A Skill Maker: Reincarnation

The sun had slowly descended beyond the horizon. The heat, the warm breeze, and the golden rays faded, swallowed up by the cold's silent grip and the stillness of the night. The forest, once dappled in warm light, was now covered in a thick, heavy darkness — the kind that made it hard to see your own hands. A darkness so deep, it gave the monsters hiding in the shadows the upper hand, making it feel like the forest itself was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

Matthew sat on a thick tree branch, high up in a tree. Why? So he wouldn't get jumped while resting. So he could at least hear something climbing up before it bit into his leg. He had been grinding a stick into a dry log for what felt like hours, trying to start a fire using nothing but his hands, the dry wood, and sheer willpower. His palms were red and raw from the effort. A bundle of dry leaves rested on his lap, ready to catch the ember the moment it sparked. Every few minutes, he glanced down at them like they were his last hope.

Below him was pitch black, but the moon's faint light gave just enough glow to spot a small pile of sticks stacked right under the tree. A few steps beyond that, a gentle stream flowed south, the soft sound of running water barely noticeable beneath the silence of the woods. It was quiet, unnervingly so. No birds. No wind. Just the sound of his breathing and the steady grinding of wood against wood.

"Jesus CHRIST! Just ignite already, brother! I need the fire!" he growled, voice cracking from frustration and fatigue. He shoved down his rising panic as he rolled the stick between his palms faster, pressing it downward with everything he had. "This is why I hate outdoor survival in real life," he muttered, panting from the strain. His body trembled slightly as he fought through the exhaustion.

He was a mess. His face was dripping with sweat, his shirt clung to his skin like it had been soaked in a river, and his hair stuck to his forehead in messy clumps. It looked like someone had poured water over him, but this was all his own doing — just the result of effort, heat, and desperation. Wiping his brow with the back of his arm, he didn't stop. Couldn't stop. Not when the cold around him felt like it was trying to crawl under his skin.

Then, almost like a miracle, a single spark flickered to life. It was tiny and weak, but it was enough. The scent of smoke followed it, a faint wisp that made his heart jolt. He moved quickly, almost too quickly, grabbing the log and gently removing the stick. Leaning in, he blew softly on the small blackened dip in the wood, coaxing the ember into life. His hands moved with practiced caution as he transferred it to the dry leaves and fibrous materials resting in his lap. A few more careful breaths, and the glow began to spread.

He didn't even think before climbing down from the branch, landing with a grunt and stumbling toward the pile of kindling he had prepared earlier. Within minutes, a small fire was crackling before him. It wasn't much, but it was warm, and it lit up the dark like a beacon. Matthew stared at the flame with a strange look in his eyes, one filled with pride, exhaustion, and something close to relief. He nearly laughed.

He nearly cried. 'It's like I gave birth... minus the pain,' he thought to himself, voice dry as he fed the fire with more sticks and watched the flame grow into something steady.

"Now... let's heat some water," he whispered, his body already swaying slightly as he stood up. He walked over to a tree trunk nearby where he had set aside a bamboo stalk he had taken.

He had accidentally cut the top off earlier while fighting some monster and one his his blade cut it down for him. It open the sealed segment inside. It was hollow and clean — perfect for holding water.

He made his way to the stream, scooped up enough water to fill the bamboo, and walked back toward the fire. He crouched down and placed the bamboo beside the flame, keeping it stable and upright, careful not to spill a drop. Once he was satisfied, he finally allowed himself to breathe and sit again. As he stared at the fire, his thoughts began to drift.

"I've killed about sixteen of those wolves today," he thought to himself. "If my gut's right, they're E-rank monsters. But if they're stronger than that, then I've still got a long road ahead before I even come close to finishing this crap." He had checked the system earlier, hoping the quest tab would show his progress or at least some kind of score, but there was nothing. No tracker. No progress bar. Just a blank screen and silence.

"I've also used [Cut] five times today... I can already feel the effects of blood loss," he muttered as his eyes stayed locked on the flickering flame. Now that the fire illuminated his face, it was easy to see just how pale he was. His breathing had slowed, and his eyelids felt like they weighed a ton. His body was starting to react, warning him that he not to push too far.

