Mistakes are always made in ways you never expect until you are suffering from them. Boiling water was one of the most basics to survival, and he had completely forgotten this. Squatting under a tree as he slowly used up all the foliage around him. The worst part of the experience was that he had to carefully pay attention to all of it.

 

If he had sepsis or some other disease, his new life would already be over. If the succubi were not even able to make proper bread, how on earth could they get antibiotics? His mind was racing as he wondered how he had been looking at smelting metals before he even had proper water? This was like a newly-hired greeter at a store, claiming they would soon own the place.

 

I will prepare food, water, and medicine. I will never be in this situation again.

 

The thing he was currently missing most though was a toilet, and proper two-ply! He wanted to vent his complaints, but if he did more would come out of his mouth. He woke up, and barely managed to crawl outside.

 

I Should have boiled the water!

 

-

 

Rex was currently mixing water, and clay together, there was tons of it everywhere. After clearing out a small section near his tree he had decided to set up some essentials.

 

Open fires mean smoke, and smoke was easy to detect. The smoke usually means you have unburnt fuel left over, and it escapes in the hot gases. This was very easy to remedy. You could pull a brick out of the bottom of the fire pit, and the cold air coming in from the bottom will trap the hot air. It tries to transfer to the cold air coming in. While the hot air, and fuel, are trapped in that brief hesitation, it gives the fire time to burn out the excess fuel. This produces a fire without smoke.

 

He had seen other fires already, so maybe, this was a bit overboard. This thought entered his mind as he began forming the clay into 2 retaining walls. Using grass and straw as support, he built the walls up several feet with clay. Once they were waist height, he began adding holes into the first retaining wall, then large slots in the bottom of the second wall. When this was finished he laid branches connecting the two walls, then added more clay. This acted as a roof for the 2 walls and blocked most of the air into the chamber.

 

It was finished and looked like a waist-high Colosseum. He began to start a small fire inside it, this is how he would complete it. He needed a lot of very fine ash to make pottery, this fire would run almost non-stop. The area around him was chosen for the ability to produce pottery. He needed something that he could store things in. And while this fire was making the ash for his glaze, it would also cure itself.

 

Building up the fire he saw that the smoke had reduced significantly, and was now almost impossible to see. This was necessary for now, he had also come up with a similar kiln design. The issue with the kiln is that the smoke would be visible, there wasn't a way around it.

 

Walking over to an area on the ground; he looked at various fruits, and berries, placed in a grid. He looked at his exposed forearm and saw multiple small rashes and blisters. Reaching down he grabbed the fruits, and berries, that corresponded with the wounds. While not perfect, this was one way to begin testing foods. The next step was to boil them and test some of the fruits in his mouth. If they tasted bitter or soapy, spit them out.

 

If it wasn't such a dire circumstance, he would feel like a boy scout. Most of this information came from him looking for something to watch on his second monitor. The dream of owning a house had been something he wanted for a long time. He used to watch all kinds of hobby channels, to find things he should prepare for his dream home. Entire nights could be spent designing in CAD for work, and this leads to him finding things to watch.

 

Thirst made his throat dry, but he refused to drink anything. Instead, he began making more clay, the sooner he finished his kiln, the sooner he could start making pots. The kiln would be as tall as him, it would be a standard firebox kiln. It would look like a small house. The fuel would go in the bottom, and the flames would wrap around the back into the pottery chamber and be drawn to a flue.

 

Without iron, he couldn't build a proper door frame, but it didn't matter to him. Busting open an opening each time to get his pots, would be fine. Obsidian was everywhere, further cementing the idea this was a volcano long ago. This was handy as it meant he got to skip a step by making refractory material.

 

He began mixing clay to make pots. 6 pots would enter the kiln, and maybe 1 would leave. The 5 failures would become the glaze of the winner. He was on a timer, he had a day to finish his pot and boil water. Only enough water to fill his waterskin was needed, so the pots weren't required to be large. Lids were also currently unnecessary, so he didn't make them. He didn't know the proper mixture or proportions. He knew failures were inevitable, so he planned to push for 1 or 2 winners.

