The morning sun filtered gently through the canopy as the team stirred awake. Exhaustion clung to their bodies like a second skin, reminders of the brutal battle from the day before. Cuts were wrapped, bruises ignored, and muscles ached with every movement. But they were alive—and stronger for it.
Dave sat cross-legged a short distance from the campfire, eyes closed, steady breaths escaping his lips. A soft chime echoed in his mind.
> [Daily Quest Complete: Physical Routine +15 EXP]
EXP: 170/3200
He exhaled slowly and stood, stretching his limbs before glancing at his stat window. His last free stat points had pushed his core stats to a uniform number the night before.
---
Name: Dave Snyder
Level: 7
EXP: 170/3200
Strength: 41
Speed: 41
Stamina: 41
Agility: 41
Abilities: 0
Skills: 3
---
But this time… something was different. There was no familiar notification of +1 to all stats. No sign of growth.
A moment later, a new message appeared—one unlike anything he had seen before:
---
> ⚠️ [WARNING: Stat Limit Reached]
Your body has reached the peak of its current form. Further stat growth is impossible until evolution is unlocked.
To evolve, reach Level 10.
Current Level: 7
---
Dave's eyes narrowed.
"So… I've hit my wall."
He clenched his fists. Strength still surged through him, more than ever before—but it wasn't enough. The system had raised the bar again.
Behind him, footsteps approached.
"Morning," Mike said, yawning. "You're up early. Again."
Dave nodded. "Yeah. Routine."
Emily rubbed her eyes as she joined them. "We still have five more days out here. Think more of those Nightfangs will show up?"
Stive smirked, walking over while tying his hair back. "If they do, they better bring friends. That last one barely scratched me."
"You were bleeding from your ribs," Tobin muttered, limping over with his shoulder in a sling.
Stive shrugged. "A scratch."
They all shared a small laugh, the mood lighter than the day before. But Dave's thoughts lingered on the message. Evolution. Level 10.
He didn't say anything. Not yet.
Soon, he would need more than raw strength. And the clock was ticking.
Six days passed in a blur.
The group, still recovering from the intense battle with the D-Rank Nightfang, chose to stay close to their makeshift camp. Hunting, foraging, and routine physical drills became their daily rhythm. Every beast they encountered was handled carefully by the team—with Dave always in the background, watching.
He never stepped forward to fight.
Even when the others urged him to take the lead, he declined with a quiet shake of his head, offering backup when needed but never delivering the final blow. Some thought he was hiding injuries. Others believed he was being cautious. But the truth was something only Dave knew—he was conserving strength, holding back, and calculating every step toward his next evolution.
The campfire conversations grew lighter as the days ticked by. Bonds had formed, jokes were shared, and even Stive had stopped mocking others. There was a sense of growth—not just in strength, but in trust.
Then, on the morning of the seventh day, it happened.
A pulse of energy cracked through the forest like lightning, and the teleporter stone that stood dormant nearby began to glow. Vibrant blue runes surged to life, forming a spiraling portal of light in the clearing.
The students—tired, scarred, but stronger than when they had arrived—gathered near it in silence. Then, without warning, five academy staff members stepped out of the glowing gate, each one radiating authority.
One of them—a tall woman in silver armor—named miss Katie
"Your time in the wild is over. You've survived. You've learned. You've grown. This test is now complete." Katie said
A cheer erupted among some of the students, while others simply sighed in relief.
"Everyone, return to the academy," she continued. "Your instructors are waiting."
One by one, the students stepped into the portal, vanishing in flashes of blue.
But just as Dave moved toward it with his team—
"Dave Snyder."
He stopped.
The woman stepped forward, her tone firm but not unkind. "You're not going with the others. We need to talk."
Lina turned, confused. "Wait, what? Why?"
Emily frowned. "Is something wrong?"
Stive looked at the staff, then back at Dave. "Don't tell me you broke some rules."
Dave said nothing. His calm gaze remained locked on the woman in armor.
"I'll be fine," he said to his team. "Go."
There was hesitation in their eyes, but they obeyed.
One by one, his teammates stepped into the portal, leaving Dave alone with the five academy staff members. The light from the teleporter cast an eerie glow on his face as the portal slowly dimmed behind them.
The light from the teleporter faded, leaving Dave alone in the silence of the forest clearing. The five academy staff stood before him like statues—cold, still, unreadable.
Then, one of them stepped forward. A woman with sharp green eyes and jet-black hair tied in a strict bun. Her name tag read: Katie Vornis.
She approached slowly, her boots crunching over leaves and twigs.
"Dave Snyder," she said calmly, her eyes never leaving his. "Do you know why you're still here with us?"
Dave's expression didn't change. His hands remained loose at his sides, but internally, his senses were screaming. His instincts flared.
"…No," he replied, his voice measured. "But I'm guessing it's not a reward."
A thin smile tugged at Katie's lips. "Smart."
Behind her, the other four instructors glanced at each other, exchanging silent nods. One of them, a tall man with silver streaks in his hair and a scar over his left eye, scoffed.
"Let's just tell him," he said. "No point dragging this out."
Katie nodded and stepped aside.
The man continued, stepping forward to speak clearly and coldly.
"Every year," he began, "we send first-year students into the wilderness to test their strength, teamwork, and survival instinct. That part you already know."
He paused, letting the silence stretch.
"But what we don't tell them… is that every year, one student must die."
Dave's eyes narrowed slightly. His body tensed.
"Why?" he asked, his voice low.
"To push the others," Katie said. "Fear… is a better motivator than comfort. Knowing they could die makes them fight harder. Learn faster. Survive longer in the real war outside these walls."
Another instructor—a woman with short white hair and blood-red gloves—spoke next. "It's tradition. And statistics show students who believe a peer has died during training are 40% more likely to improve in combat classes."
Dave was quiet. Dead quiet.
The silver-haired instructor cracked his knuckles.
"You are weak, Dave. You can't fight… So if we say you died it will be a good motivation to everyone."
Katie nodded solemnly. "So this year, it's your turn."
Dave looke
d around at them, one by one.
Five instructors. All powerful. All dangerous.
"So… you're going to kill me to scare the rest of the students into growing stronger?"