The chilling realization that these noises might belong to predators lurking nearby sent a wave of terror through me. In a knee-jerk reaction, I almost killed myself trying to save my own life. My grip failed, and I tumbled from my perch, only to be abruptly halted by the rope tied around me. Yet, the knot, an amateurish creation, began to give way under my weight, leaving me swinging precariously close to danger. My desperate flailing only accelerated my situation. With every ounce of strength, I managed to seize the branch again, clinging for dear life, my heart pounding with fear and indecision over my next move.

  “Drop another point into strength.” Rabbit's voice cut through the tension.

  Without hesitation, I accessed my character page and allocated a point to Strength, feeling a surge of power coursing through my veins.

  “I don't think I can make it up. More strength?” I gasped, seeking Rabbit's guidance.

  “No. Don't you dare! You're strong enough as it is. You need to believe in yourself. Fail, and you'll never hear the end of it from me,” Rabbit retorted, his tone laced with an unusual seriousness.

  His frustration puzzled me. Did he believe in me more than I believed in myself? That thought sparked a newfound determination within me that I had held back before. I was cautious not to exhaust all my strength in a single effort, fearing that depleting my energy might leave me unable to cling on and ultimately lead to a fall. But then, fueled by Rabbit's faith in me, I resolved to give it my all.

  Gritting my teeth, I pulled with renewed vigor, managing to hook my leg over the branch. Using every muscle in my back, I heaved myself upward, inching closer to safety. Finally, with full commitment, I swung my other arm over the branch, ignoring the biting pain from the coarse bark as I dragged myself to safety atop my former resting spot. That was too close. A misstep from this height could have been deadly. Breathing heavily, I allowed myself a moment to relax, gazing out into the distance.

  Then, a roar thundered through the night, so powerful it seemed to vibrate the very air around us. What followed was the heavy thud of something massive making contact with the earth. I strained my eyes against the darkness, but the scene before me remained shrouded, illuminated only by the ghastly glow of a red moon hanging ominously in the sky.

  The distant disturbances continued, sounding like a confrontation among coyotes and something gigantic. The possibilities were grim. It was either a desperate struggle for dominance among predators, or a lone, powerful beast decimating its opposition. The latter seemed increasingly likely, and with that realization, a cold knot of fear settled in my stomach. If such a creature turned its attention toward us, our chances of survival were slim.

  “We are vulnerable at your level,” warned Rabbit with a steady voice. “That thing is close, and clearly, that pack of animals is losing. Most creatures find a territory and stick to it for familiarity and protection. The fact that it sounds so big and hasn’t killed those animals before means that it is roaming around for enough meat to eat. We should be careful.”

  Rabbit’s assessment was chilling. All I could do was imagine how big it was when I heard the whines and barks from afar. You could hear a faint tremor when the yelping stopped. After about a minute of silence, it sounded like an animal tore through the brush below us.

  “The rest of the pack must have made a run for it. That's odd. If they had scattered, some of them would have fled together. Maybe he's the only one that survived,” Rabbit postulated.

  I sat in the cradle of the tree's sturdy branches, listening as the roars and stomping gradually shifted direction, moving away from my location. Time seemed to stretch, and the echoes of the tumult slowly gave way to the forest's whispers. As the world around me fell into a hushed calm, my gaze drifted upward, and I noticed a faint glow piercing the darkness from behind the mountain.

  “You think there is a fire?” I asked.

  “No, I would think the animals around here would be freaked out if it were a fire. My guess is, it is always there. I think it's the civilization you are looking for. Let's check it out after we get your sword back,” Rabbit responded.

  Seeing as there was nothing I could do, for now, I had to figure out how to tie myself better. I didn't want to fall out of this tree. This time, I tied it off with an extra four loops. It would be hard to get free in the morning, but it would be worth it.

  Even after the long day, despite being tired and with my new injuries, it took me a long time to fall asleep again. I kept worrying that whatever was out there might come in this direction. Eventually, sleep overtook me, my dreams filled with vivid images of titanic beings clashing amidst a storm, their fury echoing in the form of lightning bolts.

  When I woke up, confusion clouded my mind about my whereabouts. Then I realized I was in a tree. Not just in it, but tied to it.

  As my memories started to flood back, I quickly remembered the situation I was in, which made me question, “Rabbit, why don't you know anything about knots?”