Then, a sound broke the silence. A snap. A single twig being crushed under something heavy.

He immediately shot up to his feet and stepped back from the fire. The sound was faint, but in this silence, it might as well have been an explosion. He formed the Horse seal, then the Roo — but before he could finish, a massive figure burst through the shadows with a deep, guttural snort.

Without thinking, he dove to the side and rolled into the dirt, heart pounding in his ears. He scrambled back up and tried again to form the hand seal required to activate his skill. He waited, breath held. Another snort came from the darkness. Then, slowly, the creature stepped into the firelight.

A massive boar. Muscles thick and covered in dark bristles. Its tusks were long, chipped, and stained. It snorted again and stomped its rear leg. It was getting ready to charge.

Matthew's breathing calmed, eyes narrowing as he focused. He didn't panic. He didn't hesitate. With one steady breath, he spoke the word.

"Cut."

A thin gust of wind shot forward — quiet and almost invisible — like a line of death moving through the air. It struck the boar directly on its snout. The impact sent the beast flying back several feet. Its body hit the ground hard, and blood sprayed out in a sharp burst. But something was off. Instead of a clean slice, the attack had only torn into the surface. The blade hadn't gone all the way through.

"I—It survived??" Matthew's voice shook, disbelief painting his face as he stared at the twitching creature on the ground. It looked dazed, stunned, but far from dead. The boar struggled to its feet, legs trembling. It shook its massive head and fixed its furious gaze on him once more.

Matthew bent his knees, muscles tensing, arms steady. He watched as the boar pawed at the ground with its hind legs. It was going to charge again, and this time it wouldn't stop.

He formed the hand seal again, slower this time. Every movement felt heavy, but he pushed through. A beat passed. Then another. The air grew still. Then, with a roar and a snort, the boar launched forward at full speed, its head low and tusks aiming for his chest.

Matthew didn't flinch. At the last second, he leapt to the right and, mid-air, called out the skill.

Another blade of wind shot from his body, but this one was different. Stronger. Sharper. It tore into the side of the boar's neck as it passed, cutting deep into the flesh. The beast squealed in agony, stumbled mid-charge, and collapsed sideways. Blood poured out of its wound. The blade had carved through its windpipe, silencing it completely. A few seconds later, its head flopped against the dirt, connected to its body only by a few strands of skin.

The fight was over.

Matthew stood over the corpse, but there was no victory in his expression. No pride. Just exhaustion. That had been his seventh time using [Cut] today, and his body was screaming at him. His heart pounded too fast, trying to make up for the blood he had lost. His head throbbed, his vision blurred, and his balance was off.

He groaned softly, rubbing at his temple to keep himself upright. Then, moving on instinct, he walked over to the boar's body and looked at its leg. "This is the last use for today," he mumbled to himself. He formed the seal once more and used the skill again, slicing off the boar's right hind leg.

The rest of the night passed in silence. He spent it skinning the meat using a sharp rock, peeling off the thick hide with slow, shaky hands, and roasting it over the fire. Once he had eaten, he climbed back up into the tree and finally let himself sleep.

⋯

By the time the sun had reached its peak, Matthew looked like death.

He stood near a tree, leaning heavily against the trunk for support. His white shirt clung to his body. His green joggers were stained with blood and dirt. His eyes were red, his skin pale as a ghost. His hands trembled as he rubbed his temple, and when he took a step forward, his body swayed like he might collapse. He had to grab onto the tree just to keep himself from falling.

The ground felt like it was shaking under his feet. His vision kept narrowing. His ears were ringing so loud it was hard to focus. His knees were barely holding him up, and his back was soaked in cold sweat. He was shivering.

[Cut] Usage: 12

Blood Loss: 600ml

Score: 550

Status: Dire

Second day inside the dungeon.

