"Oh, I'm quite lucky," River muttered, surprised to see his Level jump from 3 to 5. Just one Smokey Wolf—and he'd gained two full levels.
He stared at the glowing Stat window for a few more seconds before closing it. The System vanished in a flurry of light particles, drifting away with the wind.
Without wasting another moment, River slipped out of the area in silence.
He'd basically reached his initial goal—Level 5 before heading to the Quest. But if there were more lone wolves around, he wasn't going to pass up the chance. He still had a few strips of beef jerky left—simple bait, but extremely effective. Some might call it a dumb tactic, but to hungry beasts? It was practically magic.
Of course, he had to be quick. If the wolves sensed him too soon, the jerky wouldn't be enough to stop them from tearing him apart.
While moving through the forest, River suddenly stumbled upon the two groups of candidates he'd heard earlier—locked in a brutal fight with a pack of Smokey Wolves.
Advanced guns roared, muzzle flashes lighting up the trees as bullets tore through the monsters. Explosions rang out from grenades, shredding the wolves into blood and fur.
The second group favored cold weapons—swords and bows—some of which had mechanical parts fused into them for added power and precision.
Only two individuals wielded pure cold weapons, forged from dungeon materials. Their movements were sharp and practiced.
River crouched behind a massive rock. A few stray bullets ricocheted off his cover, but the stone held firm. Peering out, he scanned the uniforms of both groups.
Unfamiliar.
No one he recognized from the future. That was a relief.
After his run-in with the future Sun God Mage, River had learned his lesson—he needed to be careful who he crossed paths with. A single misunderstanding could end with another narcissistic monster hunting him down for amusement.
One Helio was already more than enough.
The two groups seemed to be drawing in monsters deliberately, making as much noise as possible to attract Smokey Wolves from the surrounding area.
And it was working.
Wolves sprinted through the forest, drawn by the chaos. But before they could even reach the candidates, they were cut down—by bullets, by arrows, by steel.
From the way they coordinated their attacks, it was obvious these people had trained together. Which made it strange—this was supposed to be their first time in a dungeon.
River's eyes narrowed.
He took a deep breath and scanned the treetops. There—two figures standing silently on separate branches, watching the fight unfold below with calm intensity.
'These Instructors are very efficient, perhaps they know each other?' he wondered, but didn't linger on it.
As the sounds of gunfire and explosions faded into the distance, River pressed forward, always sticking to the shadows.
Several Smokey Wolves rushed past him toward the noise, and each time, he hid. He wasn't ready to take on a full pack—not yet.
His destination was the Quest area, but along the way, he remained alert for any lone wolves he could pick off. So far, he'd had no luck.
Still, he didn't give up.
Then—he stopped.
His eyes locked on a particular tree. It looked like any other giant in this part of the Smokey Wolves territory, but there was something different.
At the base of its trunk was a hollow—wide, dark, and almost perfectly shaped like an entrance.
Inside, a Smokey Wolf slept.
This one was larger than the one he'd killed earlier. Curled tightly inside its den, the monster's breathing was slow and steady. Its body bore a faint red scar near the ribs, a sign of previous injury. Its eyes were shut, unaware.
River's gaze sharpened.
Quietly, he slipped into position, finding a hidden vantage point behind another tree. His eyes gleamed.
Experience Points.
Opportunity.
And a test.
As he studied the sleeping beast, River began to plan his next move.
"It's injured," River whispered, pulling out a piece of beef jerky. The moment the scent wafted into the air, the Smokey Wolf's eyes snapped open.
Slowly, River emerged from his hiding spot, holding the jerky in one hand like an offering.
The monster crawled out of the hollow, baring its fangs as a low growl rumbled from its throat. Its blood-matted fur, once ash-grey, was streaked with dried crimson. Every step it took was unsteady, its limbs stiff with pain—but its eyes burned with the singular desire to kill.
River noticed how it limped, how it flinched with each movement. This one had come back from battle—no doubt part of the same pack that clashed with the two guild groups earlier. Beaten, bloodied, and yet it lived.
Knows when to run, River thought. I like that about you.
He offered a small smile and lowered the jerky to the ground, raising his free hand in a non-threatening gesture.
Then, step by step, he backed away.
The injured wolf kept its gaze on him, cautious but focused. Its ears twitched. Its breath was heavy. Still, the smell of food proved too tempting. Hunger outweighed caution.
It lowered its head and began to chew.
The forest around them was shrouded in low fog. Sparse, towering trees loomed in silence. Rocky outcroppings jutted from the dirt. It was quiet—too quiet. River hadn't seen many animals or plant life since entering this area. Whatever edible resources existed had long since been devoured. These monsters were starving.
And hunger breeds desperation.
As the wolf focused on eating, River moved slowly, taking a single step forward. His hands remained visible, his movements calm. When he reached the beast, he extended his hand above its head.
A warning growl.
Then—snap!
The Smokey Wolf lunged for his hand, jaws wide, but River was faster. He jerked back, barely avoiding the razor-sharp bite.
"Easy there," River said, voice smooth, almost amused. "Everything's fine."
He reached into his bag again and pulled out another strip of jerky.
The monster's gaze softened, its nose twitching as it caught the scent.
"Here," River said, placing the jerky just in front of the beast.
This time, he didn't retreat. Instead, he kept his right hand hovering above its head.
The wolf leaned down and began to eat again. River gently placed his palm on its skull.
The creature glanced up with eyes still filled with rage—but it didn't bite.
River's smile returned. Satisfied. Calm.
He knew this wouldn't last.
He wasn't delusional.
The moment the jerky was gone, the wolf would turn on him. That's how these monsters worked. They didn't understand trust. They only understood need. Hunger. Violence.
So before the last chew was swallowed, River acted.
His knife flashed.
A clean slice tore across the wolf's neck.
The beast roared in pain, twisting and swiping with its massive claws—but River had already moved, dodging to the side and striking again, the blade cutting deep into the same spot.
A torrent of blood gushed forth, splattering across the rocks and fog-choked ground.
Its body trembled. Staggered. Gravity pulled it down like an anchor.
It was already wounded. Already bleeding. It had let its guard down, and now it was too late to fight back.
Cruel?
Maybe.
But River wasn't here to make friends.
He needed Experience Points. That's all.
Nothing personal.