Hunter
I couldn't help feeling a little excited as I watched the women moving around the village. The thought of getting closer to them—and finding out how people in this world lived—kept my imagination busy. I had no idea what their customs were, how they approached relationships, or what they thought about intimacy.
For all I knew, their way of life could be completely different from anything I'd experienced.
But I had more immediate problems to deal with than my curiosity.
Movement near the edge of the village caught my attention.
I raised the binoculars and focused on a group of men heading toward the forest. They were following a narrow, sloping path that cut through the vegetation, climbing toward the very area where I was hiding.
“Shit…”
There were several of them, and they all carried weapons.
Long wooden spears tipped with sharpened stone rested in their hands, while coils of rough plant-fiber rope hung from a few of their shoulders. Their chests were bare, and crude leaf coverings were tied around their waists.
They looked like hunters heading out on an expedition.
One man stood out from the others. He appeared older and broader, with a thick beard and a strip of animal hide wrapped around his waist. The others seemed to pay attention to him as they walked, occasionally turning toward him as if waiting for instructions.
The leader, perhaps?
All of them had long, unkempt hair, thick beards, and muscular bodies shaped by a life of physical labor. Their expressions were serious, and they carried their spears with the ease of men who had used them for years.
They didn't look particularly welcoming.
And now they were heading straight toward me.
I lowered the binoculars and glanced around, trying to work out what to do.
I couldn't exactly walk into their village and expect everyone to welcome me with open arms. I was a stranger, dressed in clothes that didn't belong in their world, with no tribe to vouch for me.
If they decided I was a threat, things could get ugly.
Of course, I had the Magical Tool.
If they attacked me, I could turn it into a firearm and defend myself. Hell, with the right imagination, I could probably make something far more intimidating than a simple rifle.
An M4 carbine would be more than enough against people armed with stone-tipped spears. A bazooka would be complete overkill.
I almost laughed at the thought.
Imagine explaining to a Stone Age tribe what a fucking bazooka is.
Still, I wasn't planning to start a fight. Even with the Healing Factor, getting injured would hurt, and immortality didn't mean I should behave like an idiot.
Besides, killing the first people I'd encountered in this world would be a terrible way to introduce myself.
I needed a better plan.
I looked down at the binoculars in my hands. Since they were made from the Magical Tool, changing them into something else would be easy.
I concentrated on the simple leaf coverings the men were wearing.
The tool responded immediately.
The binoculars dissolved into a dark, flowing substance that spread across my hands before reshaping itself into a crude garment made from overlapping green leaves. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but it covered what needed covering and looked reasonably similar to the villagers' clothing.
At least I wouldn't stand out quite so much.
Next came my skin.
I rubbed damp soil across my arms, legs, and face, smearing dirt over the clean skin until I looked as though I'd spent hours wandering through the forest. I messed up my hair and brushed a few leaves against my shoulders.
Then I examined myself.
“Not bad.”
I still looked different from the men I'd seen, but at least I no longer looked like someone who'd stepped out of a modern clothing store.
Now I needed a story.
I couldn't tell them the truth. Saying that I'd died in another world and received a magical system would probably get me treated as a lunatic—or something worse.
So I'd have to lie.
I'd claim that I'd been hunting with my parents when a tiger attacked them. They'd stayed behind to protect me, giving me a chance to escape.
It was simple enough to remember, and the forest seemed like a plausible setting for such a tragedy.
Hopefully, tigers existed in this part of the world.
Even if the animal had a different name, Universal Language should take care of the translation.
“Alright, Alex. Time to put those acting skills to work.”
I moved farther back behind the trees and waited until the men had climbed most of the slope. When they were close enough to see me, I took a deep breath, forced panic onto my face, and ran out from behind the trunk.
“Help! Help me!”
My voice echoed through the trees.
“There's a tiger! A tiger is chasing me!”
The men reacted immediately.
Several spun toward me, raising their spears. Others turned toward the forest behind me, scanning the undergrowth for the animal I'd supposedly escaped.
