A golden window blinked into existence before Tristan's eyes on the top—7,823 skills—and a search bar at the top center, beckoning him to type, to explore. "Seven thousand… seven hundred… how the hell do I even start?"
"You can choose one rank skill, one rank, one rank, and two from
Tristan swallowed, his nerves tightening. "One of each rank… okay, focus, focus." He scrolled, brows furrowing, hovering over names and descriptions. Every line made his head spin, seeing all those rank skills made him unable to choose.
"Is there a time limit?" he asked finally, voice trembling.
"No."
A relief he didn't know he needed washed over him. "Good. No rush. Let's think."
Hours bled into each other. Eyes stung. Fingers cramped. But he didn't stop. Clicking, hovering, weighing each option. Finally, a smile crept across his face, shaky but triumphant. "I chose those."
Hours bled into each other, his eyes burning from the strain and his fingers aching with every stiff movement across the interface. Yet he didn't stop—clicking, hovering, weighing each option until at last a shaky but triumphant smile broke through. "I chose those."
---
[Name: Skill Crafter]
[Rank: ]
[Type: Active]
[Cost: MP or materials consisting of energy. The amount depends on the skill's rank and description.]
[Cooldown: 10 Years]
[Description: Can create rank skills.]
---
---
[Name: Adaptive Body]
[Rank: ]
[Type: Passive]
[Cost: None]
[Cooldown: None]
[Description: The user's body and mind gradually adapt to any physical or mental condition over time, becoming increasingly resilient and resistant.]
---
---
[Name: Swift Heal]
[Rank: ]
[Type: Active]
[Cost: 10 MP / 1 minute]
[Cooldown: None]
[Description: Can heal non-lethal injuries and fresh wounds efficiently.]
---
---
[Name: Inventory]
[Rank:
[Type: Active]
[Cost: 1 MP per item stored and retrieved]
[Cooldown: None]
[Description: Has a space of 25 cubic meters.]
---
---
[Name: Danger Sense]
[Rank:
[Type: Passive]
[Cost: None]
[Cooldown: None]
[Description: Heightens the user's senses, allowing them to instinctively detect nearby threats and potential danger.]
---
"You sure?" The being's tone was neutral.
"Yes, I'm sure," he said, his voice trembling with a strange blend of exhaustion and determination.
"Hell yeah! If I can just stay safe and create some overpowered skills to keep me alive longer, I'll definitely grow stronger. Hahaha!" With that thought, a small, unnoticeable smug grin appeared on his face. Closing his eyes, he let himself savor the vision of a future only he could see.
The being noticed his smug expression and tilted its head in mild confusion. But dismissing it as nothing of importance, it murmured an incantation and cast its spell.
A pulse of light flared within Tristan's eyes. The world drained of color, shapes twisted into a blur—then everything went black.
…
In a dark forest surrounded by towering trees.
"Aa… shit, my head…"
He groaned, forcing his eyelids open. Towering trees stretched above him, shafts of sunlight cutting through the canopy. "Where the hell… how did I end up in a forest?"
Panic bloomed in his chest as
Ten minutes in, his calm was shattered. Legs pumping, he sprinted, each lunge desperate, lungs searing. "This has to be a dream… yeah, a dream." He pinched his arm hard.
"Tch… shit. Damn it… did that god send me here as compensation… or to kill me?. I can sense danger all around me." His thoughts raced wildly, tangled with regret and questions, as he ran toward the direction where his senses picked up less danger.
Sometime later.
The forest began to thin, sunlight breaking through gaps in the foliage. In the distance, dozens of slimes quivered, glistening in the light, and beyond them, dark caves yawned like open mouths.
Seeing them, Tristan sensed no danger. "So… are those slimes? The weakest mobs in any fantasy setting? Should I kill them and level up first…?"
Tristan turned back the way he had come and sensed an overwhelming amount of danger.
"No no I have to get out of here. It's far too dangerous."
…
One hour later, on a beach.
Tristan lay on the sand, broken inside.
"I am so fucked."
He was so shocked that he couldn't cry or shout for help.
He was sensing even more danger from the sea—giant sea monsters hunting each other far away, and Tristan's senses were telling him to run as far as possible, even though he couldn't see the monsters.
Tears began to slip from Tristan's stone face. He was so scared that no emotions were showing on it.
After more than an hour of silent crying and cursing the being, he used a stone to carve a crude tome in the sand, scrawling his name beside it. Finally, he pushed himself up and headed back into the forest.
…
While heading toward the spot where he had seen the slimes, he whispered under his breath with anticipation.
"Status."
"..."
"Log."
"..."
"Window."
"..."
"Skills."
The instant he thought it, a surge of knowledge slammed into his skull. He staggered, clutching his head until the chaos sharpened into clarity.
"... should I just die?" His chest rose and fell faster, and his eyes started to become watery. Even though he chose powerful skills, they are somehow weakened. It feels like there's a restriction on the skills, and there's also a feeling of certainty that he can use those skills to the fullest if he becomes powerful.
After a while of walking, He spotted a lone green slime chewing on grass.
Since he had no weapon, he searched around and found a tree branch nearby.
He scooped up the branch and stripped the leaves with trembling hands. His breath came in shallow bursts as he crept closer to the slime, lifted the branch high, and swung down.
The branch smacks uselessly against the slime's body, the impact rippling through its gelatinous form. It quivers, then suddenly leaps back to create distance before compressing tight and launching forward like a spring-loaded boulder.
Tristan's eyes widen in fear; his instincts scream at him to move, but he's too slow. The slime crashes into his chest, blasting the air from his lungs in a wet gasp as his body hurtles backward, spine crunching against the trunk of a tree.
"Aaah—" Blood flecks his lips as his vision swims. Desperation forces some last words from him. "
Light flickers weakly in his palm, pressed against the spot on his chest where the slime had struck, then he lost his consciousness.
The slime, convinced its attacker is dead, bounces back to the grass and resumes chewing in peace.