Bursting through the undergrowth, he emerged into a small clearing, the sight before him crystallizing in his mind.

Three humans, barely standing, fended off a pack of five ferocious wolves. One man lay crumpled on the forest floor, unconscious. The others, faces etched with terror and exhaustion, parried desperate lunges from the beasts.

Mark didn't hesitate. His gaze swept over the wolves, he cast identify – four level 4 beasts and a dominant alpha, level 5 He gripped the hilt of his sword, but a thought flickered in his mind. This was an opportunity, a thrill of experimental energy coursing through his. With a swift movement, he deposited it in his inventory.

A jolt of mana coursed through his veins, surging into his arms. He felt them thrum with a power he hadn't fully grasped. This was his chance to test the limits of his newfound strength.

A guttural snarl tore from the alpha wolf's throat as it lunged towards a struggling human, its razor-sharp fangs aimed for the man's exposed neck. In a heartbeat, Mark was there. With a focused surge of mana channeled into his arms, he unleashed a devastating punch.

The impact was sickeningly brutal. The wolf's head exploded in a crimson mist, its body crumpling to the forest floor in a heap of lifeless fur. A stunned silence descended upon the clearing. Mark stared at his hand, the faint tremor a testament to the raw power he'd unleashed. He hadn't anticipated such a brutal outcome. It was… overkill.

The remaining wolves, momentarily stunned by the alpha's demise, turned their bloodthirsty gaze on Mark. A snarl rippled through the pack as they charged. But for Mark, their movements were agonizingly slow. He sidestepped the first beast's lunge with effortless grace, his body a blur of controlled power.

He met each charge with a single, bone-crushing blow. The wolves, even the larger beta, were no match for his newfound strength. Their bodies crumpled one by one, leaving a gruesome testament to Mark's devastating power.

The realization was sublime. Since the trial's beginning, he had faced constant danger, constantly outmatched. But he had never truly understood the extent of his own strength.

Mark turned towards the humans, their wide-eyed stares a stark contrast to the carnage surrounding them. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Uh, hi there. I'm Mark." The silence stretched, thick with the aftermath of violence.

"Uh, hi there," he managed, his voice rough.

One of the men, a burly fellow with a thick beard streaked with grey, gave a hesitant nod. "John," he said, his voice gruff.

The other, younger and leaner, offered a shaky smile. "Tom here." He glanced at the unconscious man on the ground. "That's Terry."

Mark took in their appearances. John, despite his imposing build, bore the marks of hardship – deep lines etched on his face and weariness clinging to his eyes. Tom, on the other hand, seemed less weathered, but his youthful optimism was dimmed by the events of the day.

John cleared his throat. "So, about those cards..." He gestured towards where the wolves once stood. A moment later, Mark noticed something curious – the wolf carcasses had vanished, leaving only a pile of shimmering cards.

Confused, he walked towards them. "Yeah, yeah," he mumbled, kneeling and picking up a card. It was elaborately designed, depicting a snarling wolf with a numerical value of 4 in the corner.

Goblins, he recalled, didn't leave cards behind. This was another mystery he'd have to add to his ever-growing list.

He sighed, tempted to shove the cards into his inventory without a second glance. Then, a question stopped him. "Do you mind?" he asked the men.

John grinned, a flash of relief in his eyes. "Not at all. You were the one who took down those beasts. Bolu made a rule - whoever contributes most to a kill gets the cards. If you don't want them, or you've got enough already, then it goes to the next in line."

They still seemed hesitant, however. John and Tom exchanged glances, then John cleared his throat again. Mark couldn't help but wonder if he looked intimidating. He glanced down at himself. He was a mess. His leather armor, once pristine, was now a canvas of dried green blood and rips. Blood and soot caked his face, obscuring most of his features. The only clean part of him seemed to be his boots, which were themselves starting to show signs of wear and tear.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

Realizing his appearance might be causing their apprehension, he sighed again. "Alright, what is it?" he asked, his voice devoid of the usual warmth it carried.

Tom spoke up, his voice timid. "Would you… mind checking those cards? Maybe there's a minor healing potion for Terry?"

Mark skimmed through the cards, his eyes landing on a simple one with a picture of a green potion and a "4" in the corner. It was a common-tier healing potion, just what they needed. He tossed it to Tom, who caught it with a grateful nod.

Inspecting the remaining cards, he found a minor stamina potion (common) and a surprisingly sturdy-looking leather armor (uncommon). Tom fed Terry the potion, and a healthy flush of color returned to the unconscious man's face.

John, emboldened by Terry's recovery, finally asked the question that had been hanging in the air. "Who are you? I haven't seen you around in the past twenty-one hours. Granted, I haven't met everyone with thousands of us still around, but someone like you… well, you'd be hard to miss."

