Hope steadied his breath as he crept toward the river.

  He passed some weird, flat, damn big grass along the way—or maybe they were tiny trees? Hard to tell with this freaky place.

  He ignored it and found a decent spot with a clean view of the cliff, the waterfall, and everything around.

  He crouched low in the shadow of a tree, burying himself in the tall grass. Then he waited.

  Minutes crawled by. Nothing.

  Maybe the bastard went another way?

  Still, Hope waited a few more minutes, just in case—and then—

  A twitch. A blade of grass on the far side of the river shifted—too sharp, too sudden to be the wind.

  There you are—no, wait a second.

  ID: 618350

  Level 13

  That ID… it wasn’t the same. Neither was the level.

  Hope narrowed his eyes. Not the furry guy.

  A girl—with a weird body shape, wide flat chest and all.

  She kept pacing around, nosing through shrubs, sniffing at the air, crunching twigs like she didn’t give a damn. Amateur. Even he could tell that footwork was garbage.

  Clumsy-ass creep’s gonna get herself killed makin’ that—

  Thwack!

  A sharp crack echoed across the air as a jagged rock smashed into her temple.

  She dropped instantly.

  Hope blinked.

  Shit…

  He scanned the treeline. Nothing—wait…

  There!

  ID: 383185

  Level 14

  The rock-chucking, backstabbing freak from before.

  Hope’s jaw tightened as he watched one of the furry bastards close in on the fallen girl. She twitched, blood spilling from her forehead, one arm trembling as she pushed herself up, fingers clawing at the dirt.

  The bastard dashed forward, rock raised high to smash her skull.

  But she spun—low and fast!

  A sweep kick caught him clean across the legs, sending him tumbling sideways with a grunt. He rolled, tried to scramble up again.

  Too late.

  She was already on him.

  She straddled his chest and rammed what looked like a sharpened bone straight into the side of his neck. There was a sickening crunch.

  The boy’s body jolted violently. His hands scrambled, grabbing at her arms, at the bone, at the air—at nothing.

  A wet, gurgling sound bubbled out of his throat, thick and messy. Blood sprayed upward in dark spurts, coating her arms, her chest, his own face.

  His eyes widened, then froze. Fingers slackened. His head slumped to the side.

  And just like that… he was dead.

  Hope watched as the display showing the boy’s ID and Level blinked out. Meanwhile, the girl’s Level jumped from 13 to 14.

  He clenched his jaw.

  He didn’t like what he saw.

  Wasn’t the first time he’d seen someone get killed—not by a long shot—but still... that shit didn’t sit right. Killing just for a damn level up? Come on. Go stab a bunch of Grathens. Easier. Safer. You don’t gotta take a life for that.

  Just… dammit.

  Still, the girl was in the right here. Glad she won. Karma got the backstabbing freak clean.

  Hope stayed put a bit longer, watching. The girl was too hurt to move. She’d crawled to a tree, resting her bleeding head against the trunk, breath shaky.

  Yeah... no one here could be underestimated. He’d have to stay sharper from now on.

  Quiet as he could, Hope made his way back. Every step timed with the roar of the river to cover the sound.

  And just like that, he disappeared into the grass and trees—heading back to Eve.

  “Let’s go.”

  She didn’t ask any questions and just stood up and followed him.

  Hope liked that aspect of Eve. Sometimes she… no, she was a bit… no, she was a total freak, but she was kind of a good freak. Like, said in a good way. Yeah.

  Hope didn’t let his guard down along the way.

  After being ‘carefree’ in the Grathen region for a day or two, this new zone felt packed with murderhobo Crawlers. Or maybe he was just unlucky now. Lucky before?

  Either way, he stayed alert. Spear in hand. Steps quiet.

  And then he noticed something.

  Eve didn’t make a sound. Not a damn one. Heck, she might’ve been even better than him at hiding noise. The fuck?

  He glanced over his shoulder.

  She just tilted her head and smiled like she’d read his thoughts.

  Right. Old rule: don’t try to explain what Eve does or how she does it.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  They kept moving through the jungle, sliding under branches and stepping between fat roots until—

  Hope raised his arm, indicating Eve to stop… not that he really needed to.

  He calmed his breath and listened.

  Something moved through the tall grass, and… it was not a Crawler.

  Heavy. Big. Four legs.

  Hope crouched low and crept forward, slipping behind a thick trunk. He peeked out from the side.

  And there it was.

  Talgaran

  Level 18

  It prowled between the trees like it owned the damn jungle. Smooth black fur rippled over muscle, patterned with dark grey stripes that shimmered as it moved—barely noticeable until the light caught 'em right.

  Shoulders wide as a log. Tail twitching like a whip. Eyes sharp.

  Its head was long, jaw squared like stone, fangs just peeking past its lip. Each step landed soft but heavy. Paws spread with weight, claws clicking once against a rock before sliding back into the fur like sheathed knives.

  It was a bit smaller than the Grathens, but Hope knew from the Level it was much stronger. Probably much faster too.

  He didn’t like how sharp those claws looked.

  Well… he’d seen what happened if he couldn’t keep up. He needed strength to stay ahead. So… sorry big fella, but—

  He didn’t think twice.

  He broke into a sprint straight at it. No point trying to sneak up—he’d never make it close without being seen anyway. Might as well go loud.

  The beast’s head snapped toward him.

  It crouched low, muscles tensing, tail stiff behind it.

  Hope gripped his spear tight, boots pounding the dirt, dodging between roots and thick grass. He veered right, then left, trying to throw off its charge—but the fucker didn’t move yet. It was waiting. Smart bastard.

