As if luck had turned in his favor… just like a jealous lover.
Even though his hunting time had become shorter due to the distance from the river, and his fear of nightfall and the predators that came with it, the efficiency of the hunt itself had risen in an unbelievable way.
Terrifyingly so.
Simply put: every minute he spent there was equivalent to half a day of hunting in the dry forest he was used to.
On the very day he discovered the river alone…
He broke through to Level Five.
The same level he had once sworn required a miracle—or the blood of half the forest—to reach.
And now?
He was already approaching Level Six, even though it required a full 250 points!
The number annoyed him the moment he looked at it, yet he couldn't stop a small smile from forming on his lips.
He hadn't expected to advance like this.
But the moment of wish fulfillment ended quickly when he opened the reward chest.
He had been expecting something impressive… at the very least a B-rank elixir, or a new weapon, or even a simple skill.
But what he found was: a single C-rank Accuracy Elixir… one that wouldn't raise the stat and was completely useless.
He stared at it for several long seconds.
It was one of those moments where he felt the system was too embarrassed to say:
"I'm not giving you anything."
So it handed him this elixir as cheap consolation.
Then… some coins.
And… a piece of chocolate?
He held the chocolate between his fingers.
Stared at it.
Sighed.
"Heh… very funny."
He thought it was a tasteless joke…
But it was delicious.
Delicious enough for him to forgive part of the system's lack of respect toward him.
He looked at the reward list again.
It literally looked like a digital trash bin.
In fact, even a trash bin might have contained something better than this.
Then he realized something else… something irritating.
What exactly had he been doing all day?
He had been lying on his stomach near a tree, aiming, and shooting at any animal that dared to come drink.
No tracking…
No chasing…
No tension…
No effort beyond pulling the trigger.
Maybe—just maybe—the system rewarded effort… not just results.
He tried to convince himself of this logic.
He put effort into convincing himself.
Invented justifications.
Tried to find a rational side to it.
But in the end, he lifted his head to the sky and said with complete clarity and honesty:
"Damn it… this. Is. Not. Fair."
He returned his focus.
The reason he had been here in the first place was the capybaras.
Hunt ten of them… and the Network tab would finally unlock.
Nine were already in the bag.
Only one remained.
One… and the reward he had been chasing all week would be fulfilled.
But it seemed these creatures had grown more cautious.
He waited for a long time—longer than usual—until the sun began to withdraw its edges from the sky, and shadows stretched across the riverbank like cold black serpents.
The rational part of him whispered:
Get up. Leave. Night is not the time for hunting.
But the other part…
The part that has ruled every video game player since the dawn of humanity…
Not soda, not rewards…
But the fear of missing out.
The part that doesn't understand the meaning of "tomorrow."
The part that sees only the last one.
The madness of the final target.
And unfortunately… that part was in control now.
He remained still, watching, his eyes half-closed from exhaustion and anticipation.
Then… finally… it appeared.
[Target detected: Giant Capybara]
Rewards: 40 Vital Points or 55 Coins (Optional)
A lone capybara, advancing stupidly toward the water.
Its steps were slow, but it was within his field of vision… within the circle of death…
And stupid enough not to look around even once.
Night, with its purple edges, began to swallow the colors.
Visibility worsened.
His hand trembled more.
And his rifle was no longer as stable as it had been during the day.
But he steadied his breathing, focused on the mass of the body rather than the details…
And ignored all the sounds that were beginning to rise from the forest around him.
He pulled the trigger.
Boom.
The capybara rolled onto its side, its legs kicking in the air before surrendering completely.
The moment it fell, a system notification appeared before his eyes:
[Congratulations! You have completed the side quest: Hunt 10 Capybaras.]
[Would you like to open your reward now?]
He might have thought… or mocked… or negotiated with the screen—who knows.
But all of that vanished in a single instant.
A roar.
Literally a roar that shook the air around him.
He froze.
Turned around slowly, too late.
And for the first time in his life, he violently closed the system window.
Darkness fell.
Completely.
He could see nothing but black lines between the trees.
The hiss of something massive moving through dry grass.
Then…
"Damn it… damn it… I could've waited until tomorrow…"
No one gave him any more time to regret it.
From the heart of the darkness, it appeared—
A massive jaguar, a muscular mass covered in dark fur and hungry eyes.
It didn't hesitate for a moment, didn't issue a warning…
It lunged directly—at his face.
The notification popped up before his eyes with unbearable audacity:
[Target detected: Jaguar]
Rewards: 100 Vital Points or 120 Coins (Optional)
Renji replied from inside his mind with the first thing that came to him:
"Damn it… not your time."
He closed the notification without the slightest hesitation.
All his focus was on the thing leaping toward him, on the mass of dark fur that neither logic nor system could stop.
By sheer luck—or perhaps his recurring stupidity—he raised his arm at the last moment, just to protect his head.
But that meant something else…
That his arm was now between the jaguar's jaws.
And they closed.
A strange moment of silence…
Then—
Craaaack.
The sound no human ever wants to hear coming from their own body.
The sound of bones shattering.