 

6 ugly pots were finished quickly and entered the kiln soon after. They'd take most of the day to finish, he needed to get it ready, then fill his water and come back. He still had a few hours of daylight left, every moment was important right now. His other goal was to secure another pick, he was going to forge it into a simple ax. The idea of chopping down branches with a stone was too daunting.

 

He stood up carefully, he was wobbly from his bad evening, he also hadn't slept well. The exhaustion had been slowly piling up on his small body. He was very thirsty and had maybe a day before he wouldn't be able to work anymore.

 

“This time will be different, I am just going to the lake.” He told himself this in hopes the water would be cleaner.

 

He wouldn't drink it regardless, but he had to assume it was safer. This time he wasn't taking any ore either. The backpack falling apart had slowed him down before.

 

“Get the pick, get some water, then leave.” Talking to himself had become more, and more, of a habit.

 

Using the trail he had somewhat carved, he raced through the forest. He managed to reach the exchange in less than an hour. It was already empty for the day though. This meant the exchange area was empty of prisoners, but he remained cautious nonetheless. He had left his pick to save weight, as he was currently weakened. He was also a bit gaunt, which made him look more pitiful.

 

Walking through the commons, he got barely more than a glance from the prisoners. There were a lot more of them than he had seen before. Every chair was filled, and some were even standing around. They were all broken into their various factions, the one that shocked him was seeing some mixed factions. He wasn't sure why they were meeting, but he decided to avoid them. Tension was in the air, and it seemed a fight could break out at any time.

 

“They are just using us as food, we can't let it continue like this!” The tiger man he had seen earlier seemed to roar this out at the table.

 

“We should take over the exchange. We can use the succubus as a hostage, you know they won't abandon their own.” A grizzled elf spoke these words without any mercy.

 

He wasn't able to hear anymore, as he had entered the pick room and grabbed a pick. This was something dangerous he walked into, would he be able to leave if there was a revolt? As he reached for a pick he felt something iron and furry wrap around his head. He could see sharp claws next to his eyeball, making him want to scream. He managed to keep it all in though, as he had planned for this.

 

The clawed hand jerked, and turned him by the neck, nearly breaking it as he was dragged along. He was turned towards a black furry face. This looked like some kind of walking pantherman, he also had gray furs. The pantherman stared at him with no reaction that could be seen on his face. Rex had already decided how to act. He just stared blankly forward and chose not to focus on anything. He went slack and seemed like nothing mattered to him.

 

He currently looked like he was dead inside, and just going through the motions. Even the pantherman could not help but think he found a broken toy. The pantherman leaned forward and roared at him at the top of its lungs.

 

He could feel hot spit, and its foul breath hit his face.

 

He must have passed this test, as the pantherman seemed a little embarrassed. You couldn't find a more homeless-looking child, he was even dirtier than the prisoners. The smell coming off of him was terrible, and he maintained a dead face. Looking at him currently, he looked like a tragic refugee. This was a middle-aged man who was assaulting him. The pantherman hadn't expected a reaction like this.

 

He seemed lost as he let go of Rex's dirty hair. Threatening someone who had so little reaction seemed pointless. None of it was fake either, Rex had been resigned that if he was attacked, he would die. This was something he accepted before coming here, and this was the best defense he had. Unless someone was truly sick, no one felt like beating up a child. Who could you proudly brag about such a deed to?

 

The pantherman seemed to walk away mumbling to himself before shouting at Rex.

 

“You didn't hear nothing, got it?.” He said this threateningly.

 

Rex decided to just say nothing and stare. It seemed to work as the pantherman finally left.

