Kurai awoke with a startle having dosed of momentarily regardless of his reluctance to do so. Despite the ache in his bones, a wave of relief washed over him when he saw no sign of more of those twisted black creatures—only the hush of morning and the rippling burble of a nearby stream.

He took stock of himself: His kimono was in tatters, clinging to him in damp, torn swaths. His spear lay at his side, crusted with dried blood. The wounds along his arms and back still wept sluggishly, and a fierce sting gnawed at the rent in his shoulder. There was no chance he could go toe-to-toe with anything else in his condition.

With stiff fingers, Kurai closed his eyes and summoned the interface of the mysterious System, scanning for anything to keep him on his feet. A small, transparent list unfurled in his mind's eye—sections for weapons, armor, strange contraptions, and more. He ignored them, focusing on the single category that promised survival: Consumables.

He found it quickly:

"Basic Healing Potion - 350 Points."

He winced. That leaves me with only thirty… He hovered over the item for a moment. The next option on the list was a spear-like polearm, the shape suspiciously akin to a naginata:"Steel Naginata - 400 Points."

His gut twisted. A real naginata again—like returning to an old friend. But in his current state, a better weapon would mean little if he collapsed from blood loss.

He gritted his teeth and made his choice.

A sizzling rush of energy pricked at his mind, and in the next breath, a small glass vial materialized in his hand—its contents a murky, dark crimson fluid. A Basic Healing Potion, the label read in his thoughts. A cursory warning followed:

"This potion boosts the body's regenerative process. Repeated or frequent use will harm the body over time."

Kurai exhaled, carefully unstoppering the vial. With a single, measured tilt, he drank. The taste was metallic and bitter, like rusted iron left in the rain. Almost at once, a numbing warmth flooded his veins. He clutched his side as threads of pain unwound beneath his skin, the burning wounds cooling to a dull ache. His heartbeat slowed, and his breath came easier.

He leaned there for nearly half an hour, letting the potion do its work. In that time, he allowed himself only the barest motion—lifting his spear to check its edge, straightening his battered clothes where he could. Slowly, the deeper wounds scabbed over, and the raw tear in his shoulder knitted enough to restore most of his range of motion. He tried flexing his arms. The pain was still there, but muted.

At last, Kurai pushed himself upright. A faint dizziness danced at the corners of his vision, but he could stand. He pressed a palm against his torn side. The bleeding had all but stopped.

He glanced south-west —the route he believed would take him back to the river camp. A vision of Mira's worried eyes flickered in his mind, of Elias's stoic silence, of Theo's shaky determination, and even Jace's resentful glare.

Another man might return now, seeing life so newly spared, to ensure his companions' safety. Yet Kurai only closed his eyes, re-centering on the breath that left his nostrils in a soft, controlled exhalation.

They should have grown enough to keep themselves alive for now. And if they haven't… He banished the rest of the thought.

Instead, he turned deeper into the jungle. The fragile alliance he shared with those four was not something he could watch over endlessly. There would always be new threats: prowlers, other humans… or worse.

He glanced at the battered remains of his kimono, soaked through with dried blood and sweat. With a single, deliberate tug, he tore off the shredded sleeves and freed the cloth hanging loose around his shoulders. It left his upper body bare, lean muscles etched with fresh bruises and scars. He twisted the largest scrap into a rough sash at his waist, more practical for carrying small items than for modesty.

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Faintly, he could hear the rush of the river to the west—close enough for him to refill his water pouch and rinse away the worst of the grime. He paused by the water's edge, crouching to clean the dried blood off his hands and arms, hissing softly when the cool stream stung open cuts. His reflection looked back at him: tired eyes and a jaw set with grim purpose.

He took a long drink, then turned inland once more, retracing the blurred steps of the night before. Evidence of his previous battle marred the ground: scuffed earth, broken branches, dark splashes of dried blood. No bodies, though. Not a single corpse remained. Each place he distinctly remembered cutting down a foe was empty now, only red-brown stains left behind.

