The Record of Hyoren Enjo’s Journey in Another World

Chapter 3

Finding Shelter in the Middle of Forest

Date: Unknown (Second day of Journey)

With new resolve, Hyoren started his second day in the forest.

He quickly untied himself from the branch. The vines fell away from his waist. He climbed down the tree—his muscles protesting each movement. Stiff from the awkward sleeping position.

He stretched. The night’s rest had not been the best. The trunk was hard. The vines had dug into his skin, leaving marks. But his mind was clear.

Clearer than it had been since he arrived in this forest.

He could hear sounds with clarity now. The rustle of leaves. The distant trickle of water. And if he focused, he could differentiate between the rustle caused by a creature and the rustle caused by wind.

He scanned his surroundings. The haze that had clouded his eyes—the haze of panic and desperation—was gone. He could see more clearly. Noticing small movements in the undergrowth. Detecting the subtle shifts in the forest around him.

He took a deep breath. The cool morning air filled his lungs. The image of last night’s dream coalesced in his mind. His father’s face. His father’s voice. The lessons drilled into him over years of harsh training.

”Thanks, Dad.”

He looked at the trees around him. The forest no longer seemed like an endless nightmare.

”Now this forest looks... not less dangerous. But at least survivable.”

His gaze shifted upward. The dual suns hung in the sky—one gold, one silver—casting their strange light through the leaves.

His mind wandered somewhere far. To memories of a different world. A different life.

”Watch this, Dad. Watch how your son is going to tame this forest.”

He exhaled deeply. Then his eyes focused. His mind shifted to practical reality.

He checked his wound.

”I don’t know if it’s thanks to the waxy leaves, or because of ambient magic, or because I keep absorbing essence. My wound already closed.”

The gash on his flank had scabbed over. The wound was closed. A dull ache still remained—but unlike yesterday, it wouldn’t hinder his movement.

He looked up at the trees above.

”The trees seem safe. For now.”

He rubbed his arm where the bark had left marks.

”If I can’t find a good cave or cliff, I’ll use them again tonight. The night chill is harsh without a campfire. But I can’t realistically create fire before finding safe shelter first.”

He made his way to the river. Drank a few mouthfuls of water. The cold liquid soothed his throat—but his stomach remained empty. He couldn’t do anything about his hunger yet.

”I would like to eat soon. But I can survive for a few weeks without food, as long as I have water.”

He washed his face. The cold water shocked his system. Erasing every trace of sleepiness.

”I would be severely weakened though. So I need to find food soon.”

He picked up the stick he had laid on the ground the night before. It had served its purpose yesterday—but it was clumsy. Enough for an emergency. For surviving, he needed a better weapon.

”I need to make a better weapon.”

If he needed to face many monsters, he needed something more lethal. Something that wouldn’t fall apart after a few kills.

His eyes scanned the riverbank. He searched through the scattered stones. Crouched at the edge. Turned over rocks with his hands. Examined each one before tossing it aside.

It took some time.

Then he found it—a piece of flint rock. Gray and sharp-edged. And nearby, a heavier, rounded stone that fit nicely in his palm.

”This rock is good... I can make a spearhead with this.”

He turned the flint over in his hands.

”Primitive, yes. But effective.”

Hyoren settled onto a flat rock by the water’s edge. He began the work of knapping.

He struck the flint with the hammer stone. Chips flew into the river. He struck again—adjusting the angle. Finding the natural fractures in the stone.

The first piece shattered midway through. Cracking along a fault line he hadn’t noticed. He tossed the fragments into the river and started over. Scanning for better material.

His eyes caught something. Another piece of flint, half-buried in the dirt near the water’s edge. He pulled it free and turned it over in his hands.

”This is perfect. The shape is almost like it was made for piercing. I only need to sharpen it.”

He settled back into his work. Strike. Chip. Strike. Chip. The rhythm was familiar—his father’s training guiding his hands even now.

When he finished, he held the spearhead up to the light.

”Not bad. Not bad at all.”

The point was sharp. The edges jagged but functional.

”A bit brittle, yes. But sharp. As long as I manage my thrusts well... avoid the hard parts... this should last.”

He set the spearhead aside and went searching for the shaft.

It didn’t take long to find a straight sapling. About two meters long. Growing at the forest’s edge. He tested it—flexed it. Strong enough.

He worked slowly. Stripping the bark. Sharpening one end into a point. He carved a notch into the sharpened end—deep enough to hold the spearhead. Careful not to split the wood.

When the notch was deep enough, he wedged the flint spearhead into place. He secured it with vines—wrapping them tight. Binding the stone to the wood.

He stood. Tested the weight and balance. The spear felt good in his hands. Like an extension of his arm.

He gave it an experimental swing. The wood cut through the air with a satisfying whoosh.

