An earthy smell assaulted Daniel’s nose.

  Ding!

  A dull ache pulsed in his temples, faint but persistent. His limbs felt heavy and weak. The usual post-loop fatigue—that lingering disorientation he’d come to expect after losing the stats he’d built up before dying.

  He didn’t bother opening his eyes. What was the point?

  Nothing worked. He had tried everything—gone through the same few days, over and over—yet no matter what he did, he couldn’t figure out how to survive.

  What good was a time loop if every path led to death?

  At first, he’d been hopeful. He wasn’t equipped to survive in a forest, sure, but he thought that with enough loops and a good enough System, he’d figure out the basics.

  He hadn’t been thrilled about dying, of course. Each death was filled with fear and pain, but there was something about the loops that made it all feel… distant?

  Like a dream he could recall in perfect detail.

  That was probably why he’d kept going in the beginning—the loops erased the weight of each death, allowed him to push through the fear and pain.

  What the loops didn’t erase, however, was the sense of failure.

  Failure to plan. Failure to survive.

  Failure.

  It was almost laughable, waking up every time completely unharmed, refreshed, and whole—only to be crushed by the certainty of another failure.

  The Systems helped, sure. Every loop brought new abilities, new tools, new chances. But no matter how much they improved his odds, they didn’t keep him alive. They didn’t guarantee success.

  They just gave him more ways to fail.

  At this point, he barely bothered to check what each System even did. If it didn’t have “survival” in the name, it was practically worthless to him. New abilities, new powers—none of it mattered if he couldn’t make it past the next death.

  Maybe he’d just lie here forever, let the wolves have an endlessly looping meal. Maybe that was the point of it all.

  Wallowing in his thoughts, Daniel let out a quiet, internal sigh.

  As he opened his eyes, he braced himself for the usual greeting message about his new System.

  Good morning, Daniel. Due to your actions during the previous day, you have been awarded the following stats: +2 Constitution and +1 Willpower.

  …huh?

  Daniel blinked at the screen, his mind struggling to process the message. He looked around.

  This wasn’t the clearing.

  His eyes darted around the room, trying to make sense of the unfamiliar surroundings. The walls were made of rough-hewn wood, worn smooth in places from time and use.

  There was no clear view of the outside, just a dim, cozy interior with small windows that let in very little light.

  He tensed, his body going rigid as he became aware of a figure in the corner of the room—a bipedal creature with smooth, scaly skin, its body shifting through hues of green and brown, as if blending into the surroundings. It stood still, watching him with a steady gaze.

  Panic surged through Daniel’s chest. His breath hitched, and his pulse quickened. It wasn’t until he tried to swallow that he noticed the dryness in his throat, the raw ache of dehydration still clinging to him.

  The creature, as though sensing his anxiety, shifted its colors again, this time adopting a more subdued pattern of soft blues and muted greens. It stepped closer and spoke in a soft tone.

  “Pek. Stiild.”

  He could feel the being's gaze on him, its calm intent clear in its posture. He didn’t understand what it was saying, but something in its presence dulled his rising panic, even if just for a moment.

  A moment later, another figure entered the room. This one, unlike the first, shifted through hues of orange and red.

  The two began conversing rapidly, their voices a strange, guttural cadence.

  “Stiild tum. Nii los ronak. Thun fun zey wah ulaak fah nii.”

  “Vahr mii? Mu dreh ni mindok fos nii los aarthok do—"

  Daniel tried to follow along, but the words were lost on him.

  He wasn’t sure, but he thought there was a shift in their tone—the first figure speaking with an air of calm reassurance, while the second’s agitation seemed to ebb slightly.

  Eventually, the first figure said something that seemed to settle the second’s mood. The colors shifted to a muted brown and green, and the second grew still. Then, the first turned back toward Daniel.

  “Mu fen kun hei wah Thun” they said gently but firmly.

  With that, Daniel was ushered out of the room. The dim light outside suggested it was evening. As he stepped out, he froze, his breath hitching in his chest. The building he’d just left wasn’t on solid ground—it was suspended high in the air, attached to a massive tree.

  All around, similar structures hung like nests, interconnected by swaying rope bridges. Despite his growing vertigo, a gentle prod urged him forward.

  Every fiber of his being screamed to stop, but he knew refusal wasn’t an option. Squaring his shoulders, he forced himself to focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

  The bridge creaked with every step, shifting slightly under his weight. Each subtle sway was amplified by the movement of the reptilian beings traversing the platforms around him, their footsteps sending faint vibrations through the ropes.