  “You have random thoughts in the morning. I don’t know anything about knots because I don’t have a body and never will. I never thought to look up something like that before, and I currently have no access to figure out that information. If I ever needed to figure something out like that, I would have looked it up when it was relevant. But let’s be honest, when would tying a knot have been relevant?” Rabbit asked.

  “Now seems pretty relevant,” I replied.

  “I agree because this scenario seemed likely to happen in my future. You got it. You win this argument.” His reply was laced with sarcasm.

  “If I’m being serious...couldn’t you simulate what a good knot would be?”

  “I see where you are going with this,” he replied. “But the reason there’s no perfect knot for every situation is that they’re all so different. Sure, you want strength, but you also want ease of tying and untying. And it’s more than that. You have to consider the rope’s tension, friction, and the environment it’s in. Things like wetness, dirt, and the direction of the pull all make a difference. I could come up with some knots, sure, but with your real-world experience, you’re much better suited to the art than I am.”

  It was then that I realized I might have been relying on Rabbit too much in this new world. I was so used to having him as my answer to any question that I failed to notice things had changed. That was no longer the status quo.

  He might still be quicker and more knowledgeable than I, but if our roles were reversed, he would struggle to survive due to his lack of real-world experience. Then again, the same could be said for me. Our society had made us soft, and if I didn’t adapt fast, we were both going to die.

  After a long struggle trying to untie my knot, I got down from the tree. I noticed pools of water left behind by the rain in knots in the trees and leaves. It was uncomfortable, but I was able to drink the water directly out of them. I must have resembled an odd woodpecker, pressing my face into the tree's knot to sip the gathered water. With hydration taken care of, my next task was to find food. That was when Rabbit pointed out an herb that might be edible.

  “That one wasn't here last night. It must grow quickly or just became magically potent. It had no special properties before,” Rabbit noted.

  I grabbed it, and it didn’t have any magical effects, which was confusing since it was highlighted. I felt like we were missing something we hadn’t thought of. On the bright side, Rabbit’s internal memory of all the magical effects was growing fast.

  One might have thought that after yesterday's journey, I’d be halfway across the world by then. However, with all the climbing, falling, and injuries encountered, I found myself still on this mountain. Although it had leveled off somewhat, mountains never provided a straight path. Instead, I had to weave back and forth, searching for more navigable routes down.

  “Here is what I got.” Rabbit opened up the map he had made. “It is not exact, but from our journey yesterday, it is starting to fill in.”

  The map was far from perfect, with places that were undetailed, as if it were from a satellite view. Even with that limitation, he had a route planned out in a blue line.

  “The road that I had in mind is not a real route. It is more of a guesstimate. I think this is the best path from what we could see from afar, but we will have to judge each area as we discover them,” Rabbit explained.

  Moving through forests and mountains was difficult at best. Being up high and having a good plan ahead of time saved us a lot of time on our journey.

  The day progressed, and I made the most of my time. Rabbit's guidance made me feel as though I was soaring compared to the day before. A significant part of this newfound speed was due to not being near a mountain peak. There, it had been primarily a cycle of climbing and descending.

  As I was collecting herbs, Rabbit suddenly gave a warning about an impending danger. I quickly drew my bow and stepped back. Yet, the object of concern remained still. From a distance, it seemed like a tiny white ball of fur. The thought of it being a bear cub crossed my mind, and the fear of an imminent attack from its mother lingered. However, after observing it for a few minutes without any movement, I cautiously approached, silent as a shadow. It turned out not to be a bear at all but a small white monkey. It was unclear whether it was a child or just a small species of primate.

  As I edged nearer, I realized it was barely breathing. Whether this was due to its small size or its condition, I couldn't tell. When I got close, the little ape turned to me, its eyes red and weary, lying in a tangle of its own limbs and tail.

  “I don't see any visible wounds. I also don't see signs of malnutrition. It could be a disease or venom from a bite we don't see. It seems anything that would have poisoned him would have likely finished the job. I say we look around for a moment and see if we can find out what caused this,” Rabbit suggested.

  After a couple of minutes of walking around, the only thing we could see was a couple of fruit-bearing trees with black and blue on them, but Rabbit thought it was unlikely that any primate would be stupid enough to eat that in their own territory. He thought it might happen with a roaming animal, but the monkey looked too small to roam.

