Mors tracked the snake closely with his eyes while crouching low on the wide branch, careful not to lose his balance.
Hiss.
The snake mirrored his movements, its body coiling slightly.
Then… it lunged.
The green blur shot straight for his face.
Mors reacted on instinct. He surged forward and clamped his hand around the snake's underside, right below its head.
Hiss… hiss!
The snake thrashed violently, its body whipping through the air. Mors grimaced and quickly caught its tail with his other hand.
Now it was trapped, pinned in his grip, unable to bite him.
"Hm," Mors muttered, staring at it with faint interest. "I would've fried you if I knew how to skin you."
There was a strange sparkle in his eyes, as if he were evaluating ingredients rather than a living creature.
He didn't know whether the snake was poisonous, and he wasn't about to gamble his life on it. Acorns and water would be enough to survive a few more days.
"But there's no way you're walking away."
A poor choice of words, considering snakes lacked legs.
Without hesitation, he slammed the snake's head against the tree trunk.
Thud.
Thud.
The violent hissing mixed with the dull sound of impact echoed through the forest. Blood and venom splattered across the bark.
Mors's face remained blank.
He wasn't disgusted. He wasn't excited. He wasn't even angry.
His emotions had always worked this way. They flared up when something genuinely irritated, surprised, or saddened him, then faded just as quickly.
What remained wasn't emptiness, but his usual lazy calm, a sleepy state he always drifted back into.
After countless strikes, the snake finally stopped moving.
It wasn't dead, but it wasn't escaping either.
Mors released it and let the limp body fall to the ground below, followed by the acorns he had gathered. Then he carefully climbed down the tree, landing beside his prizes.
He watched as the snake tried to crawl away, slow and pitiful.
Mors picked up a stone from the stream's edge and brought it down again and again until the snake finally said its farewell.
"Hoo… now let's eat some nuts." He murmured, eyeing the pile of acorns before getting to work.
♢ ♢ ♢ ♢
Time slipped by like a breeze, and nearly two days vanished.
Mors lay beside the stream like an actual sloth. He did not bother searching for another food source, simply washing acorns in the water and eating the kernels inside.
His daily schedule went something like this: Ten hours of sleep from midnight. Wake up in the morning. Spend eight hours struggling to adjust to his new body. Then the forced sleep kicked in, knocking him out for another six hours.
Yes, Mors could choose when to sleep. Unfortunately, he needed sixteen hours of it every day. If he stayed awake longer than eight hours, his body would drag him into sleep whether he liked it or not.
Eighteen years on Earth fighting this disorder had at least given him a reliable biological clock.
Leaning against a tree, Mors checked the Trial timer.
[ Time Elapsed: 6 days, 23 : 58 : 10 ]
"Two more minutes. Finally," he muttered, already fed up with forest life.
It was almost midnight. Thankfully, this world followed the same system of time, months, and years as Earth.
The months, however, were named differently.
The first three months were Spring.
January – First Spring, February – Second Spring, and March – Third Spring.
The next three were Summer, followed by Autumn, and finally Winter.
The third Winter was December. It had 31 days and marked the end of a full year.
While Mors was thinking about all sorts of random things, the timer finally stopped tormenting him.
Panels flashed into existence before his eyes.
[ Challenger Mors, you have completed the first trial – Trial of Endurance. ]
[ Your body grows stronger. +1 to the Body Stat. ]
A warm heat spread through Mors's body, like he was in a luxurious spa.
"Hoo…" He closed his eyes, savoring the sensation of growing stronger. It was euphoric.
'I might get addicted to this.'
Another message appeared:
[ You have received a 'Rune of Self.' ]
A white rune, shaped like a crystal stone, materialized before Mors, floating in the air.
He grinned and plucked it from the air. A new panel appeared, displaying its purpose:
[ Rune of Self ]
[ Description: When bound to your soul, this rune displays all records of your body, stats, and soul in runic form. ]
It was the reward every Challenger received after completing their first trial.
Despite the grand wording, Mors could sum it up in two words: Status Panel. No shops, no freebies… just a clean readout of himself.
His grin widened. Maybe now he'd finally understand what was really wrong with his cursed soul.
As he was about to bind the rune—
[ You will be transported to the Safe Zone until the next trial begins. ]
"Ah…!" Before he could react, a violent pull surged from the ground, and Mors vanished from the forest.
♢ ♢ ♢ ♢
◇ Floor 0 Safe Zone ◇
In a vast white circular hall, towering pillars stretched upward, bathed in a calm, ambient light that seemed to come from nowhere.
Suddenly, a 16 year old boy materialized at its center, as if teleported.
Mors landed squarely on his bum, groaning. His head prickled like needles, but thankfully, it wasn't as painful as the memory-transfer episode.
He finally stood and looked around. The hall felt like a holy church, with walls, floors, and pillars all white and no visible exit.
Warmth suddenly washed over him.
"Ah~!... Fucking hell." Mors moaned, the euphoric sensation catching him off guard.
All his hunger, thirst, and wounds from the first trial vanished like the wind. He was back to tip-top condition.
He folded his black training top slightly, eyes lingering on the scars on his abdomen. His mood sank as memories of Little Mors being tortured for a crime he never committed resurfaced.
'Looks like only the wounds and defects from the first trial are gone.'
Mors shrugged off the negativity and glanced at the rune in his hand.
"Let's get this over with."
He closed his eyes, focused on the rune, and willed it to bind to his soul.
Soon, the rune shone brightly, breaking into motes of light that sank into his body. Instantly, he felt a deep connection with it.
'Hopefully, it'll have some answers.'
He muttered prayers to every god he could remember, willing the rune to reveal its secrets.
A black runic panel with silver letters materialized before his eyes, visible only to him.