[System]: Warning! A predator of Rank F has detected your presence!]
The red text pulsed in time with the frantic, terrified thumping of my tiny wolf heart.
A predator of Rank F. Not F-minus. This thing was, according to the omniscient cosmic scoreboard, objectively better than me.
Fantastic.
I flattened myself against the dirt floor of the den, trying to use the corpse of my dead mother as a macabre little meat shield. Too morbid? Sorry, my survival instincts were kicking in, and they didn't have much time for social etiquette. My nose, which seconds ago was a finely tuned instrument of bug-detection, was now being assaulted by the predator's stench. It smelled like a dead fish that had been left in a puddle of gasoline.
Slowly, a head poked into the den's entrance.
It was a lizard. A really, really ugly lizard. Its skin was a mottled, slimy green, like pond scum that had achieved sentience. Its eyes, perched on the side of its head, were bulbous and black, resembling a pair of rotten grapes. A forked tongue, the color of a wet party streamer, flicked in and out of a mouth packed with far too many needle-like teeth.
It took one look at the scene—one dead adult wolf, two dead cubs, and one terrified, trembling fluffball—and I could practically see the gears turning in its walnut-sized brain.
Jackpot.
[Analysis] skill activated automatically due to [Reincarnator] title.
[Species: Venom-Spit Skink]
[Rank: F]
[A cowardly scavenger that prefers weakened or dead prey. Possesses a weak paralyzing venom it can spit at short range.]
Oh, great. It had ranged attacks. I had… fur.
The skink took a confident step into the den, its claws clicking on the stone floor. It was bigger than me, longer and heavier, with a low-slung body built for slithering through the undergrowth. Its gaze flicked from my dead mother to me, clearly sizing up which appetizer to start with.
I had two options.
Die.
Don't die.
I was leaning heavily towards option two.
My human brain, bless its panicky little heart, was screaming at me. Run! Hide! Play dead! But my new wolf instincts were whispering something else entirely. Something darker and far more aggressive. Threat. Enemy. Bite the throat.
The skink decided I was the easier meal. It lowered its head and hissed, a sound like air leaking from a punctured tire. It was a classic intimidation tactic.
My response was to let out another pathetic yip. It wasn't intentional. My body just produced the sound on its own, a high-pitched squeak of pure, unadulterated terror.
This, apparently, was all the invitation the lizard needed. It lunged.
It wasn't fast, but I was clumsy. I tried to scramble back, my paws slipping in the dirt. The skink's open mouth, a stinking cavern of doom, closed in. Time seemed to slow down. I could see the individual droplets of saliva clinging to its teeth. I could see the muscles in its neck tensing for the killing bite.
There was no master plan. No brilliant tactical insight. I just did the only thing a cornered animal could do.
I dodged. Badly.
I threw my weight to the side, tumbling over myself in a move that had all the grace of a dropped laundry basket. The skink's jaws snapped shut on empty air, clicking inches from my tail. But its momentum carried it forward, and its scaly side slammed into me, sending me skidding into the hard-packed wall of the den.
Pain. So much pain.
A red notification seared itself into my vision.
[-4 HP!]
[HP: 6/10]
Almost half my health, gone in a single, sloppy body-check. My ribs screamed in protest. If this was a video game, I would have already rage-quit and thrown my controller.
But this wasn't a game.
The skink, annoyed that its meal was fighting back, turned its ugly head. It hissed again, this time with real anger. It was preparing to strike for real.
Lying there, gasping for breath, my human mind finally caught up with my wolf instincts. A plan, fragile and incredibly stupid, began to form. I couldn't outrun it. I couldn't out-muscle it. But I had one advantage.
I was smarter. And this den was my turf.
The space was cramped. The skink was bigger and less maneuverable. It thought I was just a terrified, helpless cub. Classic newbie monster mistake.
I needed to lure it in.
I pushed myself to my feet, my legs trembling. I let out another whimper, this one deliberately pitched to sound even more pathetic. I stumbled backward, deeper into the narrowest part of the den.
