Greetings Daniel, you have died. Generating system…

  System Generated: Gourmet System.

  Congratulations! Due to your actions with the System: Quest, you have been awarded the following starting stats: Willpower +1, Perception +1.

  An earthy smell assaulted Daniel’s nose. A gentle breeze blew against his face.

  Daniel's eyes shot open, and he quickly surveyed his surroundings. He was back in the clearing, unharmed, but even beyond that something was off—he felt sluggish, as though his body was moving through molasses.

  He had a sinking suspicion as to why.

  “System.”

  Ding!

  Status

  Name: Daniel

  System: Gourmet

  Stats

  Strength: 1

  Constitution: 1

  Dexterity: 2

  Intelligence: 4

  Willpower: 4

  Perception: 3

  System Abilities:

  Epicurean Sense: Detects the properties of any food, revealing beneficial or harmful effects. Makes food taste far better, boosting mood and restoring minor health.

  Master of Flavors: Combine ingredients to create dishes that grant buffs like enhanced stamina or health regeneration. High-quality meals may grant a random stat boost.

  Gastronomic Healing:

  Eating food heals a percentage of health based on quality. Rare or nutritious dishes may permanently increase stats.

  Just like he thought. He had died and returned to the clearing, but his stats hadn’t followed him.

  Or had they?

  The screen suggested some had carried over. What did he do in the last loop to earn these?

  The thought hit him like a cold wave.

  Last loop.

  He was certain now—either he was respawning, or he was trapped in a time loop. And the latter seemed far more likely.

  He glanced at the edge of the clearing and spotted an unbroken twig. That was enough proof for him. It was the same one he had snapped when the wolves—

  Wait. The wolves!

  His thoughts broke off as he frantically scanned his surroundings. Nothing in sight, but that didn’t mean much.

  He calmed himself, recalling that the wolves didn’t show up until a few minutes after he appeared. He had time. If he left their territory, he didn’t think they’d come after him.

  Gathering himself and double-checking that he had everything, Daniel started toward the edge of the clearing, moving away from the spot where he knew the wolves would appear.

  Daniel pressed on, a cool breeze ruffling his hair. He was trying to focus, but it was hard.

  Everything about this place was strange. A world that reset itself every time he died.

  It was unnerving.

  To distract himself, Daniel turned his attention back to his status. Why had some stats transferred, but not others?

  He remembered the start of the last loop—there had been no screen, no indication that he’d earned more stats. What was different this time? Was it because Willpower and Perception had increased more than any other stat?

  Something about that just didn’t sit right.

  "Why those two?" he muttered under his breath, frowning at the screen. "Why not just my highest stat? Or my top three?"

  Frustrated, he looked at the numbers again, comparing them to his previous totals.

  12 Intelligence, down to 4.

  His 13 Willpower had dropped back down to 3, with a single point added to make it 4.

  Perception had been at 17—now it sat at 3 after the bonus.

  A thought hit him, and he quickly ran the numbers through his head again, piecing them together. Could it really be that simple?

  "If you gain 10 points in a stat, you get a point?" Daniel said aloud.

  He thought that could make sense, but any satisfaction he gained was quickly overshadowed by frustration. Three days in this forest, and he still had no plan, no clear direction—just a random system and a mountain of questions.

  Rrrrgrrr

  And now, of course, he was hungry.

  There were no System-provided rations or Tasty Mushrooms this time around, and his stomach made sure to remind him. At least his new System could help with that.

  He glanced around, but nothing in sight seemed edible. Not that he knew how Epicurean Sense worked yet.

  He’d figure it out... eventually.

  Daniel wandered through the underbrush, scanning the ground and trees for anything that might be edible. Every so often, he crouched down, studying various plants, but all he got from Epicurean Sense was silence.

  His stomach growled again, and his frustration mounted.

  Then, as he rounded a large boulder, something caught his eye. A patch of deep green leaves, clustered around a small, spindly stalk with berries hanging from it. Walking over, something about it felt... right.

  He knelt beside it, and a hum of certainty ran through him.

  He could feel that the plant was safe, that it was nutritious, and, for once, it wasn’t just his stomach telling him to eat.

  He plucked a few berries and, with a cautious glance around, popped one into his mouth. The flavor burst across his tongue—sweet and tangy, with a depth that he couldn’t place.

  A wave of warmth spread through him almost immediately, the taste lingering pleasantly, without any trace of bitterness or sharpness.

  No stomachache.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  No sign of poison.

  Daniel grinned, a sense of relief washing over him. He chewed the berries slowly, savoring each bite, and felt his energy returning. The hunger pangs quieted, and even his mood lifted a little.

  After finishing the berries, Daniel stood up, brushing the dirt from his hands, and began to walk again.