Their expressions changed from curiosity to alarm in a heartbeat.
One of them shouted something to the others, and the group quickly spread out, their weapons held ready.
For a moment, I couldn't tell whether they were preparing to protect me or wondering whether I was leading a predator straight toward them.
Please buy the act. Please buy the fucking act.
I stumbled toward them, breathing heavily and trying to look as though I'd run for my life. When I finally reached the group, I bent forward with my hands on my knees, gasping for breath.
The leader stepped closer.
His eyes moved over me, taking in my dirty skin, tangled hair, and crude leaf covering. He kept his spear in hand.
“Where is the tiger?”
His voice was rough and cautious.
I understood every word.
For a second, I nearly forgot to keep acting.
Holy shit. Universal Language actually works.
He wasn't speaking English. I could hear the unfamiliar sounds coming from his mouth, yet my mind interpreted them perfectly.
And if the system's description was accurate, my own words would make sense to him, too.
That ability was going to be incredibly useful.
I forced myself to focus and continued the act.
“I… I don't know!” I stammered, letting my voice shake. “It was chasing me! I just kept running!”
The leader glanced toward the trees, then looked back at me.
“What are you doing here, near our tribe?”
There was no friendliness in his tone, but he didn't sound openly hostile either.
I swallowed and lowered my head, pretending to struggle with the memory.
“I lived on the other side of the forest with my mother and father,” I explained. “We hadn't found food for several days, so my father took us hunting. Then the tiger attacked us.”
I paused, forcing myself to take a shaky breath.
“My parents tried to hold it back. They told me to run, so I did. I just kept running until I found you.”
I let my voice trail off.
The story wasn't particularly original, but it didn't need to be. I only needed them to believe I was a frightened young man who'd lost his family and had nowhere else to go.
The leader studied me for a moment.
“Which tribe do you belong to?”
There it was.
I had suspected the question would come eventually. If several settlements existed in the surrounding area, the villagers probably had ways of identifying one another. They might even have rivalries or conflicts with neighboring groups.
I couldn't afford to give the wrong answer.
“I don't belong to a tribe,” I replied. “My mother and father were hunters. We lived by ourselves and hunted for food.”
The leader's eyes narrowed slightly.
I kept my expression miserable and avoided looking directly at him for too long.
Inside, however, I was watching every reaction.
One of the men lowered his spear a little and glanced at the others.
“Perhaps we should take him in,” he suggested. “If his parents were hunters, he might know something about hunting, too. He could be useful to the village.”
That was encouraging.
Very encouraging.
Holy shit. They might actually let me in.
I kept my face down, hiding the smile threatening to appear.
Another man stepped closer and looked me over with an expression of mild surprise.
“Look at him. He hasn't even grown much body hair. He's still a kid.”
He gestured vaguely toward my waist.
I glanced down, then back at him, trying not to react.
Compared with these men, I did look different. Their chests and limbs were covered with thick hair, while my skin was relatively smooth. Even my facial hair was practically nonexistent.
My shoulder-length hair was also shorter than that of several men in the group, whose tangled locks fell well past their shoulders.
Apparently, in their eyes, I looked young enough to be considered a boy.
I wasn't sure whether to be offended or relieved.
On the one hand, being mistaken for a kid wasn't exactly flattering. On the other, it might explain why they weren't treating me as a serious threat.
And if they believed I was a frightened young hunter who'd just lost his parents, that could work in my favor.
I lowered my head again and let my shoulders slump.
“I don't have anyone else,” I said quietly.
The words hung between us.
For a moment, nobody spoke. The men exchanged glances, their expressions difficult to read.
I could only hope they'd decided I was more trouble to abandon than to help.
The leader finally looked toward the others, then back at me.
I stood there with dirt on my face, leaves tied around my waist, and absolutely no idea what would happen next.
My entire future might depend on what this one man decided.
And I was beginning to realize that, despite all my ridiculous abilities, convincing a group of prehistoric hunters to trust me might be the hardest challenge I'd faced so far.