Calamity Awakens

The storm took me.

Lightning ripped through my soul as space folded and screamed. I wasn't flying—I was being dragged. My body twisted, my thoughts stretched thin like thread through a needle's eye. I caught glimpses between the flashes—a burning world, a still ocean, a moon carved into a throne—before darkness swallowed them all.

Just when I thought I'd break apart, the cold hit me like a hammer to the chest

I slammed into snow and shadow, breath torn from my lungs.

"They better not all be like that." I grumbled to myself shivering in the new world and life.

Back in the Lord's Domain, the lightning faded. Silence returned like falling snow.

Vero remained still, watching the space Harold had vanished from. His voice, when it came, was quiet:

"You gave him more than you were allowed."

Gerold didn't bother denying it. He leaned against a marble column, arms crossed and a smirk tugging at the edge of his lips.

"I gave him what he earned."

"He is still untested."

"So were we…"Gerold's smile faded slightly and a more panicked expression showed. "I should have offered him a contract when I had the chance"

Vero's eyes narrowed slightly, but he let it pass. He turned, the folds of his toga rippling with divine weight.

"If he fails, I'm docking your pay."

"You don't pay me."

"Exactly"

Grabbing my pack, I scrambled through the knee-deep snow toward the low-hanging boughs of a frost-laden pine. The short dash was enough to soak through my pants and boots, every step a freezing slap. I ducked under the tree's shelter, breath coming in hard clouds, and dropped to my knees.

Fumbling with numb fingers, I yanked open the pack. The winter gear was buried near the bottom—thick wool-lined pants, a heavy coat, thermal gloves, and a fur-lined hood. I tore off my soaked clothes and pulled the new ones on as fast as I could.

Warmth returned in slow waves, chasing the cold from my chest.

"Would be nice if I had something to fight with," I muttered, cinching the coat tight. "Right now, I can barely run away… and I'm Tier 1. I probably can't run away from much."

I scanned the horizon through the snowy veil. Nothing yet— the snow was calm but this place felt like it was watching.

Stealth would have to be my first skill, my survival depended on it.

"Hard to hide tracks in snow though," I muttered again, looking at the trail I'd already left behind me like a blinking arrow.

Settling under the tree, I opened the pack again, more carefully this time. Time to inventory. I needed to know exactly what I had… and what I didn't.

The first thing I pulled out was a bundle of tightly packed rations—flatbread, dried meat, nutrient bars sealed in wax. Enough for a week if I was careful.

Next was a small survival kit: flint striker, cordage, needle and thread, a folding knife just sharp enough to be considered useful, and a spool of fine steel wire and a wired saw. Clever inclusions.

Then my fingers brushed something smooth and warm.

I turned the heatstone over in my gloved hand again, watching the way the blue lines pulsed in time with… something. I narrowed my eyes, focusing harder. There had to be more to it than what I was seeing.

I squinted, trying to remember how Vero and Gerold looked at things—how they seemed to see through them.

A subtle pulse of warmth traveled from the stone into my fingers, then up my arm.

A single word appeared in the corner of my vision, faint and flickering like breath on glass:

Allows you to reveal basic information about creatures, objects, or items within your understanding.

The stone suddenly flared with quiet blue light as the text shifted in my mind:

I snorted. Typical Gerold—helpful, smug, and condescending all at once.

Still, I pressed the heatstone close and let it nestle into the inside pocket of my coat. My breath stopped fogging. The warmth bled out across my chest like sunlight through ice.

"Okay," I whispered, my voice steadier. "Let's see what else you gave me."

The rest of the pack held:

A rolled-up thermal bedroll, lined with monster-hide and surprisingly light.

A small waterskin

A silver coin pouch—clinking softly. I counted: 23 pieces, stamped with the Lord's sigil.

A palm-sized compass

At the very bottom… a small blank journal and a stubby pencil tied to it with twine.

Utility Knife

Recruitment portal stone

I used Inspect on the portal stone.

I flipped open the notebook, the pages already stiff from the cold. My breath fogged the air as I wrote, the pen scratching against the paper like a whisper in the wind.

Priorities:

Shelter

– Something hidden. Out of the wind. Defensible.

Food

– No signs of wildlife yet. Might need to trap or scavenge. Can I even kill anything with traps?

Brand a creature

– Before Vero calls me into a Calamity. No creatures, no power.

Water

– Covered. Snow everywhere.

