Jolting awake in an unfamiliar environment can be deeply unsettling. But nothing quite compares to the sudden assault of a Skallabjörn while ensnared in the clutches of sleep. With the fire's protective glow diminished, its embers cooling, the lingering scent of a recent meal seemed to have drawn a pair of the creatures up the trail. They likely hadn't expected to stumble upon a man nestled in an odd bag, with only the silvery gleam of an axe near his extinguished campfire for company. The tandem attack of the Skallabjörn, capitalizing on Sinclair's vulnerable state, dealt significant damage as he lay unsuspecting on the ground.
System Message - Damage Received
-15 Blunt damage
-18 Blunt damage
System Message - Status Debuff - 2 Cracked Ribs. Time remaining 30 minutes
Wincing from the searing pain, Sinclair mustered enough strength to roll, snatching up his axe and swinging it at the closest assailant. The blade struck true, landing just behind the creature's ear, dispatching it instantly. But as Sinclair attempted to rise, the anguish in his ribs flared, sending jolts of agony through his torso. Off-balance and weakened, he became an easier target for the remaining Skallabjörn, which lunged at him for another vicious strike.
System Message - Damage Received
-8 Blunt damage
-2 Fall damage
With labored movements, Sinclair managed to extricate himself from the tangle of limbs and dirt, his next swing aimed and calculated. Determinedly, he brought the axe down, ending the Skallabjörn's frenzied assault. Breathing heavily, he collapsed back to the ground, each inhalation sending jabs of pain through his battered body. "What a horrendous way to start the day," he muttered, half-jokingly wishing for a refund on such a rude awakening.
The prospect of being immobilized for half an hour due to his cracked rib debuff wasn't appealing. However, the situation demanded a pause. Gently turning on his side, he reached for his water container, taking careful sips to soothe his parched throat. He also nibbled on some jerky from his supplies and a few pieces of the meat he'd prepared the previous day. The sustenance wasn't lavish, but it was revitalizing.
Allowing himself some respite, Sinclair's thoughts drifted to his stats. Curious to see any progression after his rude awakening, he summoned his stat screen, expecting minor changes. To his surprise, the results looked rather promising.
Name: Sinclair Hagerson
Race: Human
Level: 0 (2)
Rank: F
Path: None
Class:
Health 310
Mana 240
Stamina 340
Strength: 37
Agility: 27
Constitution: 31
Intelligence: 24
Willpower: 27
Endurance: 34
Luck: 22
Available Points: 10
Sinclair was far from reaching the status of a demi-god. However, by Earth's standards, he was undoubtedly on par with some of the world's strongest men. The flip side of this newfound strength was its perceptibility. He was bound to appear even more massive in the eyes of his friends. He was just going to tell them when he got back. No more dawdling over it.
As the timer on his debuff dwindled, Sinclair decided to use those fleeting moments to meditate. Initially, he was skeptical of the skill, dismissing it as somewhat whimsical. But with each session, he began noticing a palpable sense of rejuvenation. The minutes he spent in meditation did yield tangible benefits. Once the debuff cleared, he sprang to his feet, stored his belongings to the side, and readied himself for the impending challenge: navigating the treacherous field with that vexing stone, all while evading the relentless assault of those irksome Boneheads.
The subsequent five hours were intense. It was an exercise in resilience and fortitude to amass enough strength and endurance to handle the Legendary Stone. This next step was a one-shot opportunity; if he chose to lift the last stone, the previous one would vanish. He'd then be left with the choice of either aborting the quest for an Earth Day or returning home to train further. The thought of the latter was unappealing, especially given the time dilation. Wasting three potential training days just because he couldn't tackle this initial challenge was not an option he was willing to entertain.
