On the trail back to what Max loosely called his “camp,” he spotted something that made him stop in his tracks—a fresh pile of deer droppings.
His pulse quickened.
The buck.
The reason he came out here in the first place. That beast had embarrassed him days ago, and now—with a few battles and a level or two under his belt—Max was ready for a rematch.
He crouched low, inspecting the area. The nearby underbrush was disturbed, and faint hoofprints marked a path leading through the trees. Strangely, the trail curved—not toward where he’d come from, but toward the clearing where this entire twisted adventure had started.
Max followed.
The new route led him on a quiet, winding shortcut through the woods. Moments later, he emerged at the edge of the familiar glade—just behind the ring of brush where he’d first arrived.
And there it was.
The buck stood not ten paces ahead, grazing just outside the clearing. Its coat shimmered subtly in the sunlight, and its antlers looked even more massive than he remembered—gnarled, branching like living ivory.
Max steadied his breath, lowering his stance. Not this time, he thought.
Step by step, he crept around the bushes, inching closer without a sound. Just a little nearer, and he’d have a clean shot. The mana began to build in his hand, the familiar hum of the Mana Bolt skill resonating through his bones.
But just as he raised his hand to cast—the deer bolted.
“Shit!”
His spell fired on instinct, barely grazing the buck’s hind leg. It stumbled mid-stride, clearly limping now, but still fast.
Max broke into a sprint, heart pounding as he hurled spell after spell—fireballs and bolts flying in quick succession, desperate to slow the beast down. Trees whipped past as he gave chase, dodging branches, leaping over roots, feet pounding against the forest floor.
The chase lasted only minutes, but it felt like an hour.
Suddenly, the buck stopped.
Dead still. Its chest heaved with effort—but it no longer looked wounded.
It looked ready.
Max skidded to a halt just a few yards away, raising his staff again—then froze. The air changed. Something pulsed in the earth beneath his feet. A wrongness.
The buck’s antlers began to glow—blinding white, radiant with energy. The very forest seemed to hush in response.
And that’s when Max’s instincts screamed.
No words. No explanation. Just pure, visceral panic.
Move!
He didn’t hesitate. He dove to the side—and a split second later, a beam of searing white light obliterated the space where he’d been standing.
A dozen trees splintered in the beam’s path. Birds scattered in a panic. Smoke rose from the scorched trench carved through the forest floor.
Max rolled to his feet, heart thundering.
“I don’t know how I knew to dodge that,” he muttered, “but… damn.”
He looked at the still-glowing antlers of the buck and swallowed hard.
“Extra stat points be damned. That thing’s on a whole other level.”
The scorched earth still sizzled where the energy beam had cut a burning line through the trees. The buck stood across the clearing, its sides heaving, antlers dimming from their earlier radiance. Whatever that attack had been, it had taken a toll. The beast trembled slightly, its legs stiff beneath it as if its body needed to reboot.
Max didn’t waste the opening.
Mana surged down his arm as he raised his staff and focused. The Mana Bolt skill flared to life, brighter than before. This time he didn’t just charge it—he poured everything he had into it. The glow intensified, the spell growing unstable at the edges but holding together just enough.
If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
“Let’s end this,” he whispered.
With a snap, the spell launched.
The charged bolt screamed through the air and struck the buck square in the chest. The blast detonated in a crack of blue-white energy, tossing the beast backward like a ragdoll. Its body hit the ground with a dull thud, limbs twitching once… then falling still.
Max staggered forward, breath shallow, mana nearly depleted.
He waited.
The buck didn’t move.
System chimes echoed in his mind—rewards pending, experience tallied—but his eyes locked onto something else. Lying in the dirt where the creature had fallen was a small, flawless crystal, glowing faintly with a soft violet hue.
[Item Acquired: Genesis Crystal – Tier 5 (E-Grade)]
Description: A crystallized fragment of raw universal essence.
Use: Can be consumed with a Cultivation Method to enhance level progression.
Alternative Use: Acts as currency across the multiverse. Value increases by tier.
Notes: Tier 5 (E-Grade) is the lowest known tier. Still extremely valuable.
Max crouched down and turned the crystal over in his fingers. It felt… alive. Like it hummed with some deeper truth just out of reach.
“Genesis Crystal…” he said under his breath. “So this is what everyone wants.”
Credits were useful, sure—but this? This was something else entirely. A single shard of energy that could push him further, faster. Or be bartered for who-knew-what in the broader world beyond this island.
