The sun beamed with an aggressive energy, flooding the Fidalion forest with a light so golden it made the world look like a high-definition painting. To any other traveler, the sounds of nature—the distant, melodic trill of birds and the soft hum of insects—would have been pleasant, even relaxing. But to Haru, it felt uncanny. Over the last few days, he had faced almost no true danger other than that one lone goblin. In a forest this lush and magical, the silence of the apex predators felt like a held breath, as if the world were waiting for a curtain to rise.

  Haru woke to a rhythmic, scratching sound coming from the cabin door. He groaned, his forty-year-old soul protesting the stiffness in his seventeen-year-old back after a night spent sleeping upright in a wooden chair. He blinked his eyes open, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his bone knife, but he stopped when he saw the source of the noise.

  Martha was already fully awake.

  She had found the makeshift broom Haru had tied together from Mandalion twigs and was currently engaged in a life-or-death struggle with the dirt floor. She was far too small for the tool, her tiny hands gripped tight as she clumsily swept the entrance. She wasn't so much "cleaning" as she was moving the dust from one corner to the other with a look of extreme, deadpan concentration—that "Saitama face" that made it impossible to tell what she was thinking.

  The moment Martha noticed Haru was awake, her body language shifted instantly. She dropped the broom with a loud clatter and ran toward the bed. With the frantic agility of a toddler, she scrambled up the moss mattress and lunged for him, clutching his sleeve as if he were the only solid thing in a shifting world.

  "G-good morning... Pa..." she whispered.

  Haru’s brain stalled. The "System" didn't give him a notification, and no level-up sound echoed in his ears, but he felt an emotional critical hit that reduced his logic to zero. Pa. He was seventeen in this body, but forty in his heart—and that forty-year-old heart had just been claimed.

  "I will be back, okay?" Haru said after a moment, his voice slightly thick. Martha gave him a vigorous wave and immediately went back to her "work" with the broom, her small frame hunching over the twigs with renewed energy.

  Haru embarked into the forest, his mind racing. He knew she would get tired of the same rabbit meat and roots, just as he was. He had promised a "hearty feast," and a "Pa" didn't break his promises. He moved through the ferns, his eyes scanning for anything new.

  ‘Rabbit meat is fine for survival,’ he thought, ‘but a growing kid needs variety. And vitamins. And probably something that doesn't taste like "gamey" despair.’

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  Deep in the treeline, he heard it: a raspy, metallic clucking.

  Haru dropped into a crouch, hiding behind a silver-barked tree. He peeked around the trunk and saw three birds pecking at the dirt. They looked like plump chickens, but they were monstrous. Instead of feathers, thick, reptilian scales trailed behind them like a cape. A third, vertical eye sat in the center of their foreheads, blinking with a yellow slit. And when they snapped at insects, they revealed rows of serrated, needle-sharp teeth.

  [Appraisal Successful]

  Target: Herald Chicken (Level 4)

  Nature: Aggressive / Territorial

  “Known for their piercing cries that alert the forest to intruders. Their scales are tough, and their bite can snap bone.”

  ‘Heralds,’ Haru noted, his grip tightening. ‘If they scream, they’ll bring every monster in the forest straight to the cabin—and Martha is alone.’

  This wasn't just a hunt; it was an assassination. Haru moved like a shadow. He tossed a handful of dried seeds to distract them, then lunged. His bone knife flashed in the sun, taking down the first bird in a single, silent strike.

  [Critical Hit! Stealth Bonus applied.]

  When the lead Herald Chicken hissed, preparing to let out a screech, Haru used his Construction knowledge to kick a heavy log, tripping the bird over its own scaled tail. As it tumbled, Haru dived, pinning the beast and muffling its cry before finishing it with a decisive thrust. The final bird tried to bolt, but Haru launched a sharpened Mandalion stick, catching it mid-run.

  [Level Up! Haru: Level 3 -> Level 4]

  New Skill Acquired: [Precision Throw - Level 1]

  Loot: Herald Meat (x3), Scaled Hide (x3), Herald Eggs (x2)

  Haru’s status screen flickered: Health: 49/80. The scratches from the scales stung, and his tunic was shredded, but he had the prize. He found the nest and carefully retrieved two shimmering, rainbow-hued eggs.

  When Haru pushed open the cabin door, the floor was so clean it practically glowed. Martha was standing exactly where he had left her, holding the broom like a soldier on guard. But when she saw the blood and the bruises on Haru’s arms, her eyes went wide.

  "Pa...!"

  She dropped the broom and dashed across the room. Her "Saitama" face was gone, replaced by pure, agonizing worry. She grabbed his hand, and a faint, emerald-green light began to pulse from her palms.

  [Notice: High Elf Passive Skill - 'Forest’s Mercy' has been triggered]

  The pain evaporated instantly. The gashes knitted together, leaving only faint white lines. Haru stood there, stunned. "You... you healed me?"

  Martha gave a tiny, almost invisible nod. She then pointed at the bag. "Food?"

  Haru laughed, the tension finally breaking. He spent the next hour butchering the meat and heating a flat stone. He cracked the Herald Eggs, the golden yolks swirling with orange as they sizzled on the heat. The aroma of sweet cream and toasted nuts filled the cabin.

  He handed a bark plate to Martha. "For you. Because you were a hard worker today."

  Martha took a bite, her eyes catching fire with joy. But as she finished, she stopped kicking her feet. She stared at Haru's torn clothes, her chin beginning to tremble.

  Haru smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, Martha. I am strong enough to handle myself... You shouldn't worry about it."

  But those words were the wrong ones.

  "If Papa died... I... I...!"

  Martha lashed out, her voice a raw, jagged sound. Tears began streaming down her face, and she began to cry—not a soft sob, but a heartbroken wail. She looked like a child who had already watched her whole world disappear once before.

  Haru’s heart felt like it had been diced and burned. The "Emotional Damage" was far worse than anything the chickens had dealt him. He wasted no time and pulled her into a fierce, tight hug. His own tears began to fall, mixing with hers.

  "I won't die... I won't leave you," Haru vowed, his voice thick. "Don't ever think about me leaving you... because that is one thing I could never forgive myself for."

  Martha looked up, her opal eyes wet and red, and hugged him back with a strength that shouldn't have been possible, squeezing him so tight as if to ensure he could never slip away. Inside the small cabin, amidst the scent of a finished feast and the golden morning sun, a family had finally been forged.