Sam was jolted awake by heavy footsteps and the rustling of leaves.
His muscles screamed in protest as he pushed himself up, leaning on the tree for balance. Cold morning dew dripped from a leaf above him and ran down his neck, making him shiver.
He carefully peeked around the trunk—crack.
He stepped on a dry branch.
The entire forest fell silent.
Sam froze.
A pair of eyes stared back at him through the bushes—another horned rabbit. Larger than yesterday's. Its nose twitched rapidly as it sniffed toward the scent of meat and blood lingering in the air.
Then its gaze snapped to Sam.
A low, angry rumble bubbled from its throat.
"…Oh shit."
It charged.
Sam leapt back behind the tree, the beast darting past with frightening speed.
"Tsk…" he clicked his tongue. This one won't just run into a tree like an idiot.
His eyes darted around.
Where was the horn?
Where was his weapon?
"Fuck—did I leave it at the fire yesterday?"
He didn't have time to check.
The rabbit turned with a furious screech and launched into its second charge.
This time Sam ducked low, sliding under the creature as it soared over him. He kicked upward with every ounce of strength he had, slamming his foot into its stomach.
The rabbit crashed onto the ground, squealing.
Sam didn't hesitate.
He sprinted toward it, tackling the creature before it could fully recover. He locked his legs around its thick neck and unleashed a barrage of fists and elbows.
Crack.
Blood exploded across his hands as his knuckles split. Pain tore through his small arms, but he kept hitting, kept hammering, kept fighting like a wild animal.
The rabbit thrashed violently, slamming him onto the ground and rolling. Sam's grip finally broke, and he was thrown off, tumbling through the dirt.
He scrambled to his feet— the rabbit, blinded by its own blood, sniffed frantically for him.
Sam ran. Even though His legs screamed and the ribs ached. His entire body felt like it was tearing apart.
Slow… too slow! he roared inwardly.
Behind him, he heard the beast's powerful hops closing in.
The firepit came into sight.
And there—lying in the dirt—the horn. Just one arm's length away.
Sam dove. His fingers brushed the ground—grip.
He had it.
Still mid-air, he twisted his torso and thrust the horn forward.
THUD.
Warm flesh met cold horn.
A red spray filled the morning air.
"Aaagh!" The rabbit's momentum carried its entire weight onto the horn, driving the point straight into its chest—piercing the heart.
[+1 Strength]
The beast twitched.
Then went still.
Blood dripped from the horn as Sam collapsed backward, chest heaving, vision shaking.
[Killed 1x horned rabbit: 4 EXP]
[Requirments reached: Level up! 2 —>3]
[Requirments reached: Close combat (E) skill levels up! 1/20 –>20/20]
[Close combat (E) [Level 20/20] ––> Martial Artist (D) [Level 1/30]
[Requirments reached: pain tolerance (F) skill levels up! 6/10–>8/10]
[Requirments reached for the skill; {Hard Body (F) [Level 1/10]} ]
„Hahaha!" Sam sat up, his body heavy but still feeling a little bit better, reading through the whole bunch of new messages, he couldn't care about right now.
He took his horn and started dismantling the rabbit, and around midday hung a second piece of pelt on the brunch. And while he ate the rabbit, his eyes looked over his new status.
────────────────────────────────
STATUS – SAMUEL
────────────────────────────────
Race: Human - Slave (ownerless)
Age: 7
Condition: Malnourished, Exhausted, wounded
LEVEL: 3/5
EXP: 0/30
HP: 19 / 37 —> 60
Mana: 0 / 0
Strength: 5 —> 8
Agility: 7 —> 10
Endurance: 4 —> 10
Dexterity: 6 —> 9
Magic: 0
Willpower: 21 —> 24
──────── Skills ────────
• Pain Tolerance (F)[Level 8/10]
• herb gathering (F) [Level 4/10]
• healing water (E) [Level 1/20]
• Martial artist (D) [Level 1/30]
• Hard Body (F) [Level 1/10]
————————————————————
He clicked himself a little bit through the skills.
———Hard Body (F)———
Level 1/10
Through repeated stress, impact, and overexertion, your body begins to adapt. Muscles densify, bones strengthen, nerves resist damage. Each level slightly increases base durability and reduces incoming physical damage.
———
Sam exhaled slowly, leaning back against the tree as the last lines faded.
"So that's how it works…" he muttered, rubbing the dried blood on his arm with a tired grin. "Not the level… the body, gets stronger…"
It made sense now.
The jumps in his stats didn't come from some magical ding—they came from him pushing himself to the edge of collapse. From fighting. From pain. From surviving.
A chuckle escaped him, low and hoarse.
He swiped the translucent screens away and gnawed on another piece of roasted rabbit leg, the smoky, gamey taste filling his mouth despite how tough it was.
The pelts above him fluttered lightly in the midday breeze, drying slowly.
His small campsite almost looked… normal. Safe, even.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his dirty hand.
"Alright… status doesn't define strength," he said to himself. "Skills do and the status points. So… Effort is shown.."
He pushed himself to his feet, wobbling slightly. His body felt bruised everywhere, but beneath that—deeper—was a strange warmth. A subtle strength.
The kind that wasn't there yesterday.
It's like… hard work is visible.
Sam picked up the horn, testing the weight of it in his hand. The polished tip, stained dark with dried blood, felt reassuring.
"Now I just need to get even stronger," he whispered with a hungry glint in his eyes. "Before something bigger than a damn rabbit shows up, and…" he still felt the cold hatred for the Gold snake gang in his heart.
"And Henry Tarakan!" he spat the name like poison, the sound cutting through the quiet forest.
The moment it left his lips, memories he wished he could erase surged up—burning, vivid, hateful. Henry Tarakan. The man who bought him.
The man who slapped a premium slave emblem onto a starving child, like he was choosing a luxury pet.
The man who killed him.
Sam's jaw clenched until it hurt.
He could still see him—towering over his small, shaking body.
Ash-black hair combed back in oily waves, eyes sharp with greed, and that smile… that disgusting, satisfied smile when the crystal ball revealed Sam's magic skill.
"Oh! He was born with a magical skill!" Henry had laughed, clapping his hands like he'd just unwrapped a birthday gift.
His grin stretched too wide, too eager. Then he leaned down, breath warm and sour on Sam's ear, and whispered:
"You… you are going to get a special—no… a premium lifetime slave tattoo. And the only way…to not be in my control anymore! Hehe! Is to die!"
Sam's grip around the horn tightened until his knuckles turned white. Veins stood out on his hand. His heartbeat hammered in his skull.
That man.
That monster.
Future head of Tarakan—the abandoned fortress city, every normal citizen feared to enter.
Sam sucked a sharp breath through his teeth, anger rippling through his whole body.
"I swear…" he muttered, voice shaking not from weakness but from conviction, "I'll kill you, Henry Tarakan. And I never! I never broke a promise till now!"
The horn trembled in his hand.
Not from fear but from determination.
A promise carved deeper than any slave emblem ever could. The pure hatred of this small body.