*Crack*
The child startled awake from a nearby sound. The crisp sound of a branch snapping in half close to her cave could be clearly heard in the area, with only birds chirping interrupting the tension. She slowly and cautiously got up and pushed her head out of the cave entrance. She looked left and right, but couldn't see anything that might have caused the noise.
She slowly got out of the cave and searched her surroundings. Hmmm, maybe it was just a bird taking off? she thought as she walked around the gnarled tree to see if that something was on the other side of the tree. But the moment she did, she heard something directly behind her -
*Grrrrrr...*
A low and deep growl, sounding like a maddened tiger resounded through the forest. Her heart jumped as she turned around, so fast she almost slipped, but she barely caught herself. Standing at the cave entrance was a fierce looking beast, roughly as large as a siberian tiger from her previous life. Its fur was midnight black with silver streaks, and yellow eyes that seemed to glow in the dim light. Saliva dripped from fangs as long as her fingers.
She stumbled backward, her bare feet slipping on loose stones. "Nice kitty?" she whispered, though her voice came out as a squeak.
The beast lunged.
She dove to her left as fast as she could, with speed and flexibility that surprised herself, but it was still not fast enough. Claws raked across her right shoulder, tearing through the leaf garment and into flesh. Pain exploded through her body as she was hit with an almost unnatural force that threw her into the distance, hitting the ground hard and rolling behind a fallen log.
Blood ran down her arm, she could feel it, hot and sticky. But the moment she pressed her hand to the deep flesh wound, something strange happened. The burning pain began to fade, and when she pulled her hand away, the gashes were already closing.
The creature prowled around the log, its growls vibrating through the earth. She had maybe seconds before it found her. Her shoulder was healed, but she was still just a small child against something that could probably eat bears for breakfast.
So she did the only thing she could think of and ran as fast as her body could muster.
She crashed through undergrowth, branches whipping at her face. Behind her, heavy paws thundered against the forest floor, getting closer at an alarmingly rapid pace. Her small legs were no match at all for the beast's stride.
A thick cluster of bushes appeared ahead, dark branches with ominous red stripes running along the bark. She had no time to think, diving straight into them as thorns raked across her skin. She pressed herself as deep as possible, trying to control her ragged breathing.
The creature skidded to a stop just outside the thicket, but didn't follow. Instead, it began pacing back and forth, letting out frustrated growls. She could see its massive paws through the gaps, close but unwilling to enter.
*Sniff... sniff...*
Her skin began to tingle and turn black where the thorns had scratched her, then burn. Poison. The realization hit just as her vision started to blur at the edges. But even as the toxin spread, she felt that familiar warmth in her chest pushing back. The burning faded, her vision cleared, and the scratches sealed themselves.
She held her breath. The beast paused directly in front of her hiding spot, its yellow glowing eyes scanning the branches. For a long moment, neither moved.
Then something else rustled in the distance, another animal, perhaps. The predator's head snapped toward the sound, ears twitching. As it began to pad away toward the noise, her clear crimson eyes focused on its retreating form and a panel with golden text popped up:
--
[Status Panel]
Name: Unknown
Race: Shadowfang Tiger
Age: 40 years
Lifespan: 100 years
Existence Tier: Tier 0
Divine Abilities: None
Bloodlines: Nightstalker (Thin-Advanced)
Gifts: None
Talent: Beast Cultivation: 1★
Description: A weak nocturnal predator with enhanced stealth abilities. Its midnight-black fur allows for near-perfect camouflage in shadows. Extremely aggressive.
--
Weak?! How is such a fierce tiger considered weak??
She stared at the fading panel in disbelief. That thing had nearly killed her in seconds, and the system called it weak?
Both this tiger and yesterday's fish had 1★ talents, but the tiger had an Advanced bloodline compared to the fish's basic Thin one. If the tiger was still considered weak despite being clearly more dangerous...
A chill ran down her spine that had nothing to do with the poison thorns. If creatures like this were at the bottom of the power scale, what kind of monsters existed at the higher tiers? There would probably be creatures that could stomp her by just glancing at her.
