The air was thick with humidity, clinging to my skin like an invisible shroud. The usual sounds of the forest had faded, the distant calls of unseen creatures eerily absent. Something was coming. My senses sharpened, noting the shift in atmosphere. The sky, once a brilliant blue, had darkened as thick storm clouds rolled in, swallowing the sun's light. The wind, which had been a gentle breeze moments ago, stirred violently, rustling the treetops with restless energy. I had seen storms like this before, back in the wasteland—violent, unpredictable, and often deadly. This one was no different.
I turned back toward my shelter, quickening my pace, each step pressing into the dampening soil. My cave was sturdy, reinforced with wooden beams to prevent collapse, but I needed to ensure everything inside was secure. The last thing I needed was to return from a supply run to find my tools scattered and my firewood drenched. As I reached the entrance, the first cold droplets of rain splashed against my skin, darkening the dry ground beneath me. Within moments, the drizzle became a relentless downpour, the sky opening up in a furious cascade. I barely made it inside before the storm truly hit.
Lightning tore through the heavens, illuminating the forest in sharp, blinding flashes before the deafening crack of thunder followed. The wind howled, bending ancient trees at unnatural angles, sending loose branches whipping through the air like jagged projectiles. I watched from the safety of my cave, the fire casting flickering shadows along the stone walls, its warmth untouched by the chaos outside. The rhythmic patter of rain against the rocks filled the space, a steady, almost hypnotic sound. My eyes adjusted to the dim interior, scanning the surroundings. My tools remained neatly stacked in the corner, my firewood protected, and my gathered ore samples undisturbed. There was nothing to do but wait.
Then, a new sound. A faint squelching, a writhing movement just outside the entrance. It wasn't the wind. I stepped forward, peering down at the wet earth, and saw them—worms. Hundreds of them, wriggling and twisting as the storm drove them from the soaked soil. Some were small, no larger than the common earthworms I remembered from my old world. Others were much bigger. The largest among them stretched nearly the length of my forearm, their segmented bodies glistening under the flashes of lightning. I crouched down, picking one up. It squirmed in my grip but wasn't aggressive, merely displaced from its underground home.
As I observed the creature, an idea took root. An opportunity.
I didn't need food, but I could still taste, and it had been far too long since I'd had fresh fish. These worms would make excellent bait. If they thrived in this environment, that meant the rivers and lakes nearby likely contained fish accustomed to feeding on them. Once the storm passed, I would test my theory. Working quickly, I gathered the largest specimens, placing them into a woven basket I had made from dried plant fibers. The rain continued its assault, the storm showing no signs of easing, but I had what I needed.
The night dragged on, the wind howling through the trees, rainwater pooling in the lower parts of the forest. I stoked the fire, keeping the cave warm, its glow warding off the darkness that threatened to consume everything beyond the entrance. With nothing else to do, I turned my attention to a new task—crafting a more efficient fishing tool. A simple spear was effective in shallow waters, but it lacked the precision I wanted. With the fibers I had gathered, I began twisting them into something resembling thread, testing their durability. They were strong, flexible enough to serve as line. With time, I could fashion hooks from sharpened bone or scavenged metal. For now, simplicity would suffice.
By morning, the storm had weakened, the rain now a light drizzle, the sky painted in shades of gray. I stepped outside, inhaling deeply. The air was crisp, cleansed by the downpour, carrying the scent of wet earth and fresh vegetation. The ground was soft beneath my feet, small streams forming where the water had carved paths through the terrain. These were perfect conditions for fishing.
I made my way to the river, basket in hand. The water was swollen from the storm, its usual clarity replaced with murky currents. I found a suitable spot near a bend where the flow wasn't as strong and set my bait. It didn't take long before I got my first bite.
The fish here were unlike those from Earth. The first one I pulled from the water had sleek, dark green scales, its long, sinuous body thrashing violently. It was strong for its size, muscles coiled like a predator built for ambush. Its teeth were sharp, designed for tearing into prey, but it wasn't large enough to be a real threat. I examined it closely before deciding it was safe to eat. More followed. Within an hour, I had caught several, each species unfamiliar yet fascinating in its own way. Some had fins that emitted a faint bioluminescent glow, likely an adaptation to their environment. Others bore armored scales, thicker than any fish I had encountered before.
I carried my catch back to the cave, eager to see if they tasted as good as they looked. Gutting and cleaning them was a simple task, my hands working with practiced efficiency. A sharpened stone made quick work of the scales, revealing firm, fresh meat beneath. The scent alone was enough to confirm their quality—none of the foul, irradiated stench I had grown accustomed to in the wasteland. Skewering the fillets on a stick, I held them over the fire, watching as the fat dripped into the flames, sizzling upon contact.
The first bite was a revelation.
The flesh was rich, slightly sweet, unlike anything I had eaten in years. It was real, untouched by radiation, by artificial preservation. Even though I didn't need to eat for survival, I still relished the experience. It wasn't just about sustenance—it was about reclaiming something that had been lost. A simple pleasure, a moment of normalcy.
As I sat by the fire, savoring my meal, memories surfaced. Waking up in a vault, the world I once knew buried under centuries of decay. The decision to abandon my failing human body, to transfer my mind into a modified Gen 3 Synth shell. The endless pursuit of knowledge, of survival, of something greater. And then—being torn from my world entirely, thrown into this unknown land.
Yet, despite everything, I had adapted. I had built shelter, gathered resources, and now, I had the beginnings of something more. A fresh start. A life on my terms.
The storm had passed, but it had left behind more than destruction. It had brought opportunity. A reminder that even in a world filled with unknowns, there were moments worth holding onto. Tomorrow, I would return to my work. The forge needed to be built. The mines needed expanding. There was still so much to do. But for now, I allowed myself this one quiet moment, letting the fire's warmth seep into my skin, the taste of victory lingering on my tongue.
For the first time in a long while, I didn't just feel like a survivor.
I felt human.
End of Chapter Three