After a sumptuous meal, Jordan retrieved the rabbit hide he had left to dry two days ago. It was stiff but pliable enough for his purpose. His plan was simple: to create a more comfortable pillow by stuffing the hide with dry grass.
He gathered a handful of dry grass from the area near his shelter, selecting the softest and most abundant patches he could find. Once he had enough, he sat by the fire and began his work.
Using his knife, he carefully trimmed the edges of the hide, removing any rough or uneven patches. He folded the hide into a pouch-like shape and secured the edges with thin strips of bark he had gathered earlier, tying them tightly to ensure the grass wouldn't spill out.
Once the makeshift pouch was ready, he stuffed it generously with the dry grass, pressing it down to make it firm but still soft enough for comfort. He tested it by pressing his hand against the surface—it was far better than using his arm or the cold, hard ground as a pillow.
Satisfied with his work, Jordan placed the finished pillow inside his shelter. It wasn't luxurious, but it was another small step toward making his camp more livable. Survival was about the little victories, and this was one he could appreciate.
With the afternoon sun still high, he decided to spend some time reinforcing his shelter and preparing for the night ahead. The forest was unpredictable, and he needed to stay ready for whatever came his way.
With his new found strength he cleared some of the logs and stones that didn't provide a good hiding place.He had left them because he couldn't move them,but now that was different.
With his newfound strength, Jordan turned his attention to improving the area surrounding his shelter. He started by clearing out the logs and stones that previously had been too heavy for him to move. Before, they had been obstacles or potential hiding places for predators, but now they were just challenges he could easily handle.
He approached the first log, a hefty, moss-covered piece of wood that had been lying near his camp for days. Squatting down, he tested its weight, then lifted it with surprising ease. "Definitely different," he muttered, carrying it a short distance away and rolling it into a cluster of trees, far enough from his shelter to be of no concern.
Next were the stones. Some were jagged and awkwardly shaped, others smooth but deceptively heavy. With a mix of pushing and carrying, he managed to clear them all, stacking them in a loose pile that he thought might be useful later for building or defense.
The clearing began to look more open and secure. Without the clutter of stones and logs, Jordan could see further around his camp, giving him better awareness of his surroundings. It felt safer, less like he was boxed in.
The work was physically demanding but satisfying. As he wiped the sweat from his brow, he glanced at the now-open space and felt a sense of accomplishment. With his improved strength, tasks that once seemed impossible were now manageable, and each change he made brought him closer to having a truly defensible and functional camp.
"One step at a time," he said to himself, surveying the cleared area. It wasn't just about survival anymore—it was about thriving, adapting, and making this place his own.
Next were the skull he had placed beside the fire pit. With his knife he cut of the part that could hold liquid and with one strong throw the rest went flying. He then went to the river and rinsed them thoroughly.Now he had two small bowls. He realized that his knife was extremely sharp as it sunk through the skulls with no resistance.
Next, Jordan turned his attention to the skulls he had placed beside the fire pit. The bone had dried well over the past two days, making them easier to work with. Taking his knife, he positioned the first skull carefully and, with a steady grip, began cutting away the top portion to create a hollow container.
To his surprise, the knife sliced through the bone effortlessly, as if it were cutting through soft wood. He paused for a moment, admiring the blade. "This thing is sharper than I thought," he muttered. The carvings on the knife glinted faintly in the sunlight, almost as if it were alive.
Within minutes, the first skull was shaped into a crude bowl. With one strong throw, he sent the remaining unusable piece flying into the trees. Moving on to the second skull, the process was even faster now that he knew what he was doing. Each cut was precise, the blade sinking into the bone with no resistance whatsoever.
Satisfied with his work, he took the two makeshift bowls down to the river. The cold water rushed over his hands as he rinsed them thoroughly, removing any lingering dirt or debris. When he was done, he held them up, inspecting his handiwork. They weren't perfect, but they were sturdy and functional—exactly what he needed.
He placed the bowls near his shelter, a sense of accomplishment washing over him. With tools like these, life here would be just a bit more manageable.
Jordan held the rabbit and slime cores in his hand, studying them for a moment before slipping them into the knife's slots. He was familiar with the process by now—placing the cores into the carved openings and waiting for the knife to absorb their energy.
However, something strange happened this time. While the rabbit core was absorbed almost instantly, the final slime core lingered in the slot. It pulsed faintly, as though the knife was holding onto it but hadn't fully integrated its energy.
Jordan frowned, tapping the edge of the knife lightly against his palm. "What's going on now?" he muttered. The last few times, the knife had upgraded as soon as it absorbed enough cores. But this time, nothing changed.
As he sat by the fire, turning the knife over in his hands, a theory began to form in his mind. "What if... the knife needs more cores now?" he wondered aloud. "Maybe the further it upgrades, the more energy it requires."
It made sense in a way. The knife's power had grown significantly with each upgrade, and something so potent wouldn't evolve without increasing demands. If his theory was correct, then each tier of the knife's evolution would require three times as many cores as the previous one.
"That would mean I need... nine cores this time," he calculated. He glanced at the knife, its carvings faintly glowing as if confirming his thoughts.
Though the realization was a bit daunting, it didn't discourage him. If anything, it added another layer of excitement to his journey. Hunting down more cores would not only strengthen his weapon but also push him to face tougher monsters, sharpening his own skills along the way.
"Guess I better start collecting," he said to himself with a determined smirk. "Looks like I've got a lot of work to do."