Clay's eyes burned with exhaustion as he trudged through the thick jungle. The air felt dense and oppressive, the humidity clinging to his skin like a wet blanket. His muscles ached, and his mind struggled to focus on anything other than the growing emptiness in his stomach. The battle with the wild beasts earlier had taken more out of him than he had anticipated. His Domination skill had barely been enough to assert control over the creatures, and though he had claimed victory, the effort left him drained. He didn't have the energy to hunt for food now.
The Appraiser skill had given him some useful insights into the various plants around him, but nothing that seemed immediately edible or safe. He'd learned to be cautious about what he ate in this world. Even the smallest mistake could cost him his life.
The jungle around him was eerily quiet, almost as though it were holding its breath. His senses were heightened, his body on alert, but fatigue dulled his instincts. Every step felt like a burden, each movement weighed down by the relentless exhaustion that seemed to seep into his bones. The sky above was a patchwork of light and shadow, the sun filtered through the thick canopy of trees.
Clay paused for a moment to drink from a stream that snaked through the jungle floor. The cool water soothed his parched throat, but the sense of unease that had been gnawing at him only grew stronger. Something wasn't right. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched, as though eyes were trained on his every movement.
He tried to push the thought out of his mind. There was no time for paranoia. He had to keep moving, keep surviving.
As he stood up, wiping the water from his mouth, a strange sensation washed over him—an unnatural chill in the air that seemed to ripple through the jungle. It was subtle at first, just a faint disturbance in the atmosphere. But then it grew, spreading like a wave. His senses went into overdrive as a soft, ethereal breeze began to stir the leaves around him.
Clay's heart rate quickened. This wasn't the usual movement of the wind. Something was different. He instinctively reached for the weapon at his side, his hand tightening around the hilt of the sword, though his body screamed in protest.
"Clay…"
The voice cut through the stillness like a blade, clear and unmistakable. It was soft, yet carried a weight that made the very air vibrate. Clay froze, his hand instinctively dropping to his side as his heart skipped a beat.
"Clay…" the voice repeated, this time filled with a warmth that made him shiver despite the heat of the jungle.
His breath hitched in his throat. He knew that voice. He knew it well, though he had heard it only once before.
"Sarah?" he whispered, almost disbelieving. He turned around, scanning the jungle, but there was no one there. The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, filling the air around him like a melody only he could hear.
The breeze swirled around him, carrying a faint scent of flowers—sweet and delicate, yet impossibly distant. He couldn't make sense of it. Was he imagining things? Had his mind finally snapped from the pressure of this unfamiliar world?
"Clay…" the voice spoke again, this time closer, more insistent.
Clay's gaze snapped to his left. There, emerging from the mist that had gathered around him, was a figure. At first, his exhausted mind couldn't process what he was seeing. His vision blurred, his mind struggling to make sense of it. But then, it became clear.
Standing before him was Sarah Quinn—the woman who had appeared briefly to him in the early days of his reincarnation. She had vanished from his life just as quickly as she had appeared, leaving him with nothing but the memory of her enigmatic presence.
Her long, dark hair flowed around her like a silken veil, catching the light in a way that made it shimmer. Her eyes, deep and filled with both wisdom and sadness, met his. She was clothed in a flowing gown, the fabric appearing delicate yet unruffled by the jungle's harshness. There was no trace of dirt or exhaustion on her, no sign of the struggle that Clay had grown so accustomed to in this brutal world.
"Sarah?" he asked, his voice trembling. It felt impossible, yet there she was, standing before him as though she had never left. "How… how are you here? What's going on?"
Sarah stepped closer, her expression softening, but her eyes were filled with a seriousness that gave her an air of authority. "I've been watching you, Clay. I couldn't leave you to face this world alone."
Clay's mind was racing, trying to process what was happening. "But… you disappeared. You were gone, and I didn't know where you went. Why are you here now?"
She smiled faintly, her gaze distant for a moment. "I couldn't reveal myself before. You weren't ready. But now, things have changed. You've reached a point where you need help, and I'm here to provide it."
Clay's heart was still hammering in his chest, but the fog of confusion began to lift. "Help? What kind of help? I'm not sure what you mean. I'm just trying to survive."
"You're doing more than surviving," she replied, her tone gentle but firm. "You're growing. You're learning. But you're also struggling, Clay. You've been alone for too long, trying to make sense of everything. You need guidance, and that's why I'm here."
Clay opened his mouth to protest, but no words came out. The truth of her words hit him like a wave. He had been alone in this strange world, trying to navigate it with nothing but his wits and the skills he had been granted. His Appraiser skill had given him some insight, and his Domination skill had helped him survive, but there was so much he didn't understand. He had no allies, no real direction—just the instinct to keep moving forward.
"Why now?" he finally asked. "Why are you revealing yourself to me after all this time?"
Sarah took a step closer, her presence comforting, yet her words held an undeniable weight. "Because you're ready, Clay. You've reached a critical point. The challenges ahead will test everything you've learned. You can't face them alone."
Clay shook his head, frustration creeping in. "But I've made it this far on my own. I've survived, and I'll keep doing so. I don't need anyone's help."
Sarah's eyes softened with understanding. "You've survived, yes. But surviving isn't enough. You can be more than just a survivor, Clay. You can thrive. But you'll need others to help you along the way."
Clay stared at her, his mind racing. He didn't want to admit it, but a part of him knew she was right. The jungle, this world—everything was so much bigger than him. He had come so far, but was he truly equipped to face the dangers ahead?
"What are you offering me, then?" he asked, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him.
"I'm offering you knowledge," Sarah replied. "I'm offering you the chance to become something more than you are now. You don't have to face this world alone, Clay. There are others—others who can help you, just as I can."
Her words rang in his ears, and for the first time, Clay allowed himself to consider the possibility of something beyond mere survival. He had spent so much time alone, trying to make sense of his circumstances. But perhaps Sarah was right. Perhaps there was more to this world than what he had been able to see.
He took a deep breath, his mind finally clearing. "Alright," he said, his voice steady. "I'm ready. Teach me. Show me what I need to know."
Sarah smiled warmly, stepping closer until they were almost within arm's reach. "Good. We'll take this one step at a time, Clay. Together."