Despite the pain of having a sword embedded into your side, you know that its better if you leave it be. Pulling it out will just cause the wound to bleed uncontrollably and you might cause even more damage if it’s not taken out carefully.

You take a step forward, wincing as the sword jolts painfully with the movement.

You try and grab it with your left hand as you continue to walk, hoping to keep it as steady as possible.

Moving towards one of your fallen water pouches, you pick it up and take a swig before bracing yourself and pouring it over the wound in an attempt to clean it.

You grit your teeth and let out a hiss of pain as the cold water burns into your side, but it accomplishes your task as it washes away most of the blood. Hopefully the smell won’t be enough to attract any predators.

Still, it would be best if you put some distance between yourself and the corpses of the goblins before something comes along. You go about picking through the corpses of the goblins for anything of value, taking several water pouches, a new spear, and a knife from your fallen enemies, all of which you somehow manage to tie to your waist in a crude imitation of the larger … goblin. You’re actually not sure if that’s what it really is, but decide that in the end it doesn’t matter.

You start walking, keeping an eye on your Status as you watch your health occasionally decrease significantly as the sword shifts ever so slightly.

You’re going to have to move carefully, but even then the sword needs to come out. You’re just going to have to figure out a way to do so without injuring yourself further.

Your mind searches desperately for a solution as you continue walking at a steady pace.

A familiar sound comes from above you, and almost on reflex you thrust out and up with the spear in your right hand, wincing as it causes the sword to move sharply in your side.

There’s a squeaking noise and you look in surprise at the Gicko squirrel embedded on the tip of the spear.

A blue box appears in front of your face announcing your kill and you begin to dismiss is before you stop and break out in a smile as you realize what you need to do. Level up.

If you can manage to pull out the sword just before you reach the next level, you should be able to heal from the wound it caused.

It’s only a question of whether you can last that long.

You continue walking at a slow pace, taking care not to jostle the sword too much. Occasionally you come across the odd Gicko squirrel or other creature, each of which you mercilessly slay. You don’t have the luxury of sympathy.

Progress is slow, but you know you can’t move faster than you already are. You rest whenever you’re health drops below half and, from your observations, you realize that your health recovers at about one point every forty seconds or so. It’s faster than the recovery rate of your Mana, and after reading over your Status a bit more and doing some mental math, you figure it’s based on your Vitality. You’re tempted to spend your Free Point to raise your health in the hopes that it will allow you to recover faster, but you resist the temptation. You’ve already set your course of action and, unless you have no other choice, you’re determined to stick to it.

Still, you’ll save the Free Point for now just in case.

You continue moving throughout the day, killing anything that comes across your path and you can’t help but feel a bit like a psychopath. Like one of those people who enjoys torturing animals. You know you’re only doing it for your survival, but it just strikes you as something gruesome, something ugly. You can’t help but be a little disillusioned with a world that encourages you to kill to get stronger. That doesn’t stop you though as the pain in your side is a constant reminder of your dire circumstances.

A few days pass and you’re finally on the brink of reaching the next level. You’re progress has been too slow for your liking but there was no helping it.

You spot movement coming from beneath one of the bushes and you stop moving and crouch low to the ground, ignoring the sharp pain from the sword in your side. You’re used to it by now.

You wait patiently for the creature under the bush to come out. A patience that, back in your old world, you would have been incapable of. But circumstances changes people and you’ve learned that you can’t always rush things.

You lift the spear up over your shoulder and ready yourself to throw it at the creature, even as your other hand grips the sword tightly, ready to pull it out. You need to time this properly, you can’t afford to make a careless mistake.

Minutes pass and a bead of sweat trickles down the side of your face, but you remain steady as you wait for your chance.

It comes suddenly, with no warning, as a small Gicko rabbit darts out from the bush. At that instance you act, pulling the sword out of your side with a might heave even as you release the spear.

You let out a sharp cry and your vision blurs for a moment, but practice has made your throw true as with a thud the spear pierces the Gicko rabbit and embeds itself in the ground.

You feel as if you’re about to collapse, but then in the next moment two boxes appear in your vision and a white light engulfs you.

You feel the pain in your side fade away as your skin knits itself anew and you let out a relieved breath.

You fall to the forest floor, your body finally relaxing for the first time in days as it’s finally free of pain.

When you’ve rested enough, you get to your feet with a smile on your face. You’ve done it!

Still smiling, you make your way over to the Gicko rabbit and you begin to inexpertly skin it and drain it of blood. The past few days have given you enough experience to know how to handle the small critters, a bit of experimentation allowing you to successfully remove its pelt almost intact.

You rest your spear over a shoulder, the Gicko rabbit tied crudely to your belt with a few vines, as you look down at the sword. It’s stained a dark red from your own blood, and you’re tempted to leave the cursed thing where it is. Your proficiency with the spear, meager as it is, is sure to be much better than your ability to wield a sword. Still, you decide otherwise. It might be worth something in the future and you clumsily strap it to your waist.

You add your two points to your Agility, watching with satisfaction as the number ticks up to twenty-five before you head off in search of some water to clean off yourself and your spoils.

Without a sword in your side, you pace increases and you find yourself moving through the forest with the practiced ease of a seasoned hunter. Not that all your abilities are quite there yet, but you know it’s only a matter of time … as long as you survive.

Weeks pass, you lose track of the individual days. You’re no longer sure how long you’ve been in this world. Your progress, both with your level and with your ability have slowed to a crawl. The small critters don’t seem to be giving you as much experience as they once were. You’re power strike has reached level twenty and his a new milestone, costing more than before. You’re worried that eventually its cost will become too much for you to bear and you’ll no longer be able to use it, but that’s a worry for the far distant future. For now you can still use it five time at full Mana capacity.

You continue your relentless journey through the forest, mindlessly passing the days as you kill your way through the dangerous woods. Long gone is the you that once hesitated to shed blood. The wilderness knows no mercy, only survival of the fittest, and you intend to survive.

Your daily grind continues. You’ve learned to spot small game trails and can now see the telltale signs of predators marking their territory. You’re not an expert, but you wouldn’t be ashamed to say you’re rather experienced. You’ve exchanged your tattered clothes for some hastily stitched together fur. It requires constant maintenance, but it’s better than nothing at all … or wearing one of the goblin’s loincloths. You shudder at the thought.

Level nine comes and goes uneventfully, the slight increase in Agility not seeming as apparent as it once did. Finally level ten is upon you and you can’t contain the feeling of excitement and fear that war inside you.

You’re finally reaching a different milestone in this new world. The goal the blue boxes gave you was to reach level ten, and you’re about to do just that. You’re afraid achieving the goal will be accompanied by a harder, more dangerous task, but you’ve been in the forest for so long now, with little hope of leaving it, that you’re just ready for something different. Something new.

You thrust your spear into the chest of a Gicko badger as it emerges from its burrow, killing it instantly, and you’re delighted as a blue box pops up.

You have leveled up!

Another box appears and your smile grows wider.

Chapter 1: The First Steps.

Reach Level 10 (Complete)

A moment later, just as expected, a third box appears. This one, however, is different then the rest. It gives you a choice. One that you suspect might have everlasting consequences on your future development.

Chapter 2: Deciding your future. Pick one of the following:

1) Leave the Gicko Forest.

2) Reach Level 20.

3) Master Power Strike.