Christopher’s legs threatened to fail him as he slowly backed against a tree, his eyes glued to a spot in the fog.

He couldn’t see it yet, but whatever creature was lurking, he could feel it right ahead of him, invisible to his eyes.

A second guttural growl echoed ahead of him. Its vibrations disturbed the nearby puddles and the fog before Christopher. A shadow appeared as the fog weaved into turbulent patterns, and Christopher finally glimpsed the creature ahead of him.

A massive, monstrous wolf covered with long dark fur slowly approached until it was only a couple of feet away. It lowered its head towards Christopher’s, meeting his gaze with four glassy, lifeless eyes. Disgusting, orange drool dripped from his mouth.

Christopher froze in terror.

The wolf growled once more, showering Christopher with its putrid, rancid smell. It revealed rows upon rows of dark, crooked teeth. They covered the entirety of its mouth in a macabre, grotesque display. Those teeth were not made to kill but to rip and slice. To tear the wolf’s prey apart. To tear Christopher apart.

Christopher’s legs failed him, and he slid down against the tree trunk. He was covered in sweat, and his body froze, refusing to obey his commands. He could feel the wolf’s primal ferocity washing over him, overpowering any courage he believed to have.

He is my punishment. Christopher convinced himself.

Punishment for what he had done. He had been cast into hell and fated to perpetual suffering. To be torn apart over and over again until the end of time.

And yet, when the monster struck, he found his powerless body resisting, fighting against the justified, unavoidable doom he was fated to suffer. The wolf raised a seven-clawed paw, striking at his chest, and Christopher raised his arms in a pathetic attempt to shield himself.

Pain. So much pain.

Three deep, bloody gashes appeared on his right arm. The wolf’s razor-sharp claws easily sliced through his flesh before scraping against the bone. Unable to endure the hit, Christopher jerked backward against the tree trunk. He felt an aching pain on his head, and warm liquid drenched his back. In his mouth, he could taste the unmistakable metallic tang of blood.

The monstrous wolf approached, confident. Its mouth open wide, aiming for Christopher’s neck.

She lives. Find the exit.

He repeated that sentence in his mind, drowning out the aching pain in his head and the burning pain in his right arm. The wolf’s snout was now so close he could discern the minuscule pores on it.

Christopher raised his left arm. He knew he was powerless against the monstrous wolf, but his instinct forced him to struggle until his last breath.

He grabbed the fur on its neck, a futile attempt at holding the creature back before it sank its teeth into his neck. Despite exerting all his strength, the wolf’s snout kept moving forward, disappearing from his vision.

It will be over in a moment, he thought.

You’ve used Breathless Touch. -1 Integrity.

Bright, white runes floated in Christopher’s vision, overlapping the wolf’s figure, and the wolf shivered as a whimper escaped its lips.

You’ve used Breathless Touch. -1 Integrity.

A feeling of exhaustion washed over Christopher, and his vision darkened. Barely able to maintain consciousness, he fell forward as the wolf jumped back in fright, breaking their contact.

It howled painfully, its fierce demeanor now replaced by suffering.

As Christopher’s vision cleared, he took a good look at the wolf. Now that its frightening aura was dispelled, he noticed a few things he hadn’t before. He could tell the wolf wasn’t doing so well despite its monstrous appearance.

It had protruding bones jutting out under its skin, and Christopher could easily see the monster's ribs sticking from the sides despite its long fur. Where its left rear leg should have been, there was only a bloody stump. The wound festered with small, tumorous growths.

And the most horrifying of all was a deep gash that cut across its lower abdomen. Hanging from the wound was a mess of dark blood and entrails that dragged through the ground, leaving a trail of dark blood behind.

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It was a wounded, sick monster struggling for life.

Christopher watched as it trashed on the ground, splashing mud, blood, and a thick, viscous liquid everywhere while numerous tumorous growths spread throughout its body. Whatever Christopher had done, it unleashed a painful torment upon the creature.

He didn’t dare to wait for the final outcome. Despite his shaky legs, Christopher rose and rushed through the swamp as far as he could, leaving behind the suffering wolf, trashing in the mud.

