"So… a perception path?" he said suggestively while… mentally winking at me.

  I know that doesn’t make sense. But I swear I could feel him winking, even though his face revealed no trace of it.

  I don’t know how dad managed to remain so immature at his age. What did mom even see in him?

  The man was obviously trying to get me to reveal the specific path I had taken. And though I could easily invent something on the spot, I refused to give him the satisfaction. He looked far too smug about it—like he was the greatest father in the world for arranging a higher Path for me.

  The worst part was that I couldn’t even set things straight and kick the grown-child man.

  Either way, I refused to thank him.

  He almost got me killed.

  No—scratch that.

  He did get me killed.

  "Stop asking, Johan," mom said dismissively as she walked past, carrying a basket of freshly washed clothes. "If he has any sense inside that hairy head of his, he won’t say a word about his Path."

  "But we’re family, Triss. Family!" Dad protested, clearly frustrated.

  That gave me some small satisfaction.

  "Family also says things they shouldn’t," mom shot back without slowing. "Family also tells their drunk friends about—"

  Mom had started one of her famous torrents of sarcastic complaints—completely justified complaints, mind you—but that was my cue to leave. Passive-aggressive mom would turn fully aggressive in a few ticks.

  "I'm out. Bye, family!"

  I tossed the words behind me and escaped before the storm truly started.

  Yesterday’s registration at the Hunter’s Association had been a success.

  Not that there had been any real chance of failure. Nobody cared about a first-step kid from a poor background.

  As for lying about my Path? They would care even less. Nobody survived outside the walls without a decent Path. Anything that mattered—skills, attributes, competence—would reveal itself once someone started walking the further steps and joining hunting teams.

  Joining a team was a must for hunters.

  No matter how powerful a Path was or how capable a hunter might be, nobody faced the ruthlessness of the wilderness alone.

  Unfortunately, my situation was… complicated.

  So instead of looking for available teams, I informed the clerk I would be doing some gathering near the walls. There was some danger involved, of course, but it was considered acceptable—and even encouraged. Most people with Perception Paths and no background started exactly like this.

  Gathering referred to foraging for aether-infused resources. Mostly plants, monster drops, and certain minerals that naturally absorbed aether.

  These natural treasures could be used to enhance nutrition or craft potions and equipment.

  Of course, such supplies were usually only affordable for the wealthy.

  Or for workers with rare, higher-tier Paths.

  I had absolutely no familiarity with valuable ingredients, so I spent a long time studying the task board inside the association. I tried to memorize the drawings and descriptions of plants and drops.

  I even considered sketching some of them for reference. But paper was also beyond my means.

  I hated being poor.

  The town gate was far from my house, so the walk took time.

  Normally I would circle around the town, avoiding the wealthier districts. It saved me from suspicious looks and the occasional pacekeeper deciding that a poor kid must obviously be planning to steal something.

  But today I decided to walk straight through the center.

  With a higher Path, I didn’t feel quite as worthless as before.

  Besides, I had the nagging feeling that sooner or later I would have to deal with those people anyway.

  Unfortunately, that decision reminded me of something I had wanted to avoid.

  Too late.

  It was so very William of me.

  Right in front of me stood the Temple of the Burning Arrow.

  Turning around abruptly now would attract more attention than simply walking past it.

  As far as I knew, nobody could see another person’s Path.

  But that didn’t stop the instinctive urge to avoid priests.

  The moment I passed by the temple’s gate, my skin began to tingle.

  A sick feeling crawled through my stomach.

  Was that just nerves?

  Or a reaction from my Path?

  A horrible thought followed.

  What if the reaction worked both ways?

  What if they could feel me too?

  How could I have been so careless?

  Promising myself to never step near a temple again, I forced my legs to keep moving.

  Each step felt like walking through fire.

  Every unrelated sound made me flinch.

  An old woman dropped her keys nearby and I nearly jumped out of my skin.

  Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the temple fell behind me.

  "Phew…"

  I leaned against a wall, taking advantage of the shade, letting out a long breath.

  That had been far more stressful than it should have been.

  The streets here were bustling with activity.

  People walked in every direction, traders shouting prices while buyers haggled loudly. Stalls overflowed with tools, utensils, food, clothes, and even weapons. Some merchants had proper shops, while others simply carried baskets and shouted their wares to passing customers.

  The town center was a place I rarely visited.

  I never had coins to spend, and poor boys wandering around markets were usually mistaken for pickpockets.

  But now I had a legitimate reason to be here.

  Well… not right now, exactly. But soon.