Defense

– No weapons, no magic, no innate strength. I'll need a shield, a trap, something sharp

Learn skills

– Maybe I can unlock something beyond just "Inspect." Anything that helps me not die sounds good right now.

I tore a small strip from the page, folded it, and tucked it inside the pack—just in case I didn't make it. Maybe someone would know I tried.

The snow drifted heavier. Somewhere distant, a low howl echoed between the peaks.

"I need to move soon," I muttered. "This tree won't protect me forever."

But for one last moment, I closed my eyes and rested my head against the bark.

I had my moment of self pity and gathered my will. "Time to move. If I was a betting man I'd bet most of the natural flora and fauna here have the same priorities as me. Which means the mountains will be busy. Full of caves of creatures looking to hide from the weather which means caves of creatures looking to hunt. I can't head there until I've gotten some kind of stealth or hiding skill. Suddenly a panel appeared in front of me,

I stared at it, heart thudding.

"Twenty-six hours," I whispered. "Of course, Dammit Vero"

I shut the notebook and shoved it deep into the pack. My fingers brushed the Recruitment Portal Stone—its surface now faintly pulsing with soft light. "Time to move," I muttered again. Louder this time. Firmer. I pushed myself up and stepped out from under the snow-laden branches. The cold bit at my exposed skin, but the jacket held.

I moved out in a crouch toward the mountains, forcing myself to take bold action—now wasn't the time for caution. I needed skills, and quickly. Straining my senses, I scanned my surroundings for anything out of the ordinary, my body tense with the effort of disturbing as little as possible.

Thankfully, the wax-covered clothing was doing a decent job keeping me warm and dry, even as I pushed through dense snowdrifts.

After twenty minutes of slow, methodical movement, my muscles burned with exhaustion. I paused, breathing heavily. A glance behind told me everything I needed to know: the trail I'd left was as subtle as if a rhino had barreled through the area.

So much for hiding.

"I can't keep going like this," I muttered, my mind racing to weigh the options still available to me.

I thought back to how I'd gained the Inspect skill—how I'd studied the object closely, intently, until something clicked.

Maybe I've been spreading myself too thin, I thought. Let's narrow my focus. One thing at a time.

I slowed my breathing, calmed my thoughts, and concentrated fully on how I moved across the snow. Each step deliberate, each movement precise, trying to sink less, disturb less, leave fewer signs of my passing.

Suddenly, a voice echoed through the wind.

My heart pounded. Without thinking, I dove beneath a low-hanging branch, frantically scooping snow over myself, trying desperately not to move. I needed to vanish.

Voices grew louder—speaking sharply in a language I didn't understand—as footsteps crunched rapidly through the nearby woods. I squeezed my eyes shut, not daring to breathe, praying they wouldn't notice my trail or hiding spot.

Gradually, the voices faded, swallowed by distance and falling snow. I opened my eyes, heart still hammering, and noticed a blinking exclamation point at the edge of my vision.

Holding my breath, I opened it.

My excitement grew as I read the descriptions again. The first real hint of danger, and I'd gained exactly the skills I needed. There was no way that was just coincidence. Maybe Vero was onto something after all with his whole "hardest paths make the hardest people" philosophy. But then again, that was mostly true back on Earth, too—so long as you managed to avoid the bitterness that often came with it.

Brushing off snow, I slowly emerged from my hiding spot and carefully tested my newfound abilities. I could feel the skills subtly nudging me, suggesting where to step and where to avoid.

Not there, the sensation whispered, the snowpack's already fractured—your foot would sink. Try here instead.

It was strange—like having a cautious instructor in my ear, gently guiding each step. Trusting these subtle hints was difficult, almost unnatural, but gradually my confidence grew.

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I moved quietly along the path left by the voices, my eyes sharp, heart beating softly beneath my coat. Between snow-covered pines, their tracks stretched deeper into the forest, back toward the mountains. I paused, crouching down to carefully study their footprints.

The snowfall was already starting to fill them in, and their tracks were nowhere near as deep as mine. They must have skills helping them move quietly and lightly—similar to what I just gained. If I found these tracks 20 mins later, I never would have noticed their passage at all.

Local hunters from a nearby village, maybe?

It was impossible to say for sure, especially since their language had been completely foreign to me. I couldn't risk approaching anyone until I understood more. But if they had come down from the mountains, perhaps they wouldn't return this way for some time. And if they truly were hunters, they might have left something behind—something I could scavenge.

With caution and hope equally mingled, I pressed forward along the fading trail studying the tracks as best I could.

