I stared down at the rat's mangled body, fur matted, blood still warm. My nose wrinkled.
Nope. No way. I am not going through with this… right?
My stomach growled so loud it actually hurt.
…Okay. Just one bite. One bite, then that's it.
I leaned down, sank my teeth into the stringy flesh, and instantly my body practically hummed with delight. My ears twitched, nose wiggled, legs thumped—like this was the best meal of my life.
Mmf—oh my god, why is this so tasty!? WHY!?
Okay… just one more bite.
A few minutes later, I was lying on my side, belly full, half the rat gone.
…I'm a monster. A fluffy, adorable monster.
[Correct.]
I buried my face in my paws. That wasn't a compliment.
*
*
*
With the distracting hunger now gone, my mind drifted back to the clearing: the boarlet smashing the small stag, the rat swarm tearing through meat like piranhas, and that noise—the clicking from the shadows I really didn't want to meet up close.
The only thing that had kept me from passing out in hunger was that single scrawny rat. Next time, I didn't think I'd be as lucky. And with only half of it left, I knew I had no choice but to go back to that clearing if I didn't plan on starving.
That's when I remembered it—the little flashes in my mind after the fight. Numbers. Notifications. Skills. Experience. Leveling up.
I sat upright. Hey, System. What were those notifications I got from you?
[Your battle granted experience. When a vessel accumulates sufficient experience, it grows stronger. This is translated as leveling up.]
Hearing that only cemented my original thought. The way this system worked, it really was exactly like a game. Was this Dumbledore's way of making my experience here easier, or just a coincidence?
Okay, I get it. Kill stuff, get stronger. Right. What about the skills?
[Repeated, successful use of a skill increases proficiency. When proficiency passes a threshold, the skill levels up, improving its effectiveness.]
I guessed as much. So, using my skills repeatedly made them better. The boarlet's charge attack—even from afar I could tell that despite its small size, that thing was powerful. I'd bet anything it was a skill, and one it had leveled up to boot.
Status.
A panel filled my vision.
[Status]
Species: Lesser Horned Rabbit
Level: 2/10
HP: 40 | MP: –
Stats: Vit – F- | Str – F | End – F+ | Agi – E | Int – C- | Wis – F+ | Lck – E
Skills: [Bash Lv.1], [Minor Hop Lv.1]
Titles: [Guardian]
I stared at the letters, ears twitching.
Yikes. Looking at all those F's and E's reminded me of one of my report cards from my dark secondary school days. Something told me they didn't stand for Fantastic and Excellent.
System, what's with the letters?
[Each letter represents a tier of capability. F is the lowest, EX the highest, with subgrades marking finer growth.]
…Great. So I was literally starting life at the bottom of the grading curve.
Still, this was me, huh? My starting build, I guess you'd call it, looked pretty clear. Not much in the way of strength or health. But endurance, agility? Those looked better. It made sense for a bunny with a horn, really. These guys were basically built for hit-and-hop—dart in, stab, bounce out before the other guy even realized what happened.
What about the other notifications? Didn't I get something else?
[You have an unspent Attribute Point and Skill Point.]
Awesome. How many?
[You have 1 Attribute Point. To be used to raise a stat.]
[You have 1 Skill Point. To be used to purchase a skill.]
And I'm guessing I'm the only person who can do this? On account of, well, you?
[Correct. The Guardian's unique access to the system interface allows for several advantages. Actively raising attributes and selecting skills are among these advantages.]
Oh, ho, ho~ That's what I like to hear.
So raise a stat and buy a skill. The very thought had me rubbing my paws and twitching my ears in excitement.
Images from the clearing played in my mind: the boarlet relying on raw power, the stag darting around with speed, the rats overwhelming everything with sheer numbers. Each leaned into their strengths.
And me? A horned rabbit. Glancing at my base stats, intelligence reigned highest, with agility and luck not far behind. The truth was obvious—I was built to be fast, evasive, and crit-prone. The hit-and-hop style wasn't just clever, it was natural. That's how I brought down the rat.
Alright… one point. Let's not mess this up.
Agility was tempting. Speed was my lifeline. Strength had its appeal too—harder hits, better Bashes. But then my ears drooped, remembering the pounding in my skull after my last horn attack. Yeah. If I kept rattling my own brain every time I fought, I wouldn't need predators to kill me. I'd do it myself.
Endurance it is.
More stamina. More resistance to damage. A little more staying power so I wouldn't fold like paper at the first bad hit. If I was going to keep playing the hit-and-hop game, I needed a cushion for when the "hop" part didn't go as planned.
[Attribute: Endurance → E-]
The moment I confirmed my choice, a strange rush of energy shot through my body. My muscles twitched on their own, and before I knew it my legs were firing like springs. Hop. Hop. Hop. I wasn't even trying—my body just had to move, like the energy was boiling over and forcing its way out. By the time it settled, I was panting in the grass, ears tilted back and heart racing. Stronger. Lighter. Sharper.
That was wild… like my body had just snapped into a better version of itself.
I could get used to that, I thought.
With that, I had increased my natural strengths as much as I could. But still… this wasn't enough. If I wanted to raise my odds of survival here, it would take more than this.
The monsters back in the clearing, as intimidating as they were, had one thing in common: they acted on pure instinct. They were like animals, behaving exactly how they were designed. That was what made them dangerous… but also predictable.
Then it hit me. That was my real advantage. Despite the obvious, I was still technically human, which meant I didn't have to run on instinct. I was more than just my natural weapons, and that difference was the key.
I just needed something to work with—something that would let me take full advantage of it.
Alright, System, show me the Skill List.
A new menu opened in my head, lines of text rolling down like some kind of catalogue.
…Whoa. Okay, that's a lot.
I began reading from the top.
There were a lot of options—stuff like Nibble, Hop Step, even one literally called Burrow. I skimmed through them.
…useful maybe, but nope, not what I'm looking for.
And then I saw it.
…Oh. Ohhh.
[Appraisal] – Displays information about the target. At higher levels, it grants increasingly detailed insight.
This. This was it. If I could peel back the mystery—see exactly what my enemies were capable of—then I could do more than just react. I could plan. I could strike when the odds were mine and vanish when they weren't. That was hit-and-hop at its purest… and finally, I had the key to make it work.
This skill was how I could use my mind and instincts together, turning my edge into a practical tool. And for the first time, I didn't just think about surviving—I thought about thriving.
[Skill Acquired: Appraisal Lv.1]
I confirmed the purchase of [Appraisal], and the moment I did, a spike of pressure stabbed right between my eyes.
Gah—!
I flopped over, clutching my head with my paws. My ears twitched like crazy, eyes watering. It wasn't pain, not exactly—more like someone had crammed a library into my skull all at once.
After a few rough seconds, it faded, leaving me sprawled in the grass and panting.
…Okay. That was not nice. Definitely not like the rush I got from pumping up my stats.
Still, underneath the headache, there was something new—like a sharp lens waiting to snap into focus the next time I tried it.
But before I got the chance to play with my new toy, I yawned without meaning to. The rush from earlier was gone, replaced by bone-deep exhaustion.
Guess… buying skills takes it out of you.
The trees were darker now. The last strands of sunlight had slipped through the canopy, leaving the forest dim and cold. A shiver ran through my fur. The Grandforest at night? Yeah, no thanks. Testing out my skills would have to wait.
I looked around nervously. System, where… exactly am I supposed to sleep? Because I don't see a cozy rabbit bed anywhere.
[Your vessel is that of a horned rabbit. The most suitable action is to burrow. Instinct will guide you.]
…Burrow? As in… dig a hole? Seriously?
[Correct.]
I looked down at my tiny paws. …You've gotta be kidding me.
But the air was getting colder by the second, and I couldn't stop picturing glowing eyes staring at me from the treeline. My claws twitched, my legs itched, and my instincts were basically screaming: dig, idiot.
Ugh. Fine. But I'm not happy about this.
So I dug. Scritch, scritch, scritch. Dirt flying everywhere, nose full of moss and mud. A few minutes later I had… well, a shallow pit. Not exactly prime real estate. More like a sad rabbit motel room. Still, it was something. I yanked a branch over the top, stuffed some leaves around it, and stepped back to admire my work.
[Skill Acquired: Burrow Lv.1]
…Huh. I tried not to feel proud. Failed a little.
I crawled inside. The dirt was warm, the walls pressed in close, and against all odds it actually felt… safe. My ears drooped as I flopped onto my side, curling up into a fuzzy little ball.
My eyes slipped shut, the forest's night sounds pressing in. Tomorrow would bring more hunger, more fights, more running for my life.
But for now… sleep.