The skink's rotten-grape eyes followed me. Greed and confidence radiated off it in waves. It saw a wounded, cornered meal. It didn't see a trap.
It slithered forward, its body filling the narrow passage. It had to twist awkwardly to fit.
Perfect.
Now for the second part of my incredibly stupid plan. Every RPG, fantasy novel, and monster movie I had ever consumed had taught me one, universal truth.
Go for the eyes.
The skink lowered its head for the final strike. I saw its throat bulge slightly. The paralyzing spit. It was now or never.
Just as it opened its mouth, I didn't retreat. I lunged.
I poured every ounce of my pathetic Rank F- energy into this one, desperate leap. My paws found purchase on the den floor, and for a glorious split-second, I was airborne. I wasn't a clumsy, stumbling cub anymore. I was a missile made of fur and fury.
The skink was completely surprised. It was expecting me to cower, not attack. Its reaction time was a fraction too slow.
My jaws, small as they were, clamped down on the side of its head. My teeth, sharp little needles of bone, sank into the softest, most vulnerable target I could find.
Its bulbous left eye.
There was a sickening, wet pop.
The skink shrieked, a sound so high-pitched it made my own sensitive ears ache. It thrashed wildly, slamming its head against the stone walls of the den, trying to dislodge me. My world became a chaotic blur of pain and impact.
[-2 HP!]
[HP: 4/10]
[-1 HP!]
[HP: 3/10]
I held on. My life depended on it. Hot, foul-smelling blood filled my mouth. The skink's struggles grew more frantic, more desperate. It was blind on one side, panicked, and stuck in a space too tight for it to properly fight back.
This was my only chance. I bit down harder, channeling every bit of my measly Strength stat into my jaw. My master plan was, essentially, to bite it really, really hard.
[-1 HP!]
[HP: 2/10]
My vision was starting to go dark at the edges. My body was screaming. Just as I thought I was going to black out, the skink's thrashing weakened. Its movements became sluggish, then sporadic. A final, shuddering tremor ran through its scaly body.
Then, it went still.
Its dead weight slumped to the floor, nearly crushing me beneath it. I spat out a mouthful of blood and whatever else used to be its eye and scrambled away, my body a symphony of agony.
It was over.
For a long moment, I just lay there, panting, my entire body shaking with adrenaline and exhaustion. Then, the most beautiful sound I had ever heard echoed in the silence of the den.
A soft, heavenly ding.
[You have slain a Venom-Spit Skink (Rank F)!]
[You have earned 25 EXP!]
[Level Up! You are now Level 2!]
[All stats +1. HP and MP fully restored.]
[You have 2 Stat Points to allocate.]
[Due to performing a desperate, life-threatening attack on a vital point, you have awakened a new skill!]
[Skill Acquired: Vicious Bite (Lvl. 1)]
Description: Your next bite attack deals 110% damage and has a small chance to inflict [Bleed]. Cost: 2 MP.
I stared at the cascade of blue boxes, a giddy sense of relief washing over me. I did it. I actually did it. I had survived my first real fight.
My HP bar was full again, the aches and pains already fading into a dull throb. I felt… stronger. Not by much, but the difference was there.
I pulled up my status screen.
[Character Sheet]
Name: Unnamed
Species: Wolf Cub
Rank: F-
Level: 2 (0/100 EXP)
[Stats]
HP: 15/15
MP: 7/7
Strength (STR): 2
Agility (AGI): 3
Endurance (END): 2
Intelligence (INT): 2
Wisdom (WIS): 2
Stat Points: 2
[Skills]
Vicious Bite (Lvl. 1)
[Titles]
[Reincarnator]
It wasn't much. I was still a pathetic fluffball in the grand scheme of things. But looking at the dead lizard, its blood staining the floor of my home, I felt a flicker of something new.
Hope.
Two stat points. A new skill. A full stomach waiting for me, if I could bring myself to eat a giant, ugly lizard.
Two points. It wasn't much.
But it was a start.