The third week had dragged into eternity, each day blurring into the next—a relentless march through a sea of ancient trees and unforgiving terrain. I felt the weight of exhaustion pressing down on me, but my resolve had not cracked. I couldn't afford weakness, not when survival was my only companion. Hunting, scavenging, fighting—this was the rhythm of my existence. Each task had become mechanical, driven by a raw need to persist.
The nights were no kinder. They stretched on beneath the cold, uncaring stars or the crooked limbs of towering trees, where the wind whispered secrets I couldn't quite decipher. I was always listening, always watching for signs of life—of civilization. But all I ever found was silence.
My armor, once a symbol of protection and strength, had finally betrayed me. The red leather, worn and battle-scarred, was nothing more than a collection of frayed edges and useless straps now. I crouched low, running my fingers over its tattered remains, a bitter smirk tugging at my lips.
"Figures it'd fall apart now," I muttered to myself, shaking my head. "At least I've still got these pathetic rags to cling to."
The homely clothes I'd cobbled together during my time at camp offered no protection—just a memory of something that once felt like refuge. Now, it was just distance—both from the place and the person I used to be.
I slumped against the broad, weathered trunk of a towering tree, allowing myself a rare moment of rest. Nearly a month of walking, and I still hadn't seen a single settlement. The question gnawed at the edges of my mind, insidious, like rot.
"Am I walking in circles?" My eyes scanned the endless expanse of forest, every tree looking as though it had been cut from the same ancient mold. "No... I know these lands. I've navigated worse." But even I couldn't shake the creeping dread that perhaps this wilderness stretched far beyond my understanding, that I was merely a ghost haunting the same cursed trail.
I clenched my teeth, refusing to let the doubt take root. "Stay focused. There's a town out there. A settlement. Something." I had to believe it. The alternative was too grim to entertain.
As I sat, I mentally sifted through my dwindling supplies. Everything had to be accounted for—every scrap of food, every tool, every makeshift weapon. There was no room for error. Not out here. Running out of anything would be a death sentence.
"I need to make sure everything's in order," I muttered, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. My hands moved methodically, checking and rechecking, ensuring nothing had spoiled, nothing had slipped through my fingers unnoticed. Out here, a single misstep could mean the end.
INVENTORY (24 Slots):
Iron Ingots x170
Brown Bear Hides x3
Half Brown Bear Jerky x1.5
Dire Wolf Hides x6
Half Dire Wolf Jerky x3.5
Twin-Headed Dire Wolf's Head x1
Magnificent Deer Antlers x8
Vial of Flammable Red Liquid x5 (for Molotovs)
Hardwood Bows x5
Long-Eared Rabbit Meat Jerky x10
Half Long-Eared Rabbit Jerky x2.5
30 Pieces of Bread
Iron Pickaxe
Iron Shovel
Small Backpack:
YOU ARE READING
Nocturne's Night
FantasiaIn a world where the boundaries between life and death blur, where the echoes of ancient deities reverberate through the fabric of reality, one man finds himself thrust into a realm teeming with mythical creatures, formidable adversaries, and the pr...
