Tyler rested his head against his hands, gaze fixed on the stars above. He quietly admired them, the alien patterns, the structure, the shifting colors. For some reason, they felt closer, larger. They lacked the distance of small dots or pinpricks puncturing a dark canvas; they resembled small floating emeralds.

  No matter how long he looked, he couldn't get used to it. It felt like seeing the night sky for the very first time.

  A shooting star appeared, tracing a line across the darkness. It looked immense, like a comet skimming the atmosphere, trailing burning blue flames.

  *This is amazing,* he thought, eyes following the light. *The sky is very beautiful.*

  He sighed, closing his eyes. *It's nothing like back home.*

  He felt the pull of sleep beginning to take hold, but his eyes snapped open. He sat up slowly.

  *Right. I didn't even allocate my new stat point. I almost forgot.*

  The status panel materialized before him. He rubbed his chin, scanning the lines of text.

  *The lowest one I have right now is Defense,* he thought. *Just like I thought earlier, it must have something to do with toughness. If I increase it, it probably decreases the damage I take. It just makes me tougher.*

  He focused on the Defense stat.

  *Then I'll add it there.*

  TYLER EVANS:

  SPECIES: Human

  NAME: Tyler Evans

  RANK: G+

  LVL: 6

  CLASS: Craftsman

  HP: 40/40 MP: 40/40

  STR: 20 AGI: 21

  DEF: 19 STM: 21

  SKILLS: Weapon Craft-Lv1,

  PASSIVE SKILLS: None

  Defense was now 19. Tyler looked at his hand, slowly curling his fingers into a tight fist until the knuckles turned white. He flexed the muscle in his arm, testing the weight. *One point really doesn't feel like it's making a difference,* he thought, his gaze dropping to his forearm. *But I don't really feel like something's happening. If it was two or three points at once, maybe I’d notice it more.*

  The blue light of the data screen dissolved, leaving him in the dim gloom of the canopy. A thought struck him. *My inventory space also increases as I level up, right? I almost forgot about that.*

  The inventory panel shimmered into existence. His eyes skimmed through the grid, pausing on the new icons that had appeared. He saw the hides of the Shadow Walkers resting there.

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  *My inventory really does increase by two with each level,* he realized, counting the empty squares. *Now I have 14 inventory spaces.*

  *It's pretty good, I guess,* he thought, shifting his weight against the rough bark. *That means I will have plenty of space to fill things up with. Imagine if I reach level 20... I'll have more than 40 inventory spaces.*

  His eyes narrowed as he studied the crimson fangs. Four of them occupied a single square, their tips sharp even in the icon's resolution. *Some of these items can be stacked into one space, like those teeth,* he noted. *But others aren't, like the branches and the spears. Every time I put them in, they automatically get placed in another space. I don't even think I can control which slot they take.*

  Tyler stared at the grid, furrowing his brow as he focused his mind, trying to force the materials to swap positions. The icons remained stubbornly fixed.

  *Yeah, just like I thought.*

  He let the panel fade and leaned back against the makeshift bed, the hard wood pressing into his spine.

  *I've got to go back to sleep,* he thought. *I need to recover my energy. I have a feeling it's going to be a long day tomorrow."

  Tyler closed his eyes, waiting for sleep to reclaim him. But as he drifted, the forest grew colder. The wind picked up, rustling the canopy, forcing him to shift constantly to find a comfortable spot. The bark beneath him dug into his skin, growing harder and more unforgiving as the night wore on. He struggled to find rest, his body tense against the cold, but eventually, exhaustion pulled him under.

  Hours passed. The stars faded from the dark canvas, replaced by the grey light of dawn as the sun breached the horizon. The sound of chirping birds pierced the quiet, pulling Tyler from his sleep with a subtle groan.

  He sat up, rubbing the grit from his eyes. He pressed the back of his left hand against his spine and leaned backward, stretching until a sharp pop relieved the pressure. He let out a deep breath and looked around. His eyes widened.

