《The Modern Wanderer》


 Chapter 1: Strange Streets

    Joey woke up, blinking as his vision adjusted to the light. A sharp sense of confusion struck him as he tried to make sense of his surroundings.


    "Where the hell am I?" he mumbled, sitting up slowly.


    This wasn¡¯t his bedroom. The comforting familiarity of his space, the video game posters on the walls, the PC glowing softly in the corner, the bookshelves packed with sixteen years of school and university books, everything was gone. Instead, he found himself sitting in an alley. Surrounding him were towering walls of brick and concrete, weathered and chipped, as if they¡¯d stood there for centuries.


    "What the hell?" he muttered again, his voice echoing slightly off the walls.


    Joey tilted his head back to look up. Above him stretched a brilliantly blue sky, serene and utterly beautiful. For a fleeting moment, the sight almost calmed him, until a small piece of crumbling wall dislodged and landed in his eye.


    "Ah, goddammit!" he cursed, rubbing his face in frustration. "What kind of over the top dream is this? Seriously, this is overkill!"


    He grumbled, trying to process the bizarre situation. This couldn¡¯t be real, could it? Was he still drunk from last night? Or had he somehow downed some mushrooms or something without realizing it? None of this made sense.


    Then, in the midst of his agitation, Joey noticed something he hadn¡¯t registered before: the distant hum of life. The alley opened onto a bustling street, and the sound of voices echoed through the narrow space. Curious and apprehensive, he stepped closer. As he peered out, he froze.


    The streets were full¡ªfull of people, dressed in clothes that seemed ancient but somehow pristine. Tunics, sandals, cloaks. It was chaos, but an organized kind of chaos, with merchants shouting, children running, and strangers haggling over goods. Joey¡¯s heart pounded in his chest.


    "What the hell is this?" he whispered.


    But something else felt wrong. The voices, he couldn¡¯t understand them. The words were foreign, rapid, and completely incomprehensible. He strained to catch a single recognizable syllable, but it was no use. His stomach sank as the weight of confusion hit him.


    "Wait a second," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "Why can¡¯t I understand them? Where the hell am I?"


    Confused and agitated, Joey pushed himself up from the dusty ground. He patted his clothes, brushing off whatever dirt, soot, or debris had rained down on him. His mind raced, trying to make sense of his surroundings. At the far end of the alley, the once-muffled buzz of activity had become unmistakable energetic hum of voices and movement.


    From his vantage point, he could now see the edges of a few small market stalls peeking into view. The wooden structures, stacked with items of some kind, hinted at a busy marketplace. However, he was still too deep in the alley to make out exactly what was being sold.


    ¡°What the hell is going on here?¡± he muttered under his breath. His heartbeat quickened as he decided to move closer.


    Joey took a few cautious steps toward the end of the alley. A soft haze seemed to distort his vision, as if a bloom effect were cast over everything in the distance. The glaring sunlight made it worse, creating a shimmering veil that obscured the details ahead. Instinctively, Joey raised his hand to his forehead, shielding his eyes from the glare. Squinting, he strained to make sense of the scene before him.


    "Come on, come on," he murmured, willing his eyes to adjust faster.


    As he moved closer, the hum of voices grew louder, more distinct, though still incomprehensible. The sights and sounds of life pulled him forward, curiosity battling the gnawing sense of dread in his chest. For now, all he could do was keep walking, one cautious step at a time, and hope he was dreaming, or at least find an explanation waiting for him at the end of this alley.


    Still focused on the blinding light at the end of the alley, Joey walked forward, his steps hesitant and uneven. His ears were buzzing with the sounds coming from beyond the passage. loud, lively, chaotic. But they felt distant, almost muffled, as if his mind hadn¡¯t fully registered them yet.


    He took another step, and suddenly, his foot caught on something solid. He stumbled, barely catching himself before falling face-first onto the ground.


    ¡°Whoa, what the hell?¡± he exclaimed, looking down.


    There, right in his path, was a large, discarded clay pot, its edge cracked and broken, with scraps of fabric and something sticky spilling out of it.


    "Man, who the hell just leaves crap like this lying around? I almost ate dirt!" he grumbled, glaring at the offending object.


    Crouching down, Joey examined the mess. The broken pot and its contents didn¡¯t look anything like the garbage he was used to seeing in the city streets back home. No takeout bags, no plastic bottles, not even an old can of beer... just a jumble of rough pottery shards and something vaguely organic.


    ¡°What kind of trash even is this? My brain is seriously playing tricks on me,¡± he muttered, shaking his head. He stood back up and brushed off his hands.


    Determined to get to the end of the alley, Joey pressed on. With each step, the light grew brighter, and so did the noise. Finally, he reached the edge of the passage and froze, his breath catching in his throat.


    ¡°Holy shit,¡± he whispered.


    Before him stretched a massive marketplace, alive with energy and chaos. Dozens of wooden stalls formed uneven rows, each piled high with goods. Fresh fish glistening on makeshift ice, baskets of colorful fruits and vegetables, neatly stacked amphorae filled with oil or wine, and even racks of polished swords and bronze helmets.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    The crowd was overwhelming. Men and women jostled each other as they navigated through the throng, their voices blending into a cacophony of noise. Merchants stood behind their stalls, shouting in loud, unfamiliar syllables, advertising their wares to anyone who would listen. Joey couldn¡¯t understand a single word.


    The people themselves were unlike anything he¡¯d seen. Their clothing was strange, men wore tunics tied at the waist with simple cords, some in earthy tones of beige and brown, while others sported vibrant reds and purples. Women in flowing stolas walked gracefully, their sandals slapping against the dusty ground. Their shoes, simple and leather-bound, looked functional but completely alien to Joey. The colors and fabrics gave the whole scene an otherworldly feel.


    Joey just stood there, slack-jawed. He couldn¡¯t move, couldn¡¯t speak. His brain struggled to process what he was seeing. He felt like he¡¯d stepped onto the set of a historical Film, or more terrifyingly into another world entirely.


    ¡°I don''t see any Crew Workers so this couldn''t be a film set or something...Where the fuck am I?¡± he murmured under his breath.


    As Joey stood frozen, a sharp jab on his shoulder startled him. He whipped around to see a man standing beside him. A middle-aged figure, his skin weathered by the sun and his clothes simple but well-kept. The man wore a light tunic tied with a belt and a pair of worn leather sandals. His head was covered with a straw hat to shield himself from the sun, and his sharp eyes studied Joey with suspicion.


    The man gestured toward a nearby stall, clearly annoyed. Joey realized he was standing so close to it that he might have seemed like a customer.


    "Esne hic stas? Visne aliquid emere annon?"


    ("Are you standing here? Do you want to buy something or not?")


    The man barked, his tone impatient.


    Joey flinched, his heart racing. He didn¡¯t know what to say, or even how to say it.


    Joey stood there, completely frozen, his mind racing. For a brief moment, a flicker of recognition crossed his thoughts, like catching the tail end of a fading memory. The words the man had spoken just now, something about them felt oddly familiar. The sounds, the rhythm of the language... it gnawed at him, like hearing a melody you¡¯re sure you¡¯ve heard before but can¡¯t quite place.


    But the feeling wasn¡¯t enough. He stood there like a deer caught in headlights, unable to respond. His silence only irritated the merchant further.


    "Quid nunc? Salve!?"


    ("What now? Hello!?")


    the man snapped, his tone sharp.


    Before Joey could even attempt to muster a reply, another man emerged from the crowd, stepping toward the stall with purposeful strides. The stranger¡¯s presence immediately drew the merchant¡¯s attention. Joey felt the sudden shift, like he had ceased to exist entirely.


    The newcomer was clearly a local. He looked to be a man of middle age, with Sun-kissed skin and a short but neatly trimmed beard. His eyes were sharp, and his slightly crooked nose hinted at a life of labor or perhaps an old injury. His build was solid but not overly muscular, likely someone who worked with his hands but not in hard manual labor. He wore a clean, simple tunic dyed in a muted earthy tone, tied at the waist with a cord. Over his shoulder, he carried a small leather satchel, and his sandals, while practical, looked well-made.


    The merchant immediately shifted his focus, smiling in a way that was equal parts welcoming and opportunistic. The two men began speaking in the same unfamiliar language Joey had heard earlier, their conversation quick and filled with the natural rhythm of barter and negotiation.


    Joey stood silently, no longer the target of the merchant¡¯s ire. The relief was immediate. For a moment, the whole ordeal felt like a bad dream that had just evaporated. He took a step back, letting the two men talk uninterrupted. But as he looked at the new customer, something caught his eye. Something about the man¡¯s appearance that suddenly stood out to him.


    It was the clothes.


    ¡°The clothes,¡± Joey muttered to himself, his brow furrowing.


    The tunic, the sandals, the simple corded belt, it all seemed so familiar. Joey¡¯s mind flipped through memories like the pages of a history textbook. That straightforward yet iconic style of dress... it was unmistakable.


    ¡°These clothes...they look just like how I remember Romans or other ancient civilizations being depicted,¡± Joey thought.


    A sense of unease settled over him. The garments were something so basic yet so profoundly tied to history that they were instantly recognizable. Even thousands of years later, children in classrooms around the world could identify them. For Joey, they weren¡¯t just unfamiliar, they were alien to everything modern. And the more he thought about it, the more the realization began to creep in.


    ¡°These clothes don¡¯t belong in the modern world,¡± he murmured, his voice barely audible.


    The simple, enduring design had been immortalized through centuries of art, storytelling, and education. Joey knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that what he was seeing didn¡¯t match any corner of the contemporary world. There was no mistake. He was staring at something straight out of the past.


    Joey stood there, frozen and shocked. Completely shocked. A wave of panic overtook him, though he kept it bottled up inside. As the two men beside him became increasingly engrossed in a business-like negotiation over some goods Joey¡¯s mind spiraled out of control.


    He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, each beat growing louder in his ears. No, not just louder, it felt heavier, as if his heart were trying to break free of his ribcage. His vision began to narrow, the edges of his peripheral vision fading into a darkened blur, forming a tunnel-like focus on nothing in particular. Panic morphed into something primal, a terrible, clawing sense of fear.


    It was a fear so visceral that it consumed him. Death. That¡¯s what it felt like, like he was moments away from dying. Joey¡¯s breath came in short, ragged gasps. He had to get away.


    Without thinking, without even planning where to go, Joey turned and ran. His feet pounded against the uneven stone of the marketplace floor as he bolted blindly into the crowd. He didn¡¯t care where he was going, he just needed to get away. Away from the noise, the smells, the strange sights. Every passing second heightened his sensory overload. Everything was too loud, too sharp, too alien. The sounds of voices and merchants shouting blurred into an overwhelming cacophony, pressing in on him from all sides.


    The two men at the stall, now deep in a debate over the price of spices, paused for a moment to watch Joey''s abrupt departure.


    ¡°What happened to him?¡± the customer asked, raising an eyebrow.


    The merchant shrugged, leaning on his stall.


    "I don¡¯t know. He was just standing there, saying nothing. But I thought he was strange from the start, especially because of the clothes he¡¯s wearing."


    The potential buyer nodded.


    "True, his clothes look like those of a foreigner. Perhaps he¡¯s a traveler, don¡¯t you think?"


    The merchant scratched his chin.


    "Perhaps. Lately, we¡¯ve been seeing more and more foreigners at the market. Many come to trade."


    With a collective shrug, the two men returned their focus to their business. In a city as large and bustling as this, encountering strange individuals wasn¡¯t uncommon. By the next moment, Joey had already faded from their thoughts, becoming just another fleeting anomaly in a sea of unusual faces.


    Meanwhile, Joey¡¯s descent into a mental spiral only worsened. He had no idea how long he had been running. It felt like an hour, maybe more. His legs burned, his lungs ached, but he didn¡¯t stop until he reached the edge of the city. He barely noticed when the paved roads turned to dirt paths, and then to the outskirts of a forest. He didn¡¯t care. He just kept moving, his mind racing with a single, desperate thought: ¡°I need to go home, somewhere safe.¡±


    The woods offered no comfort. Joey stumbled blindly through the underbrush, his thoughts clouded by fear and exhaustion. Suddenly, his foot caught on something like a thick root. He tried to steady himself, but the uneven ground gave way beneath him. His body pitched forward, tumbling down a steep, rocky incline.


    His world turned into a chaotic blur of motion. Trees and sky spun around him as he fell, and the last thing Joey saw was the ground rushing up to meet him before everything went black.

 Chapter 2 Dream

    Joey¡¯s unconscious body lay still at the bottom of the hill, half-buried in a patch of leaves and dirt. The world around him was silent, save for the distant rustle of trees swaying in the breeze. Yet within his mind, chaos reigned.


    A dream... no, more like a memory, gripped him.


    He was standing in nothingness. No walls, no sky, no ground. Just endless, infinite black. He wasn¡¯t alone. There was something or someone there with him. A figure stood in the distance, blurry and indistinct, as though it were made of smoke. Joey squinted, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn¡¯t make out any features.


    The figure spoke. At first, the words were incomprehensible, like garbled static in his ears. But then they shifted, resolving into a steady rhythm. The voice spoke again, slowly this time, repeating the same phrase.


    "Quis es? Quo vadis?"


    ("Who are you? Where are you going?")


    Joey¡¯s mouth opened, but no sound came out. The words echoed again, louder this time. They were strange, foreign, yet familiar enough to stir something deep within him.


    "Quis es? Quo vadis?"


    Joey¡¯s lips moved of their own accord, forming the shapes of the words. To his shock, his voice came out clear and steady, as though he had always known how to say them.


    "Quis¡­ es? Quo¡­ vadis?"


    The figure stepped closer, though it remained shrouded. Its voice grew firmer, faster, commanding. Words Joey didn¡¯t understand spilled forth, flooding his mind. At first, it was overwhelming. Like a tidal wave of sounds and syllables but then something clicked. Piece by piece, the language began to make sense. He didn¡¯t just hear the words; he felt their meanings, their weight, as if they were being etched into his very soul.


    The figure¡¯s voice softened.


    "Intellige¡­ Dic¡­"


    ("Understand¡­ Speak¡­")


    And then Joey woke up.


    The first thing he noticed was the pain. His body ached all over, and his head throbbed as though someone had hit him with a brick. He groaned, opening his eyes to see the canopy of trees above him, their leaves rustling in the wind. The second thing he noticed was the strange clarity in his mind. It was as if a piece of a puzzle had snapped into place, though he didn¡¯t know why or how.


    Joey sat up slowly, wincing as he felt a sharp pain in his side. He glanced around, taking in his surroundings. He was at the bottom of a forested hill, dirt and leaves clinging to his clothes. A distant memory of running, falling, and¡­ the dream. The words from the dream echoed in his head.


    "Quis es¡­ Quo vadis¡­"


    The phrase felt so natural now. Without thinking, he muttered it aloud, and to his astonishment, the words rolled off his tongue as if he had spoken them a hundred times before.


    ¡°What the hell¡­?¡± Joey whispered, his voice trembling. He tried saying something else in the strange language, testing it, and the words came out effortlessly.


    His heart raced. This wasn¡¯t normal. Nothing about this was normal.


    But there was no time to dwell on it. Suddenly there was a sound in the distance. The rustling of leaves, the faint crunch of footsteps, snapped Joey out of his thoughts. Someone, or something, was approaching.


    The rustling of leaves grew louder, and Joey could see a few branches and bushes shifting unnaturally in the distance.


    ¡°There¡¯s definitely something out there,¡± he muttered to himself, his voice trembling. Joey tried to push himself up, but a sharp, stabbing pain coursed through his body. He fell back with a groan, his hands instinctively inspecting his injuries.


    His arms looked fine. His upper body seemed intact too. But when his eyes scanned down to his legs, he noticed something different. There was a medium-sized wound on his right leg, bleeding sluggishly, staining the fabric of his pants. It wasn¡¯t life-threatening, but compared to the rest of his body, his legs were in far worse shape. He could still move them, though,thank God. At least he wouldn¡¯t have to deal with paralysis in this strange, unknown world.


    The sound of rustling leaves grew louder. Whatever was out there, it was close. Joey¡¯s heart pounded as he braced himself for what might come.


