Finally, the day arrived. I stepped into the private locker room, feeling the anticipation settle in my chest. The space was small, white walls gleaming under the overhead lights, with a simple bench against the far wall. On the bench, a body suit lay neatly folded. It was sleek, form-fitting, designed to cover me from neck to toe, with built-in gloves and snug ankle cuffs. When I picked it up, the fabric felt surprisingly light, but I knew better. It was highly sophisticated. Embedded throughout the suit were sensors that would sync with the capsule’s technology, monitoring my physical exertion in Erevos, tracking my body’s vitals and nutritional needs, and stimulating my muscle groups in sync with what was happening in the virtual world. Every ounce of effort would translate into real-world physical development.
I stood in front of the immersion capsule, my heart pounding as I took in the sleek, futuristic design. The glass top reflected the overhead lights, the translucent surface offering a faint view of the interior while still maintaining some semblance of privacy. Technicians moved around me, their calm efficiency doing little to ease my tension.
Climbing into the capsule, I lay back on the padded surface, feeling the coolness of the interior against my skin. A technician placed a mask over my face, a small tube inserted into my throat. After stepping back, the capsule’s lid began to lower slowly, encasing me in a soft, humming cocoon. The light from the room faded, and for a brief moment, all I could hear was my own breathing, the soft whir of the machinery, and the steady beat of my heart. I took a deep breath, trying to remain calm.
The capsule began to fill with the nanite-filled fluid designed to immerse me in the simulation. A sudden wave of panic surged through me, and my heart raced. For a moment, I was tempted to push the lid open and escape, but I reminded myself this was part of the process. This was what I had chosen. The fluid crept up around me, cool and foreign against my skin, heightening the feeling of being trapped. I forced myself to take slow, deliberate breaths, focusing on the fact that this was necessary. A shiver ran through my body as the system calibrated itself, a chill sinking into my skin. But just as quickly, it faded, replaced by a warmth spreading through my limbs, relaxing every muscle.
My vision blurred, and the sounds of the capsule faded into a distant hum.
And then, it was like falling asleep.
For a split second, everything went dark. The last thing I remembered was the feeling of weightlessness, like floating in a vast, empty space.
I woke to the soft rustling of leaves and the distant call of birds. The air smelled fresh, earthy, almost too real. I blinked, the colors around me so vibrant they seemed unreal—like someone had turned up the saturation on reality. When I opened my eyes, I found myself staring up at a pale blue sky, dotted with fluffy white clouds. My mind raced as I tried to make sense of it, but my senses were overwhelmed. It was like stepping into a dream—except this dream was real, in a way I couldn’t yet explain.
I blinked, slowly sitting up and taking in my surroundings. I was lying on soft grass at the edge of a small clearing, surrounded by towering trees whose leaves shimmered in shades of green and gold. A gentle breeze stirred the branches, sending beams of sunlight dancing across the ground. It all seemed too perfect, too pristine. This is Erevos, the thought came unbidden to my mind, though I couldn’t quite remember why the name seemed familiar.
My head felt strange, almost like a fog had settled over my memories. I couldn’t recall where I had come from or why I was here. My mind held only fragmented pieces, vague recollections—nothing solid. It was as though my entire life before this moment had been wiped clean.
I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to steady myself. My thoughts were jumbled, but one thing was clear: I had to move. My instincts told me to survive.
I rose to my feet, glancing down at myself. I was dressed in a simple tunic and trousers made of rough, homespun fabric—like something out of a medieval fantasy. The material was coarse against my skin, sturdy but unremarkable, as though meant for practicality rather than comfort. Beside me lay a small knapsack. I knelt down and opened it, rummaging through its contents. Inside, I found dried fruit and jerky, a waterskin, a thin cloak, a length of rope, some flint, and a knife. The knife was simple and functional—more a tool than a weapon—but having it in my hand brought me a small sense of security. The food would last a couple of days if I rationed it, and the waterskin would sustain me for a day or two, maybe longer.
