Hope stared at his weapon. The edge had started to blunt, and it was no longer penetrating cleanly.

  It had also bent more than a bit in the last few encounters.

  It was time to change.

  Over the course of the last two hours, he had encountered several dozen of the four-legged beasts and hunted them one after another. He felt his thrusting technique had improved, and one of the boost-causing prompts along the way had definitely made the weapon feel much lighter in his hands.

  He stared at his screen.

  Level 7

  Physis: 698(+14)

  Magia: 30

  Playing with it, he’d found out it responded to his thoughts. For instance, if he willed it, the old prompts—or at least some of them—would show up again.

  Over the last few hours, he’d gained new ones, while others had changed—or rather, improved.

  Skills

  ??Sharpwatch (Level 1)

  ??Longstride (Level 3)

  Your body remembers the rhythm. Endurance becomes movement.

  ? 15% reduction in stamina drain while running.

  ? +10 Physis permanently.

  ?? Close-Quarter Combat (Level 2)

  Instinctive adaptations for tight engagements.

  ? 10% reduction in stamina drain during close quarter combat.

  ??Crafting (Level 1)

  ??Spear Handling (Level 2)

  You’ve grown used to the feel of a spear—how to hold, move, and strike with it.

  ? 10% reduction in stamina drain when using spears or spear-like weapons.

  ? +2% to Physis while the spear is your designated weapon.

  Feats

  ?? First Blood

  ?? Prey Reversal (G)

  ?? Hunter (G6)

  You’ve tracked, fought, and brought down 30 living creatures. The body begins to harden with repetition.

  ? +40 Physis permanently.

  It seemed certain actions, when repeated over and over, caused the boosts to upgrade. For instance, the second boost appeared to be related to running, while the third, fifth, and last were tied to fighting and killing.

  Which meant that if he kept running and fighting, they would eventually upgrade. As for the first one, he remembered it had appeared after watching one of those defenceless, fluffy creatures in the green plains. He kind of remembered—or just knew—that it was tied to observing from afar. But in this region, the beasts attacked on sight, so there wasn’t much observing to do, really.

  There was also one that had appeared after he’d sharpened the long stick to make his weapon. Maybe he needed to craft or sharpen more to improve it. And that… was what he was about to find out.

  He set his weapon down and—

  Huh?

  He blinked, a faint wave of weakness washing over him.

  What was that?

  He glanced at the spear on the ground and picked it up again.

  Almost immediately, that subtle heaviness lifted.

  What in the voids is going on?!

  He frowned at the weapon.

  Did holding it give him a slight boost in strength? And if so, did he really need to keep it in his hands all the time?

  …No shit.

  He stared at his screen, then, without taking his eyes off it, dropped the weapon. And sure enough, as his strength dropped, the numbers changed.

  This is seriously messed up.

  But… does it have to be this specific weapon?

  He grabbed another stick from the ground but felt nothing. No boost. Maybe it had to be sharp at one end—like a proper spear?

  He looked for a sharp rock nearby and sat down, sharpening the stick until the point was decent enough to pass for a spear. He then held it—and felt the boost!

  I see… so it’s not tied to one weapon, but not just any weapon either. A sharp rock didn’t trigger it. A plain stick didn’t. No… it has to be the same type of weapon. A spear.

  So… I become a bit stronger while holding a spear.

  Is that one of the abilities I gained? Likely.

  Well, good to know. Back to the previous experiment.

  Hope started grabbing any stick he could find, and one after another, he sharpened their edges until they were good enough. But even after the first dozen, no change happened. No skill upgrade.

  No matter. He had a hunch. And when he had a hunch… he was stubborn as hell.

  He kept going. Over and over.

  It wasn’t until quite a while later that his perseverance was finally rewarded.

  ??Crafting (Level 1 ? 2)

  You’ve shaped something with intent. Your hands remember.

  ? Items you craft manually gain +20% durability.

  YES!