Another notification showed in my vision

I blinked, surprised again at how fast the system responded to intent. "All right then lets see where this trail leads"

I looked up, finally having a path and plan to follow going forward.

For hours, I tracked the remnants of their trail. The prints had long since disappeared—filled in by snowfall—but I pressed on. The howls started echoing through the pines, growing closer as I neared the mountains. The forest thickened around me, trees ancient and wide, their trunks like pillars holding up a ceiling of drifting snow and fading light.

By now, I was deep in the foothills, where the trees thinned and the terrain grew steep. I moved slower, cautious, trying to remain invisible to anything in the area. Every step felt like a whisper against the wind.

As I moved I gained 6 levels of Snowalk, 2 in Stealth, and 2 in Tracking. I found a few other tracks but couldn't identify what kind of creature they came from. "I need to find shelter soon" I muttered as the temperature was already dropping. I could feel it even through the heatstone and warm clothing and I wasn't eager to be caught out here in the frost-bitten night.

I slowly crested the hill, keeping low to avoid silhouetting myself against the horizon. Nearly crawling through the snow, I tried to stay hidden. The shadows lengthened around me as dusk crept in, and I looked up at the mountains looming above. They were immense—far larger and more imposing than the ranges back on Earth. Those mountains got cold in the winter, sure, but this… this was something else entirely. Without the heatstone pressed close to my chest, I had no doubt I'd already be freezing to death, heavy winter clothing or not.

Scanning the ridgelines and spurs for signs of shelter, my eyes locked onto movement in the trees. A massive bear lumbered through the snow-draped pines, its enormous body straining to squeeze between the trunks. Its fur was thick and frosted, its breath steaming in the frigid air. A terrifying presence—pure muscle wrapped in nature's armor.

Heart racing, I focused my intent and activated Inspect.

"Damn, too far away," I muttered, frustrated. "Who knows what level that thing is, or how far it can detect me. There's no way it's still in its Initiate tier. That beast has to be at least Tier 3 or 4."

My breath misted as I watched the massive bear trudge through the snow-laden woodline, its hulking form slow but unstoppable. Then my eyes widened. A pack of wolves—frost-rimmed and the size of small horses—were creeping silently behind it. My instincts took over and I pressed myself deeper into the snow, barely daring to breathe.

I couldn't outrun wolves back on Earth. I sure as hell wasn't outrunning these.

Without a sound, the pack lunged forward. The bear, impossibly fast for its size, spun around and caught the first leaping wolf midair with a crushing swipe. The beast slammed into a tree and didn't get back up.

The bear didn't stop moving.

Each swipe of its claws shattered bone and scattered snow. It barreled through the pack with terrifying power, shrugging off bites and slashes like they were mosquito stings. The wolves, agile and numerous, tried to press in from all sides—darting in, snapping, retreating—but the bear was a wall of muscle and frostbitten fury.

The clash of predator versus predator filled the night with echoes of roars and howls. Towering trees, some thicker than redwoods, splintered as the bear smashed through the undergrowth, unwilling to be cornered.

A wolf finally got lucky, sinking its fangs deep into the bear's rear leg, tearing into the tendon. The beast stumbled, its charge slowed, its movements less fluid. More wolves followed, taking slivers off it one bite at a time.

Then the bear reared back and let loose a roar that cracked through the trees like thunder. The air shifted. The falling snow turned into a sudden storm of whirling hail—slivers sharp enough to draw blood. The wolves yelped and scattered, their formation broken.

A distant, echoing howl rang out. A retreat order.

The pack fled, leaving six of their own behind, torn and unmoving in the snow.

The bear, panting and bleeding, grabbed one of the dead wolves in its jaws and limped deeper into the forest—dragging its prize behind it, victorious but wounded.

The forest went quiet as the battle ended and players retreated. I smiled despite myself, I saw magic, real magic not the invisible kind that Vero did. That bear had some kind of frost or snow magic that could storm around itself.

Another exclamation point blinked in my vision—Stealth leveled up. +4 levels.

The most I'd ever gained at once.

I crept down the hill toward the remnants of the battle, eyes sharp and steps deliberate. I needed anything I could scavenge from the fallen wolves—meat, fur, claws. Whatever might help me survive out here.

Using my fledgling stealth skills, I moved from shadow to shadow, careful not to draw attention. The fight had been loud enough to attract scavengers of all kinds, and I wasn't interested in being caught by them.

