Jericho carried his crude fishing rod to the edge of the stream.
"Alright, pretty. Time to earn your keep."
He cast the line. It landed with a weak plop that felt more like a splash from a thrown spoon than a dramatic survival move.
Ten minutes passed. Nothing.
Fifteen minutes. Still nothing.
At thirty, the twig snapped. The line tangled. The hook caught a floating leaf.
Jericho groaned and began repairs, mumbling every curse he could remember from Earth and a few new ones this world had inspired. He replaced the stick with a straighter one, tied the line tighter, and reinforced the hook with a bit of bark.
Then he tried again.
And again, and again...
The sun crawled through the sky. His stomach was eating itself. His arms felt like noodles.
Finally, after what felt like hours, the line tugged hard.
Jericho yanked back with every ounce of his soul, and out flew a squirming, ugly, glorious fish.
He fell backward as it smacked into his chest.
"YES! HA! IN YOUR FACE, NATURE!"
It wasn't huge. Honestly, it was kind of pathetic. But it was a fish. Real, edible, and it was his.
He left the rod in the stream, propped between two rocks, and got to work.
[Wild Fish Cooking: Level 1]
Scale the fish with a flat stone.
Gut it with a sharp twig.
Rinse it in the stream.
Salt? Nope. Seasoning? Dream on.
Skewer it on a sharpened stick.
Roast it over a small fire, rotate slowly.
Try not to cry while it burns on one side.
The result:
[Item Created: Poorly Cooked Stream Fish]
Quality: Basic
Effects: Restores 10 HP, 5 Stamina
Buff: None
Taste: Questionable
[+1 Stat Point Earned in Cooking]
Jericho stared at the panel, then at the fish, then grinned.
"Good, exactly like in the game. Cooking improves with use, and better cooking gives better buffs. This system is perfect."
He nodded, making a mental note.
"Craft, cook, build, level it all. The more I use it, the more I grow. This is grindable."
He sat by the stream, chewing on his hard-earned victory. The taste wasn't exactly gourmet, but hunger had a way of turning burnt fish into divine cuisine.
Mid-bite, his rod bounced.
Another fish.
By the afternoon, Jericho had an entire pile of fish wrapped in large leaves, stacked beside a fire. He'd repaired his rod four times, adjusting the design each time until finally, he had something almost passable.
[Item Created: Reinforced Stream Rod]
Quality: Common
Durability: 20/20
Effectiveness: 35%
Notes: Still ugly, but it works.
Jericho held it like a prize.
"Not bad... for a guy who never touched grass before yesterday."
He leaned back, satisfied.
Today, he didn't win the world, but he beat hunger and that was enough.
Jericho sat cross-legged beside his fish pile, licking grease off his fingers while scrolling through his Alchemia panel.
Two new stat points.
He grinned.
"Now, let's see..."
His first instinct was to drop both points into Luck; it had the potential to be the strongest stat. But he paused.
The sky was starting to darken and the wind was picking up.
The memory of last night, cold, soaked, curled under wet leaves like a raccoon, came back with a shiver.
"Yeah, no thanks. I'm not sleeping under the moon again."
If he wanted proper shelter, he'd need stamina to work through the fatigue and strength to carry and break heavier branches. Luck could wait.
"Alright. One point to Strength, one to Stamina. Let's build a shack so I don't wake up cuddling a rock again."
Stat Points Distributed:
Strength: 6
Stamina: 4
He started with basic tools: tied a sharpened stone to a stick for a crude hammer, snapped branches with his foot for framework, and tried to shape vines into rope.
The result? A disaster.
His tent frame collapsed. Twice. A gust of wind blew away his leaf roofing.
He accidentally built on a slope, rolled downhill in his sleep, and spent most of the night muttering revenge oaths against gravity.
But thanks to the small buff from his fish, he had enough stamina to keep working.
By the next evening, the structure stood.
At least, barely.
It wasn't elegant, it wasn't dry, but it didn't fall apart.
Along the way, he managed to carve out a few basic survival tools.
[Item Created: Crude Camp Shelter]
Quality: Poor
Durability: 15/30
Comfort: Low
Buffs: Slight HP/Stamina regen when resting
[Item Created: Stone Dagger]
Quality: Basic
Attack: 4
Durability: 10/10
Notes: Good for skinning fish. Not great for stabbing monsters.
[Item Created: Wooden Arrow]
Quality: Poor
Accuracy Modifier: -10%
Durability: 1/1 (Single-use)
Notes: Will probably break on impact, but hey, it's pointy.
