“Time to burn some of the diary pages.”

  I took the diary and read it thoroughly, plucking out the pages filled with useless crap.

  “From Moros village… ran away to the Falling Man Forest…”

  A land guarded by the gods, where people randomly appear high up in the sky.

  “Spawn point in the sky? What a shitty feature.”

  Some splattered as soon as they hit the ground. Others got lucky and dropped into Breakfall Lake—hence the name.

  The little weasel had planned to make quick cash by spawn-camping and looting.

  “Not a bad idea. Too bad you ran into a cursed pair of imbeciles.” I glanced at the corpses and let out a chuckle.

  The forest was free of strong animals or abominations, full of fruit and small game.

  ‘Too bad the small animals…’

  He didn’t finish the entry.

  “The small animals what? You can’t just stop before the important part!” I slammed the diary shut and decided to burn that page specifically—along with the one about how beautiful his girl was, as payback for blueballing me.

  I ripped out the pages, getting irrationally angry at the very existence of paper. “Why the everloving fuck does a peasant have a crude notebook-thing?”

  Still, I let it go. No need to stress over shitty worldbuilding. Not yet.

  “Now I only need a lighter and I can make a fire.” Sure thing—like one’s just going to be lying around. Yeah, no.

  I spat on the ground and tried to find some flint. I dug through the camp and found only sawdust.

  “Eh. Beggars can’t be choosers.”

  I gathered everything and arranged it in the small firepit the couple had left behind. Their last fire was long gone, but the partially burned wood should help—or so Granny always said.

  “Hey, Nelson. You know how to make a fire?” I shouted, rubbing my shoulder.

  “Shut the fuck up, I’m trying to shit!” he shouted back.

  Nelson seemed incapable of opening both sphincters at once, so I gave up on his help and tried to make fire the old-fashioned way.

  In no time, I was able to successfully—

  —tire myself.

  “This feels like scrubbing clothes by hand, dammit!”

  Nelson returned from his business, walking funny and scratching his rear.

  “Frank, why weren’t we given never-ending magic toilet paper in our starter kit?” Nelson complained, his modern needs unmet.

  “Rough leaves?” I chuckled at my friend’s petty misery.

  “Fuck you,” he replied, deeply offended.

  “Better luck next time,” I said, as i activated [Autism Focus Lv1] to rub the sticks, periodically stopping to wipe sweat off my face. Bald life meant sweat had a straight shot into my eyes.

  “Since you’re getting the fire going, I’ll try to get us our meal. There’s a ton of fruit, but I want meat.”

  “Try not to get yourself killed by a level 100 bunny.”

  Nelson disappeared into the woods, warming up his arms like he was heading to war.

  My [Autism Focus Lv1] wore off, and my mind started to drift.

  “This would be easier if I were a mage. Fuck you, Hexamalius.” I recalled that petty god who had cucked me out of artillery mage class.

  “Luminaria, you bitch—why wasn't there a fire-starter in the noob starter pack?” I blasphemed as easily as I breathed, and poor Luminaria caught my stray, unjustified swearing.

  I made sure Nelson wasn’t around before whispering, “Hey Helena… Can you add hellfire to my blessing?”

  I chuckled for a couple seconds, then patted my chest, feeling a small pang of loneliness.

  ‘Am I that easy to charm?’

  I kept grumbling about my [flat vulnerability].

  “Frank, I got us some bunny meat!” Nelson arrived with some suspicious fruits and a bunny.

  “How the hell did you hunt a bunny?” I squinted.

  “Well, the world tends to give me what I want. He was sleeping on a path full of debris and broken twigs.” Nelson pushed the bunny toward me at chest height, wearing a smug grin.

  “Ain’t this the bunny that got hit by me after I got blasted away by you?”

  I examined the unfortunate soon-to-be meal critter: no bleeding, no broken bones, pristine fur—yet unmoving.

  “Mmm… it’s still breathing.”

  “Maybe it’s brain damage?” Nelson offered.

  “Nelson, stay put.”

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  “No fucking wa—”

  Before he could finish, I threw a right hook into his chin. He staggered sideways, hand snapping to his jaw, eyes drilling into me.

  “Stay put—I wanna test my damage!” Nelson swung back, but his attack-speed debuff kicked in. His punch crawled through the air in slow motion, and I casually stepped out of reach.

  “Calm the fuck down. I can’t damage you.”

  He answered me while still trapped, finishing the same sad, turtle-speed swing.

  “Are you sure you can’t deal damage?”

  I picked up the hunting knife cautiously. For a moment I expected it to spark and char my hand—like that one grumpy shield wielder.

  “I believe so. If the idiotic rules of this world are absolute, I can’t. Let’s see…”

  I tried to cut the bunny’s neck as proof.

  “Yeah. Damn sure. I can’t deliver the killing blow—can’t skin it, can’t even drain it. It’s up to you, city boy.” I tossed the knife to Nelson.

  “Chest piercing strike!” Nelson tried to impale the bunny with a stupid pose and all.

  The debuff kicked in again.

  “DAMNIT! This is fucking annoying.” He clenched his teeth—wearing the same old angry face I hadn’t seen in five years.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” I snatched the knife before he could land the hit.

  “Piercing the heart so the blood flows out! But I can’t move any faster! Fucking debuff!”

  I took the bunny off his hands. He grabbed it again, and it turned into a tug-of-war. The stress of being juggled between two idiots gave the bunny a heart attack, and it died.

  “You gotta cut the neck blood vessels, you imbecile! Didn’t you see survival videos?!”

  “I don’t believe those idiots!” Nelson stood proudly, stroking his non-existent moustache. “Not the soyboy ones—the countryside ones. I showed them to my grandma, and she said the blood-drain and skinning ones are legit. She even taught me how she did it.”

