Hours later, Silas stumbled across a hollowed-out tree stump, its weathered base rising to about his height before abruptly cutting off. The interior was cavernous and hollow, easily large enough to fit four of him if he crouched. Dirt and roots clung to its sides, leaving only one clear entrance, the rest of the stump packed with soil. It was far from perfect, but it would do.
The sun was sinking fast, the dimming light tinged with the pale gray of mist turning into drizzle. A low rumble echoed through the earth, almost imperceptible. Silas tensed for a moment. Another aftershock? The world had been trembling all day, subtle but persistent. This new Earth was alive, changing, and I have no idea how, he thought.
His surroundings dimmed further, but oddly, Silas realized he could still see—not clearly, but better than he would have expected. His vision seemed sharper, pulling details from the dusk that would normally blur into shadows.
Is it the spiritual energy? he wondered, touching the corner of his temple. Eyes are connected to the brain. Maybe I'm somehow channeling the energy unconsciously. But it's not like daylight.
Silas glanced at the sky. The drizzle was growing heavier, distant flashes of lightning flickering at the edges of the horizon. He shivered as the cool dampness seeped into his clothes. Shelter was no longer optional—it was essential.
The hollowed tree felt damp, but Silas figured it would insulate well enough to trap some heat. He needed fire. Picking through the forest floor, he gathered what branches, foliage, and twigs he could find. Most were soaked, water dripping from their ends as he carried them back to the stump. He shoved the bundle into the hollow, hoping they'd dry out slightly away from the rain.
His stomach growled as he crouched at the tree's entrance, knife in hand. Using mud and damp leaves, he worked to seal off the opening. His hands were numb from the cold, his movements slow and deliberate. He thought about sleeping, but something in him resisted the idea.
He checked the bite on his arm. It had scabbed over cleanly, no sign of infection. At least that's one thing going right, he thought dryly.
From his ring of holding, Silas pulled a strip of dried jerky and began to chew. A faint warmth spread through his chest as the meat's spiritual energy reached his core. The sensation was subtle but comforting, like a small fire stoked in his belly.
Leaning back against the hollow's rough bark, Silas closed his eyes and tried to cultivate. At first, his thoughts wandered, but gradually, his breathing slowed. The world outside faded into the soft patter of rain.
As his mind cleared, Silas became aware of the spiritual energy around him. It was denser here than it had been in the pagoda, almost tangible as it seeped into his body. His senses stretched outward, but oddly, the energy didn't extend far beyond the hollow.
Is it the tree stump? he wondered, his brow furrowing. The energy seemed to pulse faintly, as though the stump itself were a reservoir. Weird. So much he didn't know, and the system wasn't offering any answers.
He shrugged off the questions for now, focusing instead on his dantian. His priority was gathering enough energy to fill it completely—enough to work on strengthening his muscles once he could gather the resources to activate the necklace around his neck. It was supposed to generate heat for his Diamond Body Refinement Technique, but for now, it was just dead weight.
The night wore on as Silas cultivated, the spiritual energy flowing steadily into his core. Outside, the rain grew heavier, the occasional clap of thunder shaking the ground beneath him. He paid it no mind, his focus locked inward.
Silas woke up cold. The damp chill from the hollowed-out tree had settled into his muscles overnight, leaving him stiff and sore. Light streaked through the entrance, golden beams cutting through the cracks in the mud and foliage he'd used to seal it. He stretched, peeling back the barrier and stepping outside.
The warm sun hit his face, and he let out a relieved breath. Finally, some decent weather. Judging by the sun's position, it was probably early afternoon. He must have cultivated for hours. His body felt slightly less heavy than the night before, but hunger gnawed at his stomach.
His jacket, torn where the raccoon had bitten him, was still holding together. It wasn't much, but it was something. The thought of taking it off briefly crossed his mind—it felt like it might get too warm later—but he kept it on. Protection, even if minimal, was better than nothing.
As he started walking, his ring of holding began to glow faintly. Silas paused, frowning.
Weird. He stared at the faintly luminous band. The system never mentioned this.
Almost on cue, the system's neutral voice chimed in.
"Ring of holding glows when approaching an item of significance. Focus on the ring, and it will direct you."
Silas clenched his fist, frowning as he concentrated on the ring. A strange pull tugged at his senses, like a compass aligning itself. It pointed east.
Five miles, a distance registered faintly in his mind.
Silas blinked. This is definitely going to cause fights, he thought grimly. But whatever the ring was leading him to, it had to be worth investigating. With a sigh, he adjusted his jacket and started moving.
Elsewhere…
Charles stood atop a rocky outcrop, his chest puffed with pride. Before him stood his "kingdom"—a mismatched group of two uneasy-looking men and seven women. The men were tools, temporary placeholders for now. The women, however, were special. They would be his wives.
A grin stretched across Charles's face as he twirled the wooden bo staff in his hand, which he proudly referred to as his "stick weapon." He had acquired it in a mini pagoda, despite the system nagging him to cultivate. Instead, he'd demanded a weapon. The system had obliged, though it saddled him with merit debt for it.
"Stupid-ass ring," he muttered, glancing down at the ring of holding on his finger. It had tricked him into owing merit points, but he couldn't deny its usefulness. The staff was solid and heavy, and when he swung it, it felt like an extension of his strength. So far, it had been enough to kill anyone foolish enough to cross him.
