Ren woke up shivering.
The cold had crept into his bones while he slept, making everything ache. He opened his eyes to the same rough roof of leaves and branches. For a long moment, he just lay there, missing his warm bed back home. His body felt stiff and heavy.
Then the knowledge came. Not with flashing lights or sounds—it just arrived in his head like a memory he'd always had.
**New Ability Acquired: Primitive Firestarting**
Suddenly he knew how to make fire. He knew to look for dry bark under fallen logs, how to shape it into a nest, how to find the right stick and use a vine to make a bow drill. The knowing was quiet but certain.
The cold was a good enough reason to move. He crawled out of his shelter, his muscles complaining. The ground was wet with dew, but he remembered something from yesterday's carpentry knowledge—dry wood often hides where you can't see it.
He found a large rotting log and managed to kick it over with his foot. The dirt underneath was dark and dry. He peeled strips of bark from a dead tree and scraped them into a soft, fuzzy pile with his nails. His fingers worked carefully, forming a tight bundle in his palms.
Next he found a straight dry stick and a flat piece of wood. Using a bent branch and tough vine, he made a bow. His hands seemed to know what to do.
He knelt, placed the wood under his foot, and began moving the bow. Back and forth. Back and forth. His arm burned and nothing happened. He almost quit. Then a wisp of smoke appeared. He worked faster, his breath coming quick.
The smoke thickened. A tiny red ember glowed in the wood. Carefully, he tipped it into his tinder nest. He brought it close and breathed softly.
The ember brightened. A small flame sparked, then caught the dry fibers. With a quiet sound, fire bloomed in his hands.
A real fire. He'd made it himself.
Ren sat back, watching the flames dance. He added twigs, then branches. Soon a proper campfire crackled before his shelter. Heat washed over his skin. He held out his hands, and for the first time since waking in that field, he didn't feel completely helpless.
***
With the fire going, Ren finally breathed easier. The warmth felt like a blanket, and the smoke smelled like safety. His stomach had other ideas. It growled, a sharp pain reminding him he hadn't eaten since... he couldn't remember.
He had water. Shelter. Fire. But he was starving.
He glanced at the berry bushes but shook his head. Too dangerous. He needed real food. Meat. But how could he catch anything? He wasn't fast enough to grab a bird or rabbit.
An idea came—not from a message, but from his own hunger. Traps. He didn't need to run. He just needed to be clever.
He looked for useful things. Springy young trees. Strong vines. As he studied a good sapling, new words appeared. Different this time.
**Skill Progress: Improvised Traps – 5%**
**Skill progression unlocked. Your success rate improves with practical use.**
He stared. So he could learn things himself. The system was just keeping score. A small feeling of pride warmed his chest. This was his own doing.
He got to work. He made a simple snare trap, using a bent sapling and vine noose. He set the loop over a faint path in the leaves where small animals might travel. He made two more, his hands improving with each knot.
By the time he finished, the sun stood high. He returned to his fire and sat, chewing a grass stem. He watched the forest, listening for a snap.
Nothing.
The woods stayed quiet. No people sounds. No distant voices. No planes overhead. Just trees, wind, and him.
The truth settled in his stomach, heavier than hunger. He was alone here. Really alone. No one was coming to find him.
***
The traps didn't catch anything that day.
Ren hadn't really expected them to. Hunting took patience. To keep busy, he gathered more wood, stacked it dry under his shelter's edge. He reinforced the walls, wove in more branches. He lined his bed with fresh leaves, trying for more comfort.
Each task was a small stand against the emptiness.
But sometimes he'd stop and listen, hoping for that snapping sound. He heard only forest noises.
As afternoon light softened, he checked the traps. The first had sprung—the sapling was bent, the vine tight. But empty. Whatever triggered it was too small or too fast. The other two traps sat untouched.
Disappointment flickered, then faded. Something had found it. That was something. He reset the first trap, making the loop smaller.
He returned to camp as shadows grew long. He rebuilt the fire, the routine comforting. Sparks danced into the darkening sky. The warmth was a shield against night. He was learning. Adapting. Each night felt slightly less terrifying.
Then a rustle.
He froze, hand finding his pointed stick. The sound came again—dry leaves crunching, too deliberate for wind. Left side.
He stood slowly, moving into firelight, holding his stick ready. His heart thumped. Another sound, closer. A shape moved at darkness's edge—small, low, darting between bushes.
It wasn't coming for him. Wasn't even looking his way. Just some forest creature living its life. But his trap had drawn something. Maybe tomorrow would be different.
He exhaled, lowering his stick.
**Passive Insight: You are adapting to your environment. Efficiency increased by 3%. Future actions using known materials will require less time.**
Another quiet message. A small reward for not panicking.
He didn't know how long he'd be here. Didn't know where here was. But as he sat by his fire, he knew one thing clearly now:
He could survive this.
And with every night's sleep, he'd wake up stronger.