Shackles of Survival

The last of the beast's cries echoed throughout the forest as it collapsed towards the ground. A wave of dust spread in every direction, and its body writhed in the final throes of its existence. Still awake—but barely—Connor felt the world's weight pressing on his shoulders. His vision flickered between clarity and darkness. The chains that had bound the beast shimmered before dissipating into the air, their magic spent. The adventurers had succeeded.

But it had come at a cost, and the price was.

A torn leg lay in a pool of blood across the jungle floor. Connor stared at it, his mind unable to process the sight. Suddenly, a series of notifications broke through the silence.

Ding!

You have leveled up!

Ding!

You have leveled up!

Ding!

You have leveled up!

Ding!

You have leveled up!

His vision darkened before anything else could register as a group of adventurers rushed toward him. By the time they arrived, Connor had already fallen unconscious.

The world faded to black, leaving Connor and Jacob in silence. Time felt meaningless, stretching endlessly into eternity.

Elsewhere in the jungle, five people sat around a campfire, talking in hushed tones. Beneath a massive tree, someone lay on the ground.

"You've been over there for three whole days," a man's voice called out. "Relax, Aria. That's an order!"

The woman he spoke to leaned against a tree, her long hair catching the firelight. With Her coat hung loosely around her, and she held what looked like a wet towel, her eyes fixed on the people lying on the ground.

Another man, more easygoing, chimed in, "You think they're going to make it? We lost good men to that damn beast. Was listening to Aria and helping them make the right call?"

The group fell silent, the weight of the remark settling over them.

As the fire crackled and the moon climbed higher, the sun's light faded completely. For seven days, this cycle repeated—a constant rhythm of night and day.

A faint light flickered, breaking through the abyss.

"Hey! They're waking up!" a voice called, distant but growing clearer.

Connor groaned, his body aching as though it had been trampled. Every fiber of his being felt strained, even the smallest movement a monumental effort. His eyelids fluttered open, revealing the canopy of a massive tree. Rays of sunlight filtered through dense leaves, casting dappled patterns on the ground. The air smelled of herbs and smoke, and the crackling of a fire reached his ears.

He wasn't alone. Jacob lay beside him, muttering in his sleep.

"You two are lucky to be alive," said a woman seated near them. She wore battered armor, her blond hair tied back in a loose braid. Her stern expression softened as she leaned closer, relief flickering in her eyes. "That thing nearly killed you both. We barely managed to save you."

Connor tried to sit up, but pain shot through his body, forcing him to collapse back onto the ground. "The… leg," he rasped.

The woman's face darkened. "It's gone," she said quietly.

Jacob stirred, his eyes fluttering open. To Connor's disbelief, his twin broke into a faint, delirious grin. "We leveled up," Jacob murmured, almost gleefully. "So many times..."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "Leveled up?" she asked, skeptical.

Connor stared at Jacob, dumbfounded. His brother's cheerful demeanor seemed wildly out of place.

"Jacob," Connor snapped. "Stop being weird. What are you doing?"

Jacob turned to him, an odd gleam in his eye. "Think of 'Menu,' Connor. You just have to think of it!"

Connor frowned. "What the hell are you talking about? Life isn't a damn video game!"

Jacob grinned wider. "Just try it!"

Connor groaned in frustration, his voice rising. "We've lost everything! Do you understand that? My leg is gone! What's the point of leveling up if we can't even walk?"

Jacob hesitated, his smile faltering. He glanced at the woman standing over them, her expression somber.

"I know," Jacob said softly. "I know we're broken. But what else are we supposed to do? I'm just trying to make the best of it."

Connor clenched his fists, anger and helplessness boiling within him. The battle with the beast had scarred them, but it was also the beginning of something far greater. With every level gained came new strength—and new possibilities. For now, survival was all that mattered.

Meanwhile, Jacob, with just a thought, "Menu."

Before Connor could question him further, a glowing blue screen appeared in front of Jacob. His face lit up with childlike excitement as he scanned the information.

Jacob Orwin

Race: Human (E)

Class: Summoner (Level 5)

Field of Discipline: Unassigned

Soul Abilities: Soul Flame Eternal Link

bloodline ability: (locked)

[Skill]

{Imprint (common)}

{Identify (common)}

[stats]

Strength {STR}: +5

Dexterity {DEX}: +5

Intelligence {INT}: +5

Wisdom {WIS}: +5

Defense {DEF}: +5

Luck {LUK}: +5

Speed {SPD}: +5

Charisma {CHA}: +5

Endurance {END}: +5

Perception {PER}: +5

Vitality {VIT}: +5

"Sweet!" Jacob whispered to himself, with a grin spreading across his face.

Connor, noticing his brother's distraction, growled, "What are you doing now?"

Jacob looked up, unbothered. "You should try it. You just must think of the 'Menu and there.'"

Connor shook his head in disbelief. "You're impossible," he muttered.

Though frustrated, Connor couldn't deny the faint spark of hope igniting within him. The future was uncertain, but one thing was clear: their fight wasn't over yet.

Connor looked over at the group, wondering what would happen if these people decided to leave them behind right now that they were helpless and of no use.

Who are these people he thought then out of nowhere?

Skill activation: {identify}

Above the adventure head, their names appear as the following: The blond-haired, flamboyant man was named Lyle Prophet. The slim, tender, slim girl in front of them was named Ari Prophet. They had, like, been related based on them looking very similar and sharing the same last name before he gazed across the group and analyzed them one by one. One huge man with his hands wrapped in bandages was named Ramsey Neville, while one who seemed a bit distant was named Finn Michealson. Finally, Markus Oakland, the one with the biggest personality of them all, was dancing with his sword in a very eccentric way.

After he carefully analyzed all of them, he clenched his fist while staring back at his and his brother's missing leg, frustration evident on his face. I'm at their mercy.