Chapter 4: Wolves and Willpower
POV: Viktor
Viktor woke to the sound of breathing that wasn't his own.
His eyes snapped open in the pre-dawn darkness, every instinct screaming that something was wrong. The forest was too quiet—no night birds, no rustling of small creatures, just the kind of absolute silence that meant something with teeth was nearby.
He lay perfectly still, trying to locate the source of the breathing. There—to his left, maybe ten feet away. Slow, steady, the kind of controlled respiration that belonged to a predator sizing up its prey.
Another sound, closer this time. A soft pad of footsteps on forest floor, deliberate and careful. Then another, from his right.
"Pack hunters." The realization hit him like ice water to the spine. "Wolves."
Viktor's hand moved slowly toward the sharpened stick he'd taken to sleeping with—a pathetic excuse for a weapon, but better than nothing. His fingers had barely closed around it when every hair on his body stood up at once, a sensation like being touched by lightning.
[PREMONITION SENSE ACTIVATED]
[DANGER DETECTED: IMMINENT THREAT - 3 SECONDS]
[RECOMMENDED ACTION: IMMEDIATE EVASION]
Three seconds. Three seconds to live or die, and Viktor's body moved before his mind fully processed the warning. He rolled sideways, away from his makeshift camp, just as something large and dark crashed through the space where his head had been.
Yellow eyes gleamed in the darkness. Fangs caught starlight like polished bone. The wolf that had missed its pounce landed in a crouch, already turning to track its escaped prey.
Viktor scrambled backward, his sharp stick held in front of him like the world's most inadequate spear. Two more wolves emerged from the shadows, completing a triangle that put Viktor at its center. They moved with the kind of coordinated precision that spoke of pack intelligence and lots of practice at killing things.
"Tree. Need a tree. Now."
The largest wolf—the alpha, probably—took a step forward. Its shoulders were level with Viktor's chest, and its head was easily the size of a small barrel. This wasn't some mangy scavenger; this was an apex predator in its prime, and Viktor was very obviously not.
The system had warned him with three seconds. He'd used two of them to dodge. That left one second to not die.
Viktor spun toward the oak tree he'd been sleeping under and leaped for the lowest branch with every ounce of strength his battered body possessed. His hands closed around bark, his feet scrambled for purchase, and for one terrifying moment he hung suspended between safety and becoming wolf food.
Below him, jaws snapped closed on empty air with a sound like a steel trap slamming shut.
Viktor hauled himself up onto the branch, his arms shaking from more than just exertion. The three wolves circled the base of the tree, looking up at him with what could charitably be called disappointment.
"That's right," Viktor gasped, trying to catch his breath. "Opposable thumbs, bitches. Evolutionary advantage."
The wolves were not impressed by his evolutionary superiority. They settled down to wait, arranging themselves around the tree with the kind of patient professionalism that suggested they'd done this before. Pack hunters understood that prey had to come down eventually.
Viktor looked at his situation with the cold clarity of someone whose adrenaline was starting to wear off. He was fifteen feet up a tree, armed with a pointy stick, facing three wolves who had nothing but time. His water was at the base of the tree. His food was at the base of the tree. His entire survival kit consisted of whatever he could scavenge, and most of it was currently under wolf supervision.
"This is fine," he told himself, settling more securely on his branch. "This is totally fine. Wolves are patient, but they're not immortal. They'll get bored eventually."
An hour passed. The wolves showed no signs of boredom.
Two hours. The alpha had actually taken a nap, while the other two kept watch. They were taking shifts.
Three hours. Viktor's hands were cramping from gripping the branch, and his legs were going numb. The wolves looked like they could wait all day.
Four hours. Viktor was starting to seriously consider the possibility that he was going to die in a tree, not from wolf attack but from exposure and dehydration. It would be an embarrassingly anticlimactic end to his transmigration adventure.
Five hours. The sun was fully up now, and Viktor could see his tormentors clearly. They were beautiful, in the way that efficient killing machines could be beautiful. All lean muscle and predatory grace, built for the kind of violence that kept the ecosystem balanced.
That's when Viktor had an idea.
It was a stupid idea. A dangerous idea. An idea that had approximately a five percent chance of working and a ninety-five percent chance of getting him killed in a very painful way.
But it was the only idea he had.