 

Rex released an explosive sigh. While he was prepared for something like this, it was still terrifying. He had to treat this like it was an actual panther that found him. It could be assumed, it would react if it heard his heartbeat quicken. Keeping calm was hard, but he managed to detach himself by imagining food. The hunger and thirst were hard to bear right now, it was an excellent distraction.

 

That pantherman Could have crushed his head like a grape. There was no doubt in his mind about that. Its hand had never tensed up at all when it moved him around. This meant it had not applied any of its strength. It had done this casually with just its wrist, nearly lifting him off the ground.

 

He didn't dare dally, quickly selecting a pick. The trick was to look completely unfazed, he walked back through the commons, but paid no attention to anything but his breathing. This didn't stop till he was past the exchange. He didn't dare look back at all. The bridge was the place he felt some sense of relief. He then veered off once he was past it, and followed the river heading towards the lake.

 

Keeping his eyes open was very important, even seemingly useless objects could be helpful. He made a mental note of something, that resembled bamboo, on the way. There was still an hour or so of light. He wanted to work throughout the night making pottery.

 

As he crested a hill towards the lake, Rex took a deep breath. Taking a few steps, and looking down the embankment towards the succubus who was currently on top of some prisoner. At first, this looked like a passionate kiss, but the man's reaction was completely unnatural. They were both fully clothed, with the succubus aggressively on top of him.

 

Why does shit always come in piles?! First that, now this?!

 

The man was shriveling up like a raisin, His skin was becoming more sallow. Rex was afraid to draw her attention, this was witnessing a murder. It was hard to tell if the man was fighting back, or trying to embrace her. When Rex saw the man's pointed ears, he felt conflicted. This didn't last long as he sensed something behind him. Turning quickly, he brandished his pick and saw a smaller version of the succubus he saw on the lake bed.

 

She was only a little shorter than Rex, she had black hair down to her shoulders. She was looking at him with curious orange eyes. She glanced at his arms closely, before giving a huff. She walked down to the lake bed, where the bigger succubus had finished her meal. The elf looked like a dried-out corpse and started to turn into dust. The part Rex found most macabre about his death, was that he still had an erection.

 

The fact he wasn't a prisoner kept saving him over and over. He needed to know why the succubi had such an obsession with him. If even the little kids are staring at him like he is a free meal, then he needed to do something to fix it. He'd rather they think him a pile of dung. The succubi chatted back and forth happily, but he couldn't hear what they were saying.

 

He didn't move until they both flew away. He then went down and filled his waterskin. Once finished he dived into the water, quickly scrubbing himself, clothes and all. He would need to make soap later, then he could get clean. Rising out of the lake, he looked to see the sun would soon be setting. He took up the waterskin before looking at the remains of the dead elf. The corpse had turned to dust as if it never existed.

 

Rex quickly snatched up his clothes, this cloth was very valuable to him. He shook out any of the remains and quickly started to make his way back. He began to panic the darker it got, finding his marks were getting harder. A breath of relief was not issued until he was standing before his tree. The safe mine was underneath, but for now, he would not get to enjoy it.

 

He made his way to his pottery area. The fire he had started before he left, had fully burnt down in the fire pit. Scooping the warm ashes up, and gathering them in the dead man's pants, was the best he could do. This ash would be used as a glaze for his pottery. He planned to mix it with dried clay and water, they had done this in his art class when he was a kid. It was when he was a kid the first time anyway. Rex tended to see himself as a short 35-year-old.

 

Using his trusty sticks, and some brush, he started a new fire. As it began to grow, he prepared the kiln to start. It was sealed, and the firebox was filled with fuel. He took a burning stick and pushed it into the firebox. Using the leftover branches to stoke his campfire, he used a rock to knock the pick head off the handle. Finding a long stick, he maneuvered the pick head into the fire, it was just getting dark.

 

“The darkness should cover the smoke, and now I can focus on making this pick into an ax head.” Rex positioned a flat rock to act as his anvil.

