Chapter 1: The World Giveth, The World Taketh Away
The damp, loamy scent of the pre-dawn forest was usually a comfort to Ren. It was a familiar perfume, one that spoke of hidden mushrooms, elusive game, and the quiet solitude he'd grown accustomed to in the four years since Old Hana and Pops Jin had passed. But today, the familiar smell was laced with something else: the coppery tang of fear, sharp and acrid in his nostrils.
He was ten, small for his age, but wiry. Life in the village of Oakhaven, nestled precariously on the edge of the sprawling, untamed Kukan'yu forests, had a way of stripping away baby fat and replacing it with lean muscle. His Earth memories, a torrent that had overwhelmed him at six after a near-fatal fever, were both a blessing and a curse. They made him unnervingly adult in a child's body, acutely aware of dangers others his age blissfully ignored. They also painted horrifying pictures of a future filled with man-eating ants and city-destroying bandits, a future still a decade away but approaching with the inexorable dread of a coming storm.
Right now, however, future horrors were secondary to a very present one.
A low growl rumbled through the undergrowth, too deep, too resonant to be any normal wolf or bear. Ren's heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. He'd strayed further than usual from Oakhaven's loosely defined borders, chasing a rare medicinal herb Old Hana had once told him could fetch a decent price from the occasional traveling merchant. A foolish risk, his adult mind chided, but his ten-year-old stomach had rumbled louder than his caution.
The creature that emerged from the thicket was something ripped from a nightmare, or, more accurately, from the kind of bestiary one might expect in a world like Hunter x Hunter. It was a Grootslang – not the mythical Earth serpent, but Oakhaven's local terror. It stood as tall as a small pony at the shoulder, its body a grotesque fusion of a muscular, six-legged feline and a scaled, serpentine tail that whipped back and forth, tipped with a bony rattle. Its fur was the color of dried blood, and its eyes, multifaceted like an insect's, glowed with a hungry, predatory light. Two short, wickedly curved horns jutted from its brow.
Ren knew he was, in gaming terms, critically out-leveled.
He scrambled back, the wicker basket of herbs falling from his numb fingers. His breath hitched. Run! his instincts screamed. He turned to flee, but the Grootslang was faster, a blur of reddish fur and gnashing teeth. It pounced, and Ren threw himself sideways, a desperate, uncoordinated roll.
Pain, white-hot and blinding, lanced up his left leg as claws tore through his worn trousers and into flesh. He cried out, a thin, reedy sound swallowed by the vast forest. The beast loomed over him, its hot, fetid breath washing over his face. This was it. After surviving a truck on Earth, after clawing his way back from a fever that should have killed him, this was how his second life ended – as breakfast for a oversized, six-legged cat-snake.
No! A spark of defiance, born of pure terror and the stubborn refusal to die again, ignited within him. I won't! I can't! Not yet!
He kicked out with his good leg, a futile gesture, but as his tattered boot connected with the Grootslang's snout, something shifted. Not in the physical world, but within him. A blinding blue light erupted behind his eyelids, accompanied by a sound like a thousand tiny chimes.
[Emergency Protocol Activated: Life Threat Detected!]
[Will to Survive Confirmed! Unlocking Latent Potential...]
[SYSTEM BOOTING: THE WORLD'S INTERFACE – ONLINE]
The Grootslang recoiled with a surprised snarl, momentarily startled by the invisible pulse of energy that had emanated from Ren. It was only a second's pause, but in that second, Ren's world had irrevocably changed.
Translucent blue screens flickered into existence before his eyes, visible only to him. Text scrolled, menus materialized, and a small, minimalist health bar appeared in his peripheral vision, already a worrying shade of red.
HP: 15/75
WARNING: BLEEDING STATUS EFFECT ACTIVE! IMMEDIATE ATTENTION REQUIRED!
Ren stared, dumbfounded. The pain in his leg was still agonizing, the Grootslang was still very much preparing for a second pounce, but his mind latched onto the impossible. A system? Like… like a game? Here? Now?
His Earth memories, filled with countless hours spent navigating digital worlds, clicked into place with surprising speed. This was it. This was the kind of impossible, reality-bending event that fanfiction was made of.
Another screen popped up:
[New Quest Generated: Trial by Fire!]
Objective 1: Survive the Grootslang encounter.
Objective 2: Stop the Bleeding status effect.
Rewards: +100 EXP, Basic First Aid Skill, 1x Minor Healing Potion.
Failure Penalty: Death. (Note: This is not a game. Death is permanent.)
The last line sent a chill colder than the morning air down his spine. No respawns. No save loads.
The Grootslang, recovering its nerve, let out another earth-shaking roar and lunged.
Driven by a strange cocktail of terror, adrenaline, and the bizarre clarity offered by the quest objective, Ren reacted. He didn't have weapons. He didn't have combat skills. But he had a brain, sharpened by two lives, and now, apparently, a system that could quantify his desperation.
He rolled again, this time towards the wicker basket he'd dropped. His mangled leg screamed in protest, but he ignored it. The Grootslang's claws gouged the earth where he'd been moments before. As he reached the basket, his eyes darted around, his system-enhanced (or perhaps panic-enhanced) perception noting details. A loose, heavy rock. The dense, thorny vines clinging to a nearby tree.
"Objective 2: Stop the Bleeding." The system prompt was like an anchor in the storm of his panic. He fumbled in the basket, his fingers searching for the thickest, most absorbent leaves he'd gathered, the ones Old Hana used for staunching cuts on livestock.
The Grootslang circled, wary now. It had expected a quick, easy meal, not prey that suddenly dodged with renewed, if clumsy, vigor.
