A few days later.
He sat on a thick branch overlooking the riverbank, both legs dangling freely as they swayed in the open air.
The afternoon breeze rustled the leaves around him, carrying with it the steady murmur of flowing water below.
His gaze drifted into the distance, unfocused.
For the past few days, he had spent his time doing little more than securing the basics of survival.
He explored the nearby forest, slowly familiarizing himself with the terrain.
Along the way, he marked places worth remembering—areas where edible plants grew, quiet bends of the river where fish were plentiful, and certain parts of the forest he quickly learned to avoid.
Danger zones.
It was a simple routine, but a necessary one.
Still, something had been bothering him.
Magic.
If this world truly resembled the fantasy settings he once read about, then magic should exist. At least, that was the assumption he had been operating on.
For several days now, he had been experimenting whenever he found the time. Unfortunately, there were no instructions, no helpful interface, no convenient "click here to activate magic" prompt floating in the air.
He had tried the methods he remembered from anime—focusing his mind, visualizing power gathering in his hands, imagining fire, water, wind, even earth.
Fireballs.
Water cannons.
Wind blades.
Earth walls.
Nothing happened.
Not even a spark.
This left him with a frustrating conclusion.
"Do magic really exist in this world…
—or maybe it worked differently from the magic I had imagined." He muttered, speaking to himself.
He jumped down from the tree and retrieved the bamboo spear he had planted into the ground earlier.
Swinging the satchel over his shoulder, he made his way toward a shallow part of the river.
After removing his clothes, he stepped into the water with the spear in hand.
The cold current brushed against his legs as he moved slowly, watching the ripples and shadows beneath the surface. When a fish drifted too close, the spear struck.
By the time he climbed back onto the riverbank, several fish hung from a cord tied to his satchel.
He returned to the tree house shortly after, placing his catch on the wooden rack he had built above the fireplace. The rack sat high enough for heat and smoke to reach the fish, helping dry them slowly.
Inside the square hearth he had made from stacked logs and packed soil, he arranged twigs and firewood before striking the flint he had found a few days earlier.
Sparks caught.
A small fire soon crackled to life.
He skewered several fish on thin sticks and laid them across two parallel branches above the flames, turning them occasionally as they roasted.
Sitting beside the fire, he watched the flames dance while waiting for the fish to cook.
His thoughts drifted.
For the past few days, he had been sustaining himself with wild fruits, berries, and the fish he caught in the river.
It was enough.
But some meat would be a welcome change.
Once the fish were finished and his stomach filled, he stood and began searching the surrounding trees.
Eventually, he found what he was looking for—a long, straight branch.
He trimmed it carefully and sharpened the tip with his sword.
When he raised it, his gaze sharpened, and a screen appeared.
Name: Wooden Spear
Quality: Good
Description: A spear made of wood.
He nodded slightly.
Thanks to his skill, Artisan Touch, anything he crafted—no matter how crude it looked—would turn out well-made.
Satisfied, he rose to his feet.
With his spear in hand, he moved out.
Traveling above ground from branch to branch, it didn't take long for him to reach his destination. One of the places he marked during his explorations.
An open clearing.
From the marks scattered across the earth, it was clear this place was frequently visited.
The soil was torn and uneven.
A place where boars gathered… played… and rooted through the ground for food.
He settled onto a sturdy branch overlooking the clearing and waited.
Silence returned to the forest.
Time passed.
Eventually, movement appeared at the edge of the clearing.
A small group of creatures stepped into the open.
Their eyes glowed red beneath the shade of the trees, and two large fangs curved upward from their jaws.
Boars.
His gaze focused.
Name: Bristleback
Class: E
Description: Large, muscular, red-eyed beast. Tusks long and sharp. Aggressive if cornered, but slow and predictable. Its meat is extremely delicious.
He remained perfectly still.
Watching.
Waiting.
The creatures wandered through the clearing, pushing their snouts into the soil as they searched for food.
Then an opportunity appeared.
One of them slowly drifted away from the group, wandering closer to the trees.
It lowered its head and began rooting through the ground.
Without a sound, he moved.
Branch to branch.
Closer.
Until he reached a branch directly above the unsuspecting creature.
He stood steady, gripping the spear in both hands.
Inhale.
Exhale.
He held his breath.
Then he stepped forward.
His body dropped from the branch, falling straight toward the boar below.
The sharpened spear struck first.
The wooden tip drove into the creature's neck, piercing through and emerging on the other side.
The boar let out a sharp squeal before collapsing onto the ground.
Its legs kicked wildly for a moment…
Then stilled.
Without hesitation, he pushed off the ground and leapt back into the trees.
Perched high in the tree, he quietly watched the chaos unfolding below.
The herd scattered in panic, sprinting in every direction before vanishing into the forest.
Within moments, the clearing returned to silence.
He remained where he was, unmoving.
His eyes stayed fixed on the boar lying motionless beneath the tree, as if he were waiting for something to happen.
Nothing did.
After a moment, he slowly lifted his head and looked toward the sky.
"…Is that it?"
His loud voice broke the stillness.
Looking back down at the motionless creature, he narrowed his eyes.
"Aren't you supposed to turn into a pile of meat and materials?"
