Aaron stood atop the highest branch of the tallest tree in the forest.
He surveyed the surroundings, but his mind was elsewhere.
A problem.
1 Day earlier:
Aaron stood before the altar, his breathing still fast from the recent hunt, his heart pounding in his chest. His thoughts lingered on the battle he had just fought, on how his movements, though stronger and faster, had lost precision and balance. He had accumulated enough points — he was certain of it. Yet, an unpleasant feeling began to creep in, a kind of imbalance he couldn't ignore.
Taking a deep breath, he placed a firm hand on the altar, letting the cold stone seep into his fingers. As always, a familiar warmth slowly spread through his limbs — a sensation that had become almost comforting, a herald of newfound strength. But this time, something was different.
As the energy surged through him, he waited for the usual wave of power, that intoxicating rush that always came when he raised his stats. But nothing came. Or at least, nothing he could perceive. He frowned, troubled, trying to assess the changes. He tensed his muscles, made a few quick movements, but no noticeable gains appeared. The difference was so slight, so minimal, that he couldn't be sure it wasn't just his imagination.
Aaron remained still for a long moment, staring at the silent altar, his mind filled with growing doubt. Was this the beginning of stagnation? Had he reached some kind of limit? The idea was unbearable, and yet he couldn't deny the evidence: his progress had become negligible.He turned away from the altar slowly, mind unsettled. He knew he would have to rethink his strategy, understand what had just happened.
With this latest increase, he had reached level 33 in the stat BODY.The boosts had started to plateau around level 30.
However, that hadn't stopped him from leveling up. There had simply been no increase in strength or speed.
Aaron placed his hand back on the altar and thought carefully.
His gaze shifted to the other stat, still at level 0.
MIND.
But he looked away after a few moments, Noraa's voice echoing in his mind.
"It's not necessary for now. We're not in a desperate situation. There's no need to make risky decisions. Especially with something that affects the brain."
That's how he had ended up at the top of this tree, looking for a sign, a solution, anything to ease his unrest. From up here, the forest stretched endlessly, silent and indifferent to his doubts.
The wind whispered softly in his ears, stirring his hair and bringing him a strange clarity. Aaron closed his eyes for a moment, letting the sensations flood his mind.The million-dollar question was: "Is this limit innate or just a bottleneck?"
Aaron stood at the top of the tallest tree, his eyes scanning the gray horizon where the endless forest gave way to a plain of green grass, barely visible from this distance of 20 km.
Each point invested — thousands at a time — now produced only a slight tremor in his muscles, a mere echo of what he had felt in the earlier levels. He didn't understand why. No message, no explanation. Just this invisible wall, this mocking stagnation.
He clenched his only fist, frustration rising like a silent wave. He had 14,230 points in reserve, earned through methodical hunting of the forest's monsters, but spending more on BODY felt futile. And yet, he couldn't stop. Not in a world where weakness was a death sentence. This world didn't forgive stagnation.
— You can't keep going like this, murmured Noraa in his mind, her voice cold and analytical. You're wasting points for nothing.
— "Then what?" Aaron whispered, his breath forming a faint mist in the warm air. "I'm already strong enough to kill an ordinary human with a single gesture, and I've only been here for a month. What if I'm not the first to arrive? What if someone's already been here for a year? If I don't find a solution, if I don't move forward, I'm done."
He jumped from the branch, landing gracefully, a sharp contrast to the heaviness in his mind. His steps led him to the clearing, where the black altar stood, silent and indifferent. He placed his hand on the cold stone, and the numbers appeared in his mind:
BODY: 33MIND: 0Points: 14,230
His eyes lingered on the zero in MIND — a stat he had ignored since his arrival, wary of what it might do to his mind, to his clarity. But the forest was no longer enough. He had emptied these woods of their usual prey — the twisted-limbed, gaping-mouthed creatures. Each victory earned 250 points, a pittance compared to the exorbitant cost of higher levels. He needed more. A lot more.
— What if you left? Noraa suggested, almost provocatively. The plain. You've seen it. It's there, within reach.
Aaron turned his head toward the horizon, where the trees abruptly ended, giving way to that green expanse that seemed to call to him. He had never gone there. Too risky, too unknown. But if the forest was a dead end, the plain might be the answer. Stronger enemies, perhaps. More points. A chance to break through the wall.
— "I have no choice," he murmured, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "If I want to move forward, I have to go where it hurts."
He pulled his hand away from the altar and adjusted his spear on his shoulder. But before leaving, a thought held him back. MIND. What if that stat offered something different from BODY? Not brute strength, but a key to understanding this world? He hesitated, then, driven by impulse, invested a fraction of his points.
Assign 9,170 points: MIND → 12
A strange warmth spread through his skull — gentle yet penetrating — climbing from the base of his neck to his brain. His eyelids twitched, and the world transformed. The contours of the trees became sharper, pulsing slightly, as if animated by invisible energy. Sounds intensified — a distant crack, a subtle rustle. Then his gaze caught a shape in the bushes, thirty meters away.