”For a makeshift spear, this is good...”

He practiced a few thrusts. Stabbing at the air. Adjusting his grip. Finding the right movements.

He was satisfied.

”Okay. Time to head upstream again.”

He adjusted his grip on the makeshift spear.

”I hope I can find good shelter today.”

His stomach rumbled. He touched it absently.

”I want to eat. I can get meat from those fish or...”

He trailed off. His gaze drifted to the river.

”And eating meat requires fire.”

He couldn’t make fire before finding proper shelter. The fire and smoke might attract predators. A campfire in the open would be like a beacon—announcing his presence to every hungry creature in the forest.

***

Hyoren continued walking upstream.

He moved slowly—not because of his wound, but to conserve energy. He didn’t want to fight more rabbits and waste his precious stamina. Every unnecessary encounter was a risk he couldn’t afford.

He picked his steps carefully now. Unlike yesterday’s frantic stumbling through the forest, his father’s teachings about hunting guided his movements. Avoid branches. Avoid dry leaves. Always mind the step. Pick softer ground to mask sounds.

With this approach, he could avoid encountering horned rabbits. He spotted them in the corner of his eyes—moving through the underbrush. He would stay still and wait until they passed by without detecting him.

The terrain began to rise steadily. The river’s path grew more turbulent as it cut through a rocky gorge. The sound of crashing water grew louder. The roar filled his ears.

He kept trekking upstream. His stomach rumbled. His legs started aching. And after a whole day of arduous trekking along the riverbank, he rounded a bend and saw it.

A magnificent waterfall cascaded down a sheer cliff face. Its spray caught the strange, dual sunlight—creating a shimmering rainbow that arced across the mist.

”Whoa.”

He stopped. Staring.

”The waterfall is like paradise inside this monster-infested forest. And look at that cave beside it.”

There, nestled in the cliff about ten meters above the waterline, was a cave. Exactly what he had been praying for. The entrance was partially obscured by a natural rock overhang. A few jutting rocks provided the only access—creating a natural staircase. It was a defensible fortress. A place where he could control the only point of entry. A place where he could watch the surrounding area from relative safety.

”I thought I was going to sleep on the trees again. Fate seems to finally be working in my favor.”

He smiled. For the first time since arriving in this forest, something had gone right.

But as he walked closer to the cave, a growl reached his ears. From his side.

He instinctively gripped his spear and pivoted. A horned rabbit stood there—muscles tensed. Preparing to attack.

With practiced motions, he dodged. The rabbit lunged at empty air. And with a single thrust, he drove his spear into its neck. The blade pierced through—severing the spine.

The creature convulsed. Twitched. Then lay still.

”Having a proper weapon or not is truly a difference.”

He pulled his spear free. Wiped the blood on the grass.

”I can kill them with a single strike now, as long as I’m focused.”

He looked at the rabbit. Then at his spear. He nodded. Satisfied.

”I found shelter. So I can create fire tonight. Now, for the food...”

His gaze fell upon the rabbit carcass. Lying in the grass. Still warm.

”Is this meat even edible? Or should I try to catch those glowing fish in the river?”

He glanced at the water. The fish he had seen earlier.

”But I don’t have tools to catch fish... It seems my only choice is that rabbit meat.”

His stomach twisted. A mix of hunger and revulsion.

”My stomach hurts just by thinking of eating this. But I need to eat. I hope this meat won’t poison me.”

He dragged the body to the river’s edge. The task of butchering it with nothing but his hands and a sharp rock loomed before him. A grim but necessary challenge.

Hyoren’s eyes scanned the rocky shoreline.

”I need tools. To skin this horned rabbit. I can’t eat it as is. I need a better tool for skinning my game.”

His gaze moved over the stones. Just like when he crafted his spear that morning. But this time, he searched for something different—smaller, flatter, more uniform.

A glint of black caught his attention.

He knelt and pried free a shard of obsidian-like stone. It had broken from a larger vein in the cliff face. The edge was already thin. Already sharp. He could use it as a knife as it was—but with slight modification, it would be easier to hold.

He sat back down and went to work. The stone took shape under his hands. Careful strikes. Careful shaping. A comfortable grip. A sharp blade.

He tested the edge against his thumb. A thin line of red welled up instantly. He hadn’t even felt the cut.

”Tools for skinning my game, secured.”

He stood and turned toward the river. The water rippled with movement. Small glowing fish darted in skittish schools. And occasionally, something larger. Red scales. A serrated pike jutting from its forehead—almost like a swordfish.

”I might want to catch a fish too.”

He watched them for a moment. Calculating.

”Catching those fast fish with a spear might be a fool’s errand. I’ll think about fish later. Rabbit is more abundant and easier to get.”

He turned to the rabbit carcass.

