On the continent of Estenor—a land that would one day be remembered as the primordial continent—the first traces of a nascent civilization were beginning to rise. From the top of a hill, one could observe how the landscape, once ruled solely by untamed nature, was slowly but steadily starting to change.
The structures that emerged were simple, even crude to the eyes of someone with advanced knowledge. Built from wood, stone, and hardened mud, they lacked any sophisticated planning. Still, no one could deny their usefulness. Those buildings were now homes—shelters against the cold, the rain, and the beasts that lurked beyond the safe perimeter.
The streets were nothing more than packed dirt paths, marked by the constant traffic of people coming and going as they carried out their daily tasks. A wooden fence surrounded the settlement: sharpened stakes firmly driven into the ground, forming a rudimentary yet effective defense against unexpected attacks. It was not a city in the strict sense of the word.
Some primordials patrolled tirelessly, taking turns watching the surroundings. They carried simple weapons, made from the materials available to them, but their gazes were alert and steady. Despite the apparent calm, they knew the world was dangerous.
Unaware of it, as they went about their daily routines, an observer watched them.
Genesis.
Invisible, silent, a witness to every small step forward, it observed how those creatures—still ignorant of their true role in the fate of the planet—began to write their own history. It saw how they organized themselves to hunt, how they learned from their mistakes, and how each experience made them a little stronger.
Some grouped together to hunt beasts, seeking their meat and hides; others ventured into the forest, gathering fruits, roots, and vegetables that could be consumed safely. It was a fragile balance, but it worked.
Sylvanas's Point of View
At least five months have passed since the appearance of the system.
Five months since our lives changed forever.
The system taught us many things: how to communicate, how to understand the world, how to survive. It gave us basic knowledge we hadn't possessed before. However, there were concepts that still confused me, and one of them was what it called a profession.
No matter how much I tried to understand it, every time I asked a question, the system responded with another question. It was frustrating, as if it were inviting me to reflect instead of giving a direct answer. In the end, I decided to set that issue aside—at least for now. There were more urgent matters to deal with.
At that moment, I was accompanying my companions on a hunt.
Over time, and thanks to the system's guidance, we had learned to craft tools, though I still didn't fully understand how that process worked. Every advancement was slow, but it felt real, tangible.
My preferred weapon was the bow. I liked the distance it gave me, the sense of control as I drew the string and released the arrow at just the right moment. Even so, I never went out without a knife tied to my belt, made from the sharp teeth of one of my previous kills, in case I needed it. It was a constant reminder that even the hunter could become the hunted.
Everything changed when one of us discovered that the hearts of beasts and certain special fruits could help us cultivate faster. From then on, the forest stopped being just a source of food—it became an opportunity.
After several failed attempts, we managed to develop a technique that allowed us to absorb the source energy present in the environment. It wasn't immediate or easy; many failed at first, feeling nothing more than a slight tingling—or, in the worst cases, extreme exhaustion.
But we finally succeeded.
We knew we were on the right path when the system acknowledged it and classified it as a skill.
That simple recognition filled us with pride.
As we moved through the undergrowth, I thought about checking my progress. All it took was a thought, and the transparent screen appeared in front of me.
Name: Sylvanas
Race: Primordial
Title: None
Cultivation: Mortal (Initial)
Class: None
Combat Power: Mortal (Intermediate)
Basic Skills:
[Universal Language (Level 1)]
[General Knowledge (Level 2)]
[Basic Meditation Technique (Level 1)]
[Basic Evaluation (Level 1)]
Combat Skills:
[Basic Archery (Level 2)]
[Basic Knife Skill (Level 2)]
[Basic Hunting Skills (Level 1)]
Reading it, I couldn't help but smile.
Maybe my cultivation hadn't advanced much, but my combat power had—and that was what truly mattered in this world. Here, strength meant survival.
"Sylvanas, are you paying attention?" a voice whispered beside me.
It was one of my hunting companions. It wasn't the first time I'd gotten distracted by the system screen.
"Yes, I'm paying attention," I replied softly, looking away.
Ahead of us, among the trees, was our target: a Gronk.
It was an imposing beast. Three horns jutted from its head like natural spears, and its body was covered in dense muscle and thick hide. From experience, we knew that neither arrows nor knives could pierce it easily.
I whispered carefully, "Evaluation."
The screen appeared again, this time displaying different information.
Name: None
Race: Gronk
Title: None
Cultivation: Mortal (Initial)
Combat Power: Mortal (Intermediate)
The greatest danger of a gronk was its charge. If it managed to hit head-on, it could kill a primordial in a single blow. Still, the reward was worth the risk. A single gronk could feed at least a hundred of our people for an entire month.
That was why we never hunted it alone.
To face it, we formed groups of ten to fifteen hunters. The strategy was clear and had been refined through practice. While some distracted it, others aimed for its eyes. Once it lost its sight, we threw ropes to bind its legs and attacked from a distance, slowly wearing it down until it fell.
I took a deep breath, drew my bow, and waited for the signal.
But then I noticed something was wrong—something didn't feel right. The forest was too quiet. Even the gronk seemed to be holding its breath.
Then I understood.
We weren't the only hunters watching from the shadows.