Tasteless Meat

The glowing map pulsed softly in his vision, a beacon against the encroaching despair. Potential prey marked nearby. Danger zones flagged in ominous red. It wasn't charity, Sys insisted, just… targeted resource allocation analysis. 

Whatever she called it, it was a chance.

His stomach cramped again, a brutal reminder that hope didn't fill bellies. Those adventurers weren't sharing, and waiting meant dying. Forget caution, forget exhaustion. Hunger was a primal, driving force that eclipsed everything else.

Prove you're worth the energy expenditure, Sunny.

'Yeah, yeah,' he thought, pushing himself up on shaky legs. 'Energy expenditure incoming.'

He focused on the map, picking the closest highlighted symbol – a small, flickering icon suggesting minimal threat, potential protein source. Guided by the glowing lines, he pushed through the moon-dappled undergrowth, his senses straining, trying to recapture that hyper-awareness from the goblin fight.

It didn't take long. Nestled at the base of a thick root, almost invisible in the gloom, was a rabbit. Large, plump, its fur the color of dusty earth. It was asleep, nose twitching faintly, utterly unaware of the starving predator looming over it.

A pang, sharp and unwelcome, went through Sunny. It looked peaceful. Safe in its slumber. Back in the city, he'd envied stray cats sleeping in sunbeams, free from the constant gnawing fear. Ruining this creature's peace felt… wrong.

It's either it or you. The cold logic cut through the sentimentality. This wasn't the city. This wasn't about finding scraps. This was survival, raw and red.

He moved before he could second-guess himself. His speed was startling. One moment he was ten feet away, the next he was lunging, his hand clamping down hard over the rabbit's head and neck before it could even twitch awake. There was a brief, frantic scrabble of paws against the dirt, then a sharp, distinct snap.

Silence.

The small body went limp in his grasp. Warm. He held it for a moment, breathing heavily, the echo of the snapping bone reverberating in his hand. He'd just… ended another life. Easily. Efficiently. Like swatting a fly.

A wave of nausea, different from the hunger, washed over him. He quickly stuffed the feeling down. No time for that.

Following the map's guidance, he found two more rabbits and a bird that looked vaguely like a large, stupid pigeon over the next hour. Each kill was quicker, cleaner than the last, the initial hesitation fading into grim necessity. 

He wasn't proud, but the growing weight of the carcasses slung over his shoulder felt undeniably good. It felt like progress.

[I suggest establishing a temporary base camp approximately 300 meters northeast,] Sys's text popped up, calm and factual. [That area offers good cover, minimal ambient mana signatures suggesting low monster activity, and proximity to a small stream indicated on the map.]

"Right. Thanks," he muttered, shifting the weight of his kills. Having the silent AI back, even in its 'resource management' mode, was strangely comforting.

He found the spot easily enough – a small hollow sheltered by thick bushes and the roots of an ancient, gnarled tree. It felt secluded, defensible. The stream Sys mentioned trickled nearby, the sound of running water surprisingly calming.

"Okay, fire?" he asked the air, feeling slightly less stupid talking to the System now. "How do I…?"

[Look around you dummy. Those dry tinder, fallen leaves, and appropriately sized branches. pick them up and make a fire, or you could always use divine mana, its not like we are running low or anything.]

Friction method. He vaguely remembered seeing someone do it on a flickering screen somewhere, ages ago. Rubbing sticks together. Sounded tedious.

He gathered the materials Sys indicated – dry moss, tiny twigs, larger branches. Then, mimicking motions he barely recalled, he started rubbing a pointed stick against a flat piece of wood, bracing it with his foot. His hands, powered by STR 15, moved with surprising speed and force. 

It was still hard work, requiring focus and rhythm, but sweat beaded on his brow long before true exhaustion set in. After a few frustrating minutes, a thin curl of smoke rewarded his efforts. He gently blew on the ember nestled in the tinder, coaxing it into a fragile flame.

Success. A small, cheerful fire soon crackled in a hastily cleared pit, pushing back the oppressive darkness and the night's chill.

Now, the messy part. He laid out his kills. Skinning. Gutting. He had no knife, save for the memory of the goblin's crude blade and the adventurer's dagger whistling past his ear.

'Guess it's hands-on.'

He braced himself and started with the first rabbit. His fingers, guided by some grim, newfound instinct, found purchase, and he pulled. 

The skin tore, separating from the muscle beneath with a wet, ripping sound. It was gruesome work, covering his hands in gore, but his enhanced strength made it almost trivial. Tough membranes, stubborn connective tissues – they yielded easily to his grip. 

He worked quickly, mechanically, detaching himself from the reality of what he was doing. This wasn't violence; it was processing resources. Just like Sys would probably phrase it.

'This strength… it's not so bad after all,' he admitted internally, flexing his blood-slicked fingers. Gross, yes. But undeniably useful.

He skewered the cleaned carcasses on green sticks and propped them over the fire. The smell of roasting meat filled the small hollow, utterly different from the adventurers' savory-smelling meal. This just smelled… cooked. Plain. Basic.

When the meat was charred on the outside, he pulled it off, tearing into the rabbit leg with ravenous urgency. It was tough. Stringy. Utterly devoid of seasoning or flavor beyond the faint taste of smoke and blood. It was, objectively, terrible.

But it was food. Real, solid protein filling the aching void in his stomach. He devoured the first rabbit, then the second, then the bird, gnawing the meat off the bones until nothing remained but scraps. He drank deeply from the nearby stream, the cold water soothing his raw throat.

Finally, blessedly, wonderfully full, he leaned back against the tree trunk, warmth radiating from the fire and his satisfied gut. The world seemed sharper, clearer. The gnawing anxiety receded, replaced by a calm, focused exhaustion.

He looked up, past the flickering firelight, past the dark canopy, to where slivers of the night sky were visible. Stars. Countless, brilliant stars glittered like spilled diamonds on black velvet, more vivid and numerous than any he'd ever seen through the city's perpetual smog. It was vast. Overwhelming. Beautiful.

And he was just one tiny, insignificant speck underneath it all. A forgotten kid from another world, now an Awakened killer of small animals, sitting alone by a fire in an alien forest.

He looked down at the map, still faintly glowing in his vision. The danger zones pulsed with their soft red warnings.

"Hey, this world… what can you tell me about it? The monsters, the races… powers? How does any of this actually work?" 

He needed answers. Not just for survival, but for understanding. For figuring out his place in this vast, dangerous, confusing reality.