Just staring at the HP of the Feral Horned Wolf, a cold bead of sweat slithered down Malik's back. His throat tightened.
600 HP...
His fists clenched unconsciously. That number meant only one thing—trouble. The Feral Horned Wolf wasn't just another beast; it was a mutated breed. Jet black fur, eyes like shards of silver moonlight, and a jagged bony horn curling from the center of its skull like a deathmark. Known across forums for its insane agility and brutal defense, it wasn't the kind of monster a player at Level 0—especially one with no weapon—had any business messing with.
Malik took a hesitant step back. Doubt crept in.
Sure, I've jumped levels to kill beasts before... but this? This might be suicide.
The moment that hesitation showed on his face, the Feral Horned Wolf's posture shifted—it retreated into the shadows of the cave, silent and swift. Malik blinked, stunned. "Huh?"
Then he saw them. Dozens of eyes glowing in the dark.
Cold. Silver. Watching.
His heart skipped a beat.
Pack.
It clicked instantly—though mutated, these were still wolves. And wolves never hunted alone.
"I need to get out of this cave—fast!" Malik turned sharply and bolted toward the entrance, his footsteps echoing off the stone like gunshots.
A howl—deep and primal—howled through the cave walls.
Then came the rustling.
Fast. Heavy. Everywhere.
The Feral Horned Wolves were on the move.
'Maybe... maybe running was a terrible idea.'
His instincts screamed. He dove left just in time, narrowly evading a claw swipe that hissed past his chest. Even still, blood welled up from a gash like a red smile carved into his skin.
<
Malik winced, gritting his teeth.
"Just one scratch took twenty HP?" He glanced around, breath ragged. "What kind of monsters are these?"
All around him, those silver eyes glowed low. The pack was crouched, fangs bared, waiting. Watching. Tension thickened like smoke. They were waiting for him to slip—just once.
He summoned his map, desperate for direction—dead. No signal. The system interface was blank here.
"I'm lost..." Malik muttered.
Another howl ripped through the cavern, followed by a second wolf charging in—this time horn lowered, sprinting, eyes locked.
Horn Charge.
He could see it—death racing toward him. Malik didn't dare meet the attack head-on. Even as a Cultivator, he wasn't made of steel.
He threw himself back, narrowly dodging the horn's curve as it passed just inches from his gut. The cave blurred around him as he stumbled, sprinting into the narrow lanes between the wolves, weaving between their attacks.
But they were faster. They were smarter.
Every time he dodged, another lunged. A bite here. A swipe there. The wolves were herding him, bleeding him out one drop at a time.
His chest rose and fell like a drowning man's.
Another swipe—this one struck his neck. A sharp sting, and a trail of crimson followed.
<
<
<<-1 HP every 60 seconds until bleeding stops.>>
Malik stumbled back, hand clinging to the gash on his arm, heart pounding.
'I should've left. Should've ignored that system message and backed off. This is suicide—Level 0, no gear, no backup, no idea what I'm doing. I must be insane...'
His legs shook. His vision blurred.
"Am I going to die... again? After everything I've been through... will it all still end in death?"
The words slipped from his mouth like a confession.
But as he spoke, something within him shifted. His body trembled—not with fear this time, but with fury.
His eyes—red, defiant—rose to meet the glowing orbs around him.
Then his aura erupted.
It came like a wave—hot and heavy, crashing down over the wolves like a mountain. The Half-Step Body Refinement Realm's aura poured out of his pores, suffocating the air itself. The wolves flinched.
Even they could sense it. Something was changing.
Malik cracked his knuckles, the sound like small explosions in the silence. His lips curled back, baring his teeth like a beast.
"Even if I die... I won't die alone."
He charged. Into the darkness. Into death. Headfirst.
Silver eyes blinked—confused.
He can't see, they thought.
But Malik wasn't just running. His aura surged again. And suddenly—
Ping!
<
<
The darkness peeled away like mist.
Malik blinked. And there they were.
Dozens of them. No longer just eyes. Now he saw everything—their crouched bodies, tense paws, lowered heads, twitching tails.
They'd made one mistake. They thought he was blind.
And now he wasn't.
A smirk pulled across Malik's face as he accelerated—light on his feet, bursting forward like a bullet.
Two wolves lunged. He didn't stop.
I remember... their horn is the source of their strength...
He reached out mid-run and grabbed both horns—one in each hand—and pulled with every ounce of strength.
SNAP!
A bone-breaking crack split the air.
The wolves' eyes flew open in shock—but it was already too late.
Malik twirled the horns in his hands and rammed them straight into their throats.
THWACK!
Their HP dropped like a guillotine, zeroing out in an instant.
Their bodies burst into light and fragments, loot scattering across the ground.
He was panting. Smiling. Half-mad, half-relieved.
"It worked..." he laughed. "The horn really is their weakness..."
Ping!
<
<
<
SQP: 1150 / 1000
Ping!
<
<<+5 stats to all attributes>>
<
His body tingled. Energy rushed through him like lightning through wires. The bleeding stopped. Wounds vanished. Strength returned.
HP: Full.
Stamina: Restored.
Malik stood straight, no longer limping, no longer wounded. His aura pulsed like a second heartbeat.
From Level 0... to Level 1.
He looked around—the wolves felt it too. Something about him had changed. Not just his level. His presence. His nature.
He cracked his neck, rolled his shoulders.
Then his fists clenched.
His eyes met the pack again—this time not as prey but as a predator.
"It's my turn now."