Days and nights passed, flowing constantly.
Faust managed to complete a main camp, not far from his bear observation spot. The camp had a small shelter made from sticks and leaves, using a large tree as the core structure to support the rest. It was enough to house Faust, his goblin, and his boar. The boar would likely survive the cold, but the goblin, on the other hand, would probably die if left outside, so he decided to keep it inside the shelter.
At the center of the shelter, there was a small firepit that was his heat source. Outside, Faust had hidden dozens of active rock grenades, spending time every day carving and powering more. The camp was not a fortress, but it was his domain. He held a strong advantage.
Winter was approaching. The weather wasn't cold enough yet to store meat properly, but plants could be preserved. He began storing herbs, fruits, and anything else edible that he could find. On the other hand, clothing proved to be trickier than he expected. He had found a few wolf packs, but they outnumbered him. He would stack losses against them; it was not ideal.
To prepare, he trained with his goblin and boar, trying to find ways to synergize in combat. His mental strain had also lessened slightly. Red continued to guide him in poison-making, teaching him how to reduce the time needed for production. But didn't teach him any new concoctions.
On a cold night, Faust sat at his bear observation spot, leaning against the trunk of a tree as droplets fell from the leaves. He stared up at the sky.
Faust was alone. Red wasn't truly a person. His goblin and boar, at this point, were barely distinguishable from himself.
The cold wind blew against his face, his pale skin contrasting with his pitch-black hair. His red eyes, glowing and glistening, gazed at the starry sky. He was expressionless, just staring at the horizon.
This time, he wasn't fighting against time. He wasn't rushing for resources. He was simply thoughtful.
"Red, what truly are you?" he asked plainly, not expecting a reply. His eyes didn't move from the beautiful scenery.
As expected, no answer came.
"Hehe… well, it doesn't matter. Thank you. I survived to this point because of you. If I had no runes, I wouldn't have survived. If I had no mana, I wouldn't have survived. My body is stronger, but I feel like my mind is still weak. So, I'll be honest with you, even if you won't answer."
"Do you know why I never pushed the dream matter? Why I never insisted for long on getting an answer? Because in the end, it doesn't matter."
"When my parents died—when I fell into that cave—I'd never felt that way before, obviously. I was truly alone. Except for you, of course, but you… well, you know. I thought I enjoyed loneliness, but I miss my parents. I miss Carl and the books. Mickella and the other kids. I miss the baker and his wife. I miss the hunters, even though I barely talked to them. I miss my village. I miss my life."
"I know there's no going back. What's done is done, I can't change it. I thought about it, you know. Killing the people who did that won't change anything either. But I'll do it anyway. I hate them. I'll hunt every single one of them down. I'll slaughter them just like they did with everyone else. Except I won't fail. I won't leave any of them alive. The mistake they made—I won't. And I want you to help me, Red."
Faust stood up, turning toward his main camp. Upon arriving, he slept. No dreams. No Red.
When the sun rose, Faust left the shelter and headed into the forest. By now, he had become a mildly experienced hunter. He could track animals with some skill—out of every ten attempts, he succeeded seven times.
He soon found a wolf pack. Once again, they were numerous. Faust did not engage. He noticed a distinct lack of herbivores in the area—likely due to the bear or the wolves, though it could be for another reason he hadn't had time to uncover.
He kept searching.
On a cold night, one week later.
"Finally... it took such a long time."
Faust thought, staring at a pack of injured wolves. There were five of them—three already wounded by claw and bite marks, likely from a fight with another pack. He followed them from a distance, waiting for an opportunity. Two of the injured wolves began to lag behind, barely able to move. When the others moved ahead, Faust struck.
He hurled two javelins—one from each hand. They hit the weakened wolves. Both howled before collapsing to the ground, dead. The remaining three wolves—one of them injured—began to circle him.
As one of the healthy wolves leapt toward him, Faust struck with a poisoned javelin. His movements were faster now, even more than in the cave. The wolf was hit. It staggered, then collapsed, still alive but unable to move.
As the other two wolves prepared to pounce, Faust gave a silent command, and from the bushes, two creatures burst forth. The boar rammed the wounded wolf aside. It hit the ground and coughed blood, unable to rise.
The goblin kicked the last wolf just in time, throwing off its aim. The two companions attacked together. The boar charged, holding it still, while the goblin slashed its legs. In seconds, the wolf was down, barely breathing.
Faust tied the three living wolves to the boar with makeshift ropes of plant fiber. He placed the dead ones on the boar's back to carry them.