  “We've been gathering various herbs to expand our understanding. The challenge lies in recognizing their effects. Typically, you need a high level of Herblore knowledge, or the herb must directly interact with your current condition. For instance, if we stumbled upon an herb with properties like ‘awakening’ or ‘curing sleep,’ we'd only discover its effects if we were asleep.

  “Given our situation with the dying monkey, I propose to test a few herbs on him. I'm aware of three herbs specifically known for their 'cure poison' ability. These are the primary effects you're already familiar with from your testing. While I doubt the issue is poison, it's possible these herbs have secondary effects we're not seeing. My theory is that the plant effects aren't just random but categorized by their nature. If they were purely random, their properties would conflict, negating each other,” Rabbit elaborated.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “So, let me get this straight. You want to test unknown herbs on this monkey so that you can test your hypothesis? That's sick, Rabbit. Let's go,” I said, and stood up to walk away.

  “Got it. You would rather let this monkey die when you could maybe aid it. I mean, I could have suggested killing him for the experience, but a helpless animal wouldn’t have given you much either way,” Rabbit retorted as blunt as always.

  His words hit home, and he had a point. Not regarding the experimentation or the notion of ending a life, but the underlying truth that I might have the means to assist. It wouldn't require much time from me. “Alright, you win.”

  “Don’t I always?” Rabbit said with an internal smile.

  “No. You’re stuck with me, remember?” I countered. That shut him up. “Ha! I won one.”

  “Yeah, yeah. One you, one million me. Let’s go cure your cousin.”

  I retraced my steps, with Rabbit guiding me to the locations of the three herbs known for their “cure poison” properties. The only additional effect Rabbit was aware of was a minor 2% resistance to lightning, which was of no use in our current situation. We took the herbs back to the monkey, which eyed me skeptically as I attempted to feed it the leaves.

  However, the monkey was entirely uncooperative. Whether out of distrust or simple refusal, it consistently pushed the leaves out with its tongue, rejecting my attempts to help.

  “I guess let’s try this the hard way. There is a rock over there.”

  “No,” I said, outraged at his suggestion.

  “Don’t be an idiot. Let’s go crush the leaves on the rock and put them into some water.” Realizing I had overreacted, I went over to the rock and began crushing a portion of the leaves I had. The task proved to be more challenging than anticipated. The uneven surface of the rock made it difficult, and I ended up losing some of the paste in the process.

  After preparing the paste, I discovered a few puddles created by recent rain, held captive in the crevices of leaves, rocks, and roots. Taking a small amount of water into my mouth, I then mixed it with the crushed leaves in my hand, stirring as quickly as I could. Despite the mixture seeping through my fingers, I managed to retain enough and approached the monkey. This time, he did not refuse it. Apparently, he was thirsty.

  “I was hoping we would get an Alchemy skill. This world is so confusing. Maybe, we didn’t create a potion or poison, so it wouldn’t give us a prompt,” Rabbit said introspectively.

  “Poison? You serious?” I replied.

  “Well, you never fully know what will happen when you just mix things together. Think about stuff on Earth. You don’t go mixing chemicals unless you know what they are fully made of, so you can predict a reaction.”

  “So, we could have poisoned it?” I said, panicking.

  “Take it easy. It was on its last legs regardless. We've done all we could. Without our intervention, it stood no chance at all. It's actually surprising no predator has claimed it by now. That being said, we should probably move it to a more concealed spot,” Rabbit suggested.

  Reflecting on his words, I realized he was right once more. The monkey's fate was sealed without our attempt at aid, and what we tried was our only viable option.

  I grabbed the creature by one leg and dragged it under a broken tree branch. It wasn’t a great hiding spot considering it was white in a green forest, but unless you were looking for it, you wouldn’t notice the monkey.

  Knowing I did the best I could, I started walking away in the direction of the sword. Along the way, I grabbed some more berries to munch on.

  “Stop,” Rabbit warned.

  I stopped immediately and went for my bow again. It seemed I was in danger more and more.

  “No, dumb, dumb. Don’t eat the berries here. You are probably starving, but I would give it a little bit of distance between whatever caused that monkey’s problems and what we eat.” I put the berries down, wiped my hands on the dirty grassy ground, and kept walking. I looked at my hands with disgust at all the dirt and junk that had accumulated on them.

  “My hands are disgusting,” I said, annoyed. I looked down at the rest of me. It was even worse. “Ugh. I look disgusting all around.” I paused, waiting for Rabbit to argue with me like a normal person, and when he did not, I prompted, “Hey, can’t you say something nice to me?”

