Inside, it was surprisingly spacious. One large, open chamber stretched across the interior, with enough room to easily fit a bed and maybe even a couch, if he had one. A dim beam of light slipped through a seam in the fabric roof, revealing where he could pile gear and potions in one corner, while still leaving a generous area to stretch out and move around. For someone used to sleeping half-curled under a tarp next to a fire, it was borderline luxurious.
But Max had one thing on his mind: a bed. Something better than dirt and rolled-up clothes.
So, after eating a bit of jerky and checking his potion stocks, he set off again—this time back toward the goblin outpost. It had been nearly a day since he killed their leader. If they hadn’t regrouped by now…
He stayed cautious as he approached the crude spike barricade, but his instincts were quickly confirmed. Empty. Not a single goblin in sight. The fires were cold, the tents collapsed or half-burned. Someone had either called them back, or they’d fled entirely. No tracks. No warning.
Max stepped inside, picking his way over trampled dirt and broken bones. He found what had likely been the leader’s personal quarters and rifled through the remains. Near the back wall, tucked beside a broken crate, he found a makeshift bed—a rough canvas sheet stretched over a frame of bound sticks and stuffed with straw. Crude, but infinitely better than the ground.
He grunted. “Better than nothing.”
He also spotted a rusty pickaxe and shovel leaning against the wall, both iron-headed and splinter-handled. Probably forgotten during the evacuation. With no better use for them here, Max slipped them into his storage ring. Never know when I’ll need to dig or break something.
On his way back, two squirrels dropped from the trees like furry missiles. Mutated, of course—fangs and red eyes—but Max didn’t even flinch this time. A quick mana bolt fried the first mid-air, and a follow-up fireball charred the second into a twitching heap.
He stared down at the steaming remains and frowned.
I didn’t even hesitate.
The first time he saw one of those things, he panicked. It was a real threat. But now? He’d barely blinked. Just raised his hand and snuffed them out like an afterthought.
He kept walking, slower now.
Rodents are one thing. Wild animals, too. But goblins? Max rubbed at the scar under his shirt from the goblin knight’s dagger. They’re sentient. Crude, violent, even savage… but still capable of speech, organization, tactics. And I’ve killed dozens without batting an eye.
He felt a cold knot settle in his stomach.
Is this place changing me? Or was I always like this underneath, waiting for a reason?
He said nothing else the rest of the way.
Back at the camp, he brushed aside the willow’s curtain of branches and laid out the bed frame carefully in the back of the tent. It took a bit of adjustment to flatten the ground enough for the base to sit evenly, but once it was in place, he let out a long breath and dropped onto the straw-stuffed mattress with a dull thump.
It creaked. It smelled weird. It wasn’t comfortable.
But it was his. And for now, that was enough.
Max lay on the straw-filled canvas bed inside his new tent, staring up at the heavy folds of fabric above him. The flickering light of his campfire outside cast slow, undulating shadows across the ceiling, like ghosts dancing at the edge of sleep.
He was warm. Safe. Fed.
And yet, his body thrummed.
Not from exhaustion. Not entirely.
Something else had been stirring in him all day—something just beneath the surface. A pulse. A whisper. Like distant thunder echoing through his bones, growing louder each time he fought, killed, or pushed himself to survive.
The system hadn't said anything, but Max could feel it. Whatever rules governed this world, they were shifting around him. Reacting to him.
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“Is this what leveling up does?” he murmured. “Or… is this something else?”
His mind drifted over the past few days: the rats, the deer, the dungeon, the goblins… the mana in his veins, the fire in his hands, the instinct to dodge attacks before he saw them. He hadn’t just survived—he’d changed.
Was it the magic? Was it him?
He thought about the way his spells had become easier. How the healing spell had obeyed his touch so naturally. How the mana bolt hadn’t become a skill until later, even though he’d been using it for hours before.
Like… he needed to prove something. Reach some internal threshold before the system recognized him.
He turned on his side and curled under the coarse blanket.
Deep in his chest, behind the sternum, there was a warmth now. A strange pressure that wasn’t there before. It didn’t hurt. But it wasn’t normal.
Max didn’t know what it meant. Not yet.
But something inside him was waking up. And the system? It was watching.
Max woke with a start, heart pounding and a fire already burning in his chest.
He didn’t know why, but he felt it—like a wire pulled tight inside him. Not a thought, not even a feeling. A need.
Level Five.
He had to reach it. Now.