  ‘May you not have had the misfortune of getting isekai’d too, abuelita. It’s fucking awful.’

  “Then explain, F-rank Frank.”

  I took a rope from the camp, tied the bunny by its hind legs, hung it from a tree, then began to tell Nelson what to do.

  “Cut the neck deep. Check your own veins to guess where, then slash like th—”

  “Ah.”

  A stream of warm red liquid began to flow.

  “Holy shit, I cut its neck!” I could almost cry with happiness and relief.

  “I thought you couldn’t deal damage. How come?” Nelson furrowed his brow in confusion.

  “No, it’s true. See?” I got close to him and tried to stab his belly.

  “Wait, wai—” Nelson tried to avoid it but failed. Still, I couldn’t pierce his skin. I kept repeating the motion, finding the situation sad and funny.

  “You’re so fucked! HAHAHAHAHAH!”

  “Completely. But—” I checked the bunny’s breathing. It was gone. No pulse either. “—at least I can damage ‘dead’ animals and trees, I guess,” I concluded, remembering how during my fall I broke quite a lot of twigs.

  “So, nothing with HP?”

  “Maybe. Stupid world with stupid rules.”

  I began to skin the bunny joyfully.

  “But I’m relieved, you know? I’ll be able to chew and eat without having to depend on you to cut everything into bite-sized chunks.”

  I let the poor creature drip blood and returned to my original shitty task.

  “Would you even digest food if that was the case? Wouldn’t that count as a DoT?”

  Nelson sat cross-legged on the ground, waiting for the fire.

  “Let’s not go down that rabbit hole. I’m just glad it’s not the case.”

  We kept chattering for a while longer. Eventually, Nelson got bored of waiting.

  “Hey, Frank. Why don’t you use a lighter?”

  “Why don’t you wipe with toilet paper, mister itchy ass?”

  “Right… then when are you gonna start the fire?”

  “If you’re bored, why don’t you read the diary and see what you find?”

  He grabbed the diary and started reading.

  “What shitty handwriting.”

  “As shitty as yours, hehehe.”

  He ignored me and kept reading.

  “According to this, there’s a lake nearby! I don’t recall seeing one while we were skydiving.”

  “Me neither, maybe it’s—”

  “Ah! Smoke is coming out!” I yelled, excited.

  Finally, smoke began to rise from the sawdust—like a young man discovering his penis’ second function. I sped up and managed to coax a few embers.

  Nelson helped, using the diary to fan the embers.

  “Hell yeah!” The fire caught. We celebrated our epic achievement with a high five and grumbling bellies.

  “Great! Time for some roasted bunny,” Nelson said.

  We used pointy sticks we found at the camp, impaled the bunny, and patiently roasted it… or not.

  “Frank, this is taking forever!” Nelson’s hunger was getting out of hand.

  “Chew on the fruits meanwhile.”

  “Not yet! I need to see if my friend with [Iron Gut] gets lightly poisoned!”

  He tossed me a fist-sized red fruit.

  “Cheeky cunt.” I caught it and munched. Mango texture, apple flavor. Manzango?

  Nelson forced himself not to touch the fruit for fifteen minutes, watching to see if I puked or doubled over with stomach cramps.

  “This is great. Very sweet,” the bastard said. Then he ate them all while we waited for the bunny to cook.

  After what we assumed was enough time, we began to munch on it.

  “Tastes like bland chicken—and it’s undercooked,” Nelson complained, disgusted.

  “Get used to it. There’s a good chance we won’t get modern seasoning… unless this world’s creator is a talentless hack.”

  “Who would’ve thought we had to die to finally camp inawoods.” Nelson poked the fire, briefly lost in thought about the people he’d left behind.

  “Yeah, I doubt this world’s forests are more dangerous than LATAM forests,” I added.

  “No need for monsters when a friend of the woods (gangster) can skin you alive for funsies.”

  “And dump you in a clandestine cemetery.”

  “Yeah, fuck th—”

  Nelson stopped mid-sentence as his belly rumbled—the bad kind of rumble. His face went pale with pure fear.

  “Frank, my stomach is rebelling… please no.”

  “Sucks to be you. Good thing I got [Iron Gut] instead of more dong size.” I gave him zero sympathy; the bitch had treated me like a poison tester.

  Nelson ran to the designated bush bathroom with the shitbag in hand. I heard him sob, and I couldn’t help chuckling at his gut orchestra. Anyway, we’d need water before he actually died of diarrhea.

  “What was that pessimistic saying? Smile today—tomorrow will be worse?” I gulped down the last bit of rabbit, licked my fingers, then used my dirty, ragged pants to “clean” them.

  I took the diary out again and tried to find where Breakfall Lake was located—we needed water to drink, wash myself, wash my rags, and avoid Nelson’s imminent death by dehydration.

  “HEY, NELSON! I LEFT YOU THE REST OF THE BUNNY! TRY GETTING SOME ELECTROLYTES BACK!” I yelled.

  “DON’T TALK TO ME WHILE I—UUUGH. CURSE YOU, ISEKAILAND CREATOR!”

  At some point, night fully embraced the forest, but I could still see—barely—a faint glow enveloping several flowers.

  “Practical and pretty. Sis would’ve liked it.” I drifted for a moment, a small sad smile flashing across my face before it vanished.

  “I can’t see for shit. The sun’s already gone… I’ll just hit the sack. Nelson might survive the night. Hopefully.”

  I focused on making a pseudo-pillow. I used the dead girl’s clothes—she wouldn’t need them anymore.

  Nelson kept shuttling between the camp and the bush bathroom, cursing every trip.

  Eventually, I fell asleep, putting an end to this shitty first day.