Caesar gripped the sharp stone he had just used to smash that strange creature and stumbled toward a few nearby rocks. His body hadn't fully recovered, and he was barely steady on his feet. He needed a weapon in his hand. That bizarre creature, with its unnaturally large pincer, had left a deep impression—both mentally and physically—on his arm.
Looking around, the sharp stone he'd just used was the only thing that could qualify as a weapon. Technically, Caesar had another weapon—a short dagger hidden in his boot—but he wasn't confident it could pierce the creature's hard shell.
The rocks around him didn't disappoint. As Caesar overturned one, he spotted two of those strange creatures stacked on top of each other, spitting out grayish bubbles. The pale gray creatures had been sheltering from the sun under the rock and were startled by the sudden light and Caesar's looming presence. Their eight legs flailed frantically, and one of them raised its disproportionate pincer threateningly toward Caesar.
With experience on his side, Caesar avoided the raised pincer and brought the sharp stone down hard. Bang! Bang! Bang! After a few heavy strikes, the two grayish creatures were reduced to flattened meat patties.
Caesar dropped to the ground, panting. Ignoring the disgust, he reached for the two crushed creatures and began to eat them with his fingers. The half-creature he had eaten earlier wasn't nearly enough to fill his stomach; these two came just in time.
Eating raw food was unpleasant, but Caesar devoured the meat eagerly. Unlike other insects, these creatures didn't have a sour or foul taste. Apart from a slightly astringent flavor, they were relatively tolerable. Compared to the stale black bread from the camp, these tasted far better—or maybe Caesar was just so hungry that anything would have tasted good.
After devouring the two creatures in just a few bites, Caesar carefully collected their shells, pincers, and legs. Their hardness suggested they might be useful later. Plus, Caesar had learned from years of war that leaving food scraps or traces of blood in the wild was unwise. He didn't know what threats lurked nearby, and carelessness could be fatal. Thankfully, Caesar ate cleanly, leaving little behind except the inedible parts.
Since training in fighting energy, Caesar had become more attuned to the sensations in his body. Right now, he could clearly feel the food reaching his stomach, where the faint strands of fighting energy gathered to aid digestion. These wisps were too weak for him to control, but at least they functioned on their own without requiring his attention.
Feeling a slight return of strength, Caesar glanced at the still-unconscious Angelina, then down at his ragged, tattered clothing. He sighed. "I need to find shelter soon."
The jungle at night was dangerous. Even with some of his strength restored, Caesar was still covered in wounds. A single wild coyote could easily finish him off in his current state.
Caesar scanned the surroundings and noticed that one side of the lake was bordered by a cliff. There was a small recess in the rock face—not very spacious, but enough for two people to lie down. He carefully inspected the spot to ensure there were no hidden threats, then ventured into the nearby woods to gather dry branches and leaves. Though most of the trees were evergreen, some were already in their autumn decay, making it easy for him to collect a large bundle.
Caesar removed his broken half-armor. It was too damaged to offer protection, but the leather straps, remaining iron plates, and cloth strips could still serve a purpose. In Caesar's eyes, repurposing them was far more useful than leaving them hanging uselessly on his body.
He piled the branches into a makeshift fire pit. He hadn't been fooled by the surrounding greenery—he knew it was late autumn. Without a fire, even the strongest body couldn't fend off illness from the night cold. And out here in the wilderness, illness equaled death—especially for someone already wounded like Caesar.
In addition to the firewood, Caesar gathered patches of grass from nearby. There wasn't enough fabric to make bedding, so grass would have to do. Unfortunately, most of the grass in the area was short and sparse. It took him a long time to gather enough to create two rough sleeping mats. As for blankets, Caesar glanced at his torn shirt and pants with a grimace.
By dusk, the sun had already dipped behind the trees and cliffs. The jungle quickly turned dark, and the chill of late autumn crept in. Fortunately, Caesar had prepared in advance. He planted a sturdy stick into the fire pit, wrapped two leather straps from his armor around its ends, and gripped them tightly with both hands. With a quick pull, the stick spun rapidly, generating friction. The pine branches he had chosen, rich in resin, caught fire almost immediately.
A warm flame crackled to life in the dim twilight.
It had been a long time since Caesar had used such a primitive method to start a fire, but thankfully, he hadn't lost his touch. The flames on the dry branches gradually grew stronger, and Caesar quickly added a few more sticks to keep the fire going.
