The Author's Viewpoint-Chapter 101 - Sleep Is Survival

After catching their breath and calming the last of their racing pulses, Tave and Panpan spent some time tidying up the rocky outcrop they’d be using as a shelter for the night. It wasn’t much, but it would serve well enough.

No need to pitch a tent. The air within the rift was clear and dry, though the wind carried a biting chill. A pair of sleeping bags would be enough to get them through the night. They just needed to set up a few basic supplies and prepare a quick emergency meal to regain the energy they’d burned during their desperate escape.

Tave reached into his storage ring and retrieved something from it. His first Tier 5 Monster Core.

He held it out, letting it catch the faint shimmer of the riftlight, then turned it toward Panpan. There was something he needed from it, something important. But he hesitated.

"I’m okay if you want to give that to Fang," she said quietly.

Technically, the kill had involved all three of them. The spoils, by right, should be shared. But among companions like them, it wasn’t about rules. It was about trust, and what felt right. If they agreed it would benefit them all, then it didn’t matter who held the final prize.

"It was your plan," she added, "and Fang saved both our lives. The faster he levels up, the better it is for all of us."

Tave gave a slow nod and turned toward the darkness. From the shadows, a figure emerged. The shadow wolf approached, head low, steps steady and unhurried, until he stood before Tave and bowed his head.

A soft, low growl rumbled from deep within Fang’s throat.

"Fang... you’ve earned this," Tave said, setting the core gently on the ground before him.

Without hesitation, Fang stepped forward. A pulse of energy surged from the core, flowing upward into his body. His fur rippled with light and shadow as the essence of the monster seeped into him.

Tave sat there, eyes fixed on the phenomenon unfolding before him. Fang absorbing the power of the monster core.

It wasn’t the first time Tave had seen this process, and yet... he found himself staring, slightly dazed.

Not because the sight was new, but because his thoughts were still tangled in the memory of what they had just survived.

A brush with death. Again.

And now that the adrenaline had faded, the question crept in, heavy and cold. How long could he keep this up?

How many more close calls would he escape before his luck ran out?

His knowledge, vast as it was, could only carry him so far. One day, he feared, no amount of tactics, preparation, or insight would be enough. Sooner or later, fate would throw something at him he couldn’t outsmart. Couldn’t outrun.

He needed more. Something beyond cleverness. Beyond technique. Something extraordinary. Something powerful. Something that could shatter the limits of the strength he currently held.

But what?

That was the question. The one that lingered. The one that echoed.

Wait... Echo?

The word struck him like a whisper across the surface of his thoughts. He fell silent once more, the idea digging deeper into his mind, swelling until it crowded out everything else.

[ Name: Tave ]

[ Level - Stage: 22 - Gaia Guardian ]

[ Elements: Fire (High) | Shadow (Low) | Soul Fire (Low) ]

[ Sigils: Shadow Cloak ]

[ Relics: The Flamebound Seraph ]

[ Echoes: None ]

[ Pacts: None ]

Looking over his own attributes, the truth was unavoidable. If he wanted to grow stronger, truly stronger, then the path was clear: he had to push his Gaia attributes to the limit. Unlock more advanced elements. Discover new sigils. Acquire stronger relics. And, most elusive of all, obtain an Echo... and form a Pact.

But Echoes... they weren’t just rare. They were mysterious. Even with everything he knew, Tave couldn’t say for sure how one was earned. He had no clear method. No step-by-step path. What did it even take to earn the trust of a deity, to become the vessel for their power?

Could he exploit something he knew? Was there a secret, a loophole, a forgotten myth he could use?

And then there was the matter of Pacts.

One of the few known ways to cheat the system, or at least bend it. No, not cheat. Exploit. To use Gaia Force with brutal, pinpoint efficiency. And Tave had knowledge. Rare, dangerous, world-shifting knowledge. The kind that could turn into power, if he used it the right way.

He forced himself to breathe. To center.

Even now, he’d climbed faster than most. Reached this level, this stage, quicker than many would dare to hope. He had done things most people couldn’t dream of. He was ahead.

He was doing well.

But none of that mattered if he lost control. If he acted recklessly. If he made one wrong choice and it cost him everything.

He couldn’t afford to throw his life away chasing shadows.

He needed to survive.

And finally, the absorption was complete.

Fang lifted his head, a soft shimmer of residual energy fading from his fur. Tave watched him with a tired but genuine smile.

He moved closer and reached out, running his hand gently along the jawline of his beast companion. Then, without a word, he pressed his forehead softly against the wolf’s face.

"Thanks, Fang," he whispered.

A low, rumbling growl answered him. Gentle, almost like a purr, vibrating through the silence of the night.

Tave let the moment linger, breathing it in. A stillness passed between them. Then he pulled away and looked up again.

"Fang... I need to take a rest," he said quietly.

In truth, shadow wolves didn’t need rest the way humans did. Their stamina could recover simply by entering an idle state, their bodies designed for endless patience and ruthless efficiency. Even when hiding within Tave’s shadow, Fang could quietly regenerate his strength.

A perfect predator, built to hunt without pause.

Fang stepped back slowly, then melted into the darkness once more, vanishing without a trace.

In the Rift Expedition, managing rest time with strict discipline was just as important as hunting or surviving. There was no compromise, ever. For Tave, this wasn’t a negotiable part of the mission. It was a survival protocol, as vital as breathing. And just like in the expedition before this one, he followed that routine with unwavering consistency.

He turned to Panpan and explained his plan.

Humans typically needed to sleep every day, anywhere between four to eight hours depending on their condition, and truly needed that rhythm to maintain health, clarity, and stability.

Even though it was a different story for those with stronger Gaia alignments. Higher-level humans, those further along in their evolution within Gaia, could reduce their sleep requirements significantly. But even they still needed it regularly.

Forest Elves, in truth, had a very different sleep cycle.

They could go without sleep for as long as ten days up to a month, their bodies sustained by their innate magic and connection to the natural world. When that limit was reached, they’d eventually need the same amount of sleep as humans. But their cycle was far more flexible. Sleep for them was a resource, not a daily requirement.

So yes... Tave was the one who truly needed rest now.

"Panpan... I’ll do a full exploration later, around midnight," Tave said softly. "But before that, I need four hours of sleep."

The forest elf girl nodded gently. "Yes, don’t worry... I’ll stay on watch. Me and Fang," she replied in a quiet voice.

Tave gave a small nod in return, then settled himself into the sleeping bag. The fabric rustled softly as he adjusted his body, sinking into the warmth and stillness it offered.

Sleep. Sleep. He needed it. Desperately.

This felt so different from the version of himself that had once lived in his old world. Back then, he only allowed sleep to claim him when exhaustion dragged him down, when his body practically collapsed under the weight of it. Rest had always been a last resort, not a priority.

But here? In Gaia Rift? Sleep wasn’t a weakness.

It was survival.

Until...

A soft voice, gentle, almost weightless, drifted into the edges of Tave’s sleep, like a feather brushing lightly against his consciousness. It didn’t come with the sharpness of alarm, nor the instinctual jolt of danger. No tension. No urgency.

It felt more like... the final note of a restful symphony. A quiet curtain call to his slumber.

"Tave... do you need more time to sleep?"

That was the voice. Softly spoken, just enough to reach him through the haze of dreams.

It pulled him back, not abruptly, but gently. Like waking from a nap under warm sunlight.