Day 4.
Kaiser sat in his cave, staring at the cold wall as morning light filtered weakly through the moss-draped entrance.
He hadn't slept much.
The nightmare lingered, sticky like sweat on his back.
Blurred faces. Accusing fingers. Mouths moving, but no sound—until a deafening buzz filled his head, as if the world itself rejected him.
He clutched his diary like an anchor and scribbled blindly.
"I think I'm cracking. I miss my family. I miss noise. Traffic. My broken fan. Even the neighbor's dog."
He leaned back and closed his eyes.
"It's only been four days."
His rations were almost gone. A few cans left, a handful of biscuits. Water was fine now, but food…
He sighed, then opened the [TRANSMIGRATION GROUP CHAT] out of habit.
Still just him.
kaiser[1]: Just wondering, mysterious admin, did you mean to throw me here?kaiser[1]: Was it a test? Was I the chosen one?kaiser[1]: Chosen to starve in the woods with no cheat? Thanks, I hate it.
He chuckled, but it didn't reach his eyes.
The silence swallowed the sound.
That afternoon, hunger gnawed at him harder than any wild beast might.
He'd always told people he wasn't a "pet person." Animals made him uncomfortable—unpredictable, alien in their logic.
But this wasn't the time to be picky.
If he couldn't find more food soon…
He picked up his crude crossbow and headed out.
"I can't believe I'm about to play survival hunter in a fantasy world," he muttered.
The forest air was crisp. Alive. Birds chirped in the distance, and the occasional squirrel darted across branches.
He tracked a rabbit for a while, but his nerves wouldn't let him pull the trigger.
His hands trembled too much.
He sat under a tree, exhausted, clutching his crossbow like a confession.
"I can't even kill a damn rabbit," he whispered.
It wasn't just fear. It was… resistance.
Back home, he'd swerved his bicycle for stray dogs, apologized to ants, and once spent a whole afternoon freeing a trapped moth from his window.
And now he was supposed to kill?
How did those cultivation protagonists do it?
"Probably got used to it," he said aloud. "The world forced their hand. Over and over until they forgot how to hesitate."
He looked at his shaking fingers.
"How many hesitations can I afford?"
He opened his laptop again, desperate for guidance. His power meter blinked: 43%.
Too low.
He quickly skimmed the offline survival PDFs he'd downloaded: basic traps, safe berries, primitive cooking methods.
He didn't even know how to gut an animal, let alone cook one.
"I wish I watched more Bear Grylls."
His watch beeped softly: 6:00 PM.
He shut the laptop and quietly opened a can of beans—one of the last.
Each bite tasted like shame.
Day 5.
The hunger was worse now.
He set out early, determined to do something. Anything.
Following a different path near the stream, he found a patch of red berries.
They looked plump. Juicy.
But deadly?
He pulled out his offline survival guide. No match. Could be safe. Could be toxic.
He held one in his fingers for a long moment.
"Am I this desperate?" he muttered.
He pocketed a few. Just in case.
No rash decisions. Not yet.
Back in the cave, he placed the berries on a flat rock and stared at them.
They stared back.
Like a test.
And somewhere deep inside, a thought whispered—
How long until you're willing to try, Kaiser?