When Laurent woke, his body hurt, heavy with weakness.
But luckily, it wasn't entirely immobile.
He touched his surroundings. It felt a bit warm.
He remembered using the wolves' bodies for warmth before collapsing. Right now, two wolf carcasses—one in front, one behind—barely shielded him from the cold, narrowly saving his life.
But Laurent knew clearly: if things continued like this, he wouldn't last three days.
He had to find that lake on the map within these three days.
Struggling to push himself up, he suddenly remembered that his right hand was gone.
He stared blankly at the empty space on his right, waves of sharp pain reminding him that nothing could undo what had happened.
The fire had already gone out. He'd have to find some more firewood.
Grrrr—
A sound of hunger rumbled from his stomach. His energy was already drained by fever, and now he'd lost an arm and fought wolves as well.
Fortunately, food was lying right next to him; he only needed to start another fire.
Slowly standing up, his face was a mess of blood and dirt.
Utterly pathetic, and there was no way to wash it off now.
In weather like this, Laurent didn't doubt for a moment that contact with cold water would mean instant death.
Besides, he was genuinely weak now, and his arm treatment had been terribly crude. Infection would set in today, not three days later.
Dragging his exhausted body, Laurent relied purely on the remaining memory of Jeanne's face to keep himself moving, searching for dry, flammable wood.
He continued like this until nightfall.
Making shelter was now impossible; with one arm missing and strength depleted, he simply couldn't manage it.
Night arrived, and he could only settle under the roots of a large tree, lighting a fire to get by.
I wonder if wolves will appear tonight.
Blood seeped into one of his eyes, forcing it partially closed. Laurent rubbed it, revealing streaks of bloody red.
With great difficulty, he pinned the wolf's body down with his foot and peeled off its fur with his single remaining hand.
With this, he'd at least stay warm through the night.
The fire burned steadily, with wolf meat roasting above it.
But after just a brief moment of activity, he started gasping heavily again.
I can't go on like this… My body's breaking down. No strength left.
"Haa, haa…"
With that thought, he slumped heavily onto the ground.
The forest at night was dark, illuminated only faintly by the flickering fire.
At this moment, Laurent finally understood why Bear Grylls always said on his survival shows that surviving itself wasn't that difficult—what mattered most was conquering this maddening loneliness.
Right now, Laurent's mind was filled entirely with this overwhelming solitude.
It was indescribable.
He recalled a movie he'd seen a long time ago, The Grey, where by the end everyone around the main character had died, leaving him utterly alone.
Just watching the film, he'd felt that heavy sense of isolation. But now, experiencing it himself, he realized he was on the verge of completely breaking down.
A fire really was humanity's beacon of hope at night.
With nothing else to do, he began drawing on the ground.
Maybe I'll draw Jeanne to comfort myself. That silly girl's really beautiful. If she suddenly appeared in front of me now, saying a few words to encourage me, perhaps I'd feel energized again.
After sketching for a while, Laurent couldn't help laughing at himself.
"It really is ugly, huh. Doesn't resemble her at all. Besides, the historical Jeanne couldn't possibly be as beautiful as her."
Laughing softly, he sighed deeply, his left hand slowly touching the ring at his chest.
Might as well keep skinning the wolf. At least let's make it through tonight.
To prevent wolves from approaching, he'd also need to urinate in a circle around himself to mask his scent.
Silently thanking Bear Grylls again, Laurent pulled open his pants against the chill wind.
Damn, it really is freezing down there.
And now, missing his right hand, it felt strangely awkward—after all, he'd always used his right hand to shake it off afterward.
Amused, he kept these ridiculous thoughts as comfort.
Plus, without my right hand, isn't it gonna be inconvenient when doing those sorts of things with Jeanne?
The night passed uneventfully.
Laurent truly felt lucky no wolves had found him during the night. Otherwise, he'd have been completely helpless.
Yet the next morning brought even worse conditions he had to face.
His right arm began to throb painfully.
He knew exactly why.
After all, cauterizing was only basic sterilization. The clothes he'd wrapped around the wound weren't clean either. Infection was inevitable.
Today was truly critical. He had to hurry to his destination immediately.
Looking at the system's map, it was roughly twenty kilometers away.
He'd better hurry today.
Thinking this, he abandoned his luggage, preparing for a desperate gamble.
Dragging baggage would slow him down, and if he didn't arrive soon, worsening infection and illness would end him swiftly anyway.
Yet when he thought about how he'd risked everything for this legend only to die before the trial even began, Laurent felt a childish humiliation.
After all, he'd sworn in his heart he'd save Jeanne or something—but now he'd die without even starting.
Brushing off these negative thoughts, he began moving forward, one step at a time.
There'd truly been no joy at all in these past two months of journey.
Whenever possible, he'd carefully conserved money, never carrying too much at once to avoid robbery. He clearly understood the principle of hiding wealth.
Most of the time, he dressed little better than a beggar.
Occasionally he'd splurge on a bath, though afterward he'd immediately put on his filthy clothes again, enjoying only that brief luxury of cleanliness.
Why couldn't the system just make me invincible from the start?
He occasionally amused himself with thoughts like this. Other people's systems offered advantages, while his seemed only intent on making him suffer.
What nonsense about repairing history—what could a powerless ordinary person like him possibly achieve?
Now, ironically, he needed this mythical lake just to increase his strength.
These last twenty kilometers, Laurent walked slowly on his own.
At a normal pace, seven or eight hours in a day would be enough.
But with the snowstorm and his deteriorating condition, it was obviously more like a gamble.
Still, who cared anymore—he'd already staked his life; what harm was there in gambling once more?
...
Time passed slowly, and the distance gradually narrowed.
Over this final stretch, Laurent didn't encounter any wild animals. The closer he drew, the quieter the forest became.
When the sun was nearly setting, he finally arrived at the location.
Though physically exhausted, his spirits soared.
Because he'd finally reached it.
This journey could at last come to an end.
Laurent quickened his steps slightly, approaching the edge of the forest with excitement, the hope clear on his face.
Passing through the last thicket, he finally reached his destination.
It's over. Finally, it's over. I don't have to endure any more pain. As long as I pass this trial, as long as…
Yet at this very moment, everything abruptly stopped.
His excited expression froze on his face. Powerless, he sank slowly to his knees, eyes filled with disbelief.
Because within his line of sight, there was no lake.
Only a bottomless abyss stretched out before him.
This place...was nothing more than a cliff—a dead end.