I woke to the sound of birds.
At least, I thought they were birds. The calls that drifted through the safe zone walls were melodic, almost musical—nothing like the threatening growls and screeches I'd heard in the forest. For a disoriented moment, I thought I was back in my old world, in my old apartment, with the morning sun streaming through familiar windows.
Then I opened my eyes and saw the crimson glow filtering through the safe zone's energy barrier, and memory crashed back.
Verdant. The Stalker. The kill. The warmth in my chest.
I sat up slowly, my body aching in ways I didn't expect. Muscles I didn't know I had screamed in protest. My hands were covered in small cuts—cw marks from the Stalker's death throes—that had already begun to scab over. The recovery attribute, I guessed. Even at baseline human levels, my body was working to heal itself.
Around me, the safe zone was coming alive. Hunters packed their gear, sharpened weapons, gathered around cooking fires for quick meals. The smell of roasting meat filled the air—some of it from creatures I didn't recognize, some from animals that looked almost familiar. A few people nodded at me as I passed, the casual acknowledgment of fellow hunters. Most ignored me completely.
I found Vera at the same fire as st night, already eating. She gestured to a spot beside her without looking up.
"Survived your first night. Good."
"Was there a reason I wouldn't?"
She shrugged. "First-timers sometimes get overconfident after a kill. Go back out at night. Get eaten by Gloomwings." She tore off a chunk of meat with her teeth. "You stayed. Smart."
I sat down, accepting a piece of meat she offered. It was tougher than the Stalker I'd eaten, with a stronger, gamier fvor. Different creature.
"Sand Wyrm," Vera said, noticing my expression. "Superior-rank. Killed it yesterday with my team. The tail section is the best part—tender, lots of gene points." She chewed thoughtfully. "You're at twelve Basic points now. At this rate, you'll need about eight more Stalkers to hit your first evolution. Maybe less if you find stronger Basic creatures."
"Eight more Stalkers." I did the math. "That could take weeks."
"Months, for most beginners." Vera looked at me with something like appraisal. "You got lucky yesterday. Really lucky. But luck doesn't stack. If you want to evolve faster, you need three things: skill, knowledge, and better souls."
"And the fourth thing?"
"What fourth thing?"
"The thing you're not saying."
Vera grinned—a sharp expression that showed too many teeth. "You're perceptive. Good. That'll help you survive." She leaned forward. "The fourth thing is a team. Solo hunters die faster. It's simple math—more eyes, more weapons, more chances to escape when things go wrong. A good team can hunt creatures twice as strong as any individual member."
"You offering?"
"Observing." She finished her meat and stood. "I've got a regur group. We're heading into the deep forest today, after some Superior-rank prey. But Rikkard—the man who mocked you st night—he's looking for a partner for some Basic-level hunting. He's an ass, but he's been on Verdant for eight years. Knows the forest better than anyone."
I looked across the safe zone, spotting Rikkard's scarred figure near the armory. He was arguing with a trader about something, his gestures sharp and impatient.
"He doesn't seem like the mentoring type."
"He's not. But he needs someone to watch his back while he hunts, and you need someone to teach you not to die." Vera shrugged. "Your choice. Go alone and probably die in a week, or team up with an asshole and probably die in a month." She walked toward the gate. "Think about it."
I thought about it.
---
An hour ter, I was walking into the Crimson Forest with Rikkard.
He hadn't been happy about the arrangement. Vera had spoken to him while I waited, and whatever she'd said had made him scowl but ultimately nod. Now he moved through the trees ahead of me, silent despite his size, every step pced with practiced precision.
"Stay close," he muttered without turning. "Stay quiet. Watch where I step, step there. If I stop, you stop. If I signal, you obey immediately. Questions?"
"Several."
"Save them. Move."
We traveled for an hour, deeper than I'd gone yesterday. The forest changed as we moved—the trees grew rger, their crimson leaves darker, almost bck in pces. The undergrowth thickened, forcing us to pick our way through tangles of thorny vines. Strange sounds echoed around us—calls I didn't recognize, movements I couldn't identify.
Rikkard stopped suddenly, one hand raised. I froze.
He pointed. Through the trees, maybe fifty meters away, a group of Stalkers was visible. Five of them, maybe six—hard to count through the foliage. They were moving slowly, heads low, following something.
"Pack," Rikkard breathed, so quietly I barely heard. "Hunting. We're downwind. Stay still."
We watched for ten minutes as the pack moved through the forest, finally disappearing into a dense thicket. Only when the st Stalker had vanished did Rikkard rex.
"That's why solo hunters die," he said, resuming normal volume. "One Stalker, you can handle with luck and skill. A pack of six? You're dead in seconds. No chance to run, no chance to fight. Just dead."
"How do you avoid them?"
"Knowledge. Experience. You learn their patterns, their territories, their hunting times. You learn to read the signs—tracks, scat, markings on trees. You learn where they nest and when they feed." He started moving again, angling away from where the pack had gone. "That's what I'll teach you. Not because I like you, but because a partner who knows what they're doing is worth ten who don't."
