“Holy—mmph—fuckin’—mmf—this is… this is amazin’,” Hope mumbled through a mouthful, barely chewing as he tore into the meat like a wild dog.

  Juice ran down his chin. One hand still held the stick, the other already reaching for the next piece.

  “This stuff’s so—guh—good—mhmph—better than anythin’ I ever had, swear on it—”

  Eve stood with a hand over her mouth, eyes squinting as she tried, and failed, to hold in her laughter.

  “What?” Hope mumbled through the meat.

  She just shook her head, still chuckling. “Nothing. Just… watching a true culinary connoisseur at work.”

  Hope had no idea what half of those words meant, so he shrugged and kept eating until he was full… and then a ‘bit’ more after.

  “Whew, best damn meal I ever had, no joke. If ol’ Mano tasted this, he might’ve kicked the bucket earlier,” he laughed, hand on his overfull belly. “Ain’t ever thought those crappy sticks could be used to light a fire and cook like that. Big thanks, Eve.”

  Eve smiled, bright and soft, leaning forward on the grass with her arms wrapped around her knees.

  “Glad you liked it. And… if it’s alright to ask, you mentioned someone earlier… Mano?”

  “Oh, yeah. Ol’ fool back at my place. Taught me a thing or two.”

  “I see. And… do you miss him?”

  “You could say that, yeah. But he’s dead, though… even that bastard couldn’t cheat death forever.”

  Eve didn’t say anything.

  She just watched him, like she always did—quiet, still, listenin’ like she actually gave a damn.

  Hope leaned back on the patch of grass, arms behind his head, eyes half-lidded.

  “Mano was loud, always cussin’, always makin’ up crap like he was some kinda legend. Said he once punched a guard through a wall.”

  Hope scoffed.

  “Dumbass could barely punch a door open.”

  He let out a breath.

  “But still… he looked out for me, yeah? In his own weird ways. Taught me one thing most Crawlers don’t even know exists,” he stared at the blue sky and the white things he now knew were called clouds. “He taught me… honor.”

  “Honor?” Eve’s eyes flicked in surprise.

  “Weird, huh? Never thought you’d hear a Crawler say that… but yeah.”

  He chuckled.

  “Don’t bow to no one, but nod to those who earn it. Lie if you gotta, but never to your own. And walk past the crowd, but not past your own starving.”

  Hope smiled.

  “Give hope to the damned,” he said, showing her the scar on his hand. “That’s what he told me the day I got this. And that was also… why he gave me that silly-ass name.”

  Eve remained quiet, her gaze lingering on the scar, then back to his face. She didn’t press.

  Hope smirked.

  “Bet you’re curious ’bout the story, huh?”

  She nodded.

  He stretched, stood up, and cracked his neck.

  “Maybe another day.”

  Eve didn’t object. She just gave a small nod, though something in her eyes dipped—just for a second—before her usual calm smile returned.

  Hope turned toward the trees, spear slung across his back.

  “Let’s go find somethin’ to stab. Ain’t no use bawlin’ over dead fools right now.”

  Before parting for the hunt, he gave the new skill he had just gained a quick check.

  ??Cooking (Level 1)

  You’ve made fire and fed the flame. The body remembers warmth.

  ? Food you cook manually restores +10% more stamina.

  But more important than that—his new spear.

  He had taken a thicker branch this time, straighter than most. Stripped the bark off with a sharp rock, then split the tip slightly. Wedged a flint shard right into the gap and wrapped it tight with stringy bark strips until it held snug.

  He grabbed it and gave it a light swing.

  With no pack or belt worth anything, he tore up his blood-stained shirt—thing was useless anyway—and cut a hole through it. Tied it across his shoulder like a sash. Slipped the spear down his back, shaft tight against his spine. Not perfect, but it worked.

  Hands free. Weapon ready. Boost always active.

  The effort had also netted him a skill upgrade.