    Suddenly, the bushes directly in front of him parted. A man emerged, stepping through the underbrush with the quiet confidence of someone who knew this terrain well. He looked to be in his late twenties, his build strong and powerful.


    The man had broad shoulders and muscular arms, his physique clearly shaped by years of physical labor or hunting. His skin was sun-kissed and rough, as though it had weathered countless days under the open sky. A short, trimmed beard framed his square jawline, and his dark eyes gleamed with a mix of caution and curiosity.


    He wore a sleeveless tunic made of coarse, earthy fabric, belted at the waist with a strip of leather. A small, sheathed dagger hung from his belt, and in his right hand, he carried a short spear with a sharpened stone tip. On his feet were sturdy leather sandals, strapped tightly around his calves. Over one shoulder, he carried a hunting pouch made from animal hide, its contents hidden except for a few tufts of fur and scraps of leather. A quiver of crude, hand-made arrows was strapped to his back, with a small bow slung diagonally across his torso.


    The man stopped a few paces from Joey, his sharp gaze taking in the injured stranger before him. His grip on the spear tightened slightly, though he made no immediate move to attack. For a moment, there was only silence, the tension in the air palpable.


    The man, who looked every bit the hunter, locked eyes with Joey. For a moment, the forest was filled only with the soft rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of birds. Then, after the tense silence, the man spoke.


    ¡°Who are you, and what happened?¡±


    Joey stared at him, utterly bewildered. His mind raced. Not just because, minutes after waking up in the dirt, he was suddenly face-to-face with a stranger but because he could understand him. He could understand the words. Unlike the chaotic babble of the merchant earlier, this man¡¯s speech was clear. Comprehensible.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    ¡°Hello? Do you understand me?¡± the man repeated, his voice firm yet edged with curiosity.


    Snapped back to reality, Joey blinked and looked up at him. He hesitated. Just because he could understand the words didn¡¯t mean he could speak the same language fluently, did it? What if he fumbled?


    ¡°H-He¡­ Hello,¡± Joey stammered.


    As soon as the word left his lips, he froze. That wasn¡¯t English. It was Latin, or whatever language this was supposed to be. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut.


    The hunter tilted his head slightly, his expression a mix of confusion and mild amusement. He thought to himself,


    "Hello? That¡¯s it? Is this guy dazed, or did he hit his head harder than I thought?"


    Another brief but uncomfortable silence fell between them.


    The man finally shifted his stance, lowering his spear slightly and relaxing his posture. He seemed to decide Joey wasn¡¯t a threat.


    ¡°All right,¡± the man said, his tone softening, ¡°I don¡¯t think you have any bad intentions. And if you do, you¡¯re not in much of a position to act on them, judging by the state of your leg.¡±


    He gestured toward Joey¡¯s injured leg with the tip of his spear. Blood was still seeping from the wound, staining the ground beneath it.


    ¡°That looks bad,¡± the man continued. ¡°What you¡¯re wearing looks¡­ strange. But it¡¯s so torn up, you probably don¡¯t need it anymore. Take it off, I¡¯ll use it to bandage your leg. After that, you¡¯ll tell me who you are and what you¡¯re doing in this forest.¡±


    Joey nodded hesitantly. He reached down and peeled off his shredded T-shirt, wincing as the motion sent a sharp pain through his body. His shorts weren¡¯t in much better condition either. They looked like they¡¯d been through an explosion.


    ¡°This might hurt a bit,¡± the man warned.


    The hunter tore the least-damaged part of Joey¡¯s shirt and flipped it inside-out, revealing the cleaner inner side. He wrapped the fabric tightly around the wound, making sure to cover it completely, and then without warning yanked it tight and tied a thick knot to secure it.


    The sudden, intense pain ripped through Joey like fire.


    ¡°AHHHHHH!¡± Joey screamed, his voice echoing through the trees. The pain caught him completely off guard. In fairness, he still wasn¡¯t entirely in his right mind, whether from the fall, the injury or simply not processing the insane events unfolding around him.


    ¡°Goddammit, that hurts!¡± Joey shouted, his voice strained. He wasn¡¯t addressing anyone in particular, his eyes were fixed on the sky above the trees, staring at the vast expanse of blue above.


    ¡°When will it end?¡± was his last coherent thought before the pain, exhaustion, and sheer mental overload became too much. His vision blurred, his head fell back, and once again, Joey slipped into unconsciousness.


    Joey¡¯s mind stirred, pulling him back from the darkness of unconsciousness. But instead of waking up in the forest where he had collapsed, he found himself in that strange place again. He stood, or floated, in a space with no walls, no ground, no sky. It wasn¡¯t empty exactly; a faint shimmer of mist or light surrounded him, shifting and swirling without form.


    And then, there it was again... the figure.


    Still blurry, still indistinct. Like smoke trying to take the shape of a person but never fully forming. Its voice cut through the silence.


    ¡°There you are again. Can you understand me now?¡±


    Joey¡¯s heart skipped a beat. He felt like his brain was fraying at the edges. Where was he? Was he even alive? Was he dreaming? Or was he... something else entirely? He couldn¡¯t trust his senses anymore.


    ¡°Y-yes, I can understand you,¡± Joey stammered, his voice trembling.


    The figure tilted its head slightly, as though amused.


    ¡°Ah, the gentleman can speak now. What a surprise,¡± it said, its tone dripping with sarcasm.


    Joey squinted, trying to make out the figure¡¯s details, but it was impossible. The figure remained shrouded, its edges constantly shifting, almost vibrating. It was like looking through a fogged-up window that refused to clear. Whatever it was, it clearly didn¡¯t want to be fully seen, or perhaps Joey¡¯s mind simply couldn¡¯t comprehend its true form.


    ¡°Where am I?¡± Joey asked, his voice cracking. ¡°And who¡­ who are you?¡±


    The figure¡¯s tone grew sharper, almost playful.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I should be asking you. What in the world are you doing here in this¡­ well, let¡¯s call it the Void, for lack of a better term.¡±


    Joey blinked, his mind spinning.


    ¡°The Void?¡± he repeated. ¡°What does that even mean? Am I dead? What¡¯s going on?¡±


    The figure laughed softly, a sound that echoed unnaturally in the space around him.


    ¡°You¡¯re not dead. At least, not yet. But you are¡­ misplaced. Out of sync. You shouldn¡¯t be here, Joey.¡±


    Joey¡¯s stomach churned at the mention of his name. How did this thing know who he was?


    Joey stood in the Void, an endless, undefined expanse with no walls, no floor, no sky. It was as if he floated, yet somehow he felt anchored to a single spot. In front of him appeared the figure again, hazy and indistinct, as if made of swirling smoke and light. Every time he tried to focus on it, the details blurred, like a face glimpsed through frosted glass.


    The figure spoke, its voice echoing unnaturally in the empty space:


    ¡°Do you even know who you are?¡±


    Joey blinked, stunned. The question hit him harder than he expected. What kind of question was that? Of course, he knew who he was¡­ didn¡¯t he? His mind reeled for a moment, grasping at pieces of himself, his identity, his life.


    "I¡¯m 20 years old," he thought. "I live in New Zealand. I¡¯m in my fourth semester studying business administration. I graduated high school during COVID and started university right after. I love fitness, video games like Total War and strategy games. Those games¡­ they got me through tough times and my childhood. Maybe that¡¯s why I recognized those clothes and that language earlier¡ªthey¡¯ve always been in those games to make things feel authentic."


    Joey¡¯s mind wandered further. His parents worked hard, always traveling for business. Since he was 15, they¡¯d agreed together, that it was okay for them to focus on their careers again. They still cared for him deeply, even if they weren¡¯t around much. And Joey was fine with it. They had a good relationship, and he respected their choices. He was an only child with little connection to extended family, but that didn¡¯t bother him. He enjoyed solitude.


    He thought of the hobbies he dabbled in: playing guitar and piano every few months, progressing just enough to impress himself before he set them aside again. He wasn¡¯t lost. He knew who he was.


    Or did he?


    In his current state, confused and overwhelmed, Joey couldn¡¯t blame anyone for questioning everything, including himself. But as the figure¡¯s question lingered, something about it irritated him. Finally, he snapped.


    ¡°Who am I? I¡¯m me,¡± he said, his voice firm despite his confusion.


    For a split second, Joey thought he saw a flicker of something in the figure¡¯s form¡ªa brief moment of happiness, maybe even satisfaction. It was so quick he couldn¡¯t be sure, but something felt different. Not bad, just¡­ odd.


    The figure¡¯s laugh broke the silence. It echoed around him, bouncing in strange, distorted tones. It didn¡¯t feel like a real laugh, it was almost artificial, as though the Void itself amplified and twisted the sound. Joey¡¯s brain tried to make sense of it, applying patterns like it always did, trying to process the unprocessable.


    ¡°Good answer,¡± the figure said, amusement lacing its voice. ¡°I like it. Let¡¯s hope it stays that way.¡±


    Joey frowned, annoyed now. ¡°Why did you bring me here? What am I doing in this place?¡±


    The figure tilted its head. ¡°That¡¯s a question only you can answer.¡±


    Joey clenched his fists, irritation bubbling up. ¡°Yeah, great. Thanks for nothing. Fuck you, too,¡± he muttered angrily.


    The figure laughed again, this time louder. ¡°Don¡¯t lose yourself, Joey. You¡¯ll find your path.¡± Its voice echoed unnaturally, the laughter resonating even as the figure began to fade. It became lighter, less distinct, until it was nothing more than a wisp of smoke.


    ¡°What the¡ªhey, don¡¯t disappear on me! What the hell is this cliffhanger bullshit? Come back here!¡± Joey shouted, furious.


    Another laugh, faint and distant, echoed one last time before everything went silent.


    From above, at least from Joey¡¯s perspective in the void, a golden orb of light began to descend. It was small, glowing softly, with a faint radiance that pulsed like a heartbeat. Joey instinctively reached out and touched it. The moment his fingers made contact, words filled his mind, clear and unwavering.


    "The Seed of Memory".


    The Seed of Memory grants the bearer enhanced recall of past and future events, encompassing thoughts, movements, and learned skills. The strength of the memory varies based on the bearer¡¯s existing knowledge and understanding. For example, one cannot draw a world map without first studying cartography.


    ¡°What the hell¡­¡± Joey muttered.

 Chapter 3 Important and necessary

    Awakening groggily, Joey turned his head, still disoriented. His eyes landed on the hunter, who sat casually next to him, munching on an apple as though nothing in the world concerned him.


    ¡°What? Why are you staring at me like that?¡± the hunter said, raising an eyebrow as he took the final bite of his apple. With a nonchalant flick of his wrist, he tossed the core toward a small wooden bucket on the other side of the room into a makeshift trash bin.


    The core sailed through the air, spinning perfectly, before landing inside the bucket without so much as grazing its rim. Joey blinked, momentarily impressed.


    "With that kind of precision, this guy should be playing baseball," Joey thought to himself, before pausing.


    ¡°Wait, do they even know what baseball is here?¡±


    The fleeting thought came and went just as quickly, slipping into the forgotten recesses of his tired mind.


    The hunter leaned back on his stool, his tone growing sharper. ¡°So, now that you¡¯ve had a nice, relaxing three-day nap, during which I had to figure out how to get water into you without you choking to death, also I cleaned, stitched, and dressed that nasty wound on your leg. Maybe now you can finally tell me who you are and what happened.¡±


    Joey froze. "Who I am?" The words rang strangely familiar. He¡¯d heard them before, hadn¡¯t he? But where? His thoughts flickered to a vague silhouette in the darkness, but the memory was hazy, like trying to recall a dream after waking up.


    ¡°Yes, who you are and why the hell you were lying half-dead in the middle of the forest,¡± the hunter pressed. ¡°Especially in a spot so deep in the woods that I¡¯m the only person who¡¯s been there for years.¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­ ehhh¡­¡± Joey stammered. His mind spun, a hurricane of thoughts battering him from all directions.


    The hunter sighed, leaning forward slightly. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll start. Maybe it¡¯ll help you get your thoughts together.¡±


    He straightened, crossing his arms. ¡°My name is Lucius, I¡¯m 23 years old, and I¡¯m a hunter by trade. That forest where I found you? That¡¯s where I work. Now it¡¯s your turn,¡± he said, his tone almost teasing as though Joey¡¯s answer held some great, ancient secret he couldn¡¯t wait to uncover.


    Joey took a shaky breath, still struggling to piece his thoughts together. His voice came out hoarse, his nerves rattled. ¡°M-my name is¡­¡±


    Suddenly, a piercing pain exploded in Joey¡¯s head, like a thousand bombs going off simultaneously and then one after another in quick succession. He gasped, his hands flying to his temples, instinctively trying to shield himself from the unbearable agony.


    A guttural noise escaped his throat, somewhere between a groan and a low, pained growl, as his body tensed against the waves of torment.


    Lucius, startled by the sudden shift, jumped to his feet. ¡°What¡¯s wrong? What¡¯s happening?¡± he asked, his voice laced with concern.


    Joey didn¡¯t respond, his body hunched forward, his hands clutching his head as the pain surged through him like a tidal wave. Everything else¡ªthe room, Lucius¡¯s voice, even the bandages on his body faded into the background as the searing pain consumed his mind.


    Joey lay on the bed, his breathing uneven, as the stabbing pain in his head began to subside. It felt like the deafening roar of static fading into complete silence. Just as the pain vanished, words appeared in his mind but were not spoken, not heard, but simply¡­ there. They stood clear and steady, like an echo etched into his consciousness:


    "Echo of Will. Strength born of persistence. Change flows from resolve."


    Joey opened his eyes, blinking against the dim light of the room. ¡°What the hell does that mean?¡± he muttered softly, the words still reverberating in his head. It sounded like a strange mix of a motivational quote and a prophecy. He shook the thought off. Maybe it was just the aftereffect of his injury, or a dream.


    He sat up slowly, his muscles heavy and sluggish. But there was another pressing need. ¡°Shit,¡± he thought. ¡°I need to use the bathroom.¡±


    Lucius, sitting back on his stool with another apple in hand, glanced at him from the corner of his eye. ¡°You alright?¡± he asked, his tone casual, showing little concern.


    Joey gave a slow nod, though his head still felt slightly foggy. ¡°Yeah¡­ I think so. Just need to¡­¡± He gestured vaguely toward the door, which he assumed led outside. Lucius understood immediately.


    ¡°Ah, got it,¡± Lucius said with a small smirk, pointing toward a wooden bucket in the corner of the room with his apple. ¡°In case you¡¯re wondering, that¡¯s the emergency bucket. But there¡¯s something better outside, if you think you can walk.¡± He gave Joey a mildly teasing look.


    ¡°I¡¯ll manage,¡± Joey murmured, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. His injured leg felt stiff, and the wound throbbed faintly, but the pain wasn¡¯t nearly as bad as he had expected. With effort and a few deep breaths, he pushed himself upright onto unsteady feet.


    Lucius raised an eyebrow, watching him as he carefully, yet determinedly, made his way toward the door. His movements were slow, but there was a strange steadiness to them. Lucius remained silent, the apple still in his hand, but he couldn¡¯t help his curiosity.


    ¡°With that wound, he¡¯s already walking?¡± he thought to himself, but said nothing.


    Step by painful step, Joey made his way out of the house, his leg throbbing with every movement. Once outside, he was greeted by the sight of a forest, not a dense, dark one, but a sprawling patch of nature with enough vegetation to feel untamed. The air was crisp and cool, carrying the earthy scent of leaves and soil. In front of him, he spotted what looked like a small wooden shack.


    ¡°That must be the toilet,¡± he thought grimly, dragging himself toward it.


    The structure was basic, a small wooden hut raised slightly off the ground, with a slanted roof made of overlapping wooden planks. It had no windows, just a single door with a makeshift latch, and faint scratches and marks showed years of use. Joey opened the creaky door and peered inside.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    The interior was simple and, by modern standards, primitive. A rectangular wooden bench dominated the space, with a hole in the center leading to a pit beneath. A faint, unpleasant smell lingered in the air, though it wasn¡¯t as overpowering as he expected. A small clay pot sat in one corner, filled with water, along with a few scraps of cloth hanging on pegs hammered into the wall. The floor was bare dirt, compacted and uneven, and there was a stack of rough, flat stones piled neatly beside the bench.