Base Stat Changes
+8 Strength
+5 Endurance
Sinclair felt a thrill as he ran his hands over the surface of the Legendary Stone. He'd been waiting for this challenge, an opportunity to test his limits truly. He was built for moments like these. Challenges arose, and he would conquer them, time and time again. It was in his nature. A sense of unwavering calm washed over him, leaving him with an unshakable confidence. A heat bloomed in his chest filling him with energy. Strengthening his limbs and fortitude.
Crouching, he carefully positioned his hands beneath the stone, seeking that perfect grip. As he exerted force, the rock resisted before slowly beginning to rise. Its weight was staggering. Sinclair did the rough conversion from kg to lbs and realized it was almost 460 lbs. He could feel every tendon in his arms stretching, adjusting to the immense burden. After a moment, he stood tall, holding the enormous stone he'd previously believed was impossible to even roll, let alone lift.
Upon his first step, Sinclair quickly realized an issue he hadn't anticipated. The bulk and heft of the stone forced him to tilt slightly backward for equilibrium. This position restricted his sight and the pressure it exerted on his chest, which hindered his breathing. Ahead lay a monumental task, and Sinclair considered that he might end up invoking his Æsir Resilience skill, even if it meant shaving off some health. An inner voice urged caution, but he was steadfast, believing his recent augmentations would be enough.
Steeling himself, Sinclair murmured, "One step at a time." Venturing into the grass, he fixed his gaze, intent on maintaining a firm grip on the stone and balancing its weight. Every inhalation became a conscious effort, but he remained unwavering in his resolve to cross the field.
His initial adversary, in an attempt to obstruct his path, only succeeded in knocking itself senseless. With Sinclair's stance anchored by his enhanced strength and the stone's weight, the creature's assault felt like it had collided headfirst into a solid oak. He silently prayed this stroke of luck would persist. Unlike his prior ordeal with the Rare Stone, this time, his stamina plummeted at an alarming rate. A mere fifth into his journey, and already sixty stamina points were spent. Brief respites to regain his breath restored only a scant amount of stamina but helped stave off its rapid decrease. The sheer physicality of the challenge was beyond anything he'd ever faced.
Lost in his thoughts, Sinclair endeavored to focus on the mental conversation rather than the escalating strain of his mission. By the midpoint, a pair of the little monsters had zeroed in on him. Their lackluster vision became apparent when one simply lost interest, meandering off—a tiny blessing for which Sinclair was inwardly grateful. Handling just one of these creatures was already a tall order. With stamina precariously hovering around two hundred and forty points and health dwindling by forty-eight due to the relentless Boneheads, each progressive step seemed to challenge not just his physical prowess but also his very willpower. Yet, with each challenge, he sensed growth—strength and agility born from adversity.
A whimsical thought bubbled up: What if I could keep this boulder? Imagine the workouts! Bolstered by this idea, Sinclair's determination was unwavering. He would carry this behemoth of a stone across the entirety of the field without once relinquishing his grip. Somewhere during this journey, a mental paradigm had shifted. Breaking for rest wasn't an option; he was now irrevocably committed to completing this arduous task in a singular effort. It wasn't merely personal pride at stake—he felt compelled to show the enigmatic force that had thrust him into this ordeal that placing faith in him was not a lost cause.
With each determined step, Sinclair felt the persistent pummeling on his legs intensify. Brief sightings of relentless, blood-smeared creatures darting to and fro stood as a testament to their persistence and the accumulating harm they meted out. Yet, yielding wasn't part of Sinclair's DNA. Fueled by sheer determination, he was consumed by a single aspiration: to proclaim that he had shouldered the colossal stone across this expanse on his maiden trial, enduring every drop of sweat, every speck of blood, and every ounce of agony.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Sinclair's stamina bar was perilously low, blinking a warning. The increasing throng of attackers had him encircled, their relentless strikes reverberating through his weary legs. The warm sensation of his own blood, trickling down and pooling within his shoes, produced a discomforting squish with every determined step. It was a chilling reminder of his dwindling health—now reflected by the alarming crimson hue on his status screen.
