Ars stared at the unconscious wolf. The monster wouldn't stay unconscious forever. He had to leave. But his gamer instincts, honed over years of experience, screamed: "Loot!"
Ignoring the throbbing pain in his ankle, he crawled closer to the wolf's head. No inventory menu appeared automatically. There was no "Take Loot" button. This was brutal reality.
He searched around and found a piece of rock with a sharp enough edge. Reluctantly, he began to work. The process was disgusting and much more difficult than it looked in games.
Warm blood stained his hands, and the pungent smell made his stomach churn. After several minutes that felt like an eternity, he managed to break off one of the wolf's large fangs.
He didn't have the strength to take any more. He tore a piece of cloth from his tunic and wrapped the jagged fang, storing it in his pants pocket. It might be useless, but it was his only trophy and weapon at the moment.
Using a sturdy tree branch as an emergency cane, Ars forced himself to stand.
Every pressure on his sprained ankle sent waves of pain through him. He had to move, get away from this place before the wolf regained consciousness.
He began to walk slowly, aimlessly, just trying to create distance. The forest around him felt alive and threatening.
Every rustle of leaves made him jump. He was no longer Nael, the game conqueror. He was Ars, a weak and wounded wanderer in a deadly world.
After walking for nearly an hour, passing through increasingly dense trees, he reached the top of a small hill.
He stopped to catch his breath, leaning on his staff. And that was when he saw it.
Far on the horizon, piercing through a thin layer of clouds, stood a tower.
The tower was unlike any man-made structure he had ever seen. It appeared to be made of soft, glowing white marble, so tall that its peak disappeared into the sky.
Its design was elegant and ancient, with no visible windows or balconies, only a smooth surface that rose toward the sky like a god's finger.
The tower radiated an aura of power and mystery so strong that it could be felt even from a distance.
It was the only sign of "civilization"—or something else—in that endless green ocean. A destination. A beacon in the midst of ignorance.
Ars's heart pounded. He didn't know what the tower was, but he knew one thing for sure: he had to get there. It was the only hope he had.
With his gaze fixed on the tower in the distance, Ars forgot his pain for a moment and continued his halting journey. The mystery of the tower had given him something more valuable than strength or weapons: a destination.
The sun began to set, turning the sky into a palette of orange and purple. Ars' journey was much slower than he had hoped. His ankles had swollen to twice their normal size, and every step was torture.
The forest, which had previously only been threatening, now felt truly deadly as shadows lengthened and strange sounds began to echo among the trees.
He knew he wouldn't survive in the open. A gamer's top priority in survival mode is to find shelter.
After several desperate searches, luck—or perhaps the lingering influence of The Fool—led him to a small crevice between large rock formations. It was more like a hole than a cave, but it was large enough for him to crawl inside and hide from view.
Inside, the smell of damp earth and darkness greeted him. He sat leaning against the cold stone wall, finally allowing himself to feel the overwhelming exhaustion.
His body trembled, not just from the cold, but also from the lingering adrenaline and sheer fear.
Here, in the silence and temporary safety, his mind began to work. He had to understand what was happening, understand his powers if he wanted to see the sun rise tomorrow.
He pulled out the Gloomfang Fang wrapped in cloth. The item felt real, heavy, and sharp in his hand. The system notification earlier proved that some of the "game" rules still applied. But what about the rest?
"No experience points," he whispered to the darkness. Defeating the wolf, even in an unconventional way, should have given him EXP. But his status panel hadn't changed at all. He was still a Wanderer without a level.
This meant the progression system in this world was different. Maybe there were no levels at all.
Then, how would his [Unlimited Potential] manifest? Was it just a poetic phrase to say he could learn anything if he had the time—time he clearly didn't have?
His thoughts turned to [Arcana Shift]. The banana incident.
At first, it seemed like a cruel cosmic joke. But now, after his panic subsided, he began to analyze it from a gamer's perspective.
"The effect is random," he muttered. "But... is it really random?"
He replayed the incident in his mind. He was cornered, his legs injured, unable to run. The wolf was about to pounce. What was on his mind at that moment? What was his most urgent desire?
And what did he get? A banana. A harmless object. But 'the effect'? A very slippery banana peel. A trap that literally made him 'fall' and 'stop'.
Ars felt a shiver down his spine. Maybe his ability wasn't entirely random. Maybe Arcana The Fool didn't give him what he 'asked' for, but interpreted his 'intent' in the most literal, most absurd, and most "foolish" way possible.
"Like a 'genie' who likes to play pranks," he thought. This power was far more complex than simply "get a random item." It was a conceptual power disguised as a joke.
It was terrifying and... incredibly intriguing. But with a six-hour cooldown, every use had to be carefully calculated. One mistake, one ambiguous intention, and he could end up with a bucket of confetti when facing a dragon.
A burning thirst pulled him back to reality. He hadn't drunk since arriving in this world. Water was the next priority.
That night was the longest of his life. Every sound outside the cave made him tense. Distant howls, the squeak of strange insects, and mysterious rustling in the bushes kept him awake.
He clutched the sharp Gloomfang Fang to his chest, the only small comfort in a world that felt like it wanted to devour him.
This wasn't a game, where the night could be skipped with a single click. This was a real struggle, hour by hour, against the cold, thirst, and fear of the unknown.