  The bridges were just wide enough for two to pass side by side, and when a group approached from the opposite direction, his stomach twisted. Clutching the rope rail with white-knuckled intensity, he refused to glance down, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

  By the time they reached their destination—a sprawling structure adorned with intricate carvings—his legs felt like jelly.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  He longed to collapse, but his guide’s amused yet firm look left no room for hesitation. Swallowing his discomfort, Daniel pressed on.

  Once inside, he was directed to sit near the entrance as the first figure went through an archway covered by a woven curtain of vines and leaves, their soft rustling the only sound breaking the quiet of the room.

  Seeing no way to ask questions of the other being, Daniel opened up his status for the first time in a while.

  Status

  Name: Daniel

  System: Crafting

  Stats

  Strength: 8

  Constitution: 16

  Dexterity: 10

  Intelligence: 8

  Willpower: 17

  Perception: 9

  System Abilities:

  Imbue Essence: Crafted items gain enhanced properties based on their purpose and he power of the crafter amplifying their natural traits.

  System Crafted: Each crafted item becomes a System Item, providing stat boosts and abilities when used or equipped.

  Resourceful Hand: Crafting uses fewer materials, with higher-quality craftsmanship saving even more resources. Surplus materials may provide minor stat boosts.

  He remembered seeing Crafting appear at the start of this loop and had immediately resigned himself to the frustrating prospect of surviving on his own.

  On paper, it sounded great. The ability to make his own tools, armor, and weapons seemed like the ideal system for his situation. Unfortunately, he knew from experience with other Systems in past loops that potential meant little when the execution relied on him.

  For the abilities to work properly, he needed skill—and worse, the right materials. Neither of which were exactly easy to come by.

  It didn’t matter if he had the potential to craft a legendary spear if he could barely figure out how to sharpen a wooden stick.

  At least his stats had grown a bit over the previous loops. More often than not, he'd died too quickly to earn any bonuses at the start of the next cycle. But on a few rare occasions, he'd managed to survive just long enough and push himself hard enough to gain a boost.

  The systems he'd encountered in past loops had ways to increase stats outside of training, but they were rarely straightforward. None had been as easy to trigger as the Quest System, which practically handed out rewards for completing simple objectives. Most others relied on things he had little access to in the forest.

  In this loop, though, he’d managed to gain a decent amount in every stat, especially Constitution and Willpower. Apparently, staggering through the forest for a week while nearly dying of thirst had been excellent training.

  Before he could contemplate it further, he was called into the next room. The space wrapped around the tree it was attached to, offering a view of the bark. Upon entering, he was greeted by the sight of a smaller member of the species he now found himself among.

  It was seated upon a simple chair, seemingly woven from branches of the tree. Beside it stood the one he had seen when he first woke up.

  The smaller being observed Daniel for a moment, its eyes thoughtful. It opened its mouth and started to speak.

  “Ahnok,” it said, its voice soft. “Dii for los Thun, aal Zu'u mindok hein for?”

  Seeing his look blank expression, realization dawned on its face.

  “Eh,” it said, shaking its head. “Hei dreh ni mindoraan zey, dreh hei?”

  It paused, watching Daniel’s face for any sign of comprehension. When Daniel simply stared back, uncertain, the creature’s expression softened, and it did something strange.

  Clasping its hands together, the small creature’s skin began shifting rapidly. A peculiar feeling hung in the air. The temperature subtly shifted, and Daniel felt a faint pressure around him.

  It tried again. “Zu’u fen brah dii kiilaar wah il mii tinvaak.”

  Daniel’s brow furrowed; the unfamiliar sounds were just as unintelligible as before. But the being seemed to sense this, its gaze flickering to Daniel’s face. It studied him for a long moment before continuing, each word deliberate, as if to help him understand.

  The more the being continued to speak, the more meaning Daniel began to catch. Eventually, he felt something shift. As the being’s words settled in his mind, he began to grasp their underlying meaning.

  “Il zey mindok fod hei vis mindoraan zey. Zu’u lost pogaan—questions for you.”

  The smaller being tilted their head slightly, watching Daniel’s eyes as recognition blossomed. A satisfied look crossed their face as they observed Daniel’s expression shift.

  “You do understand,” they said softly, relief in their voice. They moved a little closer, their gaze now more direct. “Good.”

  “Now then,” they asked, their tone carrying a deeper, more insistent weight, “Who are you, what are you, and why are you here?”