They returned to camp. Faust treated the wounds of the captured wolves with plant bandages, not wanting to leave traces that would attract predators. The two dead wolves were skinned for their pelts. Now he had four: two used as saddle and bedding and two freshly obtained. He also attempted to subdue the three living wolves. He failed twice, killing two of them in the process. The third—a healthy one—was subdued successfully. The next day, he used a healing rune on it, restoring it to peak condition. The two dead wolves were also turned into materials.
Now he had six pelts in total; it was more than enough. Still, he wanted extra in case of failure. The black creature skin he used as a poncho was quite bad at insulating against the cold.
After a few days, he was done. Faust had barely managed to bind three pelts together using plant cords, but it was enough to keep him warm. He also had enough pelts to use as bedding. In the end, he had only ruined one. He was quite happy about this surprise.
The food issue had already been mostly resolved. He had stocked a good amount of plants, and the wolves' meat was now enough to keep him and his creatures fed for at least two weeks. The weather was already cold enough for snow to form. The bear hadn't left the cave in the past few days. Faust hadn't left his shelter either. He was as prepared as he could be. He spent the free time he had practicing mana, stopping only to eat and sleep.
After a few more weeks, winter had completely set in. The once-green forest was now covered by a thick layer of white snow. The tree branches dropped snow like falling rain. The wind was cold enough to make anyone shiver. Faust stood at his observation point, arms crossed, his face expressionless, as flakes of snow landed on his skin. His red eyes were fixed on the bear's cave.
"First, attack with the poisoned javelins. If they don't bring him down, detonate the half-powered runes on them. That should be enough to make the bear fall. If not, I'll use my rocks and remaining javelins to buy time, lure him here, and use the temporary camp as the battlefield. I should have enough runes to win. If anything goes wrong, I have a healing rune—but it's slow and won't help instantly. Only after a few minutes to hours. Just one more time…"
Faust repeated the plan over and over in his head. He didn't want to mess up any step. He was nervous. This bear would probably be the strongest foe he'd ever faced. He had a boar, a goblin, and a wolf, but if he was right, they wouldn't be enough to take the bear down. Even if he fought directly, he wouldn't be a match. He had to use his brain; it was his only advantage over the beast.
He took a slow, deep breath, white fog rising from his mouth. Then he started walking toward the cave. The plan was ready. Once it began, there would be no turning back. It was either him or the bear. If he failed, he'd become prey once again.
He reached the front of the cave. He left his goblin and boar outside as he stepped inside, the wolf following ahead as a shield. The cave was dark, but he could see the bear sleeping next to the mountain of bodies; it was now reduced by at least a third.
Carefully approaching, Faust held one poisoned javelin in each hand. Step by step, he moved closer, not even breathing to avoid making a sound. The bear snored, unaware. When he was close enough, he raised both hands and stabbed—
Both javelins shattered in his hands. Their tips couldn't pierce the bear's fur. One of the bear's deep black eyes opened. Then the other. Faust froze, cold sweat forming on his body as he locked eyes with the beast.
He turned and bolted, commanding the wolf to follow him. The bear rose to all fours and roared.
"Damn it! I didn't think I would fail on the very first step, how the hell did it not even pierce? Is that thing made out of stone?! It makes no sense at all!" He continuously cursed the beast.
He ran as fast as he could. As he neared the cave entrance, he glanced back—the bear was nearly on him. He could feel its rough breath on his shoulder—
THWUMP!
Faust couldn't react. He didn't even have time to use the wolf as a shield. The bear's paw struck his back, its claws tearing through him and launching him out of the cave. He hit the snowy ground hard. He was bleeding heavily, painting the white snow with red.
He ordered the wolf to do a hit-and-run tactic, to do anything to buy even a few seconds. He grabbed a leaf with a healing rune from his belt and used it; it glowed and then crumbled in his hands. The effects began to show, the wound slowly starting to close.
As the wolf held the bear's attention, Faust ran to the camp. But after just a few seconds, he couldn't feel the wolf anymore. He turned back—and saw half of the wolf's body lying on the ground, the other half clenched in the bear's jaws, organs and blood dripping from its mangled corpse.
The bear charged again.
Faust had no choice but to run as fast as he could and threw the stones grenades behind him to stall the beast as much as he could. He failed. The plan failed. In mere seconds, he was severely injured and had lost the wolf.
There was no turning back now. The bear wouldn't stop hunting him. He had no option but to subdue it.
In gambling terms, he had lost on the penultimate round, nearly all his money gone. He had one last hand left. And to win, he'd have to go all-in.