Christopher shook his head. He could think about that later.

He directed his attention to the other stats. The one he was most curious about was the Breath Stat. Despite having ten points assigned to it, the effect of the Breathless Curse made it so there was a line striking through it.

You’ve lost your breath.

He unconsciously took a deep breath. Whatever it meant, he could breathe just fine. Christopher asked himself if it could be related to stamina, but it didn’t look right. His stamina was definitely worse than he remembered, but it was mostly due to being hospitalized for such a long time.

After Breath came the Might and Grace stats. He believed those were the most self-explanatory of all his stats. Might should refer to his physical strength, and Grace, even if not as straightforward, should be related to agility.

Since he hadn’t felt any change in his physical capabilities, he guessed that the base value of those stats was ten – the same as his Breath stat.

Christopher’s eyes rapidly scrolled through the runes in front of his eyes. Now that he thought about it, it was likely that all stats started with the same base value of ten points, and changed according to his synopsis. That being the case, it meant his Lazarus class had given him bonuses on Tome, Zeal, Blood, and Enigma.

He had already deduced that Tome indicated the number of epistles he could equip. Zeal, though not entirely clear to him, was a requirement to equip the Crimson Proof, so at the very least, he knew it was related to the epistles. The Blood stat, as he had already realized, functioned as a mana pool when he used an epistle.

That left only Enigma, which was exactly that, an enigma. He searched through the runes once more, hoping to find some clue, but to no avail. He could only hope to learn more about it in the future.

Christopher ignored it and moved to his last stat: Integrity.

It was by far his lowest stat. The first time he checked, he had five points, but after his encounter with the wolf, it had been reduced to a measly three points. Christopher wouldn’t have worried about it had it not been for the ominous message on the Resilient Soul burden.

[Resilient Soul]: A soul wrestled from the path of reincarnation amidst its tempering. It cannot be shattered easily, yet it is only a few steps away from becoming tainted. (-5 Integrity)

Christopher didn’t know what becoming tainted meant, but he’d rather not find out. He guessed he’d become tainted once Integrity reached zero points, so he would try to steer away from it.

He wasn’t sure what his touch had done to the monstrous wolf, but he would have to be careful with what he touched from now on. Until he learned to control his Breathless Touch skill, his Integrity stat would deplete rapidly.

Christopher sighed and dismissed the runes. He felt nauseated and sick, and his throbbing headache was getting worse by the minute. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the tree root. Outside, the frogs croaked joyfully, welcoming the rain.

Christopher didn’t sleep again that night. The noisy swamp nightlife and the fear that the water level would rise and flood the alcove kept him awake, and each time his body was about to give in to exhaustion and go into slumber, the image of a monstrous, four-eyed wolf, covered in bright, orange blood appeared in his mind, jolting him awake.

After hours of staring into the darkness, the morning finally came. It arrived shyly, the sun obscured behind the dark storm clouds. Its feeble light barely made it across the fog that covered the bog.

Outside, the rain finally stopped. Feverish, hungry, and thirsty, Christopher carefully exited the alcove with the Dead Man’s Stake in hand.

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The landscape hadn’t changed much. The same waterlogged soil, low, prickly yellow bushes, and leafless trees. However, there were now even more puddles than before, and some of them had grown in size and fused together, forming small ponds.

Dark shadows floated in Christopher’s sight, obstructing his vision. At first, he believed those to be part of the massive clouds of black-and-white-striped mosquitoes hovering above the stagnant water. But soon, he realized it was something else.

He squinted and blinked repetitively, trying to clear his sight, but to no avail. The shadows persisted, floating aimlessly in his vision.

Am I going blind? Christopher asked himself. That realization only made the gravity of his situation more pressing.

Christopher glanced at his wounded arm. It no longer bled, but the flesh was red and swollen, and its inflamed edges burned. It oozed with orange, foul-smelling pus and appeared to be crusting.

It’s infected.

He considered using Crimson Proof to speed up his recovery but decided against it. He felt weak. Exhausted. He had not drunk or eaten since he almost bled out. He would most likely pass out if he tried using Crimson Proof again.

Christopher readied the Dead Man’s Stake and moved forward. He didn’t like the idea of wandering aimlessly through the swamp, but he needed food and water—fresh water, not the foul puddle water full of mosquito eggs and parasites.

He trudged through the rough terrain. The thick fog made it easy to get lost, and he didn’t want to move far away from the alcove. It had kept him safe and dry during the night, and unless a miracle came along and saved him today, that was where he planned to spend tonight, too.

Where can I find food and water in a swamp?

Christopher had camped a lot in his youth, but he’d never had to forage for food before. If he were in a nice meadow or forest, he might be able to recognize some of the plants. On a swamp, however… He knew he had little to no chance of finding something edible.

Maybe this was divine retribution. Punishment for what he had done. Were it not for the mysterious message, he would have laid on the floor and waited for death to come to him. But knowing that there was a chance of Christine being alive, he would fight until his last breath to make it out of this place.

A painful laugh escaped his lips. Baiting him with hope was a cruel but effective strategy.

As he advanced, the mosquito clouds grew in size. Attracted by his festering wound, they surrounded him, covering his body with their black and white stripes. If this continued, he would soon be sucked dry.

Christopher stopped by a muddy puddle and glanced at the putrid water. Doing his best to ignore the smell of putrefaction, he took a handful of slimy mud and brought it towards his face.

He closed his eyes and spread the disgusting mud on his face. Once fully covered, he repeated the process on his exposed limbs and neck.

It was gross, but it should protect him from the mosquito bites.

Not too far away from the puddle was a large leafless tree. One of its wide, gnarly branches had broken god knows how many years ago, and its half-rotten stump was now exposed to the elements. The rot would continue spreading, and one day, the whole tree would die.

Christopher observed it and noticed a concave-like basin forming in the middle of the trunk, just beside the rotten stump.

He walked towards the tree and used his arms and legs to pull himself upwards. Fortunately, the tree wasn’t too tall and was full of bumps and nodes he could easily use to climb, even with his injured arm.

As he reached the top, a big smile appeared on his face. As expected, the shallow depression had collected rainwater, forming a miniature pond. Some moss and small plants were growing around it, colonizing the top of the tree, but the water was clean.

Christopher didn’t hesitate. Cupping his trembling hands, he brought the water to his mouth. The first sip was bliss, cooling his parched throat, and as soon as he gulped it down, he went for more.

He drank as much as he could until the depression was empty and sighed with relief. Now, with clearer thoughts, he analyzed his situation.

I have to go back to where I first woke up. He realized. Whoever brought him here would’ve left a trail behind. He didn’t like the idea of approaching the place where he had met the monstrous wolf again. But, if he could find tire tracks or signs of someone’s passage, he could follow them to safety.

Naturally, the existence of the magical system could mean no one had dropped him in the swamp. He might have just appeared out of thin air. Nevertheless, it was the best idea he had for now. And he had to be fast. With the heavy rainfall, whatever tracks remained would soon be erased forever.

Christopher climbed down the tree and moved towards the alcove. From there, it should be easier to track his steps.