  The forest was gone, buried under a thick morning mist he had never seen before. It was a dense, suffocating blanket of white. The further he looked, the more the mist obscured his vision, erasing the world below.

  *Oh man,* he thought.

  He gripped the trunk and pushed himself to his feet, groaning as his joints protested. He felt a dull snap in his knees; the pain was sharp but relieving, a sign of his stiff limbs waking up. He turned in a slow circle, there was nothing but mist.

  "I can't even see clearly," he muttered under his breath.

  He turned again, squinting into the grey void, trying to find a landmark. *No, there,* he thought, trying to recall the previous night. *That direction. That was where I was supposed to go... I'm pretty sure.*

  He paused, his breath steamy in the cold air.

  *This is going to be dangerous,* he thought. *Should I just wait it out? But what if it doesn't go away? How is there this much mist in the morning, anyway?*

  He sighed, the decision solidifying in his mind. *I'm going down. I have to get to that camp as soon as possible.*

  He began to climb, moving slowly and deliberately. *This is a bad idea, but I have to do it.*

  But as he descended, a rustle vibrated through the wood beneath his grip. Something shifted against the bark. A small, dry hiss reached his ears. He froze, looking up, his eyes widening, every muscle in his body locking tight.

  From behind the curve of the trunk, a head slithered into view. The front of its skull was completely flat, framed by long, jagged teeth protruding from a lipless maw. It had no eyes, just smooth, pale skin. A red, forked tongue tasted the air. Its body was cream-white, thick and segmented more like an eel than a snake.

  The sight of the creature sent a jolt of pure terror through him. His reaction was instinctive and violent; his grip slipped, and his balance vanished.

  He fell. His back slammed against a lower branch, the impact forcing the air from his lungs. He tumbled over the limb, his shoulder smashing into another with a sickening crunch that sent him spinning mid-air. He landed flat on his chest on the forest floor.

  He groaned, his jaw clamping shut to stifle a cry as he scrambled to his feet.

  A heavy, wet impact struck the earth behind him. He glanced back. The creature had fallen. It looked about half a meter tall on the ground. A system panel hovered over its serpentine form:

  SLITHER: LEVEL 15.

  Tyler bolted without waiting to see it move. The hiss sounded distant.

  He dug his heels in, his shoes skidding violently against the damp earth as he slid to a halt.

  *Shit,* he thought, heart hammering against his ribs. *What am I doing? I'm going the wrong way.*

  He turned around. A system panel materialized in the air before him.

  ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: SURVIVED THE NIGHT IN A MONSTER ZONE.

  CONGRATULATIONS.

  THE USER HAS SURVIVED THE NIGHT IN A MONSTER ZONE.

  AS A G-RANK AT THAT.

  THE USER HAS EARNED 3 STAT POINTS.

  "Whoa, tight," he muttered, reading the glowing text. " I got another achievement." He focused on the specific words. "Monster zones," he said, testing the term. "So that's what this is? I'm in a monster zone?" He frowned. *It does make sense. This forest is full of monsters.*

  The panel dissolved. *I've got three extra points,* he thought. *I'll allocate them as I walk.*

  He glanced sideways, spotting the tree he had fallen from. Its trunk was barely visible through the haze, but he moved around it, using the landmark to reset his bearings.

  "I can't see a thing," he said, eyes darting around as he began to walk again. *I'll just have to rely on my ears. I'll avoid places where I can hear sounds.*

  The spear shimmered into his grip. A small bar hovered near the tip: DURABILITY: 65%.

  His heart hammered against his ribs. *It's already at 65%,* he thought, stomach sinking. He remembered the battle, the way he had missed the creatures and driven the spear into the earth with excessive force. He slowed his pace, his thumb brushing against the smooth wood of the spearhead. *It must be from the fight with those monsters last night. That means I'll have to find more branches soon.*

  He tightened his hold on the weapon. *But what matters right now is getting to the camp as soon as possible.*