    Joey¡¯s stomach churned, urging him forward. "Well, when you gotta go, you gotta go," he muttered to himself, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him.


    He lowered his pants and sat on the bench. For a brief moment, he closed his eyes and sighed. "Important and necessary," he thought, his own attempt at a joke to distract himself from the situation.


    Once finished, Joey reached for what should have been toilet paper, only to find¡­ nothing. His heart sank. Of course, there wouldn¡¯t be toilet paper here. Why would there be? Still, the disappointment was real. He glanced around, his eyes landing on the pile of stones.


    ¡°Are they serious?¡± he muttered, picking one up. It was a flat piece of smooth stone, clearly meant for¡­ hygiene. With a grimace, he used it, trying not to think too much about the process. Once done, he noticed the scraps of cloth hanging on the wall. He wiped his hands carefully on one, hoping it wasn¡¯t too important, then reached for the small pot of water to clean them as best as he could. The whole process was awkward, uncomfortable, and utterly foreign.


    As he pulled his pants back up, something struck him. His boxers. These are still his own modern pair of Boxers that were intact, but the pants he was wearing now weren¡¯t. Instead, they were made of rough, sturdy fabric, tied at the waist with a simple cord. They looked like something a hunter or woodsman might wear.


    Joey frowned. ¡°Well, at least my boxers survived. Small victories, I guess.¡± He adjusted the cord and sighed. ¡°I¡¯ve gotta figure out how to get more of these. Can¡¯t be that hard to find someone who makes clothes, right?¡±


    Shaking his head at the absurdity of his situation, Joey stepped out of the latrine, feeling slightly more human again, even if his dignity had taken a hit. The forest air hit him once more, refreshing and sharp. Now, he just had to figure out what to do next.


    Joey pushed open the creaky wooden door and stepped back inside the house. For the first time, he truly took in his surroundings, realizing this was where he¡¯d unknowingly spent the last three days. The room was dimly lit, with sunlight trickling in through a small, crooked wooden shutter and the faint glow of embers in an open hearth against one wall. The air smelled of burnt wood and herbs, a mix of practicality and rustic charm.


    The house was small, modest, and clearly built for function. This main room seemed to serve as a combined living, dining, and workspace. The walls were rough stone, unevenly fitted together, with no plaster to cover the cracks. Exposed wooden beams ran across the low ceiling, dark and weathered, with visible scratches and dents from years of use.


    A heavy wooden table dominated one corner of the room. It was scarred and stained, likely from years of cutting meat, sharpening tools, and other rugged tasks. Scattered across its surface were a handful of hunting tools: several arrows with roughly feathered fletching, a coiled piece of leather, a whetstone, and a small bowl filled with what looked like bone fragments and sinew.


    The walls told the story of Lucius¡¯ life. Above the table, several spears and bows hung neatly in rows, each one looking well-used but cared for. Nearby, a few animal pelts were tacked up like makeshift tapestries. Some were still soft and plush, while others had dried stiff over time. In one corner, a stack of rolled-up furs sat, likely used as bedding when Lucius went on long hunting trips.


    Joey¡¯s eyes were drawn to two large animal skulls mounted near the hearth. Their wide, branching antlers gave the room an almost regal air, though the whiteness of the bone was a stark reminder of their origin. Beneath the skulls stood a simple wooden shelf cluttered with earthenware jars, wooden bowls, and a few rough-hewn cutting boards. Some of the jars were etched with crude patterns, as though they had been made by hand.


    The hearth itself was purely functional. A small pot sat over the embers, bubbling softly with what looked like a stew. Nearby, bundles of dried herbs were tied neatly with string and placed on a flat stone slab, ready for use.


    The floor was nothing more than packed earth, uneven and cool underfoot. A few animal skins were spread around, providing some warmth and comfort. Joey also spotted a rough wooden chair propped against one wall, its edges fraying from wear. Resting on its arm was a bow, its string taut and ready. Next to the chair, a stool stood by the window with a basket atop it, filled with hazelnuts and dried fruits.


    The room lacked anything Joey would recognize as modern comfort. There was no softness, no luxury, everything in the house was utilitarian. Yet, it wasn¡¯t cold or uninviting. Everything seemed deliberate, carefully chosen. The pelts, the weapons, the herbs, all of it spoke to a life tied deeply to the forest, to survival, and to the hunt.


    ¡° You enjoying it? ¡± Lucius asked with a grin, watching Joey as he inspected the room.


    Joey turned toward him, still taking in the rustic but oddly charming space. Lucius walked over to the mounted skulls, proudly displayed on a sturdy wooden plaque fastened to the stone wall.


    ¡°These,¡± Lucius said, gesturing toward the skulls, ¡°are my proudest trophies.¡± His tone was firm, almost reverent, as he looked at them.


    Joey raised an eyebrow. ¡°Trophies, huh?¡±


    Lucius nodded. ¡°Every one of these is a story, a hunt, and a reminder of hard-earned victory.¡± He pointed at one of the skulls, its antlers sprawling outward like jagged tree branches.


    ¡°This one here was a stag. One of the largest I¡¯ve ever seen in these forests. Took me a full day to track it. It was smart, always staying just ahead of me. When I finally caught up, I had to hit it twice with my spear to bring it down. Almost lost it in a ravine.¡± He smiled faintly, as if reliving the moment.


    Moving to the next skull, Lucius gestured at its sharper, more angular features. ¡°This one¡¯s a boar. A big one, mean as hell. It nearly gored me before I got it. You see that crack in the skull?¡± He traced a finger along a jagged line. ¡°That¡¯s from the last blow, it was a spear I¡¯d carved myself. Broke the damn thing in half, but it got the job done.¡±


    Joey listened, nodding along, but his attention was drawn to the third skull. It was massive, far larger than the others, with curved horns that spiraled outward like a ram¡¯s but far more menacing. The bone itself was thick, and the sheer size of it made Joey instinctively take a step back.


    ¡°And this,¡± Lucius said, his voice quieter now, almost in awe, ¡°this is my greatest hunt.¡± He rested a hand on the massive skull, his eyes gleaming with pride.


    Joey frowned. ¡°What is it?¡±


    "Aurochs,¡± Lucius said simply.


    Joey blinked. ¡°Aurochs?¡±


    ¡°A wild bull,¡± Lucius explained. ¡°Not just any, though. This one was massive, even for an aurochs. Bigger than any I¡¯d ever seen or heard of. I spent months preparing for this hunt. Its tracks were deeper than any stag, its strength unmatched. I needed better weapons, more patience, and sheer determination to bring it down. When I finally killed it, the forest felt quieter, as if even nature itself was acknowledging the beast¡¯s fall.¡±


    Joey looked at the skull again, his gaze lingering on its sharp, curved horns and the sheer size of the thing. It was hard to imagine something so enormous roaming the woods, let alone one man bringing it down.


    Lucius continued, his voice filled with enthusiasm. He described the final moments of the hunt, the weight of the spear in his hands, the roar of the aurochs as it charged him. His words painted the scene vividly, and for a moment, Joey could almost see the massive creature as it once was.


    As they talked, Lucius casually motioned for Joey to follow him. Without thinking, Joey found himself moving with him toward the heavy wooden table in the corner. Lucius grabbed a jug of water and poured two clay cups, setting one in front of Joey as they sat down.


    ¡°Now,¡± Lucius said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. ¡°Enough about me.¡± His tone shifted, and his gaze locked onto Joey. ¡°Your turn. This has been eating at me for days.¡±


    Joey blinked. ¡°What?¡±


    Lucius leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. ¡°Who are you? And why the hell were you lying out there in the forest, wounded and half-dead?¡±

 Chapter 4 Bene tibi sit!

    "What am I supposed to say? I was at a party, got drunk, stumbled into bed, and suddenly woke up in an alley?" Joey thought to himself as he processed Lucius question.


    "My name¡¯s Joey, and I can¡¯t remember anything," he said aloud, his voice calm but laced with uncertainty.


    "Can¡¯t remember anything?" Lucius repeated, eyebrows raised in disbelief. His voice carried both curiosity and concern as he leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. "That might explain it. Could be the fall. When I found you, it was a miracle you were even alive, let alone with just one major wound." He studied Joey carefully, his expression growing more serious.


    "But¡­ really? Nothing at all? Where you¡¯re from, your family name, if you have parents or maybe a wife?" He paused, grinning mischievously. "Or several wives?" The last part came out with a teasing, sarcastic tone.


    Joey blinked and sighed deeply. "No, I don¡¯t remember any of that. No hometown, no family, no¡­ supposed wives." His voice dropped as he admitted it, feeling a pang of frustration at his own helplessness.


    Lucius¡¯ grin widened. "Wait, hold on. Several wives? Why did that get special emphasis with such a smug tone?" Joey¡¯s tone sharpened as he realized the jab.


    "BAHAHAHA!" Lucius burst into laughter, pounding the table with his fist as his whole body shook. His chair tilted back dangerously as he rocked with laughter, his arms flailing in a desperate attempt to regain balance.


    "Woah, woah, woah!" Lucius cried, his arms flapping in the air like he was trying to catch an invisible rope. But his efforts were in vain, and with a loud crash, the chair tipped backward, sending him sprawling onto the floor. The noise echoed through the small room, shaking the wooden shelves slightly, before everything fell still.


    Joey froze, unsure if he should laugh or stay serious. He didn¡¯t know Lucius well enough to gauge what reaction was appropriate. His mind raced. "Don¡¯t laugh, Joey. Don¡¯t laugh. Just keep it together." He clenched his jaw, turning his head away, trying to stifle any reaction.


    His mouth betrayed him, though. His lips twitched as he forced the corners of his mouth downward in a strained attempt to suppress a grin.


    Then, unbidden, a random memory from his childhood surfaced. An old joke from a TV show he loved to watch as a child.


    "Do you know what¡¯s better than 24?"


    "What?"


    "25."


    "Shit," Joey muttered under his breath as a grin broke across his face. No amount of willpower could stop it now, and his lips stretched wider, his attempts to suppress the laugh utterly failing.


    Lucius groaned as he sat up, brushing dirt off his clothes and adjusting the chair back into place. "I see you¡¯re having fun too," he muttered, his voice calmer now as he placed the chair upright and leaned on it for support.


    Propping himself up, Lucius looked over at Joey, his grin returning as he saw the younger man struggling to control himself. "But seriously," he said, leaning forward onto the table with both elbows. His tone shifted back to curiosity. "You can¡¯t remember anything? Not even how you ended up in that forest, bleeding out?"


    Lucius pulled the chair back toward him and sat down again, listening closely to Joey.


    "Of course I remember," Joey thought sarcastically, his internal monologue kicking in. "I randomly woke up in an alley, without any recollection of where i am I ran out of the city while having an existential crisis combined with an mental breakdown, stumbled around until I tripped, blacked out, and woke up in some dark void with a smoke person vaguely shaped like a human. Yep, that would go over well."


    Instead, Joey shrugged and replied, "No, nothing. Just that I woke up in the forest, in a lot of pain."


    Lucius leaned back against the chair, his arms stretched across its back, his fingers drumming lazily on the wood. His grin was still there, but it carried a hint of frustration now, like a man wrestling with thoughts he¡¯d kept to himself for far too long.


    ¡°And here I thought,¡± he began, his voice light but tinged with sarcasm, ¡°that I¡¯d finally get something extraordinary. You show up out of nowhere, bleeding out in the middle of the woods, and I think, ¡®Ah, maybe this is it. Some grand mystery. Something exciting.¡¯¡± He chuckled, shaking his head. ¡°Turns out, it¡¯s just another case of someone who can¡¯t remember a damn thing.¡±


    Joey watched as Lucius pushed himself upright and turned toward the window. His broad shoulders filled the small room, and for a moment, he just stared outside, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the chair¡¯s back.


    ¡°You know,¡± Lucius continued, his tone dropping into something softer, almost wistful, ¡°it¡¯s peaceful out here. No one bothers me. No noisy neighbors. No crowds pushing and shoving. Just me, the trees, and the animals.¡± He paused, tilting his head slightly. ¡°But sometimes, peace gets lonely.¡±


    The firelight flickered behind Lucius, catching the sharp angles of his face. ¡°Don¡¯t get me wrong,¡± he said, gesturing vaguely with one hand, ¡°I love the hunt. There¡¯s nothing else like it. The thrill, the chase, the moment you finally take down the beast. It¡¯s what keeps me out here. Keeps me from packing up and moving to some big, stinking city.¡±


    Lucius leaned his head back and let out a slow breath. ¡°But the hunt¡­ it¡¯s fleeting. A rush, and then it¡¯s gone. And then what? You wait. You sit and wait for the next one.¡± His voice grew quieter, almost as if he were speaking more to himself than to Joey. ¡°Sometimes I think about leaving. But then I remember how much I hate people.¡±


    Joey stayed silent, unsure whether to respond or just let the man talk.


    Lucius turned back to face him, his grin returning, though it had a sharper edge now. He leaned forward over the chair, his eyes locking onto Joey¡¯s. ¡°You know what? I don¡¯t care if you¡¯re lying or telling the truth. Doesn¡¯t matter. Life¡¯s boring as hell anyway. I need a reason to shake things up.¡±


    Joey blinked. ¡°What¡­ what do you mean?¡±


    Lucius pushed off the chair and stood to his full height, crossing his arms as he studied Joey. ¡°You¡¯re in no position to say no, kid. Not after I saved your sorry ass and patched you up. That leg of yours would¡¯ve had you dead in a week without me. You owe me.¡± His tone was firm but not unkind. He smirked. ¡°So, I¡¯m cashing in. I need an extra set of hands around here, and you¡¯re it.¡±


    Joey¡¯s heart sank slightly as he tried to process Lucius¡¯ words. He glanced at the man¡¯s broad frame and confident stance, then back down at his own aching body, still held together with bandages and sheer stubbornness. ¡°I guess I don¡¯t have a choice, do I?¡± he said, his voice carrying a note of resigned humor.


    ¡°Nope,¡± Lucius said with a laugh, clearly enjoying Joey¡¯s discomfort.


    Joey exhaled slowly, feeling a knot tighten in his chest. ¡°Great. No idea how this is gonna end,¡± he muttered under his breath, the corners of his mouth twitching into a weak smile.


    Lucius caught the look and barked out another laugh. ¡°Relax, It¡¯ll be good for you. Besides,¡± he added, clapping a hand on the back of the chair, ¡°I could use the company. Don¡¯t make me regret it.¡±


    Joey gave him a nervous grin, unsure whether to feel relieved or terrified. ¡°Yeah. Sure. This¡¯ll be¡­ fine,¡± he said, trying to convince himself as much as Lucius.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    "You must be starving," Lucius said, already making his way toward the small cooking area near the hearth. "You haven¡¯t eaten since I found you, and who knows how long it was before that. If you¡¯re gonna get back on your feet and help me, you¡¯ll need a proper meal first."


    Joey nodded weakly, the idea of food suddenly making him acutely aware of how empty his stomach was. ¡°Yeah¡­ that¡¯d be great,¡± he said, managing a small smile.


    Lucius grinned at the response, his energy picking up as he reached the corner of the room where a few cooking supplies were neatly arranged. ¡°You¡¯re in luck. I¡¯ve got fresh meat, I caught it yesterday. A young boar, not too big, but plenty of meat. Tender, full of flavor. One of my favorite dishes. You¡¯re going to love it.¡±


    He gestured toward a wooden hook near the door, where a piece of the boar¡¯s meat hung wrapped in cloth to keep it fresh. The cloth was stained with faint streaks of blood, and Lucius grabbed it with practiced ease, unwrapping the bundle to reveal a cleanly butchered cut of dark red meat.


    ¡°Nothing beats fresh meat,¡± Lucius said with enthusiasm, his grin widening as he set the meat on a flat stone slab near the hearth. "Especially boar. You¡¯ve never tasted anything like it, I promise you."


    Joey watched as Lucius worked, his movements quick and efficient. The hearth was clearly the centerpiece of the room for more than just warmth. It doubled as the cooking area. A small iron spit was set up over the glowing embers, and several clay pots and wooden bowls were arranged nearby, filled with coarse salt, dried herbs, and other basic ingredients.


