Sam remained sitting against the tree for a while. The pain in his side slowly ebbed away, and the rough bark pressing into his back became clearer with every breath he took. The headache dulled too, fading bit by bit as the lingering memories of this short, miserable life fully melted into his own.
Sam — the original owner of this body — had been born into poverty just like him.
No… worse. Much worse.
His mother, a proud prostitute unwilling to care for a child, had sold him to a gang that earned money off the people in the slums of Tarakan.
"Just like loan sharks…" Sam muttered with a crooked grin, tugging down the front of his sack-like shirt to find the slave mark.
There it was: a snake shaped like a sideways figure eight, coiled around a golden coin. The symbol of the Golden Snake Gang.
Sam exhaled sharply and shook his head.
"Sold into slavery at only four years old."
He pushed himself to his feet. The rough potato sack rustled as he moved, and a familiar heat — hatred he hadn't felt in a long, long time — simmered in his chest.
"I need to kill them…" Sam growled through clenched teeth. His eyes drifted toward the distant city wall rising above the treeline.
With a steady breath, he lifted his hand and willed it.
"Status."
────────────────────────────────
STATUS – SAMUEL
────────────────────────────────
Race: Human - Slave (ownerless)
Age: 7
Condition: Malnourished, Exhausted
LEVEL: 2/5
EXP: 9/15
HP: 23 / 37
Mana: 0 / 0
Strength: 5
Agility: 7
Endurance: 4
Dexterity: 6
Magic: 0
Willpower: 21
──────── Skills ────────
• Pain Tolerance (F)[Level 6/10]
• herb gathering (F) [Level 4/10]
• healing water (E) [Level 1/20]
————————————————————
The translucent window slowly faded, leaving Sam staring at the air it had occupied.
"So… this is my status? Somewhat miserable."
He scanned the lines again, frowning. No quest. No guidance. No hint about the voice he heard earlier.
"Maybe this is some kind of extra system?" he muttered—and the moment the word system left his lips, another interface snapped into existence before him.
——— Strongest Shop System ———
All functions locked.
Unlock requirements: Complete the first task.
Task:
• Secure Property: Buy a suitable plot of land to shape your future.
————
The little boy—Sam—grinned despite himself. A warm breeze brushed across his closely shaved hair.
"Is this a joke?"
He clicked his tongue and pushed the task aside for now. That could wait. First, he needed to deal with his former "owner"… and revenge himself.
Just as he turned his eyes back toward the distant city wall—
rustle…
The bushes to his right trembled.
A heartbeat later, a creature leapt out: a rabbit the size of a small dog, its fur a mottled grey-brown. Sunlight reflected off the long, sharpened horn jutting from its forehead—shaped like a dagger, pointed directly at him.
Its red eyes locked onto his.
Sam froze.
"…Oh hell."
The rabbit lowered its head.
It charged.
Out of pure instinct, Sam twisted his small body to the side, dodging the stabbing horn by a hair. As the creature shot past him, he slammed a quick hook into its eye.
The rabbit screeched but couldn't stop its momentum. It crashed head-first into the tree behind Sam, its horn sinking deep into the wood with a sharp crack.
Not wasting the chance, Sam jumped—higher than he expected with that tiny body—and came crashing down on the trapped horn.
A painful, guttural creak escaped the rabbit. Its legs buckled, and it slumped onto its stomach, stunned.
Sam didn't hesitate.
With a sharp twist, he ripped the horn out of the tree— and rammed it straight into the rabbit's exposed eye.
A burst of hot blood splattered across his hands. The creature convulsed once, then went limp.
Sam pulled the horn free again, stumbled backward, and collapsed onto the soft grass. His chest rose and fell in rapid, tiny breaths.
A cold notification chime echoed inside his skull.
[Killed 1x horned rabbit: 2 EXP]
„This body is fucking weak!" he exclaimed loud while his breaths went heavy, and with a long exhale he let himself fall back into the soft ground.
[Requirments reached for the skill; {Close combat (E) [Level 1/20]} ]
"Oh?"
Sam blinked, staring at the transparent blue screen like a fish pulled from the water. Then, slowly, a crooked grin stretched across his face.
"That's one thing I can do…"
Once his breathing steadied, he sat up—only for his stomach to growl like a starving beast. His eyes snapped toward the dead rabbit, narrowing with the hunger of a wolf.
He pushed himself to his feet and grabbed the rabbit's horn.
His hands shook a little—not out of fear, but because of the sheer exhaustion of this small body. Still, he worked. Clumsy movements, rough cuts, unsteady grip. He had dismantled animals for the gang before, but never with such an tool.
Even so, he did his best.
By the time he finished, blood coated his hands, forearms, and the potato-sack shirt. The rabbit's pelt now hung over a low branch, dripping slowly in the orange light of the setting sun.
Sam wiped his forehead with his wrist.
"Now for the fire…"
He kneeled down, gathering dry twigs, bark, and thin branches. His fingers fumbled more than he liked—strength and endurance were obviously still trash—but he kept going.
The wind rustled through the trees, carrying the fading warmth of the evening. Shadows stretched long across the forest floor.
Sam struck stones together, sparks jumping weakly.
Again.
Again.
"Come on…" he growled through clenched teeth.
Another spark.
A faint curl of smoke.
He leaned close, blowing gently like he had seen the others do back in the slums.
A small orange ember flickered to life.
Sam grinned.
"There we go…"
Quickly, he tossed more dead wood into the growing flame until a beautiful, orange flicker spread its warmth in front of him.
The fire crackled softly, shadows dancing over the trees.
Sam picked up the rabbit meat lying beside him and pushed it onto the sharp tip of the horn, holding it above the flames. Slowly, the surface began to brown.
When the first layer crisped nicely, he blew on it and bit into the rough meat, chewing like he was gnawing on a piece of shoe leather.
"Still tasty…" he mumbled with a full mouth.
Even this tiny amount of food filled him with a warmth he hadn't felt in years... ‚no…agh! this memories! I can't hold them apart from each other!'
Once he finished the small portion, instinct told him not to sit beside the scent of blood at night.
He backed away from the little campfire, grabbing a burning stick as a makeshift torch, and quietly moved behind a large tree. His knees buckled the moment he reached cover, and he collapsed from sheer exhaustion.
The glow of the fire flickered between the leaves… and Sam was asleep before he even hit the ground properly.