He frowned. Again.. Something is collecting their corpses.. Or some force of this realm removed them. Whatever it was, a prickle sense of foreboding accompanied the question.

He picked up his pace, pushing through a wall of broad leaves until the terrain opened up to a new stretch of jungle. And there, gliding between the shadows, he saw them again.

They were reptilian in shape—sleek, sinewy bodies all in black, scales that caught faint glimmers of sunlight. Their silhouettes reminded him at once of the prowlers and the chitinous humanoids: that same taut, efficient form, though twisted in a different manner. He wondered, not for the first time, how so many distinct monstrosities could all share such uncanny similarities. Different methods of hunting, different territories… but the same unnerving sense of design.

Whatever the answer, he wouldn't find it by standing around. Their presence promised points—strength.

Kurai tightened his grip on his spear, exhaled, and stepped forward to begin the hunt.

***

With little remaining of the day Kurai finally dispatched his eighteenth kill. He had started off cautiously, but as he adapted to these new reptilian creatures—and as the aether coursing through him grew stronger—his speed and efficiency soared. Each fallen beast yielded another ten points, a pattern that led Kurai to suspect there was a ranking system at play, much like the strict social hierarchy he had known under the Shogun, except this hierarchy seemed to be decided by the density of ones Aether. Now he felt certain he stood at least one tier above these particular creatures.

Deciding it was time to head back to camp, he bent to lift one of the corpses, intending to carry it with him. That was when he caught the faint sounds of combat: shouts and commands echoing through the dense foliage. Acting quickly, Kurai followed the noise. His speed so fast he seemed to blur through the different vegetation.

He soon came upon four people locked in battle against what appeared to be stronger versions of the reptilian monsters he had been fighting—a heavier presence of aether clung to them, reminding Kurai of the more advanced humanoids he had faced the previous day. In the thick of it stood a bronze-skinned man clad in rough leather armor, wielding an improvised knuckle-blade as he fought fiercely to shield his companions: a woman, a younger man, and an older man clutching makeshift spears much like Kurai's own group back at camp.

Despite the bronze warrior's clear combat experience—evident in his precise, confident moves—he was steadily being overwhelmed by the trio of hulking, scale-plated beasts. Kurai assessed the situation in a heartbeat.

With a single deep breath Kurai lunged from behind the nearest reptile, driving his spear up beneath its jaw. The weapon crunched through sinewy flesh, piercing vital organs with a wet crack. Shock flickered in the beast's feral eyes for the briefest instant—then its limbs went slack, and Kurai wrenched his spear free in a spray of blackish blood.

Before the second creature could react, he pivoted and delivered a crushing sideways blow to its head with the butt of his spear. Its skull snapped to the side, disorienting it for a heartbeat—long enough for Kurai to slam the spear's point into the thin gap under its scaled arm. The blow punctured deep, and the monster let out a rasping, animalistic shriek before collapsing in a heap.

Wasting no time, Kurai whirled toward the last monster, which had pinned the bronze warrior onto his back foot. The man's breathing came in ragged gasps, his knuckle-blade raised defensively. Kurai launched himself forward, spear angled low. In two quick strides, he closed the distance, following through with a forceful thrust to its exposed neck. The beast jerked once, claws slackening in mid-strike, then toppled forward.

Silence settled but for the rasp of labored breathing from the bronze-skinned man. The System's cold announcement echoed in Kurai's thoughts as he surveyed the fallen beasts:

"You have absorbed another creature's Aether. You have grown stronger. 20 points have been allocated."

Blood trickled from the tips of his spear, but Kurai held it steady, his gaze shifting to the panting man. With measured calm, he offered him a small nod.

"You fight well, warrior."

However, it wasn't the man in front of him that answered that statement. A squeamish voice was heard at the back of the group:

"Who-... Who are you?"