    Joey watched as Lucius worked, his movements quick and efficient. The hearth, nestled into the stone wall of the room, was clearly the centerpiece of the space. Unlike the sleek, modern stove tops Joey was used to.Stainless steel, gas burners, electric buttons but this was raw, primal. An open stone frame cradled the glowing embers, their orange light casting flickering shadows across the room. Thick blackened soot lined the inside of the hearth, evidence of years of fires built and meals prepared. Above the embers, a small iron spit was set up, its legs resting on the uneven stone floor, and Joey could see where the constant heat had warped the metal slightly over time.


    The tools around the hearth were equally foreign to him. Instead of knives with polished blades and ergonomic handles, Lucius worked with simple, rugged instruments. A broad, flat blade with a wooden grip that looked hand-carved, a pair of tongs hammered from raw iron, and a heavy mortar and pestle stained with traces of ground herbs and spices. Joey couldn¡¯t help but notice how each item seemed well-used, the marks of time etched into their surfaces. They weren¡¯t clean and shiny like the utensils back home, but they had a strange charm, as though every scratch and stain told a story.


    Scattered nearby were clay pots and wooden bowls, each one slightly irregular in shape, their rough edges betraying the fact that they were handmade. Inside them were the essentials: coarse grains of salt, dried herbs tied in bundles, and a few roots Joey didn¡¯t recognize. There were no neat rows of spice jars or labeled ingredients, just a collection of earthy, practical items. Joey found himself wondering how Lucius could even keep track of it all.


    No fridge, no timers, no fancy gadgets.


    His gaze shifted to the embers themselves. They didn¡¯t flicker like the controlled blue flames of a gas burner. Instead, they pulsed and shifted, alive in a way Joey hadn¡¯t fully appreciated before. The heat was uneven, unpredictable, and yet Lucius seemed to know exactly where to place the meat for the perfect roast. He adjusted the spit with practiced ease, giving it a gentle turn every so often to keep the cooking even. The meat sizzled, small droplets of fat dripping onto the embers below and sending up wisps of smoke that carried the rich aroma through the room.


    ¡°This is so¡­ primitive,¡± Joey thought, his mind drifting back to the modern kitchen he¡¯d left behind. Back home, cooking was clean, efficient. A microwave or an air fryer could do in minutes what this setup probably took hours to accomplish. There were no endless adjustments, no embers to manage, no soot or ash to deal with. Yet, watching Lucius, Joey couldn¡¯t deny the appeal of it all. There was a certain rhythm to it, a connection to the process that felt almost¡­ meditative. It wasn¡¯t just cooking, it was an act of survival, care, and maybe even pride.


    For a moment, Joey let himself imagine how ridiculous he¡¯d look trying to work with this setup. He could barely boil pasta without overcooking it back home, and here was Lucius, effortlessly preparing a feast over an open fire like it was second nature.


    Lucius grabbed a handful of what looked like dried rosemary and crushed it between his fingers, letting the fragrant leaves sprinkle over the meat. ¡°Simple seasonings are all you need,¡± he said, his tone almost instructional. ¡°A bit of salt, some herbs. Anything more is just a waste.¡±


    Joey couldn¡¯t help but notice how Lucius seemed to enjoy the process. He moved with the ease of someone who had done this a thousand times, sprinkling the meat with a pinch of coarse salt and rubbing it in with a firm hand.


    ¡°You cook indoors?¡± Joey asked, curious. In his mind, he pictured Lucius cooking outside, over an open fire in the woods.


    Lucius nodded. ¡°Mostly. Keeps the smell and smoke in one place, especially when the weather¡¯s bad. But sometimes I take it outside. Nothing beats fresh air and a roaring fire.¡±


    He turned to grab a clay pot filled with rendered animal fat, scooping a small amount onto the meat. ¡°This¡¯ll keep it juicy while it roasts,¡± he explained, his enthusiasm clear. He threaded the meat onto the spit and set it over the embers, adjusting it carefully to ensure even cooking.


    As the meat began to sizzle and the room filled with the rich aroma of roasting boar, Lucius stepped back, rubbing his hands together. ¡°Now we wait. Shouldn¡¯t take too long.¡±


    Joey felt his stomach growl audibly, and Lucius laughed. ¡°See? Even your gut knows I¡¯m a damn good cook.¡±


    Joey chuckled nervously. ¡°Well, it already smells amazing, so I¡¯m not gonna argue.¡±


    Lucius grinned, pulling a wooden stool closer to the hearth and sitting down. ¡°You¡¯ll like it, I promise. Once you¡¯ve had boar like this, you¡¯ll never want anything else.¡±


    The fire crackled softly as the two sat in companionable silence, the scent of roasting meat filling the small house. Joey watched the flames dance, his mind momentarily at ease despite everything.


    Both men sat quietly, staring into the flickering flames of the hearth. The soft crackle of wood burning filled the air, an almost hypnotic rhythm as the flames danced and sent faint shadows playing across the walls. Small pieces of bark snapped and popped, adding brief, sharp notes to the otherwise quiet room. Outside, the day had faded into dusk, and the first chirps of crickets began to echo through the forest.


    "You know," Lucius said suddenly, his voice low, his gaze still fixed on the fire, "it¡¯s been a long time since I¡¯ve sat with someone here in the evenings."


    Joey turned his head slightly toward him. "Are you always alone out here?"


    Lucius nodded, leaning forward to pick up a small piece of wood and toss it gently into the fire. His motion was unhurried, a casual flick of his wrist as the piece landed among the embers and began to glow. "Yeah. I¡¯ve been out here alone for years now. The only people I see are in the market of the nearest town. I go there every few weeks to sell meat, furs, and buy the things I can¡¯t make myself."


    Joey frowned, glancing back at the fire. "Doesn¡¯t that get¡­ lonely? Being completely surrounded by the forest? And, well¡­ things that could kill you?"


    Lucius chuckled, his grin catching the firelight as he leaned back slightly, resting his hands on his knees. "There are far fewer things here trying to kill me than in any city, let alone a big one. Out here, I rely on myself, and the only thing that can kill me is my own stupidity." His grin widened. "But yeah, you¡¯re not wrong. It does get lonely sometimes. Still, I prefer this over the chaos of city life."


    As he spoke, he leaned forward again, picking up the last of the firewood. He tossed it into the flames piece by piece, each movement deliberate. "Here," he said, standing and stretching slightly, "the food should be ready by now. We¡¯ll leave the fire going. A little warmth while eating never hurt anyone, right?" His tone was rhetorical, the grin on his face still intact.


    Joey chuckled softly. "Yeah, a little warmth never hurts."


    He shifted slightly, bracing himself to stand, but the sharp ache in his leg forced him to grimace. His movements were slow and stiff as he tried to push himself up.


    "Don¡¯t bother." Lucius made a small, dismissive gesture with his hand, motioning for Joey to stay seated. "I¡¯ll handle it. But when it¡¯s time to sleep, you¡¯ll have to drag yourself to bed. I¡¯ll show you where after we eat." said Lucius with a grin. He stepped away toward the hearth, grabbing a thick cloth to wrap around the iron handle of the pot.


    Joey leaned back, nodding slightly, grateful for the reprieve. He watched as Lucius worked with practiced efficiency. The hunter placed a clay pot in the center of the table, steam rising as the rich scent of roasted boar filled the room. The table, though simple, was neatly arranged. Clay bowls, unevenly shaped and clearly handmade, sat at each place, along with wooden spoons carved from dark, worn wood. There were no forks or knives; everything was meant to be shared and eaten by hand or spoon.


    Lucius sat down with a satisfied grin, pouring a bit of the stew into each bowl. The aroma was intoxicating, earthy and savory, with hints of herbs and roasted meat. He handed a bowl to Joey before grabbing his own.


    "Bene tibi sit!" Lucius said, grinning broadly as he raised his spoon to his mouth. The phrase felt natural, his Latin crisp and casual, though there was an almost ceremonial pride in the way he said it.


    "Bene tibi sit!" Joey repeated, his smile weaker but genuine as his stomach growled audibly.


    Lucius laughed heartily at the sound. "Let¡¯s eat before your stomach decides to devour itself!"


    Joey chuckled nervously and took his first bite. The warmth of the stew spread through him instantly, its rich, unfamiliar flavor unlike anything he¡¯d ever tasted. For a moment, the strangeness of his situation melted away, replaced by the simple, comforting act of sharing a meal. In this fleeting moment, after everything that had happened in such a short time, he felt at peace.

 Chapter 5 Joey Weave

    After finishing the meal, Lucius began clearing the table. There was no sink or basin to wash the dishes like Joey was used to. Instead, Lucius stacked the clay bowls and wooden utensils neatly to the side of the table. He wiped down the surface with a rag that had seen better days, shaking it out onto the dirt floor. Joey noticed he didn¡¯t wash anything, probably saving that task for daylight when it would be easier to haul water from wherever he got it.


    Joey pushed himself up from the table, his leg still aching but not as intensely as before. Lucius noticed immediately and stepped toward him, his hand outstretched. "Hold on, let me help you," Lucius said quickly.


    Joey waved him off with a faint smile. "It¡¯s fine, I need to get used to it even with the injury."


    He rose fully, his movements still stiff but noticeably more fluid than earlier. The pain lingered, but it was duller now, less sharp. Lucius gave him a brief look of surprise, his brow furrowing slightly, but he didn¡¯t say anything and went back to what he was doing.


    As Joey stood, something occurred to him. He looked toward Lucius and asked, "Where am I supposed to sleep?"


    Lucius paused, turning toward Joey with a thoughtful expression. "Oh, right. Let me show you," he said.


    He set down what he was holding and gestured for Joey to follow. They moved through the small house, Lucius leading him to a room Joey hadn¡¯t yet seen. Lucius pushed open a simple wooden door, revealing a small space.


    "This is where I store a few things," Lucius explained, his voice casual. "It¡¯s sort of a storage room, but don¡¯t worry, there¡¯s a bed in here too, and a bucket if you need it," he added with a grin.


    Joey smirked at the joke but couldn¡¯t help his curiosity. "Why do you have a second bed in here?" he asked.


    Lucius hesitated for a moment, then replied simply, "It used to be a bedroom."


    Joey caught a slight shift in Lucius¡¯ tone. His expression was neutral, but there was something else beneath it, something subdued. A faint shadow passed over his face, as though the words carried more weight than he wanted to show. Joey couldn¡¯t quite put his finger on it, but he felt a quiet sadness lingering in the air. It wasn¡¯t in Lucius¡¯ words, but in the way he said them, as if the memory still hung in the room with them.


    "I¡¯ve been living alone for a few years now," Lucius said, his tone calm, but there was a weight to his words that Joey couldn¡¯t ignore. It sounded straightforward enough, but something about the way he said it felt heavier, as if there was more to the story that he wasn¡¯t ready to share.


    "Get some rest," Lucius said, placing the wax candle he had brought on the small table beside the bed. The soft glow flickered faintly, casting gentle shadows across the walls. "If you need anything, just call out. The sooner you¡¯re back on your feet, the sooner you can help me."


    "I¡¯ll do my best," Joey replied, his voice tired but sincere.


    Lucius gave a quick nod and stepped out of the room, pulling the wooden door closed behind him with a soft creak.


    Joey lowered himself onto the bed, feeling the rough but surprisingly sturdy frame beneath him. The weak flame of the wax candle cast a dim, flickering light across the space, making the small room feel even more enclosed. He wasn¡¯t sure if "dimming" was the right word, but it was the only way he could describe the way the light seemed to settle over everything, soft and muted.


    He glanced around the room, taking in his surroundings.


    He glanced around the room, his eyes adjusting to the flickering glow of the candle. The walls were bare stone, cold and uneven, but functional. In one corner, a small wooden rack held an assortment of tools, things Joey didn¡¯t recognize immediately, but he could guess they were for hunting or general repairs. Simple iron blades, hooks, and a few wooden handles stuck out at odd angles, each one well-worn and stained from years of use.


    Near the rack stood a longbow, its string taut and carefully maintained, alongside a small quiver filled with arrows. Joey¡¯s gaze then settled on something that surprised him, a crossbow, plain but clearly functional. Its wooden stock was rough, the iron mechanisms faintly reflecting the dim candlelight. He remembered hearing that such weapons had existed in ancient times, though it still felt strange to see one here. It seemed practical and efficient, a reflection of Lucius himself.


    On the opposite side of the room, a sturdy table sat against the wall, cluttered with various objects. A bundle of dried herbs lay neatly tied with string, next to a whetstone that showed signs of frequent use, and a coiled rope rested beside scraps of leather that had been cut but not yet fashioned into anything. Above the table hung a single sword, its hilt simple but sturdy. The blade wasn¡¯t decorative, instead bearing the faint scars of battles or hunts, its edge slightly nicked yet still sharp enough to serve its purpose.


    Joey¡¯s attention was drawn to a modest bookshelf tucked into another corner, a surprising addition in such a utilitarian space. The books were few, their spines cracked and faded with age. Some had leather covers that looked hand-stitched, while others were little more than bound stacks of parchment. He could imagine Lucius reading these by candlelight, perhaps studying maps or learning techniques for hunting and survival. It was a strange contrast, the ruggedness of the room mixed with the quiet intellect implied by these texts.


    A few scrolls sat neatly rolled and tied with thin cords, possibly maps, records, or written instructions. Joey¡¯s gaze lingered on a small wooden carving of a stag that rested atop the shelf. The figurine was finely detailed, the antlers carved with care and precision. It seemed out of place, almost sentimental, and Joey wondered if it held any personal significance to Lucius.


    The floor near the bed was covered with a pile of furs, stacked in a way that suggested they were used for extra warmth. The faint smell of leather and dried wood filled the air, giving the space an earthy, grounded feeling. Next to the furs was a small clay jug, likely for water, and a wooden bowl that seemed to have been left there as part of the room¡¯s original use.


    Everywhere Joey looked, he found signs of a life that was practical, focused on survival, and deeply connected to the wilderness. The tools, weapons, and even the books each had a purpose, nothing wasted or purely for decoration. Yet, despite its functionality, the room didn¡¯t feel cold or lifeless. The flicker of the candlelight softened the harsh edges, and for a brief moment, Joey felt a sense of comfort. It wasn¡¯t home, but it was safe, and for now, that was enough.


    Joey lay back on the simple bed, the rough fabric of the blanket scratching faintly against his skin. The flickering light of the candle beside him softened the sharp edges of the room, making it feel almost surreal. His mind began to wander, replaying the events of the last few days.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    The alleyway, the strange language, the pain in his leg, Lucius. Everything felt like a strange fever dream, yet it was all too vivid to dismiss as imagination. He sighed, his eyes fluttering closed, his thoughts blurring into a haze as exhaustion overtook him.


    Slowly, Joey drifted off.


    When his eyes opened again, he wasn¡¯t in the small, rustic room. He was standing in the Void. The same endless nothingness as before, but this time, it felt emptier. The faint, oppressive sense of presence he had felt during his first visit was gone. No silhouette, no voice, just silence.


    Joey spun in place, his breath quickening as he searched for something, anything to ground himself. But there was nothing. The pure absence of light or shadow made it impossible to orient himself. Every direction looked the same. Up, down, left, right¡ªit all blurred together into a single, infinite void.


    ¡°What the hell?¡± he whispered, his voice echoing faintly before the sound disappeared into the nothingness.


    He turned again, his movements growing frantic, when suddenly, a faint "ding" echoed behind him. The noise was startling in the oppressive silence, crisp and clear, almost mechanical. Joey froze, his heart pounding, before slowly turning around.


    In front of him, floating in the air, was¡­ something. It wasn¡¯t a person, or an object he could describe easily. It resembled a glowing, translucent interface, like something ripped straight out of a video game. The text and symbols floated in mid-air, softly pulsing with an unnatural light.


    Joey blinked, his confusion deepening. ¡°What the¡­?¡±


    The interface shimmered faintly, as if responding to his presence. Lines of text began to appear, written in a language he couldn¡¯t quite place, yet somehow, he understood every word.


    Name: Joey Weave


    Age: 20


    Path: Wanderer


    Unique Thread: "Knowledge Beyond Time"


    Attributes:


    Perception: Awakened


    Adaptation: In Progress


    Physical Resilience: Enhanced


    Connections:


    The Hunter (Lucius): Stable


    The Unknown (Void): Undefined


    Joey blinked, his eyes adjusting to the faint glow of the floating interface in front of him. The words shimmered softly, casting a dim light in the darkness around him. His breath hitched, his mind racing to comprehend what he was seeing.


