Ethan ran through the vast, open grasslands, his breath steady, his golden eyes sharp.
Behind him, seventeen Horned Skervel gave chase, their small, powerful bodies bounding across the terrain with relentless bloodlust.
Their clawed feet kicked up dirt, and their sharp horns gleamed under the dim light.
The beasts were fast—too fast for him to simply outrun.
Each time one lunged at him, he sidestepped just in time, feeling the rush of air as its horn barely missed him.
He kept moving, his heart pounding, his mind focused.
Then, he saw it—a patch of disturbed land ahead.
Perfect.
With a final push, he leapt over it.
The Skervel, blinded by their bloodlust, followed without hesitation—
Only to plummet into the hidden pit below.
The sound of shrieks and squelching filled the air as they were impaled by the iron spikes at the bottom.
One Skervel, however, managed to cling to the edge, its beady eyes locking onto Ethan's—
Begging for mercy.
Ethan stared at it, expression cold and unyielding.
"Sorry," he murmured, lifting his dagger. "I'm all out of mercy."
With a swift motion, he plunged the blade into its skull, ending its life instantly.
System Notifications
A familiar ding echoed in his mind.
[You have obtained 0.001 ability fragments.] (17 times)
[You have obtained 50 points.] (17 times)
He exhaled, feeling the satisfaction of progress.
It had been over a month since he entered Zone 1 of the Riftborn Expanse, and the changes were visible.
Ethan was no longer the helpless wanderer he had once been.
Now he was fully equipped.
His armor was a full-body black suit, plain yet durable, crafted from a special alloy that absorbed impact, protecting him from glancing blows. (Cost: 500 Points)
Over it, he wore a camouflage cloak—a gray-green fabric designed to blend with his surroundings, equipped with a presence-reducing function to help him stalk his prey. (Cost: 550 Points)
His dagger was no longer the cheap, standard blade he had started with.
His new one was razor-sharp, dark steel, with a reinforced hilt for better grip and a slight curve to enhance cutting power. (Cost: 350 Points)
But the most valuable item in his possession was the golden ring on his finger.
A storage ring—with unlimited space.
A true treasure, worth 1,000,000 points. But thanks to his newbie coupon, he had gotten it for a fraction of the price.
Without it, he wasn't sure how he'd survive here. It was where he stored:
Food
Potions
Traps
Spare weapons
Everything he needed to keep hunting.
Opening his system interface, he checked his stats:
Ability Fragments:0.32
He needed 680 more kills to unlock his first ability—
And leave this place.
The isolation was beginning to wear on him.
He hadn't spoken to another soul in a month.
That thought ate away at him, but he pushed it aside.
If he wanted to escape, he had to increase his efforts.
He clenched his dagger, eyes burning with determination.
"There's nothing you can't achieve with maximum effort."
With that, he set off to continue his hunt.
****
Ethan lay hidden among the tall grass, his black cloak blending into the terrain.
He raised his binoculars, focusing on the pack of seven Duskfang Lupir feasting on the Horned Skervel carcasses they had hunted.
The Lupir were wolf-like predators, each standing at least five feet tall at the shoulder.
Their fur was dark gray, almost black, with streaks of deep crimson running along their spines.
Their claws were curved and razor-sharp, their fangs glistened with fresh blood, and most striking of all—
Their eyes glowed a piercing red, burning like embers in the dim light.
Ethan had been avoiding them for a long time.
Because in the Riftborn Expanse, there was a clear food chain hierarchy:
Horned Skervel – Lowest rank, prey to almost everything.
Duskfang Lupir – Cunning pack hunters with heightened senses.
Graven Mawler – Larger, monstrous creatures that lurked in the shadows.
Fellstrider Rykir – Apex speed hunters, that attack from the sky.
Hollow Goremite – The undisputed king of Zone 1, an unstoppable juggernaut of raw destruction.
Previously, Ethan had been at the bottom—just another weakling below even the Skervel.
But after relentlessly hunting them, earning points and fragments, and purchasing better gear, he had moved up the chain.
And now, it was time to take the Lupir's place in the food chain.
If he had a choice, he wouldn't have bothered.
He had been fine where he was, hunting the Horned Skervel at his own pace. But the system had different plans.
After nearly driving the Skervel to extinction, his rewards stopped coming.
No points. No fragments.
The system never told him that overhunting a species would cut off his progress.
So for the past week, he had been tracking the Lupir, trying to learn their habits and traits.
And he had died for it.
The Lupir's heightened senses made it nearly impossible to observe them unnoticed.
Every time he got too close, they would detect his presence, hunt him down, and tear him apart.
But death was a good teacher.
He had learned.
To increase the stalking distance—farther than his instincts told him.
He also bought a scent-erasing potion from the store to erase his presence, even though it cost 3,000 points per bottle.
And with his point supply running low, he had to ration the potion carefully.
But it worked.
For the first time, he could follow the Lupir unnoticed.
When the Lupir finished their feast, they began moving back to their den—
And this was the most dangerous part.
During the journey back, their instincts heightened, their senses sharpened, and they became hyper-alert.
It was a way to ensure no predators followed them home.
But Ethan had prepared.
He moved slower, kept farther away, and minimized his presence to an almost undetectable level.
Because death had taught him well.
And he had finally accomplished his goal after seven days.
Through his binoculars, he saw it—the Lupir's den.
A dark cavern, hidden beneath a rocky outcrop, surrounded by thorny vegetation.
A smirk crept onto Ethan's face.
"Bingo."
But before he could react—
A shadow moved behind him.
A single Lupir, completely silent, had crept up on him.
A flash of red eyes. A blur of fangs.
Pain. Darkness. Death.
Ethan's vision snapped back to light, and he found himself standing at the Rebirth Altar.
He was alive again.
And he was smiling.
He had found their den.
Now, it was time for revenge.
****
Ethan crouched outside the Lupir's den, his cloak blending into the vegetation. The night was eerily silent, save for the occasional growl or snarl from inside the cavern.
He waited, motionless, as the pack prepared for their hunt.
One by one, the seven adult Duskfang Lupir emerged, their crimson eyes burning like embers in the dim moonlight.
Their massive, muscular forms moved with deadly grace as they disappeared into the darkness, leaving only the faint scent of blood in their wake.
Ethan exhaled slowly. Now was his chance.
Stepping into the cavernous den, the first thing Ethan noticed was the stench—a mixture of blood, damp fur, and raw meat.
The walls were lined with deep claw marks, and bones—some animal, some human( his dead bodies)—were scattered across the uneven floor.
Further in, Ethan spotted a large pit, dug into the ground and lined with soft animal pelts.
This was the nesting area, where the Lupir cubs were kept safe while the adults hunted.
But what caught Ethan's attention was what was happening inside the nest.