Tyler slumped against the rough canvas of his tent, the last embers of the sunset painting the distant mountains in hues of fiery orange and deep violet. He watched the ever-present, faintly glowing green screen hovering outside, its digital prompt stubbornly unchanged since his encounter with the demoness, Ammit. A long, weary sigh escaped his lips. He'd done it. He'd actually done it. The forced kindness, the reluctant acts of healing – they had continued, one after another, over the past few days.
His encounter with Ammit had, for better or worse, been a catalyst. He'd figured that after healing a demoness, things were bound to get more lively. He wasn't wrong. The moment Ammit had disappeared into the deepening shadows of the forest, leaving behind only the unsettling promise of return, Tyler had felt a strange, almost imperceptible shift in his internal landscape. The nagging presence of the system, once a source of pure irritation and stubborn defiance, now seemed to possess a subtle, undeniable logic. He might hate it, might resent its intrusive nature, but its commands had, ironically, given him a purpose beyond mere, brute survival.
His first act of healing, after Ammit, had been almost reflexive. He had returned to his mundane chores, trying to ground himself. As he led Bessie back to her makeshift paddock, the gentle cow had stumbled on a hidden root, letting out a pained low. Tyler's eyes instantly went to her flank, and there it was: a fresh, shallow cut, bleeding sluggishly. His mind, still reeling from the perfect, scar-free restoration he'd witnessed on Ammit, made an instinctive connection. Without consciously deciding, without even thinking to resist, he had simply extended his hand, focused on the familiar drain of Mana Points, and **healed Bessie**. The cut had vanished, leaving only smooth, brown hide. The system, predictably, had registered it. *+1 Unique Target Healed!* A small, glowing notification had appeared on the screen, infuriatingly cheerful. Tyler had merely clicked his tongue, a familiar sign of his annoyance, but he hadn't argued.
Next, it had been Grizzy. The wolf pup, growing bolder with each passing day, had been exploring the perimeter of the fenced paddock, its small paws testing the boundaries of its world. In a moment of youthful exuberance, or perhaps just clumsy curiosity, it had tripped over a thorny bush, letting out a sharp yelp of pain. Tyler had rushed over, his heart giving a sympathetic lurch. Grizzy's front **paw was clearly hurt**, a thin trickle of blood weeping from a puncture wound. Again, without a second thought, Tyler had knelt, extended his hand, and cast **Heal**. The wound on Grizzy's paw sealed instantaneously, the small pup immediately putting its full weight on it, sniffing at the spot where the pain had been, utterly bewildered. *+1 Unique Target Healed!* the system had chirped. Tyler had merely grunted, rubbing Grizzy's head, a flicker of satisfaction momentarily eclipsing his irritation.
These two initial healings, so close to home, so direct in their benefit, chipped away at his stubborn resolve. He was still Tyler, the one who hated magic and resented the system, but he was also Tyler, the survivor, the protector of his small, burgeoning sanctuary. If healing these creatures, simple as it was, could potentially lead to… *something*, then perhaps it was worth the grudging effort.
The true test, however, came with venturing out. He knew the mission required **"6 unique targets."** Bessie and Grizzy accounted for two. He needed four more. This meant leaving the relative safety of his hilltop. His explorations into the forest had previously been solely for reconnaissance and resource gathering, always with the utmost caution. Now, he had a new, strange objective: finding injured creatures.
He began venturing deeper into the **heavily dense forest**, usually at dawn or dusk, when the shadows were long and movement was harder to detect. His Parkour skill, rated so highly by the system, proved invaluable. He moved with the quiet grace of a phantom, his steps light on the leaf-strewn ground, his body effortlessly weaving through tangled undergrowth and leaping over fallen logs. He scaled trees with practiced ease, perching high in their ancient canopies to gain vantage points, observing the forest below with the keen eyes of a predator, or perhaps, a hunter.
It was during these excursions that he encountered them: the **monster-like creatures**. They weren't the majestic beasts of the kingdom's folklore, but twisted, often grotesque aberrations that seemed to belong to a darker, more primal world. He saw hulking, vaguely humanoid figures with too many limbs shambling through thickets, their guttural growls echoing ominously. He spotted slender, serpentine beings, their scales glinting with an unhealthy iridescence, slithering through the undergrowth with unsettling speed. He even caught a glimpse of a creature that seemed to be a fusion of boar and spider, its eight hairy legs skittering as it dug for roots. Tyler knew, instinctively, that these were not creatures to be trifled with. He was a survivor, not a warrior. He was **quiet and sneaky**, relying on his agility and spatial awareness to **avoid them** entirely. He became a ghost in the woods, learning to anticipate their movements, to read the subtle signs of their presence – a broken branch, an unusual smell, the sudden silence of other forest dwellers. The system, to its credit, did not prompt him to engage these monsters. It just noted his avoidance with a silent, glowing "Observation: Evasion successful."
His actual targets were the smaller, more mundane, and often more vulnerable creatures of the forest. He found his third target on his first deep venture: a **bird**, a small, vibrant blue songbird, its wing clearly broken, fluttering helplessly on the forest floor, a predator's easy meal. Tyler approached slowly, extending his hand, his touch light and gentle. He cast Heal, and the fractured bone knitted itself together instantly, the bird giving a startled chirp before testing its wing, then soaring into the canopy, a tiny flash of sapphire against the green. *+1 Unique Target Healed!* Tyler felt a faint, almost imperceptible surge of something—not happiness, but a distant echo of satisfaction.
