The place was not far from the road where Glen had lost consciousness. During the fight in the forest, he had been able to see it, so he hadn't lost his way.
His vision swam in and out of focus; his body felt as limp as a mollusk, and he longed to sleep right there on the ground.
But based on the original owner's memories, this place was incredibly eerie and terrifying. If he closed his eyes here, he might never open them again.
Night had fallen completely. A full moon hung silently in the darkness, its silver light illuminating the path ahead, yet Glen felt not a shred of comfort.
Ahead, a dilapidated signpost tilted crookedly by the roadside, inscribed in the common language of this world's humans: BAYEK.
This was the "good place" that the original owner, Dylan, had chosen.
He had thought himself lucky to buy such a cheap house, secretly gloating about it for quite some time.
It wasn't until the landlord brought him to this town that he felt something was slightly off.
Glen, face pale, crossed the signpost. A cold wind blew past, causing the sign to creak with a grating sound.
Let's hope there are no monsters at night, Glen prayed inwardly.
Flipping through his memories, ever since the original owner moved into this town, he had heard spine-chilling, strange sounds every night.
On several occasions, it seemed like something was scraping against his window.
Because of this, the original owner hadn't slept well for days.
The town of Bayek at night was utterly silent—so silent it was suffocating.
Glen did his best to make no sound, walking slowly along the stone-paved road.
Tall weeds grew between the cracks in the stones, adding to the desolate atmosphere.
He had to endure the pain while also staying vigilant against possible dangers around him. Glen's spirit was exhausted.
Finally, he saw his house. It sat between two larger buildings, vegetation climbing up its exterior walls, looking shabby compared to the neighbors.
The original owner, Dylan, had bought a two-story civilian house, complete with a garden and a dilapidated warehouse barely larger than a doghouse.
Finally here... Glen thought with relief, and quickened his pace.
Woof! Woof! Woof!
Suddenly, frantic barking erupted, nearly scaring Glen out of his wits.
In the dead silence of the night, such a loud sound would startle anyone.
He turned to look and saw a muscular bulldog, its eyes gleaming with malice as it bared its teeth and barked at him.
This was the dog belonging to the neighbor next door. The owner was a tall old man who liked to bully the original owner. He had a strange temper and often took things from Dylan's house without asking, acting as if they were his own.
This bulldog, emboldened by its owner, often chased and bit Dylan, tearing up several sets of his clothes.
The original owner had once been a spoiled rich kid, but after his family's misfortunes, his temperament had changed greatly. Moreover, the old man was clearly stronger than him, and Dylan couldn't resist.
On top of that, the old man often carried a hunting rifle, making Dylan even more afraid to cause trouble.
Glen stopped, his eyes cold as he looked at the bulldog, his right hand already reaching for his dagger.
The bulldog suddenly sniffed the air hard, its eyes revealing an excited gleam.
It smelled blood.
With a series of low growls, it licked its teeth and approached Glen.
Noticing the bulldog's change, Glen remained in place, his right hand already gripping the dagger tightly.
He could see clearly—this beast wanted to eat human flesh today! He wouldn't hold back.
Perhaps because it was used to bullying Dylan, the bulldog showed no respect for humans and continued to approach. When it was only two meters away, it lunged!
Glen reacted swiftly, sidestepping while his dagger carved a perfect arc, stabbing precisely into the bulldog's neck.
Man and dog crossed paths; Glen stumbled but nearly fell, while the dog collapsed on the ground, twitching.
Glen was surprised to find that although his spirit was weary, his strength had recovered considerably.
He had thought he would fall over, but he actually steadied himself.
He didn't bother wondering why. Without a glance at the wailing beast, he walked straight into his yard, retrieved the key from under a stone, and opened the door.
The house smelled of mildew, but it wasn't too strong.
Glen had no mind to examine the furnishings; he just wanted to rest.
He closed the door, stepped onto the wooden stairs, and rushed without pause toward his bedroom.
The moment he pushed open the bedroom door, his entire body collapsed onto the relatively soft bed.
The tense nerves finally relaxed, and his consciousness began to blur...
He didn't know how long he slept. In a half-dreaming, half-awake state, Glen felt a powerful hunger in his stomach, making him uncomfortable, but he had no desire to get up.
He was too exhausted—even this hunger couldn't pull him from the bed.
Just as his consciousness was about to sink back into sleep, he seemed to hear the sound of some creature gnawing.
Outside the bedroom window.
The bright full moon shone its light into the bedroom. A slender figure swayed outside the window.
A long, thin forelimb slowly scraped across the wall, making a slight, sharp scratching sound. Clearly, this creature had claws...
The Next Day.
Glen was awakened by intense hunger.
The moment his bloodshot eyes opened, he jumped out of bed. After resting, his spirit was no longer as exhausted as yesterday, only the hunger continued to torment him.
Glen had never experienced such hunger; it almost destroyed his sanity, making him want to devour everything in sight.
He rushed out of the bedroom and straight to the kitchen, remembering that the original owner had left some leftovers and ingredients.
After a chaotic rummage, Glen had turned the kitchen upside down.
Whether it was leftover food, raw vegetables, or moldy items, he swallowed them all voraciously. Only then did the terrible hunger ease slightly.
What on earth is going on? Logically, after being hungry for just a day and night, I shouldn't be this ravenous, Glen thought, sitting on the messy kitchen floor with a deep frown.
It still feels like I'm starving. I must eat more... Glen sat for a moment before climbing to his feet.
He suddenly let out a sound of surprise because he realized his body seemed much stronger. When he stood up, he felt particularly powerful.
Glen touched his arm and could feel that his muscles had become solid, and they were noticeably larger than before.
Is this because I crossed over? Is my golden finger physical enhancement? Glen didn't have the heart to think too much about it now; finding food was the priority, so he temporarily set aside his questions.
He searched the house again but couldn't find anything else edible, which made Glen quite troubled.
Should I go outside the town to buy food? Glen sat on the sofa in the living room, thinking.
This small town had no place for trade; the residents of Bayek all went elsewhere to do business.
To obtain resources, he had to go to another town, but the journey wasn't short—usually requiring an early start and late return.
His remaining money was also limited... Just as Glen was pondering, he heard a familiar voice shouting from outside.
"Torre! Torre! Where are you, my darling?"
It was the old man's voice. Torre was the dog's name.
Hearing this voice, Glen suddenly smiled...