After dragging himself back to his feet, Karl pressed his hands once more against the seed, channelling what little energy he could muster. A faint warmth pulsed through the husk, threads of green light flickering beneath its surface.
The system prompt chimed in his mind—
[Evolution Countdown: 3 Days, 00:10:15]
3 days, Excitement surged through his chest, almost enough to drown out the ache in his limbs. He staggered, breathing hard, sweat beading across his forehead. The thrill of progress warred with the heaviness sinking into his body.
[Status Panel]
Name: Karl Varn
Lord Level: Bronze II (0/10)
Strength: 10 (10 → 3)
Agility: 11 (11 → 3)
Vitality: 14 (14 → 2)
Intelligence: 9 (9 → 8)
Talent: Breath of Spring
Skills: Herbal Resonance, Vital Touch
he remembered his new skill: Vital Touch. Restore stamina. Maybe…
He pressed a hand to his chest, focusing on the faint warmth still lingering in his core. Come on, work. A pulse of energy sparked, sluggish but real, spreading through his limbs like a warm current. His muscles steadied, his breathing eased, but the effort clawed at him, draining something deeper—his qi, tied to Intelligence.
The prompt flickered:
[Status Panel]
Name: Karl Varn
Lord Level: Bronze II (0/10)
Strength: 10 (3 → 8)
Agility: 11 (3 → 7)
Vitality: 14 (2 → 8)
Intelligence: 9 (8 → 2)
His eyes flicked to the broken snare, its torn vine dangling uselessly. Too weak. Too obvious. The wolf's amber gaze burned in his memory, those eyes promising death if he slipped again.
I have become stronger maybe I can take it down but I don't have to take a risk if not necessary what if I encounter more than one beast at the same time
His pulse quickened. His grip on the spear eased. No. Not yet. Play it safe.
He turned his gaze to the barrier. It shimmered faintly at his back, a thin veil of protection humming with quiet strength. Beyond it, the forest loomed with secrets and teeth.
A flicker of light danced before his eyes.
[4 days, 22 hours, 30 minutes].
The timer ticked down, each second an unspoken threat. When it reached zero, the Wilderness would no longer turn a blind eye.
He moved quietly, his boots soft on the moss, gathering more vines and sticks. The forest's hum grew louder, a low vibration that set his teeth on edge, like the air itself was alive and watching. He selected vines his talent marked as strong, their vitality steady, their fibres tough as rope.
With his jagged stone, he sharpened more sticks, each one a potential weapon or trap component. The work was slow, his fingers raw and aching, the scent of sap and earth thick in his nose.
Traps need to be better. Stronger.
He envisioned a new setup: a choke point near the barrier's edge, where vines and sharpened stakes would funnel smaller creatures into a kill zone. For the wolf, he needed something heavier—a deadfall, maybe, using a larger branch rigged to drop when triggered. If I can wound it, I can finish it from safety.
He worked feverishly, weaving vines into tighter snares, their loops camouflaged with moss and leaves. He buried sharpened stakes at angles, their tips hidden just beneath the soil, designed to pierce paws or slow a charge. For the deadfall, he found a thicker branch, heavy enough to crush bone, and balanced it precariously on a low tree, secured with a vine tripwire.
His talent guided him, ensuring the materials were alive, resilient, not brittle. The scent of crushed leaves and fresh wood filled the air, grounding him as his hands shook with fatigue.
This has to work.
He scattered more berries as bait, their sweet scent cutting through the forest's metallic tang. Rabbits first. Small wins. Then I figure out the wolf. His stomach twisted, hunger gnawing harder now. He ate another golden fruit, its juicy flesh easing the ache but not the tension. I'm burning energy faster than I'm gaining it.
He stepped back, crouching behind the boulder again, spear in hand. He waited—minutes, maybe hours, he couldn't tell. The sky had already started darkening again, shadows stretching long across the forest floor.
When he thought he might go empty-handed today, his talent buzzed—subtle, sharp. Movement. Quick, light vitalities approaching.
Rabbits again?
His pulse quickened. His breath came shallow, the cool air biting at his lungs. Please, let this work.
A rustle broke the silence. Softer this time. Cautious.
From the underbrush, a small bear-like creature crept out, its nose twitching, eyes glowing faintly green in the dim light. It sniffed the air, edging closer, hunger dragging it toward the scattered berries. Each step was hesitant, but deliberate.
Come on. Just a little closer.
Karl's grip tightened on his spear, palms slick with sweat. His heart hammered, every beat loud enough to betray him. Don't mess this up.
The boar-like beast hopped forward, lowering its head to the bait. Its paw brushed the snare—
Snap!
The vine whipped tight around its leg. The creature squealed, thrashing, but this time the double-wrapped loop held firm.
The second beast froze, startled, then bolted back into the thicket. But Karl was ready.
He lunged from cover, spear raised high. His muscles screamed in protest, still weak from earlier healing, but he ignored the pain. With every ounce of strength, he drove the sharpened point down.
Wood pierced fur, hide, flesh. The beast shrieked, kicked once—then stilled. Its vitality guttered and went out beneath Karl's Breath of Spring.
Got it.
His chest heaved, breath ragged. Triumph surged hot and fierce through his veins, intoxicating in its rush. He dropped to one knee, yanking his spear free, the shaft slick with dark blood, his hands trembling as he stared at the still body. Small, but enough meat for days.
And just then underbrush exploded.