CHAPTER 4 — Return of the Hunt

  Cycle 22,841 of the Dragon Era — Day 120

  Afternoon

  Water.

  I found water.

  I stayed hidden behind the thick roots, watching quietly as the massive boar monster soaked itself in the spring. I didn’t move until its presence faded downstream.

  Only then did I step out—slow, careful, aura sensing active.

  The sense was faint and blurry, but it was better than walking blind.

  The spring glowed with a soft, almost invisible blue light.

  Crystal-clear water—so clear I could see the stones at the bottom.

  I hesitated.

  “What if this is some kind of monster acid…?”

  Bracing myself, I dipped my hand in.

  Cold.

  Refreshing.

  Safe.

  A deep breath left my chest before I even realized.

  I drank first.

  And drank again.

  Each gulp filled my chest with a kind of relief that made my eyes sting—not from crying, but from pure release.

  Once my thirst faded, I removed my torn shirt and washed my wounds.

  The moment the water touched my skin—

  “—gh!”

  Sharp pain surged, then slowly dulled away.

  Even my fractured hand…

  the throbbing eased, just a little.

  “This is enough… for now.”

  I sat with my feet dipped in the stream, letting the water numb the pain, then washed my hair and cleaned my clothes until every trace of blood vanished.

  The water had a faint purifying effect—like it resisted infection on its own.

  It wasn’t much.

  But for the first time since arriving here…

  I felt alive.

  I couldn’t waste time.

  Water sources were the most dangerous places in any world.

  Predators came here.

  Territorial beasts patrolled here.

  This place was safe now—but safety never lasted.

  Still drenched, I slipped my shirt back on and went to work.

  For now, I decided to stay within this area.

  Whatever usually lived here wasn’t around…

  and my instincts told me this place was safer than the rest of the forest.

  Except for one aura buried somewhere beneath the roots in the distance—stronger than the wolf, stronger than the boar—and three weaker ones clustered close around it.

  But it stayed still, unmoving, and I had no plans to go anywhere close to it.

  Now, I needed food.

  Real food.

  My body still felt weak and battered, and the fruits I ate in the morning weren’t enough.

  So I began searching for edible trees near the spring—

  slow steps, aura sensing active, eyes scanning everything.

  There was no shortage of trees.

  This forest was overflowing with life.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  And one of them had to be useful.

  After a few minutes, I found a tree smaller than the towering giants but still huge compared to anything on Earth.

  Purple fruits hung from its branches.

  “Please don’t be poisonous…”

  I climbed up carefully and plucked one.

  I took a bite.

  And—

  Everything inside me exploded.

  Sweetness and life hit my tongue at the same time—

  a flavor so intense it bypassed my brain entirely and slammed straight into pure instinct.

  I didn’t chew.

  I devoured.

  My jaw moved on its own, fast and desperate, tearing through the fruit with a speed that shocked even me.

  My eyes widened, unfocused, almost glazed over in pure, primal bliss.

  Every cell in my body screamed for more.

  I grabbed the next fruit before the first was even completely swallowed.

  Then another.

  And another.

  I didn’t stop until the pressure in my stomach eased and the desperate hunger quieted.

  Only then did I breathe out, leaning back on the thick branch.

  The tree overlooked the spring from a safe distance—

  close enough to watch the water shimmer through the leaves,

  far enough to avoid being surprised by anything drinking there.

  I sat there quietly, purple juice dripping down my fingers,

  and for a moment…

  I felt something close to peace.

  Crafting for Survival

  I smashed rocks together until sharp flints broke off.

  Primitive blades—perfect for cutting.

  I used a few to slice through strong, flexible vines hanging between trees.

  Then I found thick sticks and attached flint to the top by splitting the wood and tying it with vines.

  A crude spear.

  A tool.

  Something for protection.

  As I tested the weight, a strange pressure brushed against my senses.

  I looked up.

  Crow-sized birds perched on branches around me—silent, staring.

  Then one dove at me, fast as a dart.

  Instinct kicked in.

  I pulled out the Ice Fang—

  and the moment its cold edge glinted in the light,

  the birds froze.

  Then scattered.

  Every single one fled into the treetops with frantic screeches.

  My heartbeat hammered.

  If they’d all hit me at that speed…

  I wouldn’t have survived.

  I forced myself to breathe, then returned to the stream, gathering more flint.

  I refused to light a fire—it would draw attention.

  For now, I only collected materials.

  Next, I looked for a place to stay.

  Not the fruit tree—the birds clearly claimed that area.

  A giant tree close to both the spring and the fruit tree caught my eye.

  Perfect for a temporary base.

  I climbed, slowly.

  Carefully.

  Painfully.

  Near the branch I chose, I found a natural hollow in the trunk.

  Unlike small natural holes in trees back on Earth, this one was large—carved into the massive ancient trunk over decades, maybe centuries.

  It was big enough for me to sit inside comfortably, almost like a natural shelter. I placed the spear, extra flint, vines, and a handful of fruits inside.

  Just enough to start surviving.

  Adaptation

  As I finally settled onto the branch, a realization hit me.

  This time of day—

  late afternoon—

  This was around the time I arrived in this world.

  My gaze drifted across the nearby trees.

  With a clearer mind and a higher vantage point, I finally noticed details I had missed before.

  And that’s when I saw them.

  Claw marks.

  Deep.

  Massive.

  Tearing through thick bark like paper.

  Some trees were almost split apart.

  My stomach knotted.

  Something powerful ruled this area.

  My head suddenly throbbed.

  The relief from the spring was gone, replaced by dull, punching pain.

  My bones ached again; my wounds pulsed sharply.

  Aura sensing had drained me.

  Overusing it made my vision blur and my head pound.

  But I couldn’t stop using it.

  Without it, I might have walked straight into a predator.

  This ability—

  this faint aura sense—

  was something I gained after arriving here.

  And the way my body healed faster…

  the way my strength had returned when I first breathed this world’s air…

  It was too obvious.

  Exposure to this world’s energy changed me.

  Not in some dramatic way—

  but in subtle, instinctive ways.

  Ways that helped me survive.

  My body adapted.

  Because my mind had been pushed to the brink the moment I arrived.

  Fear.

  Pain.

  Shock.

  Chaos.

  Maybe that’s why this world’s energy seeped into me so easily.

  Like the world gave me just enough to live.

  “I’ll… have to adapt,” I muttered.

  Pain or not, aura sensing kept me alive.

  And that was enough reason to endure it.

  The sun dropped lower, bleeding orange and red through the canopy.

  Evening settled in.

  Shadows stretched, growing long and sharp.

  The forest shifted.

  Sound changed.

  The day creatures quieted.

  I activated aura sensing—

  Just once.

  Just a light scan.

  …I'm sensing farther than before. Clearer.

  That shouldn’t be possible.

  And then—

  my breath caught.

  Eight.

  Eight auras.

  All way stronger than the wolf from yesterday.

  Moving together.

  Fast—heading toward that strong aura and the three weaker ones clustered beside it.

  But that wasn’t the worst part.

  Behind them—

  following slowly—

  was something else.

  An aura stronger than the rest.

  As strong as one of the auras I sensed from the top of the tree.

  Heavy.

  Crushing.

  Impossible to ignore.

  My skin crawled.

  My chest tightened.

  A chill spread through my spine.

  They were coming back.

  The ruler of this territory.

  And several others moving with it—

  not random, not scattered.

  Organized.

  Coming straight toward where I’d been hiding.