  I paid careful attention to the people around me—how they walked, how they spoke, the posture they carried, the clothes they wore.

  When the time came, I wanted to blend in.

  To move unseen.

  To belong.

  The short walk left me more tired than it should have. Probably because I had been tense the entire time.

  Fortunately, the gate soon came into view.

  For a moment, relief filled me.

  Then I saw the wilderness beyond the open gate.

  And remembered exactly what waited out there.

  In terms of defense, I had exactly one weapon.

  My old knife.

  Probably dull.

  The only reason I dared step outside was the support of my skill—Regeneration.

  Not that I wanted to test its limits anytime soon.

  It had brought me back to life once.

  But who knew if it could do that again?

  Like attributes, skills had to be trained to grow. They started weak and slow. Only after months—or years—of use would they become reliable pillars for someone walking their Path.

  There were no alternatives.

  I couldn’t stay home forever.

  I had to progress.

  Somehow.

  I had a few ideas. Half-baked plans slowly taking shape as I learned more about my Path.

  Fortunately, the first step had already given me a vague sense of direction. Nothing special—just how Paths worked. With each step, one went deeper, learning new skills and understanding the nature of the Path itself.

  The second trial would only become clear when I was ready.

  The more I experienced my Path, the clearer the way forward would become.

  For now, I only knew two things.

  I had to serve the Hidden God through secrecy.

  And through sacrifice.

  I could feel Their preference for lives—monsters included, thankfully—but as long as the offering had real value, They would be satisfied.

  Honestly, if I ignored the bloody initiation… and the whole sacrifice thing…

  Being a cultist wasn’t so bad.

  Offering something valuable was basically the same as working hard, right?

  Everyone had to struggle to move forward on their Path.

  My Path also granted a lot of potential.

  And my first skill was incredibly useful.

  Possibly the most useful one imaginable.

  It kept me alive.

  There were also other ways to acquire skills.

  Skill scrolls existed.

  They were rare and expensive, sure, but they could be obtained—either from traders or as rewards from certain monsters.

  In fact, I had a small advantage there.

  My high potential meant my attributes could grow higher than normal. Many skills required minimum attribute thresholds.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Martial skills would probably be wasted on me since I couldn’t increase my body potential much.

  But spells?

  Spells were another matter.

  Mages had an advantage because their paths gave them innate knowledge.

  Still, I met the requirements.

  And with my higher soul potential, I might even possess more aether than a mage at the same step.

  As I approached the gate, the two stationed guards glanced at my clothes with critical expressions.

  They couldn’t stop free citizens from leaving.

  But they certainly could stop them from coming back in.

  So I made sure my hunter badge was clearly visible. That would guarantee smooth passage later.

  Of course, a few coins could also open the gates. But I wasn’t exactly swimming in those.

  Ignoring the guards’ stares, I continued walking toward the outside.

  I didn’t have a specific destination.

  Just… outside.

  Truth be told, I didn’t even know what outside really looked like.

  The moment I crossed the gate, my body froze.

  My feet rooted to the ground.

  Every step forward felt like a battle for survival.

  I was terrified.

  The guards and travelers behind me were probably laughing at the stupid, overconfident kid walking straight into death.

  Let them laugh.

  In this moment, only my life mattered.

  Looking around, I noticed several hunters leaving the town as well.

  They were easy to spot.

  Proper equipment. Solid armor. Real weapons. The confident posture of people who knew exactly what they were doing.

  If I had any real hope of success, I would swallow my pride, approach them, and beg for help.

  But I already knew the answer.

  It would be a lost cause.

  I could still watch them from afar and learn something. Even their demeanor might reveal whether the area around the walls was truly safe.

  But my hopes didn’t last long.

  Soon the group marched straight into the forest, vanishing between the trees and leaving me alone with my doubts.

  Fortunately, a couple of hunters—maybe gatherers—remained nearby instead of entering the woods. They wore leather armor, much better protection than what I had, and they moved with practiced awareness. Every now and then they stopped to scan their surroundings.

  Not just the ground.

  Even the sky.

  I made sure not to get too close.

  I might be a newbie, but I understood one important thing: outside the town walls, things worked differently. Laws had far less authority out here.

  There were plenty of stories about hunters who had conflicts with other groups… and then mysteriously disappeared during a hunt.

  What if they mistook me for a thief?

  Or worse.

  What if they were thieves?

  I kept my distance, pretending to explore the surroundings while secretly observing them. Staying close to the gate made that behavior normal enough.

  With calmer nerves, I finally had the chance to properly observe the outside world.

  The forest was… well, a forest.

