I picked up the rabbit meat and turned back toward the village, triumphant, sweaty, and possibly covered in rabbit hair. The sun hung low behind the trees, painting the sky with streaks of orange and purple one of those beautiful scenes you'd usually appreciate, if your stomach wasn't trying to chew its way through your spine.
That's when it hit me. A deep, animal noise ripped from my belly so loud I almost dropped the rabbit. I stopped dead, clutching my gut.
"Urrrggghhh."
If hunger could kill, I'd have died three times on the spot.
I looked down at the charred meat in my hands, drool already forming at the corner of my mouth. I hadn't eaten in… gods, days? Maybe longer? My parents had this philosophy: "If you're not magic, you don't need calories." I had begun to fantasize about meteorites falling from the sky and flattening their dinner table. Or at least catching them in the act of biting into a rotten turnip.
[Host's hunger levels: Critical. Emergency Snacking Protocol recommended.]
"You don't say," I grumbled. "Any chance you could drop a meteorite on my family while you're at it?"
[Regretfully, meteorite summoning is not in your skillset. Yet.]
I laughed a real, delighted sound. "You said 'yet'. I like the sound of that."
[Let's focus on survival, chef. I'll help you find a safe spot to cook your hard-earned dinner. No monsters. No witnesses. No siblings with chronic inferiority complexes.]
A blue arrow shimmered on the edge of my vision, pointing toward a thicket of birch trees off the main trail. I followed it, careful not to trip over roots or walk straight into the kind of bush that left scratches only your worst enemy could appreciate.
Soon, I found a cozy hollow between two mossy stones, hidden from the trail and the eyes of the universe. No howling wolves. No enraged bears. Just the breeze, the fading sunlight, and the intoxicating promise of a meal.
"All right, Gordon Ramsay," I muttered to myself, "let's see if I can make burnt rabbit taste like heaven."
I gathered what dry sticks and twigs I could find, hands shaking from hunger and excitement. Fire magic was tempting, but with only a few MP to spare, I did it the old-fashioned way stones, sparks, and stubbornness.
A tiny flame flared up, and I fed it with careful pride until it roared gently beneath my makeshift spit. I speared the rabbit, held it over the fire, and watched fat sizzle off the meat.
My stomach growled so loud, I was worried it would scare off the moon.
Then, as if reading my most secret culinary wishes, the system pinged:
[Special Reward: Spice Pack Unlocked!][Host's efforts have triggered a rare drop: Basic Forest Spices. Use them wisely.]
I stared at my hand as a tiny pouch appeared out of nowhere, filled with little flecks of herbs and salt.
"…You can just conjure spices?"
[Sometimes. I'm nothing if not generous.]
"Oh, you beautiful algorithmic nightmare. I love you."
[Save your affection for after you taste the rabbit.]
Grinning, I sprinkled the spices over the sizzling meat, savoring the scent of something actually edible. I waited, flipping the meat every so often, until the skin crackled and the air was thick with the promise of salvation.
Finally, I took a cautious bite.
The world stopped. The forest faded. For the first time in what felt like centuries, something good was happening to me.
The meat was smoky and tender, the skin crispy, the spices exploding with flavor. It wasn't just food it was proof that the universe sometimes throws you a bone, even if it's attached to a slightly overcooked rabbit.
I devoured the meal, barely stopping to breathe. Grease ran down my chin. My eyes watered from happiness or maybe sheer relief.
When I finally finished, I flopped back against the mossy stone and sighed in satisfaction.
"I can't believe it," I said softly. "Best meal of my life. I should have been exiled to the woods years ago."
[Correction: You earned that meal yourself. Not me, not magic just you. That's what matters.]
I blinked. "You're really good at this whole motivational speech thing, you know."
[Comes with the software update.]
We both fell silent for a moment. I watched the sky deepen from orange to violet, the stars flickering into life. For a fleeting moment, I felt… safe. Like maybe, just maybe, things could change. Maybe I could become strong enough to build my own peace, to carve a place where nobody could hurt me again.
And, of course, strong enough to destroy my horrible family and dance on their metaphorical graves. But one step at a time.
The sun slipped behind the trees, painting the world with shadows. It was time to head back.
The journey home took about half an hour. The night air was cool against my skin. The village looked calm, almost sleepy. Windows glowed with yellow lamplight. Dogs barked in the distance, children's laughter fading with the daylight. Not a monster or a disaster in sight.
I steeled myself and slipped through the back gate, skirting the vegetable patch and entering the house as quietly as a satisfied thief.
Inside, the aroma of stew and fresh bread hung thick in the air. I paused in the entryway.
There they were: my parents and Riven, sitting around the dinner table, their faces frozen in the eternal scowl of "We Hate Our Useless Daughter." Their plates were piled high with food roast vegetables, golden bread, thick stew. It smelled heavenly and made me glad I'd already eaten, or I might have tackled someone.
Then I noticed something new.
My mother was wearing… well, it was technically a wig. But "wig" is generous. It looked more like she'd lost a fight with a rabid squirrel and glued the remains to her head. The color didn't match her eyebrows. The curls stood at random angles, like she'd angered a hair deity. I almost burst out laughing on the spot.
All three of them glared at me as I walked in. I glared right back, suppressing a smirk.
For once, no one said a word. Not a single insult, not a single order. Just silent, frosty contempt. Riven twirled his fork like he was stabbing a mortal enemy. My father shot me a look that said, "Die quietly." My mother adjusted her wig and pretended nothing had happened.
I considered offering her my condolences for the tragic hair loss, but decided to save that for a special occasion.
Instead, I headed straight for my room, ignoring the psychic daggers they tried to plant in my back.
My room was as welcoming as ever a tiny box of shadows, leftover schoolbooks, and the faint scent of soap from my earlier victory shower. I flopped onto my lumpy bed, let the exhaustion hit me, and let my mind wander.
For once, I wasn't hungry. I wasn't defeated. I wasn't even angry. I was… okay. Almost.
A soft chime rang out.
[New Feature Unlocked: Daily Quests]
A sparkling blue window unfurled above my head.
[Daily Quests are simple tasks you can complete each day for rewards and experience. Complete them all for a bonus. Examples include:
Walk 1,000 steps
Practice magic for 5 minutes
Find something that makes you laugh
Eat a full meal
Insult Riven creatively]
I stared, jaw dropping. "Are you kidding? That last one is an official quest?"
[I call it character building.]
I laughed so hard I almost rolled off the bed. It felt good. Like something inside me was being fixed, one laugh, one meal, one small victory at a time.
"Tomorrow, I'll do all the quests," I promised the ceiling. "And I'll do them better than anyone expects."
[That's the spirit, Host. Now get some sleep. You've got worlds to conquer and idiots to outlive.]