The sound of Muskrat's snoring echoed through the moon lit room, Whiskey-Jack took a quiet breath, It was late, and the world was silent, the only sound of the small fire in the fireplace and Muskrat's snoring.
The time had come. He had earned his stat points, and now he needed to see just how much stronger he would become.
Whiskey-Jack pulled the blanket aside, careful not to disturb the sleeping Muskrat, and leaned up to open his system menu, glowing faintly in the air. He had grown used to the system by now, the shimmering text and icons now an everyday part of his life.
His eyes hovered over the "Stats" option, his heart beating faster with anticipation. He had received four points from his most recent quest, and was ready to appoint them.
With a thought, the sheet switched options, revealing his current stats.
Current Stats:
Strength: 7
Speed: 4
Stamina: 9
Toughness: 3
"My strength and stamina must have really improved after all those hours of manual labor," Whiskey-Jack thought to himself.
The physical grind had built him into someone stronger, someone more capable. His strength had risen naturally over time, and his stamina had become his silent ally.
"But my speed…" Whiskey-Jack paused. He had no real way to train speed, no specific exercises or methods that he could think of.
He had to admit, that the increase would be valuable. Every fraction of a second mattered in this new dangerous world. And after that encounter with the two strange beings… he couldn't afford to let his guard down again.
"If I want to survive, I need to be able to take a hit… and dodge them, too," he muttered to himself, his fingers hovering over his stats.
With a deep breath, he made the decision.
Speed: 4 "" 5
Toughness: 3 "" 6
Whiskey-Jack could feel it, his muscles, his very cells, responding. His energy surged for a moment, a warm, pleasant sensation flooding through him.
He clenched his fists, feeling the new strength in his grip.
"I feel… different," he whispered, flexing his arm.
His skin tingled as if his body had just awakened from a deep slumber. But when he looked at his reflection in the nearby cracked mirror, he saw no physical change.
His face still had that rugged, unshaven look, and his clothes were still worn. "No visible changes," he mused. "But I can feel it."
The increase in toughness had already made his skin thicker, more resistant, like a shield was being forged inside him, layer by layer.
Speed… that would take more time to test, but he could already tell his legs felt a little lighter, more responsive.
It was like a hidden power that lay dormant, ready to spring to life when he needed it.
Next, Whiskey-Jack's attention turned to his skills. He'd been eagerly waiting to check them out, he had two new abilities now, each unique.
His thought switching the sheet to the "Skills" tab, his heart skipped a beat as he read the descriptions.
[Sneak]
[Blends the user with their surroundings and makes the user's footsteps quiet.]
[Animal Speak]
[Allows the user to communicate and understand all animals.]
"Sneak," he muttered under his breath, the corners of his lips forming a small grin. He could already picture the endless possibilities this skill would offer.
The thought excited him.
Then his eyes shifted on the second skill, Animal Speak.
"Wait… what?" Whiskey-Jack blinked, rereading the description. "I can talk to animals?"
He'd never even seen anyone communicate with animals before. Sure, he'd watched his father make animal calls to lure prey, but nothing like this.
Could he really talk to the wild creatures of this world? He wasn't sure if he should be excited or skeptical.
"I guess it might be useful," he muttered. "Maybe it'll help me understand something I couldn't before."
His gaze drifted out the window,
"Looks like I'll be hunting again tomorrow," Whiskey-Jack grinned, feeling a surge of excitement.
He was ready. Ready to test his new skills and explore what the world had to offer.