The prices of the healing potion I needed.
Would the 100 gold coins I received be enough?
My eyes drifted back to the potion list, and I prayed. Gandalf please.
I decided to check the prices of other potions before the one I actually wanted to buy. To postpone the disappointment.
But the moment I saw the price of the first one, my hope curdled into despair.
[Mana Boost] — 300 coins
[Clarity Elixir] — 200 coins
[Strength Boost] — 150 coins
[Endurance Draught] — 300 coins.
Each one cost more than I had.
It was like staring at a restaurant menu when you’re broke, every option mocking you. Except this wasn’t hunger gnawing at my stomach—it was blood leaking from my ribs, dragging me closer to death with every heartbeat.
I sighed in defeat. I didn’t even have the strength to curse the damned system.
So I decided to check the price of the Healing Potion. To take the final blow.
[Healing Potion] — 100 Gold Coins.
Gandalf, you son of a bitch.
I didn’t think. I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t even read the description.
My trembling finger slammed the purchase, and the bottle blinked into existence in my hand—cool glass against burning skin.
I yanked the cork out with my teeth and downed it in one go.
The effect was immediate.
My HP bar, which had been sinking like a ship taking on water, steadied—then slowly climbed. The gaping wound in my side knit together slightly, hot pain cooling into a dull ache. Not healed completely, not even close, but enough. Enough to pull me back from the edge.
A shuddering laugh escaped my throat.
"Oh, thank the gods. I thought I was done for."
Strength seeped back into my limbs, shaky but real. I gripped Gravefang, wrenched it free of the stag’s skull with a wet squelch, and forced myself upright. My legs wobbled like a newborn deer’s, but I managed it.
"Alright," I muttered, swaying on my feet, each step jarring my sore ribs. "Back to the cave. Sleep it off. Maybe when I wake up, I’ll actually feel like a living thing instead of a corpse."
The thought of curling up in the dark and letting exhaustion swallow me almost felt blissful, but I had to resist.
If I passed out here, another predator would find me, and... well, I’d be the free meal.
I was just about to activate [Warp].
A glint. A shimmer. Two eyes glowing faintly in the trees.
I didn’t react. One had come earlier than I expected.
But I was done for the night.
I tried to trigger [Leap], desperate to return to the cave. To get the hell out before it attacked.
My chest tightened. My stomach plummeted.
I tried again. Still nothing.
I switched to [Warp]. Dead.
I turned toward the creature staring at me. Gulping, I activated [Analyze].
The system’s cold text flashed before my eyes.
[Ember Fox Matriarch — Level 102]
"What?" I whispered, blood turning to ice.
The name barely registered. My attention locked on the number.
That was absurd. Stupidly high.
Way... way... beyond me.
No wonder I hadn’t sensed it.
There wasn’t a whisper of mana leaking from its body, not a flicker in the shadows.
[Danger Sense] hadn’t even twitched.
But now—now it screamed in my skull. Sirens blared like I was standing in front of a collapsing mountain.
The fox stepped into view, silent as falling snow.
It was massive. Larger than the stag I’d just killed. Its body was sleek, terrifyingly graceful, fur glowing with a faint ember light, each ripple of muscle sending sparks through the night. Behind it, nine tails unfurled like whips of fire, curling lazily, radiating so much power the air itself warped.
My throat went dry. My knees buckled.
I tried [Warp] again, desperate.
The skill was dead. My ace, my lifeline, gone.
[You have been hit with a Skill Restriction.][All of your skills are temporarily on hold.]
"What?" My voice cracked. Panic clawed at me.
"No, no, no, come on!"
This couldn’t be real. That’s right—it was still an illusion.
I just had to wake up. Wake up, Eli. Wake up.
But the fox stepped fully out of the forest.
And then immense pressure crashed down on me.
So much that I was forced to my knees.
I spat blood as my wound tore open again.
The ember fox’s eyes glowed brighter, molten pools of hatred locking onto me. Then it spoke. A guttural rasp, thick with mana, grinding syllables like stone dragged over steel.
"You have five seconds... to tell me why I smell my child’s scent on you."
So they were related.
I knew that fox was going to bring me trouble.
The forest seemed to collapse inward. My heart pounded so hard it hurt. [Danger Sense] went berserk, every nerve shrieking: Run. Hide. Die. Run.
But there was nowhere to go. Nowhere safe.
The fox’s tails swayed, each one humming with the kind of power that could erase me without effort. I counted nine.
A nine-tailed fox. Yep. I was screwed.
"Five..." it growled, voice vibrating through the air.
I gulped. My palms sweated around Gravefang’s hilt, though I knew it wouldn’t matter. Not against this.
The fox’s eyes narrowed.
My heart slammed against my ribs. I wanted to scream. I wanted to curse Gandalf, the system, fate itself. I’d just killed an Alpha Deer. I’d nearly died. I’d earned a chance to rest.
No one asked you to do that.
I licked my lips, dry as ash. Every instinct screamed that if I opened my mouth, it would be the last thing I ever said. But if I stayed silent? I was dead anyway.