---
The next few hours were a blur of information.
Rikkard pointed out tracks I would have missed—faint depressions in the moss, broken twigs, disturbed patterns of leaves. He showed me cw marks on trees, expining how different creatures marked territory. He identified calls and cries, teaching me which meant danger and which meant safety.
"Stalkers have three main vocalizations," he said, pausing beside a massive tree. "The hunting call—that's a series of short, sharp barks. The warning call—a long, rising howl. And the death cry—you'll know it when you hear it. High-pitched, cuts off suddenly."
He moved on before I could ask questions.
We found our first target in a small clearing—a Thornback, grazing on glowing mushrooms. It was rger than I'd expected, maybe two meters long, covered in foot-long spines that bristled at the slightest movement.
"Watch," Rikkard whispered.
He circled downwind, moving with that same impossible silence. When he was in position, he picked up a stone and tossed it into the trees on the opposite side of the clearing. The Thornback's head snapped toward the sound, its spines rising.
Rikkard moved.
He crossed the clearing in seconds, bde extended. The Thornback sensed him at the st moment, spinning, spines unching—but Rikkard was already there, his sword taking it through the neck. The creature colpsed, twitching, and was still.
"Thornbacks are dangerous at range," he said, already kneeling to butcher. "Up close, they're slow. Their spines can't hit what's directly beneath them. Weakness in their design." He carved efficiently, removing the choicest cuts. "Every creature has weaknesses. Find them, exploit them, live."
I helped carry the meat back to a small campsite Rikkard knew—a sheltered spot beneath an overhanging rock, hidden from most traffic. We built a small fire, cooked the Thornback meat, and ate in companionable silence.
By the time we finished, my linker showed:
[Basic Gene Points: +4]
[Basic Gene Points: +3]
[Current Basic Gene Points: 19/100]
Seven points from one meal. Much better than the Stalker.
"No beast soul?" I asked.
Rikkard shook his head. "Thornback souls are rare. Maybe one in twenty drops something. You got lucky with your Stalker—Tier 4 on first kill is exceptional. Don't expect it to happen often."
We rested for an hour, then continued hunting. By the time the twin suns began to sink, we'd killed two more Stalkers and another Thornback. My Basic points had climbed to 34.
Rikkard called a halt as darkness approached. "Gloomwings hunt at night. We need to be back at the wall before full dark."
We made good time, reaching the safe zone as the st light faded. Other hunters were streaming in too, some carrying heavy loads of meat, others limping from wounds. A few were carried by their companions, their faces pale with pain.
"Bad day?" I asked.
Rikkard's expression was grim. "Someone always dies. Today it wasn't us." He looked at me, something almost like respect in his eyes. "You did well. Listened, learned, didn't do anything stupid. We'll hunt again tomorrow."
He walked away before I could respond.
---
That night, alone in the small sleeping cubicle I'd rented with my remaining credits, I examined my status again.
[STATUS: KAELEN DRAVIN]
Evolution Tier: Basic Evolver (Candidate)
Gene Points: 34/100 Basic
Attributes:
· Strength: 7 (Human Average: 10)
· Speed: 8 (Human Average: 10)
· Stamina: 6 (Human Average: 10)
· Perception: 12 (Human Average: 10)
· Recovery: 5 (Human Average: 10)
· Essence Capacity: 100/100 Basic
Beast Souls Equipped:
· Stalker Cws (Basic Rank, Tier 4)
Beast Souls Owned:
· Stalker Cws (Basic Rank, Tier 4)
Special:
· [UNKNOWN ENTITY DETECTED]: Fused to essence core. Effects observed: enhanced combat reflexes, increased beast soul drop rate. Source unknown. Cannot be removed.
Enhanced combat reflexes. Increased drop rate.
That expined the moment time slowed during my first fight. Expined why a Tier 4 soul had dropped from a common Stalker.
Whatever was inside me—the warmth, the presence, the thing the original Kaelen had found in the deep caves—it was helping me. Giving me advantages I shouldn't have.
But why?
And at what cost?
I pressed my hand to my chest, feeling the faint pulse of warmth. It responded to my touch, spreading slightly, like a living thing acknowledging my presence.
What are you? I thought for the hundredth time.
No answer. Just warmth, patient and waiting.
I y back on the thin mattress, staring at the ceiling of my cubicle. Tomorrow I'd hunt again. And the next day, and the next, until I had enough Basic points to evolve. Then I'd start on Evolved points, then Superior, then Prime, then—
Then Legend.
The thought should have seemed absurd. A beginner, barely alive for three days, talking about reaching Legend on a pnet where most hunters never made it past Evolved. But something in the warmth told me it was possible. Told me I was meant for more than just surviving.
I closed my eyes and slept.
---
The next two weeks followed a pattern.