    "This... looks like an interface from all those games," he muttered, his voice echoing slightly in the emptiness. His gaze traveled slowly across the lines, taking in the surreal information.


    Name: Joey Weave


    His name hovered at the top clear and simple. He¡¯d seen it so many times before yet something about seeing it here felt different almost unfamiliar.


    Age: 20


    That was accurate. At least one thing made sense.


    Path: Wanderer


    He frowned. A wanderer? It sounded like some kind of role or title, but the more he thought about it, the more it felt right. He was lost in this world, moving without direction or purpose.


    Unique Thread: "Knowledge Beyond Time"


    His breath caught. "Knowledge beyond time?" he whispered. The phrase felt heavy, laden with meaning that he couldn¡¯t yet grasp. It felt as if the interface knew something about him that he didn¡¯t.


    His focus shifted to the Attributes:


    Perception: Awakened


    "Awakened? What does that even mean?" he murmured, but deep down, he felt that it wasn¡¯t just about being awake. It was something more, something deeper.


    Adaptation: In Progress


    "Okay, this one makes sense," Joey said, almost to himself. He thought about how his body had adjusted, even in pain. The steps he¡¯d taken earlier, the way he¡¯d started to move faster¡ªit all aligned.


    Physical Resilience: Enhanced


    His eyes widened. "Enhanced? No wonder I¡¯m still alive after everything," he muttered, recalling the fall, the injuries, and how quickly he¡¯d managed to stand again.


    At last, he reached to Connections


    The Hunter (Lucius): Stable


    A small smile tugged at his lips. Lucius. He¡¯d saved him, taken him in, and treated him like a human when he could¡¯ve left him to die. It made sense that this bond felt strong.


    The Unknown (Void): Undefined


    Joey¡¯s face darkened. "The Void¡­ That place," he murmured. His stomach turned at the memory of the silhouette that had spoken to him.


    The interface flickered briefly, like a candle in the wind, then began to fade. Joey¡¯s heart skipped a beat. "Wait, no!" he called out, reaching toward it, but the light disappeared in a soft glow, leaving him alone in the silence.


    Joey jolted awake, his breath quick and shallow. He lay still for a moment, his mind racing. Outside, daylight had already crept into the room, illuminating its modest interior. Birds chirped energetically in the distance, their songs breaking the quiet. The candle beside him was long extinguished, its wax pooled at the base.


    "What the hell was that just now?" Joey muttered to himself, his voice still groggy.


    His thoughts were interrupted by the steady sound of something being struck outside. He sat up on the edge of the bed and glanced out the window.


    Through the small, dusty pane, he could see Lucius in the clearing, chopping wood. Each swing of the axe was deliberate, the logs splitting cleanly under the impact.


    "Well, he¡¯s certainly hardworking," Joey remarked, his voice tinged with surprise.


    The thought struck him, could he already be of any use to Lucius? He pulled up his pant leg to examine the wound on his leg. The gash that had once throbbed with pain now looked far better, the edges clean and showing signs of remarkable healing.


    "Strange. It doesn¡¯t hurt as much anymore. There¡¯s still some soreness, but nothing too bothersome," he said to himself. "probably because of the new Attribute i have. With this it could be normal for wounds to heal faster." His tone carried a mix of curiosity and wonder.


    He got to his feet, stretching his arms wide and loosening the stiffness in his muscles. His eyes roamed the room, taking in the details he hadn¡¯t fully appreciated before.


    The small space felt practical but lived-in. A rough wooden table in the corner held scattered tools and a few books with worn covers. The shelves along one wall were lined with random things: spools of thread, small jars, and what looked like animal pelts neatly folded. A modest bow hung above the door frame, its string taut and ready for use. The bed he had just risen from was plain but sturdy, joey folded the blankets with care.


    Joey took a moment to smooth out the blanket and fluff the pillow. "I should head out to Lucius. Maybe I can help him with something," he said to himself, straightening up.


    With that, he walked out of the room, ready to see if he could of any help to Lucius.


    In the kitchen, Joey noticed everything had been cleaned and tidied. On the dining table, however, there was a plate of leftovers from last night¡¯s meal. Next to it sat an empty plate, faint scraps hinting it once held the same dish.


    He sat down and began eating, his stomach growling in anticipation. "Normally, I¡¯d be watching YouTube or something," he said quietly to himself, almost amused by the thought.


    As he ate, his gaze drifted to the window. Outside, Lucius was still chopping wood. Each swing of the axe came down with incredible force, splitting the logs cleanly. The sheer power behind every movement was impressive, the wood splitting effortlessly under the weight of each strike.


    The logs weren¡¯t small either. These were hefty chunks of timber, the kind most people wouldn¡¯t handle so easily, let alone split in a single swing. Joey couldn¡¯t help but watch in fascination as Lucius continued with relentless precision, his movements steady and unyielding.


    "Why is this guy still single? If he¡¯s single, then honestly, there¡¯s no hope for anyone else," Joey said to himself with a small laugh.


    The humor faded slightly as Joey kept watching. He really did wonder why Lucius lived out here completely alone. Sure, it made sense,


    he loved the wilderness, the hunt, and the solitude. But with how capable, hardworking, and, frankly, physically imposing he was, it was surprising no one had claimed him, or that he hadn¡¯t found someone to share his life with.


    Joey shook his head with a smile as he finished his meal. "Maybe I¡¯ll ask him one day," he thought to himself before standing up and going outside to greet Lucius.

 Chapter 6: First Strikes

    Joey stepped out of the house, and Lucius caught sight of him from the corner of his eye. He stopped mid-swing, setting the axe head beside him, and leaned his weight casually on the handle, the motion smooth and practiced.


    "Good morning," Joey greeted.


    "Good morning," Lucius replied, his tone neutral but direct. "Did you eat the plate I left for you on the table?"


    "Yeah, thanks again. Can I help you with something?" Joey asked, glancing toward the pile of wood Lucius had already split.


    Lucius raised an eyebrow, a hint of concern in his voice as he replied, "Are you sure? I did say I want you back on your feet as soon as possible, but I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d be ready to jump in the very next day."


    "I¡¯m fine," Joey said, demonstrating with a few steps to show his improved stability. His arms spread slightly in a playful display of confidence. "Look at me, I¡¯m moving way better than yesterday."


    Lucius shrugged. "Alright, but before anything else, let me check that wound."


    Joey pulled up his pant leg to reveal the injured area. Lucius crouched down, carefully inspecting it. The wound, though still visible, was healing remarkably well, almost unnaturally so.


    "It¡¯s scarred over pretty quickly," Lucius muttered, standing back up, his expression showing subtle surprise.


    He turned toward the shed at the side of the house, where his tools were stored. "Wait here," he called over his shoulder, walking with purpose.


    Joey followed at a slight distance, observing the way Lucius moved with effortless strength. As Lucius rummaged through the tools, the sounds of clinking and shifting wood filled the air.


    "Ever swung an axe before?" Lucius asked, his voice muffled by the shed¡¯s walls.


    "Not yet," Joey called back.


    "Aha, knew it was here somewhere," Lucius said triumphantly, stepping out with a slightly smaller axe in hand. Though smaller than the one Lucius had been using, it was still hefty by modern standards, something Joey immediately noticed.


    "This was my first axe," Lucius said, a faint nostalgic grin crossing his face. "The first real weapon I ever owned. Used it for years until I was strong enough to handle the big one." He raised his massive axe briefly to demonstrate, its weight clear even in the short motion.


    "You ever chopped wood before?" Lucius asked.


    "Nope," Joey admitted, shaking his head.


    Lucius looked at him skeptically. "Alright then, what are you good at?"


    Joey tapped his temple with a finger. "This," he replied.


    Lucius smirked. "Ah, a thinker, are you? Let¡¯s hope you didn¡¯t forget how to use that brain of yours," he quipped, his tone laced with irony.


    "I don¡¯t remember much, but you can see I¡¯m not exactly built for strength," Joey said, flexing his arm with a wry grin.


    Lucius burst out laughing. "Yeah, I can tell," he said between chuckles.


    "Alright, let¡¯s see what you can do. Take this," Lucius said, handing him the smaller axe. He picked up a chunk of wood and placed it upright on a chopping block. "Try splitting this."


    Joey nodded, gripping the axe tightly. He focused on the piece of wood, lining up the shot in his head. Taking a deep breath, he lifted the axe high, screaming as he swung down with all his strength and....


    missed entirely.


    Lucius doubled over, laughing uncontrollably. He dropped to the ground, clutching his sides as his laughter echoed through the clearing.


    "That was too good!" Lucius wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes.


    Joey¡¯s eye twitched as frustration bubbled up. He yanked the axe free from the ground where it had lodged while hearing Lucius laughter, muttering under his breath, "This time, I¡¯m hitting it for sure."


    Joey took a deep breath, gripping the handle of the axe tighter until his knuckles turned pale. He refocused his gaze on the chunk of wood, ignoring the sting of Lucius¡¯ laughter still echoing in his ears. It wasn¡¯t just embarrassment that burned in his chest; it was frustration, a deep urge to prove he could do it. He adjusted his stance, stepping forward slightly to ground himself more firmly.


    The muscles in his arms tensed as he raised the smaller axe over his head, his eyes fixed unwaveringly on the target. This time he wouldn¡¯t miss. His breaths became shallow, his heartbeat quickening with the anticipation of the strike. A faint twitch flickered in his eyelid, a sign of the pent-up tension coursing through him. Sweat beaded on his brow, trickling down his temple as the weight of the moment pressed on him.


    Lucius, still on the ground, gasped for air as his laughter subsided into wheezing chuckles. He wiped away a tear from the corner of his eye, catching his breath. As he glanced back up toward Joey, the sharp sunlight behind him made him squint. From his low vantage point, the light turned Joey into a stark silhouette against the blazing sky.


    For a fleeting moment, Lucius¡¯ vision blurred. Joey¡¯s lean frame seemed to shift, transforming into a broader, more commanding figure. A man with strong shoulders and an aura of unyielding strength took Joey¡¯s place. Lucius¡¯ breath hitched as the shadowed outline stirred a memory he had buried deep within himself. The vision was brief but vivid, dredging up emotions he thought he had long since locked away.


    The laughter drained from Lucius¡¯ face, replaced by an uneasy silence. The air around him felt unnaturally still. His mind tried to grasp the image, to put it back together, but it slipped through his fingers like sand. A heaviness settled over him as he tried to push the memory back down, where it belonged.


    Joey, oblivious to Lucius¡¯ shift in demeanor, let out a sharp exhale. With every ounce of frustration and determination coursing through his body, he swung the axe downward in one fluid motion. His muscles tensed, his stance steady, and his scream rang out louder than any sound he had made before. His entire body moved as one with the strike, his will and focus channeled into the swing.


    The axe slammed down with force, the sound reverberating through the clearing. But as Lucius¡¯ thoughts snapped back to the present, it was clear what had happened. Joey had missed the mark once again.


    Lucius burst into laughter once more, though this time it was less carefree. The lingering memory still hung over him, making his amusement feel oddly hollow.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    Joey yelled out in frustration, throwing his arms up. "Damn it!" he shouted into the trees, his whole body tense with anger.


    Lucius wiped a hand across his face, still chuckling. "You¡¯ve got spirit, I¡¯ll give you that," he said, pulling himself back to his feet. "But you¡¯re missing the technique. Go grab me some water from the house and then I¡¯ll show you how it¡¯s done." He gestured toward the house with his thumb.


    Joey¡¯s anger deflated as quickly as it had risen. "Fine," he said, nodding. "I need a drink too. That was exhausting." He handed the axe back to Lucius and headed toward the house.


    While Joey was inside fetching water, Lucius decided to pull the axe out of the large log. He approached it with the usual ease he expected, grasped the handle firmly, and gave it a tug.


    "Hmm?" he muttered, eyebrows furrowing slightly. The axe didn¡¯t budge.


    Surprised, Lucius adjusted his stance, tightened his grip, and applied more force, not so much that it strained him, but far more than what he usually needed for something like this. Finally, with a grunt of effort, the axe slid free, leaving a clean gouge in the wood.


    "What a hit," Lucius murmured, astonished. The axe had embedded itself so deeply that only the very top of the head and the handle had been visible. He stared at it for a moment, still processing.


    Before he could dwell further, Joey¡¯s voice snapped him back to the present. He turned to see Joey approaching, carrying a large jug of water.


    "Here¡¯s your water," Joey said, holding it out in front of him.


    "Ah, thanks," Lucius replied, taking it and lifting it to his lips. He drank deeply, the water a welcome relief under the intense spring sun.


    "Ahhhh, that¡¯s exactly what I needed," Lucius said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.


    The warm season was in full swing, and though it was only spring, the sun beat down heavily, hinting at the approaching summer. The air was thick with warmth, and beads of sweat clung to both men.


    "Yeah, I just downed three jugs myself," Joey said, his tone light but genuine, a small smile on his face.


    Lucius chuckled and handed the jug back to Joey. "Just set it down for now. We¡¯ll take it back later."


    Joey nodded and placed the jug a few meters away, out of the way of their work area.


    Lucius turned back to him, his expression shifting to something more serious. His playful demeanor gave way to a focused intensity, the aura of someone stepping into the role of a teacher.


    "The first thing we need to fix is your stance," Lucius began. His voice was firm but instructive. "Right now, you¡¯re wasting way too much energy with each swing. And because of that, you¡¯re completely off target. You saw what happened."


    Joey felt a flicker of embarrassment but nodded, listening carefully.


    "The way you¡¯re gripping the axe is also wrong. With that grip, you¡¯re not channeling your strength efficiently."


    Lucius picked up the smaller axe Joey had been using earlier. "Watch me carefully and pay attention to how I move," he said.


    He stepped toward a new log and planted it firmly on the chopping block. His stance was grounded, feet shoulder-width apart, his weight evenly distributed. Lucius adjusted his grip on the axe handle, one hand close to the base for leverage and the other higher up for control.


    He exhaled slowly, raising the axe high in a smooth arc, his arms extending fully. His gaze locked onto the exact spot he intended to hit. As he brought the axe down, his body moved in perfect coordination. His core tightened to channel his strength, his shoulders and arms guided the motion, and his knees bent slightly to stabilize the force.


    The axe struck cleanly, splitting the wood in a single, precise motion. The two halves of the log fell neatly to either side of the block.


    Lucius straightened up and rested the axe over his shoulder. "I hope that made sense. You have to practice this over and over until you don¡¯t have to think about it anymore. It has to become instinct."


    Joey nodded, his eyes still on the split log. "Yeah, some things never change," he thought. "Practice, practice, practice. Whether it¡¯s in the modern world or the past, that¡¯s how you get good at anything."


    Lucius¡¯ question snapped Joey out of his thoughts. "Want to give it another shot?" he asked, tilting his head toward the chopping block.


    "Yeah, of course," Joey replied, a hint of determination in his voice.


    He picked up the smaller axe again, feeling its weight as he turned toward the chopping block. He grabbed a fresh piece of wood, placing it carefully on the center of the block. His movements were slower this time, more deliberate. Joey took a step back, exhaled deeply, and adjusted his grip on the axe handle, his mind replaying Lucius¡¯ instructions.


    "Feet shoulder-width apart," Joey murmured to himself, shifting his stance to feel more grounded. "One hand low, the other higher for control." He slid his hands into position on the handle, gripping it tightly but not too rigidly. He flexed his fingers slightly, trying to find the balance Lucius had demonstrated.


    "Focus on the spot. Pick the mark," he whispered, narrowing his gaze to the center of the log. His eyes traced an invisible line to the wood, as though imagining the blade already splitting it in two.


    Joey raised the axe, this time with steady control rather than brute force. The muscles in his shoulders and arms tensed, his core tightened to support the movement. "Use your whole body, not just your arms," he reminded himself, repeating Lucius¡¯ advice under his breath.


    For a moment, everything else faded...


    the sound of birds, the rustling of trees, even Lucius standing nearby. All Joey focused on was the wood and the path of the blade in his mind.


