Day 1.
Kaiser wrote it down in the battered diary he had stuffed into his bag, the same one he used to write random thoughts and nonsense back when life was safe and boring. Now it served a far more serious purpose: keeping track of time, keeping his mind sharp, keeping himself sane.
He didn't even bother trying to make the handwriting pretty. His fingers were already a bit numb from the cool air, and the adrenaline had long since worn off. He jotted down the basics:
Forest. Cold. Alone. No sign of humans. Found cave. No beasts. Smells like crap but safe. No fire—risk of attracting god-knows-what. Ate canned beans. Still edible. Will ration.
Objective 1: Find water.Objective 2: Get out.Objective 3: Don't die.
That last one, he circled three times.
By late morning, Kaiser had begun exploring outside the cave again, walking with slow, cautious steps. His bike helmet was still strapped to his head, not exactly comfortable but comforting in its own way. His grip never left the metal bat, and every leaf rustle made his breath catch.
The forest was thick, damp, and alien. It wasn't some enchanted realm or horrifying monster-infested hellscape—not yet anyway. Just trees, underbrush, and the kind of unfamiliar silence that made you feel like you were constantly being watched. He saw squirrels. A few colorful birds. Some odd deer-like creature with spiraling antlers.
He sighed.
"No magic sword stuck in a tree. No mysterious ancient grandpa spirit. Not even a glowing rock," he muttered. "All these cultivation MCs and transmigrators—'Oh no, I tripped and fell into a ruin with a cheat!' 'Oh no, a divine inheritance chose me!' Where's my damn plot armor?"
He kicked a pebble, then regretted making the noise.
Still, he kept moving. The forest had a strange uniformity. He noticed a lack of predators. No wolves, no bears, no big cat tracks. No insects buzzing in swarms. Even the squirrels seemed… off. Watchful.
"Okay. So I'm either extremely lucky… or extremely screwed."
He searched for water. A stream. A puddle. Anything. But hours of circling yielded nothing. No signs of running water, no moist soil, not even muddy terrain that might hint at a riverbed. His frustration simmered under his cautious exterior.
Time wasted. No water source found. Maybe I'm looking in the wrong direction? Terrain's too flat. Maybe I need elevation.
Mental note: climb somewhere high tomorrow, if possible. Scout better.
He returned to the cave before dusk.
The canned beans he ate last night hadn't made him sick, so he opened another tin—corn this time—and ate in silence. He held onto every bite longer than he normally would, chewing deliberately, like it could last longer that way. Afterward, he drank half a bottle of water and placed the rest in the corner he designated for "essentials."
Sitting on his luggage, he stared into the dim, gray mouth of the cave. No fire. Just the gloom and his thoughts.
"Three days," he murmured. "Maybe four, if I stretch the food. Water's the real issue."
His eyes fell to the bat, leaned beside his bag like an awkward pet.
"I'm not… one of those guys."
He spoke the words out loud, as if admitting them to the cave would make them real.
"I'm not that kind of MC. I've never skinned an animal. I've never even snapped a twig off a tree without apologizing to it in my head."
A faint chuckle escaped him. Sad. Bitter.
"I don't hate animals. But I don't like them either. I didn't even want a dog. When I was ten, a bird flew into the window and broke its wing. I cried for an hour. My dad had to take it to the vet. It died."
His voice trailed off.
"And now I have to… hunt? Trap? Gut something?"
He looked at his hands. They didn't feel like a killer's hands. They felt soft. Hesitant. Fragile.
He spent the rest of the evening organizing supplies again. Biscuits, cans, some dried fruit. Utensils. A multitool. A small cooking stove with three refills. He counted it all, twice.
He had maybe three days if he rationed perfectly. He could push to four, but the moment he ran out of water, it was game over.
He had no illusions.
"I'll die if I wait too long. I have no cheat. No 'System Activated' chime. Just my own head."
He added another line to the journal:
Avoiding reality won't save me. If I don't escape or find a source of water and food soon, I'll have to learn how to hunt. Or die.
That was the bottom line.
So he began planning again, drawing a crude map of the forest paths he'd taken, marking where he'd seen animals, strange trees, odd terrain. He scrawled in guesses—"south = safer?", "east = high ground?", "possible slope here?"
Then he paused, tapping the page.
"Still no cheat," he muttered again.
He stared up at the cave ceiling. The glowing blue panel hadn't appeared since that first time. He hadn't summoned it since last night. He was almost scared to.
After a long pause, he whispered:
"Transmigration Group Chat."
Ding.
The blue panel shimmered into existence, floating just inches from his face. Still only [kaiser(1)] on the left. No one else. No replies. Just a chat window. The most lonely group chat ever created.
He typed:
anyone here?
Nothing.
He typed again:
hello?
Still nothing.
"Guess I really am the first…"
He stared at the name: kaiser(1)
"Does that mean others will come? Or… does it just mean I'm the first, and the last?"
No answers.
No pings.
Just him.
Day One. Alive. Dry. Fed. Alone.
Tomorrow, he'd try to climb. Get higher ground. If he could spot a river, even a stream, it'd change everything.
Until then, he tucked the bat beside his sleeping bag, zipped his coat tighter, and prayed nothing would crawl into the cave in the middle of the night.
Kaiser didn't know what tomorrow would bring.
But he did know one thing.
If no one else was coming to save him—he'd have to become someone who could save himself.