The fourth target was a **deer**. He found it caught in a snare, a crude, forgotten trap left by some unknown hunter. The deer, a young buck, thrashed wildly, its leg raw and bleeding, its large, terrified eyes wide with panic. Tyler's heart went out to it. He quickly cut the snare with his enchanted knife, then, before the animal could bolt, he laid a calming hand on its forehead, focusing his mana. The deep gash on its leg vanished, leaving perfectly smooth fur. The deer, stunned, stared at him for a moment before limping slightly, then bounding off into the trees, disappearing into the dappled light. *+1 Unique Target Healed!* The system cheered silently.
The fifth was a small, furry woodland creature, a kind of **bush squirrel**, its tail caught under a fallen log. He had to gently pry the heavy log with a branch, then carefully extricate the whimpering squirrel. Its hind legs were mangled. A quick Heal, and the squirrel, once freed, scampered up the nearest tree, chittering indignantly before vanishing. *+1 Unique Target Healed!*
He had five. He needed one more. This last one took him another full day of searching, his patience wearing thin. He was hungry, tired, and thoroughly annoyed by the system's continued existence. Just as he was about to give up and head back to his tent, he heard a familiar, if unexpected, sound: a frantic clucking. He followed the noise, and to his surprise, found a lone, domestic-looking **chicken**, its feathers ruffled, its leg twisted at an unnatural angle. It must have escaped from some distant settlement, or perhaps been dropped by a predator. Regardless, it was clearly injured.
With a final, exasperated sigh, Tyler extended his hand. "Alright, you ridiculous clucker," he muttered. "You're my last one." He cast Heal. The chicken's leg straightened instantly, and it let out a relieved squawk. But instead of running away, it simply stared at him, tilting its head. Then, to Tyler's utter bewilderment, it began to follow him. It clucked, pecked at his boots, and generally acted like he was its new best friend. Tyler tried shooing it away, but the stubborn bird simply clucked louder and kept pace with him. He tried to outrun it, but the chicken, seemingly infused with a boundless energy, simply ran faster.
By the time he reached the edge of his clearing, the chicken was still diligently clucking along behind him, apparently having adopted him. Tyler sighed again, a sound of utter resignation. "Fine," he mumbled. "You can stay. Just don't expect me to name you, you overgrown feather duster." *+1 Unique Target Healed!* the system practically sang.
**"Mission Complete!"** The words flashed on the screen, accompanied by an even more obnoxious flurry of digital confetti, shimmering green and gold.
**— Congratulations, User! Mission Complete! Doesn't that feel just wonderful? 😉😙 —**
Tyler looked at the screen, at the winking and kissing emojis, and he felt… nothing of the sort. No warm glow, no sense of accomplishment, just a quiet, deep-seated resentment that he'd been *forced* to do this. He had healed them out of necessity, out of pity, out of a pragmatic desire to get the system off his back, but not out of joy.
He pulled up his stats, his eyes scanning the numbers. His **Exp** had indeed risen. It was now **112/150**. He needed just 38 more points to level up. A small, almost imperceptible nod of satisfaction twitched at the corner of his lips. At least the system kept its promises in that regard.
Next, he looked at his **Attribute Points (AP)**. He had accumulated **7 AP** from his initial awakening, which he had stubbornly refused to allocate. And now, the mission reward: **12 AP**. A grand total of **19 AP**. He hesitated for a moment, thinking. Strength? No, he relied on agility. Dexterity? Already high. Constitution? It was low, but the regen was slow anyway. Intelligence, Wisdom, Charisma, Luck – he didn't care about those. Mana. MP. That was the crucial resource for healing, his only active skill.
With a decisive mental command, Tyler focused on his **MP**. The initial value was **6/6**. He watched, as if observing a fascinating experiment, as the numbers on the screen changed, the AP rapidly depleting as his MP pool expanded. He allocated **all 19 of his available AP towards MP**.
His **MP** value now read: **25/25**. A significant increase. This would allow him to cast the Heal spell twelve times before needing to regenerate. That was a tangible improvement, a practical advantage in a world where every advantage counted. He still hated the system, but he appreciated the utility.
Almost immediately after his allocation, the screen refreshed, displaying a new message, a new objective.
---
**— Next Mission: Unlock Regeneration (Lv1)! —**
**— Objective: Achieve Regeneration (Lv1) in under 30 days without external assistance. —**
**— Reward: A Healing Building will be added to your home area (location of your choice within the cleared perimeter). —**
---
Tyler stared at the new mission. Regeneration. What even *was* Regeneration? And "without external assistance"? Was that a jab at his past reliance on Zach, or just a generic condition? He scoffed. And a "healing building"? That actually sounded useful. But no hints? No explanation of *how* to achieve "Regeneration"?
"Heh. No hints, you jerk," Tyler muttered, aiming his comment at the perpetually floating screen. "Whatever. Always with the vague instructions, aren't you?" He sighed again, a sound heavy with resignation. He didn't like this situation. He had no idea what the future held, no grand plan, no magical lineage to guide him. But he wasn't going to let whatever may happen take him blind-sided. He would adapt. He would survive. He always had.
He ignored the silent system once more, pushing himself to his feet. He had crops to check, a new, very persistent chicken to manage, and Bessie to prepare for the night. As the last sliver of sunlight dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in a final flourish of twilight, Tyler turned his back on the glowing screen. He went back to his crops, carefully inspecting each small, fragile sprout, checking to see how they were doing. His fingers gently brushed the nascent leaves, a quiet act of defiance against the unpredictable, magical chaos that had consumed his life. He was a farmer now, a survivor, a reluctant healer, and, for better or worse, the unwilling wielder of the "Life System." The journey had just truly begun.