Above

The wind howled through the trees, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and crushed leaves. Kuma felt the shift in the air before he saw anything. The rustling canopy above him danced wildly, whispering warnings in a language he couldn't understand.

Then, it came.

A shadow, impossibly large, moved over him like a living storm cloud. The sheer size of it sent a spike of unease through his gut. The light dimmed for a moment, and Kuma instinctively pressed his back against a thick tree trunk, his breath catching in his throat.

The world above him darkened. The wind, which had been calm moments ago, suddenly roared to life, rustling leaves and snapping thin branches. Then, in a single, breathtaking instant, the blur of a colossal creature descended from the sky.

Kuma barely had time to process what was happening when a blur of brown and white shot past him. His heart pounded. A heavy gust of wind nearly knocked him off balance. Dust and debris exploded into the air. His ears rang with the deafening screech of something massive. Then, he heard another sound—one that sent ice-cold terror through his veins.

A Thornback Boar—its guttural squeals filled the forest. Kuma's eyes widened. The massive creature, the same kind that had once nearly gored him to death, was flailing helplessly in the sky.

Floating? No—being lifted.

Kuma's breath caught as he saw the predator responsible—a Boar-Eating Eagle. Its mighty talons, each as thick as a man's forearm, clamped down on the Thornback Boar's armored hide as though it were nothing more than a struggling rabbit. The boar's massive body, at least the size of a small car, twisted and jerked, trying desperately to break free.

The eagle's bluish-gray beak, curved like a cruel scythe, gleamed under the sunlight. A mane-like crest of long, brown feathers adorned its nape, giving it the appearance of an airborne lion. Its dark face contrasted against the creamy-brown hues of its crown, while its piercing blue-gray eyes scanned the ground below with an unnerving intelligence.

Its wingspan—Kuma could only guess—was easily over twenty meters. Its massive wings stirred the air like a passing storm, sending swirling currents of wind through the trees. Leaves tore from branches, and smaller animals scurried into their burrows, knowing full well that nothing challenged a king of the skies.

The Thornback Boar let out one final, bone-rattling shriek before the eagle's talons dug deeper. With a violent flap, the great bird ascended higher, disappearing into the sky with its struggling prey. The boar's screams faded into the vastness above, swallowed by the endless blue.

Then—silence.

Kuma stood frozen, his breathing ragged. His mind struggled to process what he had just witnessed. This wasn't just some large bird—this was an apex predator, a nightmare with wings, something straight out of mythology.

"I left the Great Snapper's territory… only to stumble into this?" he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. He wanted to laugh, but his body wouldn't let him. His muscles remained stiff, his instincts still expecting danger.

The weight of reality pressed against him. If an eagle like that could effortlessly lift a Thornback Boar, what did that mean for him? If he was spotted, if he looked like prey… he didn't want to imagine the outcome.

The only good news? A predator this size meant it had an enormous hunting range. If he kept moving, he might be able to leave its territory by nightfall.

No hesitation. He needed to move.

Journey Until Nightfall

Kuma walked with urgency, every step filled with purpose. The forest around him felt different now. Every rustle of leaves, every creaking branch put him on high alert. His body screamed for rest, but his mind refused to allow it.

Hours passed. The sun began its descent, streaking the sky in shades of deep orange and violet. His exhaustion grew heavier, but the thought of resting out in the open, exposed to whatever else lurked in this new land, kept his feet moving.

Just before complete darkness settled in, he found a suitable resting spot—a massive, ancient tree with thick, gnarled roots that arched above the ground. The roots were large enough to form a natural alcove, providing a degree of shelter.

"This will do," he muttered, lowering himself carefully. His legs ached, his arms felt like lead, and his back screamed for relief.

But he wasn't safe yet.

He forced himself to check his surroundings—no fresh tracks, no signs of predators nearby. That was a good start. He gathered fallen leaves and soft moss, creating a rough but insulating bedding against the cold earth.

With some effort, he dug a small pit and placed dry twigs inside. A controlled fire would help keep away smaller threats—but a bright flame might attract something worse.

His hands moved with practiced efficiency, striking flint against stone. Sparks flew, catching on the dry grass. Slowly, a tiny flame emerged, casting a warm, flickering glow in the darkness.

Kuma let out a deep sigh. He stared at the flames, his mind replaying the past day's events. The Grand Snapper. The Thornback Boars. And now—the Boar-Eating Eagle.

This world never ran out of ways to kill him.

Still, he wasn't the same man who had been thrown into this wilderness months ago. He had survived—not by luck, but by learning. By adapting.

And if he had to adapt again, he would.

For now, though—he would rest.

As the fire crackled softly beside him, Kuma finally let his body relax, sinking into the rough bedding of leaves and moss. Tomorrow, he would continue his journey.

For now, he would listen to the forest. And hope that nothing was listening back.