Viktor tested his grip on the branch, then carefully worked one of his hands free. There were rocks scattered around the base of the tree—good-sized stones that he'd been using for his training. If he could reach them...
He gauged the distance, calculated the angle, and made his peace with whatever gods might be listening.
Viktor threw his sharpened stick as hard as he could.
It wasn't aimed at the wolves. It was aimed at the rocks.
The stick hit stone with a sharp crack, bouncing off and clattering away into the underbrush. The wolves' heads snapped toward the sound, ears pricked forward with predatory interest.
While they were distracted, Viktor grabbed the next branch up and pulled himself higher into the tree. From this new vantage point, he had a better angle on the rock pile and, more importantly, on the wolves themselves.
He waited until all three were looking away, then grabbed a piece of loose bark and hurled it at the alpha.
The bark hit the wolf square in the head. Not hard enough to hurt, but definitely hard enough to annoy. The alpha spun around, snarling up at Viktor with renewed interest.
Viktor grabbed another piece of bark and threw it at the second wolf. Then another at the third. He was pelting them with forest debris, turning himself from prey into irritant.
The wolves were getting agitated. They paced around the base of the tree, whining and snapping at the air. Viktor kept up his barrage, throwing anything he could get his hands on—bark, twigs, pinecones, small stones that he managed to reach from his perch.
Then he got lucky.
One of his thrown rocks—a particularly good-sized stone that he'd put some real force behind—caught the alpha right between the eyes. Not hard enough to seriously injure, but hard enough to hurt.
The alpha yelped, shook its head, and took several steps backward.
Viktor threw another rock. This one hit the second wolf in the shoulder.
The wolves were no longer looking patient. They were looking frustrated, angry, and increasingly convinced that the strange tree-dwelling creature wasn't worth the effort.
When Viktor's next thrown stone hit the alpha in the ribs, the pack leader had apparently had enough. It turned and trotted away into the forest, tail held high in a gesture that clearly said this was beneath its dignity.
The other two wolves looked between Viktor and their departing leader, seemed to reach a collective decision about the cost-benefit analysis of tree-dwelling prey, and followed their alpha into the woods.
Viktor waited another ten minutes, throwing the occasional stone in the direction they'd gone, before he was satisfied that they weren't coming back.
When he finally climbed down from the tree, his legs were shaking so badly he nearly fell the last few feet. But he was alive, unbitten, and in possession of a new appreciation for the tactical applications of projectile harassment.
[ENCOUNTER COMPLETE: WOLF PACK DETERRED]
[EXPERIENCE GAINED: 15 SYSTEM POINTS]
[SURVIVAL STRATEGY: ENVIRONMENTAL ADVANTAGE]
[NOTE: NO KILLS REGISTERED - PACIFICATION METHOD USED]
[CURRENT SYSTEM POINTS: 100 → 115]
Viktor stared at the notification, feeling a mixture of relief and disappointment. He'd survived, which was the important thing, but he hadn't actually defeated anything. He'd basically won a fight by climbing a tree and throwing rocks until his opponents got bored.
"Tactical retreat," he told himself firmly. "Not cowardice. Strategic thinking."
But even as he said it, Viktor couldn't shake the feeling that he was developing a pattern. The drowner had killed itself. The wolves had been driven off through harassment. He wasn't winning fights so much as surviving them through luck, cleverness, and the occasional environmental hazard.
What would happen when he faced something that couldn't be deterred by thrown rocks? What would happen when he faced Geralt of Rivia, who definitely wouldn't be impressed by tree-climbing tactics?
Viktor pushed the thoughts away and focused on the immediate concern: his training schedule. The wolf encounter had cost him most of the morning, but there were still hours of daylight left. Hours he could use to push his body further toward the goal that seemed simultaneously impossibly distant and urgently close.
Days seven, eight, and nine blurred together in a haze of deliberate self-destruction that made his previous efforts look leisurely. Viktor threw himself into training with the kind of desperate intensity usually reserved for religious fanatics and people who'd made very bad choices.
He ran until his lungs felt like they were going to burst. He lifted rocks until his arms gave out completely. He did push-ups in the mud until his muscles simply refused to respond to his brain's increasingly frantic commands.
And something miraculous happened.
His body stopped fighting him.
