The boar was heavier than it looked.
Its thick muscles and dense body should've made it a struggle to lift, especially alone, but somehow, it wasn't. I slung it over my shoulder with surprising ease. Maybe it was the strength boost from the talent I chose. Still, I could feel the weight press against my back, warm and solid, a quiet reminder that I had taken a life for the first time.
I followed the path I marked with stones and scratches, winding carefully back to the clearing where I was building my lodge. The moment I arrived, I dropped the boar gently onto the grass and took a deep breath.
Now came the part I wasn't ready for… but had to do.
I crouched beside the carcass, staring at it. The animal's eyes were still open. I reached forward and closed them.
"I'll do this properly," I murmured.
I summoned my item again and morphed it into a hunting knife, short, curved, and wickedly sharp. I had never done this in real life, but years of watching survival channels, bushcraft videos, and even wilderness cooking content gave me a rough map in my head.
Okay. Just breathe. Focus.
I started by flipping the boar onto its back and making a shallow incision down the belly, from sternum to pelvis. Blood began to ooze, warm and thick. The smell hit me hard, metallic. I swallowed and kept working.
I used the knife to carefully peel the hide away from the muscle beneath, starting at the midsection and working outward. I had to separate the fat layer from the skin, gently tugging and slicing along the membrane, careful not to puncture the meat. The hide was tough, but the knife cut clean.
Next, I cut around the legs, like sleeves, slipping the hide off like a coat. It took time, patience, and a steady hand.
By the time I reached the neck and finally peeled the last part of the skin free, my hands were slick with blood. My breathing was ragged, and I could feel sweat running down my spine.
It wasn't clean work. Not by any expert's standards. But it was done.
I sat back, exhaling deeply.
"First time… not bad."
The hide could be useful. I remembered enough to know that with drying, scraping, and treating, it could be turned into leather. Clothes, boots, tools, even shelter. Nothing should go to waste.
But then I looked down at myself, blood smeared across my arms, splattered on my clothes, sticky and dark under my fingernails.
Shit… water. I don't have any water.
The realization hit hard.
In all my excitement, hunting, building, surviving, I had completely overlooked the most basic necessity. I had food now, but my mouth was dry, my throat scratchy, and the sun was already climbing overhead, bearing down like a silent warning.
No time to rest.
I stood, breathing through the growing thirst, and glanced around the forest clearing. If I didn't want to wander off too far in search of a stream, I had one other option.
"I need a well," I muttered, already visualizing the spot. "And I need it fast."
My stomach growled low, echoing in the silence. My lips were chapped. I hadn't even tasted the meat I hunted, and now I couldn't clean it or myself without water.
Time was ticking.
I summoned the orb again, this time imagining a spade, and the moment it solidified in my hands, I dropped to my knees and started digging.
I stared down into the hole I'd been digging, dry, stubborn, and seemingly endless. But I knew if I just went deeper, I'd find it.
I dug.
And I kept digging.
I lost track of time. The sun kept rising higher, then began to fall. My body should've given out by now, but it didn't. Not even close. Maybe this was how my regeneration worked not just healing wounds, but holding off fatigue itself. My muscles moved like machines, precise, tireless. But my stomach... that was another story.
It growled and twisted inside me, aching from emptiness. My throat felt raw, dust clinging to it with every breath. Still, I kept going.
The dirt came up easier now, the soil a bit looser, darker. Damp, maybe?
I carved crude steps into the earthen wall as I went down, didn't want to trap myself in a hole I couldn't climb out of. Every now and then, I'd pause, close my eyes, and listen. For what, I wasn't sure, maybe the whisper of water beneath the earth?
And then, I felt it.
Cool.
Wet.
A trickle touched my bare foot like a secret revealed at last.
I froze. I bent down, fingers trembling, and scooped a bit into my palm. The water was clear. Cold. I tasted it, sweet, earthy, refreshing.
I laughed.
God, I laughed so hard I nearly fell over. I had done it. I had found water in the middle of nowhere.
I scrambled up my carved-out staircase, not wanting to stay underground too long. My body was still splattered with blood and dirt from earlier, if I soaked in that well, it would ruin the whole thing. I couldn't disrespect my first source of clean water like that.
By the time I reached the top, water had already begun rising into the bottom of the well, pooling slowly but steadily.
When I poured the water over myself, it was like a blessing.
The blood rinsed from my arms, the sweat from my face, the dirt from my neck. I was still a mess, sure, smelled like dried meat and fear, but it was better. So much better.
I exhaled, watching the steam rise from my skin in the fading orange light of the sunset. Then I started gathering dry branches. It was time to cook.