    With a deep inhale, Joey swung the axe down. His movements were slower than Lucius, but they carried intent and focus. The blade struck the wood with a solid thunk.


    "Good hit," Lucius called out encouragingly, a grin spreading across his face as he watched.


    Joey looked at the log. It wasn¡¯t split cleanly like Lucius¡¯ attempt, but the blade had sunk in, leaving a clear mark. The wood cracked slightly along the grain, a small but definite result.


    It wasn¡¯t perfect, not by a long shot. He hadn¡¯t even split it all the way through. But Joey didn¡¯t care. The feeling of the axe connecting with the wood, of seeing the mark he¡¯d left, filled him with satisfaction.


    He grinned to himself, savoring the small victory, even if it wasn¡¯t flawless.


    He straightened up, allowing himself a small smile.


    Lucius noticed and nodded approvingly. "Not bad for your first proper swing. You¡¯re getting it."


    Joey tightened his grip on the axe, the small success giving him confidence. "Alright," he thought. "Let¡¯s do this again."


    As Joey continued, he began to find a steady rhythm with each swing. He picked up another piece of wood, carefully set it on the chopping block, and adjusted his stance. He murmured Lucius instructions to himself as he worked, repeating them like a mantra. His hands gripped the axe more naturally now, the motions becoming smoother with each attempt.


    The second log took three strikes to split, the third four. Each time, the blade connected with the wood, sending satisfying cracks through the grain. The repetitive thud of the axe against the logs echoed in the clearing, a testament to his growing determination.


    Joey¡¯s focus sharpened with every swing. He started to anticipate the feel of the axe as it struck the wood, the slight vibration traveling up the handle to his hands. It was as if his body was beginning to understand what his mind was still learning. By the fifth log, he was no longer hesitating before each strike, and by the seventh, his movements felt almost automatic.


    Lucius, observing from a distance, noted Joey¡¯s steady improvement. The younger man was still rough around the edges, but there was a clear effort to apply everything he had been taught. Satisfied, Lucius nodded to himself and stepped away.


    "I¡¯m going hunting tomorrow," Lucius had said earlier, his voice carrying back to Joey as he headed toward the house. "If you¡¯re feeling well enough, you can come with me. But only if you think you¡¯re ready."


    Joey didn¡¯t respond immediately. His focus was on the next log, the next swing, the next chance to improve. The sound of Lucius¡¯ footsteps faded as he disappeared into the house, leaving Joey alone with his task.


    By the time Joey finished splitting the tenth log, he was drenched in sweat. His arms burned with exertion, and his hands ached from gripping the axe. But as he set the axe down and surveyed the neat pile of split wood in front of him, he couldn¡¯t help but smile. The pile wasn¡¯t huge, and his technique still needed work, but it was progress. Real, tangible progress.


    He took a moment to catch his breath, leaning on the axe handle as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. The warm spring air carried the scent of fresh-cut wood, mingling with the earthy aroma of the clearing. He felt a quiet satisfaction in knowing that he had contributed, however small the task might seem.


    Piece by piece, Joey began carrying the chopped wood into the house. Each trip was deliberate, the weight of the logs grounding him in the moment. Inside, he found the corner where Lucius stored the firewood, likely near the kitchen area. The stack there was neat and orderly, a reflection of Lucius¡¯ practicality.


    Joey carefully added his pieces to the pile, straightening them as he worked. The repetitive motion of lifting, carrying, and stacking gave him time to reflect on the day. His body was exhausted, his muscles sore, but there was a deep satisfaction in doing something useful.


    For the first time in what felt like forever, Joey felt like he had accomplished something real. It wasn¡¯t flashy or groundbreaking, but it was enough to remind him of what it meant to build something from the ground up, one piece at a time.

 Chapter 7: Wild Hunt

    Lucius double-checked the satchel slung over his shoulder and picked up a leather roll. He unfurled it carefully, revealing an array of knives. Each one was sharpened to precision, arranged for different purposes - skinning, cutting rope, or carving wood.


    He grabbed a small pouch filled with dried meat and bread. "Provisions are important. Even if we find something quickly, you¡¯ll need energy, especially if you¡¯re not used to walking long distances or waiting around," he said, his focus still on the equipment.


    Beside him was a small sack containing grains and herbs, intended as bait. Lucius picked it up and secured it to his belt. "Bait for small game, in case we need to lure something closer," he explained briefly. Nearby, a quiver full of arrows leaned against the wall, alongside his bow and a bundle of simple snares.


    Joey watched Lucius methodically gather each item, noting the quiet efficiency with which he worked. There was no wasted motion, no hesitation, as though every piece of equipment had its place and purpose.


    "Alright," Lucius said, standing up and adjusting the satchel. "Knife, provisions, bait... and the arrows... Ah, here they are," he muttered, grabbing the quiver and slinging it over his shoulder.


    "I¡¯m ready," Joey said with a grin, adjusting his own simpler pack. "And my leg doesn¡¯t hurt anymore."


    "Let me see," Lucius replied, gesturing for Joey to lift his pant leg. Joey complied, revealing the faint scar where the wound had been. Lucius crouched to inspect it closely.


    "Amazing," Lucius murmured. "The wound has almost completely healed. Sure, there¡¯s a scar, but that shouldn¡¯t bother a man."


    "Not at all. I¡¯m ready and excited," Joey replied, his grin widening.


    Lucius smirked, catching a bit of Joey¡¯s enthusiasm. "I can tell. This is your first hunt, isn¡¯t it?"


    "Yeah, I¡¯ve never been hunting before," Joey admitted.


    "Perfect," Lucius said with a chuckle. "That means I have the honor of leading the way for our rookie today."


    "At your service," Joey replied with a mock bow.


    Lucius grabbed his bow and slung it over his shoulder. "The plan is simple. First, we¡¯re going to find something for ourselves, enough to last a few days. If we bring back more than we need, we¡¯ll head to the market and sell the surplus. That¡¯s usually how I do it - hunt more than necessary, sell the extra, and use the money to buy materials or other things I can¡¯t make myself."


    Joey nodded eagerly. "Sounds good. Let¡¯s do it."


    Lucius chuckled as he headed for the door. "Stick close, listen to everything I tell you, and maybe, just maybe you¡¯ll learn something today."


    Joey and Lucius made their way into the forest, with Lucius leading the way deeper into the dense woods. The forest was alive, a mix of towering oaks and chestnuts, their thick trunks covered in moss. Sunlight filtered through the canopy above, creating shifting patches of light on the forest floor. The air was rich with the scent of damp earth and wild herbs, and the occasional chirp of a bird or rustle of leaves added a sense of vibrant energy to the scene. Vines climbed trees like green snakes, and wildflowers peeked out from between roots and fallen logs.


    The undergrowth was dense in places, with ferns brushing against their legs as they walked. Occasionally, Lucius pointed out markings on trees, faint claw marks or the shredded bark left by some animal rubbing its hide.


    Suddenly, Lucius stopped and dropped to his knees. He moved gracefully, his fingers brushing lightly against the ground as he studied it closely. "Do you see this?" he asked Joey, his voice calm but alert.


    Joey crouched down beside him, watching as Lucius traced a large impression in the soil with his hand. "These are tracks, tracks of a wild boar. And not just any boar... this is a beast. Today is our lucky day," Lucius said with a grin spreading across his face.


    "Look at the width of these marks here," Lucius continued, pointing to the deep, wide grooves in the dirt. "This tells us it¡¯s a massive boar. Its hooves are spaced far apart, meaning it¡¯s heavy, and this indentation here shows it was moving slowly, probably grazing." He stood up, brushing dirt off his hands.


    Joey stared at the tracks, trying to decipher what Lucius was seeing. To him, it was clearly an animal, but identifying the species or its size was far beyond his skill. "And now what? How do we track it?" he asked, looking to Lucius for guidance.


    "First, we follow its trail. We need to get close enough to see it before making a plan," Lucius explained. "The problem is, for a beast this size, a single arrow won¡¯t bring it down. We¡¯d need to take it on directly, but that would be far too dangerous for you. You don¡¯t have the combat experience for that," he added, eyeing Joey thoughtfully.


    "Then how are we supposed to do it?" Joey asked, frowning.


    "We¡¯ll think of something once we find it," Lucius replied, stroking his chin in thought. "There¡¯s no point in overplanning before we even know what we¡¯re dealing with."


    "Fair enough. Let¡¯s just track it down first," Joey said.


    "Agreed. No sense wasting time," Lucius replied, setting off again.


    The two continued their search, following the tracks deeper into the forest. They moved carefully, Lucius pointing out subtle signs, a broken twig here, a patch of disturbed leaves there - that kept them on the right path. As they walked, Lucius shared his knowledge about the forest, showing Joey various plants and fungi.


    "See these mushrooms?" Lucius said, gesturing to a cluster of small, white caps growing near the base of a tree. "You can eat these, but only if you¡¯re certain of their type. These ones, however," he pointed to another nearby patch with red-spotted caps, "will kill you within hours. Memorize the differences, or it¡¯ll be your last meal."


    Joey nodded intently, committing the shapes and colors to memory. Lucius also explained how to recognize edible herbs and which plants could be used for first aid in emergencies, even demonstrating how to crush certain leaves to create a simple poultice.


    After a while, Lucius stopped and wiped his forehead. The sun had risen higher, and its warmth was becoming more intense. "Let¡¯s take a break and gather some energy. The sun¡¯s high already, and I haven¡¯t eaten anything today," he said, glancing at Joey.


    Joey found a fallen tree to sit on, its roots jutting out like gnarled fingers. It must have toppled during a storm, leaving its massive trunk stretched across the forest floor. Lucius began gathering materials for a fire, pointing out dry twigs and leaves as he worked.


    "You need to find the driest materials you can for kindling," Lucius explained, holding up a handful of dried grass and small sticks. "Once you have that, look for slightly thicker branches to keep it going." He demonstrated how to arrange the materials into a small pyramid shape before striking flint against steel to create sparks. "The trick is patience. Don¡¯t rush it, and don¡¯t smother the flame as it grows."This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    Joey watched closely, noting each step. When the flame finally caught and began to grow, Lucius added larger branches until a steady fire crackled before them. "There we go," Lucius said with satisfaction.


    As the fire warmed the air around them, Joey reflected on what he had learned. Each step Lucius had demonstrated felt manageable, though not without effort. Joey could feel the information sticking in his mind, not perfectly clear but enough to give him confidence that he could replicate it if necessary.


    Lucius, noticing Joey¡¯s focus, smirked. "You¡¯re picking this up faster than most people. Makes teaching you a lot more enjoyable," he said.


    Joey smiled back, feeling a small sense of accomplishment. "I¡¯m just trying to keep up. You¡¯re making it look easy," he replied, leaning back slightly as the warmth of the fire took the edge off the morning chill.


    For a moment, the two sat in companionable silence, the sounds of the forest enveloping them. They still had a beast to track, but for now, they allowed themselves a brief break.


    After their brief rest, they packed up their supplies and extinguished the fire. Lucius ensured every ember was out before standing and nodding to Joey.


    "Let¡¯s move," Lucius said, his tone low but focused. "We should be close now."


    Suddenly, a deep, guttural bellow echoed through the forest, sending a shiver up Joey¡¯s spine. The sound was raw and feral, a rumbling "HRRROOOAAGHH" that reverberated off the trees.


    Both men froze, turning toward the direction of the sound. Lucius¡¯ eyes narrowed as he gestured for Joey to follow him. The path ahead wasn¡¯t flat anymore; the forest floor sloped upward, and the trail led to a steep rise covered in gnarled roots and loose soil.


    "We¡¯ll have to climb that," Lucius whispered, motioning to the incline. Joey nodded silently, gripping a nearby tree for balance as they began their ascent.


    As they crested the rise, the sight waiting for them stole Joey¡¯s breath.


    There it was: a colossal boar. The beast was unlike anything Joey had ever seen, its massive frame towering over any normal wild animal. Its thick, bristled hide was dark and scarred, with streaks of mud caked along its flanks. Curved tusks jutted out from its powerful jaws, gleaming like ivory blades, each as long as Joey¡¯s arm. The beast¡¯s eyes glowed with a feral intelligence, scanning its surroundings with a predator¡¯s awareness.


    Its sheer size was mind-boggling - easily larger than any animal Joey could recall from documentaries. The creature stood at least as tall as a car at the shoulders, its bulk casting a shadow over the clearing where it grazed on the forest floor. Every movement it made seemed to shake the ground, its hooves leaving deep impressions in the earth.


    "Holy... shit," Lucius muttered, a grin spreading across his face wider than Joey had ever seen. His whole demeanor shifted, adrenaline and excitement coursing through him like a surge of electricity. Joey noticed Lucius¡¯ hand trembling slightly as it hovered near his weapon.


    Joey¡¯s thoughts raced. "I don¡¯t remember boars ever being this big. That thing¡¯s larger than a polar bear... like the ones I used to watch in those nature documentaries," he thought, unable to tear his eyes away from the beast.


    Lucius turned to Joey, his grin still plastered on his face, stretching from ear to ear. His eyes sparkled with an almost wild energy.


    "So, Joey," Lucius said, his voice brimming with excitement, "what¡¯s the plan?"


    Joey¡¯s mind blanked for a moment. "Plan? What plan?" he thought nervously. "How about we quietly back away and pray it didn¡¯t notice us?"


    Joey hesitated before saying, "I was thinking... maybe we could set a trap? Something to make it fall into a pit. But there¡¯s no way we can dig fast enough without it noticing or worse, charging straight at us."


    Lucius chuckled, his grin never faltering. "You¡¯re not wrong. But we¡¯ll need to act fast. That thing won¡¯t stick around forever, and if it gets wind of us, it¡¯s going to be one hell of a fight."


    Joey swallowed hard, glancing back at the massive creature, its tusks glinting in the rising sunlight. Whatever they did, they¡¯d need to do it soon and it wouldn¡¯t be easy.


    After a few brief moments of silence, Lucius spoke, "I have a plan. Follow me."


    His earlier excitement and anticipation seemed to vanish, replaced by a state of hyperfocus. Lucius moved with precision, each step calculated and deliberate. Joey noticed the change immediately. Despite the forest floor being littered with twigs and dry leaves, Lucius'' movements were nearly silent, as if he were a shadow gliding through the underbrush.


    "You still have the axe?" Lucius asked, his voice low but unwavering, his gaze locked on the massive boar ahead.


    "Yeah," Joey replied, gripping the handle tightly.


    "Good. Then don¡¯t let it go," Lucius said, his tone sharp and commanding. He didn¡¯t look at Joey as he spoke, his entire focus fixed on the beast.


    Lucius steadied his bow, his fingers tightening around the string as he took a deep breath. The massive wild boar stood before them, snorting aggressively, its monstrous frame shifting with each breath. Its coarse bristles glistened with sweat, and its tusks, as thick as a grown man¡¯s arm, curved menacingly. Joey watched in awe and terror, clutching the axe Lucius had given him earlier.


    "Hold still," Lucius muttered, his tone calm but focused. He exhaled slowly, releasing the arrow.


    The arrow flew straight and true, its tip striking the boar directly on its thick skull with a sickening thud. The beast let out a deafening roar, stumbling back as blood began to trickle from the wound. The arrow hadn¡¯t penetrated deeply enough to kill, but it had created a weak spot. The boar¡¯s enraged squeals echoed through the forest, and it swung its massive head from side to side, its tusks carving deep gouges into the dirt.


    "Good shot!" Joey called out, his voice shaking as adrenaline coursed through him.


    Lucius didn¡¯t respond. His eyes scanned the area, calculating their next move. "The arrow wasn¡¯t enough," he said, his voice laced with tension. "We need to finish it before it charges again."


    As if on cue, the boar turned its attention toward them, its red eyes blazing with fury. Lucius grabbed Joey¡¯s arm and pulled him back. "Quick, over here," he said, gesturing toward a nearby tree where they had set up a rudimentary trap - a pit concealed with leaves and branches.


    The plan was simple. They would lure the boar into the trap, where its massive weight would cause it to fall through. But as Lucius waved his arms and shouted to grab the beast¡¯s attention, it did the unexpected. It turned, its focus locking onto Joey instead.


    Joey¡¯s heart dropped as the boar charged, its tusks aimed directly at him. Time seemed to slow. He tried to move, but his body felt frozen, rooted to the spot as the monstrous creature barreled toward him.