He frowned.
"Huh?"
"Where's the fantasy?"
The forest answered with silence.
Only the startled flutter of birds taking flight echoed in the distance.
He stared at the dead boar for a moment before letting out a long sigh.
His gaze swept across the clearing, scanning the surrounding trees in every direction.
When nothing moved, he finally jumped down.
Gripping the spear, he pulled it free from the creature's neck. Blood immediately surged from the wound, spilling onto the grass and staining it dark red.
He stepped back for a moment, watching.
When the body remained still, he bent down and tied a length of vine around the boar's hind legs.
Then he started dragging.
The carcass scraped against the ground as he pulled it toward the river, stopping every few steps to scan the forest around him.
At the faintest rustle of leaves or snap of a twig, he would leap back into the trees, waiting silently before climbing down again to continue.
Eventually, he stopped, breathing heavily.
He turned and stared at the carcass behind him.
"Did you really have to play this far from the river?"
He wiped sweat from his forehead and looked up at the sky again.
"You gave me a satchel…"
He paused to catch his breath.
"But it's so freaking ordinary."
He tossed the satchel on the ground in annoyance.
His Adam's apple moved up and down as he swallowed his saliva.
"Why not a magic bag where I could just stuff this huge thing inside and carry it like a feather?" He complained, thinking of item box skills he often saw in anime.
With a tired groan, he dropped to his knees and sat for a moment before forcing himself back up.
Dragging.
Stopping.
Complaining.
Little by little, he eventually reached the riverbank.
Once there, he took a moment to catch his breath before gathering a pile of leaves and covering the carcass.
Then he turned and headed back into the forest.
Sometime later, he returned, arms filled with sticks, twigs, and several broad leaves from the broadleaf tree.
When he returned to the riverbank, he set the bundle of sticks and broad leaves down beside the carcass.
The boar lay where he had left it, half-hidden beneath the pile of leaves.
He pulled the body closer to the small frame he had prepared earlier—two thick logs resting on low supports, set parallel to each other so the carcass could lie across them without touching the ground.
With some effort, he rolled the boar onto the logs.
Then gathered the twigs and firewood he had brought back and piled them beneath the frame.
A few strikes of the flint sent sparks into the dry fibers until a small flame caught.
Soon, the fire crackled steadily beneath the suspended body.
The coarse hair began to curl and burn.
He turned the carcass slowly, adjusting it whenever the flames licked too high.
The smell of scorched hair drifted through the air as the bristleback blackened and shriveled.
Once the surface was evenly singed, he took his sword and began scraping.
Charred hair and soot peeled away under the edge of the blade, revealing the clean skin beneath.
He worked methodically, turning the body as he went until most of the burnt hair had been removed.
Satisfied, he shifted the carcass again so it rested evenly across the two logs.
Then he began the real work.
Using the sword, he bent one leg and cut through the joint at the knee.
The blade slid between bone and tendon with a firm push.
One foot came free, then the other.
After that, he turned his attention to the belly.
Carefully, he drew the blade along the abdomen, keeping the cut shallow as the skin parted.
With both hands, he opened the cavity and reached inside.
He began removing the organs one by one, setting them aside on the broad leaves.
When most of the innards were out, a pool of blood collected inside the cavity.
He scooped it out with his hands, letting it spill onto the soil beside the fire until the inside was mostly clear.
Once finished, he carried the organs to the river.
Kneeling at the edge, he rinsed them thoroughly in the flowing water, turning them over and over until the blood washed away with the current.
The smaller intestines took longer, requiring several careful rinses before they were clean enough.
When he returned to the carcass, he began cutting the meat into manageable portions.
Each piece he laid carefully onto the wide, broad leaves, folding the leaves over them before placing the bundles into his satchel.
The leaves kept the dirt off and helped hold the meat together inside the satchel.
Little by little, the carcass grew lighter, and by the time he finished, the satchel hung heavy at his side as he surveyed the riverbank.
Dark patches of blood marked the soil where he had worked.
Scooping up handfuls of loose dirt, he scattered it over the stains until the ground returned to its natural color.
Only then did he wash his hands and sword carefully before gathering his things.
With the satchel over his shoulder and the remaining leaves bundled under his arm, he turned away from the river and headed back toward the forest.
Back at his home.
He set the satchel carefully on the ground below, only taking with him the innards wrapped in the broadleaf tree leaves as he leapt onto the balcony.
From the railing, he dropped the vine he often used to haul heavy things.
With a quick jump back down, he tied the satchel to the vine, then pulled it up with a grunt.
Once the meat was secured, he hung the bundles above the fireplace, letting the smoke curl around them.
Then he skewered the intestines carefully and set them over the fire, turning them slowly as the flames licked the edges.
Outside, the forest shifted.
The sun sank behind the trees, and the pale silver of moonlight replaced its warmth.
The undergrowth began to stir as the nocturnal life of the forest came alive—the subtle rustle of creatures, the soft buzz of insects, the occasional distant call of a nightbird.
Inside the tree house, the firelight flickered softly against the wooden walls.
Smoke rose in a thin, steady column, disappearing into the night sky, carrying with it the scent of roasting meat.