There was a path forward. He needn’t die in some horrific way, butchered like those campers. Still clutching the gem, It’s like a game!

“Just gotta grind some levels,” he said, sarcastically pumping a fist.

Looking at his arm, he did see that it no longer hurt. “I wonder.” He slowly peeled the sticky bandage away from his skin, wincing as a few arm hairs got caught.

It was healed.

He could see dozens of little scars, but they didn’t look recent. He felt fine. “Amazing.”

If something like this existed, what else was there? Was this a fantasy world with magic and dragons? Were there elves and dwarves? Were their other people from Earth here? Was his Nana here after all? So many questions…

Well, he wouldn’t find any answers here. Smiling to himself as he stood up, repacked and hoisted the bag over his shoulder. He couldn’t help but imagine throwing fireballs at those monstrous bastards. Ahh, happy thoughts…

It looked like he had a few hours of sunlight left. He turned and continued downstream: it was time to find a place to camp.

…

Adam found that having the crystal in his pocket, he had decided on calling it ‘skill crystal’, was a good idea. It wouldn’t activate through his jeans, but he could easily access it.

So, it looks like each level brings +1 across the board and skills give bonuses as well. Then having a high level would be nuts… or you could just have a ton of skills…

Adam mused as he walked. There were a lot of unknowns. Skills seemed OP, but could they degrade? Would you still be an expert swordsman if, say, you were eighty? If you lost your arms? Also, and this had been driving him nuts, what was the ‘Old Blood’? Unturning? They could mean a lot of things.

It was nice to have something to focus on other than just how crazy of a situation this all was.

After an hour of traveling, he was pulled from his thoughts. I’ve gotta start paying better attention. There was the sound of animals fighting around the next bend in the river.

He took a moment to set down his pack and ready his sword, then slowly creeped forward. Adam took extra care to avoid stepping on branches or loose rocks. I wonder if I’ll get a sneak skill…?

Cautiously peeking through a shrubbery in the bend, he spied two feral dog-like things fighting over a fresh kill. The two ‘demon’-dogs looked muscular and sleek, like dobermans. Their ears were even cropped and pointed, yet their dead, shark eyes would stop any would-be dog lover. Most striking of all, though, were their extremely long, snake-like tails, weaving through the air and tipped with barbed spikes.

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As he watched, the two beasts circled and stabbed at one another with their undulating appendages. Most strikes missed, but based on the two bleeding forms, many landed true. The two seemed evenly matched until one lashed with its tail and ripped into the other's neck. Black ichor stained the muddy ground. With a yelp, the wounded creature backed away before turning and running into the woods.

Moments later, the victor was noisily ripping through the pink remains of whatever they were fighting over. Now’s my chance.

Creeping up directly behind the beast, Adam readied his sword with his tried-and-true baseball grip.

The monster was blissfully unaware of its surroundings and Adam sprung for the fences. The tail, it seemed, was its deadliest weapon; without it the battle would be a sure thing. Easy. So, Adam lined up his swing with the serpentine appendage. Easily cleaving through the now quivering tail, the monster let out a yelp. The ‘demon’-dog turned and regarded him with deadly intent.

Adam readied himself for another swing. The beast darted in. He swung. It was a feint; strike one.

“Fuck.”

Now off-balance, the monster opened its may, revealing rows of needle-like teeth, not unlike the badger thing. It darted forward, sinking into Adam’s thigh.

“Gwurgh!”

The dog was latched on and attempting to dislodge a meal. Unsure of what else to do, Adam started smashing down with the pommel of his sword. The beast's head cracked. It let go and stumbled, clearly concussed.

“Fuck you!” Adam growled and swung, turning into the strike as much as his mangled leg would allow. The blade sunk halfway into the head of the monster with a wet “thunk”.

Again, a warm sensation blossomed within his chest as the beast's shark eyes glossed over.

Sweating and panting with exertion, Adam slumped onto the ground. “Sheesh, what are these things?” He asked, looking at the still writhing tail.

“Better have been worth it.”

He reached into his pocket and opened his stat screen.

Name: Adam Bolthaus

Race: Human

Level: 3

Class: None

Subclass: None

Strength: 12 (8 + 2 + 2)

Dexterity: 14 (11 + 2 + 1)

Vitality: 14 (12 + 2)

Intelligence: 16 (14 + 2)

Wisdom: 10 (8 + 2)

Charisma: 12 (10 + 2)

Skills: Long Sword [2] [C]:

Strength + 2, Dexterity + 1

Traits: The Old Blood: unturning

“Yeah… Not worth it.”