Wake at dawn. Meet Rikkard at the gate. Hunt through the morning, killing Stalkers and Thornbacks and the occasional Gloomwing that hadn't retreated to its cave. Eat the meat raw sometimes, cooked others, always absorbing every gene point possible. Return at dusk. Sleep. Repeat.
My Basic points climbed steadily: 34 to 41 to 53 to 67 to 74. By the end of the first week, I had 82 Basic points. By the end of the second, I was at 98.
Two more points. One more kill.
Rikkard noticed my acceleration. "You're progressing faster than any beginner I've seen," he admitted one evening as we cooked a Stalker we'd killed that afternoon. "Most take months to get where you are in weeks. You've got something special."
I shrugged, not meeting his eyes. "Luck."
"Bullshit." He tore off a strip of meat. "Luck doesn't expin consistent success. You see things in a fight—openings, opportunities—that most don't. Your reflexes are faster than they should be. And your soul drops..." He shook his head. "Three souls in two weeks, including another Tier 4. That's not normal."
I didn't respond. What could I say? That I had an alien presence fused to my soul that enhanced my abilities? That I'd transmigrated from a century in the past into a dead man's body? That I had no idea what any of it meant?
Instead, I changed the subject. "Tomorrow. One more kill, and I evolve."
Rikkard nodded slowly. "You'll need to go to Haven for the ceremony. The evolution clinic there handles all first-tier evolutions. It's safe, controlled. They'll monitor you, make sure nothing goes wrong."
"Nothing goes wrong?"
"Evolution is dangerous. Your body restructures itself at the genetic level. Sometimes things... malfunction. It's rare, but it happens. That's why you do it in a clinic, with medical support." He paused. "You should also consider getting your souls properly catalogued. The clinic can assess their quality, recommend optimal combinations."
I filed that information away. "How far is Haven from here?"
"Half a day's journey through the forest. There's a safe route—patrolled, marked. Even a beginner could make it alone." He looked at me meaningfully. "But I'll go with you. Consider it payment for not being completely useless."
Despite everything, I smiled. "High praise from you."
"Don't get used to it."
---
The next morning, we killed our st Stalker.
It was a clean fight—Rikkard drew its attention while I circled behind and took it with a precise strike to the neck. As its body colpsed, the familiar warmth spread through me, and my linker fshed:
[BASIC GENE POINTS ABSORBED: +2]
[Current Basic Gene Points: 100/100]
[EVOLUTION THRESHOLD REACHED]
[Proceed to evolution clinic for advancement ceremony.]
[Warning: Evolution carries inherent risks. Medical supervision recommended.]
I stared at the dispy, a mix of excitement and nervousness churning in my stomach. One hundred points. The first step on a journey that could take me to Legend—or kill me trying.
Rikkard cpped me on the shoulder—a rare gesture of approval. "Congratutions. You're no longer completely helpless." He nodded toward the forest's edge. "Now let's get you to Haven before something eats us."
---
The journey took most of the day.
We followed the marked route—a path cleared through the forest, with periodic watchtowers manned by armed guards. Other travelers passed us occasionally: hunters returning from expeditions, traders carrying goods between settlements, even a few families moving with all their possessions.
"People live out here?" I asked, surprised.
"Some. Small communities, homesteads. People who prefer the forest to the city." Rikkard's expression was neutral. "They're either very brave or very stupid. Sometimes both."
As we walked, he shared more about the world. About the other biomes of Verdant—the Silver River with its treacherous waters, the Shattered Peaks where even breathing became difficult, the Endless Swamp where light itself was a trap. About the creatures that inhabited each region, from River Serpents to Sand Wyrms to the legendary beings that even Prime hunters avoided.
"Most people never leave the Crimson Forest," he said. "It's safe—retively. The creatures here are predictable. The risks are manageable. But the real rewards—the Superior and Prime gene points, the rare beast souls, the evolution to higher tiers—those are found in the dangerous pces."
"Have you been to them?"
A long pause. "Some. The Peaks. The Swamp, once—never again." His jaw tightened. "Lost good people in that swamp. Won't go back."
I didn't press.
---
Haven appeared on the horizon as the twin suns began their descent.
It was massive—far rger than Entry Point 7's small outpost. Walls of sanctuary steel rose fifty meters high, bristling with weapons and watchtowers. Beyond them, buildings stretched toward the sky—not as tall as Genesis City's towers, but impressive nonetheless. Energy shields shimmered above the walls, protecting the city from airborne threats.
"The capital of Verdant," Rikkard said. "Half a million people live here. Hunters, traders, craftsmen, families. It's the safest pce on the pnet—and the most expensive."
We passed through the gates after a brief security check. Inside, the city was alive with activity. Markets lined every street, selling everything imaginable: fresh meat from countless creatures, prepared foods, weapons and armor, beast souls dispyed in protective cases, maps of unexplored regions, information about creature locations and hunting grounds.
I stared at everything, overwhelmed. Rikkard guided me through the crowds with practiced ease.
"Evolution clinic is in the central district. Follow me."
---