  Daniel blinked at the words, his heart skipping a beat. For a moment, he simply stared at the being. It had been so long since he’d heard someone ask him anything that he was nearly overcome with emotion.

  He hesitated, still trying to process the overwhelming situation. He wasn’t sure how to answer, but at least the language barrier had broken. He took a deep breath and answered the questions as best as he could.

  “Who am I? My name is Daniel,” he said slowly, his voice hoarse. “What am I? I’m… human.”

  He paused, glancing at the ground for a moment before continuing. “As for why I’m here… I don’t know. I thought I would be dead by now.”

  The being gave a small nod as if processing his words.

  “I am Thun,” they said, their tone calm and steady. “My people are the Soven.”

  Daniel blinked, still processing everything. “Soven…” he repeated. “I’ve never heard of your people before.”

  “Yes, Daniel the human. This forest is home to many dangerous creatures.” Thun’s eyes studied him. “You are lucky to have survived so long, being as weak as you are.”

  Thun observed him for a long moment, their expression unreadable. They crossed their arms, their tone growing quieter but no less firm.

  “My hunters found you half-dead near our home,” they said. “Do you have somewhere you belong?”

  Daniel shook his head mutely, unable to speak.

  Thun continued, their voice carrying a sharper edge. “This forest is unforgiving, Daniel the human. If you wish to remain alive, you will need someplace safe.”

  They paused, then gestured toward the room around them. “You may stay with us, but only if you prove yourself useful. My people cannot afford to carry anyone who does not contribute.”

  Daniel blinked at the offer, surprised by both the opportunity and the bluntness of the terms. Before he could find the words to respond, Thun continued, leaning slightly closer.

  “What does your Virlaan tell you?”

  “Virlaan?” Daniel echoed, the unfamiliar word catching him off guard.

  Thun’s expression shifted. “Your mark. Your essence. The force that aids you.” They made a sweeping gesture toward him, as if the answer should be obvious. “Surely you have one?”

  Realization struck, and Daniel hesitated before answering. “You mean… my system?”

  Thun tilted their head, the word seeming unfamiliar but close enough to something they recognized. “If that is what you call it, then yes. How does it aid you?”

  Daniel took a deep breath, weighing his response. He decided honesty, at least to a point, was the best option. “It… empowers things I create.”

  Thun’s gaze lingered on him, their sharp eyes studying his face for any sign of deceit. “Empowers things you create,” they repeated slowly. “How?”

  “I can make things stronger or more useful,” Daniel explained, glancing at his hands. “But only if I have the skill and the materials to do it properly.”

  Thun nodded, their expression softening further, though their tone remained measured. “That is a valuable gift, but only if it is used well. If your Virlaan allows you to strengthen what you create, then do so. Prove your worth to us, and you may stay.”

  Daniel exhaled slowly, nodding. He might just survive. Yet something nagged at him, and after a moment, he spoke, his voice uncertain. “Why are you offering this? We’ve just met. You barely know me.”

  Thun regarded him silently for a long moment, their expression unreadable. Then, they spoke, their tone still measured but carrying a quiet weight. “It is my Virlaan. My system, as you would call it.”

  Daniel frowned, still unsure. “Your system?”

  Thun nodded once, their gaze steady and direct. “It is not the same as yours, but it empowers me all the same. It is a power of leadership and law. My Virlaan guides my decisions, sharpens my senses, and reveals truths to me.”

  Daniel’s brow furrowed as Thun continued. “I can sense honesty, and my presence promotes understanding. It is why you can understand me now, despite the language barrier.” Thun paused, allowing the weight of the words to settle. “I lead by these gifts.”

  Thun’s eyes softened ever so slightly. “It is because of my Virlaan that I can offer this—guiding you, offering you a chance to prove yourself. I will give you an opportunity, but you will have to earn your place. My Virlaan allows me to see when others have the potential to grow."

  “Tomorrow, you shall be tested,” they said. “If you are worthy, you will remain. For now, rest.”

  Daniel followed in silence as he was led to where he would be staying, his thoughts swirling. The weight of the day pressed heavily on him—not dying, the unexpected offer and the looming test. The room he was shown was simple but functional, with a bed made of woven leaves and a faint, earthy scent of moss and bark lingering in the air.

  He sank onto the bed, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as he tried to quiet his mind. Tomorrow would bring challenges he couldn’t yet imagine, but one thing was certain: he couldn’t afford to fail.