Not all at once—this wasn't some dramatic transformation montage. But gradually, incrementally, Viktor began to feel like his flesh and bones were finally getting on board with the program. His runs became less like dying and more like controlled suffering. His weight training became less like torture and more like very aggressive therapy.
By day nine, Viktor realized he was actually getting stronger.
[ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: BEYOND LIMITS]
[Requirements Met: Exceed normal human training capacity for 72 consecutive hours]
[REWARDS: +0.3 STAMINA, +0.4 STRENGTH, 75 SYSTEM POINTS]
[STAMINA INCREASED: 4.4 → 5.1]
[STRENGTH INCREASED: 1.1 → 1.5]
[CURRENT MANA: 51/51]
[SYSTEM POINTS: 115 → 190]
Viktor stared at the numbers, hardly believing what he was seeing. 5.1 Stamina. 51 MP. He was more than halfway to his goal, and he still had five days left.
For the first time since waking up in this nightmare, Viktor felt something that wasn't quite despair.
Hope.
It was a dangerous emotion in a world like this, but Viktor found himself unable to suppress it. He was going to make it. Against all odds, against all reason, against the fundamental unfairness of the universe itself, he was actually going to reach 100 MP before Blaviken.
Of course, that was when he made his second mistake of the day.
He opened the System Store.
[SYSTEM STORE ACCESSED]
[CURRENT SYSTEM POINTS: 190]
[AVAILABLE ITEMS:]
[MINOR HEALTH POTION - 50 SP]
[Effect: Restores 25% HP over 10 seconds]
[MINOR MANA POTION - 75 SP]
[Effect: Restores 25% MP over 10 seconds]
[TRAINEE'S BLADE - 500 SP]
[Base: +5 ATK, Hidden: +1 AGI, 5% attack speed increase]
[HUNTER'S BOW - 500 SP]
[Base: +6 ATK (ranged), Hidden: +1 AGI, 15% critical hit chance]
Viktor studied the options, his mind automatically shifting into the kind of analytical mode that had served him well in his previous life as a software developer. He had 190 points to spend. Two potions would cost 125 points, leaving him with 65—not enough for any equipment, but enough to start building a safety net.
The smart play was obvious. Buy insurance. Stock up on consumables that could save his life when everything went wrong.
Viktor bought both potions.
[PURCHASE COMPLETE]
[MINOR HEALTH POTION x1 ADDED TO INVENTORY]
[MINOR MANA POTION x1 ADDED TO INVENTORY]
[SYSTEM POINTS: 190 → 65]
The potions materialized as small crystal vials that felt warm to the touch. The health potion glowed with soft red light, while the mana potion pulsed with deep blue energy. Viktor tucked them carefully into his belt, trying not to think about the circumstances under which he might need to use them.
As he settled down for another meditation session, Viktor found his mind wandering to uncomfortable territory. The wolf encounter, the store purchases, the way he was approaching this entire situation—it all felt very much like a game.
Gaining levels. Buying equipment. Managing resources and optimizing builds.
But this wasn't a game. The pain in his muscles was real. The hunger gnawing at his stomach was real. The fear that kept him awake at night, listening for sounds that might mean his death, was devastatingly, completely real.
"I'm treating this like a game because thinking of it as real life would drive me insane," Viktor realized. "It's a coping mechanism. A way to distance myself from the fact that I'm probably going to die."
The thought was both comforting and terrifying. Comforting because it meant he wasn't completely losing his grip on reality. Terrifying because it meant his grip on reality was probably the only thing standing between him and a complete psychological breakdown.
Viktor opened his eyes and stared up at the stars, barely visible through the forest canopy. Somewhere out there, Geralt of Rivia was sitting in a tavern in Blaviken, probably brooding over ale and the weight of destiny. Somewhere else, Renfri was planning her revenge, clutching her mysterious brooch and preparing to paint a marketplace red.
And here, in a nameless forest somewhere between nowhere and certain death, Viktor was lying on the ground, staring at numbers that floated in the air and trying to convince himself that any of this made sense.
"Five days," he whispered to the darkness. "Forty-nine MP to go."
The system interface glowed softly in his peripheral vision, patient as always. Waiting to see if its host would live long enough to be useful, or if it would need to find someone else to carry its burden.
Viktor closed his eyes and began to meditate, counting each point of recovered MP like prayer beads.
Five days.
He could do this.
He had to.
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