But it was gaining.
It was faster than him?!
His heart pounded harder. He pushed more—faster, faster. His breaths came short.
Still behind him.
This won’t work.
His eyes darted. The brown pillar—
He veered hard, cutting just in front of one of the tall structures and hooking around it tight.
The beast reacted late. Not expecting the sudden change in direction, it stumbled slightly in the turn, claws digging into dirt.
Hope didn’t waste the chance.
He picked up a loose stone—flat, heavy enough—and as the creature lunged around the trunk, he slammed it straight into its snout with all his momentum.
There was a sickening crack.
The beast yelped, blood spraying from its nose and mouth as it crashed into the ground with a heavy thud, limbs twisting in confusion.
Hope didn’t hesitate. He lunged.
His hand snatched a broken branch, jagged at the end, and without thinking, he drove it into the beast’s neck—just below the jaw, where the fur was thinner.
The creature shrieked.
It bucked violently beneath him. One of its claws tore across his thigh, but he didn’t let go.
He shoved harder, forcing the branch deeper. Blood spurted from the wound, hot and dark, hitting his face, his chest, soaking his hands.
It thrashed—legs kicking dirt, spine arching in reflex—but he held on. Gritted his teeth.
With a wet grunt, he pulled the branch out and stabbed again—harder, lower this time. A deep crunch followed, followed by another gout of blood across his cheek and neck.
The third strike tore something. The creature went rigid—then limp.
Silence.
Hope’s arms were trembling. He stayed crouched over it, chest heaving, his face and shirt now streaked with blood.
The ground around them was smeared with it—black-red, pooling beneath the beast’s still body.
Suddenly, his screen filled with text and numbers.
Level 1 ? 2
Feats Achieved:
- First Blood
- Prey Reversal (G)
Passive Skill Unlocked:
- Close-Quarter Combat (Level 1)
?? First Blood
Your first kill marks you. The body begins to adapt to lethal intent.
? +10 Physis permanently.
?? Prey Reversal (G)
You brought down a superior threat.
? +30 Physis permanently.
?? Close-Quarter Combat (Level 1)
Instinctive adaptations for tight engagements.
? 5% reduction in stamina drain during close quarter combat.
After a while, the text faded away, but his usual screen had changed.
ID: 815165
Grade: C6
Level 2
Physis: 503
Magia: 5
He stared at the updated screen for a moment, realising he had somehow become stronger—with more of those strange powers.
Then he blinked.
And looked down at his hands. Still shaking. Still red. Blood was dripping along the creases of his fingers, crusting at his wrists.
His chest rose and fell in uneven bursts.
It was only then—now that he was finally relaxing—that he felt the sharp pain in his thigh where the claw had torn through. It wasn’t deep, but it stung.
He slowly got up and swept the area with his gaze. His leg ached, but he knew it’d heal soon. He usually bounced back fast. Mano used to say he was a tough bastard.
Hope took a deep breath and glanced at the brown stick he’d used to kill the creature. Maybe he should hang on to it.
Then he looked at the corpse.
The thing that had nearly killed him.
Could be food. He knew that. But he wasn’t hungry—not yet.
As his pulse steadied, something started to feel… off.
He wasn’t sure what it was exactly. The air? The silence? Something had shifted—something small but present. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, though.
He also noticed his body felt different. Stronger. More stable. Like something inside had clicked into place.
Was that an effect from the stuff on the screen?
Fighting and killing that thing had given him a bunch of upgrades. Boosts. Whatever they were.
So… more danger meant more reward? Was that how this world worked?
He let out a dry breath.
Well… where he came from, it worked the same way, actually. Except the rewards back there were... way shittier.
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Still, it was truly remarkable. Gaining strength just by doing things. Perhaps… if he kept going… could he reach the power of a Citizen? They were all fast and strong—some could even fly. They were in a whole different league from Crawlers like him.
But then… why did someone bring him here? Why did they allow him to get stronger? Why… would anyone help him?
It made no sense.
Hope observed the surroundings for a bit and stretched his leg now and then. The wound had stopped bleeding, but it was too risky to keep moving until it no longer affected his motion, so he sat down and leaned against a nearby brown pillar, getting away from the stench of blood—even if part of it followed him in his stained clothes.
The ground was rather comfortable, even more so than the place he used to sleep.
He allowed himself some rest but stayed alert to any sound.
He played with the stick in his hand. It was solid, but flexible. Not metallic. It felt… similar to the branches that extended from the large pillar-like structures around him. Actually, it probably came from one of them—he could see thinner branches near the top.
Well, it had certainly saved his life.
After a couple more minutes, the wound was fully healed. And while he knew he had a knack for healing faster than others, this… this was still way quicker than usual.
Strange. Was it because of those prompts?
Hope stood up and, without thinking more about it, headed deeper in.
Sure… it was dangerous. But there was nothing behind him. And he was used to danger. He used to play around dangerous stuff every day to survive.
Hope jogged ahead, stick in hand, alert as always.
It didn’t take long before he found himself the target of another one of those four-legged beasts.