    "Joey!" Lucius shouted, throwing himself in front of the boar at the last second. The beast¡¯s tusks grazed Joey¡¯s side, but Lucius took the full brunt of the attack. He was thrown to the ground, grappling with the beast as its enormous weight pressed down on him.


    The scene was chaos. Lucius struggled beneath the boar, his arms straining to keep its tusks away from his chest. Blood from the wound on its head dripped down onto him, mixing with the dirt and sweat that already covered his face. "Run!" Lucius yelled, his voice strained as the boar¡¯s raw strength overwhelmed him.


    But Joey didn¡¯t run. Something inside him snapped into place. His fear dissolved, replaced by an intense clarity. His eyes darted to the axe lying a few feet away, and without thinking, he grabbed it. He sprinted toward the fray, his grip tightening on the handle as he climbed onto the boar¡¯s back.


    The beast thrashed violently, but Joey held firm, his heart pounding as he raised the axe above his head. For a moment, everything seemed to blur - everything except for a faint shimmer. It was as if the sunlight filtering through the trees had caught the bloodied spot where the arrow had struck the boar¡¯s skull. The shimmer was faint, almost imperceptible, but it drew Joey¡¯s attention like a beacon.


    "That¡¯s it!" he thought, the words echoing in his mind without him realizing.


    He didn¡¯t question it. With every ounce of strength he had, Joey swung the axe down, aiming for the shimmering spot. The blade connected with a sickening crack, burying itself deep into the boar¡¯s skull. The beast let out a final, agonized squeal before collapsing onto the ground, its massive body shuddering once before falling still.


    Joey stumbled back, panting heavily as he stared at the lifeless creature before him. Blood pooled around its head, soaking into the earth. His hands trembled as he released the axe, letting it fall to the ground.


    Lucius groaned, pulling himself out from under the boar¡¯s body. He was battered and bloodied, but alive. "You¡­ you did it," he said, his voice weak but filled with relief.


    Joey nodded, still trying to process what had just happened. He looked at the shimmering spot where the axe had struck, now obscured by blood and fur. For a brief moment, he wondered if it had even been real.


    "Nice hit," Lucius said, clapping Joey on the shoulder before wincing in pain. "But let¡¯s never do that again."


    Joey laughed nervously, the tension easing just enough to let him respond. "Deal," he said, though a faint memory of the shimmer lingered at the edge of his thoughts, distant but not entirely forgotten.

 Chapter 8: A Fragile Balance

    Lucius collapsed suddenly.


    Joey instinctively reached out to catch him but couldn¡¯t fully support his weight. He managed to soften the fall, but Lucius still hit the ground hard.


    "Lucius! Lucius!" Joey called out, his voice rising in panic. There was no response. Blood seeped heavily from the wound, now fully reopened, pooling around the area as Joey¡¯s heart raced.


    He hurriedly pulled back the torn fabric covering the injury and froze, horrified by what he saw.


    The wound was deep, a vicious tear stretching from Lucius side to just above his hip, as though the massive tusk had sliced through layers of muscle like paper. The edges were jagged, raw, and oozing blood at an alarming rate. Joey could see the faint outline of bone near the edge of the gash, making it painfully clear just how severe the injury was. The dark red blood glistened in the dim forest light, the sheer volume of it making his stomach churn.


    "Shit, shit, shit," Joey muttered under his breath, his voice trembling. His hands shook as he scrambled to think. Panic clawed at his mind, but somewhere deep down, fragments of what he had seen and heard over the years began surfacing. His hands instinctively moved toward Lucius pack.


    Joey knew he wasn¡¯t an expert, but growing up, he had picked up bits and pieces of knowledge about treating wounds. His mother, though often away for work, had occasionally shared stories of emergencies and basic medical knowledge. These snippets of information, combined with an unusual knack for retaining practical advice, began piecing themselves together in his mind. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was enough to give him a direction. He remembered how to clean a wound, stop bleeding, and secure a bandage, all the essential steps that, in a moment like this, could mean life or death.


    Rummaging through Lucius pack, Joey¡¯s hand closed around a roll of bandages. Nearby, he found a small flask. Unscrewing the cap, he sniffed the contents. The sharp scent of alcohol hit his nose. It wasn¡¯t much, but it would have to do.


    "Okay, okay, stay calm," Joey muttered to himself, his voice unsteady as he tried to keep his hands from shaking. He tore a strip of cloth from Lucius sleeve and soaked it in the alcohol. Carefully, he pressed it against the wound.


    Lucius body jerked slightly at the contact, but he remained unconscious. Joey grit his teeth, knowing the alcohol would sting horribly if Lucius were awake. He wiped away as much blood as he could, trying to clean the wound before infection set in.


    "This is bad... this is really bad," Joey murmured, glancing back at Lucius pale face. The blood loss was significant, and he wasn¡¯t sure how much time he had to stop it.


    Once the wound was as clean as he could manage, Joey began wrapping the bandages tightly around Lucius torso. He used as much pressure as he could without restricting his breathing. The blood continued to seep through the fabric, but at least it was slowing.


    Joey¡¯s movements were clumsy and far from perfect, but they were effective enough to stabilize Lucius for the moment. He secured the bandages with a knot and pressed his hand gently against them, applying extra pressure.


    The forest around them was eerily quiet, the distant sounds of birds and rustling leaves fading into the background as Joey focused entirely on keeping Lucius alive. His mind raced, but he fought to keep his thoughts clear.


    Looking down at Lucius, Joey felt a mix of fear and determination. He couldn¡¯t let this be the end.


    "I¡¯m not letting you die here," Joey said firmly, though the tremble in his voice betrayed his fear. His hands pressed firmly against the bandages as his mind churned, searching for what to do next. He needed help. But first, he had to keep Lucius stable long enough to find it.


    Joey scanned the area around him, his breathing steadying as his adrenaline sharpened his senses. He spotted long, sturdy branches nearby and an idea began forming. His mind flashed back to survival guides he¡¯d watched as a teen and the quick makeshift fixes he¡¯d seen in countless movies. It wasn¡¯t ideal, but it would have to do.


    Joey grabbed a thick branch and snapped it into manageable lengths with difficulty, his muscles straining against the unrelenting wood. He scoured the ground for vines and roots that could serve as bindings, his fingers working feverishly. Sweat dripped down his face as he wove the materials together, constructing a crude stretcher. Every second felt like a lifetime as he worked.


    Lucius breathing was shallow, his face pale and strained. Joey knelt back down to tighten the bandages, and for a fleeting moment, he thought he saw a faint shimmer on the edges of the wound. His breath hitched as the glimmer drew his attention, subtly guiding him to press more firmly in specific areas.


    "What the hell was that?" Joey whispered, but he shook his head, forcing the thought aside. Whatever it was, it seemed to help.


    With the stretcher ready, Joey grunted as he heaved Lucius onto it, his body protesting every motion. The makeshift stretcher creaked under Lucius weight, but it held. Joey tied him down carefully, making sure he wouldn¡¯t slip off as he began the long, grueling trek through the forest.


    "I don¡¯t know how, but I¡¯m getting you out of here," Joey muttered, his resolve hardening as he gripped the stretcher handles and started to drag Lucius toward safety.


    After taking some sips of the Water they brought with them, Joey looked down at Lucius. His chest rising and falling in shallow but steady breaths. The temporary bandages had held up, and though the situation was grim, it hadn¡¯t worsened. Joey knew he couldn¡¯t wait any longer to deal with the massive boar they had killed earlier.


    Joey stepped cautiously toward the massive carcass, his breath hitching slightly as he fully took in its size. The beast lay sprawled across the forest floor like a fallen giant, its sheer enormity still difficult to grasp even after he had witnessed it in motion. Its tusks jutted out at alarming angles, stained faintly with traces of blood and dirt, and its hide was a fortress of thick, bristled fur and coarse skin. The coppery tang of blood mingled with the earthy scent of the forest, creating a pungent aroma that made Joey¡¯s stomach churn.


    He tightened his grip on the knife Lucius had brought along for the hunt. It was sturdy and sharp but felt pitifully inadequate against the mountain of flesh before him. "Alright, Joey," he muttered to himself, steeling his nerves. "Time to figure this out."


    Crouching beside the boar, Joey surveyed its body. The dense, bristly fur gleamed dully in the waning sunlight, making it hard to discern where to start. His fingers brushed the rough surface of its hide, and he grimaced at its toughness. He decided to start with what seemed manageable. The softer underbelly. Sliding the blade in cautiously, he began to cut, his hands shaking slightly from both adrenaline and inexperience.


    The first incision was awkward, the blade slipping against the fatty layer beneath the skin. He winced as a gush of blood seeped out, pooling around his knees as he worked. Joey gritted his teeth, pushing aside his discomfort. His cuts were clumsy and shallow at first, but determination drove him forward. He soon found a rhythm, though far from graceful. The knife slid through the fatty flesh, each stroke accompanied by a wet, tearing sound that made him cringe.


    Joey had no formal training, just a rough idea from years of watching cooking shows and documentaries. His inexperience was evident. Large chunks of meat were mangled by imprecise cuts, and he accidentally left strips of valuable flesh hanging on the bones. He cursed under his breath as he realized how much he was wasting, but there was no turning back. "At least I¡¯m getting something," he murmured, trying to reassure himself.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    The hide proved to be an even greater challenge. Joey turned his attention to it after he had collected as much meat as he could carry. He gripped the edge of the thick pelt and tried to slice beneath it, but the coarse fur and tough skin resisted him at every turn. His hands slipped several times, earning him shallow nicks on his fingers as he wrestled with the beast. Every stroke of the knife felt like a battle, and his frustration grew with each jagged tear he left in the pelt.


    Sweat dripped from his brow, mingling with the blood on his hands and staining the cuffs of his sleeves. Despite his clumsiness, he managed to salvage a decent portion of the hide, though it was riddled with uneven edges and torn patches. Much of it was ruined by his inexperience, but the sheer size of the beast ensured there was still plenty to work with.


    Joey stepped back to assess his work, his chest heaving with exertion. The salvaged meat, rich with fat, was piled on a large piece of hide he had spread out on the ground. It wasn¡¯t perfect, but it was enough to sustain him and Lucius for days, maybe even weeks, if stored properly. The pelt pieces were less impressive, a patchwork of usable sections surrounded by shredded scraps, but Joey hoped they would still have some value.


    "Could¡¯ve done better," he muttered, wiping his hands on his pants and glancing at the remains of the boar. There was so much left behind, more meat, more hide, more everything. The thought of leaving so much behind gnawed at him, but he had no choice. Lucius survival came first.


    Joey bundled the meat and hide as best as he could, securing them with strips of the pelt he had cut. The bundle was heavy, almost unbearably so, but he gritted his teeth and hoisted it over his shoulder. His arms burned from the effort, but he forced himself to keep moving. The day was fading fast, and he couldn¡¯t afford to waste any more time.


    He gave the carcass one last glance before turning away, the weight of the bundle pressing against his back as he trudged toward the makeshift stretcher where Lucius lay. "Sorry, big guy," Joey murmured to the fallen beast, his voice tinged with regret. "Wish I could¡¯ve made better use of you."


    Joey bent down to check on Lucius, his eyes scanning the tightly wrapped bandages. The bleeding had stopped, but Lucius pale face reminded Joey of how precarious their situation was. "Hang in there," he whispered, adjusting the stretcher straps around his shoulders. With one last glance at the forest ahead, Joey set off, dragging the stretcher behind him, his mind racing with thoughts of survival.


    The forest floor was unforgiving. The thick underbrush tangled around Joey¡¯s legs, and exposed roots turned every step into a challenge. The stretcher bumped and jostled despite Joey¡¯s careful efforts, and he winced every time Lucius body shifted. His arms burned from the effort of dragging the stretcher over uneven terrain, and his back ached from the strain of pulling such a heavy load.


    Joey¡¯s breath came in labored gasps as he navigated a particularly dense patch of foliage. He had to stop frequently, his muscles trembling with exhaustion. Each pause was filled with the unsettling sound of the Forest. rustling leaves, distant bird calls, and the occasional crack of a branch somewhere in the shadows.


    "Come on, Joey," he muttered to himself. "One step at a time. Just keep moving."


    The sun sank lower in the sky, casting long shadows that stretched across the forest floor. As the light faded, the air grew cooler, and Joey¡¯s worry deepened. Traveling in the dark was dangerous, but stopping too soon meant prolonging Lucius suffering. He had to find a balance.


    When the light finally dwindled to the faint glow of twilight, Joey decided he couldn¡¯t push any further. The forest around him was cloaked in deepening shadows, the towering trees casting long, jagged shapes across the uneven ground. Every step had become a Herculean effort, his body screaming for rest as the stretcher¡¯s weight dragged at his shoulders and back. He found a small clearing, its soft bed of moss and sparse undergrowth providing a flat enough surface to set Lucius down. Gritting his teeth, he lowered the stretcher as carefully as his trembling arms would allow, his knees buckling slightly as he let go.


    Joey stood over Lucius, panting heavily, his hands braced on his thighs. His muscles burned with the day¡¯s exertion, and every breath felt like it might be his last. But the sight of Lucius lying motionless on the stretcher spurred him to action. Rest could wait.


    "First things first," Joey muttered under his breath. He crouched beside Lucius, his fingers working with a gentleness born of desperation. The bandages were soaked through, dark with dried blood, but the bleeding had slowed. The tightly wrapped fabric seemed to have done its job for now. Joey pressed his hand lightly against Lucius chest, feeling the faint rise and fall as he breathed. It was shallow and uneven, but it was enough to bring a flicker of relief to Joey¡¯s face.


    "You¡¯re hanging in there," he whispered softly, more to himself than to Lucius. The faint sound of his own voice in the quiet clearing felt oddly reassuring.


    Joey straightened up, his eyes scanning the darkened forest for anything useful. He needed a fire, shelter, and food. He decided that the fire came first. The air was already growing colder, and without warmth, neither of them would last the night. Remembering Lucius earlier lessons, Joey moved methodically. He gathered dry branches, brittle leaves, and small sticks, careful to avoid anything damp or rotten. The sharp smell of decaying wood filled his nostrils as he worked, his hands scraping against bark and dirt.


    With his gathered materials in hand, Joey returned to the clearing and knelt down. He dug a shallow pit in the soft earth, his fingers working quickly to arrange the stones he had collected in a rough circle around the edge. The effort was clumsy but functional, his movements guided more by instinct and fragmented memory than skill. Joey arranged the kindling in a pyramid shape at the center, layering the driest leaves and smallest twigs at the base.


    From Lucius pack, he retrieved the flint and steel. His fingers fumbled with the tools, his inexperience showing as the first few strikes yielded nothing but faint sparks. Frustration bubbled up in his chest, but he forced himself to stay calm, his breaths coming slow and measured. On the fourth strike, a spark landed on the leaves, and a faint curl of smoke rose. Joey leaned in, cupping his hands around the tiny ember and blowing gently. The flame flickered to life, growing stronger with each careful breath.


    As the fire crackled and spread warmth through the clearing, Joey sat back on his heels, letting out a long sigh. The soft orange glow felt like a barrier against the vast, consuming darkness of the forest. For the first time since Lucius had collapsed, Joey felt a sliver of hope.


    Next, Joey turned his attention to shelter. The night would only get colder, and they couldn¡¯t stay exposed. He scoured the area for sturdy branches, snapping them to size when necessary and carrying them back to the clearing. His pile grew steadily as he worked, each branch and stick chosen for its strength and size. Using strips of the boar¡¯s hide as makeshift cordage, Joey lashed the branches together into a rough frame. The process was slow, his hands clumsy with exhaustion, but he pushed through, his focus sharpening with each completed section.


    When the frame was ready, Joey draped the largest piece of the boar¡¯s pelt over it. The hide was heavy and unwieldy, but its thickness would provide much-needed insulation against the chill. He secured it in place with more strips of hide, tying them tightly around the frame. Stepping back, Joey surveyed his work. The structure was crude and uneven, more of a lean-to than a proper tent, but it was stable enough to stay upright and would shield them from the wind.