The butchery was messy. Blood on his hands. Fur sticking to his fingers. But the lessons from that long-ago camping trip with his father served him well. Cut here. Slice there. Separate the meat from the hide. Remove the organs.

With the meat secured—wrapped in wide leaves he found from the nearby undergrowth—his mind immediately jumped to the next priority.

”I need to make fire. Not only to cook, but also to warm myself. I don’t want to repeat last night.”

He clutched his spear. Tucked his obsidian knife into his belt. Carried the meat wrapped in leaves.

He climbed the cliff. The jutting rocks became a natural staircase for him. One hand on the rock. One foot finding purchase. Then the other. It wasn’t easy—but he could climb without needing both hands free.

He arrived at the overhang. Peered into the cave’s maw.

Darkness. He let his eyes adjust.

The air inside was cool and dry. The faint, clean smell of wet stone drifted from the waterfall outside. No smell of rot. No smell of musk. No sign of habitation.

”This is... too good.”

He stepped inside. Scanning the walls. The floor. The ceiling.

”Empty. No sign of monsters using this as their den.”

He turned in a slow circle. Assessing.

”The size is perfect for one person. The entrance is narrow… I can easily defend this.”

He studied the walls. Running his hand along the cool stone. Solid. No cracks. No hidden passages.

”The rocky staircase outside will slow down any monster before they can reach me.”

He nodded to himself. The cave was defensible. Secure. A place where he could rest without constantly watching his back.

He dropped his meager supplies on the dusty floor. The spear clattered against the stone. The bundle of rabbit meat wrapped in leaves landed with a soft thump.

A sense of security settled over him. For the first time since his arrival in this unknown forest, he felt something close to safety.

He stood in the middle of the cave. His shoulders relaxed.

”After trees last night, this cave truly feels like home.”

The word caught in his throat. Home. Such a simple concept. A place to return to. A place to rest. A place that was his.

He nodded. Satisfied.

He had a home. For now.

***

The suns started to set. Casting the cave with warm orange hues. The light filtered through the entrance—painting the stone walls in shades of gold and amber.

”Time to gather stuff needed to make my rest a bit more comfortable.”

He looked around the bare cave. The floor was hard rock. Cold. Unforgiving.

”Branches for fire. And leaves for a makeshift bed. I can’t rest on this hard rock.”

He ran his hand along the wall. Feeling the texture.

”Also, this cave should be safe, but I need to make it more defensible.”

He descended the natural staircase. Moving with a new confidence born of having a safe haven to retreat to. His muscles were tired—but his spirit was high.

He gathered armfuls of large, dry leaves from a plant that resembled a giant fern. Their waxy surface suggested they would be both soft and water-resistant. He found several sturdy fallen branches—breaking them into lengths that would fit inside the cave.

”This cave is truly made to become a home.”

He paused. Looking at the natural formations along the walls.

”It even has shelves for me to put my stuff.”

He hauled his findings back up the ledge. His muscles protested with each step—but his spirit remained high.

He arranged the branches on the floor to create a pallet. Then piled the fern leaves on top. Creating a mattress that was crude but infinitely better than cold, hard stone. He placed the bundle of rabbit meat on one of the natural shelves carved into the cave wall.

He descended to the ground again. Scanning the area.

”This natural staircase would deter rabbits from climbing. But if other monsters exist, I need to make contingencies.”

He looked at the rocky steps. Evaluating.

”I can’t make elaborate defenses. But at least I should make an alarm system to alert me.”

He gathered small vines. Tied small flints and branches to them, creating a simple mechanism. He extended the vine across the staircase—positioning the noisemakers at key points.

Now if any monster tried to climb, he would hear the rattling. The sound would alert him.

”This should be good. For now.”

He stepped back. Examining his work.

”I’ll create a better one later.”

As Hyoren finished creating his makeshift alarm, he noticed something.

A sizzling sound. Near the river.

It was masked by the roar of the waterfall—but when he concentrated, he could hear it. Like the sound of acid dissolving something.

”What is that sound? It’s like when we did experiments in chemistry class...”

His curiosity piqued. Hyoren moved toward the riverbank. The sound grew clearer as he approached—a wet, bubbling sizzle.

His eyes widened.

There, nestled among the riverside rocks, was a small translucent creature. It was nearly shapeless—a quivering mass of gelatinous fluid with a round, dense nucleus floating within its body. The thing had engulfed the carcass of the horned rabbit he had butchered earlier.

”Is that... a slime?”

He stared. Unable to look away.

”The rabbit carcass is dissolving inside its body!”

He crouched behind a boulder. Observing from a safe distance.

The slime pulsed. Its gel-like body contracting and expanding as it digested its meal. The sizzling sound intensified whenever the creature’s acidic fluids broke down another chunk of meat.