Throwing on his robe and strapping Spitefang across his back, Max hurriedly got ready to go. He downed the last of his water, stuffed a few jerky strips into his mouth, and set off toward the wilder side of the island—away from the goblins. Away from his camp. Away from any distractions. He was hunting.
The komodo dragon-like beasts from a few nights ago came to mind. Dangerous, but predictable. High experience. Easy to take down—if you avoided their bite.
He spent hours moving through underbrush and towering ferns, alert for movement or heat shimmering off scales. The air grew still, thick with the scent of salt and sun-warmed earth. The forest felt different here—quieter, older, more primal.
A squirrel darted across his path.
Max sighed. “Seriously. What is with all these damn squirrels?”
He pushed deeper.
Eventually, he found what he was looking for.
Two massive reptiles lay sprawled in a sun-drenched clearing, their thick, scaled bodies stretched out lazily on a bed of moss and rock. The same kind of creature that nearly took a bite out of him days ago. Komodo dragons—but with sharper eyes, bulkier frames. A little stronger than the one he’d fought before.
Good.
Max crept into position, careful to stay downwind. He summoned a charged mana bolt, funneled energy into it until it pulsed bright and volatile at his fingertips—and then hurled it.
BOOM.
The first beast never stood a chance. The blast struck it square in the skull, cracking bone and dropping it instantly.
The second dragon jerked awake, hissing.
Max flung a fireball—but the lizard lunged sideways with surprising speed, dodging the blast and rushing him in a blur of teeth and muscle.
“Too fast—!”
Max twisted, narrowly avoiding a lunging bite, and with a fluid motion brought Spitefang down in a brutal, arcing swing. The sword cut clean through the creature’s thick neck, the magic-forged blade slicing like a hot knife through meat.
The beast collapsed with a dull thud.
Max stood there panting. One shoulder scorched from where the lizard's breath had grazed him. Still not enough experience.
Gritting his teeth, he pressed on.
He wasn’t stopping now.
Four more dragons fell to his blade and spells over the next hour. One nearly caught him with a tail sweep, another forced him to retreat and regroup, but Max moved with single-minded purpose, pushing himself harder than ever before.
Then—ding.
A system prompt flared across his vision:
[Level Up – Level 5 Achieved]
Class Points allocated:
- +2 Intelligence
- +3 Wisdom
- +1 Vitality
+3 Free Points
Split Core Detected
Updating Race…
New Race: Traveler
Quest Notification: [Beast Hunt – Initiated]
The Beast has sensed your growth.
You have 5 days to locate and defeat it.
Failure to complete this quest will result in termination of the tutorial.
Reward: +5 Genesis Crystals
Tutorial Store Unlocked
Inner Tutorial Island Access Granted
Max blinked, frowning. “Split core?”
He touched his chest out of instinct, but nothing seemed different on the outside. Inside though—something… shifted. It was subtle. Like a slow vibration running deeper than muscle or bone. A thrum just beneath the surface of his awareness, like someone had plucked the strings of his soul.
He stood frozen in the forest, hand still resting on his sternum.
“Traveler…?” he muttered. “Is that my race now? What the hell does that even mean?”
Whatever the system had just done, it had changed something fundamental. Max couldn’t explain it, but he could feel it—like an extra gear turning inside him. He was different now, not just stronger, but… more.
His thoughts spiraled back to the challenge dungeon—specifically, the way he’d walked freely into the Warrior, Mage, and Healer training alcoves. Had that been normal?
He clenched his jaw.
“Did the system know back then too?” he whispered, voice low. “Was this already decided?”
A dull ache bloomed behind his eyes. He tried to shake off the growing headache, but the weight of it lingered. The world felt heavier now—more complex. More dangerous.
Still… He grinned. “Whatever it is… I guess I’ll figure it out.”
[Status Update: Max]
Race: Traveler
Class: Mage
Level: 5
- Vitality: 15
- Endurance: 14
- Strength: 12
- Intelligence: 21
- Wisdom: 25
He quickly put 1 free point into each Vitality, Endurance, and Strength.
Max whistled under his breath as the numbers settled in on his HUD. His Wisdom and Intelligence had shot up thanks to his class, and the Vitality and Endurance he’d been investing in made a real difference in keeping him alive. Still, he could feel the difference when swinging Spitefang—his strikes landed, but they lacked the weight he wanted behind them.
"Next time I level," he muttered to himself, flexing his fingers around the hilt of his blade, "I’m putting all points into Strength. It’s time I start hitting like I mean it."
He closed the status window with a nod, the resolve clear in his mind. The Beast was waiting—and Max would be ready.