James gathered sticks, dry leaves, and whatever scraps of brush he could carry, stuffing them under one arm as he hiked back up the rocky slope. The mountain's edge gave him a decent view of the treetops below, a silent sea of green swaying beneath dusk's approach.
He set the kindling down and began arranging it in a shallow pit he'd dug earlier. Sticks in a crisscross. Leaves for catching the spark. Muscle memory took over.
"My dad used to take me camping," James muttered to no one in particular, tossing another stick onto the pile. "Every summer. Just the two of us. No school. No noise. No work. Just fire and stars."
He paused. His hands slowed. "I always wanted to take my son someday."
The air chilled, like the mountain had drawn a breath.
He could still picture the boy — messy hair, loud laugh, those little hands tugging on his sleeve to point at every rock and squirrel. The last good memory. Before the rest burned it all down.
James blinked.
And across the fire pit, something moved.
A boy sat there. Pale. Barefoot. Hollow eyes fixed on him like knives in the dark.
"Why did you leave us, Daddy?" the ghost whispered.
James's breath caught. His chest caved in.
"I… I don't know," he rasped. "I tried. I tried to bring you back. I swear I did…"
Tears fell before he could stop them. His shoulders trembled.
"But I can't," he growled. "So I'll avenge you instead."
Above, hidden in the rising twilight, Nysilus hovered on a gust of wind. Watching. Smiling faintly.
"He might have what it takes," the fairy whispered to himself.
The ghost vanished. The fire sparked to life.
James pulled up a few more sticks and skewered the meat he'd stored in his inventory — ash-boar, faintly glowing along the edges like the animal's mana hadn't quite died with it.
He held the meat over the flame, watching it sizzle. The warmth helped him focus.
"I'm grabbing materials for a bed," he muttered, standing. "Stay put."
"Rude," Nysilus said, reclining mid-air. "But fine. Before you go running off into the woods again, try checking your Accessory and Weapons tab. The system's good for more than just killer outfits."
James raised an eyebrow but opened the window anyway. The crafting options flickered into view — dull gray text next to glowing outlines of tools and weapons.
[CRAFTABLE ITEMS – BASED ON CURRENT INVENTORY:]– Bone Bottles (x3) – Cost: 30 Bones– Weighted Chain Trap – Cost: 80 Bones, 1 Beast Core– Mana-Linked Spear – Cost: 500 Bones, 25 Beast Cores, 2 Mana Cores– Smoke Bombs, Arrows, Cloaks, etc. (LOCKED – Insufficient Materials)
James stared at the numbers. His lips twisted in disbelief.
"Five hundred bones?" he muttered. "What the hell am I supposed to kill — a graveyard?"
Still, he made his choice.
Bones used: 30. Bottles crafted: 3.Bones used: 80. Beast Core used: 1. Trap crafted: Weighted Chain.
"Bottles'll help with water," he said, mostly to himself. "And the chain…"
"What's that for?" Nysilus asked, circling lazily overhead.
"I'll use it to set traps around the area. Keep things from sneaking up while I'm gone."
He turned toward the woods, grabbing two bottles and tying the chain to his belt.
"Going to the lake. Watch my stuff."
"Oh, absolutely," Nysilus said sweetly, hands clasped like a choir boy.
James didn't trust the smile. It was too wide. Too sharp.
"Be careful," the fairy whispered, eyes glowing faint violet as the fire crackled behind him.
James worked methodically as he made his way back down the mountain — stopping every few trees to lash a section of the chain between trunks or rig a crude tripline. He used what he had: sharpened sticks, jagged stones, whatever could slow something down.
Not kill, he reminded himself. Just buy me time.
He dropped into a crouch near a ledge, sweat forming at his brow despite the cool air. His traps weren't pretty, but they'd do.
As he moved closer to the lake, the air began to change.
The mist rolled in thicker now, clinging to his skin like damp wool. It wasn't fog — not really. It pushed, like a presence. A weight. The kind of pressure that made your ears ring.
James paused, rubbing his temples. His head throbbed with every step. He blinked, and the trees seemed to blur at the edges. His vision tilted. Uneasy.
"The hell is this…?" he muttered, staggering forward.
He tried to breathe steady, but each inhale made his head throb harder. His thoughts grew sluggish, stumbling over themselves as possibilities spun in his brain.
"Hallucinogenic mist?""Magical interference?""Psychic beast aura?"
He didn't know what was worse — that all of those were possible… or that none of them would surprise him.
By the time he reached the shore, his legs were shaking. He dropped to his knees, trying to steady his hands as he uncapped a bone bottle and dipped it into the dark, glassy surface.
The moment the bottle touched the water—
RUN.
The word didn't come from his own thoughts. It hit him like a hammer to the chest. A command. A survival instinct carved into something older than memory.
James jumped back, stumbling over a root just as the water exploded in front of him.
A monstrous shape burst from the lake — sleek, wet, and massive. Its body was thick like a catfish crossed with a crocodile, fins jagged like broken glass. Its eyes were lidless, silver, and burning with hunger.
[WILD BEAST ENCOUNTERED: "Lake-Dweller, E-Rank"]– Type: Aquatic Ambush Predator– Status: Active / Hunting– Weak Point: Unanalyzed– Danger Level: Severe
James stared in open horror.
E-Rank? he thought. That's one step up from the ash-boars. I'm already this outmatched?
Nysilus was whistling a tune no human had ever heard, casually using magic to shape a massive leaf into a hammock. He plumped a mossy lump with the air of a man fluffing a pillow in a five-star hotel.
"Ohh yes," he hummed. "This is the luxury package. I should start charging system points for this."
Then came the sound. Distant, but clear.
SPLASH. A crash like thunder. The shriek of something not from this world.
The fairy stopped mid-pose, frowning toward the lake.
He didn't move to help.
But his eyes narrowed, and for a moment, his playfulness drained into something older. Something colder.
"Don't be so eager to die, James," he murmured, drifting lazily into the air. "We still need you."
James lay sprawled in the wet grass, lungs burning, legs frozen in place as the beast slithered toward him — slow, confident. A predator savoring the moment.
Move, dammit! his mind screamed. But his limbs wouldn't respond.
He forced himself up, turned, and ran. Up the slope. Away from the lake.
PSSHHHHHHHH!
A blast of water rocketed past his head, slamming into the cliff wall in front of him and sending shards of rock flying. He skidded to a stop, nearly toppling over.
He turned. The creature was already climbing the shore, gills flaring, mouth yawning open to reveal rows of jagged teeth.
James pulled a knife with shaking fingers. One. Just one shot.
And he knew it wouldn't be enough.