"How am I supposed to make something good with just my hands? Do others use tools?" Andrew asked, frustrated. His hands felt clumsy and inadequate.
"Tools, yes," Lequi replied, crossing her arms. "And they level up their crafting skills—or better yet, make others craft for them. The busy ones always delegate."
"Disappointing," he muttered, shaking his head. "So, what's your power?"
"I can heal others," she said matter-of-factly.
"That's it?" Andrew frowned.
She rolled her eyes. "I can heal virtually any damage. As long as the head's intact, I can bring someone back."
What she didn't mention was that she could even heal headless bodies, but the result was no different from leaving them dead. The soul didn't return.
"Oh, wow," Andrew said, his voice laced with sarcasm. "I can see why those camps would really want you."
Lequi's face darkened. His words had touched on something painful. Memories surfaced—ones she wished she could bury forever. The screams, the desperation, the blood. They haunted her waking hours as much as her dreams.
"Let's not talk about that," she said quietly. "I escaped for a reason."
"Oh, okay. Sorry," Andrew said, guilt creeping into his tone.
"It's alright. Let's go hunting," she said briskly, brushing it off.
Andrew smiled and activated his ability, which he called Redo. The name was generic, sure, but he wasn't aiming for style points.
They spotted a deer grazing on blue grass nearby. According to Lequi, monster animals only fled from higher-level threats. For weaker ones like Andrew, it was the opposite—the animals would attack.
The deer stopped chewing and stared at Andrew as he approached. Its dark eyes gleamed with curiosity, not fear. Monster animals weren't just omnivores; they were opportunists. If they thought they had the upper hand, they'd fight.
Andrew closed the gap, gripping his spear tightly. At three meters, the deer let out a sharp, guttural cry and charged. Its sudden aggression made him flinch, but he steadied himself and threw the spear.
The deer anticipated the attack and darted to the side—but Andrew's throw curved unnaturally, striking it mid-leap, right in the throat. Blood spurted as the animal collapsed, scrambling weakly before falling motionless.
Andrew turned to Lequi with a triumphant grin. "You've got to admit, I'm a pretty good shot."
A system message flashed before him:
[EXP awarded]
[Level 7 → Level 9]
Lequi's response was sharp. "Holy shit! Grab it before the blood draws predators!"
Andrew's grin faded. She had a point. He hurried to the carcass and slung it over his shoulder. The weight was significant, but with his enhanced strength, it felt manageable—like carrying a particularly heavy backpack.
What he didn't tell her was that he'd rewound time twenty times to land that perfect shot. Each failed attempt had ended badly: the deer impaling him, tearing off an arm, or outright mauling him. The level difference seemed small on paper but felt like a chasm in practice. Fortunately, the deer never went for his head.
Lequi was already scattering green powder around them. The pungent smell hit Andrew like a slap. "What the hell is that?"
She didn't look up. "It's territorial marking powder. It tells other monsters this area belongs to something stronger."
"Like cats marking territory," Andrew muttered.
"Exactly," she said, summoning a jug of water to wash her hands. He noticed her touching the jug without hesitation.
"You just handled animal crap and touched the jug."
She sighed, tossing him a skinning knife. "You think I had a choice? Now, help me skin this thing."
Andrew hesitated but relented. Following her guidance, he worked on the deer's tough hide, his arms burning as he took breaks to massage them. Hours passed as they removed the guts, separated the meat, and prepared it for cooking.
When he started gathering leaves for a fire, Lequi stopped him. She cracked a fire stone over a log, igniting it instantly. They skewered the meat and placed it over the flames.
The rich aroma of roasting meat filled the air. They sat in silence, taking it in.
"How do these things usually taste?" Andrew asked, breaking the quiet.
"Not great," Lequi admitted, staring at the fire. "No seasoning. Most of the plants now are unrecognizable."
Andrew shifted uncomfortably. "How did all this even happen? The monsters, the landscapes—everything?"
Lequi exhaled, leaning back. "It started with a dungeon outbreak. First one was in New York, buried in the sewers. No one noticed until it was too late. Monsters spread, claiming territory. Then, more dungeons appeared within those territories, and they broke open too. The cycle kept repeating. Eventually, every dungeon door opened. Three days later, we got the system notification: 'Second Initialization Beginning.'" She paused, her voice bitter. "That energy mutated everything. Trees grew massive, cities crumbled, and monsters thrived. Only those with the system remained untouched."
Andrew stared into the fire, absorbing her words. "The world was... reconstructed."
"Exactly," Lequi said, pulling a piece of meat from the fire. Steam rose from it. "And whatever's next? No clue."
Andrew watched her take a bite. She winced, the meat scalding her mouth, but she kept eating. When she coughed, trying to cool her mouth, he chuckled. "Can't you just heal your tongue?"
"I did," she said through gritted teeth. "Still hurts."
Andrew laughed and turned his attention back to the fire. The sky above shifted. Green clouds, almost sentient, drifted quickly across the horizon.
"What's with those clouds?" he asked, uneasy. "Are they monsters?"
"No," Lequi said. "They're more like plants. They're alive but not on an animal level. Creepy, right?"
Andrew shivered. "Yeah. Freaky."
"By the way," Andrew said, "when can you heal the back of my head?"
She was biting down on a deer's bone when Andrew spoke. Without looking up, she grabbed her staff, which had been resting nearby. "I guess I can do it now."
As she focused on the area, Andrew felt the tension at the back of his head ease. It was replaced by a strange, tickling sensation that seemed to move up and down.
After a moment, she set her staff down. But for some reason, her hands were unusually tense, and she bit her lip as if in pain. "It's like your fractured skull never healed."