Chapter 2: Chapter 2: Waking Up
Pain. Pain is the first thing he felt when the first dredges of consciousness began to reach him. It felt like a knot was in his stomach, with some invisible force constantly pulling it taught and rearranging it. But just as noticeable was the burning sensation on his chest. Stinging with great ferocity, the wound had him instinctively moving his hand to grip the offending the site.
But instead of feeling ripped fabric, torn skin, or even blood; all he felt was something smooth and somewhat coarse. The textures altered slightly with his searching hand, and he felt various grooves, folds, and metallic points. What was he wearing exactly? The initial shock from the pain had subsided considerably at this point, and it was only now that Alex began to realize that he didn’t feel blood on his person. There was no smell of copper in the air, no sickly warmth that would stick his clothes to his skin, or even just the sensation of liquid running down his body.
It was at that moment that Alex finally looked down on himself. There was indeed no blood to be found, but the feelings from before were now all contextualized when he saw the layers of leather and cloth. Most of which was black. Well, the leather was black. Like pitch or oil. But the cloth that hung over it was a very dark shade of brown.
But what really stuck out to him visually was his hand. It wasn’t his. Well, that would make sense if he was thrown into another world, but this hand didn’t even look similar to what he had before. It was several shades lighter than what he had, and more importantly, it looked absolutely frail. The white skin was practically clinging onto the bone, and the strain that laid apparent on it with callouses and bruises almost made him physically ill when he realizes that the rest of ‘his’ body may look similar.
Sure enough, when he attempted to raise his arm toward the morning sun he felt like it took a greater amount of energy than it should have. It was like lifting a small weight and the higher he made it go, the more his clothes seem to hang off of it. Like he was a few sizes too small.
His arm dropped to his face with a small ‘smack!’, and the full realization of his current situation almost had him choke out a mutilated scream.
He was starving, and he was now residing in a body that was clearly emaciated to a degree. Zackai—whatever his name was—may not have put him in a warzone, but this was hardly any better. His stomach still felt like it was tying itself into knots, and his chest pain was still there, although it was starting to subside now. What was that?
Deferred pain from his hunger? A side effect of an unknown illness? Or did this body have some other condition that gave him chronic chest pain? It would be just his luck.
...Well. What’s-his-face said he try not to starve to death, right? He suggested foraging or hunting to avoid that. So he had to go do that.
Heaving his body into a sitting position, Alex found himself evaluating his surroundings in a blurry daze. There was grass, trees, and sunlight filtering through the branches. The wind was making a pleasant sound as it ran through the branches, and even the sound of insects chirping did its part to sooth him.
Swallowing saliva as he tested his throat, he spoke. It sounded a little deeper than what he was used to, rougher as well. Although that last part was probably because he was dehydrated. “The perfect starting area...right?”
As he started to stand up he heard the sound of clinking metal as a small pressure slid off his lap. He looked down to see a sheathed dagger lying plainly on the ground, with its lose buckles and long strands tell him that it was likely to his person at one point. Could he call this body “his” person? He only woke up just now, and as far he knew, that was the extent of his existence in this world. So if his body existed before that, would that technically still make it “his”? Or would it belong to whoever made it? He still hasn’t ruled out the possibility that this ailing body was just the result of a god with a dark sense of humor.
Questions for another time. Right now, he had a knife. A valuable and versatile tool that can be used in any survival situation. Bending on his knees to pick it up, he tried to his bearings. He needed to find food and water as quickly as possible. Things like making shelter, finding civilization, and determining his location would all have to wait because of how his ‘new transfer’ effect will only last a day. If things have as morbid of a turn as he thinks it has, then the only reason he hasn’t died immediately was because of that effect. Meaning he likely had a 24-hour time limit to get his health into decent shape.
Under normal circumstances this would mean he avoid interacting with creatures at all, lest they turn out to be dangerous and kill him off in his weakened state. But if he physically couldn’t die so long as he remained in the starting area...
“Meat.” He mumbled, resolving to maul the biggest creature he came across. For today at least, he had nothing to lose. Not even his own life could be taken from him. Taking a few steps on wobbly legs that he barely recognized as his, he felt a thrill of accomplishment run through him when he touched his first tree trunk. A paltry achievement, but to him it served as confirmation that he could walk, a bare minimum requirement for traveling on foot. If he could do this, he was pretty sure he could stab something to death. He didn’t care how this world worked; the math worked in any world. Pointy stick plus poking weak animal equaled meat.
Taking a deep breath of fresh air, he walked forward with purpose, pointedly trying to locate any creature of any considerable size. Drawing his knife to grip it firmly in his hand, he barely registered the sound of its sheath falling uselessly to the ground, where it would most likely remain for the rest of its days.
He didn’t realize it at the time, but with how he was pretty he looked like a maniac. Thin limbs, darkly dress, and gripping a knife with a shaking hand? He was basically a murder hobo.
But it didn’t matter how much he walked to look for something to stab. He found a furry squirrel creature and it ran up a tree as soon as it saw him. He was within walking distance of what looked like a chipmunk with large ears and he tripped over his own feet when he tried to get it. He even lunged at mole creature with glowing eyes, and all he got in return was a fistful of dirt when it dug a hole in record time....and then it sprayed him. Apparently, it was similar to skunk in that it could make someone smell exceptionally bad.
Now he smelled like a dumpster fire, and ever since that regrettable attack, he hasn’t even seen another living creature. If they weren’t avoiding him before due to his haggard clomping, they were certainly giving him a wider berth due to his horrid stench.
