By the time Leo followed the sound to its source, a crowd had already formed outside one of the cabins. Voices murmured through the group in quiet, grim tones.
"She really hanged herself?"
"Yeah… poor Rose Monroe. Her husband didn't come back last night, and their kid died years ago. She had no one left. I guess she gave up."
"Tragic. But I can't say I blame her."
"In times like these, death feels like mercy."
No one responded to that. Silence followed.
In a world where surviving meant constant hunger, fear, and helplessness—choosing death took a different kind of courage.
"Clear the way, please! Step aside!"
Two men emerged from the cabin, carrying a thin, pale corpse on a makeshift stretcher. Her tongue lolled unnaturally from her mouth, her eyes wide open and lifeless.
Leo's chest tightened. The sight hit him hard.
But no one else flinched.
Even the kids, barely ten years old, stared on without blinking.
Grant Carter came out last, his face dark with guilt. If Pillar hadn't died yesterday… maybe Rose wouldn't have done this.
His voice rasped as he tried to speak. He offered the crowd a few words of comfort, then turned to a group of sturdy men.
"Get ready," he said. "We head out to hunt in thirty minutes."
The men exchanged solemn looks and nodded.
The dead were gone. The living still had work to do.
After the crowd began to disperse, Grant walked over.
"When did you get here?"
"Just a moment ago," Leo replied, still shaken by the sight.
Grant nodded and turned to leave.
"Dad," Leo called after him. "Do we have any spare bows? I want to learn archery."
Grant stopped, clearly surprised.
In his mind, Leo had always been quiet, withdrawn. He couldn't imagine him facing down a beast. Wanting to train… that was new.
"I want to grow stronger," Leo said firmly. "I don't want to starve to death."
Something flickered in Grant's eyes. Pride, maybe. But it passed quickly.
"There's some in the storage shed. Go find Uncle Zach, tell him I sent you. He'll show you the smallest one."
"The smallest?" Leo raised an eyebrow.
He had assumed last night that bows were rare—only two or three people had them. But now it sounded like the fortress had more than a few?
Grant seemed to catch his thoughts and added, "Archery's not as easy as you think. Hard to train, harder to master. If you're good, you can drop a beast from twenty meters out. But most people? Better off with a spear."
And with that, he turned and walked away.
Leo felt a twinge of unease. Maybe he had been a little too optimistic… but it was too late to turn back now.
The storage shed was in the northwest corner of the settlement. The paths were quiet—most people stayed inside to conserve energy.
As he approached, Leo noticed a group of teens around his age on the training grounds, practicing spear thrusts. Each held a two-meter-long spear and jabbed forward in repetitive motions.
Behind them hobbled a middle-aged man with a limp—shouting "Draw! Thrust!" as he moved from one to another, correcting their stances.
Leo narrowed his eyes. That must be Uncle Zach.
He took a deep breath and stepped forward.
Before he could speak, Zach turned to him and looked him over.
The teens stopped as well, glancing curiously at Leo.
"Uncle Zach, I'm here because—"
"I know who you are," Zach interrupted with a grin. "You're Grant's son. The one who nearly died eating wild berries the other day."
Leo gave an awkward smile.
"You here to train with the spear too?"
"I was hoping… to try a bow first."
The teens shared a glance—some unspoken thought passing between them.
"Another one, huh?" Zach muttered, but nodded. "Alright. Come with me."
Then he turned, eyes hardening. "And you lot—what are you doing standing around?! More sweat now means less blood later, got it?!"
The boys flinched and resumed their drills immediately.
Leo followed Zach into the shed… and stopped in awe.
The place was packed—racks of swords, spears, axes, shields, even crude cannons lined the walls.
Zach noticed his stare and smirked. "Those? No gunpowder. Just heavy scrap metal now."
He pointed to a row on the left wall. "There. Bows. Pick one."
Leo looked over. Several longbows hung in a neat row, arranged from smallest to largest. The smallest was just about a meter long. The largest? Nearly two meters—taller than him.
Swallowing hard, he pointed. "Maybe I'll start with the one on the left?"
"At least you're not cocky," Zach chuckled. He took down the smallest bow and gave it a test pull. The string hummed like a wasp.
"You'll need at least forty pounds of pull to draw this. At twenty paces, you could kill a low-tier beast with one shot. Try it."
He tossed the bow to Leo.
Leo caught it awkwardly, then reached for an arrow from the nearby rack. He nocked it, aimed at the distant straw target, and pulled.
It was hard.
His muscles strained. His teeth clenched. He poured every bit of strength into it… and finally, the string drew back.
He released.
Thump!
The arrow flew, though not far. Leo's arms trembled. His right shoulder felt numb.
But then—his vision flickered.
----------------------
Status Panel:
Skill Unlocked:
Basic Archery – Lv.0 (1%)
----------------------
"...!"
He almost gasped.
Just pulling the bow and loosing a shot had unlocked a new skill—Basic Archery, complete with a progress bar.
Only one percent—but that was progress. That was hope.
If archery could be unlocked this way… what about swords? Spears? Even fists?
Would using them unlock Basic Swordsmanship, Basic Spearmanship, or Basic Hand-to-Hand Combat?
The possibilities lit a fire inside him.
Behind him, Zach stared, unimpressed.
"…What's with that face?" the older man muttered. "Kid pulls a bow once and acts like he's conquered the world."