I glanced around, uncertain of which direction to take. Snow-capped mountains loomed in the distance, and I decided to head in the opposite direction, reasoning that a warmer climate might increase my chances of survival and finding other people. With the sun warming my back, I started walking. The field stretched endlessly before me, an ocean of tall grass with no clear path to follow.
After what seemed like several hours, I found myself at the edge of a forest. The air had cooled now that the sun was setting, and a sense of urgency crept into my thoughts. Night was falling, and my instincts screamed at me to prepare for whatever might come. The knife at my belt was reassuring, but a nagging doubt whispered that it wouldn’t be enough if I were attacked.
I need a better weapon, I thought, my eyes scanning the trees around me. I didn’t know what dangers lurked in the darkening woods, but I knew that relying solely on a small knife was a gamble I couldn’t afford to take.
My gaze settled on a young sapling, slender yet sturdy, standing about the right height for a walking stick. That could work, I mused. With a solid staff, I’d have a much better chance of defending myself, and if I shaped it correctly, it could double as a spear—a weapon with a longer reach and more stopping power.
I approached the sapling and tested its strength. With a firm grip, I drew my knife and began hacking at its base. The sound of the blade striking the wood echoed through the still air, and after a few minutes the sapling came loose. I stripped away the smaller branches and peeled back the bark, leaving a smooth, straight staff that felt surprisingly natural in my hands.
But a staff wasn’t enough. I wanted something more. So, I began sharpening one end of the sapling. I took a step back, admiring my work, turning the makeshift weapon in my hands. Was it a staff? A spear? Or something in between? It felt more like a spear, but it would serve both purposes well. I gripped the weapon tightly and practiced a few thrusts. Then I threw it several times, testing its balance and weight. Something felt slightly off—unbalanced. Frowning, I went back to work, carving away more wood until the weapon finally felt just right.
That’s when something unexpected happened.
As I gripped the spear, a faint glow appeared in the corner of my vision. I blinked, confusion sweeping over me as my heart skipped a beat. The glow grew brighter, and then—without warning—words began to materialize in front of me, floating just beyond the tip of my spear.
[New Skill Acquired: Carving] [New Skill Acquired: Weapon Crafting]
I stumbled back in shock, my eyes wide. The text hung there, solid and unchanging, as though etched into the air itself. I blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. But no matter how hard I stared, the words remained. Panic surged through me, and without thinking, I wished for the text to disappear. To my astonishment, it vanished as if obeying my command.
I sat down hard on the ground, trying to steady my breathing, my heart racing in my chest. What just happened? I thought, my mind scrambling to process the bizarre experience. My pulse slowed, but the confusion remained. Tentatively, I wished for the text to reappear.
This time, a more detailed screen appeared before me, hovering in the air. The words were clearer, more complex:
Name: Ethan Cole
Level: 1
Class: Unavailable
Experience: 2/100 XP
Skills: Carving (1), Weapon Crafting (1)
Strength: 97
Agility: 100
Constitution: 98
Dexterity: 102
Charisma: 100
Intelligence: 104
Wisdom: 105
Perception: 103
Health: 98/98
Stamina: 84/98
Mana: Unavailable
A small experience bar sat at the bottom of the screen, nearly empty, with a thin sliver of blue indicating my minimal progress. I stared at the screen, utterly bewildered. It was like a game menu, but somehow... impossibly, it was real. Right in front of me.
I instinctively reached out to touch the glowing interface, but my hand passed through it as though it wasn’t even there. The text didn’t disappear, didn’t flicker. It stayed perfectly still, waiting for me to process what it was telling me.
Displayed was information about me: my name, my level, my skills, my characteristics, and even my health and stamina status. I didn’t know what Class or Mana meant, nor why they were marked as Unavailable.
A game? Is this a game? The thought spun around in my mind, but I had no context to make sense of any of it. No memory of how I had gotten here, no understanding of the world around me. But this interface, this bizarre notification system, suggested that nothing was as it seemed.
I stood still, my heart still pounding as I stared at the floating text. My mind raced to process the strange information. And then, as I focused harder, something else happened—descriptions started appearing, almost as if the interface was responding to my thoughts.
