The air in the cramped crawl space beneath the burning shed grew steadily hotter, thick with the acrid smell of smoke and charring wood. Ethan pushed through the damp earth, his limbs aching with renewed intensity, but the terror of being incinerated alive spurred him onward. He could hear the crackle and roar of the fire above, a hungry beast consuming the rickety structure. Above, the muffled groans of the remaining walkers eventually faded, their attention likely drawn away by the spreading blaze.
He crawled for what felt like an eternity, the darkness absolute, until his fingers scraped against loose earth and roots. He pushed upward, grimacing as splinters dug into his palms and fresh pain shot through his side. With a grunt, he pulled himself free, tumbling out into the cool, damp air of the forest, far from the inferno.
He lay there for a moment, gasping, sucking in lungfuls of clean air, the smell of pine a welcome antidote to the smoke. His body was a symphony of aches and throbs, but the adrenaline that had fueled his desperate fight was slowly ebbing away, replaced by a profound weariness.
Host Status: Ethan Miller
Health: 5/10 (Stabilized – Minor healing detected, infection resistance significantly improved).
Stamina: 6/10 (Moderate – regeneration).
Strength: 4 (Temporarily weakened)
Agility: 3 (Temporarily impaired)
Perception: 3 (Impaired – fever, pain).
He was still hurt, still exhausted, but undeniably stronger. His health was at 50%, a monumental leap from the brink of death. His stamina was recovering, and his strength and agility, though not fully restored, offered him a real fighting chance. The obsidian stone, now integrated into his System, felt like a faint, persistent hum beneath his skin, a promise of power yet to be fully understood.
He pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly. The burning shed was a glow against the twilight sky, casting eerie, flickering light onto the trees. He had survived. He had faced down an Infected and a Thug, armed with little more than a bat, a knife, and the desperate knowledge from a past life.
Hershel's Farm. The thought solidified in his mind, a beacon in the vast, dangerous wilderness. He knew the general direction: south-southwest. He also knew he couldn't just blindly wander. He needed to find a road, a landmark, something to guide him. His old System's map function was gone, but his human intellect, now bolstered by his reincarnation memories, had to compensate.
He started walking, putting distance between himself and the burning shed. The forest was dark now, shadows stretching long and distorted, turning familiar shapes into lurking monsters. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, made him tense. He was constantly on alert, his Perception straining, his bat held ready.
Hours passed in a grueling, silent march. The moonlight, filtering through the dense canopy, offered little illumination. He stumbled over roots, scraped against thorns, but he kept moving. He needed to find water, badly. The little he'd had earlier was long gone, and the thirst was becoming agonizing.
As the pre-dawn light began to filter through the trees, painting the sky in hues of bruised purple and grey, he heard it. The faint, rhythmic sound of running water. His heart leaped. He pushed through a final thicket of bushes and emerged onto the bank of a narrow, clear stream.
He fell to his knees, ignoring the pain, and plunged his face into the cold water, drinking deeply, desperately, until his stomach ached. He splashed water onto his face, rinsing away the grime and blood. It was an immediate, profound relief.
He stayed by the stream, resting, letting his Stamina recover. He needed food, but water was the priority. As he rested, he looked around. The stream flowed generally south-southwest. A natural guide. He would follow it.
The daylight brought its own dangers. He saw more walkers now, drawn by the water source, or just wandering. But he also saw something else. Tracks. Faint, old, but clearly tire tracks on what looked like an ancient, overgrown logging path running parallel to the stream. And fresh boot prints. Humans. That meant potential supplies, but also potential trouble. He was still alone.
He followed the stream, staying just within the cover of the tree line, watching the path. He found an abandoned campsite, long since raided. Nothing but cold ashes and overturned cans. No BP. No useful supplies.
Later that afternoon, a new sound cut through the forest quiet: a distinct, high-pitched shriek. Not a walker. Not even an Infected. This was a sound he knew from the games, a chilling, guttural roar that spoke of brute force.
A Thug.
Hostile detected: Thug (Class-III). BP potential upon neutralization: 5.
Warning: High threat hostile detected. Recommend cautious engagement or evasion.
Ethan immediately dropped into a crouch, seeking cover behind a large, fallen log. He peered through the foliage. About fifty yards ahead, the massive form of a Thug lumbered into a small clearing near the stream. It was even bigger than the one he'd fought in the shed, its huge, mutated arms hanging low, dragging on the ground. Its skin was mottled, ripped, and putrid. It let out another earth-shattering shriek, then began to smash at a tree trunk, seemingly for no reason other than pure, destructive rage.