  He didn’t feel any extra boost, just like last time, but somehow he knew that the upgrade made his crafted weapons better.

  After getting the much-awaited message, he finally got serious about finding a decent stick. He needed a heavier one now—slightly thicker than before.

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

  He walked around, and after a couple of minutes, found one that felt good in his hands, suitable for his new strength.

  He sat down and sharpened it, taking much more time to give it a proper finish.

  Then he stood up, thrust several times, and nodded—clearly satisfied.

  Time to keep going.

  He started jogging again.

  Along the way, he encountered more beasts, and as always, they tried to hunt him. Bad move. They ended up dead instead.

  He took the chance to keep refining his thrusting technique, figuring out what worked better and how to properly distribute the force of his body. He learned to push off with his back foot, to let the power come from his legs and hips—not just his arms. Timing the step mattered. Step too early, and the spear lost power. Too late, and he overreached.

  He adjusted his grip, learned not to hold too tight or too loose. His off-hand steadied the shaft mid-length, guiding the thrust like a rail. He began to strike with the tip in line with his shoulder, keeping the shaft stable and reducing wobble. He learned how to aim just before the lunge—not during—and how to reset his stance without stumbling.

  Every motion, every kill, reinforced the muscle memory. The way he stepped, shifted weight, retracted without dragging. All those details slowly ingrained into his stance.

  And he repeated it over and over. Kill, run, kill, run.

  After a while, he finally started to feel a bit tired, but...

  Not yet. There was competition behind him—others like that bastard that had chased him were surely out there, killing each other. If he held back… he would no longer be the hunter… but the prey.

  So he kept going, until—

  He stopped.

  The terrain ahead—it was changing again.

  Up ahead, the thick green and tall brown pillars began to thin out, giving way to a more rocky surface. And somewhere not too far beyond, he heard a sound.

  A soft, steady noise. Almost like hissing… but smoother.

  Another beast? A Crawler?

  He tensed, gripping his spear with both hands.

  Slowly, he made his way toward the source of the noise, eyes sweeping the terrain.

  There was a small hill ahead, formed by a mess of large rocks blocking his view. Whatever was making that sound was definitely on the other side.

  He dropped low, chest close to the ground, spear in hand, and climbed the slope carefully. Quietly. It was tough—not much footing, and every rock threatened to roll—but he managed.

  He reached the top and raised his head just enough to peek over.

  His eyes widened.

  This...

  It was water. A lot of it!

  Not dripping from a pipe, not pooled in some broken well.

  He blinked.

  There was so much of it. And it just kept going. It glittered in the light, curled around stones, splashed in soft waves along the sides—alive in a way that no water he’d ever seen had been.

  He didn’t know what it was called, but it was… beautiful.

  It was the source of that noise too.

  Hope then carefully looked around.

  The space beyond the rocks opened wide. The ground sloped gently downward, scattered with massive stones and uneven mounds.

  The moving water curved through the middle, cutting across the terrain. Strange thick growths lined both sides—tall and rough-looking, like giant sticks with green fuzz near the top. He didn’t know what to call those either, but they swayed gently in the wind, casting shadows over the shimmering water.

  The air felt cooler here. Even the sounds were different—less buzzing, more rushing and rustling. Everything felt more… open.

  His eyes scanned ahead—and stopped.

  Something was there.

  A massive shape, low to the ground, coated in thick, uneven fur.

  Grathen

  Level 10

  Hope tensed. He didn’t know what the words meant exactly, but he recognized the pattern. Same as the other creatures—only the number was bigger. And that meant… it was stronger.

  But Hope didn’t need the numbers to tell him this one was different. He could feel it.

  As he watched, he noticed his focus sharpening—like his eyes had zoomed in.

  He recognised that sensation from earlier. It was the same as when he’d watched the fluffy creatures in the first region—one of the abilities he had gained.

  He studied the creature a while longer. It moved lazily, but its size alone meant it would surely pack a punch.