I focused on one of the stats—Strength. Immediately, a small pop-up appeared beneath it.
[Strength: A measure of your physical power. Strength affects how much you can lift, carry, and the force of your attacks.]
I blinked, the description clear and straightforward. It confirmed what I had already guessed. I moved my attention to Agility.
[Agility: A measure of your reflexes, speed, and balance. Agility affects your ability to dodge, run, and perform acrobatic feats.]
It felt… familiar, yet new. Each of these stats seemed connected to my abilities, but I couldn’t remember ever seeing something like this before. I continued to focus on the others.
[Constitution: A measure of your endurance and physical resilience. Constitution affects your health, stamina, and ability to withstand damage.]
[Dexterity: A measure of your fine motor skills and hand-eye coordination. Dexterity affects your ability to handle tools, craft items, and perform delicate tasks.]
[Charisma: A measure of your social influence and presence. Charisma affects how others perceive you and how persuasive you can be in conversation.]
[Intelligence: A measure of your cognitive ability, problem-solving skills, and knowledge. Intelligence affects the speed at which new skills are learned, and the ability to analyze complex situations.]
[Wisdom: A measure of your judgment and insight. Wisdom affects your ability to make sound decisions and understand the world around you.]
[Perception: A measure of your awareness and attentiveness. Perception affects your ability to notice details in your environment, detect hidden objects or traps, and sense danger.]
[Health: A measure of your physical condition. At full health, your body is in peak condition, but as it decreases, so does your ability to function. If your Health falls below 10, you will be incapacitated, and if it reaches zero, you will die. The size of your health pool is influenced by Constitution and Strength.]
[Stamina: A measure of your energy reserves and endurance. Every physical action you take—running, climbing, or fighting—depletes your Stamina. When it runs low, you will begin to feel fatigued, and at zero, your physical performance will be drastically reduced. Stamina is influenced by Strength, Agility, and Constitution.]
[Mana: A measure of your pool of magical energy. Mana is used to cast spells and perform certain special abilities. The size of the mana pool is influenced by Intelligence and Wisdom.]
The descriptions were clear and concise, each one appearing in my vision just long enough to grasp the essentials before fading away. I couldn’t fully wrap my mind around the significance of it all, but the explanations provided enough context to suggest these metrics were critical. I wasn’t simply fighting to survive out here—my physical and mental attributes were being tracked and quantified, each represented by a numerical score. From what I could gather, a score of 100 seemed to signify an average benchmark, but average compared to what? I found some comfort in seeing that most of my scores were at or above average, though my strength and constitution lagged behind. The real question nagging at me was whether these numbers could be improved—and if so, how?
I thought about the description for Mana. It mentioned magical energy and casting spells. That sure sounded exciting, though if I could learn magic then that meant others could use magic against me as well.
I wondered what "Class" meant, and with that thought, text appeared on the screen:
[Class: A person’s Class defines their role, abilities, and progression path. Each Class comes with its own set of strengths, weaknesses, and special abilities that shape how you interact with the world and other people. Classes often have branching paths, allowing for specialization into advanced classes.]
I began to grasp the significance of the concept. The idea of a "Class" wasn’t just about a title or a job; it was a fundamental part of who I could become. It would dictate not only how I fought or survived but also how I evolved and what paths I could take as I progressed. For now, I needed to focus on survival. But knowing that this system existed, that it tracked me so precisely, made me even more curious about this strange world.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
I let out a slow breath, my gaze fixed on the fading screen until it vanished, leaving only the quiet wilderness around me. The rustling leaves and distant bird calls resumed, but the world no longer felt familiar. Everything had shifted, like a veil had been lifted to reveal just how strange and unsettling my reality had become.
I stood there for a moment, gripping the spear tightly in my hands. I didn’t understand what was happening, but one thing was certain: I was in a world that somehow was connected to me like a game. The strange interface had given me the first hint of the rules I was playing by—rules I hadn’t known existed until now.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the air grew colder. With no proper shelter available, I made a quick decision. I’ll have to sleep in a tree. I scanned the area and found a large, sturdy tree with thick branches. Cautiously, I climbed up, testing each branch to make sure it could hold my weight.
