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Chapter 2 - ##the beginning 2

After his panic attack had subsided, Rob took stock of his situation once more. He didn't remotely know where or when he was; all he had to his name was a sword, an empty waterskin, and the clothes on his back, and civilization was nowhere in sight. On the plus side, he had 5 Magic points and 50 MP, which meant:

"Fireball!" Rob stuck out his hand and pushed out the latent energy hidden within his soul. Nothing happened. The chirping of the birds was beginning to sound suspiciously like laughter.

"Should start smaller," he mumbled. "What's the most basic of the basic magic I can think of? How about: Orb of Light!"

No dice. Neither was Move Leaf, Move Earth, or Fuck You Why Won't This Work. Eventually, Rob was forced to accept defeat, unable to stomach the mounting secondhand embarrassment he was feeling toward himself.

"Probably need more than 5 Magic points to actually cast a spell. And a teacher to help me do more than flail about in the dark." He involuntarily shuddered at the reminder of the dark. "Where's a wise old man in robes when you need him?"

Probably at home sipping tea by the fireside, he answered for himself.

Rob looked past the clearing he was in and out into the forest beyond. The thick foliage made it impossible to tell where the closest patch of civilization was. His best bet was probably going to end up being picking a random direction and walking around until he found something, and the fact that he couldn't come up with any better ideas was more than a little distressing.

Maybe it would be better to rethink that plan on a full stomach; he was getting kind of hungry, and whatever force that had so graciously dropped him off here had neglected to give him any food. There had to be something to eat—

Gained: Status Effect – Hunger (Mild)

Rob glared unamusedly at the floating words as they dissipated into wisps of blue.

Two hours of foraging produced mixed results. He'd scrounged up some yellow berries and brown mushrooms, which was good. They were also untested and he didn't have a field guide, which was bad. Rob rolled a berry around in his hand, imagining how juicy and sweet it must be. He wasn't going to get any less hungry anytime soon, and he wasn't confident in his ability to hunt wild game. No squirrel or rabbit was going to stand around long enough for him to hit them with his sword, and even if by some grace of God he caught one, he also didn't know how to start a fire to cook and make it safe for consumption. Media had made it look so easy, but rubbing two sticks together had yet to yield results. The outdoorsy type, he was not.

A thought in his head nudged him. This time, he followed its advice without hesitation.

'Identify.'

Name: Yellow Grape

Description: A fruit native to the Ixatan Forest.

…well, at least he knew what to call his new abode.

Rob sighed and popped the berry into his mouth.

"You better not be poisonous," he chewed, talking with his mouth open. No one around to judge me for bad manners! Mom would be so annoyed right now.

…Mom…

The berry was juicy, sweet, and delicious, and he found himself completely unable to enjoy it. At least it didn't end up being poisonous.

After eating enough berries to make a message cheerfully pop up and inform him that his Hunger status had been removed, Rob scooped up as much food as he could hold and went out in search of water. Providence smiled on him—fucking finally—and he quickly managed to locate a small brook running down gently sloped terrain. The water looked crystal clear and was probably full of parasites, but thirsty beggars couldn't be choosers.

He drank until he was content, drank a little more just in case, then filled his waterskin up to the top. After that, he turned around and started walking back the way he came, content that he'd managed to satisfy his body's basic necessities for the day.

He would take whatever victories he had.

Being alone with his thoughts gave him time to calm his racing mind and think things through in greater clarity. He still didn't know which direction to head in to reach civilization, but that didn't mean he should just wander off and pray for the best. Now that he had access to food and water, he could afford to take his time.

He would transform the area where he woke up into a sort of base camp—specifically, he'd woken up in a small cave. While the notion of spending more time in the dark left his skin crawling, it was safer than sleeping out in the open. Once he'd gotten settled in, he could branch out, establish more camps at various parts in Ixatan Forest, clear paths to assist in navigation, and try to find indicators that people had been in the area. It might take a while, but if he played it safe and smart, he had a betting chance at making it through in one piece.

Yeah. I got this. I survived my freshman year of college – what's a little hiking in the woods compared to that?

Rob reached his soon-to-be headquarters and froze, dropping his bundle of berries and mushrooms as his hands fell to his sides. Each breath he took thundered in his ears as he took small steps backwards, praying to whatever deity was listening that there weren't any brittle sticks behind him to tread on. In the quiet ambiance of the forest, the snapping of a single twig could echo outwards like a gunshot.

And alert his visitor.

'Identify.'

Name: Frenzied Wolf

Level: 6

Status: Frenzied, Infected, Emaciated

Description: Stronger than a standard wolf from your home world.

The beast was hideous. An elongated face tipped by a smashed snout sniffed the ground, teeth jutting out in ways that would make a dentist recoil in disgust. Bone spurs pierced out from beneath its skin in random formations, little trickles of blood seeping out of the wounds as the spurs rubbed skin and flesh raw. Mats of fur had fallen off, revealing skin tightly compressed against its rib cage and stomach. Black stains were left on the ground wherever it stepped. Watching it filled Rob with an indescribable dread; even moreso than he would have expected from encountering a slavering hellbeast.

His prayers were answered. There were no dry sticks behind him as he backed away.

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