  “Sure, from your comments right now, I would say you have perfect eyesight.”

  “Thanks” was my only reply.

  “You look like crap,” he said matter-of-factly. “You have more mud on you than brains. Well, that’s not a lot then, but still, you fell down so many times.” He stretched out the word so. “If you’re seen, I’m certain they won’t even recognize you. But ignore that for now, we have almost reached the sword.”

  I looked around and could still see the diseased trees. Ahead, the landscape dramatically changed, showing where the mountain's side broke away, cascading toward the sea. This wasn't a simple vertical descent from summit to sea. Instead, the mountain featured abrupt drops interspersed with plateaus. Fortunately, my sword hadn't tumbled to the bottom but had instead fallen near this cliff's edge.

  Guided by Rabbit's directions, we approached the area where my sword was likely to be. Settling down, I concentrated, trying to pinpoint its location. I got the feeling that it was directly at the cliff wall and went to investigate. The wall looked unstable and had rocks piled up at the bottom, but I didn’t see any sign of my weapon.

  Rabbit's suggestion came with a wary undertone. “It might be hidden beneath the rocks.”

  Approaching the cliff's edge, a tangible sense of risk enveloped me. Amidst this precarious landscape, I found a sturdy tree root protruding from the ground, offering a semblance of stability. Grasping it firmly, I ventured a step onto the rocky ledge, my every movement deliberate to prevent any shift that might trigger a collapse. The ground beneath me, a jumble of stones, suddenly shuddered, a stark reminder of the cliff's unforgiving nature.

  This moment of instability sent a shiver of fear through me, as the ledge quivered and small rocks began their descent down the cliff. They tumbled, hitting plateaus in a series of echoes that mirrored my potential fate. Amidst this chaos, a glint of metal caught my eye. It was the sword, miraculously uncovered by the shifting rocks, its hilt beckoning.

  With the sword just out of reach, I faced a daunting choice. Taking a deep breath, I released my hold on the tree root, extending my whole body toward the sword. The moment was dangerous, a balancing act between retrieval and the abyss below. My fingers clasped the hilt, and in a swift motion, I secured the sword, hastily retreating to the safety of solid ground.

  A triumphant “Yes!” escaped my lips, louder than wisdom would advise in the wilderness, where any noise could attract unseen predators. Yet, in that moment, my caution gave way to celebration.

  My very next objective was to kiss the tree that kept me from falling with the stones on the side of the cliff. After gaining some distance from the crumbling cliffside, my heartbeat began to settle.

  This time, I couldn't resist pulling the sword from its sheath and giving it a few experimental swings. After all, if I were going to rely on it in a fight, I’d better get comfortable now. The first time around, I was either squeezing through a tight cave or teetering near cliffs, which wasn’t exactly ideal for practicing with a sword. But here? I had room to see what this blade could do.

  My first swing? A total flop. I put way too much power behind it and lost control almost immediately. When I tried to stop the blade mid-air to avoid hitting the ground, the sudden resistance threw off my balance, and I stumbled forward. Luckily, there was no dramatic self-impaling scene to follow.

  Rabbit found this hilarious, of course. I could almost hear his laughter ringing in my head, but I was too focused on not making a fool of myself again to let it bother me. Learning from my embarrassing debut, I decided to ease up this time.

  Also, chopping straight down? Not happening again. I didn’t trust myself to stop the blade safely on that kind of swing. So, I went with a side swing instead, which, to my surprise, felt a lot more natural and easier to control. Just as I was starting to feel a bit more like a swordsman and less like a clumsy apprentice, I got a prompt:

  Congratulations, you have learned Swordsmanship Level 1. “The pointy end goes into the other person.”

  Bonuses:

  5% increase to damage and speed

  “Ha! New skill,” I said smugly.

  “Yeah, yeah. Just remember what the prompt said and stop trying to stab yourself,” Rabbit replied. “Where to next?”

  “We'd better make it to that settlement before nightfall because I do not want to sleep in a tree again,” I said.

  “Wait, let’s go check out the ocean first. Besides, we are super close.”

  Rabbit and I took a slight detour, hungering for a glimpse of the ocean's vast expanse. Our journey didn't lead us to the sandy embrace of a beach, but rather to the dramatic precipice of a cliff. From here, the sea sprawled out before us, a canvas of blues that seemed designed to ensnare the hearts of those lucky enough to gaze upon it. This was no ordinary view. It radiated an untouched beauty, a stark contrast to the over-commercialized shores of my world, where every magnificent spot had been claimed, leaving a trail of hotels in its wake.