"Ugh... shit. I think I'm about to pass out," he muttered, blinking hard to stay awake. His body was barely functioning. Every step felt like walking underwater. Around him, the scene of a fresh battle. Eleven lizard men, sliced in half at the waist, their upper bodies lying just a few feet from their legs. He had baited them into thinking he was surrounded... then wiped them all out in one go.

But now his brain was foggy. He couldn't think straight. Couldn't even remember how far he had walked. His body was on autopilot, dragging him forward through muscle memory alone.

Then everything changed.

Something slammed into him out of nowhere. His body was flung through the air like a ragdoll and smashed into a tree with a heavy crunch. The breath was ripped from his lungs, and when he hit the ground, he couldn't hold it back anymore. He vomited all over the dirt and gasped, trying to suck in air.

Propping himself up with both arms, he blinked in confusion. "What happened...? Did something hit me?" He lifted his head slowly. "Was it another boar? I didn't even hear it..."

Then he saw him.

A guy in a robe, holding a staff, standing just a few feet away. His eyes were full of smug confidence, like he had just found a prize.

"Can't believe my luck today," the man said with a laugh. "Second time I've found a banged-up, easy target."

Matthew stared, heart pounding. "Why... why is this guy attacking me? I didn't even do anything..." he thought. Using the tree to push himself up, he managed to stand, barely.

"W-What are you doing? I'm human, you moron," he said aloud, voice thin and shaky.

"Huh? You think I'm blind, you stupid idiot?" the man sneered. "I'm after your score, dipshit. Now stay still and let me kill you."

The man pointed his staff and began casting something. Matthew didn't have time to dodge. The spell went off.

And then the world flipped.

He was flying high up in the air.

The sky spun above him. And the ground was quickly approaching.

Then — black.

⋯

He was standing.

In front of something... massive. A being so large and overwhelming, he couldn't even see its shape. Its presence crushed him, made it hard to breathe, hard to exist. His soul felt like it was creaking under the pressure. But before he thought he was about yo implode —

His eyes snapped open.

"I'm... alive?" he whispered, shocked. He turned his head, and pain shot through every part of his body. "Ribs... probably broken." he looked down to his chest. Then he remembered — the guy.

He looked up and saw him. The same smug bastard, still walking toward him.

"What the fuck? You're still alive? Alright, let's try again—"

"Cut."

The word left Matthew's mouth, steady and low. His hands were locked in the Serpent seal, he had started forming the seal when he saw the guy and had quickly casted it. Blood streamed down his face. He looked more dead than alive.

With a wet, dull thud, the stranger's head dropped to the dirt. His body followed right after.

Matthew didn't even react, he didn't spare the dead man a glance. He groaned, stood up with effort, and turned away. "I need to rest in a safe place... I should go..."

He stopped. His eyes drifted back to the man's body. There was a bag on his back.

⋯

In a hidden corner of the forest, buried under a patch of dense bushes, Matthew leaned against a mossy boulder. The open bag rested in his lap.

'I really killed a guy, huh...' he thought, staring down at the bag with blank eyes. Maybe it was the exhaustion, but it didn't hit him like he thought it would. Maybe it was because the guy had attacked first. Maybe because he hadn't had a choice. Either way, he wasn't sure how to feel.

'...Mistakes huh?' He couldn't help but recall the principal words. He made a mistake, he thought a fellow human wouldn't attack him just for some score... He was wrong about that. Shaking his head he turned his attention to another thing.

His hands shook as he opened the bag, struggling with the motion. His fingers felt like they were barely attached. Inside were three small bottles filled with red liquid.

"Potions?" he mumbled, uncertain.

Maybe.

Maybe not.

"ugh...I feel like I'm running on power-saving mode... shit..." he groaned, tilting his head up and staring into the leaves above. If he passed out here, he was done for. Not from blood loss, not directly. But because he was covered in it — and if anything smelled him, it would come running. And he wouldn't be able to fight back.

"So, I either die from a monster... or I die from whatever's in these bottles..." he muttered, voice barely a whisper. He stared at one of the bottles. It glowed faintly in his shaky hand.

"Well... I'd say let's go gambling." he laughed weakly and uncorked the bottle before chugging it down.