Eventually, I settled on a broad branch about ten feet off the ground. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was high enough to give me some protection from whatever might wander below. I took the rope from my knapsack and wrapped it around the trunk, securely fastening myself to the tree so I wouldn’t fall during the night. I ate sparingly from my meager supplies and sipped some water. Leaning my back against the trunk, I pulled my cloak tightly around myself, drawing my knees to my chest.
I glanced upward, noticing the faint glow of the moon emerging against the darkening sky. Its light was pale, barely illuminating the landscape, but it was enough for me to make out the silhouettes of the trees and the uneven terrain of the forest floor. The wind picked up slightly, rustling the leaves around me, causing the branch to sway ever so gently. I shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a position that didn’t make my muscles ache or risk me losing my balance. My body was tense, every noise in the forest below making me hyper-aware of my vulnerability. Sleep would not come easily tonight. The cold gnawed at me, biting through my cloak, and sleep only came in short, fitful bursts.
As dawn finally began to creep over the horizon, I let out a long, tired sigh. My muscles were stiff from the awkward position I had slept in, and the cold had left me exhausted. I survived the night, I thought grimly. But just barely. With aching limbs, I slowly climbed down from the tree, my feet hitting the forest floor with a quiet thud. I glanced around, thankful that nothing had disturbed me during the night.
My thoughts began to focus on the tasks ahead. Survival was my immediate priority—I needed to secure food, water, and a more reliable shelter. I also needed to get a better sense of my surroundings, maybe find a higher vantage point to survey the land and see if there were any nearby settlements or signs of civilization. I had to start understanding the rules of this strange world—how it operated and what my stats meant.
With my spear in hand, I started walking. The forest was dense, sunlight filtering through the canopy in patches. As I walked, I moved cautiously, my spear held loosely in one hand, my senses on high alert. The trees provided plenty of cover, and the ground was soft underfoot, muffling my steps. I began to notice small details—the rustling of animals in the underbrush, the faint chirping of insects, the distant murmur of water.
Water. That was something I needed soon as my waterskin was half empty. I started following the sound of the water. Movement ahead caught my attention. There, not more than ten paces away, was a rabbit. A small, plump creature with soft gray fur, sitting on its haunches as it nibbled on some type of berry. This could be exactly what I needed—a quick meal to sustain me through the day.
The rabbit watched me as I slowly raised the spear. With a quick, fluid motion, I launched the spear toward it. But just as I released it, the rabbit bolted, leaping into the underbrush with surprising speed.
Disappointed that I had missed, I examined the berry bushes where the rabbit had been feeding. The small, dark berries looked tempting, but I was cautious. I bent down, inspecting them closely. The rabbit had been eating these berries, so they were likely safe, but I couldn’t be sure. Carefully, I plucked a single berry and popped it into my mouth, chewing slowly. The taste was slightly tart but not unpleasant. I waited for a few moments, listening to my body for any signs of trouble. When nothing happened, I began gathering more of the berries, storing them in my knapsack for later.
After a short walk, the stream came into view, a ribbon of clear water cutting through the forest. I approached it with a sense of relief—fresh water was a precious resource. Kneeling by the water’s edge, I cupped my hands and splashed the cool water over my face, washing away the dirt and sweat from the morning’s trek. I then took out my waterskin, dipping it into the stream to refill it. I took a moment to drink deeply from the stream, savoring the coolness as it soothed my dry throat.
Which way should I go? I thought, weighing my options. I knew streams often led to larger bodies of water, and where there was water, there was often civilization—villages, towns, or at least some sign of human activity. If there’s anyone out here, they’ll be near water, I reasoned. The thought of finding people, of not being entirely alone in this unfamiliar world, was enough to sway my decision. With a final glance upstream, I turned and began to follow the stream downstream, moving cautiously along its bank.
For the next couple of hours, I followed the stream as it wound its way through the forest. The sound of the water became my constant companion, a reassuring guide as I navigated the uneven terrain. The stream's course wasn't straight; it twisted and turned, sometimes narrowing between large rocks, other times widening into shallow pools where the water flowed more slowly.
