He slept deeply, like a man who had finally earned his rest.
His stomach was full, his thirst quenched.
The thrill of his first successful hunt still lingered in his chest, pulsing through him like a second heartbeat.
And yes, the release before sleep left him heavy but satisfied.
Yesterday had been survival.
Today had to be progress.
He woke knowing the day would be demanding, and his mind was already racing with plans.
The tasks swirled in his head like a storm: food, tools, armor, and water.
All things a man needed not only to live but to dominate.
He had to craft a waterskin, prepare his meat, forge a helm from tusks, and drape a hide across his shoulders.
These were not just objects.
They were symbols.
Proof that Ako was no simple wanderer but a man of strength, a man who bent this savage world to his will.
He started with the water.
He grabbed his spear and made his way down to the pool where the boar had fallen.
The carcass was heavy and stiff but still useful.
He sliced open the stomach and intestines, rinsing them in the water.
The smell was sharp and sour, but he pushed through.
He scrubbed them against stone, flushed them clean, until the stench faded.
Slowly, carefully, he shaped the stomach into a pouch and tested it with water.
He waited.
No leaks.
He grinned.
In this primitive world, he had made a vessel of life.
He tied it with the crude bone needles he had carved the night before, binding it with fibers twisted from bark.
It held.
The weight of it in his hands filled him with pride.
No longer would thirst drag him to the pool every time. Now, water would come with him.
[+50 XP]
Intelligence +1
New Skill Progress: [Primitive Crafting Lv.2]
Back in the cave, he turned to the meat.
The boar's body was a mountain of flesh.
His hands ached as he sliced through it, blood dripping down his arms.
The smell was thick, iron and musk filling the cave.
He carved the choicest cuts, laying them aside.
The rest he hung.
He bent and shaped branches into hooks, jabbed them into the rock walls, and hung strips of meat to dry.
Fat glistened in the light, droplets falling and sizzling in the embers.
Smoke curled upward, carrying the promise of preservation.
The finest cuts he bound together with cord, stacking them neatly.
This would be his offering to the tribe, a gift of strength, proof that he was not empty-handed, proof that he could hunt, that he could provide.
When they saw the meat, they would see not only flesh but also power and the man who brought it.
[+40 XP]
Endurance +1
New Resource: [Boar Meat Stockpile]
But meat alone was not enough.
He needed armor.
He needed a symbol of terror and dominance.
The boar's tusks would serve him well.
He dragged the skull into the firelight.
With a sharp stone, he chipped away the flesh that clung to it.
The smell was foul and acrid, but he did not falter.
Sweat poured from his brow, dripping onto the bone.
He pried the tusks free, their edges gleaming with menace.
He held them in his hands, feeling their weight, their promise.
He took the skull, scraped it clean, and carved small holes with his spearhead.
The stone bit into bone, grinding with each push.
Slowly, he made the sockets, then lined them with fibers.
He tied the tusks into place, fixing them as horns. He shook the skull, testing it, and the tusks did not move.
They held fast.
He could not see himself, but he could imagine it: a man with horns, a warrior draped in blood and hide, eyes burning with hunger.
A demon to some, a leader to others.
Either way, a figure to be feared.
[+70 XP]
Strength +2
New Skill Unlocked: [Intimidation Lv.1]
He cleaned the floor and pushed the scraps aside.
His body ached, but he was not done.
The hide awaited.
He cut deep into the boar's skin and peeled it back in thick strips.
His spearhead scraped muscle from flesh, separating what clung.
The hide was heavy and damp, but he dragged it outside to dry.
The sun hardened it, the smell lingering in the air, sharp and wild.
Hours passed, sweat soaking him, but finally it was ready.
He lifted it onto his shoulders.
It was heavy, pressing against his back, but he welcomed the weight.
The boar was part of him now.
This cloak was not just warmth.
It was armor.
It was a declaration.
He walked to the entrance of Ako's Haven, the skull helm in his hands, the hide cloak on his back.
For the first time, he felt not just like a survivor, but a chieftain.
And then he saw them.
Eyes in the brush.
Figures in the distance.
Men and women of the tribe.
They watched from behind trees and rocks, their whispers drifting like smoke.
He caught the glimmer of recognition, the tilt of a head, and the awe in their gaze.
Word of him had spread already.
Perhaps the two women had told them.
Perhaps they had simply followed the scent of blood.
Whatever the reason, they were here.
They thought they were hidden, but he felt their eyes like fire on his skin.
They stared at the tusks, the cloak, and the spears.
They studied his muscles and the way he moved.
They saw a man who killed beasts, who drank from the earth, and who crafted weapons and armor from nothing.
They saw a man who should not exist in their world.
But he ignored them.
He let them watch.
Let them wonder.
His hands did not falter.
He kept working, binding, and preparing.
Their whispers meant nothing yet.
Tomorrow, they would mean everything.
[Character Sheet Updated]
Strength: 7
Endurance: 6
Intelligence: 6
Charisma: 4
Night came.
The meat hung drying, the skull helm rested against the wall, and the hide cloak draped across his shoulders.
He sat by the fire, staring into the flames.
The crackle echoed in the silence, sparks dancing upward like fireflies.
He breathed deep, the smoke filling his lungs, his eyes narrowing as he thought.
He tallied what he had: water, food, shelter, weapons, armor, and strength.
What he lacked, he could not name.
For the first time since waking in this world, he felt whole.
A man complete.
Tomorrow, he would approach the tribe.
Tomorrow, he would step into their world not as a beggar, not as prey, but as Ako.
He would bring gifts, meat, and proof of his power.
He would show them that he was not a threat to be feared but a force to be respected.
And if they could not see that, then they would see what happened when they defied him.
The fire died down.
Shadows danced along the walls of Ako's Haven, stretching long, reaching toward him.
He pulled the hide tighter across his back and felt the weight of the skull helm beside him.
His chest rose and fell, exhaustion heavy in his limbs, but inside him burned something fiercer than fire.
Enough watching from the shadows.
Enough whispers.
Tomorrow he would step into the open.
Tomorrow he would meet them face-to-face.
And as his eyes grew heavy, only one thought remained: what would tomorrow bring?