Before nightfall completely took over, Caesar went to the sandy shore of the lake and overturned a few stones. Bang! Bang! Bang! With his growing experience, he managed to find four more of those grayish creatures. Carrying two in each hand, he hurried back—this was currently his only reliable source of both water and energy.
Without a pot or the patience to build a roasting rack, Caesar wrapped the four strange creatures in mud and tossed them directly into the fire.
After finishing his preparations, Caesar checked on Angelina again. He had carried her to this makeshift cave, though calling it a "cave" was generous—it was merely a small recess in the cliffside, offering little more than shelter from the night wind. But given their circumstances, Caesar was already grateful for this meager refuge.
Angelina still hadn't woken up. If she hadn't unconsciously eaten something at noon, Caesar might have doubted whether she could ever wake again. The memory of Angelina sucking on his finger earlier brought a flush to Caesar's face, and he quickly banished the thought.
She's a princess… she's a princess… Caesar repeated to himself.
Taking off his upper garments, Caesar began inspecting his injuries. His chest and back were covered in scratches, likely from hitting rocks during their fall. His arm bore several cuts, most of them shallow, except for one—the deep wound from the gray creature's pincer, nearly half an inch deep.
"Those little things pack quite a bite," Caesar muttered, though he had to admit they tasted decent.
As most of his wounds had already scabbed over, removing his shirt was a painful ordeal. The dried blood stuck to the fabric, and peeling it off reopened several wounds, causing fresh blood to seep out. Grimacing, Caesar used the shirt to wipe away the blood.
He then picked up one of the collected creature's legs, using the tip of his boot-hidden dagger to pierce a hole through it. Threading a strip of linen he had salvaged from his broken armor through the hole, Caesar fashioned a crude needle.
The wound from the pincer was too deep—it needed stitches. An infection here could mean death. On the battlefield, soldiers often stitched their own wounds before marching back into combat.
Though Caesar had stitched his own wounds countless times, the pain still made him wince and grit his teeth. After tying a tight knot at the end, he stretched his arm experimentally—it held firm.
By the time he had packed away his makeshift needle and thread, the firepit was releasing an enticing aroma. Using a stick, Caesar poked the roasted creatures out of the embers. With a few quick blows of air and a light punch, the charred shell cracked open with a snap, revealing tender white meat inside.
Caesar inhaled deeply, savoring the rich smell, then dug in. The roasted meat reminded him of chicken, and after devouring three of them, he finally felt somewhat full.
Just three of these fist-sized creatures and I'm already full? Caesar mused. His appetite seemed to have shrunk considerably.
The last creature was still warm in his hand as Caesar walked over to Angelina. The roasted aroma still lingered in the air, but Angelina showed no signs of waking. Her severe mental exhaustion would require a long rest to recover.
Caesar frowned. How am I supposed to feed her if she won't wake up? Eating raw meat once was tolerable, but repeated consumption would surely lead to stomach trouble.
Just as Caesar was scratching his head, Angelina's stomach let out a faint gurgle. Despite her unconsciousness, her body was honest about its hunger.
Looking at her delicate face and soft lips, Caesar suddenly thought of a way.
After feeding her, Caesar quickly left the area, pretending to inspect their surroundings. If Angelina woke up now, the situation would be incredibly awkward. The princess, still unconscious, had no idea how she had been fed—and the faint trace of someone else's saliva on her lips would remain a mystery.
Although Caesar had already scouted the area during the day and found no immediate threats, he wasn't entirely reassured. Water sources in forests often attracted wildlife, but this lake was oddly silent. It was a saltwater lake—rare in such an environment—and no animals seemed to come here to drink.
Their water supply came solely from the fluids of those strange creatures, but with limited stones scattered across the sandy shore, Caesar suspected there wouldn't be many more of them nearby. He needed to plan ahead and find a reliable source of freshwater.
Unfortunately, after a brief nighttime patrol, Caesar found nothing but more trees. The darkness severely limited his vision.
Returning to their makeshift shelter, Caesar pulled over a patch of grass and began weaving. His sister had once made grass clothes for him when they were young, and he remembered enough to try crafting a grass blanket. The nights on the cliffside were freezing, and the fire alone wouldn't be enough to keep them warm.
Exhaustion finally caught up with him halfway through his task, and Caesar drifted into sleep, clutching Angelina close like a heat source.
Princess or not, survival comes first.
At this point, Caesar no longer cared about propriety. Whether they would even make it out of this jungle alive remained uncertain.