Pain came before thought.
Takase Musashi woke with something thick and metallic filling his mouth. When he tried to swallow, his throat burned and he coughed violently, warm liquid spilling onto the ground beneath him.
Blood.
His vision swam. The world tilted, trees bending unnaturally as if mocking him. His back screamed in protest when he tried to move, and he collapsed again, breath knocked out of him.
For a moment, he thought he was still dying.
The forest was silent.
Too silent.
No shouting. No footsteps. No panicked voices calling his name.
That realization hurt more than the broken ribs.
"They… really left," he whispered, though his voice barely existed.
Memories replayed in fragments. Ryota's calm voice. The word sacrifice. Hands on his back. Minori crying.
Musashi laughed weakly, the sound breaking halfway through.
"So this is it."
Something wet and cold brushed against his fingers.
He froze.
Slowly, painfully, he turned his head.
A green slime pulsed beside his hand, its translucent body quivering softly, unaware of how close it was to a terrified boy clinging to life.
Musashi's heart slammed against his ribs.
He scrambled back instinctively, but pain shot through his spine and forced him still. The slime crept closer, curious.
If it touches me, he thought, I'm dead.
There was no time to think.
Musashi grabbed a stone with trembling fingers and brought it down with everything he had left.
The impact shattered something inside the slime. Its body collapsed in on itself, dissolving into a puddle of green liquid.
Musashi lay there, panting, waiting for more pain.
Instead, warmth spread through him.
A calm, artificial voice echoed inside his mind.
"Level up. Level 0 reached."
The pain dulled. The sharpness in his chest softened. When he lifted his arm, it moved.
He stared at his hands in disbelief.
"I'm… alive?"
Where the slime had been, nothing remained except a faint sweet smell drifting in the air.
His stomach twisted violently.
Hunger hit him like another injury. Not mild hunger. The kind that made his hands shake and his vision narrow.
He hesitated.
Then he ate.
The texture was strange, but the taste—
Sweet.
Too familiar.
His chest tightened.
Jelly.
Ryota's voice echoed in his head, laughing, talking about some stupid flavor he liked. A memory from a normal classroom, from a normal day.
Musashi covered his mouth as tears spilled down his face.
"I trusted you," he whispered. "I really did."
The forest didn't answer.
Not far away lay the remains of the bear's meal.
Musashi forced himself to stand, leaning against a tree for support. Each step felt wrong, as if his body no longer fully belonged to him.
The corpse was barely recognizable. Torn clothes. Broken limbs. The smell made him gag.
He knelt anyway.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I don't know who you were."
He searched the body carefully, hands shaking, trying not to look too closely at what was missing. He found a knife, worn leather boots, a small bag, and a metal locket.
He dug a grave with his bare hands.
It took a long time.
When it was done, he bowed deeply.
"I will use them," he whispered. "I promise."
The boots were heavy but warm. The knife felt solid in his grip. Real.
For the first time since waking up, Musashi felt something other than fear.
Responsibility.
He walked without a direction.
His body moved on instinct, following the sound of running water until he reached a river. He collapsed at its edge and drank greedily, cold water spilling down his chin.
He washed the blood from his face and arms, watching it disappear downstream.
The reflection staring back at him didn't look like a high school student anymore.
Using the knife, he carved a spear from a fallen branch. His hands slipped often. He cut himself once and wrapped the wound with cloth torn from his uniform.
Fishing took hours.
When he finally caught one, it looked wrong,but with the cost of breaking spear. Its scales shimmered faintly, its eyes too large.
But hunger won again.
He cooked it as best he could.
The first bite tasted bitter.
By the third, pain exploded inside him.
He collapsed, clutching his stomach, vision blurring as his body rejected his mistake.
A screen appeared.
Status: Poisoned
"I messed up," he gasped. "I really messed up."
Night fell as he lay there, barely conscious, listening to the forest breathe around him.
Morning light woke him.
The pain had faded, leaving only weakness.
A brief message appeared and vanished.
Minor poison resistance acquired.
Musashi laughed softly.
"So that's how it is," he murmured. "Learn… or die."
He stood slowly, legs shaking, and looked out at the endless forest.
Yesterday, he had been sacrificed.
Today, he was alone.
And tomorrow… he didn't know.
But he was still breathing.