  A vast green ocean stretching endlessly into the distance. Patches of mountains rose here and there, and occasional clearings broke the sea of leaves with dull patches of brown and yellow.

  Closer to the town, the trees were smaller and the vegetation thinner.

  Further away, everything grew taller.

  Thicker.

  Darker.

  I noticed several stumps scattered around in small clusters.

  Lumberjacks’ work, most likely.

  I knew that some woodcutters ventured outside once a month to harvest timber, always escorted by hunters. The forest might look peaceful from afar, but nobody trusted it enough to enter alone.

  My target today was blue grass, a common plant with high aether density.

  It supposedly grew everywhere.

  Still, I planned to collect anything remotely valuable I could find.

  Memorizing all the common resources listed on the task board had been a challenge. The blue grass was considered easy to find, which made it a preferred target for beginners like me.

  The good thing about it was that experienced hunters didn’t bother collecting it.

  Its selling price was simply too low.

  The task posted at the association accepted unlimited quantities, meaning they would buy as much as I could bring.

  When I had been studying the board, I overheard a few hunters saying the task was less about profit and more about encouraging new members to step outside the walls.

  Still, the plant had practical uses. It could be used in potions and cooking.

  More importantly, it was edible.

  Hopefully, it would serve as a decent supplement to my miserable health.

  As time passed, I grew a little bolder, slowly drifting farther from the gate.

  Soon, I spotted something that looked promising.

  According to the drawing and description, the grass turned light blue when fully matured.

  But as I approached, I realized the description had been… generous.

  The color was more like pale blue.

  Barely blue, really.

  Which probably explained why I hadn’t spotted it sooner.

  It looked almost identical to regular grass—just with a faint, unnatural tint. The color likely came from aether saturation.

  I crouched in front of the patch and carefully cut it with my knife, keeping the blade close to the root without pulling the plant.

  Just like the instructions had said.

  If harvested correctly, new grass would grow later, allowing other gatherers to collect it again.

  I held the bundle in my hand and hesitated.

  Save it?

  Eat it?

  Or…

  Offer it as a sacrifice?

  The thought alone made my skin crawl.

  Part of me didn’t want to try the ritual again—not after the nightmare that had started my Path. Besides, the grass wasn’t exactly valuable.

  In the end, I postponed the decision.

  Food first.

  The responsible part of my brain insisted I should wash it before eating. So I walked to a nearby brook and rinsed the grass several times before finally chewing it.

  The taste was…

  Bitter.

  Not just bitter.

  Aggressively bitter.

  The kind of bitterness that makes you question your life choices.

  I nearly spat it out several times, but stubbornly forced myself to swallow.

  I was still hungry—even after breakfast—and desperation did wonders for one’s tolerance.

  Soon a cool sensation spread inside my stomach.

  It wasn’t unpleasant.

  Just… oddly filling.

  I was still hungry, maybe a little less, but it was hard to tell.

  I decided to eat a few more patches and see how it went.

  I continued walking along the wall, the massive stone structure giving me a comforting—if completely illusory—sense of security.

  Now that I could identify the blue grass more easily, I moved faster.

  Soon I found another patch.

  Then another.

  And another.

  Three more later, I finally felt full.

  My body was still painfully skinny, but my stomach bulged slightly beneath my shirt.

  Hopefully that would turn into actual body mass instead of just looking like I had swallowed a melon.

  By now the sun was high in the sky.

  Almost noon.

  I should have brought a hat. My head was already starting to feel the heat.

  At least I had refilled my water pouch at a stream earlier, so dehydration wasn’t an immediate concern.

  The rest of the day passed quietly.

  I gathered a decent amount of grass—about eleven patches in total.

  Soon it would be time to return to town.

  Which meant I had to make a decision.

  Should I attempt the offering?

  Or not?

  I was completely torn.

  On one hand, it was something I would have to do eventually. Better to start early.

  On the other hand…

  Everything had gone surprisingly well today.

  Too well.

  The horrifying experience from two nights ago still haunted me. I wanted to enjoy a little normalcy before diving back into… whatever that had been.

  The sacrifice I had prepared wasn’t particularly impressive either.

  What if something went wrong?

  Then again, I would need to confirm sooner or later whether my plan even worked.

  In the end, I followed through with my original reasoning.

  I shouldn’t have been in such a hurry.

  But I was.

  Regeneration was amazing. People would kill for a skill like that.

  Ironically…

  I had died for it.

  Still, I wanted something a little more… offensive.

  Or at least something defensive that didn’t require me to be stabbed first.

