Elric's consciousness returned slowly, like a heavy fog lifting from his mind. At first, all he felt was pain—dull and throbbing, spreading across his shoulder where the Grey Stalker had slashed him. His whole body ached, muscles stiff and uncooperative, but at least he was alive. That much was clear from the rhythmic pulse of his heartbeat in his ears.
He opened his eyes, blinking away the lingering blur, and took in his surroundings. The forest around him was quiet, eerily so, as if the world itself had paused in reverence to the battle that had taken place. The flickering remains of his Flame Spark had left small patches of smoldering embers across the ground, casting a dim orange glow on the nearby trees. The smell of charred wood and burnt fur hung heavy in the air.
With a groan, Elric pushed himself up, leaning against a tree for support. His body protested every movement, but he forced himself to stand. The memory of the fight came flooding back—each move, each desperate dodge, and the final blow that had saved his life.
Elric's eyes snapped to where the beast lay, its charred body motionless in the clearing. The once-majestic creature, all muscle and menace, now lay in a twisted heap, its fur singed black and its limbs contorted unnaturally. The sight should have filled him with satisfaction, but instead, a wave of nausea hit him. It had been too close—far too close. One misstep, one moment of hesitation, and he would have been the one lying dead.
He took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart. He had won. That was all that mattered now. Survival, in this world, was the ultimate prize.
As he surveyed the scene, something cold and clinical stirred in the back of his mind. The system, ever-present, flickered into view with its cold, emotionless notification.
[Victory Achieved: Grey Stalker (Rank 1 – Low)] [Soul Points Earned: 1] [Total Soul Points: 1]
Elric exhaled, his breath visible in the cool night air. One soul point. It wasn't much, but it was something—a small, incremental step forward. He would need many more if he was to grow stronger, but for now, it was a start. His body might be battered, but his mind felt sharper than ever, knowing the system had rewarded him.
He turned his attention back to his injuries. The gash on his shoulder was deep, the blood seeping through the torn fabric of his jacket. But even as he inspected the wound, he noticed something strange. The bleeding had already slowed to a trickle, the edges of the cut beginning to close on their own.
"Healing Blood…" Elric muttered under his breath.
His passive talent was working, mending his body with each passing second. It wasn't perfect—he would still need time to fully recover—but it was better than nothing. He pressed his hand against the wound, feeling the faint warmth of his own blood knitting the flesh back together.
Once again, he marveled at the system's ability to grant him such talents, even if they appeared weak on the surface. Healing Blood had kept him alive—kept him fighting when others would have collapsed. And while it was only F-rank, it had proven invaluable.
He could still feel the strain in his muscles, the fatigue of battle weighing heavily on him, but the pain was becoming more manageable. For a brief moment, Elric allowed himself to lean back against the tree, closing his eyes and savoring the quiet of the forest. The adrenaline was fading, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion that made him want to sleep for days.
But sleep would have to wait.
Elric forced himself to stand fully, shaking off the fatigue. He couldn't afford to stay here any longer. The wilderness was unpredictable, and the scent of blood would surely attract more predators if he didn't move. He glanced around the clearing, his sharp gaze searching for anything useful before he made his way back toward the city.
His eyes fell on the Grey Stalker's remains. The creature had been a fierce opponent, but it was also a resource. Elric's hand hovered over his knife, the crude blade still stained with the beast's blood. There were parts of the creature that could be valuable—the claws, the hide, even the fangs. The black market in Sub-City 4 would pay well for such materials, especially from a Grey Stalker.
With careful precision, Elric crouched beside the beast and set to work. His movements were methodical, almost mechanical, as he harvested what he could. Each claw was removed with a swift cut, the sharp bone-like structures gleaming faintly in the firelight. The hide was tougher, requiring more effort, but Elric worked through the pain, knowing the reward would be worth it.
As he worked, his thoughts drifted to the black market itself. The underground network in the sub-city was vast and dangerous, but it was the only place where people like him—outcasts and the weak—could find a way to survive. Official channels wouldn't touch someone with an F-rank talent, but the black market didn't care about rank. They cared about results.
Once he had collected enough from the beast, Elric stood and tied the materials into a makeshift bundle. He wiped the sweat from his brow, his muscles screaming in protest with each movement, but he pushed through the discomfort. He had survived the wilderness—now he just needed to make it back to the city alive.
The journey back through the forest was slower, each step weighed down by exhaustion and the lingering pain in his shoulder. The night air was crisp, and the distant sounds of the wilderness kept him on edge. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, sent his heart racing, but no other predators appeared. Perhaps the scent of the Grey Stalker was enough to ward off anything else that might have been lurking nearby.
As the lights of Sub-City 4 came into view in the distance, Elric felt a strange sense of relief wash over him. The city was harsh and unforgiving, but it was familiar. Out here, in the wilderness, everything was a threat.
He passed through the perimeter, the familiar hum of the city's walls filling his ears as he stepped back onto the paved streets. The cold steel of the city was a far cry from the untamed wilds he had just escaped, but it was no less dangerous. He knew the predators here wore different faces—some smiled while they sharpened their knives.
Elric made his way through the dimly lit streets, his mind focused on his next steps. He had earned a single soul point, but that was only the beginning. He needed more—much more—if he was going to make a difference. And that meant taking more risks, hunting more dangerous prey, and delving deeper into the mysteries of the Creator System.
As he approached a rundown building at the edge of the city's market district, he felt the familiar prickle of eyes watching him. The black market was never fully asleep, and even in the dead of night, its agents moved like shadows, always looking for an opportunity.
He entered through a side door, the dingy interior lit only by a few flickering bulbs. The smell of oil and smoke clung to the air, and the low murmur of voices echoed from deeper within. Elric ignored the figures lurking in the corners and made his way to a counter in the back.
A tall, wiry man stood behind the counter, his face hidden beneath a hood, only his sharp, calculating eyes visible in the dim light. He looked up as Elric approached, his gaze flicking to the bundle in Elric's arms.
"You've been busy," the man said, his voice a low rasp.
Elric dropped the bundle onto the counter without a word. The man reached out, untying the cloth and inspecting the contents with a practiced eye. His fingers traced the edges of the Grey Stalker's claws, his expression unreadable.
"Impressive," the man muttered. "Not many make it back with something like this."
"Price?" Elric asked, his voice flat.
The man glanced up at him, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly before he named a figure. Elric didn't argue—he didn't have the energy for haggling, and the price was fair enough for what he had brought.
The man handed him a small pouch of credits, and Elric tucked it away, his mind already calculating his next move. The money would be enough to keep him afloat for a while, but it wouldn't last forever. He needed more than just survival—he needed power.
As he turned to leave, the man's voice called after him.
"If you're looking for more work, there's always demand for people who can handle themselves out there."
Elric paused, his eyes flicking back to the man.
"I'll keep that in mind."
He stepped out into the night, the weight of the credits in his pocket a small comfort. But his thoughts were already elsewhere—on the system, on the soul points he had earned, and on the long road ahead.
Because this was only the beginning. And Elric knew that if he wanted to survive in this brutal world, he would have to keep pushing forward.
No matter the cost.
End of Chapter Seven.