A low, guttural grunting suddenly cut through the forest stillness. I halted, every muscle tensed, listening intently. The sound was unmistakable—something large was lumbering through the underbrush nearby.
Lowering myself into a crouch, I crept forward with painstaking caution, my spear held tightly in my grip. The grunts grew louder, more defined, until I finally caught sight of the creature through the dense foliage. It was a massive, boar-like beast, rooting around near a fallen log. Unlike anything I had ever seen, its hulking frame was covered in coarse, dark bristles, and long, curved tusks jutted out from its lower jaw. Its muscular build radiated raw power, and each movement seemed to ripple with barely contained ferocity.
My pulse quickened as I watched. This wasn’t a rabbit or harmless game—this was a real, dangerous opponent. But the payoff would be immense: enough meat to sustain me for days, maybe weeks, if I could manage to preserve it.
I need to do this right, I told myself. A single mistake could be fatal.
Keeping low, I began to circle the creature, mindful of staying downwind to mask my scent. The beast seemed oblivious, engrossed in tearing up roots and vegetation. Each deliberate step brought me closer, the forest floor silent beneath my cautious tread. My eyes never left the creature, and I carefully measured my breathing to keep my presence concealed.
Finally, I was within striking distance. The boar's broad back remained turned, its head buried in the undergrowth. This was the moment. I inhaled deeply to steady my nerves, raising my spear and aiming for the spot behind its front leg, where its heart should be.
With a sudden surge of determination, I lunged, driving the spear forward with all my strength. The weapon struck true, piercing the beast’s thick hide and sinking deep into its side. The creature erupted in a deafening squeal of agony, bucking and thrashing violently. I twisted the spear, trying to push it deeper, but the beast's strength was overwhelming. It reared up and crashed into me, sending me sprawling across the forest floor.
Pain flared through my body as I collided with the ground, my vision briefly blurring. A sharp notification flickered before my eyes:
[Health: -32]
I groaned, my ribs throbbing. The boar, though grievously wounded, fought with frenzied desperation. With a wild surge, it tore free of the spear, and I was thrown again, skidding across the forest floor and struggling to breathe. Blood gushed from the gaping wound in its side, and the beast stumbled, its movements growing erratic.
I dragged myself up, limbs aching and lungs heaving. I reclaimed my spear, my hands trembling from the adrenaline. The creature was weakening, but it was still alive, its labored breaths growing fainter. I have to end this, I thought. The noise of the struggle could draw predators, and I couldn’t risk the beast regaining strength.
With grim determination, I stepped forward. I lifted the spear high and drove it into the creature’s neck, putting every ounce of remaining energy into the strike. The boar gave one last, pitiful grunt before collapsing, its body finally still.
I stood over the fallen creature, gasping for breath, my heart still racing from the ordeal. My hands shook from the adrenaline as I took in the scene, the forest once again settling into a wary quiet.
A soft glow appeared in my vision:
[New Skill Acquired: Hunting]
My experience bar surged forward, now a third of the way to the next level. I allowed myself a brief glance at the notification, but the dull ache in my ribs pulled me back to reality. That was too close, I thought, exhaling shakily.
The creature was massive, and I knew skinning and butchering it with my limited tools would be no small feat. I knelt beside the fallen beast, using my knife to cut through the thick hide. Progress was slow, the bristly, tough skin resisting every attempt. My inexperience was clear as I struggled to make clean cuts.
As I worked, my mind raced with practical thoughts. I needed to preserve the meat. The damaged hide could be repurposed for armor or a makeshift shelter, while the tusks might serve as tools or weapons. Despite my original plan to travel further before making camp, I realized I needed to find shelter soon. The fresh kill would attract predators, and I had to cook or preserve the meat before nightfall.
I managed to cut several large chunks of meat, enough to sustain me for days. Regretfully, I had to leave the rest behind, including the tusks, a painful but necessary decision. I bundled the meat in the boar’s hide, tying it securely with rope to create a heavy makeshift pack. Slinging it over my shoulder alongside my knapsack, I grabbed my spear and prepared to move, eyes scanning for a safe place to rest.