  Over the past two days I had already tested Regeneration a little. Only shallow scratches, nothing serious.

  Even so, the healing speed had been… disappointing.

  Honestly, I still didn’t understand how I had survived those stabs.

  Then again, skills grew with training.

  Which meant using them.

  And I really wasn’t looking forward to training Regeneration.

  It wasn’t that I feared the pain.

  It was simply that nobody looked forward to hurting themselves for practice.

  At least, I hoped nobody did.

  Without realizing it, I had wandered into a secluded area.

  No hunters.

  No gatherers.

  No witnesses.

  A cold knot formed in my stomach.

  My mouth felt dry.

  I was nervous.

  But determined.

  I scanned the surroundings several times, half expecting someone to appear out of nowhere.

  No one did.

  No excuses left.

  I crouched down and pulled out my knife.

  For almost a full minute, I simply stared at it.

  Then I took a deep breath.

  Alright.

  Let’s do this.

  I pressed the blade against my thumb.

  The sting felt disgustingly familiar.

  I bit back a hiss and pushed the knife slightly deeper.

  Red surfaced.

  Slowly, I drew a line across the skin, letting a steady stream of blood flow.

  The ritual itself was simple.

  Using a relatively flat stone as my canvas, I began drawing.

  A circle.

  As round as I could manage.

  Then several internal lines forming a symbol I didn’t understand.

  Yet somehow, I knew exactly how it should look.

  My Path intuition told me it was a representation of my patron Hidden God.

  When the symbol was complete, I placed a handful of blue grass in the center of the circle.

  Then, for extra dramatic effect, I closed my eyes.

  And spoke.

  "I offer this sacrifice in Thy name."

  The words came out wrong.

  Lower.

  Rougher.

  Almost… guttural.

  It felt like the voice wasn’t coming only from my throat.

  It was coming from somewhere deeper.

  From my soul.

  Perhaps resonating would be a better word.

  Something was pulled out of me.

  Something else was pushed inside.

  Tears gathered behind my closed eyelids.

  I exhaled slowly, my warm breath turning into faint steam in suddenly cold air.

  When I opened my eyes—

  The blue grass was withering.

  Turning into ash.

  Not just the grass.

  My blood-drawn symbol was fading too.

  I stared at the circle, frozen in place.

  My mind struggling to catch up with what had just happened.

  Then a gentle breeze swept across the ground.

  The ashes scattered.

  And the unnatural cold disappeared.

  Somehow…

  I knew I had progressed in my path.

  “Just keep walking, you f**ing addict!”

  The words barely registered before the kick did.

  My knee buckled and I stumbled sideways into the street, catching myself on the wall before my face could introduce itself to the cobblestones.

  Behind me the door of the gambling den slammed shut.

  Laughter followed.

  The kind of laughter that sticks to your back like spit.

  I lingered there for a moment, staring at the closed door like it had personally betrayed me.

  It wasn’t fair.

  I had almost turned it around.

  Just one more round.

  Just a few more coins and the cards would’ve flipped. I knew it. The luck had been building. Anyone who played long enough could feel it.

  They had just thrown me out before the tide changed.

  Cheating bastards.

  I straightened, trying to regain some dignity that had clearly wandered off somewhere earlier that night.

  “Hey… hey, friend.”

  A well-dressed merchant was enjoying the night. I stepped into his path, offering what I hoped was a charming smile.

  “Care to help a man down on his luck? Just a few coins. I’m about to win it all back, I swear it.”

  He looked at me.

  Then at my clothes.

  Then at the door of the gambling house behind me.

  He didn’t even bother replying before walking around me like I was something unpleasant left on the road.

  Ungrateful bastard.

  Fine.

  Plenty of people in this city.

  The next one was a pair of young men leaving a tavern, still laughing about something.

  “Gentlemen! Gentlemen, wait—”

  One of them immediately groaned.

  “Oh no. Not another one.”

  “Just a few coins,” I insisted, trying to sound reasonable. “I was this close tonight. Just need a little push and I’ll pay it back double later.”

  They exchanged a look.

  One of them snorted.

  “You gamblers always say that.”

  “Well this time it’s true.”

  They kept walking.

  I tried a few more.

  A tired laborer.

  A pair of night working girls heading home.

  A guard who looked like he had had a bad day.

  Nothing.

  At one point I even leaned closer to a passing noble’s servant and murmured a suggestion that made the man recoil like I had spat in his ear.

  “Get away from me, you degenerate.”

  That one stung.

  Not because of the insult.

  Because he still hadn’t given me a coin.

  Eventually the street grew quieter.

