Angela stared at the strange otherworlder. He was still breathing, unconscious. They were back at the encampment, and she had to carry him all the way there. It wasn't difficult for her of course, just annoying.
The boy stank of vomit and monster blood. She was looking forward to a shower and a change of clothes as soon as possible.
She didn't usually go out of her way to save fresh new otherworlders from death, but there was something special about this one. With him, there was potential to discover a brand new [Perk]. And a powerful one, at that. Or more than one.
He could be her ticket out.
Lucky bastard.
She had to get to the bottom of it. Without Angela's [Identify], his health points were a mystery, as was the rest of his [Status]. She'd never heard of anything like it. So she'd called the cook over to see if there was anything they could do. There wasn't a [Healer] among them. For the time being, she had to find a way to keep him alive. Having him fight more mobs was out of the question.
"[Increase Appetite]," said Donna, standing beside her. The girl's eyes went wide. "Oh, you weren't kidding. It didn't go off. I can't target him."
As expected. Just like Angela's [Identify]. The skills wouldn't go off for some reason. They didn't even consume any mana.
"Just to check, I don't suppose you have any rare food that would be suitable for a [Level] 1?"
Donna shook her head.
There wasn't a single place in the world with a mana concentration that low. Even the weakest of foodstuffs they'd brought with them had to be at least [Level] 6. Their healing potion was far stronger. It was customary for the new arrivals to eat their own kills for the first several days. There was no other option.
"He'll have to make do with [Level] 2 food, then. Let's go," she said, then turned and left. Donna lingered for a moment longer, expression guilty, but followed after Angela.
She had work to do. The otherworlders were impatiently looking her way, eager. They needed their [Guide].
Without her, they'd all be dead in a week.
A fire crackled nearby.
Emm opened his eyes to find himself surrounded by fabric and furs on all sides. It took him a few seconds to realize that he was lying down inside a tent. The spartan space was tight, and even sitting up would make him bang the top of it with his head. It felt like a coffin.
It worked. I'm back at camp.
For a brief moment, his heart jumped for joy. But then he took stock of the situation. His whole body hurt, almost as bad as it had in the forest. He could barely move. A nasty headache still banged against his skull.
How much time has passed? Has the health regeneration slowed down?
Emm's mind was still cloudy, like in a dream. He wasn't dead, which was amazing, but apparently, he hadn't healed that much.
He found his salvation on the ground beside him. More burned snake.
Emm's mouth drooled at the sight. He grabbed it without a second thought and bit into the cold meat. It was dry and tough, but he didn't care. He ate.
The space inside the tent was uncomfortably hot. He ignored it, focusing only on eating as much as he could. He couldn't even feel the taste any longer, the insides of his mouth were completely burnt. There was no sign of nausea any longer: his body accepted its cure without protest.
He must have gone through an entire pound of meat before he felt full, shocking even himself. He'd always been a light eater.
Satisfied, he closed his eyes. Sleep claimed him in an instant.
He awoke again.
He ate again.
He slept again.
He awoke.
He ate more.
He slept.
The next time Emmanuel opened his eyes, it was dark outside. The fire still crackled.
He felt better. More importantly, his mind was finally clear. He was able to piece coherent thoughts together. He only remembered the previous times he'd woken up as a fever dream like he had been sleepwalking. But now, he was back to normal.
Emmanuel glanced down to see his shirt was off. His pants, too. He vaguely remembered the struggle to take his clothes off at a certain point, when the temperature of the air inside the tent became too much to handle. He ended up using them as a pillow to sleep on.
In fact, he still felt it was too hot. Way too hot. But most of the heat originated from inside him, he realized. From inside his stomach, more than anywhere else. An annoying, burning sensation. But it made sense to him. The monster he had eaten was magical, and he was feeling its healing effects.
Speaking of which. Emm glanced to the side and felt out with his hand. Bare spiky bones greeted his fingers. There was almost nothing left of the snake he had been chewing on the entire time. Nothing but the skeleton.
