The three of them walked in silence until they reached a small cabin where faint firelight flickered through the cracks.
"Dad! You're back!"
A thin boy, barely twelve or thirteen, burst out of the door and ran straight into Grant Carter's arms. This was Leo's younger brother—Nate Carter.
Nate looked up with bright, eager eyes and scanned the area around them. His smile faltered.
"…Dad, you didn't bring back any food this time, did you?"
As soon as he spoke, his stomach growled in protest.
Grant flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Something happened out there. Next time, I promise."
"But you said that last time too…"
The boy blinked, confused and innocent.
Helen quickly pulled him back and scolded him. "Can't you see your father's injured? Careful, don't bump his arm!"
She didn't say the rest: this time, your dad almost didn't make it back.
"Huh?" Nate followed her gaze and caught sight of the bloody wounds on Grant's arm. He immediately stepped back, eyes wide. "I-I'm sorry, Dad…"
"This isn't your fault," Grant said gently, ruffling his son's hair. Then he turned to Helen. "Is there any rice left? Maybe we can cook some thin porridge tonight. If we've got anything to trade, I'll try going to Songhold tomorrow for supplies."
"We're out," Helen replied, her voice soft. "I already traded the wedding ring you gave me. There's nothing left."
She turned away, walked into the cabin, and scooped the last half-scoop of rice from the bottom of the barrel.
At most, they had enough for another week. After that—nothing.
"Leo," Grant called out. "You feeling any better?"
"I'm fine now, Dad," Leo replied, mimicking how the body's original owner might have spoken.
From what he remembered, Leo hadn't been particularly close to his father—always a bit distant, a little afraid. That worked in his favor now.
Grant looked like he wanted to say something, but in the end, he simply nodded. "Good."
Dinner was rice porridge—mostly hot water, barely more than a whisper of real grains.
The four of them ate in silence, scraping their bowls clean. Grant, the man of the house, took a second helping—more water than anything.
After that, they retired for the night.
Leo and Nate shared the western room. Through the thin wooden walls, he could clearly hear his parents talking—not because he was eavesdropping, but because the house was simply too flimsy to block any sound.
"Grant… I was so scared today," Helen whispered through quiet sobs. "I thought you'd be like the others… that you wouldn't come back."
"I'm fine," Grant replied, voice steady and firm. "You don't need to worry."
"But what about next time?"
Silence fell.
Leo let out a breath.
Things were already hard enough—scraping by with barely enough food. But out there, beyond the safety of the walls, others had it even worse. People without shelter, without protection. Even if you wanted to get to the cities, it wasn't just about whether they'd let you in. Getting there alive was the real problem.
If you wanted to survive in this world, you needed strength. Real strength.
He closed his eyes. In his mind, a glowing status panel flickered into view—something like a character screen from a video game, only more vivid… more real.
----------------------
Status Panel:
Rank: None
Level: 1 (0/1)
Constitution: 8 (Average adult male: 10)
Strength: 7
Agility: 7
Willpower: 5
Skills: None
Stat Points: 1 (+1 every 24 hours)
----------------------
There it was—that big, bold plus sign next to his level. It hadn't been there before. It had only appeared an hour ago. That meant… the system had only just fully activated.
He'd thought it was a hallucination at first. But after repeated confirmation, he was sure—it was real.
And that plus sign… it had to mean he could spend a point to level up.
Leo took a deep breath and willed it—tapping the plus symbol in his mind.
At once, a hot surge of energy burst from his core, flooding every inch of his body.
Crack. Crack.
Tiny popping sounds echoed from his bones and joints. He shuddered, a strange relief spreading through his limbs.
"Is this… body enhancement?"
He could feel it—strength welling up inside him, a clear improvement.
A few seconds later, the heat faded. His clothes were soaked with sweat, and his chest rose and fell with rapid breaths.
He clenched his fists. No doubt about it. His body was stronger than before.
"Status," he murmured.
----------------------
Status Panel:
Rank: None
Level: 2 (0/2)
Constitution: 8
Strength: 7
Agility: 7
Willpower: 5
Skills: None
Stat Points: 0 (+1 every 24 hours)
----------------------
His eyes lit up.
All attributes had improved slightly—about 10% overall. Not much, but it was enough to push him close to the average adult male.
No wonder it felt so different.
Hope stirred inside him. Maybe he had a chance.
…But his stat point was gone. He couldn't level again today. The "+" symbol had vanished, and the required points had doubled—from 1 to 2.
"At this rate, I'll need two points for the next level," he muttered. "One point a day means… I'll have to wait."
Unless he found a way to increase stat point generation, leveling would remain painfully slow. In a world where food was scarce and life uncertain, every day counted.
His gaze dropped to the skills section—still empty.
So the system wanted him to learn something?
He racked his brain. As far as he knew, no one in the fortress actually practiced martial arts. He himself vaguely remembered a few Tai Chi forms from school… but those were half-assed, forgotten long ago.
And besides, fighting with fists in this world? Without medicine or supplies, even a minor injury could be fatal. No way.
If he had to fight… ranged weapons were the smart choice.
"Archery. That's it," he whispered.
If he couldn't find a real bow, he'd build one—wood, sinew, maybe beast tendon for the string. It wouldn't be perfect, but it would work.
Archery wasn't some ancient secret technique. But it was practical. Learn to shoot, and he could protect himself. Maybe even join the hunting parties one day.
Depending on others forever wasn't an option.
Not here. Not in this brutal world.
With that final thought, Leo drifted off to sleep—only to be jolted awake the next morning by a scream outside the cabin.