Eis moved further into the dark forest, the sounds of men crying, howling, and fighting for their lives growing louder with each step. Shouts pierced the chaos.
"Hey! Get it! Kill the beast or die for the village! Yaaaaahhhh!!!"
More monsters were approaching, their presence announced by the glowing red pinpricks of their eyes in the gloom, threatening to overrun the desperate defenders.
"Well, that's kinda stupid. No one has a plan at all," Eis muttered to himself, observing the disorganised clumps of villagers swinging axes and spears wildly. "Oooh, well, I guess we are in the primitive stage. So be it." With a deep breath, he also shouted, a raw sound that tore from his throat, and rushed into the battlefield.
It was a sea of blood. Monsters lay on the ground, bleeding and twitching. Humans lay still, their eyes vacant. The air was thick with the iron scent of death and the guttural roars of beasts.
Eis didn't hesitate. He took a running leap, channelling his energy downward, and slammed the butt of his Gale-Heart Staff into the earth.
A visible shockwave of force rippled outwards, throwing back a cluster of smaller, wolf-like creatures and creating a momentary pocket of space. He used the second to scan the fray.
His initial assessment was correct; most of the weaker beasts were already dead, their corpses littering the ground. The remaining ones were larger, meaner, the survivors of three brutal days of fighting.
As the dust from his shockwave settled, a new threat emerged. A massive Rockskin Boar, its hide like cragged stone, lowered its head. With a snort that fogged the air, it charged, its two wicked tusks aimed to gore and trample.
Eis moved to sidestep, but the boar was fast—unnaturally fast. It twisted its head with a predator's reflex, and a tusk caught him in the side, lifting him off his feet and hurling him backwards.
He crashed into a thick tree trunk with a sickening thud, the wind knocked from his lungs. He slid down, coughing, a spray of fresh, coppery blood hitting the leaf litter.
"Shit," he wheezed, pushing himself up. "The boar drew first blood."
The boar reversed, hooves digging trenches in the soil to gain momentum for another charge. This time, Eis was ready. He spun his staff in the air, the metal humming as it cut through the bloody mist. As the boar thundered toward him, Eis sprinted forward to meet it. At the last second, he leapt, twisting his body into a spinning vortex.
The spinning staff met the boar's skull with a crack that echoed like splitting stone. The impact jarred up Eis's arms, but he held on, the momentum of his spin and the boar's charge combining into a devastating blow. They both crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs and tusks, Eis rolling several times before skidding to a stop in a crouch—a Spider-Man pose amid the carnage.
He rose slowly, every muscle protesting. The Rockskin Boar was on its side, dazed but not dead, its stony hide cracked where his staff had struck. Eis approached. He wasn't taking chances. He hefted his staff like a batter preparing for a home run swing.
THWACK. THWACK. THWACK.
The sound was wet and final. He hit the boar's head again and again until its struggles ceased. As soon as the life left its eyes, the massive carcass shimmered and dissolved, vanishing into his system's inventory.
[+1,800 AP]
[Rockskin Boar Tusk (x2) added to Materials.]
[Minor Healing Potion awarded for First Elite Kill.]
A healing department? He accessed it mentally. A warm, soothing energy flowed through him, mending his bruised ribs and clearing the taste of blood from his mouth. He took a few steadying breaths before turning back to the maelstrom.
The next few hours were a blur of brutal calculus: battle, win, sometimes run away to recover. He fought giant scorpions with stinging tails, dodged the acidic spit of corrupted panthers, and worked in fleeting, wordless tandem with other surviving villagers. There was no glory, only survival.
As dusk began to truly deepen into night, a horn sounded—a signal for rotation. A fresh, grim-faced group moved forward to take the night watch. Eis and the others, battered and exhausted, fell back towards a fortified camp deep in the forest.
By the time he arrived, the men were already gathered around a large central fire. A bulky man with arms like tree trunks and a face carved from granite stood on a log, addressing the survivors.
"Men! Today we did well! We held the line! We only lost 40 men in this push against the beasts!" The bulky man's voice was hoarse but strong. "We continue like this, with courage and strength, and the rest of us can go home! Do you hear me? We can go home!"
A ragged, desperate cheer rose from the crowd. It was less a cry of victory and more a roar of defiance against the despair that clung to them like the forest mist.
"YEAHHHHHHH! YAHHHHHHHH! VICTORRRRRRY!"
Eis leaned against a makeshift barricade, catching his breath. He didn't join the cheer. He just watched the firelight dance on the exhausted, triumphant, and grieving faces around him. This wasn't a game. This was a primitive world, and the cost was written in blood and counted in bodies. He had survived the day. Tomorrow was another.
"Today, men, we rest! Tomorrow we bury our fallen brothers and share the spoils of war. But today... Today we get some good sleep."
The bulky commander's words were a balm to the exhausted warriors. He turned and ducked into his own, larger tent, seeking the oblivion of sleep. The camp, buzzing with the low murmur of conversation, pain, and relief, gradually quieted. Men moved stiffly to their respective lean-tos and small tents, their movements heavy with fatigue and loss.
Eis moved to the outskirts of the cleared area. With practised efficiency, he pulled a large, tough Chicken-Stalker hide from his inventory—a prize from a previous, less epic skirmish. In minutes, he had a small, serviceable tent pegged into the soft earth. At the communal fire, now banked to glowing coals, he skewered thick slabs of the Rockskin Boar meat. The fat sizzled and dripped, sending up a rich, savoury smoke that made nearby men's stomachs growl with envy.