 

To cut branches, he was using a stone wrapped in his shirt. An ax would allow him to get better wood, it would also allow him to build with wood. He planned to slowly forge the ax head as he attended the kiln.

 

-

 

It had been a very sleepless night for Rex. He had struck the middle of the pick repeatedly, and eventually flattened it into an ax head. With just this campfire, getting it red was already a chore. Then he had to roughly shape the blade, and now he was about to snap off the rest of the pick from the center of the ax blade. Aligning up the edge of the blade against the side of a rock, he swung the rock in his other hand.

 

Snap!

 

He had fortunately not shattered the ax blade. It had left some excess material but he was fine with that. Standing up and stretching his stiff legs, he hobbled to the kiln. Using the ax head as a blade, he carved a doorway. He broke the doorway and began removing it in pieces, this would happen anytime he opened the kiln. 2 of the pots had not survived cooling, and shattered, they were too thin. 1 of them had broken into several big pieces. 3 of the pots had survived, he shattered the thinnest one.

 

Collecting these fragments, he added them to the ash he got earlier. Placing the pants between the rocks he used to flatten the pick. He made a fine powder by grinding it, mixing it with water to make a dark glaze. He glazed his two pots and put them back in the kiln. He quickly restarted another fire in the firebox.

 

Sitting heavily in front of his campfire, he began using a rough stone to grind away at his ax head.

 

-

 

The pots had come out black. They were going to be dark with the materials, but even he was surprised. Currently, he was watching a pot inside his campfire filled with boiling water. He was lethargic to the point he had to fight to not fall asleep. It was just now early morning, but once the water cooled enough to drink. He planned to drink some water, and then get some sleep.

 

He had 6 candidates for potential fruit sources, as they hadn't made him sick. Out of 24 candidates, 18 had been poisonous or questionable. For once he wasn't hungry, which was nice. If he woke up alive and well, he wouldn't need the exchange anymore. Being reliant on something so nebulous was a major setback to his survival.

 

The thought of chopping more firewood crossed his mind, then vanished when he realized how tired he was. The morning was the most dangerous time, as the prisoners were most active. Morning and afternoon were when the exchange was restocked.

 

The water had cooled to being just warm. Rex greedily began to chug, leaving behind half the water for when he awoke. He used some dirt to put out his campfire, carrying his two pots to the tree. Moving them down slowly one by one, and placing them carefully in his tunnel. By the time he reached the mausoleum room, he was having issues walking. He curled up on the floor, it was cleaner in here than the hallway.

 

He slowly closed his eyes drifting off to sleep.

 

-

 

Opening his eyes the first thing he did was check the hole in the ceiling.

 

“Afternoon, probably a little before 5 PM.” He said to himself.

 

The scenes from yesterday replayed in his mind. He took a drink of water as he calmly analyzed it.

 

The prisoners' point of view made sense to him. The succubi's behavior didn't make any sense to him at all. Looking at this island, and the way it was managed, a revolt was almost guaranteed. Something important felt like it was missing. The succubi were members of the demon faction. He assumed these were actual demons from the myths of his world, but his assumptions kept being wrong.

 

“This is like trying to assemble a puzzle upside down.” Rex mumbled to himself.

 

The issue was exactly that he couldn't grasp the bigger picture. A revolt was probably going to happen, all the pieces were in place already. He would need to pick a side to ensure his safety.

 

“I need to think this over carefully, and question the succubi at the exchange.” He decided firmly.

 

“Why?” He heard a young female voice ask.

 

Turning his head, Rex saw a little girl sitting in the corner. His breath caught, as he realized this was the young succubus he saw at the lake.

 

Has she been following me this whole time?!

 

His mind was racing, of course, he made sure he wasn't followed. This was of course assuming his followers walked on the ground.

 

“Why did you follow me?!” His voice had raised a pitch.