But the finish line beckoned—so close yet so agonizingly far. A peculiar energy began to coil within him, manifesting as a pulsating warmth in his core. Pain, blood loss, fatigue—all seemed to blur against the backdrop of his augmented capabilities. Summoning every ounce of remaining strength, he lunged forward with a climactic effort, thrusting the massive stone beyond the grassy finish line. The resulting thud echoed, causing the Boneheads to skitter back into their verdant hideouts.
Exhausted, Sinclair collapsed beside the immense boulder, drawing ragged breaths. Tears mingled with sweat carved trails down his dirt-streaked face—a testament to the torment he had endured. His trembling muscles threatened to seize up, betraying the toll of his ordeal. That was... brutal, he mused internally. Towards the end, his stamina had bottomed out, compelling him to expend his remaining health. A mere moment longer, and he might've been forced to abandon the stone, relying on the system's auto-evacuation to spare him a grisly fate. Though he reveled in challenges, Sinclair recognized the need for caution in gauging his own limits. The persistent blinking of notifications beckoned. He had acquired stats and new skills, and there was a system message awaiting his attention.
Base Stat Changes
+8 Strength
+3 Agility
+5 Constitution
+2 Intelligence
+9 Endurance
+3 Luck
New Skill - Punching Bag (Uncommon) - You are able to absorb more damage.
Effects:
1. +5 Endurance
New Skill - Pain Tolerance (Uncommon) - Physical pain is more easily tolerated.
Effects:
1. Reduced pain sensations 10%
System Message - Level UP!
When humans level up, they receive five free points to spend and one automatically assigned to Willpower and Endurance. To level up, please assign your points.
System Notice - You have cleared the first of three challenges to prove your strength and power. +100 Experience, +30 silver, 1 Golden Chest. Will you continue y/n?
After a thorough examination of his status updates, Sinclair couldn't help but marvel at the transformation. A sensation akin to an adrenaline surge coursed through him—except it lingered, stoking the fires of newfound power within his veins. His once-average physique was now the embodiment of Herculean might. The skin that once easily bruised now had the taut resilience of aged leather, and every muscle fiber appeared to have magnified in density. Every step he took now, once light and inconspicuous, seemed to resonate with a palpable weight, imprinting the ground beneath. Clearly, reaching a stat threshold of 50 was more significant than he'd anticipated.
His contemplation was interrupted by the golden glint at his feet. The small chest, so out of place amidst the verdant landscape, seemed a tangible testament to his endeavors. The effortless manner in which the lid sprung open at his touch only deepened his intrigue. The contents, though modest in appearance—a gold ring and leather pouch—promised potential power or utility.
Picking up a leather pouch, he felt a slight heft to it, suggestive of something within. The strings, intricately braided, held the pouch's mouth securely shut. Curiosity piqued, he gently pulled at the strings, revealing a collection of coins. Pretty standard-looking silver coins, considering what he was expecting from a medieval setting.
His attention then shifted to the ring. It was gold or really shiny brass, he didn't really know the visual difference. It had a hammered texture. When slipping it on his left index finger he wasn't sure it was going to fit at first until it opened slightly and accommodated his finger. Normally he hated hand jewelry, but this ring felt like nothing was there.
Unable to resist, he decided to analyze the items further. He was sure they weren’t just decorative trinkets—they had a purpose, and he was eager to discover what that was.
1x Money pouch - Attach this to your waist to carry your money. The item has been upgraded to Soul Bound due to the difficulty of the trial being completed. Contains 30 silver as a reward for trial completion. Do you wish to soul bind this item y/n?
1 x Merchants Ring - This ring is a spatial storage device. It can store up to 250 slots. The item has been upgraded in capacity and Soul Binding has been added due to the difficulty of the trial being completed. Do you wish to soul bind this item y/n?
