Scarred

The forest was eerily silent, save for the faint rustle of leaves as the wind swept through the canopy.

Shadows danced across the forest floor, twisting and shifting as if alive. 

A lone figure moved among the trees, his footsteps silent, his black cloak blending seamlessly with the dark surroundings.

With practiced precision, the man drew his blade — a plain shortsword that had seen better days. He crouched low, watching the large, bear-like creature lumbering just a few feet ahead. 

Its fur was matted, its claws gleaming like daggers. The monster snarled, sniffing the air, unaware of the danger lurking behind it.

In a blur of motion, the man struck. His blade slashed through the air with deadly accuracy, cutting into the beast's neck before it had time to react. 

A gurgling growl escaped its throat as it toppled to the ground, lifeless.

The man straightened, letting out a slow breath. The wind tugged at his cloak, pulling the hood back to reveal his face.

Tobi.

A thin scar ran along his left cheek, a stark reminder of a week spent immersed in a life far removed from the one he had known. 

His face was leaner now, his jaw more defined, and his once-soft expression carried a hardened edge. His eyes, sharp and focused, scanned the forest for any signs of movement.

"It's done," he muttered, wiping the blade on the creature's fur before sheathing it.

The past week had flown by in a blur of blood, sweat, and constant movement. In his old life, a week was something he endured — a monotonous cycle of work, paperwork, and deadlines. Here, it had been anything but mundane. 

Every day brought a new challenge, and each challenge left its mark, both on his body and his mind.

He glanced down at his arms, exposed from beneath the rolled sleeves of his tunic. 

They were crisscrossed with thin scars, souvenirs from skirmishes with wild creatures and the occasional mistake born of inexperience. 

His body ached in places he hadn't known could ache, but he felt alive in a way he never had before.

The first few days had been rough.

Tobi had initially stuck to small hunting parties, tagging along with groups of adventurers to take down weaker monsters. 

It was safer, and the rewards, while modest, were enough to keep him afloat. But he quickly realized the limitations of working with others.

For one, the lion's share of the loot always went to the more experienced fighters. Tobi, relegated to the rear guard, rarely had the chance to prove himself. 

Worse, his earnings barely covered his expenses.

By the third day, he had made a decision: he would go solo.

It wasn't an easy choice. The risks were exponentially higher without a team to watch his back, but the rewards were greater too. 

More importantly, it gave him the freedom to grow at his own pace, unshackled by the politics and hierarchies of adventurer groups.

His first solo outing had nearly killed him.

A wolf-like creature with razor-sharp teeth had caught him off guard, and the ensuing fight left him with the scar on his cheek and a newfound respect for the dangers of this world. 

But it also gave him something else: confidence. He had survived. Barely, but he had survived.

The subsequent days had been a steep learning curve. Tobi adapted quickly, honing his reflexes and sharpening his instincts. 

He studied his enemies, learned their patterns, and struck with precision. Each battle was a test, and with each victory, he grew stronger.

Now, as he stood in the forest, the wind cooling the sweat on his brow, Tobi felt a strange sense of calm. 

The fear that had once gripped him was still there, but it no longer paralyzed him. Instead, it drove him forward.

He knelt beside the fallen beast, examining it closely. Its claws and fangs would fetch a decent price at the market, and its pelt, though damaged in places, was still valuable. 

Tobi pulled out a small knife and began working, his hands moving with practiced efficiency.

The GUILD system had remained a constant presence in his life, silently tracking his progress. He had managed to save up over a three hundred bronze coins so far, a small fortune compared to where he had started. 

"Baby steps," he murmured, cutting through a particularly stubborn patch of fur.

The dream was far off, but it was enough to keep him moving forward.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting the forest in hues of orange and gold, Tobi finished his work. 

He secured the harvested materials in a crude sack, slung it over his shoulder, and began the trek back to the city.

The path was familiar now, though it had been intimidating at first. The towering trees, the occasional rustle of unseen creatures, and the distant cries of predators were no longer as unnerving as they once had been.

Tobi's thoughts drifted to the scar on his cheek. He ran a finger along it absentmindedly, remembering the searing pain and the blood that had poured down his face.

It wasn't just a mark of survival; it was a symbol of the life he had chosen.

Back in his old world, he would have balked at the idea of risking his life for a few coins. But here, in this strange and brutal world, he felt a sense of purpose he had never known.

As he reached the edge of the forest, the lights of Fallowmere came into view, twinkling like stars in the distance. Tobi quickened his pace, eager to sell his haul and get some rest.

But even as he walked, his mind was already planning the next step.

The road ahead was long, and the challenges were many. But for the first time in his life, Tobi felt ready to face them.