From earthling to legendary

oh fuck

The pop culture reference his brain had conjured—the product of a diseased mind raised on TV commercials—forced him to remember the one part of his Character Sheet he'd been studiously ignoring.

The Active Skill Do Not Go Gently, which would undoubtedly come in handy the next time a wolf decided to munch on him, was a Skill that left him feeling ill as he considered the ramifications that its name implied.

"Do not go gently into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

It was a fairly well-known poem back on Earth, and had featured prominently in several popular pieces of media.

And that was the problem—unlike everything else he'd encountered before being thrown into whatever this new world was, that Skill was very specifically a reference to Earth.

Something like Tough Skin was generalized, but Do Not Go Gently was a dead giveaway that the system that governed his RPG mechanics was aware of Earth, alluding to it, and potentially an accomplice to whatever force had plucked Rob from his home.

"…yeah, I can't deal with this right now."

Rob collected his sword and gave his body a good stretch.

"There will be plenty of time later to ruminate on how messed-up this situation is. Right now I should focus on not fucking dying."

His tunic was more or less a lost cause. The right sleeve had been torn to shreds by the wolf, and even after the impromptu wash that the rainfall had given it, it was still caked with stained blood. There were more parts that were reddish-brown than blue at this point.

He could deal with it for now—the climate in Ixatan Forest was relatively warm, so he didn't mind going shirtless. And if nothing else, he could tie up his tunic into a carrying bag and still get some use out of it that way.

Once he'd resolved himself to his new lack of a wardrobe, Rob got down to brass tacks and wrote a mental to-do list.

First order of business: more food and water, he planned.

Second: more Experience. Killing the wolf had taken him from zero to well over Level 2.

His Character Sheet didn't give him any hard numbers to go by, but if he concentrated on himself he could get a sense that he was close to the next level. About… 70% of the way there?

All he had to do was bridge that 30% gap, and that would be 5 more stat points he could invest into not dying.

And so, with the lingering sense that what he was doing was pretty morbid by Earth standards, he set out to kill some things. Smaller things, this time.

—

The frog went squish.

Rob grimaced. That was the fourth one, and he felt like a little bit more of a dick every time.

Wandering through the forest had given him the opportunity to stock up on supplies, so the trip hadn't been a waste of time, but his efforts at gaining more Experience had yielded poor results. There was nothing around except the occasional frog, and killing them barely gave him any EXP.

It was like trying to fill a cup of water several drops at a time; even if the cup was mostly full, that last inch to the top was going to take eons.

He had the impression that the only reason this was even remotely working was because he was low-Level and close to Leveling up.

Come on. I'll take anything between a frog and a wolf. Maybe a raccoon or a fox is somewhere nearby?

He peered through the trees, looking closely for the slightest signs of movement.

Your watchful eye grows ever slightly more watchful! You have been awarded 1 Perception!

Passive Skill Gained!

Name: Foraging

Prerequisite: Perception 10, spend at least several hours hunting for food and water in the wilderness.

Description: Gain an instinctive sense for where food and water are located when out in the wilderness.

Passive Skill Gained!

Name: Hunting

Prerequisite: Perception 10, spend at least several hours hunting animals in the wilderness.

Description: Gain an instinctive sense for where fresh game is located when out in the wilderness.

Rob's eyebrows rose. Aside from the much-appreciated stat bonus, each Skill he had learned had bumped his EXP total up by a decent amount. He was really close to Level 3 now—any small bit would push him over the edge.

And the knowledge he'd gained was equally as important. If learning Skills gave EXP, then it was likely that upgrading Skills improved EXP as well, which gave him something to focus on in-between smushing innocent wildlife.

Both of those skills showed up as soon as that extra Perception point put me at 10, he considered. Is that a milestone of some sort? Wonder what other Skills I potentially 'own' but just don't have the stats for yet.

He rounded a tree and stopped short. After hours of searching, he'd finally located the Holy Grail.

Name: Squirrel

Level: 3

Status: Infected

Description: A common rodent that can thrive wherever trees and nuts are.

It wasn't a fox or a raccoon, but a squirrel would do just fine. And the fuzzball was higher-Leveled than him, which would be good for his EXP gains even if it did damage to his Pride stat.

Rob slowly raised his sword above his head. The squirrel was perched on a branch about six feet away, merrily munching away at a berry, its back turned to him.

While it hadn't noticed him yet, the slightest sound or movement would alert it to his presence, which ruled out getting into melee range. He'd have to throw his shortsword and hope for the best.

Considering how sharp the blade is, my aim doesn't need to be perfect; just good enough.

Here I go. Just have to take my best shot and let my sword fly pure and true. One squirrel should put me over the top…

…it's really cute and fuzzy, though…

The squirrel abruptly turned to face him. Twitching red eyes bore holes into his own, its pupils glowing brighter with every passing second. Drool dripped down from its slack-jawed mouth and onto the forest floor as a bone spur sprouted from the top of its skull.

Name: Frenzied Squirrel

Level: 3

Status: Infected, Frenzied

With an ear-piercing screech, it leapt across the six-foot gap in a single bound and dug its tiny teeth into Rob's uninjured arm.

"AAAAH! WHAT THE FUCK?! WHY?!"

Rob positioned his arm and threw his full body weight into a tackle against the closest tree.

The squirrel went squish.

Enemy Defeated: Frenzied Squirrel

Reached Level 3!

5 Stat Points Gained!

Adrenaline and a surge of euphoria sent his body into a mild shaking fit. Rob scraped the mass of blood and fur off of his arm and gulped audibly.

"T-take that. Now who's Level 3? Not you, cause now you're L-Level 0. Bitch."

The jitters subsided as he took deep breaths.

"Christ almighty, what is this place?"

He'd had a plan, he swore he did. Fantasizing about Level 3 all day had given him plenty of time to decide what to do with his freshly-baked stat points when he finally got them.

He wasn't going to spend the points willy-nilly; not when he still didn't know what would be best to invest in.

Until he had a literal wizard in front of him explaining how spellcasting worked, Magic and Mind were too much of a risk to increase. Strength or Dexterity seemed like stats that he needed to boost his odds at surviving in the short term. Maybe even Endurance or Perception. Those both seemed like excellent stats for traversing through a forest.

He would have to experiment with the system a bit further, figure out the specific properties that each stat governed, and make an informed decision from there.

It was a good plan, he'd thought.

But no plan survives contact with the enemy.

"Haven't seen this kind before," he said aloud. The previous berries he'd encountered had been shaped mostly like grapes; this one was more of a weird oblong.

"Works for me. I'll go insane if I have to eat the same thing all the time."

He popped the new addition to his menu into his mouth and perked up a moment later. The berry had a vibrant citrus-y flavor to it which was distinct from the other kinds he'd foraged. He swallowed with a smile, already plucking the next one from its bush.

Passive Skill Gained!

Name: Poison Resistance

Prerequisite: Vitality 20, receive poison damage at least once.

Description: Gain resistance to the damage caused by foreign, damaging substances in your body.

"Oh fuck.”