The air hung thick and cold, heavy with the scent of pine and damp earth. Hunter, his breath misting in the pre-dawn chill, moved silently through the dense undergrowth. Years of experience had honed his senses to a razor's edge; the rustle of leaves, the snap of a twig – all were instantly translated into potential threats, potential opportunities. Tonight, however, the forest felt different. A prickling unease, a sense of wrongness, hung in the air, thicker than the morning fog clinging to the low-lying branches. He’d been tracking the rabid wolves for weeks, their relentless attacks leaving a trail of devastation in their wake, but this… this felt different. More sinister.

  A guttural snarl ripped through the silence, shattering the illusion of peace. Hunter spun, his hand instinctively reaching for the worn leather hilt of his dagger. Before him, silhouetted against the pale light of the nascent sun, stood a wolf. But this was no ordinary wolf.

  Its eyes glowed with an unnatural, pulsating light, a sickly green that seemed to bore into Hunter’s very soul. Its fur was matted with blood, not just the blood of prey, but something… darker. A

  malevolent energy crackled in the air around it, a tangible aura of sickness and death.

  The wolf lunged, its jaws snapping shut with a sickening crunch just inches from Hunter's throat. He rolled, narrowly avoiding the attack, his body hitting the cold, damp earth with a jarring thud.

  The wolf was fast, relentless, its movements fluid and deadly.

  Hunter fought back, his years of training kicking in, his dagger a blur of silver in the dim light. He felt the wolf’s teeth graze his arm, tearing through his leather jerkin, the searing pain a white-hot brand. He hissed, gritting his teeth, adrenaline coursing through his veins, masking the raw agony.

  The battle was a brutal dance of death, a whirlwind of claws and teeth, of desperate parries and desperate thrusts. Hunter felt the wolf’s strength, its unnatural power, a force that seemed to defy its physical form. It was like fighting a creature imbued with some dark magic, some malevolent energy that fueled its ferocity. With each strike, with each near-miss, Hunter felt his own strength fading, his body screaming in protest. He was losing. The wolf's supernatural strength, coupled with its relentless attacks, began to overwhelm him.

  He faltered, his vision blurring, the world around him shifting unnaturally. The taste of blood filled his mouth, his own mingling with the iron-like flavor of the wolf's. He fell to his knees, the wolf towering over him, its glowing eyes fixated on his face, its breath hot and rancid on his skin. He braced himself for the final blow, the cold embrace of death.

  An extraordinary event then unfolded. As the wolf's jaws snapped down, a searing pain shot through Hunter’s body, far exceeding the pain of his wounds. He experienced a powerful surge of energy, a torrent of power coursing through his veins, so intense it threatened to tear him apart. He saw the wolf’s glowing eyes, their green light flooding into him, merging with his own consciousness. He felt a strange connection, a bizarre mingling of wills. Following this, there was darkness. A chasm. Emptiness.

  You have been defeated by the Avatar of the Hearth Mother. Congratulations, you’ve been selected as the Hearth Mother’s champion,

  He awoke with a gasp, inhaling sharply as his lungs felt as though they were on fire and his body throbbed with discomfort. He was lying on soft earth, the smell of pine needles and damp moss filling his nostrils. Remarkably, his injuries had vanished, and he felt revitalized, stronger than he had ever experienced. He sat up, his head swimming, his senses overwhelmed by the vibrant beauty of the surrounding forest. The world appeared more defined and lucid, as if a shroud had been removed. Sounds he hadn't noticed before – the rustling of unseen creatures, the chirping of insects, the distant call of a bird – flooded his consciousness. He could smell the individual notes in the forest’s perfume, the subtle tang of damp earth, the sweetness of wild berries, the sharp, almost metallic scent of pine.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  A translucent, shimmering screen flickered into existence before his eyes, overlaid on the vibrant green of the forest. It was a familiar style, an interface he somehow instinctively understood. In crisp, clear text, it displayed his status:

  Name: Hunter

  Level: 1

  Experience: 0/100

  Health: 100/100

  Strength: 5

  Agility: 7

  Stealth: 2

  Skills: None

  Inventory: Empty

  A surge of confusion washed over him. He knew, with a certainty that transcended logic, that this was a game-like interface, a system designed to track his progression. But it wasn't a game.

  This was real. This was his life now. The memories of the wolf attack, the intense agony, and the transference of energy were far too vivid to be regarded as mere figments of an elaborate dream. He had undergone a rebirth. In a new world. A world where the lines between reality and the fantastical were utterly blurred.

  Disoriented but driven by an intense desire to understand what had happened, Hunter rose to his feet. The forest, which moments before had seemed so beautiful, now exuded an air of menace. Its lush, vibrant greenery seemed almost… too alive. The trees appeared to murmur hidden truths; the shadows danced with a malevolent energy. He felt vulnerable, exposed, yet stronger than he had ever felt in his previous life. The lingering effects of the wolf's power thrummed beneath his skin. This wasn't just a rebirth; it was a transformation.

  He began to explore the forest, his heightened senses picking up on subtle details that would have escaped him before. The sound of leaves crunching beneath his feet was sharp and distinct; the gentle rustling of unseen creatures was filled with detail, their location and intentions almost instantly clear. His enhanced sense of smell allowed him to track the trail of a rabbit with remarkable accuracy, the scent of its passage a clear, vivid signal in the forest air. The wolf's gift was undeniable.

  As he moved through the undergrowth, he came across a clearing bathed in dappled sunlight. In the center, nestled amidst a grove of ancient trees, stood a small, humanoid figure. Its skin was the color of bark, its eyes like polished gemstones. It was a wood sprite, small and wiry, radiating an aura of hostility.

  The sprite, eyes narrowed, studied Hunter with barely concealed suspicion. It hissed, a sound like dry leaves skittering across stone. "Human," it spat, its voice sharp and brittle. "What brings you to the Green Sea?"

  Hunter, despite his heightened senses and newfound strength, experienced a wave of unease. He gradually lifted his hands, palms facing outward, in a sign of tranquility. "I... I am uncertain," he faltered, his mind racing, trying to comprehend the situation. "I was attacked. A wolf... it had glowing eyes…"

  The sprite’s skepticism was palpable. "Glowing eyes? Humans always weave tales of magic to excuse their intrusions. What is your purpose here?"

  Hunter knew he had to convince this creature, this protector of the forest, that he wasn't a threat. But how could he explain his

  resurrection, his newfound powers, his game-like interface? This was a world beyond his previous comprehension, a world where magic was real, where game mechanics governed his existence, and where a small, hostile wood sprite held the key to his survival. The journey had just begun. The wolf's gift, however powerful, was only the first step on a perilous path. He had a lot to learn, and not much time to learn it. The whispers of the forest, once comforting, now held a note of foreboding, and the adventure— fraught with danger and the lingering question of memory loss with each death—was unfolding before him.