  ??Crafting (Level 3)

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

  ? Items you craft manually gain +30% durability.

  ? +10 Physis permanently.

  Hope took a deep breath.

  Nothin’ beats a full belly.

  After a few lazy stretches, he got moving again, taking it slow to let the food settle. Spotted some Grathens lurking around but didn’t bother. He was dead set on reaching the next region today. These things weren’t giving him much anymore—no levels, no boosts, no real challenge.

  Time to up his game.

  He stuck to the river. Made for a solid landmark, flowing steady in one clear direction. Easy to follow.

  Scenery wasn’t bad, either. Trees, wind, open sky. Kinda peaceful, in a weird way. He kept to a comfy jog, not even breaking a sweat.

  Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

  “Hey, Eve,” he called out over his shoulder. “You got stuff like this back at your place? Like rivers, grass, and all that weird crap?”

  A soft chuckle came from behind.

  “Weird? Well… yes, you could say I have.”

  “Could say? That's a yes, or you got no clue?”

  “It’s a conditional yes, depending on your exact definition of grass and rivers.”

  Hope sighed. And here we go again with the strange-ass words.

  He let it slide and kept his eyes on the tracks ahead. For a while, nothing changed—same trees, same wind, same rustling grass.

  But after an hour or two, the ground started feeling different under his steps. Bit steeper. Rockier. The river on his right grew thinner, faster… louder.

  Then—just like that—it ended.

  Hope stopped at the edge.

  Water rushed over the drop, crashing far below — at least ten times his height.

  A cliff. Wide, jagged, stretching endlessly in both directions.

  But it wasn’t the fall that made him stare.

  It was what waited past it.

  A sea of green, thick as hell and packed so tight it looked like the trees were fighting for space. He couldn’t even see the ground down there—just layers of leaves, branches, and more green than his eyes could handle.

  Hope stepped forward, hand on a tree for balance, mouth slightly open.

  “…Damn. You don’t see that every day,” his eyes were wide open as he scanned every corner of it. “Hmmm… can’t see any creatures from here.”

  He turned and faced Eve, who was completely calm, watching him instead of the sights. For some reason, those penetrating curious eyes gave him the chills sometimes.

  “Ehm… you can look down too, you know?”

  “I know,” she said with a smile.

  Hope coughed and rubbed his hand over his chin as he looked away. “So, eh… any name for all this?”

  “The region below seems like a jungle.”

  “Jungle? Rolls nice off the tongue.”

  “And the water falling down from the cliff and crashing below is called a waterfall.”

  Hope chuckled. “Rather straightforward that one—like, yeah, water and fall. Anyway, guess I have to go—”

  He immediately sidestepped as a rock whirled past where his head had been a moment ago.

  Hope spun around, grabbing his spear mid-turn. His eyes locked on the attacker.

  ID: 383185

  Level 14

  Dammit…

  A figure some distance behind him—one of those hairy bastards—had another rock already in hand. A sneaky one. Backstabber type, by the looks of it.

  “Hey, lad—fuck off before one of us gets hurt, will ya?”

  But the bastard didn’t even blink. Stepped forward instead.

  “Eve, make a run for it,” Hope whispered sharply.

  Eve stared at him curiously. “You’re going to kill him?”

  “Don’t ask questions and run down the cliff, now!”

  Eve didn’t budge. “It’s alright, don’t—”

  “Bloody hell—”

  Hope feinted a charge forward. The kid flinched.

  He pivoted hard on his right leg, scooped Eve up by the waist in one fluid motion, and leapt toward the side of the waterfall—down the steep rock slope that ran beside it.

  Another rock zipped past, grazing his left cheek.

  “Hold tight!”

  His right hand gripped the spear. His left arm clutched Eve tight against him. His feet slammed against the steep, angled rock face, skidding fast but steady.

  He jabbed the spear’s butt down hard into jutting roots and crevices, slowing their descent. One stab—slide—stab—slide. His legs moved fast, almost bouncing from one foothold to the next.