He ate slowly, feeling the potent energy of the elite beast meat flood his system. It was more than just nourishment; it was fuel. As he consumed the last bite, a familiar, warm pressure built in his core, followed by a wave of cleansing heat that washed through his muscles and bones. His senses sharpened; the crackle of the fire became distinct, the rustle of leaves in the distant dark clear. The lingering ache from the boar's tusk faded into a memory.
[Congratulations!]
[Tier 1 → Tier 2 Warrior Advancement Complete.]
[Core Density Increased.]
[Physical Parameters Enhanced.]
[New Passive Unlocked: 'Battle-Sense' - Slight intuitive awareness of imminent attacks within melee range.]
A grim smile touched his lips. Progress, paid for in violence. He tossed the skewer into the fire and retired to his tent. Inside, he lay down on the processed wolf pelts he'd laid out—soft, thick, and smelling faintly of pine and tannin. He closed his eyes.
"System," he whispered into the dark. "Set an alarm for 2 AM."
[Alarm set: 0200 Hours. Objective: 'Business to Run.']
"We have business to run," he murmured to himself, the words a final conscious thought before the deep, dreamless sleep of utter exhaustion claimed him.
BZZZT. BZZZT. A silent, neural pulse jolted him awake.
The camp was silent, the deep, dreamless sleep of hard-won exhaustion hanging over it like a fog. The only sounds were the low crackle of the banked communal fire and the heavy, rhythmic breathing of forty men.
Eis's eyes snapped open at exactly 2 AM, no alarm needed. The System's internal clock was mercilessly precise. He didn't move immediately, listening to the rhythm of sleeping men, confirming the camp's vulnerable stillness.
He slipped from his tent like a shadow given form, his Tier 2 body moving with fluid, predatory grace. The 'Battle-Sense' hummed faintly at the edge of his awareness, not for immediate threats, but for opportunity.
And opportunity was everywhere.
His destination was clear: the massive pile of butchered meat that represented the day's hunting spoils. Boars, corrupted beasts, and other monstrosities, skinned, gutted, and portioned into thick, bloody slabs. It was the camp's food supply, the fuel for tomorrow's fighting, the reward for the survivors.
Eis had no intention of sharing.
He ghosted through the camp's edge, avoiding even the lightest sleepers. His target was well-guarded in theory, and a single watchman leaned against a tree near the meat pile. But the man was exhausted, his head nodding, his weapon hanging loosely.
Eis didn't need to harm him. He just needed to be invisible.
He circled wide, approaching from behind the guard's blind spot. The night air was cool and thick with the metallic tang of blood and the earthy scent of the forest. He paused behind a cluster of supply crates, watching. The guard's breathing deepened. He was nearly asleep on his feet.
Eis flowed from cover and crossed the open ground in a low, silent crouch. In seconds, he was at the edge of the meat pile. It was enormous, a mountain of carnage that represented days of hard fighting and countless beast kills.
He placed a hand on the nearest slab. It was cool, slightly tacky with coagulated blood.
[Attempting to store: Rockskin Boar Haunch (x1).]
[Inventory Capacity: 23/50.]
Pathetic. He'd barely begun collecting materials, and his standard inventory was already constraining him—time to expand.
He pulled up his System interface, the glowing text visible only to him in the dark.
[Available AP: 16,250]
More than enough. He navigated to the Inventory Expansion sub-menu. The costs were steep, but he'd earned them through blood and violence.
[Expand Inventory Capacity: 50 Slots → 500 Slots]
[Cost: 5,000 AP]
"Still too small. I want it bigger."
[Expand Inventory Capacity: 50 Slots → 1,000 Slots]
[Cost: 10,000 AP]
He didn't hesitate.
[Confirm Expansion? Y/N]
Yes.
A warm, tingling sensation flowed through him, not physical but spatial—an expansion of internal capacity that felt like a vast warehouse opening up in his mind. The sensation was dizzying, almost overwhelming in its scope.
[Inventory Capacity: 23/1,000.]
[AP Remaining: 6,250]
Perfect.
He turned back to the meat pile, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face. He began to work.
A touch, a thought. A slab of meat vanished.
[Stored: Rockskin Boar Haunch (x1). Capacity: 24/1,000.]
Another.
[Stored: Corrupted Panther Flank (x1). Capacity: 25/1,000.]
He moved methodically, a thief in the night, his hands a blur as he touched and stored, touched and stored. The pile began to shrink visibly. The mountain of meat dissolved into his expanded inventory, slot after slot filling with bloody, potent fuel.
50... 100... 150...
200... 250... 300...
400... 500... 600...
He was a vacuum, a silent, ravenous void. The pile dwindled to a hill, then to a mound, then to scattered strips on the blood-soaked ground. He took them too.
Finally, he stood in an empty clearing. The ground was dark and wet, stained with the evidence of the day's slaughter, but not a single scrap of meat remained. His inventory was a treasure trove of power.
[Inventory: 784/1,000 Slots Filled.]
[Primary Contents: Assorted Elite Beast Meat (Various Cuts, ~7,800 lbs estimated)]
He took a deep, quiet breath. The air still smelled of blood, but now it was just the scent of the battlefield, not of food.
His eyes scanned the camp. No one stirred. The guard was still nodding, unaware that the entire day's work had simply... vanished.
Tomorrow, Eis thought, the grim satisfaction settling in his gut like a stone, they will bury their dead. They will search for the spoils of their war. And they will find nothing but empty fields. They will have to hunt again, tired and hungry, while I... I will feast. I will burn this fuel to grow stronger. While they share grief, I will hoard power.
He returned to his tent, the wolf pelts soft beneath him. The stolen meat sat in his inventory, a vast, silent hoard of potential money to be spent on fueling his desires