Despite the chill in the air, the journey to Lockward was oppressively hot as the relentless sun blazed down. My heightened sensitivity to light made each day a struggle, forcing me to seek solace in the sparse shade to evade heat exhaustion. The leafless trees offered little reprieve from the intense sunlight, and I couldn’t help but feel grateful that I hadn’t yet ignited amidst their meagre cover.

A subtle, smoky scent, akin to spoiled eggs, clung to me throughout the journey. I suspected that my sun-scorched hair was to blame. Although I wasn’t fully aware of the implications of the nightstalker’s curse, I was certain that spontaneous combustion in public would spark panic.

I hadn’t travelled this far just to meet a premature demise. There had to be a way to mask this sun-induced side effect. It would be a rather underwhelming conclusion if my arrival in town was marked by my sudden death.

The once comforting fur coat now lay folded in my backpack. While wearing it for sun protection seemed sensible, the coat only intensified the heat by trapping it within. I appreciated the cool air, but it did little to counteract the searing warmth of my skin under the sun’s rays. The breeze was like trying to extinguish a forest fire with a mere exhale.

My initial enthusiasm for finding a cure waned as the merciless sun took its toll. My skin became as tough and weathered as an old saddle, and my eyes strained to stay open. To avoid careening off the coastal cliff, I clung to the safety of the forest’s edge, but its uneven terrain only served to drain my remaining energy.

Exhausted, I slumped beneath a tree adorned with a few remaining golden and brown leaves, taking a sip from the water pouch I had filled with melted snow. While relying on snow for hydration was less than ideal, my limited options compelled me to take the risk. Concerns about illness paled in comparison to the other challenges I faced on this journey. After all, if the nightstalkers could survive in their filthy, bat-infested lair, a bit of snow was unlikely to harm me.

The trek had now stretched into a week, and I estimated another day’s hike lay before me. In spite of the frigid temperatures, I found it increasingly difficult to travel during the early afternoons. Clouds and their accompanying snowfall offered some respite, but it couldn’t entirely shield me from the sun’s harsh glare. By the time I reached Lockward, I would be forced to function exclusively at night, raising suspicion.

Obtaining a cure or seeking a healer would be a challenging task. I couldn’t simply ask, ‘Where can I find a cure for vampirism?’ without raising alarm and attracting unwanted attention from the authorities.

My quest for a cure was beginning to feel hopeless the more I thought about it.

A faint mist of steam rose from my skin and vanished into the crisp air as I leaned against an aspen tree, watching the branches sway in the wind. As the sun began to set, I knew I would soon be able to move freely. Travelling at night was now my only viable option, as daytime journeys were marred by constant interruptions.

The realisation that I was swiftly transforming into a monster weighed heavily on me. I had hoped the transition would be more gradual, but fate seemed determined to deny me any ease.

Fortunately, I hadn’t yet felt the urge to consume human flesh. Though, I hadn’t encountered anyone since parting ways with Richard to know for certain.

With the remainder of the afternoon at my disposal, I decided to eat. Unclasping the brass buckle atop my backpack, I retrieved a piece of bread. Tossing the pack aside, I stuffed the bread into my mouth like a chipmunk, chewing it for an extended period.

Either my food was spoiling, or nightstalkers craved only human flesh and blood. Swallowing the moist bread required considerable effort, as if my brain couldn’t recognize it as sustenance. The dried venison Richard had provided lacked taste, but it was an improvement over the bread. Sadly, I had consumed it all long ago.

Eating proved a struggle, but it temporarily silenced the rumbling in my stomach—or at least, what I believed to be hunger. The sensation felt more akin to thirst.

Several hours later, I managed to rise and resume my trek inland, angling toward Lockward while searching for a river or stream to replenish my water supply. My thirst remained unquenched, and I had yet to find any freshwater flowing into the ocean. This detour lengthened my journey, as navigating the increasingly treacherous mountainous terrain deep within the forest proved arduous.

As the hours ticked by, my thoughts grew murky, and each step felt like wading through deep water. My legs faltered, causing me to trip frequently over nothing at all. Each time I collapsed to the unforgiving ground, I lingered there, deliberating whether to continue. The temptation to surrender was powerful, but I mustered the strength to stand and persevere.