  A few hours slipped by as he wandered through the trees, stopping now and then to look around. He was tired, but it wasn’t just the physical exhaustion—it was mental fatigue. His eyelids were getting heavy, and the weight of the day was starting to press down on him.

  He needed to rest.

  Eventually, he stumbled upon a small cove, a cluster of thick trees forming a kind of natural shelter. The ground here was softer, and the canopy above was dense enough to block out the worst of the night’s chill.

  Daniel paused for a moment, sizing up the space, then stepped in. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

  He sank down, leaning his back against one of the trees. The cool air wasn’t so bad now, and as the tension in his body slowly eased, sleep started creeping in.

  With one last look at the darkening sky above, Daniel shut his eyes.

  Tomorrow, he’d try to figure things out.

  But for now, he let himself enjoy the quiet of sleep.

  Greetings Daniel, you have died. Generating system…

  System Generated: Hat System.

  An earthy smell assaulted Daniel’s nose. A gentle breeze blew against his face.

  Something was wrong.

  Even with his eyes closed, Daniel could tell by the way the ground felt beneath him and the smell of the air that this wasn’t where he'd fallen asleep.

  Opening his eyes Daniel saw he was back in the clearing. He quickly opened his status, his eyes zeroing in on one specific line:

  System: Hat

  What the— Why am I back in the clearing and why does my System say Hat?! Did I die in my sleep or something?

  With no other explanation, Daniel was left more confused than scared.

  Had he just gotten unlucky last night? He supposed it was lucky he wasn’t awake for whatever had killed him, but he’d slept in the forest before, and he’d been fine then.

  “Did the Good Night’s Sleep really help that much?” Daniel muttered.

  He hadn’t realized the amount of support the quest rewards had given him at the time, but now it was clear they had been more than just a small boost. They'd been something of a safety net for him—something to ensure he could survive the forest with no experience.

  He’d do better this time. He would be smarter about finding a place to sleep and everything would be alright.

  Daniel headed deeper into the woods.

  The air smelled different here, ticker. The trees grew taller, their trunks twisted in strange, unnatural ways. The underbrush grew denser, and the shadows seemed to press closer.

  Suddenly, his foot caught on something, and he stumbled. Reaching out to steady himself, Daniel turned to see what had tripped him.

  A shiver ran down his spine.

  Half-concealed beneath a thick patch of ferns was a creature unlike any Daniel had seen before. Its body resembled a fox—sleek, lithe, and agile—but its fur shimmered with an otherworldly iridescence, shifting between silver and deep violet. Long, delicate horns spiraled from its head, glowing faintly like they were made of starlight.

  Its golden eyes widened as it locked onto him.

  It stretched lazily, and then, without warning, a low, eerie hum reverberated from its throat—surprisingly deep and resonant for something so small.

  The sound was soft, yet it carried through the forest, cutting through the stillness and drawing attention. Daniel’s skin prickled, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he noticed other creatures, hidden in the underbrush, beginning to stir and focus on him.

  Their eyes—glowing in unison—flicked to him, their bodies tensing as if preparing for something. The forest seemed to grow heavier, the silence thickening as if it were holding its breath.

  Before Daniel could think to react, one of the smaller creatures—more translucent than the others—fixed its gaze on him.

  Its eyes pierced into him, cold and unnatural.

  A strange, suffocating pressure filled the air. His head throbbed as if something were pressing down on his skull, crushing it—

  The world around him went black.

  Greetings Daniel, you have died. Generating system…

  System Generated: Swarm System.

  An earthy smell assaulted Daniel’s nose. A gentle breeze blew against his face.

  It had been a few loops now, and Daniel felt like he may be getting the hang of it. He quickly snapped open his status, skimmed over the abilities, and then headed out.

  He'd long since figured out what was safe to eat in the immediate area.

  Some berries, small roots, and a few plants he’d learned to recognize had kept him fed. As long as he stayed cautious and paid attention to his surroundings, he’d be fine.

  The dense forest around him was quiet, eerily so. It wasn’t the first time he’d noticed the silence before—an unsettling feeling that made him pause and scan the area. He shook it off.

  He spotted a few familiar berries hanging from a nearby bush, their deep purple hue gleaming in the sunlight. His stomach growled, reminding him how long it had been since his last meal. He reached for them eagerly, but something about the way the leaves around the bush shifted caught his eye.

  A faint rustling in the underbrush. Something was there.

  Daniel hesitated for a moment, but hunger soon took control. His hand darted forward, grabbing a handful of berries, and without a second thought, he shoved them into his mouth.

  The sweetness exploded on his tongue—rich, intoxicating, almost overwhelming. He quickly devoured them, his hunger momentarily forgotten.

  A strange warmth spread through his chest, and his fingers tingled with an unfamiliar sensation. The air around him seemed to thicken, heavy and oppressive, as if pressing in on him.