Christopher didn’t make it very far. His muscles and stamina were stunted from all his time in a coma. To make his situation worse, with each step he took, he could feel his body weakening. The wound on his arm ran deep, and he was bleeding intensely.

Nearby, he found a small dirt mound hugged by a large, twisted root, which formed a small, hidden alcove.

He wasn’t sure if it would be enough to hide from the wolf, but he knew he couldn’t keep going anymore. Soon, he would bleed to death. Without hesitation, Christopher crawled into the alcove.

The musky scent of dirt entered his nose as he nestled against the muddy soil. Christopher removed the jacket he had tied on his waist and used strength and one of his teeth to rip off one of the sleeves. He tied it tightly just below his shoulder, finally managing to stem the bleeding.

Not much light entered through the alcove, but as the flow of warm liquid slowed down, he knew he would no longer bleed to death, at least in the next hour.

Despite being exhausted, Christopher's mind worked tirelessly, trying to find a way to get out of this situation. The wounds on his arm were so deep the bone was exposed. It would be impossible to close the wound without a first aid kit. And even if he found a way, it would surely get infected.

How am I supposed to cross this swamp in this state? Christopher cursed at his own ingenuity. With that monstrous creature prowling around, even if he wasn’t wounded, it would be difficult to make it out alive.

With a thought, he summoned the runes again. After inadvertently using the Breathless Touch, his Integrity was now reduced to a measly three points. Whatever becoming tainted meant, he was now one step closer.

Ignoring the ominous thoughts, he read through the rest of the runes. A second one was added below the initial stat block.

[Equipment]:

* Lazarus’ Robe

* Dead Man’s Stake

* Crimson Proof Epistle

“It really is like a game!” He almost shouted out loud. He didn’t doubt it for a moment. After facing the monstrous wolf, his world and beliefs had been turned upside down. Who knew if he was still on earth?

And yet, a moment later, Christopher furrowed his brow and dropped his shoulders. Even if Cristine were still alive, he would never be able to see her again, now stuck in a gamelike world.

However, reasoning rapidly came to him. She lives. Find the exit. Someone had left that message for him—it must mean it was possible to return.

Christopher focused his attention on the first item on the list, the Lazarus’ Robe. As he did, a small string of runes appeared in front of him:

A simple gray robe. It's used to cover a dead body before its burial.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting—perhaps a strong magical armor that could get him safely out of the swamp—or just regular armor. No matter how sharp the wolf’s claws were, he doubted they could cut through metal.

Do you wish to equip it?

The white runes reformed into a question. Curious, Christopher mentally agreed to it.

A moment later, he felt a weight falling over his body with a small ruffle. Looking down, he saw himself wearing a gray linen cloth, awkwardly fashioned into a loose robe.

He was amazed by the magic-like system that allowed him to wear those robes with a thought. However, the robes were too warm to wear on the swamp. Since there was no prompt to unequip the robes, he resorted to using a commanding thought, and as expected, the robes disappeared.

Too bad the robes were useless. Disappointed, he looked at the next item on the list.

[Name]: Dead Man’s Stake (Very Rare)

[Type]: Consumable (1 use remaining)

[Description]: Gift a creature’s breath to the Breathless one, and he shall bless you in return.

Its description was ominous, but Christopher could read between the lines. It should be a one-use trump card, something he could use in a pinch.

Do you wish to equip it?

Christopher accepted the prompt, and a moment later, a long piece of twisted wood, awkwardly fashioned into a sharpened end, appeared on his left hand.

If the wolf ever returned, he wouldn’t have to fare against it with empty hands. But deep down, he wished he wouldn’t have to use it.

Finally, he moved to the last item on the list.

[Name]: Crimson Proof (Common)

[Type]: Epistle

[Description]: Bestowed upon the inferiors by Ariadne herself, this sacred gift draws upon their very lifeblood to replenish the wounds of the flesh.

It serves as a testament to the power within mortal blood.

[Requirements]: 12 Zeal, Mortal Blood, 1 Slot

Christopher read through the vague description twice. He seemed to have stricken the jackpot! As far as he could tell, Crimson Proof was a healing skill, which was exactly what he needed right now.

Do you wish to equip it?