His gaze drifted toward the horizon, where the ocean met the shimmering barrier.
Currency, power… maybe even freedom.
Max tucked the crystal carefully into his storage ring.
The Genesis Crystal disappeared with a faint shimmer, but the awe it left behind lingered. Max exhaled slowly, his heart finally easing from its frantic pace.
This hunting trip had started as a grudge match—but it just might’ve turned into a stepping stone to something much, much bigger.
His legs ached. His mana reserves were nearly dry. And as the adrenaline faded, another feeling hit him hard—hunger.
He hadn’t eaten since… what, the first night on the island? The fight with the rats? That felt like days ago.
He turned toward the smoking crater where the buck’s body now lay, its once-glorious antlers dim and lifeless.
“Sorry, buddy,” Max murmured, “but I really need this.”
He worked in silence, using the small dagger he’d looted from the goblins. The blade was dull and chipped, far from ideal, but it got the job done with enough persistence. He knelt beside the fallen creature, grimacing as he gutted it carefully, then began skinning the hide and cutting usable meat into strips. The forest was still, quiet now that the buck’s power no longer pulsed through it.
Blood coated his hands. His stomach growled loud enough to scare off nearby birds.
He wasn’t proud of how messy the process was, but survival didn’t care about elegance. It was raw, real, and necessary. As he wrapped the meat in makeshift bundles, he glanced up at the sky peeking through the canopy overhead.
The stars were starting to return.
Tomorrow would bring more exploring. More leveling. More of this strange, brutal tutorial.
But tonight? Tonight, he’d eat.
As dusk blanketed the forest in cool blues and grays, Max sat by the flickering campfire, the warmth doing little to chase off the damp air that clung to the trees. His so-called camp was barely more than a lean-to—just a rough structure of crooked branches lashed together with twisted vines and covered in patchy layers of leafy debris. A makeshift windbreak, a fire pit scraped into the dirt, and a flat stone he used as a seat. Primitive, but it had kept him alive so far.
Near the fire, he’d fashioned a drying rack from scavenged sticks, wedging them into notches in the ground like a teepee frame. Strips of freshly cut venison hung over the flames, the thin smoke wafting upward in lazy spirals, carrying with it the faint scent of burning pine and seared meat. He turned one piece with a stick and nodded, satisfied.
It’s not gourmet, but it’s food. And it’ll last longer this way.
Without a fridge—or anything remotely close—he knew the meat would spoil within hours if left alone. Jerky was the only smart option.
The deerskin lay nearby, crumpled in a pile. He’d rinsed the blood off in the stream, but the hide still smelled ripe. Max glanced at it and shook his head.
“Yeah… no way I’m turning that into armor,” he muttered. “Thank god for this robe.”
He tugged at the threadbare sleeves. The garment might’ve been a hand-me-down from a wizard’s garage sale, but it was still better than walking around draped in soggy leather.
The fire cracked and popped, the smoke hissing as a fresh log caught. Max leaned back against the side of his shelter, rubbing his eyes. The long day was finally catching up to him—trolls, bucks, Genesis Crystals, and butchered deer. He deserved a few minutes of rest.
His eyelids grew heavy. The chirp of insects and distant rustle of leaves blended with the fire’s lullaby, coaxing him toward sleep.
Just a quick nap…
SNAP.
The sharp crack of a twig tore through the night like a gunshot.
Max’s eyes flew open. In the orange glow of the fire, he saw something—massive jaws, gleaming with saliva, lunging toward him from the dark.
He rolled, just barely avoiding a crushing bite where his leg had been. Dirt flew as claws raked the earth.
Max scrambled to his feet, staff in hand, breath caught in his throat.
At first glance, it looked like a dragon—low to the ground, reptilian, thick and powerful. But there were no wings, and its body was all muscle and scale.
“A freaking dragon?!” he gasped, before he got a better look. “Wait—no… Komodo?”
It hissed, tongue flicking out, and lumbered sideways with unsettling speed.
Max’s blood turned cold.
One bite, he remembered from a hazy Discovery Channel special, was all it took. Not because the thing killed you fast, but because of the bacteria and venom. The dragon didn’t need to finish the job right away—it just needed to bite. Then it would wait. Watch. Follow. Until you were too weak to fight back.
And here it was. Circling him.
Max tightened his grip on his staff.
So much for a good night’s sleep.