  Dust and pebbles blasted out under his boots.

  Eve’s damn hair kept smacking his face, but she didn’t say shit. Wait… was she… smiling?

  “This is fun,” she said over the wind, grinning like they weren’t one slip from death.

  “What the actual fuck is wrong with you?!” Hope barked, barely keeping balance as they slid.

  They hit the last ledge and dropped hard. Hope bent low, knees taking the blow.

  He didn’t need to look back to know the damn fucker was at the top already.

  He didn’t stop.

  He dashed, feet tearing up dirt in a zigzag as another rock slammed into the ground behind them.

  Why the hell is every fuckin’ psycho in this place obsessed with me?!

  “Hey, hold your breath!”

  Still holding Eve tight, he dove straight off the edge—into the water.

  The cold smacked him like a punch in the gut.

  Hope sank fast, arms flailing, legs kicking wrong. Water shot up his nose and burned like hell. He twisted, clawed at nothing, felt his spear dragging him like dead weight.

  Shit. Shit!

  He kicked again. Didn’t help.

  Didn’t even know which way was up anymore. Everything was bubbles and panic and cold and more fuckin’ cold.

  The bastard water just kept pulling him.

  Then—something shifted. He didn’t know what, but the flow changed. The river wrapped around him different. Not just dragging—pushing. A current slid under his ribs, coiling around his back like hands, rushing him forward through the dark.

  He didn’t fight it. He couldn’t. His lungs were on fire, throat tight, vision going fuzzy.

  Then his hand slammed something—stone!

  He grabbed it without a second thought, and kicked like mad. Chest bursting.

  His head broke the surface.

  He gasped, hacking up river, coughing and cussing between every breath.

  “Shit! Fuuuck—!”

  The current didn’t care.

  It spun him sideways, bashed his side on another half-buried rock, then spun him again.

  He caught another glimpse behind—just white water and mist. No sign of the bastard. No sign of Eve.

  He clawed his way toward the nearest chunk of solid ground, dragging himself out like a drowned rat. Hands shaking. Knees raw.

  He staggered upright, dripping, feet slipping, then started to run—but stopped.

  “Dammit, girl…”

  He turned, eyes scanning the river, panic bubbling again. “EVE!!!”

  “I’m here.”

  Huh?

  He spun around—and there she was, standing calm as ever a few paces back. Head tilted, hair soaked and sticking to her cheeks, arms resting behind her back like she’d just stepped out for a stroll.

  “What the… just… never mind,” he muttered, rubbing water from his eyes. “Let’s go.”

  And with that, he turned and took off into the jungle.

  After running for a while, Hope grabbed Eve’s hand and pushed her behind a thick bush near a tree.

  He quickly slapped a hand over her mouth and raised a finger to his lips.

  “Don’t make a sound,” he whispered, barely audible.

  Eve’s eyes widened for a second, but then she nodded.

  “Okay. Wait here. Running aimlessly will put us between the knife and the wall, ‘kay?”

  “You mean the sword and the wall?” she corrected, calm as ever.

  Hope just stared at her. Blank face. No words.

  Were all Citizens like this, or was she just special?

  He took a deep breath.

  Calm… yeah, calm… just… stay calm.

  He raised both hands slowly. “Alright, Eve. What did I say were the rules when—no, no... scrap that. Just… don’t talk, okay? Like, at all. Not now.”

  She nodded.

  Hope leaned his head against the tree, trying to gather his thoughts, then crouched low.

  “So, stay here for now. Don’t make a sound. If things go bad, you run and forget about me.”

  This time, she didn’t nod.

  Oh… come on… Mano, give me strength. Just a little patience, yeah?

  “Okay then… just stay. I’ll come back.”

  She nodded—finally.

  Alright.

  Hope tightened his grip on the spear, eyes scanning the surroundings, breath steady.

  Now… let’s see how the fuck I get outta this one.