After washing away the grime and blood from my body, I stepped back into the clearing, my skin still damp from the well water. The sky had grown dim, streaked with orange and deep violet, as if the heavens themselves were finally resting.
I took a deep breath and turned my focus to the next necessity, fire.
I walked around, gathering twigs, branches, and dried bark. My fingers moved swiftly, brushing through bushes and underbrush, searching for anything dry enough to burn. Every snap of a twig felt oddly satisfying, like I was building something, something real, something I needed to survive.
Once I had a decent pile, I sat down near the clearing and summoned my item again. This time, I shaped it into a fire-starting tool, something simple, but efficient. I wasn't even sure how it worked exactly, but when I struck it together, sparks flared to life and licked the dry kindling with greedy fingers. Within seconds, a flame was born.
Warmth. Light. Safety.
It was beautiful.
The fire cracked and popped, and I felt a small smile tug at my lips. I picked up a straight stick and began carving it, shaving the bark away with the item-knife until it was smooth, then sharpening the tip to a point. Primitive, sure, but it would do.
I skewered thick cuts of the boar meat and slowly rotated it over the fire. The fat began to sizzle almost immediately, and the scent... gods, the scent.
Rich, and smoky.
It filled the air and seemed to wrap around me like a blanket. My stomach growled violently, demanding what it had waited for all day. But I waited. Patiently. Carefully. I rotated the meat, making sure it cooked evenly, that it wouldn't burn or stay raw in the middle. I wasn't about to ruin my first real meal here.
The sky had gone fully dark now, stars blinking into view like tiny embers above. I glanced around the clearing, no walls, no roof, nothing but trees and shadow. Sleeping here would be risky, but I had no choice. Maybe... maybe I could find a thick tree to climb, rest in its branches until dawn. I'd finish the shelter tomorrow. After all, I'd already decided, this would be my home.
And then, there were the seeds.
Tomorrow, I'd prepare the soil, build a small field, and plant the strange, precious seeds that old man gave me. It was surreal to think that someone cared enough to include something so small, so thoughtful. A garden. A beginning.
The meat crackled louder now, the color turning golden-brown, and the scent growing even stronger. I leaned in, inspecting it. My mouth watered as the juice bubbled on the surface, and I knew, this was ready.
I pulled the stick from the fire, let it cool for a second, then lifted it toward my face. The roasted meat smelled incredible, like survival, like triumph. I blew on it lightly, then took my first bite.
Heaven.
Even without seasoning, it was delicious, tender, smoky, with just the right hint of wildness. The hunger inside me howled as I devoured it, each bite a reward for everything I had done today. Every struggle, every bruise, every moment of doubt, it was all worth it.
And then it was gone.
I leaned back, hand on my stomach, finally full.
I stared up at the stars again and whispered, "Thank you."
Thank you for letting me survive. For giving me this chance. For letting me live the life I've always dreamed of, one where I could breathe, move, build, live. Not behind a desk, not trapped by deadlines and fake smiles, but here. In the wild. Free.
I stood, stretching, my limbs aching but alive. Then I kicked dirt over the fire, smothering the flames until only smoke remained. The night wrapped around me once again.
Time to rest.
Tomorrow, my real life would begin.
Morning came like a whisper through the canopy of leaves.
I stirred from my uneasy sleep, still tucked between the thick branches of the large tree. My back ached slightly, but I was safe, and more importantly, I hadn't fallen off in my sleep. That alone felt like a victory. Carefully, I climbed down using the steps I had carved into the tree's bark the night before. The air was cool, fresh with morning dew and the scent of wet earth.
I stretched, groaning as my joints cracked. Then I turned toward where I'd left the meat.
But it was gone.
All of it.
"What the hell...?" I muttered, eyes narrowing. Only a few scorch marks and bones remained, as if someone, or something, had taken everything in the night.
Someone stole my food.
I clenched my fists. "Damn it... I shouldn't have left it out."
Frustrated, I searched the area, pacing through the dirt and brushing leaves aside. Then, I spotted them, tracks. Deep ones. Paw prints. Four-toed, heavy... likely a large animal. Not human.
A predator.
"Great," I hissed. "If I find you, I swear I'll turn you into tonight's dinner."
I exhaled harshly and looked around. I couldn't waste time sulking. I needed food. Again. Before I resumed building the shelter or tending to the seeds, I had to hunt. At least this time, I'd know better than to leave meat unguarded.
I headed back into the forest, moving quickly through the underbrush. My body moved with ease. No fatigue. No stiffness. The regeneration ability... it truly was a blessing.
As I walked, I vowed, next time, I'd store my food inside the house. Once it's built, no one, not beast or man, would touch what's mine again.
That's when I saw it.
Just ahead, in a small clearing drenched in morning light, stood a massive black tiger. Its fur gleamed, sleek and majestic, but its fangs were red, stained with fresh blood.
And at its feet... lay the remains of my boar.
I froze. My fists clenched. My jaw tightened.
"You bastard," I growled. "You stole my food."
It was calmly chewing through the meat, tearing into it with sharp precision. Like it didn't have a care in the world.
I summoned my weapon. The black sphere materialized in my palm. With a flick of thought, I reshaped it into a sleek spear, razor-sharp and familiar in my grip. It had pierced through wild boar like butter yesterday. Let's see how it fares against a thieving feline.
Without hesitation, I hurled the spear straight at the beast.
The tiger's eyes snapped toward me, and before the weapon struck, a swirling black mist burst forth from its body, like a shield. The spear collided with the haze, tearing through it, and slammed into the tiger's shoulder. The force sent it skidding back across the dirt, growling in pain.
I marched toward it, unflinching. My spear dematerialized and reformed in my hand.
"You ate the wrong man's dinner," I said coldly. "That was my fault, taking something I didn't protect. But now... you'll be tonight's meat."
Then... the tiger lifted its head and, spoke.
"I'm sorry, sir," it said, its voice calm, almost noble. "I thought the meat was unclaimed. No one was there to guard it."
I froze mid-step, eyes wide.
"What...?"
My breath caught. I stared, stunned. Its mouth moved, its voice was clear.
"You... you can talk?!"