Ethan lay against the gnarled roots of an ancient tree, the immediate threat neutralized, but the echoes of the fight still reverberating through his battered body. He was bleeding again, not profusely, but enough to remind him of his fragility. The Infected was dead, its contorted form a gruesome testament to his desperate victory. He looked at the System's display, the faint blue text a stark contrast to the verdant, blood-splattered forest.
Host Status: Ethan Miller
Health: 3/10 (Critical – Severe lacerations, blunt force trauma, significant blood loss).
Stamina: 1/10 (Critical – Extreme exertion, shock).
Strength: 2 (Crippled)
Agility: 1 (Crippled)
Perception: 3 (Impaired – fever, pain).
Current BP: 3.
His first priority was to patch himself up. He fumbled inside the backpack he'd found, pulling out the remaining strips of clean-ish cloth. His hands, though still shaking, moved with a practiced efficiency born from months of living in this hell. He ripped the cloth into narrower strips, then, gritting his teeth against the waves of pain, he began to bind the fresh gashes on his arm and side. The crude bandages were far from sterile, but they would have to do. The System silently updated his Health to 3.5/10 (Bleeding reduced), a minimal but vital improvement.
Then, the Battle Points. Three precious points, earned through agonizing struggle. He needed to be smart about this. He knew his body was his only real weapon now.
BP Allocation Interface:
Available BP: 3.
Allocate to:
Strength (Current: 2) -> Cost: 1 BP
Agility (Current: 1) -> Cost: 1 BP
Endurance (Current: 4) -> Cost: 1 BP
Perception (Current: 3) -> Cost: 1 BP
Note: Endurance attribute includes resilience to damage, stamina regeneration, and resistance to illness/infection.
Endurance first. He couldn't risk infection or further physical breakdown. He mentally allocated one point.
BP Allocated: 1.
Endurance increased to 5.
Host Health Status Improvement: Health now 4.5/10 (Stabilized – Minor healing detected, infection resistance significantly improved).
Stamina: 5/10 (Low – minor restoration).
A fresh wave of subtle relief washed over him, a deep thrumming beneath his skin. The fever receded another fraction, and the dull ache in his bones eased. He could feel his body fighting back with renewed vigor, a tiny spark of regeneration at work.
Now for the rest. He had two points left. Strength would let him hit harder, Agility would let him move faster. Both were critical. He remembered how easily the Infected had dodged his first swing, how brutally it had slammed into him. He needed both. But if he had to choose for immediate survival...
He looked at his battered bat, at the mangled body of the Infected. He needed to put more power behind his swings. He needed to finish fights faster.
He allocated one point to Strength.
BP Allocated: 1.
Strength increased to 3.
Host Status: Strength (Current: 3 - Temporarily weakened)
A faint surge of energy coursed through his limbs, a promise of returning power. The bat felt marginally lighter, more manageable.
One point remaining. No question. Agility.
BP Allocated: 1.
Agility increased to 2.
Host Status: Agility (Current: 2 - Temporarily impaired)
It was still 'impaired' but no longer 'crippled.' A small victory, but one that could mean the difference between life and death. He could feel a faint spring returning to his step, a slight improvement in his balance. It wasn't the lightning-fast reflexes of his old System, but it was a start.
He looked around the grim grove. The quiet was oppressive. He needed to put distance between himself and the dead Infected. The lingering smell of blood was a beacon. He still had a few sips of water in the bottle and a crushed granola bar. It wouldn't last.
He rose slowly, testing his improved, though still painful, movements. He could feel the slight boost in his Endurance, a deeper well of energy available if he pushed himself. His Strength felt marginally more capable. His Agility, though still low, wasn't a complete liability.
He had no map, no GPS, no helpful System markers guiding him. Just his internal compass and the knowledge of the future plot points from his past life. He needed to head generally southwest, towards what he knew would eventually be Hershel's Farm. It was a long shot, a desperate gamble, but it was his only path.
He scanned the immediate vicinity, picking up the discarded backpack. He rummaged through it again. Nothing else useful. He moved past the dead Infected, making sure its head was fully destroyed. No second chances.
The forest was a maze, but he tried to orient himself by the sun's position, remembering snippets of old wilderness survival guides. Head towards the late afternoon sun for southwest. It was imprecise, but it was a start.
As he moved, carefully pushing through the undergrowth, every rustle, every distant groan, sent a jolt of alarm through him. He was no longer passively receiving alerts from his System. He had to feel it, sense it, relying on his own sharpened (though still low) Perception and raw instinct. This was true survival, raw and unfiltered.
He would scavenge. He would kill. He would grow stronger. And he would find Lily. The Greene Farm was his next destination, and he would cut a bloody path through this new, horrifying reality to get there.