The forest breathed. The trees towered high into the sky, their ancient trunks gnarled and weathered by time.
Sunlight lanced through the thick canopy above in golden shafts, illuminating patches of mossy earth and fallen leaves that rustled softly beneath the pounding rhythm of Ezekiel's feet.
The wind sang in his ears, a wild, jubilant song, pulling at his hair and caressing his skin as he ran like a phantom between trees, roots, and stones.
He had never felt more alive.
Each step was filled with power—his limbs moved effortlessly, as if the earth itself supported his speed. His senses were heightened: he could smell the rich loam of the forest floor, the sweetness of blooming thornfruits, and the distant musk of creatures hiding in the underbrush.
His breath came fast but not strained, and his heart beat a steady tempo in his chest.
It wasn't that he had never played a VR game before, but none had come even close to the reality that ReLife portrayed.
ReLife was more than just a game. It was freedom—raw, unfiltered life pulsing through every vein.
In the hours since his arrival, Ezekiel hadn't truly stopped to appreciate it. There had been too much to do—tracking the wolf pack for Ariel's Dilemma, watching his back for opportunistic players, fighting exhaustion. But now? Now he flew through the forest like a shadow unbound.
The thrill of speed wasn't the only thing that stirred Ezekiel. It was the purity of the world around him.
Unlike the smog-choked, concrete sprawl of reality, this place was untamed, untouched. Trees stretched toward the heavens without ever being cut down. Rivers flowed without dams. Wildlife lived and died without human interference. Here, Ezekiel wasn't just another cog in a machine—he was something more.
He passed a pair of Level 8 Demon Bears lumbering near a mossy boulder—hulking beasts with bristled black fur, glowing red eyes, and tusks protruding from their lower jaws. Their nostrils flared, but they didn't chase him.
A Level 9 Berserk Gorilla thumped its chest and roared from a cliff edge in the distance, clearly asserting dominance, but Ezekiel passed it without incident. A Level 10 Vine Viper slithered across a tree branch, its leafy scales almost indistinguishable from the foliage. Then came a flash of movement—a Level 14 Evil Jaguar prowling in the shadows, its coat dark as midnight and eyes glowing green with malice.
They only watched him pass by. None of them attacked.
He was still under Opera's protection—the life-saving safeguard for low-level players. The monsters wouldn't touch him unless provoked.
It was why he'd resisted hunting more wolves to earn more free stat points from Ariel's Dilemma. Leveling up too fast in the initial days wasn't necessarily a good thing in ReLife.
If he hadn't held back, he'd have ended up clawed, bitten, or worse, long before reaching the White Stone Cave. And besides, the view—this sensation—was worth far more than a few stat points that he could easily earn from many other simpler quests.
After nearly two hours of running, Ezekiel finally began to feel the strain. His stamina dipped, and his HP fell slightly—90/100. Nothing serious, but enough to make him slow down. He exhaled, letting his momentum fade as he switched to a walk.
He hadn't brought any food or HP recovery items. He didn't need to. All players had a basic HP recovery rate of 1% every 2 minutes, as long as they're not in combat.
ReLife also didn't rely on hunger mechanics. Players didn't starve, and those using high-end Crash Pods—like himself—received real-world nutrition through the pod itself.
Lower-tier players simply logged out between sessions to eat. Of course, food in-game had its uses: some restored HP, some granted buffs, but most simply added flavor to the world. And for those playing with over 90% sync, it could also satiate their hunger and transfer nutrition to their bodies in real life.
Ezekiel just hadn't bothered restocking. He knew this forest. He knew which fruits were edible and which streams were safe to drink from.
If he felt like it, he'd get something to eat after clearing the dungeon.
One hour in the real world equated to two hours in the game, and he still had almost 97 hours before his next log-out. More than enough time.
Ten more minutes of walking passed, and then—splash.
The soothing sound of rushing water reached his ears. Ezekiel perked up. That had to be the Hydra Lake, the vast emerald body of water that fed the entire forest surrounding Fwerah.
But something else followed the sound—a sharp, pained cry, high and ragged. Like a beast in distress.
He froze.
It wasn't just a roar or a warning call. It was agony.
He considered ignoring it—his HP hadn't fully regenerated—but curiosity and instinct pulled him toward the sound. Quieting his steps, he turned sharply and moved through the trees.
The closer he came, the louder the stream became, until sunlight suddenly poured through the canopy. Ezekiel stepped out from the forest's shade—and stopped in awe.
Before him stretched the most beautiful body of water he had ever seen.
The water sparkled like precious jewels under the sun. Vivid emerald waves lapped gently against the rocky shore, and crystal-clear depths revealed stones and plants shimmering far beneath the surface.
The light fractured through the water like a kaleidoscope, painting the world in moving green and gold. Birds chirped in nearby trees. Mist floated above the surface like a breathless sigh. The beauty was breathtaking.
Such a sight was impossible in the real world. There, lakes were brown with runoff and choked with algae blooms. Here? It was unsullied.
Ezekiel remained still for a few heartbeats, lost in the wonder—until the cry came again.
Sharper now. Closer.
He squinted toward the sound and caught sight of shattered fragments nestled between the rocks. Pale icy blue shards.
An egg?
He approached slowly, tension creeping into his limbs. As he neared, he saw it—half an eggshell, cracked open.
A long, dark gray tail twitched feebly from within.
A hatchling.
And not just any hatchling.
Ezekiel's heart stuttered in his chest.
He knelt beside the broken shell, his gaze fixed. The tail was smooth, serpent-like, but powerful. This was no ordinary monster spawn. This was something far rarer.