 

He felt like he was staring at a shark, in little girl form. Remembering how that elf got drained, left him horrified.

 

“Why not?” She answered as if that said it all.

 

She looked genuinely confused, it was enough to make Rex question if he was the crazy one.

 

Is this how a cow feels? When a human insists on petting it!

 

“How did you turn dirt into this?!” She was looking in excitement at one of the pots he made.

 

Rex felt like a life-saving straw had thrust itself in his little hands.

 

“You can have that pot, you should quickly take it home.” He said this as if it was something important.

 

“But I wanna know how you made it.” She started to protest.

 

“No, that pot can't wait!” Rex was pleading at this point. “You need to take that back with you! Show everybody!”

 

As long as you leave, I can run!

 

Tears were coming out of his eyes, he was so scared he didn't even know what he was saying. He was having to fight to stop himself from hyperventilating. He had always dreamed of having a daughter, but the image of that succubus killing that guy was too vivid in his mind. The two were overlapping as all of the succubi looked so similar.

 

“I understand.” She looked at him seriously, seeming to have gained something from his look.

 

She stood up quickly and ran out of the room with her pot. She even used her tail as a third hand to keep it safe.

 

Rex quickly replayed everything and realized he had said something really stupid. He almost wanted to sprint after the girl, as he went pale. Standing as quickly as he could, he found out sleeping on the ground had made his legs numb. He was hobbling down the hallway with tears running down his face. Everything had gone wrong since he had opened his eyes yesterday.

 

The little girl was long gone, but he couldn't stop this pointless chase.

 

I've ruined everything!

 

Who knew how the succubi would react to the pottery shenanigans, they had been the only neutral party to him so far. In both worlds, that had been the first time he saw someone die. That was the first time it was made real in his mind.

 

“It's like I lost my fucking virginity! HAHAHA!” Rex was hysterical.

 

Laughing was all he could do to keep from breaking down. It took almost a full minute to reach the tree roots he began climbing when he was forced to stop. Rushed movement and shouting could be heard.

 

“She came from over here! Parthos, can you sniff here out?” He heard a voice yell.

 

“All I can smell is s*&$!” He heard an angry roaring voice respond.

 

“I found some pants covered in ashes over here, you think she killed the hermit living here?” Another voice responded.

 

He held his breath as he saw the bush at the entrance to his tree shake.

 

“F%$#! I found his outhouse! Look! They just used all the leaves on this poor tree to wipe their @#!.” He heard a voice right in front of him yell out.

 

The person moved as if they couldn't wait to get away from the entrance to his mine. His disaster had come back to save his life.

 

The reason I am alive today is dysentery?!

 

This had almost caused Rex to faint, he wasn't sure if his luck was good or bad anymore.

 

The conclusion quickly turned to bad though, they weren't leaving.

 

“We should smash this weird stone oven thingy.” He heard a voice joke laughingly.

 

WHY!

 

-

Meanwhile, on a cliffside settlement set inside an inactive volcano. Among many little stone houses, a little girl was sprinting desperately.

 

“Look! Look, everyone! I have a jar... made of dirt!” The little girl sounded excited as she yelled at the top of her lungs.

 

She was holding her black pot proudly over her head. The light shining off the black glaze.

 

-

 

Why aren't they leaving yet!

 

He had been trapped, wrapping his body around this root for over an hour. They were too close for him to leave, but he also couldn't stay here. From the moment he got here it felt like he was constantly on a knife's edge. His only saving grace was that the first guy did not search thoroughly. The carefully crafted camouflage he had “placed” was serving its purpose.

 

The fact that he had to rely on this kind of accident, was killing the 35-year-old man in him. He direly wanted to exert some kind of control in this situation, but every minute that went by was making it worse.

 

“Hey look! They destroyed his oven! That was how he baked my pot like we do with the bread!” He heard an enraged little girl's voice.

 

Rex's already shallow breathing stopped in his throat...

 

It's over...