It eventually got to the point that he seriously contemplated eating grass. But he knew better. Not only was grass disgusting, but it provided basically nothing in terms of sustenance. No, if he was going to eat some stationary thing, it needed to be something else. Like fruit, or even tree sap. Insects may also be useful, although from what he could tell none of these trees looked sickly or infested. No fruit either.
Just wood, twigs, and the occasional tiny flower to signal the arrival of a new bud. The tree bases were little better. Just grass, weeds, and... was that a mushroom?
The fungi had Alex lowering to his knees, one hand hesitantly extending out to poke and prod the white cap. He didn’t know much about fungi. But if it wasn’t colorful that meant it was unlikely that it was poisonous right?
He picked up the largest mushroom, turning it this way and that as he evaluated it. It had no insects in its thin folds underneath the cap, no sweet or acrid smell to attract things, no odd spots to signify disease....it looked rather plain, really. No pustules on the cap, no ring on the stem, and when punctured it with his fingernail it just smelled earthy.
He didn’t think it was poisonous, but even if it was, would it even matter? How long could a poison effect even last? It’s not like he would die within the next few hours.....and he was really hungry. The pain from before came to the forefront of his mind, and before he knew what was really happening the mushroom was making its way towards his mouth.
He barely made a face as the earthy-smooth texture made its way down his throat. The pain in his stomach lessened considerably after a moment, as if it was relieved to finally have something to digest. But it wasn’t enough. Not even close. Mushrooms of any sort are not known to be especially filling on their own, and it was especially true of this morsel.
The action had Alex licking his lips, barely even bothering to evaluate the little flower he picked as he stuffed it into his mouth. It reminded him of a dandelion, and those were actually safe to eat in his world. So maybe this one was similar? Sadly, there was only a handful of flowering weeds near him, and now his mouth was beginning to overflow with saliva at the mere thought that something near him might be edible. He ate a leafy weed that tasted slightly sweet, a blade of thick grass that tasted absolutely horrible, and he even went through the trouble of digging up the roots so he can place them in his overly eager mouth—dirt and all.
But this patch of ground must have been on a nest or something, because he spotted several wiggly things trying to make their way back underground. Some looked like a cross between mealworms and magots, their white exterior looking more like a gelatinous casing than a proper exoskeleton. The others looked like standard worms.
He stuck with eating the worms.
He had no idea how long he stayed like that, digging at the ground like some sort of desperate mad man. But he found himself caring less and less the more his stomach began to feel like it was being filled. The good news is that he didn’t feel sick or ill yet, so that seemed like a promising sign.
It was only when the sun started to fall that he found himself leaving his little patch of holes and uprooted plants. He didn’t have a particular destination in mind, he just knew he had to find some source of water.
It didn’t take him too long, actually. Even with him making his way through the woods blindly, it didn’t take him too long to identify dense foliage and follow it. When he saw the flowing steam, he wasted barely any time in approaching it. Doing a brief scan to search for any contaminants in the water like red algae or animal carcasses, his hands almost immediately found themselves under the surface.
Alex felt the stirrings of joy as he saw the muck leave his hands, and when he brought his hands up to drink he found himself growing even happier as the moisture moved past his dry lips. He could have sat on that bank for hours, relishing in the idea that his body finally had the bare minimum requirements to continue living.
But this was a prime opportunity to wash of the stench from that mole-skunk thing. Hoping that whatever he was wearing would dry on its own, he found himself slowly wading into the water before, intending to dunk his head at the soonest opportunity. But the sight of his reflection stopped him.
He never saw his face before.
It looked dirty and was looking quite gaunt of course, but there was denying how nice he would look under normal circumstances. Black hair, blue eyes, and a small scar on his cheek were his more distinct features. Tentatively bringing a hand to touch his cheek, he delicately stroked the skin, watching rapt attention as his reflection did the same.
He looked.....cool. Especially with this armor. It wasn’t the type of character he usually preferred, but it certainly better than being stuck in a body that had an ugly face. Especially if it looked like someone was testing out the sliders in character creation and decided to put them all to the max.
Speaking of looks and armor, did he have any skills or abilities? He didn’t think he did, given his previous performance, but it would be helpful if he had a list or something to show him his proficiencies or something.
As if his thought process triggered something, his reflection started to alter slightly. White shapes were beginning to take form, and before he was finished blinking to get rid of what he thought was a trick of the light, he found himself looking at a familiar list of numbers and abbreviations. STR, DEX, WIS, INT, etc.
He knew a character stat sheet when he saw one. The information had him inching his head closer, the movement causing droplets to fall from his brow and temporarily blur the image with a series of ripples. He didn’t know if these numbers were good or bad since he had nothing to compare them too, but one thing was clear: his wisdom stat was his highest. Sitting at the plump number of 20, this value stood well above the rest. The second highest stat was his constitution, and that sat at a 14. But far more important were the modifiers. With a few exceptions, almost all of his stats were accompanied by a negative number in parenthesis, usually ranging from –3 to –5. A debuff maybe? Or did his armor have some sort of drawback? Wait—did these stats take his armor into account or was it just stats intrinsic to his body?
His eyes wandered towards the top of his reflection, trying to see if there were perhaps any tabs he could interact with or UI status symbols that he can interpret. But it was mostly clear aside from a small section appropriately labeled as “Name” and “Class”. Both were blank. Was he allowed to choose a name? And a class?
He smiled at the thought.
“Freeze!”
The new voice instantly had him holding his hands up and turning around, his still image broken by the sudden movement.
Wearing an impressive set of steel armor and sporting a curtain of long blonde hair, the woman was situated with a battle stance on the bank with hatred in her eyes. “If you agree to come quietly, none of this has to get violent.” She sternly stated.
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone