The second night in the woods fell colder. Aric crouched high in the branches of an oak, fireflies blinking faintly around him. His hands trembled as he unwrapped a small vial of herbal paste from his pack. The scent was sharp, almost bitter, but it soothed the raw scratches across his arm when he dabbed it on.
He hissed, then leaned back, rolling his shoulder.
[Look at you, playing doctor. I'd give you a nurse's hat, but I don't think it'd suit the "mysterious hunter" vibe you're going for.]
Aric smirked faintly. Better than bleeding to death out here.
[True. Although, blood does bring out your eyes. Very heroic.]
He ignored that, pulling out his bread ration. Each bite was stale, but filling. As he ate, he replayed the day in his head—the blur of claws and tusks, the wolves' snarls.
Hornfang Wolves. That's what Bran had once called them. Thick, curved horns crowned their heads, and their bite was vicious enough to crack bone. One had nearly caught him with its skill, Ravenous Bite. The memory of those fangs clamping down sent a shiver through him.
But he'd survived. Not just survived—he had won.
A quiet shimmer in the air reminded him of the truth:
[Skill Efficiency: Arcane Slash → 100% | Skill independence achieved. Slot freed.]
He exhaled. "Both free now."
[Correct. Slots: empty. You're a hungry little sponge again. Time to hunt for more tricks.]
Aric chuckled quietly, shaking his head. "I'll figure it out."
[Better. I'd hate for my Host to just be average.]
After finishing his meal, he spotted something tucked near a stump below his perch earlier that day—wildflower stalks with faint silver petals. Rare, delicate. Lyanna had always begged for "something pretty from outside the walls." He carefully bundled a few into cloth, tucking them into his pack.
For her.
By the time he leaned back against the tree and finally checked his panel, the ache in his limbs felt almost bearable.
[Status Window]
Name: Aric FrostAge: 10Race: HumanClass: None (Unawakened)
Titles:
The Survivor Beyond Death
Incarnation Bearer
Crown Points: 10 CP
Level: 4 (Exp: 50 / 1000)
HP: 90 / 130 MP: 12 / 20
Core Stats:STR: 6AGI: 6END: 6DEX: 7INT: 8WIS: 6LUK: 3Authority: 0
Stat Points: 20 (Unassigned)
Skills:
Sword Slash (Lv.1)
Sword Thrust (Lv.1)
Quickstep (Lv.1)
Arcane Slash (Lv.1)
Tenacity (Passive)
Copy Skill Slots: 0/2 Slots
Inventory:
Iron Sword (Beginner's)
Minor Health Potions ×3
Minor Stamina Potions ×3
Basic rations & supplies
Bundle of Silverpetal Flowers (Gift for Lyanna)
He closed the panel and stretched.
[Stat points untouched, Host. Bold strategy. Planning to hoard them until your funeral?]
"I'll assign them when I'm home," Aric muttered. "Better to think first."
[Practical. I approve. Boring, but practical.]
Aric smirked, closing his eyes to rest.
The next morning, the forest felt different. Not as heavy. The silence wasn't crushing—it was steady. He strapped his sword, packed his things, and began the trek back toward the Frosthold roads.
Near the treeline, Captain Bran leaned against a tree, arms folded. His armor caught the dawn light, his expression unreadable.
"You came back."
Aric blinked at him. "Were you… waiting?"
Bran grunted. "Making sure the beasts didn't drag your bones into the underbrush." His eyes narrowed slightly. "I saw flashes. Not something I've taught you."
Aric shifted, hand brushing his sword hilt. "…I've been practicing."
"That much is obvious." Bran studied him a long while, then gave a slow nod. "You fought well, then."
Aric hesitated, then allowed himself a small grin. "Well enough to bring back flowers for Lyanna." He tapped his pack.
Bran's stern gaze softened just barely. "Then you've learned more than swordplay."
They turned toward the distant road together, Frosthold's banners faint in the horizon haze.
[Aw, look at you. Survived, leveled, even brought home flowers. What a productive little adventurer.]
Aric smiled faintly, his chest lighter than it had been in weeks.
Tomorrow, the whispers would still be there. But he'd have answers.
He'd have strength.
And he wasn't climbing alone.