The ring was currently telling him one mile east there was something of importance, he would have it at any cost!
Satisfied with his dominance, Charles turned back to his group. His group. The thought made him chuckle. The women followed obediently, their heads low, while the two men shuffled nervously behind. Soon, they'd outlive their purpose too.
As they moved through the forest, Charles strode confidently at the head of his "army," spinning his staff idly as he went.
The underbrush erupted with a crash, and a massive boar charged into view, its hulking frame larger and more imposing than any ordinary specimen. Coarse, bristled fur covered its muscular body, streaked with patches of mud and debris that clung to its flanks. Its tusks, longer and more wickedly curved than natural, gleamed in the fragmented sunlight like sharpened ivory blades. A guttural snort rumbled from its chest, vibrating through the ground and sending a primal chill through the group as its small, dark eyes glared with an almost predatory ferocity.
Charles froze, startled. The boar charged without hesitation, its bulk tearing through the bushes like a battering ram.
Charles twisted to the side at the last moment, narrowly avoiding the tusks. Raising his staff, he swung with all his strength, aiming for the creature's spine.
Thud.
The blow landed, but to his shock, it barely left a mark. The boar staggered slightly before whipping around with a snarl, its small black eyes burning with fury.
"What—?!" was all Charles managed to say before the beast charged again.
This time, it tore through the group like a whirlwind. The women's screams rang out as the boar's tusks gored them, blood spraying the forest floor. Chaos erupted as Charles stumbled back, his staff trembling in his grip.
The boar turned, its focus locking onto him. It pawed the ground, its muscles coiling with lethal intent.
Charles panicked, his bravado crumbling. He spun on his heels, trying to flee, but the beast was faster. The last thing Charles saw was the ground vanishing beneath him as the boar's tusks caught him squarely in the back, sending him flying into the air. Pain tore through his body before everything went black forever.
Silas moved cautiously through the forest, his senses heightened by the lingering tension in the air. He passed scenes of chaos—animals fighting viciously over territory or food, the noise of their clashes echoing through the trees. Despite his curiosity, Silas didn't stop. Whatever the ring of holding was leading him to, he couldn't afford to miss out. He quickened his pace, his boots crunching softly against the forest floor.
Then, rounding a thicket, he stumbled upon a gruesome scene that made him pause. A massive boar was hunched over the torn remains of several unfortunate victims, its coarse, bristled fur slick with blood. The beast tore into its meal with savage fervor, its long, wicked tusks gleaming wetly in the faint sunlight that filtered through the trees.
Silas grimaced, his stomach turning. The ring of holding pulsed again on his finger, faint but noticeable. He was still about a mile from his destination, but now another sensation prickled at his awareness—something here, something near the boar.
The massive beast paused mid-meal, lifting its bloodied snout to nudge a stick on the ground. Silas narrowed his eyes. Not a stick, he realized. A staff. The boar bit down on it, and Silas expected the wood to snap in two.
It didn't.
The boar grunted in frustration, tossing the staff aside with surprising force before curling up near its half-eaten meal to digest.
Silas froze as something new flickered across his vision:
[King-Ranked Beast: Forest Boar]
King Beasts are the strongest beasts in the area, worth additional merit points.
His heart skipped a beat. King-ranked? The words sounded as intimidating as they felt. This wasn't just any beast—it was the dominant predator in this region. His instincts screamed to leave, to avoid this creature at all costs.
Still, his eyes flicked toward the staff the boar had discarded. It was lying several feet away from the sleeping beast, faintly gleaming in the dappled sunlight. Whatever it was, it had survived the boar's attempt to break it.
Silas frowned. Not going to fight that thing, he thought, his grip tightening on his knife. But the staff… I might be able to grab that.
He waited, his body tense, as the boar shifted slightly, then settled again. A low, rhythmic snoring sound began to rumble from its massive chest. Silas's pulse quickened.
Good sign.
He slunk forward, staying as low to the ground as possible, his movements painstakingly slow. The damp forest floor soaked through his knees and palms as he crawled, his eyes flicking between the boar and the staff. Every breath was shallow, every muscle coiled with tension.
The boar snorted suddenly, its massive body twitching in its sleep. Silas froze, his heart hammering in his chest. The beast didn't wake, its snoring resuming after a moment.
Almost there, he thought, inching closer.
Finally, his fingers brushed against the smooth surface of the staff. He gripped it tightly, marveling at its solid weight as he slowly began to retreat. Each step back felt like an eternity. The boar stirred once, and Silas froze again, his breath catching in his throat.
After what felt like hours, he was far enough away to rise to his feet. He clutched the staff against his side and broke into a run, grinning as relief and exhilaration coursed through him.
Thirty minutes later…
The boar snorted, its massive body stirring as it woke from its slumber. Instinctual hunger gnawed at its belly as it rose to its feet, its small, dark eyes scanning the area.
It paused, sniffing the air, its head tilting as it searched for something. Then it remembered—the stick it couldn't break. Its tusks gleamed as it searched the ground, but the staff was gone.
The boar grunted in confusion, sniffing deeply at the dirt where Silas had crawled. A strange scent caught its attention, faint but distinct.
Tasty thing, it thought. The staff forgotten, the boar turned east, following the trail. Its powerful legs carried it forward with ease, its instincts driving it toward its next meal.
Meals, after all, made it stronger