A Hydra.
The lake was named after the legendary Hydra that made its nest in a cave beneath the waters. It was part of an Epic-tier quest line that didn't even unlock until Level 15. Ezekiel had planned to tackle it later.
And yet...here was a newborn.
Alone. Wounded. Crying.
Ezekiel looked around warily. Hydras were notoriously overprotective. A mother should have been close by, raging, ready to defend her offspring.
But the lake remained still. No rumble. No ripple. No sudden emergence of a leviathan beast. Not even a sight of another beast or monster.
He waited for as long as twenty minutes. Nothing changed.
The hatchling remained in its shell, still crying. It hadn't moved except for the occasional tail twitch. Its body remained mostly hidden, and Ezekiel couldn't see the source of its pain.
But... why is it alone?
He frowned, suspicious.
Is this a trap?
No. Hydras at this level didn't possess such intelligence. Elaborate ambushes were characteristics of higher-level monsters, usually 40 and above.
This was just... strange.
Even the hatchling—despite its hereditary sensitive senses—had yet to notice him.
He shifted closer and cleared his throat.
The cries stopped immediately.
The tail lifted, tense. The hatchling was aware of him now. Ezekiel could feel its fear radiating outward like heat from a fire. For a long moment, neither moved.
He didn't know why he stayed. He should have turned away. This hatchling's mother—if she was still around or alive—might be one of the monsters he'd have to kill later.
But this creature was alone. Abandoned. Vulnerable.
It reminded him of himself.
Ezekiel gave a soft, bitter chuckle.
"I can't believe I'm relating to a monster," he murmured.
He reached out to gently remove the broken shell that covered it.
But the hatchling hissed violently, and the shell jerked away as if alive, rolling beyond his reach.
Ezekiel frowned. He circled around and tried again, this time faster. As the hatchling prepared to flee again, he snatched its tail.
A shrill whistle erupted from within the shell, sharp enough to make him flinch. The hatchling screamed in defiance. Ezekiel tightened his grip—not to harm, just to keep it still—and scanned the lake. A single movement, and he was ready to use Stealth and make a run for it.
But there was still no sign of a mother.
"Calm down," he whispered. "I just want to help."
He peered into the shell—and froze.
Five sets of golden eyes glared at him from within.
Five.
The hatchling had five tiny necks, each supporting a separate head. It was like a miniature hydra, each serpent-like head flicking back and forth in challenge. The heads were no bigger than his fingers. Their glossy, slick bodies shimmered like wet pearls.
They stared at him, angry. Suspicious. Fearful.
He grinned in spite of himself. "You've got spirit. I like that."
He slowly peeled the remaining shell away, revealing its full form.
A crocodilian body, sleek and muscular, ending in those five necks and ten glowing golden eyes. It was no larger than a Leachie Gecko. He found it slightly unbelievable how such a small thing would one day grow to be five meters tall.
"I'm not going to hurt you," Ezekiel said gently, attempting to calm its fears through the sound of his calm voice. The hatchling wouldn't be able to understand him, but at least it could comprehend his attitude and actions to be safe.
"But... I don't think you trust me." He smirked. "Smart. Don't trust us players. For most of us, you're just a bundle of easy EXP."
Suddenly, the hatchling froze. All of its eyes widened comically in shock. Its body trembled.
Ezekiel blinked. "Wait… you understood me?"
That shouldn't be possible. Non-humanoid monsters didn't have language comprehension until at least Level 50.
The Hydra Lake was home to a Level 20 Hydra. The creature before him should be its offspring . Although he couldn't see its level since it was still in its infancy stage, it made no sense that the hatchling could comprehend his words.
Is it instinctual? Or am I missing something?
And where was the mother? Could it be that it hadn't spawned because any player had yet to reach Level 15 and trigger the relevant quest chain?
Then how did this hatchling get here?
The hatchling's shuddering intensified. It stared at him as if he'd just pronounced its death sentence.
He cursed under his breath. "No, no—I didn't mean that. I'm not like them."
But his sloppy backtracking only made things worse. The hatchling let out a shrill scream, twisting, thrashing—desperate to escape. Ezekiel held on grimly but sighed.
"Fine. Let's try this."
He pulled out a health potion from his inventory.
{Basic Health Potion}
• Heals the user by 5% of their HP every 2 Seconds for the duration of 30 Seconds.
• Removes all Basic-grade status effects.
"See this?" he said, uncapping it. "This is a health potion. You've got good senses, right? You can tell it's not poison."
The hatchling's hissing subsided. All five heads turned toward the vial, nostrils flaring. Suspicious. Intrigued.
"I don't know where you're hurt. But this should help."
After a long pause, the middle head stuck out its tongue and slowly licked the potion. One lick became two, and then it began to drink, cautiously.
Ezekiel waited, watching.
As the final drop disappeared, a soft glow emerged from its stomach.
There— a deep gash. He hadn't noticed it earlier as the hatchling had been lying on its stomach this whole time.
The light spread. The wound closed.
The hatchling's breathing evened. Its color brightened.
He smiled. "There we go."
He let go of its tail. Surprisingly, the hatchling didn't run.
Its eyes watched him. Wary, but no longer afraid.
Ezekiel stood and dusted his pants.
"Go home, little one. It's dangerous out here."
The words tasted strange. Bittersweet. Hypocritical. He knew he might kill it one day—part of the quest, part of survival.
But for now? For now, he could afford to let it live.
He turned away.
No ripples stirred the lake. No shadows loomed.
With one last look at the sparkling waters, Ezekiel set his sights once more on the White Stone Cave.
Time to move forward.