As I continued following the stream, my eyes caught sight of something in the distance—a small cliff, its rocky face rising above the forest floor. It wasn’t much, but it might provide some shelter for the night. As I approached, the terrain became rockier, and the trees thinned out slightly, giving me a clearer view of the area. The cliff itself wasn’t particularly tall—perhaps twenty or thirty feet—but it was steep and rugged, with jagged rocks jutting out at odd angles. I began to circle the base, searching for any indentation or hollow that might serve as a suitable campsite.
After a few minutes of careful exploration, my gaze fell upon something promising—a narrow, shadowed opening in the cliffside, almost hidden by a tangle of vines and underbrush. I pushed the vegetation aside, revealing a small entrance to a cave. The opening was just wide enough for me to squeeze through, and as I peered inside, I saw that the interior seemed to expand into a larger chamber beyond the narrow entrance. The air inside the cave was cool and still, with only a sliver of light from the entrance illuminating the first few feet. Beyond that, everything was shrouded in darkness.
I dropped my things just outside the entrance and began scouring the ground, gathering small, dry sticks and twigs, along with a few larger branches. I arranged the kindling in a small pile near the entrance, hoping the breeze wouldn’t blow it out before it caught. My flint was rough and chipped, but serviceable. Kneeling down, I struck the flint against my knife, sending a shower of sparks over the twigs. Nothing. Starting the fire was harder than I expected. My hands shook from exhaustion as I struck the flint again, sending sparks over the kindling. The sparks sputtered and died out, leaving me frustrated.
Come on, I muttered under my breath, striking the flint again. More sparks, but no flame. I tried again and again, each attempt only adding to my frustration. How do people do this?
Finally, a small ember caught in the dry twigs. I held my breath, gently blowing on it until it grew into a small flame. I added more twigs, then carefully fed larger pieces of wood into the fire until the flames crackled and grew brighter.
With the fire going, I could focus on preparing my meal. I glanced around and spotted a relatively flat rock, which I cleaned with water from my waterskin and then placed in the fire to start heating up. I placed the meat on the stone, lamenting that I didn’t have any salt or spices to better preserve the meat.
As I sat by the fire, my gaze landed on the boar’s hide. My attempt at scraping it had left the hide rough and uneven, patches of fat still glistening across its surface. Noticing its potential, I cut off a section, wrapped it tightly around a sturdy stick, and fashioned a crude torch.
Holding the lit torch in front of me, I entered the cave. The flames cast eerie shadows across the walls, but the light was enough to guide me. As I turned slowly to peer at each part of the cave, the torchlight revealed a small, recessed chamber, hidden from view until now. I stepped inside, my heart pounding slightly as my eyes adjusted to the dim space.
Then I saw them—runes. Etched into the stone, ancient symbols lined the rough walls, faint yet undeniably deliberate. I ran my fingers over the carvings, feeling the slight grooves left by whoever had painstakingly inscribed them ages ago. The symbols were unfamiliar, their meanings obscured by time, but there was a certain energy about them, as if they held secrets just waiting to be unlocked.
But that wasn’t all. I spotted a small stone pedestal in the center of the chamber. On top of the pedestal lay a carved black stone, smooth and etched with runes that glowed faintly in the torchlight. I felt a pull toward it, as though the stone was calling out to me.
I reached out and picked up the stone. As soon as my fingers touched it, the runes on its surface flared brightly, and a surge of energy pulsed through me. I gasped, staggering back as the torch flickered.
The energy faded, but the stone remained warm in my hand. As the torch started to dim, I pocketed the stone for later study.
Later, with the meat cooked, I began to eat. It wasn’t much, but the taste was satisfying, and it filled me with a sense of accomplishment. I had hunted, cooked, and provided for myself. Alongside the meat, I ate more of the berries I had found earlier, their tartness a sharp contrast to the savory meal. I washed it down with water from my waterskin.