With each careful observation and touch, Sinclair's appreciation for the two artifacts grew exponentially. For someone who had marveled at the mysteries of magic and the allure of artifacts through screens and pages, holding genuine enchanted items was an overwhelmingly surreal experience. The simple act of rolling the bag between his fingers elicited a sense of wonder that he hadn't felt since childhood.
The functionalities of these items, while deduced through intuition and gaming knowledge, were yet to be tested. The hope that the Merchant’s Ring could store more than its apparent volume, perhaps even with preservation qualities, was an exciting possibility. If it did, it would eliminate several challenges he'd face on his journeys. The implications of such an asset were vast.
As the last tendrils of pain receded and his strength returned, Sinclair's exhaustion remained evident. The ordeal, both physical and mental, had taken its toll. Yet, the adrenaline of the moment, the excitement of discovery, kept fatigue at bay for just a while longer.
Binding the items to himself was as simple as selecting yes on the menu, he felt an almost imperceptible tingle, a sensation of connection. The pouch on his waist, and the ring now snugly secured on his index finger, felt like natural extensions of himself. He was pleased to note that he could adjust the pouch position on his belt, customizing it to his comfort. Thankfully, the ring had melded into his skin. He wondered if that was because it was soul-bound. Either way, he was not fond of jewelry, so it was nice not to have to worry about it.
Drawing a deep breath, Sinclair contemplated his next moves. Rest was essential, but the allure of exploring the potential of his newfound treasures was equally enticing. Would he succumb to curiosity or heed his body's plea for respite?
He needed more meat for the future. His body needed a lot more fuel than he expected it would need. He figured he might as well get that here and clear out some more of these Skallabjörn as a final act of vengeance. He was going to have nightmares about tall grass and bone domes. He refilled his water bottle with water he had boiled. No sense in wasting the bottles when this was just the first of four trials.
When Sinclair attempted to loot the creatures, nothing appeared on the ground as before. Puzzled for a moment, he tried to recall the mechanics of his newfound items. He knew that inventory brought up a picture of him and his equipment. When he tried it now, there was no difference. On a whim, he thought of the word 'storage,' and to what should have been no surprise, a screen materialized with fifty grid squares. Scanning the screen, he noticed tabs at the bottom. Accessing these, he discovered four additional pages of squares, totaling the expected 250.
Transferring his gear into this digital storage was surprisingly intuitive. Each item responded to a mere mental command, moving seamlessly into the inventory. With his gear secured, Sinclair sat down, letting the ambiance of the fading sunset wash over him. It was a poignant moment as he contemplated whether he'd ever witness such a sight again. Opting to rest on the spot for the night, he was astounded that even after such an exhausting day, mere hours sufficed to rejuvenate him.
Surveying his status, the progress he'd made was evident. Although still at level 0, his accumulated titles, rigorous training, and honed traits had boosted his stats by an impressive 163 points. However, an imbalance was emerging. Most of his enhancements leaned towards physical prowess. In the days ahead, he resolved to prioritize speed, agility, and mental acumen in his training. After all, he didn't aspire to be just a muscled warrior; he sought versatility. A broader skill set, he reasoned, might afford him a wider range of class options when the time came. Still, he could only speculate on the game's intricacies.
Musing to himself about when he could actually take a class, he clicked on Class to see if he could do anything with it. A small box popped up, overlaying his main screen.
Class Choice is not available.
Please complete tutorial
Sinclair pushed the lingering questions to the back of his mind. With only seven days left in this virtual world and a clock ticking down, there wasn't time to ruminate. Besides, he had to ensure his food supplies lasted. Selecting the command to proceed, he found himself outside the house again. The once-glowing Uruz door, his initial portal, now appeared dormant, its aura extinguished.
Surveying the other doors, uncertainty crept in. If the first trial was an indicator, then he had a vague blueprint of what awaited him. But he also knew better than to assume every challenge would be similar. The very nature of trials was to test adaptability and mettle in various circumstances. And the next door might just surprise him. Would he be ready? Only one way to find out.