But this time… it seemed just a bit slower than the last. Or was it… that he was faster?
He didn’t think much of it and used exactly the same strategy—though this time, no rock. He ran back, waited behind a tree, and leapt with a thrust, catching the creature mid-turn.
The strike landed true near the throat. The creature let out a guttural snarl—a sharp, broken mix between a growl and a choking hiss.
After just one more strike, it whined, then went still.
Level 2 ? 3
Hope frowned as he saw the prompt, though he had half expected it.
He checked his screen and noticed further changes.
Level 3
Physis: 532
Magia: 10
He could feel it—his body had become slightly tougher.
So indeed… killing these creatures made him stronger somehow. Which meant… whoever brought him here wanted him to… hunt?
Hope suddenly remembered that bastard who had chased him. His number was different—actually, it matched the number Hope had after his first kill. So… he was probably aiming to kill him to grow stronger.
Hope didn’t like the nature of it. It clearly meant this world wasn’t just pushing them to kill creatures—but potentially one another.
So that’s the catch, huh? He knew no one would help Crawlers like them out of kindness. So all this shit...
He looked around.
It was just like those underground dog fights. Someone out there—or maybe a whole bunch of them—were watching, enjoying the show as they barely survived, as they killed, and granting them rewards for doing it.
Hope glanced up at the sky above. He thought for a moment about raising his middle finger… but decided against it.
No matter what, survival came first. That was Mano’s motto. His too.
But now that he realized that, he had to be more careful. He had left the others behind, but they’d eventually reach this zone. Heck, maybe some were already here—or even further ahead.
He needed to keep moving, but also keep hunting so he could get strong enough to protect himself. He wasn’t aiming to kill others. But he sure as hell wouldn’t let himself be killed either.
So... run and kill creatures on the way. Simple as that.
He stared a bit longer at the branch in his hand. It wasn’t bad, but he could find a sturdier, longer one.
He checked the ground around him and soon found a stick with a length and weight he was satisfied with. The end wasn’t sharp, but that wasn’t an issue.
He searched around until he found a rock with a decent edge, picked it up, and began carefully scraping and grinding the stick’s tip—working with slow, precise strokes until it looked sharp enough.
Just as he finished, a new prompt surprised him.
Passive Skill Unlocked:
- Crafting (Level 1)
??Crafting (Level 1)
You’ve shaped something with intent. Your hands remember.
? Items you craft manually gain +10% durability.
Huh? The things I make… become stronger?
Now that was even weirder than the rest of ’em!
He exhaled. It was what it was.
In any case, he needed to get moving.
With his new weapon in hand, he had more range and thrusting power.
He carried it with one hand as he jogged ahead.
And sure enough, another of those beasts came straight at him.
But this time, he didn’t run back.
He held his stance, calmly analyzed its movement. He waited… waited…
Now!
He stepped forward, thrusting with all his strength, and struck the creature deep in the throat.
It whimpered for just a moment before falling silent.
One hit!
Good. Hope nodded as he stared at the bloodied tip of his makeshift spear.
But… no prompts this time.
Weird. Why?
Maybe… he needed to hunt more now? Or hunt different beasts further ahead?
Hmm… he’d hunt a couple more and see.
It didn’t take long for the next encounter. He spotted the creature quickly and waited patiently for the right moment, just like last time.
The tip of his spear pierced the flesh, but the angle wasn’t great this time and nearly made the weapon slip from his grip.
Hope felt the strain in his forearms. Still, another one down. And yet… no prompts.
He didn’t give it much thought and kept going.
For the next one, he was more careful—he took a proper stance and put more force into the strike, angling it better.
He thrust straight.
The creature howled and dropped dead.
Level 3 ? 4
Yes!
He also felt his body strengthen yet again. So that’s how it is. The stronger he got, the more he needed to kill to keep getting stronger.
Kind of made sense.
His usual screen also changed.
Level 4
Physis: 561
Magia: 15
As he watched it carefully, he started noticing a pattern in how the numbers changed. It was just a wild guess, but… they seemed to be going up, right?
So… were the numbers describing him? They increased in step with his own strength?
That actually made a lot of sense.
He noticed the weapon in his hand felt just a bit lighter now—easier to grip, easier to move.
Time to keep going.
He resumed his march and kept hunting the beasts down, one after another.
With each kill, his stance improved slightly. His thrusts landed cleaner. The recoil in his arms wasn’t as jarring. His body was adjusting—refining itself over and over.
A while later, he earned himself another prompt—actually, more than one this time.
Level 4 ? 5
Feats Achieved:
- Hunter (G7)
?? Hunter (G7)
You’ve tracked, fought, and brought down ten living creatures. The body begins to harden with repetition.
? +20 Physis permanently.
The boost in strength felt much more pronounced now—similar to the one he’d gotten after his first kill.
For some reason, he felt a strange thrill rising inside him. That feeling of growing stronger, of earning it with his own hands felt… good.
He gripped his spear tighter and stared ahead.
He wasn’t tired yet.
The hunt continues.