Five BP. That was too much to pass up. With his current stats, he stood a far better chance now than he did against the shed's Thug. His Strength was 4, his Agility 3. He could handle this. He had to.
He assessed the situation. The Thug was alone. No horde. No Infected to flank him. Just raw power. He needed to hit hard, hit fast, and disable its mobility. He remembered the weak points: the knees, the elbows, the neck. Its slow, predictable movements were its greatest weakness against a faster opponent.
He moved silently, circling wide, using the dense trees for cover. He reached a point directly behind the Thug, making sure he was upwind so his scent wouldn't carry. He clutched his bat, the familiar weight a comfort.
He waited, letting the Thug finish its furious assault on the tree. As it turned slowly, its back momentarily exposed, Ethan burst from cover. He moved with a speed he didn't know he possessed, a raw, desperate surge of his increased Agility.
He didn't aim for the legs this time. He went for the spine, just at the base of the neck, where the Thug's head connected to its massive, mutated body. It was a risky shot, requiring precision and power.
He swung the bat in a devastating arc, a primal yell tearing from his throat.
CRUNCH!
The sound was sickening, bone and cartilage giving way. The Thug roared, a sound of agony and confusion, its massive body stiffening for a moment. It staggered forward, arms flailing, its huge frame listing, then slowly, agonizingly, it crashed to the ground with a shuddering thud that shook the earth. It thrashed once, twice, a dying tremor, then went still.
Hostile neutralized: Thug (Class-III).
Battle Points acquired: 5.
Current BP: 5.
Ethan stood over it, chest heaving, adrenaline flooding his veins. He hadn't felt such raw power since his System was fully functional. The immediate kill, the sheer effectiveness of his strike, sent a surge of grim satisfaction through him. Five Battle Points. He was practically salivating.
He moved quickly, not wanting to linger near the fresh kill. He found a small, partially covered depression in the ground, far enough from the Thug's scent.
BP Allocation Interface:
Available BP: 5.
Allocate to:
Strength (Current: 4) -> Cost: 1 BP
Agility (Current: 3) -> Cost: 1 BP
Endurance (Current: 6) -> Cost: 1 BP
Perception (Current: 3) -> Cost: 1 BP
He needed to keep building his core stats. More Endurance for survival, more Strength for combat, more Agility for evasion. Perception was important, but less immediately critical than his physical capabilities.
He allocated one point to Endurance.
BP Allocated: 1.
Endurance increased to 7.
Host Health Status Improvement: Health now 6/10 (Stabilized – Moderate healing detected, infection resistance significantly improved).
Stamina: 7/10 (Moderate – regeneration).
He felt the familiar thrum of subtle healing. His minor scrapes began to close, the deep aches in his muscles lessened further. He allocated another point to Strength.
BP Allocated: 1.
Strength increased to 5.
A surge of raw power, unmistakable this time. He clenched his fist, feeling the muscle fiber tighten, the bone solidify. He could hit like a truck now.
Then Agility.
BP Allocated: 1.
Agility increased to 4.
His movements felt lighter, more fluid. He stretched, testing his new nimbleness. He could probably outmaneuver a standard walker easily now, and maybe even an Infected if he was careful.
Two BP remaining. He considered Perception, but then he remembered his constant need for supplies.
He allocated both remaining points to Endurance and Strength respectively.
BP Allocated: 1.
Endurance increased to 8.
Host Health Status Improvement: Health now 7/10 (Stabilized – Significant healing detected, infection resistance greatly improved).
Stamina: 8/10 (Good – accelerated regeneration).
BP Allocated: 1.
Strength increased to 6.
His body hummed with renewed vitality. His Health was at 70%, nearing full recovery. His Stamina was regenerating at an impressive rate. His Strength was now formidable. He felt… powerful. A far cry from the crippled man who had crawled from the shed.
He was still without significant supplies, but he was a weapon now. A dangerous, self-improving killing machine. The ultimate survivor.
He found another small, clear patch of stream water, drank his fill, and then began to slowly and cautiously move along the stream bank, heading generally south-southwest. He was still in the wilderness, but he was no longer just surviving. He was hunting. And he was getting stronger with every kill. Hershel's Farm felt closer now, not just a distant memory, but a tangible destination he could fight his way towards.