As I reached the nearest corpse, I drew the small utility knife from its sheath on my hip. If I could pry out some claws or teeth, I might be able to fashion a basic spear—or set some traps. I worked fast, knowing time wasn't on my side. The blade was sharp enough for smaller tasks, but it wasn't up to the challenge of dissecting a high-tier creature. Still, I managed to collect a few claws and canines before moving on. This one's coat was too cut up to be usable.

One of the wolves had been slammed into a tree instead of crushed. It looked more intact.

I approached carefully—and froze.

Its eyes were open. Watching me.

A low growl slipped from its throat, weak but threatening. Snow whipped through the trees, a sudden gust slipping into my coat and freezing me in place.

It was still alive.

Before I could retreat, a blur shot through the trees.

A howl.

Instinct took over. I dove aside as a smaller wolf barreled through the snow where I'd just stood. I hit the ground hard, twisting to keep my eyes on it.

The young wolf turned just as quickly, never losing sight of me.

I spun back to the downed one, heart racing. The realization hit.

That wasn't just a wounded wolf. That was its mother.

And this was her pup.

At that realization, the pup lunged again—canines bared, jaws open to tear into me.

I dove aside, barely escaping its charge. My breath hitched. I couldn't outrun it. And worse—I couldn't kill it.

Options. I needed options.

I ran through my inventory, mind racing. One idea. One desperate thought I'd toyed with back during my forest trek.

I yanked the wire coil meant for traps from my belt and looped it between my hands, forming a crude garrote.

Behind me, the mother wolf let out a broken snarl, dragging her broken body forward. I didn't have long.

The pup crouched again. Its muscles rippled—ready to pounce.

I moved first.

I sidestepped with all the subtlety my Snow Walk skill could grant, then whipped the garrote forward. It looped over the young wolf's neck as I pulled it back into a makeshift rear naked choke. My legs tangled with its hind limbs, locking down.

The wolf thrashed violently, crying out in panic. Behind me, the mother screamed in helpless desperation. My arms burned from the strain. I didn't know if this would work. I couldn't deal direct damage—but maybe I could cut off its airflow.

Everything needed to breathe... right?

I pulled harder. My strength—meager though it was—strained at its limits. The pup's resistance faltered… slowed… and then stopped.

I kept the pressure on for a few seconds more. Then, panting hard, I let go and rolled away.

It was alive. Still breathing.

Behind me, the mother dragged herself forward—each movement pure agony—but she didn't stop.

"I didn't kill him," I said softly, raising my hands. "He's okay."

Her eyes locked onto the pup's unconscious body, his chest rising and falling with shallow breath.

"I'm gonna move him closer, alright? Don't… don't blast me with an ice storm or something."

I crouched beside the pup and gently grabbed his hind legs. The mother growled—low, guttural—but weaker this time.

"Just trying to help," I muttered, inching toward her, dragging the limp body close. I stayed well away from her head. If she had any kind of ranged attack, it'd come from there.

She didn't strike.

Instead, she crawled the final few inches and curled around her pup, sniffing him all over in frantic panic.

I let out a shaky breath. My clothes were soaked, my hands numb, and my body ached. But I couldn't stop. I still had to survive.

There were a few bodies still intact. I carved what meat I could from one, packing it into snowballs to try and contain the scent. It wouldn't last forever—but it'd buy me time.

I approached the mother again, keeping my posture low and unthreatening. Her massive body shielded her son now, but her spine was clearly broken—shattered at the base.

How was she still alive?

Tier 2? Tier 3? I still had no way to know.

Wait—

My eyes widened.

"Identify."

Identity gained 7 levels just from successfully identifying the wolf. I couldn't see much information but it was better than nothing. I still couldn't tell what tier it was but I figured that meant at least tier 3.

"Is your pack gonna come back for your young one, you don't have much time left and judging for how he came back for you. Despite being a frost wolf he has a hot head."

Her eyes studied me as she lay there, bleeding into the snow. Slowly, she turned her gaze back to the tree she'd been hurled against—like she was retracing the final steps of her life.

On impulse, I reached out and gently stroked behind her ears. She tensed at the contact, breath hitching… then relaxed beneath my touch.

As hard as this class made things, I was glad I had chosen it. There was a strange peace in it—a softness I hadn't expected. I'd lived one life full of violence. Maybe this one could be about building something… creating, not destroying. Even if it felt hypocritical in this moment.

I sat beside the dying frost wolf and rested a hand on her head as she passed—quietly, beside her son.