    Joey wasn¡¯t done yet. He gathered the remaining pieces of the boar¡¯s hide and spread them on the ground beneath the shelter, creating a rough but serviceable bedding area. The pelt was still stiff and damp in places, but it would be better than lying directly on the cold ground. He placed Lucius carefully onto the makeshift bed, his movements slow and deliberate to avoid jostling him.


    "That¡¯ll have to do," Joey muttered, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. His voice was thick with exhaustion, but there was a faint edge of pride in his tone. The shelter wasn¡¯t much to look at, but it was functional, and for now, that was all that mattered.


    With the fire crackling steadily and the shelter in place, Joey turned his attention to food. From the pack, he retrieved the provisions Lucius had brought along. Some few dried meats, hard bread, and a small pouch of herbs. Joey added some of the freshly salvaged boar meat to the mix, slicing it into thin, uneven strips with the knife. He worked quickly, his hands moving with a confidence born from years of cooking for himself.


    He found a small metal pot in Lucius supplies and filled it with water from the flask. Setting it over the fire, he added the meat, bread, and herbs, stirring them together into a rudimentary stew. The aroma of the simmering broth filled the air, a comforting reminder of simpler times.


    While the stew cooked, Joey busied himself with small tasks around the camp. He checked the knots securing the shelter, repositioned the firewood to keep it within easy reach, and hung smaller strips of the boar¡¯s pelt near the fire to dry. Each movement was deliberate, his focus unwavering despite his aching limbs.


    When the stew was ready, Joey let it cool slightly before scooping a small portion into a cup. He knelt beside Lucius, carefully supporting his head as he fed him small spoonfuls. The broth was thin and bland, but it was warm and nourishing. Between sips of water and bites of stew, Lucius color seemed to improve ever so slightly.


    Joey sat back, his own bowl of stew cradled in his hands. The firelight danced across the clearing, casting long shadows on the trees. Despite the dire situation, there was a strange sense of peace in the moment. Joey allowed himself a brief smile, the warmth of the fire and the sound of Lucius faint breathing grounding him in the here and now.

 Chapter 9: A New Day

    With Lucius fed and resting again, Joey finally allowed himself a moment to breathe. He sat close to the fire, legs crossed and shoulders slumped, the simple bowl of soup cradled carefully in his hands. The warmth from the steaming broth seeped through his fingers, soothing the stiffness in his aching joints. For a moment, he stared into the flickering flames, watching them dance and twist as if they were alive. The fire crackled softly, its gentle sound filling the stillness of the clearing, a quiet contrast to the chaos that had filled his day.


    The events of the last few hours surged through Joey¡¯s mind in a disjointed blur, each memory clashing against the next. The monstrous boar¡¯s charge, Lucius standing firm, the sickening sight of his collapse, and the brutal struggle to pull him through the dense forest. Joey could almost hear the thud of the tusk connecting, the wet tear of flesh splitting open, and Lucius¡¯ body hitting the ground with a sound that still made his stomach turn.


    His gaze drifted to Lucius, who lay still under the crude shelter Joey had pieced together earlier. The firelight cast long, uneven shadows across Lucius¡¯ face, emphasizing the pallor of his skin and the weariness etched into his features. His chest rose and fell in shallow but steady breaths, the rhythmic motion oddly reassuring. Despite the layers of hide and makeshift bedding, he looked so fragile, as though a strong wind might carry him away.


    "We¡¯ll make it through this," Joey said quietly, his voice breaking the silence like a ripple across still water. The words were firm, but they sounded as much like a plea to himself as they did a promise to Lucius.


    Joey lifted the spoon to his mouth, the thin soup lukewarm now but still nourishing. He swallowed slowly, savoring the faint flavors of the herbs and the richness of the boar meat. It wasn¡¯t a feast, but it was enough to quell the sharp gnaw of hunger that had been clawing at him all day. As he ate, he leaned back against the rough bark of a nearby tree, the grooves pressing uncomfortably into his back, grounding him in the moment.


    He tilted his head upward and let his eyes wander across the treetops. The sky above was a dark canvas pierced with faint glimmers of starlight, and the forest stretched endlessly in every direction. The air had turned cool, carrying with it the earthy scent of damp leaves and the lingering aroma of smoke. The wind whispered through the branches, making the leaves shiver and sway like silent spectators to Joey¡¯s struggles.


    A deep fatigue settled over him, an exhaustion that went beyond his aching body and settled into his very bones. His arms throbbed from dragging Lucius, his legs burned from stumbling over uneven terrain, and his hands still bore faint smears of blood that he hadn¡¯t been able to fully clean off. He flexed his fingers absently, wincing as the stiff, overworked muscles protested.


    But even as the weight of it all threatened to crush him, Joey felt something else¡ªsomething small but unshakable. Determination. It sparked faintly in his chest, like the embers in the fire before him. No matter how uncertain the road ahead seemed, no matter how much further they had to go, Joey couldn¡¯t allow himself to give up. He had gotten Lucius this far. He had stopped the bleeding, built the fire, and carved out a place for them to rest, even if it was temporary. If he could do that, then he could keep going.


    Joey¡¯s gaze flickered back to Lucius. He remembered how strong Lucius had been earlier, standing so confidently in front of that monstrous beast. The memory of Lucius¡¯ laughter, so carefree even in the face of Joey¡¯s failure with the axe, brought an unexpected pang of emotion to Joey¡¯s chest. Lucius had been unshakable, a pillar of strength, and now it was Joey¡¯s turn to carry them both forward.


    ¡°You¡¯d better wake up soon,¡± Joey murmured softly, his lips curling into a faint smile despite his exhaustion. ¡°I¡¯m not exactly great at this whole survival thing on my own.¡± The words were meant as a joke, but they hung in the air, fragile and honest. Joey let out a shaky breath, rubbing his hands together near the fire for warmth.


    He turned his attention back to the soup, finishing the last few spoonfuls before setting the empty bowl aside. The fire crackled on, its heat pushing back the night¡¯s chill, creating a small oasis of light in the overwhelming darkness. Joey shifted slightly to get more comfortable, his muscles protesting every move. Despite the tiredness that pulled at him, he couldn¡¯t bring himself to close his eyes just yet.


    His thoughts wandered as he sat there, staring into the flames. He thought about the boar, about the monstrous size of it and the way Lucius had fought without hesitation. He thought about the blood, the panic he had felt, and the way his mind had suddenly gone blank before everything had clicked into place.


    Joey frowned slightly, remembering the faint shimmer he had seen while tending to Lucius earlier. It had been so quick, almost imperceptible, but it had felt¡­ important. Like a trick of the light that shouldn¡¯t have been there. The memory lingered at the edge of his mind, a puzzle piece he couldn¡¯t quite fit into place.


    Shaking his head, Joey pulled the hide blanket over his shoulders and leaned back against the tree again. His gaze turned toward the shelter, where Lucius lay motionless but alive. That was all that mattered right now. Tomorrow, they would figure out the next step. Tomorrow, they would find a way out of this forest, or at least try.


    For now, Joey let himself bask in the quiet comfort of the fire and the stillness of the forest. The wind whispered gently through the leaves, carrying the faint promise of a new day. And though the path ahead was uncertain, Joey knew that as long as Lucius was breathing, as long as he himself could stand, they would keep moving forward.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Joey whispered to himself, letting his heavy eyelids fall shut for just a moment. ¡°We¡¯ll make it through this.¡±


    The fire crackled on, its soft glow standing guard over the clearing as the forest beyond sank deeper into shadow.


    Joey drifted off to sleep, the exhaustion of the day finally overwhelming him. When his eyes opened again, he found himself back in the **Void**. The emptiness stretched endlessly in all directions. It was again a place without form, without light, without sound. Only Joey existed in the silence, standing in the middle of nothingness.


    "Here again," Joey muttered to himself, his tone calmer than the first or second time he had awakened in this strange place. There was no panic this time, no desperate search for answers or escape. The absence of the shadowy figure from his first visit felt almost expected now. "But that other person, or whatever it was, still isn¡¯t here," he thought, his voice a mere whisper in the emptiness.


    Suddenly, without warning, the interface blinked into existence before him, its faint glow illuminating the darkness like a distant beacon.


    Joey Weave


    Age: 20


    Path: Wanderer


    Unique Thread: "Knowledge Beyond Time"Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    Attributes:


    Perception: Awakened > Heightened


    Adaptation: In Progress > Accelerating


    Physical Resilience: Enhanced > Hardened


    Connections:


    The Hunter (Lucius): Friendly > Bonded


    The Unknown (Void): Undefined


    For all its strange familiarity, the glowing text and shimmering numbers made little sense to him. These updates, the "attributes," the "connections" - none of it was clear. What did Heightened Perception even mean in real terms? Why was everything so vague?


    His frustration bubbled to the surface. "Why is this so damn unorganized?" he muttered aloud. How am I supposed to understand any of this? What the hell is the scaling here anyway?


    As if responding to his confusion, the air around him trembled. The Void rippled like a stone had been tossed into the endless black. Joey stumbled back slightly, his heart pounding as the glow of the interface flickered back into existence before him - brighter and sharper than before.


    This time, new text began to form, scrolling across the dark expanse like it was being written for him in real time. The letters shimmered with an ethereal clarity, the glow more focused and precise.


    Joey Weave


    Age: 20


    Path: Wanderer


    Unique Thread: "Knowledge Beyond Time"


    Power Scaling:


    Foundation > Awakening


    Attributes:


    - Perception: Basic > Advanced


    - Adaptation: Developing > Improving


    - Physical Resilience: Steady > Tough


    Connections:


    - The Hunter (Lucius): Friendly > Bonded


    - The Unknown (Void): Undefined


    ¡°Perception, Adaptation, Resilience...¡± Joey muttered as he read each line carefully, his eyes narrowing in thought. It wasn¡¯t lost on him that these were areas he had struggled with the past few days. Perception? That could mean noticing things faster or being more aware, like when he spotted Lucius¡¯ wound earlier. Adaptation? Maybe it had something to do with how quickly he was adjusting to all of this fighting, surviving and thinking. And Resilience... well, the ache in his arms and legs told him that he¡¯d certainly been pushing himself harder than ever before.


    Then his gaze landed on the word Connections. "Bonded" it now said beside Lucius name. Joey paused, the word stirring something deeper within him.


    Bonded


    It wasn¡¯t a simple descriptor like friendly or acquaintance, tt carried weight, a sense of permanence that struck Joey harder than he expected.


    This wasn¡¯t just about companionship or mutual trust. It was something closer to family¡ªunspoken but undeniable. Like a thread pulling them together, forged through shared struggle and moments where life itself hung in the balance. Lucius wasn¡¯t just a guide or a temporary ally. Despite the short time they had known each other, Joey felt the roots of something stronger forming, a bond that mirrored the kind of loyalty and understanding you¡¯d only expect between brothers.


    Joey couldn¡¯t fully explain it, but in that moment, he knew it felt right. Bonded wasn¡¯t just a word, it was a promise, and one he had every intention of keeping.


    ¡°This is... progress, I guess,¡± he murmured. A flicker of determination stirred in his chest, even amidst the lingering confusion. "But if this is progress, what¡¯s next? And what does it mean for me?¡±


    No answer came. The Void remained as silent as ever.


    Joey sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the familiar pull of frustration creeping in again. He opened his mouth to voice another question, but before he could, a new ripple tore through the Void.


    The interface shimmered once more, and additional text began to form, almost as if in response to his lingering doubts. Joey watched in stunned silence as the Void seemed to whisper answers back to him:


    System Scaling Explained


    - Foundation: The starting point. The body, mind, and abilities are at their natural baseline. Basic survival.


    - Awakening: The point of realization and adaptation. Capabilities begin to grow and evolve.


    - Refined: Skills sharpen, becoming deliberate and effective. The individual has a clear understanding of their abilities.


    - Honed: Mastery of skills and attributes. Precision, strength, and clarity are nearly unmatched.


    - Synchronized: A seamless merging of body, mind, and ability. Actions are instinctive, and limits are redefined.


    Joey stared at the text, his breath caught in his throat. Each word seemed to burn itself into his memory, filling in gaps he didn¡¯t even know he had. Power Scaling: Foundation > Awakening


    Foundation


    Awakening


    Refined


    Honed


    Synchronized


    "Awakening," Joey repeated to himself, the word lingering on his tongue. It wasn¡¯t just a concept, it felt like a doorway he had only begun to step through. If this was just the second step, then what would it mean to reach "Refined" or even "Honed"? And what kind of person would he have to become to reach "Synchronized"?


    ¡°So... this is the system?¡± Joey murmured, his voice hushed as if afraid the Void itself might respond. ¡°And I¡¯m only at... Awakening?¡± His gaze drifted back to the glowing interface, the attributes now staring back at him like silent promises.


    In the silence of the Void, Joey felt himself begin to drift, the darkness folding around him like a blanket as sleep pulled him back into the world he had left behind.


    Joey woke up to the soft glow of daylight filtering through the trees. The warmth of the rising sun kissed his face, and for a moment, he forgot where he was. But the sight before him brought everything back. The campfire from the night before had burned out completely, leaving only a bed of ash and faint embers. The air was cool and still, and the world around him was eerily quiet, as though the forest itself was waiting.


    "Good morning..."


    The voice was faint, hoarse, but unmistakable.


    Joey¡¯s head snapped toward the sound, his heart leaping in his chest. Lucius. He was awake. His voice was weak, and his face pale, but his eyes were open. Alive. Relief surged through Joey, so sudden and overwhelming that his knees nearly gave out.


    ¡°Good morning...¡± Joey breathed back, a tired smile breaking across his face. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was enough.


    Lucius lay on the bedding Joey had fashioned, his movements sluggish as he shifted slightly and winced from the strain. Despite the pain etched into his features, the faint trace of a smirk appeared.


    ¡°I see... you didn¡¯t let me die after all¡± Lucius muttered, his words slow and broken, but laced with quiet gratitude.


    Joey let out a shaky laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°I still owed you one¡± he said, his voice trembling under the weight of everything he¡¯d endured.


    Lucius tried to chuckle but coughed instead, a harsh, painful sound that made Joey flinch. Quickly, Joey grabbed the water flask and knelt beside him. ¡°Here, drink this. Slowly¡± he said, gently lifting Lucius head and helping him sip.


    Lucius drank in small, careful sips, the cool water soothing his throat. After a moment, he leaned back into the bedding, his breathing settling slightly. ¡°Not bad... for someone who doesn¡¯t know what the hell they¡¯re doing¡± Lucius teased, his voice faint but familiar.


    Joey grinned, the tension in his shoulders easing a little. ¡°Didn¡¯t exactly have a choice. You¡¯re too stubborn to just die.¡±


    Lucius glanced at him, and for a brief moment, something unspoken passed between them, an understanding forged in shared struggle. Words weren¡¯t needed; they both knew the weight of what they had survived.


    ¡°We really killed that Bastard, you¡¯re stronger than you look, kid¡± Lucius said softly, closing his eyes as exhaustion pulled him back into rest.


    ¡°Kid? You¡¯re, like, three years older than me¡± Joey shot back, raising an eyebrow.


    Lucius smirked faintly, his eyes still closed. ¡°Maybe. But you look way younger¡±


    ¡°Fair...¡± Joey muttered, shaking his head with a small grin.


    He sat back on his heels, exhaling deeply as he studied Lucius¡¯ bandaged side. The bleeding had stopped for now, but Joey knew it wouldn¡¯t hold forever. Lucius was alive, yes, but far from out of danger. They couldn¡¯t stay here much longer.


    Joey glanced around the camp. The fire had died, their supplies were running low, and the forest, once a refuge, now felt more hostile with every passing minute. He needed to plan, to figure out how to get them both out of here alive. But for now, Lucius was breathing, and that was enough of a victory.


    ¡°Rest up¡± Joey murmured, his voice steady as he stood and stretched his stiff limbs. ¡°I¡¯ll take care of the rest.¡±


    He set to work tidying up the camp, gathering their remaining supplies, and checking the state of their water. His mind, however, was racing, flashing back to the fight with the beast, Lucius collapsing, the trek through the forest, and that strange dream again...


    Everything seemed to be pulling him toward something bigger, something he wasn¡¯t ready to understand yet. But that didn¡¯t matter right now.


    Joey had work to do. He had a friend who needed him.


    And he wasn¡¯t about to let him down.