  The overwhelming presence of tourists had dimmed the enchantment of discovering secluded islands, as infrastructure strained beyond its limits led to the desecration of once-pristine beaches with refuse and untreated sewage.

  But here, the view was like a slice of paradise, untouched and pure, straight out of fantasy. I yearned to descend to the water's edge, to immerse my feet in the cool embrace of the ocean, yet I wasn’t sure what awaited us down on the beach.

  As I stood there, lost in the moment, I suddenly realized Rabbit had gone silent. It had been minutes since any sound had escaped him, an unusual occurrence for someone typically so lively.

  “You okay?” I ventured, a note of concern lacing my words.

  “Yep, just soaking in this world’s natural beauty,” he responded, his words echoing a sentiment of profound appreciation I hadn't expected from him. It was a reminder of the depth hidden beneath his often playful exterior.

  Reluctantly tearing ourselves away from the mesmerizing view, the crisp ocean air, and the tranquil sound of waves caressing the shore, we began our journey back. Rabbit, now familiar with the terrain, led us on a well-chosen path, allowing us to navigate the return with ease. The uphill path slowed me down, but only slightly as the beauty we'd witnessed buoyed my spirits, making every step lighter.

  My good mood lasted until we were about halfway to our destination, when I was picking herbs and berries to eat for a snack and got a prompt.

  Congratulations, you have learned Herblore Level 3. As you have no further affinity, you may not progress past level 3.

  “You have got to be kidding me? I maxed out another skill. This time at level 3?” I complained as if someone had just kicked my dog.

  “Tell me about it. I’m hoping we are missing something, and other people will be able to help us with that.”

  “What could they help us with?” I asked with hope.

  “Well.” Rabbit paused. “What if your level limits you? For example, if you reach level 5, could you then get to level 4 in Herblore? I mean, it could have nothing to do with that, but only another person here would be able to tell us about it. Just remember, we are starting from zero knowledge, and anything we gather will be helpful to us.”

  Rabbit and I didn’t talk for a while. He knew I was in an awful mood from the realization that I might be screwed just because I came in with a bad character class. I liked the quick healing, but that was some luck that I started with the First Learner ability. If I didn’t come in with that, healing would have taken days instead of hours. This character class wasn’t exactly suited to my taste, especially after all my years and experience with other games.

  I began to think about it and realized that maybe I was comparing things to games too much. In a game, developers have always sought to give players some advantage. They would allow the character to choose races that had awesome perks and others that were crappy. Of course, no one would select those characters. Besides, Non-Player Characters, or NPCs for short, would only specialize in one area instead of multiple ones. That was another limiting factor developers would do.

  In the real world, it was clear that you couldn't master everything. Some individuals excelled as figure skaters, their every leap and spin on the ice a testament to their grace and skill, while others wielded the strength of blacksmiths, shaping metal with sheer force and precision. It was rare, if ever, to find someone who could claim expertise in both arenas. Most of us had our niche, our unique talent that set us apart. I was hoping this was true, at least, and that this was the lie I had been holding on to. If not, I might find myself the only skillless person on this hostile world.

  As dusk settled, Rabbit and I found ourselves on the far side of the mountain, significantly higher up. Our initial choice of direct paths initially saved us time, but the steep incline and the necessity for breaks ultimately offset our earlier gains. Unsure of our exact destination, we opted to climb a tree and perch there, hoping to catch the glimmer of the village lights and use them to guide our way.

  After this long day, we sat in the tree, eyes peeled for any hint of human life. Eventually, as the sun was setting, a flicker of light emerged in the distance.

  “Finally, some people.”

  “Let’s go check it out,” Rabbit replied, almost bored with the lack of action.

  I climbed down from my tree and started moving carefully toward the light. Even though it was quite far away, being cautious when approaching a new place at night was always a good idea.

  I planned to scout the area tonight to gauge if the inhabitants were hostile. If I discovered they were a fair and peaceful people, I planned a more open visit at dawn to avoid any misunderstandings that might arise from my sneaking around at night.

  Halfway there, as the light from the settlement started to become clearer, Rabbit suddenly said, “Oh no, you're caught.”