Ren pressed the wad of leaves against the deep gashes in his leg. A new notification:
[Attempting to treat Bleeding. Crude materials used. Effectiveness: Low. Bleeding slowed but not stopped.]
HP: 12/75
Not good enough. He needed pressure. He tore a strip of cloth from his already ruined shirt, his mind racing. The system wasn't fighting for him, it was giving him information, goals. It was up to him to execute.
He looked at the Grootslang, then at the heavy rock. An idea, desperate and probably stupid, sparked.
"Survive the Grootslang encounter." Not kill it. Survive.
He grabbed the rock, its weight surprisingly manageable. Another small ping.
[Basic Object Interaction: You have picked up 'Heavy Rock' (Crude Weapon, Low Damage, Throwable)]
He didn't try to throw it. Instead, as the Grootslang decided it had played enough and charged again, Ren screamed, a raw, primal sound, and hurled the rock with all his might, not at the beast's head, but at the dense tangle of thorny vines clinging to the thick tree trunk just to its side.
The rock struck true, dislodging a cascade of the whip-like, razor-sharp vines. They rained down, not directly on the Grootslang, but in its path, creating a sudden, unexpected barrier of thorns.
The beast, committed to its charge, couldn't stop in time. It barreled into the thorny mess with a yowl of pain and surprise, a flurry of thrashing limbs and snapping jaws as the thorns dug into its hide.
It was the opening Ren needed. He scrambled to his feet, his injured leg buckling, and limped away as fast as he could, not looking back. He could hear the Grootslang roaring in fury and pain, entangled in the vicious vines.
He didn't stop running, didn't stop pushing himself, until the sounds faded, and the familiar, less threatening ambience of the forest closer to Oakhaven enveloped him. He finally collapsed at the base of an ancient oak, his chest heaving, his body trembling.
[Quest Update: Trial by Fire!]
Objective 1: Survive the Grootslang encounter. (COMPLETED!)
+50 EXP Awarded!
HP: 8/75 (Critical!)
Bleeding status still active!
He was alive. Barely.
With shaking hands, he tore off more of his shirt and, remembering scenes from movies and his own limited first-aid knowledge, began to bind his wounds tightly, trying to create a makeshift pressure bandage over the leaf poultice.
[Attempting to treat Bleeding with makeshift bandage. Effectiveness: Moderate. Bleeding significantly slowed.]
HP: 7/75 (Stabilizing)
Better.
Only then, with the immediate threat subsided, did Ren allow himself to truly process the impossible blue screens that still hovered in his vision. He mentally focused on the one that seemed like a main status screen.
[STATUS]
Name: Ren
Level: 1 (EXP: 50/100)
HP: 7/75 (Regenerating slowly: 0.1 HP/minute due to VIT)
SP (Stamina Points): 5/60 (Exhausted)
MP (Mental Points): 30/30 (Will become AP - Aura Points upon Nen awakening)
STATS:
STR (Strength): 6 (Below Average Child)
VIT (Vitality): 7 (Resilient Child)
AGI (Agility): 8 (Nimble Child – when not injured!)
INT (Intelligence): 15 (Gifted – Earth knowledge bonus)
WIS (Wisdom): 12 (Perceptive – Earth experience bonus)
LCK (Luck): ? (Seems you used some up today!)
Stat Points Available: 0
Condition: Injured (Left Leg - Severe Lacerations, Reduced Mobility), Exhausted, Bleeding (Minor).
His stats were… pathetic. Expected, for a ten-year-old commoner, even one with a past life's intellect. The 'Luck' stat being a question mark with a snarky comment was almost funny.
He tentatively thought, 'Skills?'
A new screen appeared.
[SKILLS]
Racial Skills:
[Human Physiology Lv. MAX] General Skills:
[Basic Survival Lv. 2 (EXP: 30/200)] (Includes basic foraging, fire-starting, rudimentary shelter construction)
[Herbology (Kukan'yu Region - Novice) Lv. 1 (EXP: 10/100)] (Knowledge of common local herbs)
[Stealth (Untrained) Lv. 0 (EXP: 5/50)] (You tried to be quiet, kind of)
[Throwing (Untrained) Lv. 0 (EXP: 10/50)] (That rock toss wasn't half bad, for a desperate kid)
[Makeshift First Aid (Untrained) Lv. 0 (EXP: 25/50)] (You stopped the worst of it)
It seemed every significant action he took could contribute to a skill. The potential was staggering.
'Inventory?'
A simple grid appeared, mostly empty, except for:
[Worn Clothes (Damaged)]
[Flint and Steel (Poor Quality)]
[Small Pouch: 30 Jenni] (The local currency. Pathetically little.)
[Discarded Herb Basket] (Marked as 'Lost' – whoops)
And finally, 'Log?'
A text log detailed the last few minutes: the Grootslang encounter, the system activation, his actions, HP loss, EXP gain. It was a minute-by-minute recording of his near-death.
Ren leaned back against the oak, a shaky laugh escaping him. This changed everything. The horrors of the future were still there, but now… now he had a tool. A path. Ten years. With a system like this, ten years was a lifetime to prepare.
A final prompt from the quest shimmered.
[Quest Update: Trial by Fire!]
Objective 2: Stop the Bleeding status effect. (Partially Complete – Bleeding reduced to Minor)
New Sub-Objective: Return to Oakhaven and properly treat your wounds OR use a Minor Healing Potion.
He looked at his HP, still critically low. The forest was quiet now, but it was never truly safe. He had to get back. The thought of a 'Minor Healing Potion' was incredibly tempting.
"Okay, Ren," he muttered, his voice hoarse. "Let's go get our reward."
Pushing himself up, ignoring the screaming pain from his leg, he began the slow, agonizing limp back towards Oakhaven, the blue screens of The World's Interface his silent, impossible companions. The game was on.