The second month had begun.
June.
The season of rain.
A brutal monsoon swept across the mountains; water and mud swallowed everything. To avoid getting drenched, I covered my body with loose layers of straw. I had spent a whole month living in a tent, but in this kind of storm, the tent was nothing but a soaked sheet waiting to collapse.
Living among mosquitoes, insects, and all kinds of crawling creatures had turned my body into something almost primitive. Scars dotted my skin, my hair and beard had grown wild and unkempt.
Suddenly Galland said, "Riven, it's time for our final mission."
I stared at him, stunned. "Final mission?"
Galland nodded calmly. "Yes… this time, we hunt a tiger."
My throat went dry. "A tiger? Are you joking?"
His expression remained serious. "No, Riven. This is your last trial. There is a real chance of death. The decision is yours—stay… or walk away."
I stayed silent for a moment as the truth hit me. If I wanted to grow stronger, I had no choice. "I'm in," I said.
A faint smile formed on his face. "Good. But remember—if you get scared this time, you won't survive."
Galland led me to the peak of the mountain, where he had built a small wooden cabin. The hut was made of bamboo, wood, and old sheets of metal. Grass grew around the outside; dry logs were stacked beside the door. The windows were small, the inside simple—a bed, a table, and an old lantern hanging quietly.
I looked around and asked, "You built this alone?"
Galland chuckled. "Yes, all of it with my own hands. I told myself I needed a place to live without fear. I used to sleep in caves… then in tents… but the danger was too much—wild beasts, cold winds, storms. So I decided to build my own shelter on the mountain's peak. I gathered wood, bamboo, and logs from the jungle. It took me six months to finish this hut. At least here, even if I die, I'll die in peace."
I couldn't help but admire him.
He opened an old wooden box in the corner. Inside were weapons—many of them. He pulled out an old rifle and a set of bullets.
"This rifle is from my days as a commander. Today, it will be used for your final training."
Hearing the heaviness in his voice, I fell silent.
Night arrived. We took a torch, a backpack, and the rifle, then heading into the dense forest. The rain had softened into a mist, but the wind carried a chilling silence.
Galland said, "Listen carefully. First, conceal your scent and presence. A tiger's senses are razor sharp. Approach from the opposite direction of the wind. And remember—you only get one clean shot. Make it count."
We began searching. After a long time, we finally spotted one—a tiger resting alone in the darkness. Hunting at night was far easier than during the day; animals were less alert, less active. That's why we chose the night for the hunt.
I raised the rifle, took aim… and missed. The gunshot echoed. The tiger instantly leapt toward us.
Galland shouted, "Run! Now!"
Panic shot through me. I sprinted, but slipped and fell. The tiger was already in front of me, inches away from tearing me apart. At that moment, from the top of a tree, Galland fired a shotgun blast into the tiger's head. It collapsed with a heavy thud.
I barely survived.
"You fool!" Galland roared. "If you keep going like this, you'll never save anyone!"
Two weeks later, we chose a large banyan tree as our next target area. This time, I promised myself I would move silently, aim cleanly, and strike flawlessly. The tiger was hiding beneath the tree. I stepped forward quietly—but my foot struck a stone.
The sound awakened the beast.
The tiger roared and lunged at me. My shot fired wildly into the air. It charged straight at me, and I stood frozen, trembling, unable to breathe.
Just as the tiger reached me, Galland again rushed in, forcing the beast to redirect its attack toward him. He shielded me, fought it off, and I escaped—again, only because of him.
This happened again and again—seven times. Every hunt ended the same. I aimed, missed, stumbled, and the tiger nearly killed me. Every single time, Galland arrived in the final second—sometimes firing a gun, sometimes throwing a stone from a tree to distract the beast. His courage and skill were the only reasons I was still alive.
Each time I looked into his eyes, I saw the same thing—pain, regret, and a silent grief he tried so hard to hide.
Mental exhaustion. Physical pain.
Seven near-death encounters.
My body was broken—blood soaking my clothes, cuts burning across my arms, bruises on my legs. Yet Galland was never satisfied. His gaze remained hard as stone.
After each failure, he said, "Think. Where are your flaws? How are you aiming? How are your feet? How is your breath?"
"I'm trying," I told him.
"Trying and doing are different," he replied coldly. "Next time I won't save you. If you die, you die."
His voice shook with anger, but his eyes carried worry. I lowered my head. The next morning, I made a decision:
I would go alone.
At dawn, I set out by myself. Near the thick bushes below the mountain, I found fresh tiger tracks. My heartbeat quickened. I held my rifle tight and controlled my breath.
Then the tiger roared.
It sprang toward me. I ran, slipped in the mud, and fell down the slope. Dirt smeared across my face and body. The tiger landed on top of me—its eyes blazing, its fangs shining, blood dripping from its mouth.
I thought I was finished.
I closed my eyes. Then, using the last of my strength, I raised the rifle and fired—BANG!
The tiger froze. Its body rolled off me and dropped to the ground. I gasped and collapsed into the mud.
Galland came running. He lifted me into his arms, panic in his eyes.
"Idiot… you did it!" But beneath the frustration, there was pride in his voice.
Back in the hut, Galland cleaned my wounds and wrapped my injuries. I endured the pain and looked at my system bar.
[Mission Completed]
Xp Earned : 2X
Level Up ! 2
Health : 4.5/10 ;Strength : 5/10
Speed : 6/10 ; Stamina : 5.5/10
Defence : 7/10 ; Endurance: 8/10
Strategy Skill: Unlocked
Special Reward: None