[Crafting Skill Leveled Up: Lv. 2][Toolmaking Skill Leveled Up: Lv. 2][Building Skill Leveled Up: Lv. 2]
Jericho collapsed into his crooked little hut with a contented groan.
"It's not much," he muttered, staring at the twisted ceiling of branches and moss.
"But it's mine. I'm really starting to enjoy this new life."
Days passed.
Each one a cycle of struggle, sweat, and sawdust.
Jericho rose at dawn, fished at the stream with his awkward rod, crafted half-functional tools from twigs and stones, cooked meals with inconsistent taste and questionable texture, and slowly, painfully upgraded his camp.
Most of the stuff he made looked like junk. He had a ladle carved from a bent chunk of bark, a coat rack made of a forked stick tied to a rock, and a pot stand assembled with three uneven legs, one shorter than the rest, so it wobbled like a drunk duck.
But he never stopped.
Because every time he created, the system rewarded him.
More creation = more skill = better results.
The evolution wasn't fast, but it was steady.
Each day, the output got a little cleaner, the durability higher, the stats sharper.
He demolished his first crooked shelter and replaced it with a sturdier hut, supported by carved logs and sealed with thick leaves and mud. It even had a doorway.
[Item Created: Basic Camp Shelter - Mk. II]
Quality: Common
Durability: 28/40
Buffs: Slight HP/Stamina regen, +1 Mood Recovery, -10% Sickness Risk
He'd built a tiny dining spot (aka: flat stone + stump bench), a hanging line for drying fish, a windbreak, and even a fire-protected food storage hole.
He set up traps near the camp edge, just simple rope snares, baited with spoiled fish. So far, all they caught was a grumpy squirrel, which he released because it was his recurring neighbor.
That morning, sweat streamed down his back as he hacked away at a thick log.
The axe was a crude, heavy blade lashed to a wooden handle, but it worked eventually.
Each swing sent pain up his arms, but he didn't stop.
Swing. Slam. Groan.
Until finally... CRACK.
The log was split in half.
Jericho threw his arms up with a victorious roar.
"YES! First step to a working toilet, baby!"
He dropped the axe and collapsed onto a log, pulling out a charred chunk of grilled cuttlefish from a leaf pouch.
[Item Consumed: Roasted Cuttlefish Skewer]
Quality: Low
Effect: +5 Stamina, +2 Strength (Temporary)
Taste: Chewy, smoky, not awful
He chewed with gusto, then stood, cracking his knuckles.
"Alright, it's time."
He walked through the trees, following a familiar path.
At the center of a rocky clearing, nestled between stones and fed by a controlled flow of air funneled with split logs and flat bark panels, a small forge-like fire blazed. It wasn't elegant, but it was hot enough.
Jericho crouched beside it.
Balanced carefully over the flames was a blade-shaped piece of glowing metal.
His masterpiece.
The forge was crude, fueled by charcoal from dried logs and fan-fed by a makeshift bellows, a hollowed gourd with flaps. But it was enough to shape a weapon.
He'd scoured the western stream for a material called Rivershard Ore, a low-grade but enchantment-friendly metal found in damp regions.
It was easy to smelt and didn't require fancy alloys.
Now, he would craft a proper weapon.
He pulled the metal carefully from the flames, laid it on his anvil-stone, and started hammering.
Sparks flew.
He worked the blade slowly. Formed the shape, trimmed the edge. Sweat rolled down his face. His arms ached from the morning's logging, but this?
This was different; this was important.
As he shaped the fuller, he inhaled, raised his hand, and poured a thin thread of magic into the hot steel.
His body tingled.
Enchanting Initiated.
Magic pulsed through the forge, through him, into the sword. He focused, not on raw power but on concept. What did this weapon mean?
Precision. Clean cuts. The Will to Survive.
His mana trickled in, weaving itself into the metal like invisible ink.
The final strikes echoed through the forest.
Then silence.
Jericho dropped to all fours, panting like he'd sprinted up a mountain.
"Why... is this worse... than tree chopping..."
Above the forge, the sword shimmered.
He stood slowly, staring as the system confirmed it.
[Item Created: Ironblade]
Quality: common
Attack: 12
Durability: 45/45
Enchantment: Glide Cut – 15% chance to ignore defense and cut without resistance.
Notes: Forged with determination and desperation. The first step toward survival with style.
Jericho smiled through the pain.