He'd stuffed all the meat inside of him.
The idea seemed impossible to Emm, but he knew it was true. He remembered it. And looking down at his bulging stomach confirmed it.
And paradoxically, he still felt like he could eat more. He had to eat more, it wasn't even a choice. His health was unlikely to be at 100%, and it would keep rapidly declining as long as he didn't eat.
The inside of the tent reeked so badly that Emm had to double-check that he didn't have an accident while asleep.
He pulled his clothes on and crawled outside on his knees. There was nobody around the fire. He hoped Michael was doing okay.
The cool air felt heavenly on his sweaty skin. He drank it in, hoping to battle the heat within him. Had he eaten too much? The sensation was almost painful, now that he focused on it. It was unlike anything he ever felt before. It made him feel jittery.
The bright moon shone in the sky and combination with a few campfires helped illuminate the night. There were three other tents close to Emm's, with a dying fire in the middle. Other fires had clusters of tents surrounding them as well.
Emm wondered if they all had people inside, but he wasn't going to shove his head in to check. Best not to wake anybody up.
Emm stood up and stretched. His leg wound was healed, too. Moving around felt good. He found his spear leaning against his tent and picked it up. Absentmindedly, he stoked the campfire and fed it one of the logs stacked next to it. There was a cooked snake stuck on a stick, but Emm only ripped off a small chunk, deciding to leave the rest for later.
Munching on the piece of snake jerky, Emm leisurely sneaked away into the darkness to get away from the sleeping people. Far enough not to make too much noise, but close enough to the light that he still felt safe and could more-or-less see. The night air was even cooler away from the fire.
There wasn't much for him to do. Going back to sleep was impossible, he felt wide awake. All the shops and stands were closed, there was nobody to talk to. And there was no chance in hell Emm was going out by himself to fight new monsters in the dark.
He had to get stronger, and there was one main way he could think of, to start.
Emm got down on his hands and started doing pushups. After ten he slowed down, and after twenty he still had a few in him. That was how much he usually did back home. But here, Emm pushed himself further. He kept going, only stopping after he reached thirty, arms burning in pain.
He collapsed onto the cold grass, panting for breath.
This world had its advantages after all. If he could eat his way back to 100% health, he didn't have to worry about pushing his body over its limits. He could recover faster than back on Earth. All it took was chewing through a monster or two. Not two or three days of hurting all over.
Next, he did jumping jacks. Then came the squats.
The simple, repetitive motions helped Emm clear his mind. He just focused on the motions, trying to keep his form right and breathe properly. Whenever he got too tired to continue, he changed up the exercise to target another part of his body. After squats, he did sit-ups.
His breath fogged in the chilly air. Slowly, Emm felt the uncomfortable heat inside his stomach start to lessen.
He kept going. More pushups, more squats, more sit-ups. He hadn't worked out regularly back on Earth, so he only knew how to do a few of the simplest exercises. No one-arm handstands, or reverse-cowgirl back crunches, or whatever.
When the routine got too boring, he picked up his spear.
He thrust it forward, again and again, stabbing at imaginary foes. He knew he had to ingrain the moves into his muscle memory. Like with anything in life, practice makes perfect. Repeating the same movement ten thousand times was bound to make him a better fighter.
Emm got into a rhythm of things and tested different variations of the moves, slightly changing up his form to see what was most efficient.
Breathe in, breathe out. Step forward, swing, step backward.
He was dripping with sweat, and smelled like crap, but didn't care. He focused only on the motions. The breathing. He pushed himself far beyond his normal limits, but he still felt energized. The fire inside his chest had spread throughout his whole body. He kept swinging.
And before he knew it, the night sky had brightened. It was almost daylight.
Emm noticed Miss Simmons looking at him from across the clearing. Their gazes met.
She started walking in his direction.