  I leaned against a wall, breathing slowly while the world tilted slightly around me.

  The mist hanging over the street hinted the night had grown colder.

  But the cheap ale in my stomach and the lingering tickling of moon dust in my nose kept everything pleasantly numb.

  I sniffed and rubbed my face.

  What did Lia know anyway?

  Always nagging.

  Always complaining.

  You wasted the money.

  The children are hungry.

  We need firewood.

  It was exhausting listening to her.

  Did she think I enjoyed losing?

  This was all for them.

  One good win.

  That’s all it would take.

  One real win and everything would change.

  We’d leave the farm behind.

  No more freezing winters.

  No more dirt and broken tools.

  I’d buy us a house in a proper district.

  New clothes.

  Real food.

  The children would thank me one day.

  They just needed patience.

  So what if they had to skip a meal or two?

  Couldn’t they endure a little hardship for the family?

  Honestly, Lia should be grateful.

  Without me she’d still be stuck scraping mud off potatoes for the rest of her miserable life.

  Just wait.

  When I win, I’ll show her.

  Teach her some respect.

  Hell, why wait?

  Maybe I’ll teach her tonight.

  My lips curled into a numb, crooked smile.

  Something caught my eye.

  A few steps ahead, at the corner of an alley.

  A pouch.

  My gaze sharpened.

  Not just a pouch.

  A coin pouch.

  And coins…

  Coins were spilling out of it. Probably copper, but still...

  My breath caught.

  Was I seeing things?

  No.

  No, that was definitely metal glinting in the lantern light.

  I didn’t even remember deciding to move.

  My legs were already carrying me forward.

  Funny…

  The alley looked familiar.

  Then the memory crept back.

  Slow.

  Blurry.

  But unmistakable.

  Ah.

  Right.

  This was the place.

  The alley where I’d met that rat.

  That skinny little rat who had clutched his pouch like it was filled with royal gold instead of worthless scrap.

  My teeth clenched at the memory.

  Then I laughed.

  A short, ugly laugh.

  “Stupid rat,” I muttered, leaning down toward the pouch. “I got you good, didn’t I?”

  “You sure did.”

  The voice came from the darkness.

  Low.

  Cold.

  Wrong.

  Even through the haze of moon dust and ale, the sound sliced straight through my skull.

  The cold arrived next.

  Not the ordinary kind.

  This cold felt like it crawled inside my bones.

  My instincts screamed.

  Run.

  Run now.

  This place was wrong.

  This alley wasn’t meant for the living.

  My body started to recoil—

  But the pouch was right there.

  Just inches away.

  One second.

  That’s all I needed.

  Grab it.

  Run.

  I reached out.

  My fingers were just about to touch the leather when—

  Something grabbed my wrist.

  The cold exploded through my arm.

  It poured into my blood, flooding my veins like ice water.

  I looked down.

  A hand.

  No.

  Not a human hand.

  The fingers were too long.

  Too thin.

  Too cold.

  I tried to pull away.

  The grip tightened.

  The darkness of the alley seemed to swell, swallowing the lantern light behind me.

  Something tugged me deeper into it.

  I tried to fight.

  But my strength was draining away.

  Like the cold was drinking it.

  “W-what… what is this…?”

  My voice trembled.

  Why was this happening?

  Why me?

  I had done nothing wrong.

  Nothing!

  I had a family waiting for me.

  Lia.

  The kids.

  They needed me.

  I had to—

  “I have to go home,” I whimpered.

  No answer.

  Just the cold.

  Then the voice returned.

  “How many times was it again?”

  The question wasn’t asked.

  It was demanded.

  “I… I don’t know!” I sobbed. “I don’t understand! I don’t—”

  “Oh, right.”

  The voice carried a faint note of angry mockery.

  “I remember now.”

  "You—"

  Something sharp pressed against my stomach.

  “Stabbed me—”

  A quick sting.

  Higher this time.

  “Four—”

  Another.

  Pain bloomed across my chest.

  “Times.”

  A fourth.

  My legs collapsed beneath me.

  As I fell, I saw it reflecting moonlight.

  A blade.

  Crimson.

  Wet.

  The cold deepened until the entire world seemed frozen.

  My vision blurred.

  Darkness pressed in from every direction.

  Still, I heard the voice one last time.

  “This one—”

  Something plunged into my chest.

  Deeper than flesh.

  Deeper than bone.

  “—should have been given to you that day.”

  My heart stopped.

  And in the distance, faint and echoing, I heard a voice that wasn’t meant for me.

  “I offer this sacrifice in Thy name.”

  Then there was only darkness.