  Dizzy and unsteady, Daniel’s vision swirled as colors bled into one another, blending like the strokes of a watercolor painting.

  A strange laugh escaped him—wild and uncontrollable. The heat inside him intensified as the trees twisted into impossible shapes. He realized, disoriented, that he was floating—the ground and air slipping away into something else.

  The sensation shifted abruptly. His stomach churned.

  The berries.

  He had eaten the wrong ones.

  His thoughts struggled to hold on, but everything else slipped away. His limbs felt heavy, like he was sinking, and the world spun faster, a blur of colors and noise.

  Laughter bubbled up in his chest, wild and uncontrollable, as his breath quickened, the thick air clogging his lungs.

  His knees buckled, and he collapsed, hands pressing into the ground—only it wasn’t solid. The earth squelched beneath him, pulling him in. He tried to push up, but his body refused to move, trapped in this dizzying fog, unable to escape.

  Then came the growl.

  Low.

  Deep.

  And too close.

  But Daniel couldn’t stop himself. He laughed—loud, wild, with a manic edge. Another growl rang out, closer now, sharp and guttural, but it only made him laugh harder, the sound twisted and unhinged.

  Shadows shifted, and something with predatory intent moved toward him. His eyes went wide as the reality of the situation crashed down on him. His limbs refused to obey, his body frozen, and the shadow loomed—a figure with eyes gleaming with hunger.

  The figure exploded from the darkness, powerful and relentless.

  Its glowing gaze locked onto him as it leaped forward, pouncing with a single, swift motion. He didn’t feel the impact—his body numb, disconnected from the moment—but his laughter stopped abruptly, replaced by a choked, strangled gasp.

  I’ll get it right next time.

  Greetings, Daniel. You have died. Generating system…

  An earthy smell assaulted Daniel’s nose. A gentle breeze blew against his face.

  He got up, turned, and took off running. Each step was careful, his eyes scanning the trees for any sign of movement. The morning light trickled through the leaves, casting a mix of light and shadow on the ground.

  He stayed low, hoping the forest would hide him, even though he knew it wouldn’t take long before something spotted him.

  As the hours dragged on, the sun’s warmth started to fade, and the shadows stretched longer, creeping over the underbrush.

  His chest felt tight, the weight of the day settling in as he picked up the pace, dodging between the trees. Time seemed to slow down, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was always just out of reach, watching him.

  Greetings, Daniel. You have died…

  An earthy smell assaulted Daniel’s nose.

  He grabbed a fallen branch, testing its weight. The forest loomed around him, every sound sharper than it should have been.

  His grip tightened as he edged forward, muscles coiled for movement.

  A distant rustling broke the stillness, making his heart race as he scanned the shadows for any sign of movement.

  Greetings, Daniel…

  An earthy smell assaulted Daniel…

  He crouched in a tree, clutching a branch to steady himself. Below, the creature moved with deliberate slowness, its movements fluid and unnerving.

  He froze, barely breathing, as its head snapped up, its eyes locking onto his.

  Greetings…

  Earthy smell…

  A vine wrapped around his throat. He clawed at it desperately as the world faded to black.

  …

  …

  …

  Daniel had stopped keeping track of how many loops it had been.

  It didn’t matter anymore.

  No matter what he did, he could never seem to make it past a few days.

  This time had been different, though. He’d lasted just over a week, but that came with its own set of problems. Every river and stream he found felt like it was being watched, as if something was waiting for him to take a sip.

  No matter when or where he tried, it always ended the same way—death.

  Sometimes it came almost immediately, other times hours later. There were moments when he’d catch a glimpse of the danger, but more often than not, he’d wake up back in the clearing, confused, with no idea what had taken him out.

  His throat felt like sandpaper, his body weak and trembling. His vision kept blurring, and his mind was slipping in and out of focus.

  Dehydration was messing with him, and it was getting harder to tell what was real. Everything around him seemed to shift, leaving him unsure of where he was or what was happening.

  Daniel staggered a few steps, trying to keep moving, but his legs felt heavy, like they were made of stone.

  His breath was shallow, and every step drained him more. His knees buckled, and he knelt for a moment, trying to catch his breath, but the ground was spinning beneath him.

  He tried to push himself up, but his hands trembled, and the effort felt impossible. The world around him blurred, fading in and out like a dream. Slowly, his knees hit the earth, and his body followed, collapsing fully to the ground.

  Daniel froze as he spotted two reptilian figures crouching in the nearby brush, their forms blending almost seamlessly with the undergrowth. Large eyes, cold and unblinking, locked onto him.

  One of them leaned toward the other, its voice low and guttural.

  "Kun nii rigir wah jaald. Thun fen mindok fos wah dreh."

  The words, sharp and foreign, were the last things he heard before the world went black.