Ascendancy: The System’s Chosen

The dead wolf lay at Eleanor's feet, its dark fur glistening with blood. Her breath was ragged, her muscles trembling—not from fear, but from something deeper.

Excitement.

She had felt it in the moment of the kill. The raw, primal rush of survival. The knowledge that she could fight. That she could win.

She clenched her fists.

There was no going back now.

A soft chime echoed in her mind as her status screen updated.

[Status Update]

[User: Eleanor Holt]

[Level: 2]

[Health: 87%]

[Mana: 100%]

[Stat Points Available: 5]

[Skills:]

Adaptation (Passive) – Your body instinctively adjusts to combat, improving reaction speed and efficiency.

Predatory Instincts (Passive) – Heightened awareness and natural battle intuition.

Eleanor exhaled, her breath visible in the cool night air. She scanned the wolf's body.

If this was a game-like world, loot had to be a thing, right?

She crouched, hesitating for only a moment before pressing her hand against its fur.

[Would you like to harvest materials?]

(Y/N)

A fresh wave of this is real hit her, but she pushed it down. "Yes," she whispered.

The moment she confirmed, a tingling sensation traveled through her fingertips. She watched in morbid fascination as her hands moved with unnatural precision, skinning the beast with a skill she absolutely should not have had.

When it was over, she had:

Nightfang Pelt (Common) x1

Direwolf Fangs (Common) x2

Raw Beast Meat (Uncommon) x1

The process should have disgusted her, but instead, she felt accomplished.

Eleanor glanced at her bloodstained hands.

"I'm really doing this," she muttered. "I'm surviving."

A rustling in the bushes made her spin, rock in hand. Another enemy?

But instead of glowing red eyes, she saw a person.

A boy, barely sixteen, with ragged clothes and wide, fearful eyes. He stumbled into the clearing, gasping as he caught sight of her.

"You—You killed it?" he stammered.

Eleanor straightened. "Yeah."

His gaze darted to the corpse, then back to her, filled with awe and something else—desperation.

"Please," he begged. "You have to help me. My sister—she's still trapped in the ruins. The monsters will—" His voice cracked. "She won't last the night."

Eleanor's grip tightened on the rock.

A choice.

She had barely survived her first fight, and now she was being asked to risk her life again.

The logical thing would be to refuse. To prioritize herself.

But deep inside, something stirred.

She had power now. She had a choice.

And Eleanor Holt had never been the type to walk away from someone who needed help.

She looked the boy in the eyes and said, "Show me where."