  Not an easy fight. But that meant… more rewards… surely, right?

  He glanced around, checking for other beasts, but didn’t spot any. His eyes locked back onto the creature.

  A sudden thought popped into his head. He didn’t know what the damn things were really called, but who cared? He could name ’em himself. Yeah… why not?

  He stared at it for a moment, and—something weird flickered in his head. Images. White. Cold. Footprints. Smoke. And…

  He blinked it away. What the hell was that!?

  But one word stuck. Bear.

  He looked at the creature again. Somehow… it fit. Or maybe he was just losing it.

  Whatever. Bear it is.

  “Let’s take this ‘bear’ down, shall we?”

  Hope moved along the rocky terrain, keeping well away from the water. He stayed hidden between thick ground pillars, dense green patches, and the occasional big rock. Bit by bit, he edged closer to the bear.

  He poked his head out from behind a boulder and watched.

  The thing was lumbering toward the water. Not a good spot for an ambush. Too open and slippery.

  Hope scanned the surroundings. Plenty of rocks, but not enough to deal real damage. Not unless he got lucky.

  He gritted his teeth.

  No choice. He'd have to do it up close.

  He crept further, hugging the ground, step by step until he was within range. His hands tightened around the spear. He adjusted his grip. Measured his breath. His heart hammered in his ears.

  Now!

  He burst forward with a sharp cry, charging from behind.

  "RAAHHH!"

  The spear slammed into the bear’s side—just below the ribs, deep—but not deep enough.

  The bear let out a thunderous roar and twisted violently.

  “Shit—!”

  Its paw crashed into his chest like a slab of metal. Pain tore through his ribs. He flew back, hitting the ground hard, tumbling over jagged rocks and rough dirt. Dust filled his nose. He coughed—once, twice—blood sprayed from his lips.

  "Ghh—fuck!"

  He forced himself up, stumbling, blinking past the red haze in his eyes.

  The bear was already coming.

  Charging.

  Move, MOVE!

  He dove to the side. Its jaws snapped shut where his throat had been a heartbeat ago.

  He screamed as he thrust upward—right into its jaw. The spear cracked against bone with a sickening crunch. The beast shrieked, a horrible, guttural howl, and staggered to the side.

  Hope didn't stop.

  "TAKE—THIS—YOU—BLOATED—BASTARD!"

  He yanked the spear back with a grunt, stepped in, and rammed it again—lower, right into the gut. The shaft shuddered in his hands as it pierced flesh.

  A torrent of blood erupted, spraying his arms, face, chest. The stench hit him all at once.

  The bear roared in rage and agony. One massive paw slammed into his left thigh.

  "AGH!"

  He dropped to one knee, gasping, nearly losing his grip on the weapon.

  The beast heaved over him, snarling, one eye wide with fury.

  He clenched his teeth. One chance.

  He drove the spear up, straight into its throat.

  The bear gave one last violent shudder, a choked gurgle breaking from deep in its chest.

  Then it dropped—collapsed onto him with a heavy thud, pinning him for a breathless second before he rolled out from under it, dragging himself back across the dirt, coughing and cursing.

  Level 7 ? 8

  ?? Close-Quarter Combat (Level 3)

  Instinctive adaptations for tight engagements.

  ? 15% reduction in stamina drain during close quarter combat.

  ? +10 Physis permanently.

  ??Spear Handling (Level 3)

  You’ve grown used to the feel of a spear—how to hold, move, and strike with it.

  ? 15% reduction in stamina drain when using spears or spear-like weapons.

  ? +3% to Physis while the spear is your designated weapon.

  He stared at the prompts, blood dripping from his chin, arms trembling, his body slick with sweat and gore.

  He spat to the side. His leg throbbed like fire. His chest hurt like hell. Something was broken in there—maybe more than one something. Every breath felt like getting stabbed from the inside.

  But through it all… he smiled as he stared at the blue sky.

  "...Did you see that, Mano?"