Mark hesitated. "It's a long story," he began, a hint of a weary smile playing on his lips. And it was.

Tom cleared his throat, his voice laced with a hint of apology. "You don't have to tell us your story if you're not comfortable, Mark."

Mark offered a curt nod, appreciating their understanding. "Thanks."

John's gaze shifted towards the horizon. "So, are you heading back to the safe zone? Maybe you could escort us back? We'd feel a lot safer with someone like you around."

“Sure, I can do that, how do you even find the safe zone from here?" Mark asked, realizing he'd spent the night lost in the goblin cave.

Tom squinted. "Look carefully, just past the tree line. You can see a faint shimmer in the distance."

Mark strained his eyes. With his enhanced senses, he could just barely make out a faint, wavering glow in the direction Tom indicated. "Right, I see it now."

They decided to wait a while longer, allowing Terry time to fully recover. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken questions. Finally, Tom blurted out, "So… how'd you get so strong?"

Mark grimaced. "Lots of killing," he muttered, his voice heavy.

The air crackled with unspoken words. John and Tom didn't press the issue.

After a long pause, Mark cleared his throat. "So, tell me about the safe zone. I haven't exactly been there since… well, since the safe zone came up, and why are you only level 3?" Mark asked, surprised. "No offense," he added quickly. "It just seems…well, weak.""

“Their surprise was evident. John furrowed his brow. "You haven’t been at the safe zone all this while?

Mark shook his head. "No, not really."

Neither of them took offense. John and Tom exchanged another glance. "It's the experience points," John explained. By level 1, you need to kill at least ten wolves. And hunting as a group doesn't help much. The experience gets split, and whoever does the most gets the most points."

"Typical" Mark muttered, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Work hard to earn any reward.”

Tom continued, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "Then by level 2, you gotta kill even more because the exp increases, and the exp you get from lower leveled creatures drops by 15%. Forces everyone to hunt higher leveled stuff."

Terry coughed, a weak sound. John stood up and checked on him, placing a hand on his forehead. Tom took a deep breath. "Not everyone gets the same stats either," he lamented. "Some have more unlocked than others, different ones too. And explaining how they work doesn't help unlock them. You gotta actually do things related to the stat for it to unlock."

Mark's mind raced. This information confirmed his suspicions about his own abilities. His stats were significantly higher, and he likely had all of them unlocked thanks to his bloodline.

"What are your average stats around here?" Mark asked, trying to gauge the extent of his advantage.

Tom scratched his head. "Most people are around 5 in their main stats, maybe 4 in others. But that's just an average."

A realization dawned on Mark. His stats were at least 2 points higher than everyone else. The power of his bloodline was undeniable. But what did it mean, and how would others react if they found out?

"Why aren't more people out here leveling?" Mark asked, his voice laced with concern.

John sighed as he returned from checking on Terry. "Fear, mostly. And with no real enforcement, people are hesitant. After the safe zone went up, Bolu gathered volunteers for a hunt. Hundreds showed up, but as soon as we entered the forest, we were ambushed. Wolves, chimera bear… a lot of people died during the retreat back into the safe zone."

A pang of sympathy stabbed at Mark, but he knew this world wouldn't offer much mercy.

"Terry might know more about what happened after that," John added. "He was called to a smaller meeting."

Terry coughed again, his voice weak. "There was an argument. Some people refused to go back out, wanted to wait and see what happened after the 24 hours were up. Some even thought it might not be bad."

Mark scoffed. "Worse, definitely worse."

"Catherine," Terry continued, "insisted we go out "...she spoke of a Patron telling them they needed to level up. It was a heated discussion, but ultimately, they said whoever didn't want to go out could stay in the safe zone and face the consequences."

Mark's brow furrowed. A Patron? He remembered bolu saying the same thing, another layer to this strange world. He filed it away, determined to learn more later.

"So, they either stayed put or formed smaller groups," Terry explained, his voice raspy. "It's still risky, but manageable. Most people in the safe zone are still level 1, clinging to the hope that maybe nothing will happen after 24 hours. Bolu and Catherine are the highest leveled, at 7. It's been rough, and things aren't going to get easier."

Mark nodded, absorbing the grim reality of the situation. He was starting to understand the desperation in their eyes, the fear simmering beneath the surface.

"Thank you for explaining everything," he said sincerely. "It seems Terry is recovering well, so I think we should head towards the safe zone."

John and Tom exchanged a grateful look. "We appreciate it, Mark. We feel safer with you around."

Mark offered a faint smile, acknowledging their unspoken fear. He wasn't sure how long he would stay with them, but for now, helping them reach the safe zone was the least he could do.

As they set off, the afternoon sun filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor. Mark walked in front, his senses on high alert, listening to the sounds of the forest.