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The great tree Matsurize clung to swayed violently from side to side. In his past life, he had been nothing more than a near-thirty office worker who had never experienced anything like this. He was terrified that the tree might be knocked down by the pack of wolves below.
At this point, he still didn't know that those weren't ordinary wolves—they were a pack of Blade Wolves.
The Blade Wolves weren't only cornering Matsurize; they were also relieving their own pain. The horns atop their heads grew constantly, especially after nightfall, when the growth became excruciatingly rapid.
Matsurize's fears were unnecessary, though. The tree had withstood such assaults for quite some time—it wasn't something a pack of Blade Wolves could bring down in a single night.
Leaves shook loose and fluttered down one after another. Matsurize's body was already filthy, caked in mud from wandering through the forest. Now, with leaves sticking all over him, he was covered in mud and foliage—so much that from a distance, he blended perfectly with the tree.
Unfortunately, he had already exposed himself earlier—snoring, trembling the branches in panic from his fear of heights. The mud had concealed his scent well enough, but his movements had drawn attention, placing him squarely in the Blade Wolves' sights.
However, as more leaves fell and covered his body, and as Matsurize stayed completely still, something curious happened. The wolves below grew confused. His scent grew weaker under the blanket of leaves, and his body was almost entirely hidden. In their keen noses and sharp eyes, Matsurize's presence vanished.
Still, wolves were wolves—creatures of patience and persistence.
They continued ramming the tree to ease their pain, loitering beneath Matsurize's perch.
Matsurize was petrified, too scared to move a muscle, which ironically improved his chances of survival.
Thus passed a long and terrifying night. The Blade Wolves howled beneath the tree until dawn, and Matsurize spent the entire night trembling and sleepless.
When daylight finally came, he could at last see the ground below.
He cautiously looked around—still clinging tightly to the trunk, moving only his head. The sight was almost comical.
Finally, he exhaled in relief. The pack had gone.
He was exhausted and starving, but still afraid the wolves might return. His fear of heights was instantly cured by desperation.
Clumsily, Matsurize began climbing down—but halfway through, he lost his grip and fell.
The fall wasn't too severe, but he was so weak and hungry that he lay still for a while before struggling back to his feet.
He didn't bother cleaning off the mud or leaves; in fact, he suspected that his filthy state might have been what saved him by masking his scent.
Looking down at the ground, he found wolf tracks—seven or eight pairs, at least.
Matsurize didn't dare linger. This place was far too dangerous.
He turned in circles, unsure which way to go. Then, glancing again at the direction the Blade Wolves had left, he decided it was best to head the opposite way.
He had barely walked a few steps before stopping again. The shoes on his feet were cutting into him painfully.
Taking them off, he found them filled with hardened mud—the same shoes he'd worn while climbing the tree. After a single night, they were completely ruined.
He tossed them aside and looked at his blistered feet. Walking barefoot wasn't an option either.
Matsurize didn't know how to weave straw sandals, but he was inventive enough.
He took off his pants, hesitated briefly, then tore off both pant legs at the bottom.
Now wearing shorts, he slid the torn fabric over his feet as makeshift covers.
It wasn't ideal, but it worked well enough. After taking a few test steps, he nodded and continued on his way with renewed determination. The path ahead remained peaceful for a while.
He even managed to gather a few wild fruits along the way. They were sour and astringent, but hunger left him with no choice—better that than nothing.
Yet his brief calm didn't last long. Barely half an hour later, Matsurize faced another crisis.
He froze, hiding behind a large tree. Slowly, he peeked his head out and looked toward the rustling shadows in a nearby thicket.
What he saw—or rather, what little he could make out—was enormous. The dark shapes were easily twice his size. And there wasn't just one of them.
He counted quietly under his breath. One large one… two large ones.
They were mostly obscured by bushes, but based on their size and the sounds they made, he began to guess.
That sound—low, guttural grunts, accompanied by the rustle of roots being dug up.
He'd never seen wild boars in person, but he'd heard them before. Judging from the noises, he was certain—these were wild boars.
Sure enough, one of the two massive boars emerged from the brush, stepping into full view.
Matsurize stared at its sharp tusks and powerful muscles. His first thought… was that it looked delicious.
It couldn't be helped—he was starving. But hunger aside, he had neither the courage nor the ability to take on a creature like that.
The forest around him was deathly silent, save for the rustling leaves and the boars' grunting.
Then suddenly—
"Grrrgl… grrrgl…"
The sound echoed loud and clear in the quiet woods.
The boars immediately froze, startled.
Matsurize clutched his stomach, mortified. Of all times, his gut had chosen now to growl.
He stared in horror as the two giant boars turned toward him—and charged.
Behind them, he spotted three smaller boars trailing along.
In that instant, he understood: the parent boars must have mistaken him for a threat to their young.
And they were coming straight for him.