The sounds of birdsong and branches crunching underfoot were muted, as if filtered through a barrier. Emotionally spent, I lacked the energy for any thoughts beyond sleep. It seemed as though I was trapped in a dream when the landscape finally levelled out, and I stumbled upon a small pond with a delicate layer of ice. At first, I doubted its reality, squinting at the surface and fearing deception. Paranoia gnawed at me, and I cautiously swept my surroundings, half-convinced someone had placed the water there as a snare—a ridiculous notion.

Anxiety gripped me, even though I had no reason to be concerned, save for the persistent feeling that I had been pursued since leaving Draycott.

While ignoring my better judgement and knowing full well that drinking from the stagnant pond was ill-advised, I fell to my knees and plunged my face into the water. The thin layer of ice mercifully saved me from potentially knocking myself senseless.

The water should have been boiled, but my primal thirst compelled me to drink it unheated. As I drank, the gnawing sensation in my gut subsided, and I experienced a satisfaction no meal had ever provided—It was both euphoric and disconcerting.

I wonder if nightstalkers could fall ill from drinking raw water?

With great effort, I tore myself away from the pond, sat back on my heels, and gasped for breath. My exhalations and damp face steamed in the frosty breeze before I submerged my head once more. I couldn’t quench my thirst for the icy water, but I eventually forced myself to stop when my stomach felt bloated, and I feared I might cause myself harm.

Upon resurfacing, I locked eyes with a black wolf standing across the pond. Their gaze seemed more judgmental than curious as they tilted their head from side to side. Had this creature been following me? It couldn’t have been for food, as they could have easily devoured me earlier.

I flicked my wet hair back. “What? I’m thirsty,” I declared, and its red eyes bore into me, rarely blinking.

The water in my stomach quenched the internal inferno that had tormented me for days. Feeling chilled for the first time in recent memory was a welcome change. I glanced at the darkening sky, invigorated by the crisp air. The temperature was bound to dip below freezing soon, which suited me just fine.

With my water pouch refilled, I sat cross-legged and took a moment to contemplate my next steps. I knew I needed to enter the town under the cover of darkness, or close to it. Once there, I planned to secure passage on a boat and continue my journey to a larger city.

Regrettably, it was improbable that I would find any help in this remote part of the country. A major city with a ministry would be an ideal place to inquire, but I was unsure of their locations. My understanding of maps and my position in the world was limited.

At least my mother had taught me proper writing and speaking skills. That would prove advantageous… I hoped.

My father had truly desired to live far from civilization. He seldom spoke of the world beyond our village, but when he did, it was with disdain for the luxuries of city life that he believed clouded people’s minds. He argued that city dwellers would be ill-prepared for the hardships of war when it inevitably arrived at their doorstep.

I did not share his sentiment. In truth, I was eager to explore this unfamiliar land and experience the comforts my father had derided.

The luminous window had not reappeared since my encounter with the nightstalker. The entire situation seemed surreal. While I tried to convince myself it was a figment of my imagination, I didn’t think I had the creative ability to conjure such a vision independently.

I suspected there was a magical element at play. My father had told me stories of mages casting spells, but they had always seemed far-fetched. However, recent events had made me question the boundaries of reality.

There must be a trigger.

“Open”—I flung my arms upward, earning a curious glance from the wolf—“Yeah, I know I look ridiculous,” I mumbled, dropping my hand in resignation.

Perhaps the window would reappear if I uttered the word it had displayed in that peculiar language. I wasn’t confident in my pronunciation, but I decided to give it a try.

“System?”

Nothing. Clearly, I was delusional. The incident had never occurred, and this curse had eroded my sanity.

As I gazed at the wolf, I sighed. “Any ideas?”

Their head tilted again, like a dog trying to comprehend spoken words.

Closing my eyes, I rested my forearms on my knees and exhaled deeply. This might be less about words and more about thoughts. I wondered what would happen if I concentrated and visualised the window again—the white background, the green and yellow lines overlaying the undulating shapes… I yearned to see this system once more.

Suddenly, a white window arose before me, causing my eyes to widen in shock. This was different from the one I had seen previously, but it still belonged to the system. The squares in the centre seemed purposeful.

I reached out, attempting to touch it, but the system appeared as if it were in my mind rather than physically before me.

However, that notion was short-lived as I heard a gentle female voice say: “Touch mode enabled.”

My hand now created ripples across the window within arm’s reach. Looking away from it caused the window to become transparent—so I could leave it up without it being in the way too much.

Yes. Yes. Yes!

I was astonished that I had managed to summon this extraordinary phenomenon once more. Eagerly, I touched the symbol that resembled a circle with lines.

A map was displayed before me, displaying my village and Lockward, with lines branching out that I assumed were roads. A red arrow, which I confirm by turning around, indicated my position.

My spirits soared at the prospect of having such a precious tool at my disposal.

Accessing the menu proved challenging, but a sweeping gesture eventually succeeded. I observed some options were locked and tried pressing them, without success. However, an icon resembling a person, which lacked the lock symbol, was accessible.

 

 

Hmm. Stats. There was a lot going on here that I didn’t understand.

The depiction of a lifeless hand beside my name was worrisome, implying that it might be an adverse indicator. The health and stamina numbers were familiar, but after reflecting for a moment, I concluded that health represented my life points, and stamina indicated my endurance or running capacity.

However, the term dexterity remained with me. It could be related to fighting skills or maybe a measure of my crafting ability. I was fairly good at making bows, but that was about it.

Why was the attribute called “essence” zero? I felt as if I was being short-changed. It shouldn’t surprise me, though; I was an expert at getting the short end of the stick. Everything else had base numbers except for essence. That word was the only one foreign to me. It seemed odd that I could read a language that wasn’t my own, yet I translated it into what I knew.

Why was essence the only thing that I had no concept of?

Agility was the third highest attribute, which made sense if it was related to speed; I had a touch of swiftness in my step compared to others.

Several bars were partially filled, suggesting there must be a way to complete them. This realisation only raised more questions, leaving me feeling a tad frustrated. I wondered if anyone else had encountered the system and longed for the chance to discuss it with them.

The sort of green arrow signs appeared to serve a purpose, so I went ahead and pressed the one next to health.

What a rip-off. I received only two health points for all that EXP? Ugh.

I should’ve just increased essence instead.

Nonetheless, the Allocable EXP could be used to improve my stats, which I found fascinating and gratifying. I now needed to identify the activities that would earn me EXP. The idea that boosting my health could reduce the chance of death was comforting, but I couldn’t shake the thought that it might also pose a threat to others if I succumbed to the curse.

I wouldn’t dwell on that too much.

With these thoughts pushed to the back of my mind, I gestured with my hand to return to the main menu.

Upon clicking the booklet icon labelled with a question mark, it took me to a page of letters. Then, by pressing them, I found a dictionary similar to the one my mother had used to teach me. The list contained a plethora of words, and scrolling through them seemed endless after I discovered the gesture to move the window’s contents.

I’ll save that for later.

Upon tapping the three blue lines at the top of the screen, the window closed, and I was met with the wolf’s inquisitive gaze.

I glanced at my arm, still wrapped in the stained bandages I had set out with. My restless nights on the ground and the seeping blood had turned the once-white cloth into a dark brown shade. I was unsure of the healing process for nightstalkers, but it was evident that the wound needed attention.

The bandages also required cleaning, considering the sweat I had produced in recent days. Arriving in town looking dishevelled wouldn’t be to my advantage, so I needed to clean my attire as well.

My own scent was becoming unbearable.

Hesitantly, I grasped the end of the bandage, my fingers quivering. Deep down, I knew this wouldn’t be pleasant, and with each winding of the injured arm, my heart raced faster. The reality was more horrifying than I had anticipated when I finally unwrapped the last bit of cloth. My wrist remained severely swollen, and the skin surrounding the cuts, made by the nightstalker’s claws, oozed black pus. A putrid stench, reminiscent of rotting fish, emanated from the wound. I had to suppress the urge to vomit as several gags escaped.

This was bad… really bad.

I submerged my forearm in the frigid water, struggling to wash off the unnatural-looking fluid, which had an oily thickness. The dark substance floated on the surface, refusing to blend.

My hope of saving my arm faded quickly. The dark fluid seeping from my wound only confirmed my worst fears. My arm was decaying, and I could only watch helplessly as it worsened. The curse I had contracted from the nightstalker’s attack seemed to have exacerbated the issue, leaving me with a barely functioning arm and a rapidly deteriorating body.

When I dipped my arm in the icy water, I felt a faint sensation in my fingers. It was a minor improvement, but it didn’t alleviate my concerns. I knew I might have to make the difficult decision to remove it soon. However, I would need someone to assist me, as I wasn’t sure I could go through with it alone.

True to my luck, I couldn’t catch a break. Not only had the wound turned black, but the veins in my forearm also had a greyish hue. My fingers could barely move, but it was progress compared to their previous paralysis. Initially, I believed the immobilisation was due to tight bandages, but that wasn’t the case now.

On a positive note, it was challenging to tell because of the swelling, but my wrist didn’t seem broken anymore. The nightstalker’s teeth had crushed it to pieces. So, perhaps it was healing? No other explanation made sense.

After cleaning my lacerations, I moved to a spot away from the contaminated area and tended to the bandages. While wringing the water from the wraps into the snow beside me, I noticed the wolf watching from a nearby hill. They sniffed the air, likely detecting the lingering stench from my infected arm.

Carefully, I re-wrapped my wrist and forearm tightly, covering the wounds entirely but still allowing for finger movement. I cautiously sniffed the bandages to ensure no lingering odours. Satisfied that the smell was under control, I stripped down and squatted as I washed my clothes in the pond.

Looking up, I locked eyes with the wolf in a bare stare-down. This made me more self-conscious than it should have, considering they were a wolf and not a person. I desperately wanted their gaze to shift.

“Could you go somewhere else?” I asked, making shooing gestures at the motionless wolf. My lips pressed together. “Or just keep doing that. Whatever.” I returned to rinsing my clothes.

Changing into soaking cold garments, I resumed my journey and headed back towards the coast, invigorated. With a full stomach and a replenished pouch, I was confident I would make it to town without succumbing to thirst.

My clothes froze as I traversed the freezing night, yet I remained comfortable even with the snowstorm that had enveloped me. The following day, the sun’s rays hastened the drying of my garments from the previous night’s saturation. My skin radiated warmth, no doubt accelerating the evaporation.

Although the wolf wasn’t physically beside me, I had a strong sense that they were near, shadowing my every step.

Strange.

My pace was steady, even as I took occasional naps in the shade. Upon cresting the hill’s summit, I was met with an awe-inspiring view as the sun dipped, painting the sky with vivid oranges and reds. The majestic mountains ahead guided my eyes downward to the lively city at the bay’s edge, bordered by a shimmering ocean. While referred to as a “town,” this thriving community housed thousands and truly merited the title “city.”

In the summer, this scene would have been beautiful, but now the barren trees and snow-capped mountains lent a stark beauty. The valley reverberated with the cries of the wind, adding to its sombre ambience.

The city’s wall stood as a powerful defence, seemingly insurmountable by even the mightiest of armies. A powerful river flowed alongside the city’s ramparts, pouring into the bay where piers reached out like appendages into the sea, teeming with activity. Workers bustled around the ships, loading and unloading cargo—from this distance, they appeared as ants tending to their nest.

The white sails of the anchored vessels rippled in the brisk breeze, while some were fastened securely in preparation for the oncoming storm. The ocean had been turbulent for the past couple of days, and the dark clouds looming on the horizon foreshadowed its impending arrival.

From my elevated vantage point, I marvelled at the expansive city below. Towering red brick buildings, which I had only previously heard of, rose several stories high and emitted smoke into the twilight sky. Almost every window radiated light, creating a warm glow in the dimming sunlight. Amid the tumult of horses and people, I strained to find a street that wasn’t congested. The resolute movements of the masses were unlike anything I had ever witnessed, a relentless river of individuals coursing through the city with a purpose.

A sudden gust of wind snapped me back to reality, nearly toppling me.

Regaining my balance, I fixed my gaze on Lockward. “You can do this, Kade. A nightstalker didn’t end you. A bit of social interaction won’t be your downfall.”

While grappling with my doubts, I pressed on, conscious that time was limited.

Forward.