She remained hidden until the tiger's footsteps completely faded, then carefully extracted herself from the poisonous thicket. Her leaf garment was in tatters, but her skin showed no sign of the wounds that should have been there. The indestructibility thing was definitely an incredible gift, but it hadn't made her invulnerable. The pain she just felt was something most humans would never have to experience, at least in her previous world.
As she exhaled to relieve the lingering tension, a new scent drifted through the air. It was so faint that she only picked it up thanks to her physique that granted her almost inhuman senses. As she focused on the smell, her small nose twitching, she realized it was an aroma of smoke mixed with wild meat. It made her empty stomach clench with sudden, desperate hunger.
It was food. Actual food.
She hadn't eaten since yesterday when she reincarnated, surviving somehow on water from the stream, but now the smell of what might be roasted meat made her realize just how ravenous she was. Without thinking, she began following the scent through the trees.
The smell grew stronger as she moved towards the stream. And when she arrived at the stream that now glowed in the light of dawn, she walked south instead of north, where she found the cave she slept at. After just a few minutes of walking, she noticed that the undergrowth was thinner here, worn down by regular passage. Then she saw it. A small path. Not a proper road, but the kind of track that forms naturally when people walk the same route repeatedly. And, connected to the natural path was a small, crude wooden bridge spanning the narrow water. Just a few logs lashed together with rope, but clearly human-made.
And draped over the bridge's edge, as if someone had set it out to dry and forgotten it, was a piece of brown cloth. She approached cautiously and lifted it, a simple robe, worn thin in places and patched in others, but clean and whole.
Looking down at her tattered leaf garment, the choice was obvious. The robe was far too large for her small frame, but when she pulled it over her head and tied the rope belt tight, it covered her properly. She had to roll up the sleeves several times, and the hem dragged on the ground, but it would do.
The relief of finally wearing some clothes was immediate and overwhelming, not just physical comfort, but something deeper. For the first time since waking up in this body, she felt less exposed, less vulnerable. The fabric was a barrier between her and the world that made her feel almost... human again.
With that small comfort restored, she became more aware of her surroundings again. The scent of food was stronger now enough for a regular human to pick up, and following the path on the other side of the bridge, she could hear something new drifting through the trees.
Voices.
Human voices, though the words were foreign, flowing in rhythms and sounds completely unlike her native language, or frankly any language she ever even heard in her previous life. She'd heard these same incomprehensible sounds the night before, when people had passed near where she'd first awakened in this body.
She crept forward until the trees began to thin, following both the scent and the distant voices. Her oversized robe rustled softly with each step, the familiar weight of dread settling in her stomach, not just fear, but a peculiar kind of anxiety that felt sharper, more immediate than anything she'd experienced in her previous life. Her emotions seemed to spike and crash without warning now, childlike in their intensity. One moment she'd feel brave enough to face whatever lay ahead, the next she'd want to hide behind the nearest tree and cry.
Through the gaps in the foliage, she caught her first glimpse of cleared land, fields of some grain she didn't recognize, and beyond them, a cluster of small buildings with smoke rising from their chimneys.
But it was the people working in the nearest field that made her freeze.
Three figures bent over rows of crops, their movements practiced and efficient. Two appeared to be adults, one younger, perhaps a teenager. They were close enough that she could make out their clothes: simple, earth-colored garments similar to the robe she now wore.
I can't understand them, she reminded herself, fingers twisting nervously in the rope belt. Even if they're friendly, how do I explain... this? She gestured vaguely at herself, a ten-year-old girl in an oversized robe, alone in the wilderness, who couldn't speak their language. The scenario felt hopeless before it even began.
But the smell of food from the distant buildings made her stomach clench again, a sharp pang that overrode her caution. When had she last eaten? The memory felt distant, fuzzy, like trying to recall a dream. Her body's needs were becoming impossible to ignore, not just hunger, but a bone-deep exhaustion that made her want to curl up somewhere safe and sleep for days.
