Survival (3): Tough Yet Fragile
Humans are tough yet fragile creatures. The same could be said for any animal, but none are as contradictory as humans. Our strength is weaker than other beasts, yet our endurance surpasses them all. Combined with the intelligence to use tools, that's how we climbed to the top of the food chain.
But that's only when we're in groups. As individuals, humans are weak. There are hardly any wild animals we could overpower bare-handed. Get bitten by a dog, and you're done for. Hunting alone is brutally tough, and even our advantage in low-calorie efficiency is hard to leverage. You need calories to store energy, right? To do anything at all.
Crunch!
"Urk...!"
In that sense, I ate a bug. A pure white larva I'd found inside a rotten log. The moment my teeth sank in, an indescribable revulsion flooded my mouth. The earthy smell almost felt pleasant by comparison.
Crunch, munch, grind—
I forced my jaw to keep moving, enduring as best I could. I could vividly feel my face twisting in disgust. Soul World boasted high freedom in combat—even if the mechanics were trash—but with no food, bugs were fair game. Of course, some were poisonous, so caution was key. Lucky for me, as a hardcore gamer, I knew which ones to avoid. If I hadn't dropped into this forest, that knowledge would've been useless. Fuck my life in every sense.
Chomp! Chomp! Chomp!
The taste was so vile it nearly made me puke. I barely held it down, shoving the rising bile back. No wonder the character in the game retched at raw food. Pointless realism.
Roasting them over a fire would help, but with my left arm like this, options were nil. I'd have to stick to raw until it healed. Eating animal corpses? No way. Unless it was the absolute worst case. God forbid I end up sucking marrow like some caveman.
"Urgh... ugh..."
This time, a fishy stench—something indefinable—filled my nose. Breathing through it nearly triggered my gag reflex. And one bug wasn't enough. To last until my arm healed, I'd need a few more. Bear Grylls had shown me that much. Good thing I binged survival docs. Oh, and just to clarify: fruits were off-limits. Most caused diarrhea.
'At least the edible stuff grows up in the trees... Sigh.'
The silver lining? Drinkable water nearby—a small stream with minnows swimming in it meant it was safe. Humans die after three weeks without food, three days without water. Water was priority one, and now I could breathe easy.
'Problem is, all sorts of animals flock there to drink.'
Porori might show up too. Hardcore players hunted it by the stream. If so, I'd bolt without looking back. I was bottom of the food chain. Taking down that starving wolf was pure luck. Without nearby branches and rocks, I'd be dead.
'Gotta hold out till my arm heals.'
Arm recovery was top priority. Only then could I expand my range. Even that wasn't guaranteed—infection could rot it off first. If someone lucky found me in the meantime, great. But nah, not really. A place crawling with Porori meant deep woods. Entering naked? Ninety percent rescue failure. Meaning my odds of escape were slim too. Might have to choose "living" over "surviving."
'Eh, I'll get out before then.'
Just adapt a bit. Even Bear Grylls adapted before escaping. Eating bugs was meeting the bare minimum for survival. Protein-packed, supposedly. But it was just the baseline. No hunting or fishing meant no full belly.
'If only my arm was fine...'
I'd have eaten that starving wolf from yesterday. Regrettable. With the stench finally fading from my mouth, I started walking. Bugs for now. Arm healing? At least a month, I figured.
'Can I last a month?'
That assumed finding recovery herbs. I lucked into a hemostatic plant, but it might not be enough. Survival, let alone escape, felt dicey. This forest was high-level territory. The future looked bleak. Someone reach me already.
A chill ran down my spine.
"What..."
I flinched and turned. Hiss—hiss—
A slender reptile with a forked tongue flicking out. Agile tree-climber. A creepy snake stared me down. Its constant tongue-flicks meant it had me locked. Even small snakes creeped me out, and this wasn't small. How'd it sneak up?
Shaa!
It lunged, jaws wide, fangs glinting—proving its venomous nature.
"Ah, fuck!!"
Startled, I instinctively jerked back. Its head grazed my cheek by a hair. Dodge successful—my turn. Before it could reset, I grabbed its body. Left arm useless, so right hand only, but enough.
Shaaak!
It struck again, aiming for my gripping arm. Lose that, survival odds hit zero. I released hastily. It hit the ground and vanished into the brush.
"..."
So fast, my mind blanked. Without that chill—or slower reflexes—I'd be done. Big beasts weren't the only threat. Poisonous snakes, bugs, plants were deadlier. Worst case? Eating them. The thought soured my gut.
Quick Reaction Speed! Agility rises!
"Fuck..."
I muttered a curse. Already shit, now shittier. Why drop me here? City would've been fine—why this death trap forest? If gods were real, I'd curse them out. (They are, in this world.) Once I hit civilization, they'd get an earful. Vowed it again today.
Faith decreases.
Piss off. Useless prick. Faith drops? Big deal. What can you do?
'Gotta get out first. I will.'
I moved cautiously, alert. Bad vibes? Skipped it. Life-risking paths? Nope. Might as well use this half-assed instinct.
'One month. Heal arm, then escape.'
That resolve never came to pass.
"Grrr! Yap! Yap!"
"Fuck!"
Pouring everything into survival, I...
"Raaargh!!"
"Fuck!"
...adapted perfectly to this forest, like a lie.
"Fuck (what a shitshow)."
Losing language was just icing.
The untouched wild might seem like pure survival of the fittest. Weak vanish, strong thrive. But even that's wrong. The strong do prey on the weak, sure. So what's "strong"? Raw power? Brains? In civilization, yeah—one or the other shines.
Wild's different. Environment's different. One way to be strong: survive.
Crack!
"Grraaah..."
Thud!
A house-sized black bear crashed down, shaking the earth. A stone axe embedded perfectly in its skull—like splitting logs.
Crack—
Pulling the crude axe free yielded a sticky sound, transmitted straight to my hand. No longer gross. Just joy at enough food for days. Skinning was a hassle, but this brute's hide? Perfect cave rug.
"Mm. Fuck (nice)."
I dragged it one-handed. Tracks? Whatever. Top predator lately—stronger scent keeps others away. No need to come here; plenty elsewhere.
Swish—
A sound near my ear. Ignored it, kept dragging. Just watching? No need to engage. Food secured. Wild beasts rarely think rationally, especially if threatened.
Shaaa!
Familiar to boredom. I casually raised my arm. Old me? Cower in fear. Not anymore.
Thwap!
Precisely caught the snake mid-leap from the tree. Paused to eye it. It thrashed, head gripped, fangs bared threateningly.
Squelch!
Ah, should've grabbed higher. Sloppy hold let a fang nick my skin. But it couldn't pierce, and even if—poison? Immune now. So many bites toughened my hide. Not ideal, though. Poisons and meds are paper-thin apart; herbs barely work. Thought wuxia-style poison immunity was cool. Nope. Maybe my body's the freak.
Crunch!
Snack time. Bit off the head, spat it. Snake trait: body kept wriggling. Creepy as ever.
Chew, chew, chew—
But snack now. Gulped it like jelly, continued on. Bear down, feast time. Poor bear—wrong place, wrong time. Tough luck. Wild rule: survivors are strong. This one? Weak.
"Fuck (hungry)."
And I survived another day. Shitty life.