Chapter 7: Her Stats Points

Chapter 7 - 7: Her Stats Points The village was straight out of a history textbook—no, worse. It was pure Stone Age chaos. Huts made of rough stone and dried leaves were scattered around, their entrances covered with animal hides. Fires burned in the center of communal areas, crackling as they roasted chunks of meat. Clay pots, crude wooden tools, and baskets overflowing with strange fruits lay around, and in the distance, women washed clothes in a river while kids ran around completely naked, screaming with joy. Beastmen of all sizes filled the area—massive, towering warriors, lean and athletic hunters, older men with thick fur cloaks, and young, wild-eyed males who wrestled in the dirt like overgrown puppies. There were females too—tall and striking, with fierce, untamed beauty. Their wild hair was thick and unbrushed, their sharp features bold and commanding. And of course, there were babies—tiny, chubby little beast-kids with tails and fluffy ears, rolling around or clinging to their parents. There was an energy to the village—cheerful, loud, wild. And then there was Isabella. Limping. Struggling. Attracting so much attention. Every step hurt. Her legs still throbbed from her earlier injury, but she clenched her jaw and ignored it. It wasn't like she had a choice—she had less than 5 hours to find a stupid four-stripe Beastman. The glowing system timer was still hovering in her face like some kind of demonic countdown. 4:36:23 She scowled at it. "I get it, I'm on a time limit. Stop following me like a creepy stalker." Unfortunately, the system didn't care about her suffering. "User stats incoming." A sudden blue screen popped up in front of her. Isabella stopped dead in her tracks, nearly stumbling over a stone again. She stared at the stats in horror. Name: Isabella Devereaux Race: Human Age: 21 Power Rank: F- CultivationLevel: None MAINSTATS: SurvivalRate: 1/100 Health: 0/100 Stamina: 0/300 Strength: 0/1000 Agility: 5/500 Combat: 2/1000 Defense: 1/100 Charm: 100/100 ADDITIONAL ATTRIBUTES: Intelligence: 75/100 SurvivalInstinct: 5/100 Her breath hitched. Was she... a weakling?! Her survival rate was 1/100—ONE?! Her stamina was zero—like, literally zero?! Her combat was 2/1000, which might as well be negative infinity. Even her defense was a pathetic 1/100, meaning if someone sneezed in her direction too hard, she'd probably die. But of course, her charm was 100/100. Because obviously, looking pretty was more important than not dying. Isabella wanted to cry. Her health was the worse 0/100?!, and she was pretty sure it was because of this disgustingly unhygienic place that gave her this fate. The air smelled like sweat, dirt, and whatever the Beastmen used as soap (if they even used soap at all). And she was stuck here with no stamina, no strength, and the durability of a soggy piece of bread. She hesitantly glanced at the other tabs: [ABILITIES & SKILLS] [SYSTEM SHOP] [SYSTEM NOTES] Maybe she had some redeeming qualities? With a flick of her mind, she opened [ABILITIES & SKILLS]. And instantly regretted it. [ABILITIES & SKILLS] [PASSIVE ABILITIES] Pain Tolerance: Low Adaptability: Minimal Luck: Standard System Assistance: Active The Diva's Aura: Increases influence over others, with variable effects. Natural Beauty: Enhances persuasion with males; increases hostility from females. [SKILLS] Cooking: Lv.0 (1/50) Foraging: Lv.0 (Locked) Crafting: Lv.0 (Locked) Combat (Hand-to-Hand): Lv.0 (Locked) Combat (Weapons): Lv.0 (2/50) Trading & Negotiation: Lv.0 (Locked) Persuasion: Lv.0 (0/500) Leadership: Lv.0 (Locked) Skincare & Beauty: Lv.5 (0/10000) Fitness & Training: Lv.0 (Locked) Beastman Culture Knowledge: Lv.0 (Locked) Beast Taming: Lv.0 (Locked) --- Her mouth fell open. "NO, NO, NO—WHAT IS THIS?!" She knew the system was messing with her. Her Pain Tolerance was low. Her Adaptability was minimal. She had no survival skills whatsoever. But the real insult? Skincare & Beauty: Lv.5. She couldn't fight, couldn't forage, couldn't survive—but at least she had flawless skin. And to top it all off— The Diva's Aura: ??? Natural Beauty: Enhances persuasion with males; increases hostility from females. She knew it. She knew this was why those beast-women kept glaring at her like she personally insulted their ancestors. Isabella wanted to throw hands, but unfortunately— Combat (Hand-to-Hand): Lv.0 (Locked). ...She literally couldn't. Trying to calm herself, she clicked on the [SYSTEM SHOP]. Only to be hit with— (Access Limited Due to Rank F-/low points). Now, now, this was officially depression-inducing. "Was I sent here just to suffer?" So it was either her rank got higher, or she gained enough points? She closed the screen with her mind before the system could hurt her feelings any further. Sucking in a deep breath, she straightened her posture. She needed to focus. She had a mission. And no matter how pathetically weak she was, she was not about to die in some prehistoric village surrounded by horny Beast-men and aggressive aunties. Isabella strode up to a group of women, their imposing figures making her feel like a malnourished gremlin in comparison. They were stunning, but in an utterly wild way—tall, broad-shouldered, and oozing raw, unpolished strength. Her legs ached from walking, but she ignored it. She had a mission. "Hey," Isabella called out, stepping into their circle like she belonged. "I need to find a four-stripe beastman. Know where he is?" Silence. Then, one of them, a woman with dark green hair and piercing yellow eyes, let out a short, sharp laugh. Another snorted, elbowing her friend. "What, does she think she can just ask and waltz up to him?" "Maybe she's confused. Poor thing looks like she lost a fight with a swamp," one added, smirking. The others chuckled, nodding in agreement. Isabella blinked. "Okay, rude. But focus. Do you know where one is or not?" A taller woman leaned down, pretending to inspect her. "Are you... actually a female? Or some kind of hairless beast cub that got lost?" "I think it's a crazy beggar," another whispered loudly, though it was very much meant to be heard. "Yeah, she smells like one," the yellow-eyed one added, wrinkling her nose. "Like old sweat and despair." Isabella clenched her fists. Okay. Deep breath. Don't punch anyone.