She pressed herself against the rough bark of a tree, her small heart beating so fast it felt like it might burst. The rational part of her mind, the part that still remembered being Ben, knew she should observe longer, assess the situation, maybe try to find another way. But the child's part of her, the part that seemed to grow stronger each hour, just wanted to run to them crying and beg for help.
The conflict felt strange, like echoes of someone else's thoughts. Ben's memories were there, but they felt... distant. Wrong, somehow. Like trying to wear clothes that no longer fit. Had they always felt this disconnected? She couldn't remember.
What scared her most wasn't that she was in a child's body, it was that she was starting to think like a child. Ben's adult reasoning felt increasingly foreign, while her immediate, emotional responses felt natural and right. Was she losing herself? Or had she never really been Ben at all?
The memories were there when she reached for them, but they felt like stories someone had told her rather than experiences she'd lived. Meanwhile, every sensation in this small body, the way fear made her want to hide and cry, the way hunger overrode all logic, felt more real than anything Ben had ever experienced.
The decision was made for her when her empty stomach let out a loud, plaintive growl that seemed to echo in the morning air.
The youngest of the three, a boy who looked about sixteen, with short brown hair and a sturdy build, straightened and turned toward the forest edge. His eyes widened as he spotted her small figure partially hidden behind the tree, and she saw his mouth fall slightly open in surprise.
"Mira! Papa!" he called out, his voice carrying clearly across the field.
Oh no, oh no, oh no! Her first instinct was to run and hide, but her legs felt frozen. The other two looked up, following his gaze, and the moment their eyes found her, all three froze completely.
She wanted to disappear. Her enhanced senses picked up their accelerated heartbeats, the sharp intake of breath from the woman. Were they scared of her? Angry? She clutched the oversized robe tighter around herself, tears threatening at the corners of her crimson eyes.
But she was so hungry, and she didn't know what else to do.
Trembling, she took a tiny step out from behind the tree, ready to bolt at the first sign of hostility. One small hand raised in what she desperately hoped was a peaceful gesture, though it shook visibly.
"Please," she said in English, her voice barely above a whisper, higher pitched than she expected, with a tremor that wasn't entirely from fear. The words carried a vulnerability that Ben's voice never had, something that seemed to bypass her conscious control and speak directly to these strangers' protective instincts. "I... I need help."
Of course they wouldn't understand. Fresh tears threatened as she realized how hopeless this was. The middle-aged woman with long hair that was of the same color as the boys' and green eyes, Mira, presumably, actually took a step backward, her hand moving to cover her mouth. It was something closer to wonder.
The older man shared the boy's short brown hair and brown eyes, but with sharper eyebrows, a short beard and a much larger build. He simply stared, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. Not just a lost child, but one so strikingly beautiful it seemed almost unreal, her presence seeming to make the world around her appear dull by comparison.
She saw them exchange glances, the kind of look that passed between adults when they encountered something that didn't quite fit their understanding of the world. A child this lovely didn't just wander out of the forest alone.
Child. The word settled in her mind with growing acceptance. That's what she was now, regardless of the memories and experiences locked away inside. These people saw a little girl who needed help, and increasingly, that's how she felt too. The fierce independence she'd cultivated as Ben seemed to be dissolving, replaced by something more uncertain, more dependent on others' kindness.
She tried to smile through her nervousness, but it came out wobbly and uncertain. Fighting back sniffles, she placed both small hands on her stomach and tried to look as pathetic and hungry as she felt, which wasn't difficult at all.
What am I going to do? The thought carried a new kind of helplessness, different from Ben's occasional moments of uncertainty. This felt more immediate, more desperate, the fear of a child who truly didn't know where she belonged or what would happen next.
But as she looked at these three strangers, at the way their initial shock was giving way to something that looked like concern, she felt something else stirring alongside the fear. A fragile hope that maybe, somehow, she'd found people who might help her figure out whatever came next in this impossible new life.