Rivan scowled at his own thoughts. "Tch, what a drag," he muttered, tossing a few more leaves into the sad, flickering excuse of a fire. Yeah, because nothing screams 'warmth and survival' like burning foliage, right? He moved carefully, cradling his leg like it was his firstborn, which, in a way, it kind of was since it was bleeding all over the place.
After finding a cozy spot—not that anything about this godforsaken jungle was cozy—he wrapped himself in more leaves like some kind of weird burrito and stared up at the algae-covered roots above. "Mother Nature's interior design is severely lacking," he mumbled before drifting off into sleep.
ROAR!
Well, hello there, heart attack! The deafening roar shook him awake. "Ugh, what a great alarm—because nothing says 'good morning' like being reminded you could be breakfast. Ahh… ouch!" Rivan groaned, rubbing his eyes.
He threw more leaves onto the fire, which was barely holding on for dear life. "Don't you die on me, fire. You're all I've got, you beautiful, blazing dumpster fire of hope." He sighed, thankful he wouldn't have to relive the classic 'rubbing stones together like a caveman' scene.
His gaze wandered down to his leg, the wound now resembling something you'd find in an art gallery under "Biohazard Chic."
"Oh my God! It's like a tattoo... only it's natural and horrifying. Who needs a tattoo artist when you've got pus and blood and veins doing their own thing?!" The injury was bad—swollen, full of pus, with veins doing the 'Violet Beauregarde' thing. "Well, at least it's not poisonous. Probably. Maybe. Eh, I'll let Future deal with that one." He shrugged. "Whatever was under those leaves, I am definetly not going back there. Curiosity kills the cat, right? Good thing I'm more of a dog person anyway. Also, not a certified researcher, thank you very much. I was more of a 'barely-showed-up-to-class' kind of guy."
Pushing himself up with a wince that only a truly stubborn idiot would ignore, Rivan scanned the area. His eyes zeroed in on a sad little fallen branch. "Perfect! Well, okay, perfect is overselling it, but hey, it's not like I have any options here, you make do with what you've got!" Limping toward it like some kind of undead pirate, he snatched up the branch and a nearby rock. "Tch... seriously?" he groaned, noticing his ankle was now leaving a trail of pus and blood like some gross breadcrumb trail.
He hobbled over to the tiny puddle of water that was more algae than actual hydration, and then it hit him. "Oh crap… yeah, maybe cleaning my wound with swamp water wasn't my brightest idea." He stared at his leg for a moment. "It's fine, totally fine. I'm not gonna have to cut it off, right? Right. What the hell am I even thinking?!" He shivered, trying to shake off that particularly dark train of thought.
Plopping down by the fire like an exhausted chad should, he grabbed a massive leaf, warming it over the fire before carefully pressing it to his wound. "I swear, if someone's filming this for a nature documentary, I better get a cut of the royalties." After a few moments of self-care, he sighed. "I guess I can't just sit here giving myself a spa day all night. Focus, Rivan, focus!"
Grabbing the oversized branch, which was definitely too thick for a spear but hey, desperate times, he muttered, "We'll make do."
With that, he mentally braced himself and started hammering the stone against the branch, carefully shaping it into a point. Time passed without him noticing, his intense concentration making the hours slip by.
The setting sun cast a golden hue across the jungle, but Rivan was too absorbed in his task to care. Finally, his efforts paid off as a barely passable spear took shape. "Ha... ha... ha... it's done. Behold! Be born, Gungnir!"
Panting heavily, he stood up, proud of himself—"Ouch... aaagh, dammit!Stupid spear... stupid leg... stupid... life choices. Why does making cool stuff always come with pain?"—only to collapse, clutching his injured leg and rolling on the ground in pain.
Work had made him forget all about his injury. Once the pain subsided, he lay on the ground, staring upward with a hint of disdain. Instead of the beautiful sky, there were algae-covered roots hanging overhead. "What a glorious view. I'm really living the dream here. Soak it in, Rivan. You've peaked."
Growl... growl...
His stomach rumbled, snapping his attention back to the fact that he hadn't eaten anything. Ding!
[Strong wooden spear created]
[Innate ability: Concentration strengthened]
[Intelligence increased by 1]
[Strength increased by... Ooh!]
"Oh my god! My hunger's really messing with me now—I'm starting to hear voices!" he groaned. "How the hell did I forget to eat? Oh yeah, that crappy fruit from earlier wasn't exactly memorable. It's no wonder I forgot dinner too..."
Suddenly, the memory of the squirrel he'd spotted before passing out flashed through his mind. He looked down at his spear, then scratched his head and picked it up. "Well... guess it's time for a test drive."
Despite his injury, Rivan began limping toward a tree about a kilometer away. But what's a kilometer to someone in search of food? Humans have crossed continents for less. His leg throbbed, but the sight—and stench—of the rotting fruit littering the ground around him gave him all the motivation he needed not to eat them.
ROAR!
That same terrifying roar echoed through the forest, freezing him in his tracks. Shivering, Rivan limped back to where he'd started, collapsing with a sigh. "What's wrong with me? How could I even think about killing such a cute little creature just to fill my stomach? No, I'm better than that," he said firmly.
He picked up a nearby fruit, wiping the dust and grime off of it, resigned to his less-than-ideal meal.