It wasn't an ordinary monster. Not one of those beasts he hunted effortlessly. The figure was blurry, almost translucent, like a mirage, morning mist. It stood motionless, and yet Aaron felt a shiver run through him. He felt watched.
— What is that? asked Noraa, a hint of unease in her voice.
Aaron didn't respond right away. He blinked, and the creature vanished, melting into the shadows as if it had never existed.
— "The more I see, the more dangerous it gets," he murmured, heart pounding. "What is this stat?"
He turned on his heel, eyes fixed on the forest's edge. The plain awaited. And with it, answers — or a quick death.
— You just spent nine thousand points on a stat you don't understand, Noraa said sharply. Do you realize what you've done? You're altering your perception of the world without a safety net.
— "I took a calculated risk. I need to see more clearly. To anticipate. To understand."
— You're not trying to understand. You're trying to accelerate. You're scared.
Aaron stopped for a few seconds. She might be right. But hesitation was a luxury. He clenched his jaw.
— "I'm moving forward. That's all that matters."
— I'm not blaming you for moving forward. It's necessary. But don't forget the caution that kept you alive in the beginning.
He descended the hill in silence, his steps light and quiet like those of a predator. The effect of the MIND stat intensified gradually. He now perceived details he would have ignored before: the tension of branches, the precise movement of air around him, the irregular beats of his own heart. Everything seemed sharper. Too sharp.
— Hold back, Noraa whispered in his mind. Every new perception is a potential distortion. Don't let your mind get lost in it.
He said nothing. He knew she was right, but he refused to turn back now.
As he emerged from the trees, he saw the makeshift camp. A hut of rough branches. Two figures were there, leaning over a piece of cloth they used as a table: Roy and Anne.
They looked up at the same time when they saw him.
Silence fell immediately.
Aaron approached without slowing down. His face was closed, impassive, as usual. But Anne frowned slightly. There was something different in his gaze. As if he was looking through her, not at her.
— "Going somewhere?" Roy asked, calm but tense.
— "Yes."
— "Alone?" he pressed, crossing his arms.
Aaron stopped. He observed Roy for a few seconds without speaking, then simply nodded.
— "May I ask where?" Roy ventured.
Aaron looked into Roy's eyes for a few uncomfortable seconds.
— "Beyond the forest. Toward the plain."
Silence struck again. Even the rustling wind seemed to pause, as if the forest itself was holding its breath.
Roy opened his mouth, hesitated, then closed it. His gaze darkened slightly, as if he had just understood something he had long feared.
Anne took a small step back. The plain. She had seen it once, through the trees. An infinite, barren space, where the strange light of this world seemed to crash against the ground. She had never dared go near it.
— "Why?" she finally asked, her voice low but firm.
Aaron finally tore his gaze from Roy and turned to her. His eyes were colder than usual. But they weren't empty. They were… distant. As if he was already looking elsewhere.
— "Because the forest is done."
Anne frowned.
— "Done?"
— "The monsters here no longer give me enough. Each fight gives me less than the cost of the next level. I'm wasting time."
Roy slowly shook his head.
— "What are you looking for exactly? To be the strongest?"
A bitter smirk crossed Aaron's lips.
— "No. I just want to stay alive. And the more I think about it, the more I believe death is coming fast if I stay here."
Roy stood speechless for a moment, struck by the brutal honesty of Aaron's words.
— "You really think it'll be better over there?" he asked, voice slightly hoarse.
— "No. It'll be worse," Aaron replied bluntly, eyes lost in the hazy horizon. "But I'd rather face unknown danger than die slowly in an environment I've already mastered."
Anne wanted to say something, but nothing came out. Aaron's gaze was too cold, too distant. She realized he wasn't just leaving — he was leaving their world. The one where they still believed they could survive together. That there was still a 'we.'
There was no longer a 'we.'
— "And if you die out there?" Roy dared.
Aaron gave a humorless smile.
— "Then I'll have failed. But at least I'll have tried. I didn't come here to wait for the end."He paused, then looked at them one last time.
— "You should think about what you really want. To survive? Or just delay the inevitable."
— "But you could take us with you," Anne murmured. "Or at least warn us, prepare us. You're leaving us like we don't matter."
Aaron looked at her for a few seconds.
— "Because you don't matter yet."
The words fell like a guillotine.
— "If you hold on, if you survive this world, if you learn… then maybe. But today, you're burdens. And I no longer have the luxury of carrying anyone."
Anne felt her throat tighten. There was no hatred in his voice. Not even cruelty. Just a cold calm, a ruthless logic. She understood in that moment that Aaron no longer played by their rules.
He was already no longer quite like them.
Roy sighed.
— "You're going to end up alone."
Aaron looked at him for a long time, then shrugged.
— "Maybe. But alive."
And without another word, he resumed his march toward the plain. His steps were steady, as if each blade of grass, each root, each gust of wind was clearing his path. Soon, the trees thinned around him. The light changed. So did the air.
Behind him, Roy lowered his eyes. Anne remained frozen, jaw clenched, heart pounding too hard. It was no longer fear.
It was something else.
An emptiness.