Kuma stirred awake before the sun had even begun its slow ascent over the horizon. The sky remained an inky black, the last remnants of the night lingering as a deep, quiet cold wrapped around him. His breath came out in short, misty puffs as he stretched his sore limbs, the stiffness from yesterday's journey still clinging to him.

He had learned to appreciate this early morning silence. Before the creatures of the wild awoke, before the dangers lurking in the shadows revealed themselves, there was peace—a moment of stillness where he could gather his thoughts. His stomach growled, interrupting his moment of solitude. He sighed, shaking his head.

"I want something fried."

The thought rooted itself deep in his mind, a craving so strong it overpowered the fatigue weighing down his body. Then, he remembered—he still had some leftover bear and boar fat stashed in his bag. The idea of sizzling meat on a hot slab of stone made his mouth water.

With renewed energy, he started walking, his boots crunching over the dry leaves. The cool air stung his cheeks, but he pressed on, determined to cover as much distance as possible before the sun was fully up. The terrain slowly shifted from thick underbrush to an open, rolling forest—easier to navigate, but also more exposed.

Then, he heard it.

A faint, distant sound carried by the wind.

Cluck… cluck…

Kuma froze, his heart skipping a beat. His breath hitched as he strained his ears. The sound came again, clearer this time—a soft, almost rhythmic clucking.

No way.

He crouched low, moving with calculated precision, creeping forward until he could see it. A few meters away, pecking at the dirt, was a bird unlike any he had seen before. It had the shape of a chicken but with striking purple feathers that shimmered faintly in the early morning light. Its beady golden eyes darted around, sharp and alert.

Kuma's heart pounded. If I catch this, I'll finally eat something like home.

He activated Analyze.

[Purple Fowl]

HP: 9/9

Description: A bird similar to a domesticated chicken, but slightly larger. Its feathers shimmer with a faint purple hue, and its beady golden eyes are sharp. It feeds on insects, berries, and small critters. Slightly more resilient than a normal chicken, but still fragile. Its meat is known to be tender and full of protein.

Caution: Despite its appearance, it is slightly more alert than an average chicken. Approach with care.

Kuma's grip on his spear tightened. This was his chance. He steadied his breath, adjusted his stance, and crept into a throwing position. His fingers curled around the wooden shaft, muscles tensing. The bird pecked at the ground, oblivious to its impending fate.

With a sharp exhale, Kuma launched his spear.

The weapon sliced through the air, piercing the Purple Fowl straight through its chest. The bird let out a strangled, gurgling squawk, its wings flapping wildly as it staggered, then collapsed with a dull thud.

Silence.

Kuma exhaled sharply, rushing forward. His hands trembled as he retrieved his kill, a mix of excitement and hunger surging through him.

He needed to cook this. Now.

Finding a flat slab of stone proved impossible, but he refused to let that stop him. Scanning the area, he spotted a small sloped clearing beside a hill—perfect for tucking a fire into. He set his kill down and did a quick safety check.

No visible predator tracks. No strange scents in the air. No unsettling noises nearby.

Satisfied, he began setting up camp.

The first step was plucking the feathers. He worked quickly, tugging each feather free with firm precision, creating a small pile beside him. Next, he removed the innards carefully, setting them aside—they'd make good bait later.

Once the carcass was cleaned, he skewered it on a sturdy stick and positioned it over the fire. The moment the fat began to sizzle, an intoxicating aroma filled the air. Kuma's stomach twisted in anticipation.

He rummaged through his pouch, finding his small vial of honey. Without hesitation, he brushed it over the fowl's crisping skin, watching as it glistened under the firelight.

The scent was intoxicating. Sweet, smoky, and rich.

"It's almost like Korean BBQ."

His mind flashed back to memories of city nights, eating grilled chicken skewers at a food stall, the chatter of people around him, the laughter of friends. His throat tightened. Those days were gone.

But here, in this world, with this meal, he could bring a piece of it back.

When the bird had turned a golden brown, juices dripping from the tender meat, he finally allowed himself to take the first bite.

The crispy, honey-glazed skin melted in his mouth. The meat was succulent, bursting with flavor.

His eyes widened. Then, before he could stop himself, tears welled up and spilled down his cheeks.

"This… this is the best thing I've eaten since I got here."

A shaky laugh escaped him as he took another bite. Then another. He couldn't stop. He paired the roasted fowl with mushrooms and berries, shoveling food into his mouth as if he'd never eat again.

He reached for his water and drank deeply, too excited to ration himself properly. By the time he pulled the flask away, he realized it was nearly empty.

He sighed, wiping his mouth.

"That's one thing to worry about tomorrow… but tonight?" He leaned back against the hill, letting the warmth of the fire soak into his skin. "Tonight was one of the best nights I've had."

He stared up at the sky, the stars twinkling softly above him. The fire crackled beside him, its embers dancing in the darkness.

For once, he wasn't just surviving.

He was living.

And that, he thought as sleep finally took him, made all the difference.