Klein moved.
Not gracefully—six years at a call center desk hadn't prepared him for combat choreography. But he moved with purpose, the trap's timing burned into his mind through an hour of waiting.
The Forest Cat's front leg caught in the rope snare. The creature's weight—maybe seventy kilos of muscle and teeth—yanked the line taut between the rocks. It stumbled, off-balance for half a second.
Klein thrust his spear from the elevated bank.
His form was terrible. Synel would have winced. The Evaluator probably calculated a dozen ways he was doing it wrong. But the iron tip caught the Cat mid-recovery, punching through the softer hide beneath its jaw.
Not deep enough to kill. Just deep enough to hurt.
The Forest Cat screamed—a sound like tearing metal wrapped in biological fury. Blood, darker than it should be, sprayed across Klein's hands. The creature thrashed backward, snapping the rope snare like wet paper.
[EVALUATOR ANALYSIS: First strike successful. Target wounded but combat-capable. Estimated threat reduction: 30%. Probability of retreat: 62%]
Klein didn't wait to see if it would retreat.
He scrambled backward up the bank, boots finding purchase on the muddy slope as he put distance between himself and the wounded predator below. His spear came up in a defensive stance that probably looked ridiculous but gave him the high ground advantage. His heart hammered against his ribs. The Dampening compressed the spike of adrenaline before it could fragment into panic, but he felt it there—fear pressing against the barrier like water against a dam.
The Forest Cat circled at the base of the bank, blood dripping from its jaw. Four eyes tracked Klein with the kind of intelligence that made his skin crawl. Not human intelligence. Predator intelligence. The mathematics of whether prey was worth the energy cost.
Klein's analytical mind ran probability trees even as his hands shook on the spear shaft.
*Wounded predator. Risk-averse hunter. Synel said 40% survival if I could wound it significantly in first exchange. Did I wound it enough?*
The Cat crouched.
Klein saw the muscle tension, the weight shift, the micro-adjustments that meant lunge incoming. His Stalker observation trait—11% and climbing—fed him threat assessment data he didn't consciously understand but his body responded to anyway.
He braced.
The Forest Cat launched itself up the bank with terrifying speed.
Klein thrust again—pure desperation dressed up as tactics. The spear caught the creature in its shoulder, deflecting momentum but not stopping it. Claws raked across Klein's left arm, tearing through wool and canvas and skin like they were tissue paper.
Pain exploded. White-hot and immediate.
[PHYSICAL INTEGRITY: 78% → 71%]
[EMOTIONAL DAMPENING FIELD: 81% → 84% (combat stress compensation)]
The Dampening surged, compressing the pain down to manageable levels. Not erased. Just... filtered. Turned from screaming agony into significant tactical problem.
Klein pivoted with the Cat's momentum, using the spear shaft as a lever to redirect rather than resist. The creature went past him, slamming into the bank wall with a wet thud.
He didn't give it time to recover.
Three steps forward, spear raised overhead—the movement was clumsy, unrefined, the kind of amateur hour that would get him killed against a healthy opponent. But against a wounded predator that had just crashed into stone?
The iron tip punched down into the Forest Cat's spine, just below the skull.
The creature convulsed. Claws tore divots in the earth. Its scream cut off mid-note, replaced by a wet gurgling sound that Klein's Manila instincts recognized as dying.
He kept the spear embedded, putting his full weight on the shaft. Holding it down. His injured arm screamed protest but the Dampening held the pain at manageable levels.
Thirty seconds that felt like hours.
Then the Forest Cat stopped moving.
[COMBAT RESOLVED]
[VICTORY CONDITION MET]
Klein stumbled backward, the spear slipping from his hands. He crashed onto his ass on the muddy bank, breathing like he'd run a marathon. Blood—his blood, the Cat's blood, both mixed together—soaked his torn sleeve.
His analytical mind tried to process what just happened.
I just killed something. Alone. In combat.
I'm not dead.
The second thought came with a surge of hysterical relief that the Dampening had to work overtime to compress.
[EMOTIONAL DAMPENING FIELD: 84% → 87%]
Klein forced himself to stand. His legs trembled. His left arm throbbed with each heartbeat, blood seeping through the torn fabric. The cuts were deep but clean—not arterial, thanks to the Dampening's pain management letting him move effectively during the fight.
He looked down at the Forest Cat's corpse.
Sleek body, maybe five feet long not counting the tail. Powerful limbs designed for ambush hunting. Four eyes glazed over in death. The hide shifted colors even now, instinctively trying to match the muddy bank.
And somewhere inside: a mana crystal. The concentrated essence that made ward maintenance possible.
Fifty silver value. More than two full ward inspections.
Klein knelt, his hands surprisingly steady despite everything. He pulled out his basic knife—ten copper at the marketplace, barely used—and started the messy work of extraction.
He'd never butchered an animal before. Manila poverty had meant buying the cheapest pre-cut meat, not field dressing kills. But his Stalker observation trait fed him instinctive understanding—predator anatomy, weak points, internal structure. His hands moved with confidence his conscious mind didn't possess, guided by borrowed knowledge from creatures that killed for survival.
The initial cuts were exploratory. Peeling back hide that resisted the blade, revealing muscle and connective tissue beneath. The Forest Cat's biology was alien in small ways—extra chambers in what should have been lungs, a cardiovascular system that branched in patterns that made no evolutionary sense.
Klein worked methodically, cutting through the sternum, spreading the ribcage. The smell hit him—iron and meat and something acrid that made his eyes water. He pushed through it.
The crystal was embedded near the heart. Not in the heart—close to it, nestled against the organ like a parasite that had grown there over the creature's lifetime. It pulsed with faint inner light even now, drawing ambient mana from the corpse's residual energy.
Klein's knife work got more careful. One wrong cut and he'd shatter the crystal, destroying its value. The Stalker trait guided him—precise angles, minimal pressure, separating the crystal from surrounding tissue without damaging either.
His hands were wrist-deep in the corpse's chest cavity when the crystal finally came loose.
[Stalker observation: 11% → 18%]
Klein pulled it free, gore dripping from his fingers. The crystal was beautiful in a way that had nothing to do with aesthetics—pure compressed potential, warm to the touch despite being covered in blood. He wiped it clean on his pants, leaving dark stains on the already-filthy canvas.
[MANA CRYSTAL ACQUIRED]
[QUALITY: COMMON]
[ESTIMATED VALUE: 50 silver (local), 75 silver (continental)]
Klein pocketed the crystal carefully, then surveyed himself.
Left arm: three parallel claw wounds, deep but not critical. Bleeding steadily but slowly.
Stamina: Depleted. The adrenaline crash was hitting hard despite the Dampening.
Equipment: Spear intact, knife functional, rope trap destroyed.
Tactical assessment: He'd survived his first solo hunt through preparation, trap-work, and desperate improvisation. The 40% survival odds Synel had quoted felt generous in retrospect.
Klein retrieved his spear, using it as a walking stick as he made his way back toward Thornhaven. Every step sent fresh spikes of pain up his injured arm. The Dampening compressed it into background noise, but it was still there—a reminder that he'd gotten lucky more than skilled.
[TRAIT OBSERVATION UPDATE]
[Stalker: 11% → 21%]
[Forest Ecosystem: 7.2% → 9.1%]
[Elf Scout: 8.1% → 8.7%]
[New Observation: Forest Cat (8%)]
[ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: First Solo Hunt (Wounded)]
[REWARD: +3 PP]
[ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: Predator Slain (Untrained)]
[REWARD: +2 PP]
[CURRENT TOTAL: 10 PP → 15 PP]
Fifteen Potential Points. Enough for the Trait Integration Efficiency upgrade with 3 PP to spare.
Klein's analytical mind catalogued the gains as he walked:
1 mana crystal (50 silver = 500 copper local value)
5 Potential Points earned
10% Stalker observation progress
Combat experience
Proof he could survive alone
The cost:
Destroyed rope trap (15 copper replacement value)
Deep lacerations (medical treatment needed)
Exhaustion (tactical vulnerability until rest)
Confirmation that he was still fundamentally incompetent at combat
The ledger was in his favor. Barely. But survival didn't require dominance. Just solvency.
Klein pushed through the forest, using landmarks he'd memorized on the way out. The tributary stream. The Rendered Bear territorial markers. The ward post boundaries. Each step was calculation—conserve energy, maintain awareness, don't get ambushed while wounded.
He was maybe half a kilometer from Thornhaven's perimeter when he heard voices.
Klein stopped, ducking behind a thick tree trunk. His grip tightened on the spear despite his injured arm's protest.
Two figures emerged from the undergrowth ahead. Human, both of them. Male, late twenties or early thirties. One had a golden Hail that pulsed with controlled discipline. The other's crimson Hail flickered with barely contained aggression.
They were arguing.
"—don't care about Marcus's politics," the Divine one was saying. "If that Neutral spawn caused Rajesh's execution, he's not safe to keep around."
"Caused?" The Demonic one laughed, sharp and bitter. "Aldric made the call. The spawn just gave him an excuse. You want to talk about who's really responsible?"
"Rajesh was probably innocent."
"'Probably' doesn't keep settlements alive. You know that as well as I do."
They passed within ten meters of Klein's hiding spot, neither noticing him. Their voices faded into the forest.
Klein waited a full minute before moving again, his heart rate elevated despite the Dampening's compression.
So that's the settlement's opinion forming. Some blame me. Some blame Aldric. Some call it necessary triage.
The ledger keeps growing.
He continued toward Thornhaven, his wounded arm throbbing with each step.
The guard at the north gate was the same human from yesterday—scarred hands, golden Hail, thirty years of pre-death experience visible in his weathered face. He took one look at Klein's torn, bloody sleeve and raised his weapon.
"What happened?"
"Forest Cat. Eastern sector. It's dead." Klein showed the mana crystal as proof.
The guard's expression shifted through surprise, skepticism, and grudging respect in the span of three seconds. "You hunted alone? Day two?"
"I hunted prepared. There's a difference."
"Apparently." The guard lowered his weapon. "Get that arm looked at. Brunhilde does basic medical work if you can't afford a proper healer. And Klein?" He paused. "Most fresh spawns don't make it past week one. You might be different."
Klein nodded his thanks and pushed through the gate into Thornhaven proper.
The marketplace was winding down for the evening, vendors packing their wares as twilight approached. Klein's appearance—blood-soaked, exhausted, but walking—drew stares.
He made his way to Brunhilde's stall.
The dwarf weaponsmith looked up from her ledger, took in Klein's condition, and sighed. "You actually went hunting. Day two. With zero training."
"I went hunting with preparation and a trap." Klein set his spear against her counter. "I need medical supplies. And I'm selling this."
He placed the mana crystal on the counter.
Brunhilde picked it up, held it to the fading light, examined it with the practiced eye of someone who'd handled thousands. "Forest Cat. Clean extraction, no cracks. Good work." She met his eyes. "Fifty silver local rate, seventy-five continental. I'll give you forty-five and throw in medical treatment."
Klein's mind ran the mathematics. Forty-five silver = 450 copper. Medical treatment at the settlement healer was reportedly 30 copper minimum. Brunhilde was offering fair value minus a modest service charge.
"Deal," he said.
Brunhilde nodded, pocketing the crystal and pulling out a first aid kit from beneath her counter. "Sit."
Klein sat on the stool she provided. Brunhilde cut away his torn sleeve with efficient movements, revealing the three parallel claw wounds. They were deep but clean, already clotting thanks to the baseline optimization.
"You got lucky," Brunhilde said as she cleaned the wounds with something that burned like concentrated regret. "Quarter-inch deeper and you'd have nerve damage. Half-inch and you'd have bled out in the forest."
"I'll take lucky over skilled if it keeps me breathing."
"Smart attitude." She applied some kind of salve that smelled like pine tar and antiseptic. "This'll prevent infection and speed healing. Change the dressing daily. Come back in three days and I'll check for complications. If you develop fever or the wounds start weeping, get to a real healer immediately."
She wrapped his arm in clean bandages with practiced efficiency. "There. That's worth the five silver I'm charging you in the differential."
Klein tested his arm mobility. The pain was present but manageable, the Dampening and the salve working in tandem. "Thank you."
Brunhilde counted out forty-five silver coins—each one worth ten copper. "Forty-five silver. That's 450 copper if you break it down at the money changer. My advice? Keep some as silver. It's easier to carry and harder to spend on stupid shit."
Klein pocketed the coins, their weight significant against his hip. From zero copper this morning to 450 copper tonight. The mathematics of survival had just shifted dramatically.
"And Klein?" Brunhilde's golden Hail pulsed thoughtfully. "Whatever else people say about the Rajesh situation—you're a survivor. That counts for something in Thornhaven."
Klein left the stall with his arm bandaged, his pouch heavy with silver, and the weight of reputation settling on his shoulders like snow accumulating slowly but inevitably.
The inn's common room was busy with the dinner crowd. Klein approached Mira at the bar, pulling out one of his silver coins.
"Can you break this? And I need dinner."
Mira took the silver coin, studied it briefly, then counted out ten copper pieces from her till. She pocketed the silver and gestured to an empty table. "Stew's twenty copper tonight. Actual meat, not dried rations. Vegetables. Bread that's fresh."
Klein handed her two of the copper coins she'd just given him. "I'll take it."
The meal arrived within minutes. Klein studied it with the appreciation of someone who'd spent six years calculating the exact minimum calories needed to function. The stew had chunks of venison that looked and smelled real. The vegetables were recognizable—carrots, potatoes, something green that might have been local equivalent of cabbage. The bread was still warm.
He ate slowly, letting his body absorb the nutrition.
[Physical Integrity: 71% → 73%]
He was halfway through when Lyra crashed into the chair across from him with her characteristic lack of spatial awareness.
"You're bleeding through your bandage," she said by way of greeting.
Klein looked down. She was right—a small red spot was seeping through the white cloth. "Noticed that, did you?"
"Hard to miss. Also you're trending in the evening gossip circuit." Lyra leaned forward, crimson Hail pulsing with curiosity. "Apparently the no-Hail Metamorphor went hunting alone on day two and came back alive. People are impressed. And suspicious. And betting on how long you'll survive."
"What are the odds?"
"Three-to-one you die within the week. Seven-to-one you make it to week two. Fifteen-to-one you survive the first month." She grinned. "I put money on you making it to week three. Your survival instinct seems sharper than your combat skills."
Klein finished his meal, processing the information. Gambling on survival odds was apparently normal in Thornhaven. He filed that away under cultural observations that say something disturbing about this world.
"I'm going to go upgrade my character sheet," Klein said, standing. "Try not to crash into anyone on your way out."
"No promises!" Lyra called after him cheerfully.
Klein's room felt smaller tonight. Maybe because he'd just come from facing death in the open forest. Maybe because the walls reminded him too much of detention cells and failure and the weight of choices that couldn't be unmade.
He sat on his bed and focused inward.
[NEUTRAL SYSTEM: STATUS CHECK]
[PHYSICAL STATE]
Integrity: 73% (wounded but stable)
Stamina: 41% (combat exhaustion)
[MENTAL STATE]
Dampening Efficiency: 87% (elevated from combat stress, stable)
[BALANCE METER]
Current: 46.0% Divine / 54.0% Demonic
Status: Acceptable deviation maintained
[POTENTIAL POINTS: 15 PP]
Fifteen points. Klein pulled up the Trait Acceleration shop.
[TRAIT INTEGRATION EFFICIENCY - Cost: 12 PP]
[Effect: Reduce trait completion threshold by 20% (80% observation grants full trait access)]
[Duration: Permanent]
He stared at the option. This was the logical choice. His Stalker observation was at 21% after today's hunt—if he could access traits at 80% instead of 100%, that cut his required observation time by a fifth. Compound efficiency gains.
But there was another consideration.
Klein switched to the System Upgrades category and found what he was looking for.
[EVALUATOR UPGRADE: ENHANCED ANALYSIS - Cost: 15 PP]
[Effect: Improves tactical analysis accuracy by 40%, expands probability assessment range, adds environmental hazard detection]
[Duration: Permanent]
The Evaluator had given him 40% survival odds against the Forest Cat. It had been more like 60% in practice because of his preparation. If the baseline Evaluator was that inaccurate, upgrading it might save his life more than faster trait acquisition.
Klein's analytical mind ran the calculation trees.
Trait Integration Efficiency: Faster power growth, earlier combat effectiveness, compounds over time.
Enhanced Evaluator: Better tactical decisions, improved survival odds per engagement, immediate utility.
I can earn more PP through survival and achievements. But I can't earn anything if I'm dead.
The Evaluator is life insurance. Trait Integration is investment portfolio.
Insurance first. Investment second.
Klein made the purchase.
[CONFIRM: EVALUATOR UPGRADE: ENHANCED ANALYSIS]
[COST: 15 PP]
[PURCHASE CONFIRMED]
[REMAINING BALANCE: 0 PP]
[EVALUATOR UPGRADED: Enhanced Analysis active]
*[Accuracy improvement: +40%]*
[New functions: Environmental hazard detection, resource assessment, long-term planning projections]
Klein felt something shift in his awareness—not physical, but in how information processed. The world felt slightly more detailed, threat assessments more nuanced.
He pulled up his status one more time before sleeping.
[CURRENT STATUS SUMMARY]
Copper: 458 (45 silver + 8 copper remaining)
Equipment: Iron spear, basic knife, torn clothing, medical supplies needed
Injuries: Healing claw wounds (3-5 day recovery)
Contracts: Ward inspection (60 copper weekly)
Potential Points: 0
Trait Progress: Stalker 21%, Elf Scout 8.7%, Forest Cat 8%
Balance: 46% Divine / 54% Demonic
The mathematics had shifted. He'd survived his first solo hunt. Earned real money. Upgraded his primary tactical system. Proven—to himself and the settlement—that he could function in combat despite having zero training.
The cost was written in bandages and blood loss and the settlement's growing opinion of him as someone who made hard choices and lived with them.
Klein lay down on his bed, his injured arm throbbing despite the salve and the Dampening's compression.
Tomorrow he'd complete his contracted ward inspection. Buy replacement equipment. Maybe find Synel for that spear training he'd been promised. Start planning his next hunt.
The ledger kept growing. The weight kept accumulating. But Klein was still alive to carry it.
That was enough.
[EMOTIONAL DAMPENING FIELD: 87% → 82% (stabilizing during rest)]
Sleep came slowly, accompanied by phantom sensations of claws and the wet sound of a spear punching through flesh.
Klein dreamed of scales and blood and copper coins that never quite added up to redemption.