  Five meters left.

  Hope feinted right again, then hurled a small rock with his off-hand—straight at its face.

  That did it.

  The Talgaran lunged.

  It was a blur. A damn shadow with claws.

  Hope barely twisted aside in time, feeling the wind as it passed, the claws grazing his shoulder and slightly tearing his skin. He dropped low, rolled, and came up with the spear forward.

  Thrust!

  The point skimmed the side of its neck but didn’t pierce deep—just enough to make it snarl and leap back, tail lashing.

  “Didn’t like that, huh?”

  No answer, obviously, just another low growl as it circled.

  Hope backed toward a tree. Spear ready. He didn’t stand a chance in open ground.

  The Talgaran darted forward again—fast, too fast.

  Hope sidestepped, slammed the spear shaft into a tree trunk to anchor, using it to vault sideways. He barely avoided the swipe, landing on one knee, jabbing upward as it passed. Got the belly this time—not deep, but it bled.

  The beast wheeled with a roar, tail whipping, catching Hope square in the side. He flew sideways, crashed through a bush, rolled through mud and roots.

  “Fuck—!”

  He scrambled up, barely dodged another pounce by diving between two thick trees. The beast slammed into one, bark exploding.

  Hope staggered up, panting hard. His hands were shaking.

  Think fast.

  He baited the thing near a thicket of low branches and sharp rocks. Then sprinted in a wide circle, forcing the creature to follow, pushing it toward uneven terrain.

  It didn’t care. It just chased him.

  Hope jumped over a log, ducked under a hanging vine, then spun and stabbed as it came through the tight gap.

  The spearhead rammed into its shoulder—finally deep.

  It roared and shook, but Hope let go, knowing better than to get dragged. He dove to the side, grabbed a rock, and smashed it into the beast’s rear leg when it passed him.

  Snarl. Swipe. Dodge. Mud everywhere.

  He kicked upward, caught its chin. It staggered.

  Hope dove for the spear still buried in its flesh, yanked it free, and with both hands rammed it again—this time into the chest, just under the ribs.

  A sick crunch. Blood spilled hot across his hands.

  The beast slumped forward, tried to claw once more—but Hope twisted the spear with a grunt and stepped back.

  It trembled.

  Then dropped.

  Panting, Hope wiped sweat and blood off his face.

  “That was tense,” he muttered. “Should’ve just played dead or somethin’…”

  But he smiled through it as the system prompts appeared.

  Level 15 ? 16

  ?? Close-Quarter Combat (Level 5)

  Instinctive adaptations for tight engagements.

  ? 25% reduction in stamina drain during close quarter combat.

  ? +60 Physis permanently.

  Nice!

  He did a few light hops on his toes, feeling the change in his body. Every boost somehow settled in like it’d always been there. Weird stuff.

  He gave the big dead creature a look.

  Its name was spelled Talgaran. He’d have to ask Eve how to pronounce that.

  His shoulder stung a bit, and his ribs ached. He looked down and noticed the bruise spreading purple. Not good—but not too bad either.

  He crouched down and gave the injury some time to heal, chatting with Eve and wondering how this one would taste cooked over a fire.

  Minutes passed as the purplish colour on his ribs receded, and he could move without that annoying pain. He gripped his trusty spear and resumed his march through the jungle with just a bit more confidence, now that he knew what he was dealing with.

  Didn’t take long before he spotted another one. Big, slow tail, twitchy ears.

  For all it counted, most of these jungle freaks had quite the presence—smooth steps, all elegant and imposing… but yeah, didn’t help much when a spear tore through their side.

  Level 16 ? 17

  He grinned at the screen, then glanced at his spear.

  The new rock tip was way better than the old wooden one. That stick had held up when it counted—saved his ass more than once—but this one? This one actually stuck into things. Didn’t bounce off. Sharp, dense, rough at the edges—dug into muscle and didn’t let go easy.

  Bit of a pain to craft and shape the rock, yeah. But still—worth it.

  He gave it a little twirl in his hand and kept going.

  Unlike in the last region, where he’d taken his time hunting Grathens, this time he stuck to a single direction—north from the waterfall. Straight and no deviations. The goal was to hit the next region quick and stay ahead of whatever pack of Crawlers might be sniffing around behind him. Creatures here were nasty, sure, but humans? Yeah… like Mano used to say, they could be the worst kind of animal out there.

  On the way, he kept hunting. Spear flashing, feet shifting, rhythm tighter each time. Every fight was a chance to refine the moves. Eve had called it “spearmanship” once—some fancy word that sounded like a mix of spear, man, and ship. Weird combo. But cool. He liked it.

  And like that, his hunt went on—no major mishaps, just a few cuts and bruises here and there.

  Level 17 ? 18

  Level 18 ? 19

  He noticed the fights were getting less tiring as his level increased. Eve said it was because his stamina went up in line with his Physis, and also something about skills that cut down stamina drain. Apparently, the higher it got, the longer he could last without food or sleep.

  Good stuff. Not that he’d skip a cooked piece of meat for anything, though.

  Hope made his way further north, weaving through the thick jungle and the big leaves he now knew were called ferns. It was a very lively place, the jungle—even if the introduction to it had been rather bloody for his taste. But as he went on, he kind of liked the green, the humid air, the sparkling things in the air, and… wait a second.

  Sparkling things?

  Hope stopped suddenly and focused on it.

  That wasn’t there before, was it?

  He stared around and noticed more of it. What the heck was—

  ??Magika Sensing (Level 1)

  Magika leaves fingerprints on the world. You’ve learned to spot the smudges.

  ? 5% increase in Magika perception.