Just before the light left her eyes, I felt more than saw the notification flicker into my vision.

I dismissed the notification and opened the next.

Not surprised by the skill increase, but surprised by the mark I gained—and with no clue what it really meant.
"Now… what to do with you," I muttered, glancing down at the sleeping wolf. I needed to keep going; I'd been here too long already, and the cold was getting worse.

I pulled out some of the dried meat from my pack. The rations would've lasted me a week anywhere else, but with the amount of calories I was burning in this cold, it was probably closer to three or four days.
I waved the meat near the pup's nose, trying to rouse him from his nap.
Leaving the meat next to him, I ran a gloved hand over his head and then gave him a firm tap on the side. I immediately backed away.

A few seconds passed before the wolf's eyes snapped open. He sprang to his feet, disoriented at first. The moment he saw me, he tensed to leap—until he caught sight of his mother's body.
The energy drained from him, and he sat back down heavily.
"I'm sorry for your mother. She was a majestic creature," I said, my voice quiet.
The wolf gave me a brief glance, then raised his head to the sky and released a long, mournful howl.

"I uh… hate to rush you on this," I began, rubbing my arms for warmth, "but I need to keep moving. Can you find your way back to your pack… or do you want to come with me? I need to find shelter for the night. I've got more food…if you want it."

The wolf barely looked at him and laid down by his mother.

"Look I can't stay here and I'm sure there are other dangerous things out there. It's getting dark and I need to find some shelter. You're welcome around my fire if you want to join me and can find me."

The pup still barely looking at me didnt move.

I sighed heavily to myself hoping to brand this young frost wolf but knowing it wasnt gonna happen right now.

"Time to move," I said to myself, exhausted from the day. I turned around, grabbed my snowball of meat, and set off toward the mountains, still looking for shelter.

After walking for thirty minutes, I knew I needed to find cover now. The storm had worsened, and the snow was coming down in thick sheets. I could barely see in front of me, and I had long since lost any sense of direction. With no other option, I found a large snowbank and started to burrow into it, working as quickly as I could to stay warm.

I dug into the bank and hollowed out a small cave, then built a raised bed from packed snow to sleep on—hoping the colder air would settle below and keep me marginally warmer. Theoretically, anyway. It was freezing everywhere, and I doubted it would help much. Still, I used some of the loose snow to wall off the entrance, careful to leave air holes, and poked a few extra vents through the top just in case. With how heavily it was snowing, I'd probably have to wake up every few hours to dig myself out again.

I pulled my pack over and retrieved the heavy sleeping bag. I couldn't wait to get inside it and finally feel warm.

"Couldn't give me a nice, warm, remote planet, could he?" I muttered bitterly. "Just had to pick the cold, remote one. Oh, hard paths, hard people, blah blah blah. Friggin' Vero. I hate being cold."

Just as I climbed into the bag and started to relax, I heard digging—just outside.

Ice shot down my spine as I scrambled to get out of the bag, bumping into the snow walls of my little shelter. I had just gotten my feet free when a snout pushed through the entrance—teeth bared in a low growl, barely audible over the wind.

I kicked myself free of the bag and backed up, preparing for a fight with what looked like a large winter fox. But just as it started to force its way inside, it was yanked back with a surprised yelp. I heard a furious growl and the sounds of a scuffle—then another sharp yelp, and silence.

This time, a different snout pushed its way into the shelter.

I braced again—but then recognized it. The young frost wolf crawled inside, collapsing more of the entrance behind him.

"Well," I said, half-laughing, half-sighing, "I guess we're even now. We've both saved each other's lives."

The wolf huffed at me and shuffled past in the narrow space, heading straight for my pack. He nosed around until he found the rest of the dried meat and began chewing.

"Oh, come on," I groaned. "I was saving that to eat in the sleeping bag. You can eat the raw stuff over there—leave me that, at least."

I reached out to take it from him, but he turned his head quickly to block me.

"Fine, fine. Take it too. Who doesn't love a good ration bar anyway?" I turned around, already exasperated. "Just make yourself comfortable, I guess. I've gotta rebuild this wall you just caved in."

As I reshaped the entrance, blocking out the wind again, I turned to find the wolf already curled up inside my sleeping bag.

"You've got to be kidding me... You can take my food, but not my bag! Scoot over—I'm getting in."

One of his eyes opened, then closed again—clearly enjoying himself.

"You better move. I'm climbing in."

That night, Harold slept better than he had in recent memory.