After finishing my meal, I knew I needed to preserve the remaining boar meat. With no refrigeration, smoking was my best option. I pulled out my knife and carefully began slicing the remaining portions of meat into thin strips, making sure to cut against the grain to ensure they would dry properly. The meat was tough, but my knife held up well enough. Once I had a good pile of strips, I moved the meat to the edge of the fire, where I began constructing a makeshift smoking rack from the remaining branches I had gathered earlier.
I set the strips up on the rack, hanging them close enough to the fire so that the heat would dry the meat without cooking it too quickly. Then, I gathered some damp leaves and twigs, using them to create a smoky haze around the meat. The fire crackled in the background, but I kept an eye on the meat, adjusting the distance to ensure it didn’t burn. Slowly, the strips began to darken and firm up, and the smell of smoked meat filled the air. I let the strips dry for several hours, checking occasionally to ensure they wouldn’t spoil. By nightfall, I had a decent stockpile of preserved boar meat that would last for several days—maybe longer—if I could keep it dry and cool.
Staring into the flames, the heat of the fire warming my face, I considered the events of the day. This world... it’s so strange. My memories felt like they only stretched back to the day before, like everything before that was a foggy blur. Who am I? Why do I only remember arriving here? The questions nagged at me, but there were no answers—not yet, at least. The warmth of the fire was soothing, but it couldn’t fully distract me from the dull ache in my arm. I still felt the pain from the earlier fight, my body reminding me of the bruises and scrapes I'd sustained. Even as I sat there, though, I noticed that the pain wasn’t as sharp as before. I flexed my sore muscles slightly and winced, but it was clear—I was healing.
With a thought, the interface flickered to life again, floating in front of me. I stared at it, drawn to the numbers that told me more about myself than I remembered knowing.
Name: Ethan Cole
Level: 1
Experience: 38/100 XP
Skills: Hunting (1), Cooking (1), Carving (1), Weapon Crafting (1)
Strength: 97
Agility: 100
Constitution: 98
Dexterity: 102
Charisma: 100
Intelligence: 104
Wisdom: 105
Perception: 103
Health: 327/345
Stamina: 265/297
Mana: Unavailable
My gaze fixed on my health bar first. Earlier, I'd taken a nasty hit from the boar, and my health had dipped by 32 points. Now, it was only 18 points below full. I’m recovering, I thought. Slowly, but it was definitely happening. The world felt real, but the way it healed me... it was like this place had systems for everything—like it had its own rules, a way to keep me alive even after taking a hit like that. That was a relief. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about every injury being a permanent setback.
I moved my eyes across the stats. Strength, Agility, Constitution... They weren't random numbers. They meant something. Every number here seemed like it was tied to my physical and mental capacity. And yet, a part of me couldn’t help but wonder how I could improve them. Could more hunting and fighting increase my strength or agility? Would exploring and making decisions help me grow my wisdom or sharpen my perception?
A hundred questions raced through my mind. This wasn’t just some random list. It was a blueprint for how I’d survive, evolve, and even thrive in Erevos. I wasn’t sure how all of this worked, but one thing was for certain—every choice I made here would impact these stats. The way I lived in this world would shape me in ways I couldn’t yet fully understand.
The thought gave me a sense of purpose, a flicker of clarity in the chaos. If this world functioned on principles like skills, experience, and progression, then surviving wasn’t enough. The key to surviving here, to thriving, was in improving—becoming stronger, smarter, faster.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the rune stone, feeling its cool surface against my fingertips. The faint glow from the runes pulsed softly in the firelight, their intricate symbols pulling me in. But there was something about it—something that made me feel connected to it. It was as though it was meant for me, like it held a piece of something important, something I needed to unlock.
With that thought lingering, I glanced around to make sure my spear was within reach. I pulled my cloak tighter around my shoulders and settled into my spot by the fire. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new ways to test my strength. But for now, I allowed myself a moment to rest. The crackling fire warmed me, and as the night stretched on, my eyelids grew heavy. Slowly, I drifted off, letting the warmth and the sounds of the wilderness lull me into a deep, peaceful sleep.
