tone.
He smirks and raises his hand, palm up. In moments, a fireball forms—a sphere of blazing light, about half the size of my head. It flickers and dances with intensity, brighter and sharper than before. "It's stronger now," Max says, pride clear in his voice. "I can shoot it at a high speed in one direction, and it takes less time to form."
"Interesting," I muse. "What about your stats? Where did you assign your points?"
"I put two each into Intelligence and Wisdom. They seem like the stats that affect magic, at least based on the games I've played," he replies, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.
"Did it work?" I press, eager to confirm my suspicions.
Max nods slowly. "Yeah. Each point in Intelligence gave me +10 Mana. As for Wisdom… I haven't noticed its effects yet."
His words spark a realization. There must be a stat that governs stamina—perhaps Endurance. I mull this over as Max wanders off to the center of camp. Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I remember my goal: time to craft a bone spear.
I sit beside the fire pit, my materials spread out before me—a heated wolf bone, sharp rocks, and a sturdy, dried tree branch. Right. Time to channel my engineering degree.
I start by smashing the bone's tip with a rock to create a jagged, sharp edge. Then I rub the bone with the stone, smoothing and sharpening it further. Satisfied, I move on to the branch, carving a wedge into one end. Recalling a survival video I'd once seen, I jam the bone into the wedge, securing it with brute force. Lifting the spear above my head, I admire my handiwork. The bone tip glints in the sunlight, a primal weapon born of necessity.
"You'll need to wrap the end or use glue if you want it to hold properly," Max chimes in lazily, one eye open as he practices his fireball skill nearby.
I nod, acknowledging his advice, and head out to scavenge for something suitable. Glue is beyond my expertise, but I manage to find some dried roots. Using them like cord, I bind the bone to the branch tightly. The spear looks crude but sturdy enough. Apparently, the system agrees with me, because a notification appears in my vision.
New Skill Learned!
Crude Crafting | Level 1 | Common
(Provides insight when creating basic objects or weapons.)
A rush of knowledge floods my mind, showing me improved techniques for crafting not just this spear but other items as well. So, this skill is passive. Cool.
I return to Max to share the news. He grows contemplative, then speaks. "Do you think it's okay for us to keep gaining skills like this? What if there's a limit to how many a person can have?"
The question makes me wince. That sounds exactly like how most games work. But this isn't a game more like governed by a system similar.
"I don't know," I admit. "But for now, I'll take all the skills I can get. We need every advantage we can find to survive."
Max seems to understand, nodding before resuming his practice. I decide to postpone refining the spear for now. Instead, I glance upward, noting the sun's position. It's high in the sky—about noon. If we're going to move deeper into the forest, now's the time to prepare.
Before I can leave, Max calls out. "Aren't you going to do something about your clothes?"
I glance down at myself. My once brown and white outfit is now a crusty, reddish-brown mess, with torn fabric hanging in tatters. "What can I do?" I ask, frustration creeping into my voice.
"Head back to the ocean and wash them," he suggests simply.
He's got a point. "I'll smell like blood otherwise, and that'll attract more predators," he adds, frowning. "I'll burn the wolf corpses, but your clothes… well, I could burn those too, but I'd rather not see you running around naked."
"Yeah, no thanks," I mutter. Decision made, I give Max a thumbs-up and start retracing our steps toward the ocean, using the stick markers we left behind.
By the time I return to camp, it's late evening. "It's still kind of muddy-looking, but at least you don't smell like blood anymore," Max comments, illuminated by the firelight.
"It's the best I could do without detergent," I reply, exhaustion clear in my voice. Flopping down next to the fire, I let its warmth dry my damp clothes while I munch on a yellow fruit.
Max turns to me. "Do you think they'll attack at night?" His tone is more eager than concerned—he seems to be itching to test his enhanced fireball.
"Don't know," I say, rubbing my hands on the grass to clean them. "But I'll take first watch. If anything happens, I'll wake you."
Grabbing my spear, I rise and start pacing the camp's perimeter. From the corner of my eye, I see Max lie down, already drifting off. As I walk beneath the darkening sky, stars winking into existence above me, I can't help but replay the fight in my head.
I really hope we don't get attacked tonight, I murmur under my breath, gripping my spear tightly.