Minutes passed.

The flesh vanished piece by piece. Until only clean white bones remained—gleaming in the fading light.

The slime shuddered once. Then began to drift away from the picked-clean remains. Leaving a trail of slightly bubbling residue in its wake.

”It’s done eating? Or absorbing, to be exact.”

He gripped his spear.

”Should I attack it? That acid looks strong. I don’t want it to eat me next.”

He rose from his crouch. Spear in hand. He began to circle around the slime’s path. His footsteps were careful. Deliberate. Avoiding dry leaves and snapping twigs.

”Slime weakness... if it’s like the usual fantasy trope, should be its core or fire magic.”

He calculated. Planning.

”I can’t burn it since I don’t have fire magic. So... aiming at its core? The nucleus that’s moving around?”

The slime continued its slow retreat. Unaware of his presence.

Hyoren lunged forward. He thrust the butt-end of his spear—not the flint tip, as it was brittle—toward the floating nucleus.

The blow landed—but the spear simply sank into the gel with a wet squelch. The core shifted lazily to the side. Avoiding the impact entirely.

”Damn. The core keeps moving. And the gel-like body absorbs impact!”

He tried again. And again. Each thrust faster than the last. Attempting to predict where the nucleus would drift. But the slime’s body simply yielded around his weapon while the core moved just out of reach.

The creature didn’t even seem bothered. It just kept sliding away from him. Slow. Steady. Retreating toward the deeper forest.

Panting, he lowered his spear. His arms ached from the exertion.

”I give up.”

He watched the translucent slime disappear into the shadows between the trees.

”It seems slimes are harmless. Just scavenging dead carcasses?”

He frowned. Thinking.

”Still, the need for fire is bigger now. I don’t want a slime creeping up on me while I sleep. I need to create a fire at the entrance of the cave.”

He stood there for a moment longer. Staring at the spot where the slime had vanished.

Then he turned and made his way back toward camp. The stick still clutched loosely in his hand. The forest felt different now.

***

The light outside began to fade.

The dual suns sank below the horizon. Bleeding orange hues across the sky before the forest swallowed the last of it. Shadows crept into the cave. Stretching across the stone floor.

Hyoren knelt near the entrance. He gathered the pile of dry twigs and leaves he’d collected earlier. His fingers sorted through them by feel. Separating the driest pieces from the damp ones that would only smoke.

”Dad taught me most animals are afraid of fire. So fire is a must when you take shelter in a cave.”

He paused. Hands still working. Piling up branches to make a pyramid shape.

”Especially with that slime around.”

He thought of the translucent creature. The way it had dissolved the rabbit carcass.

”I don’t know if slimes in this world work like the usual tropes, but I hope so.”

The forest had grown quieter. The waterfall’s constant rush filled the background as he picked up his flint and steel-hard rock.

”Fire’s also necessary to rest better. The warmth.”

He struck his flint against the steel-hard rock. Sparks scattered and died on the cold stone.

”And last but not least, with fire, we can cook. Cooked meals versus raw. That’s the difference between a human and a savage animal.”

He struck again. Sparks flew. Landed on the tinder. Nothing.

On the fourth try, a spark landed in the tinder and caught. A tiny orange glow. A wisp of smoke.

”The rock walls around the entrance should hide the flame from anything far away. But if those horned rabbits, or that slime, wandered close... they’d see it.”

He cupped his hands around the glow. Blew gently. Nurturing the ember until a thin curl of smoke rose. Followed by the first flame.

Carefully, he fed it twigs. Then larger branches. Until a small fire crackled and cast a warm glow across the stone walls.

The heat touched his face. His shoulders loosened. The tension from the day slowly draining away.

”Fire... it’s warm.”

He stared at the flames. Mesmerized by their dance.

”Next, time to roast my spoil.”

He skewered a slab of rabbit meat on a sharpened green stick. Held it over the fire. Fat dripped and hissed. The smell hit him first—alien, gamey, nothing like beef or chicken or anything he remembered from home.

His stomach turned.

”I ate a lot of game animals during survival training with Dad. But this is... different. A monster meat.”

He watched the meat sizzle. Browning and charring at the edges. Fat dripped from the skewer and hit the flames, sending up small bursts of orange light. The aroma shifted as it cooked—becoming something closer to actual food. Something his body recognized as nourishment.

His mouth watered despite the lingering reluctance. His stomach clenched. Aching. Demanding. His stomach had been empty for almost two days without food.

Hunger won.

He pulled the meat from the flames. Blew on it. The steam rose into his face—carrying that strange, gamey scent. Warm against his skin.

”But the smell... it smells good.”

He took a hesitant bite. Chewed slowly. The texture was different from any meat he had eaten before—slightly tougher, with a wildness to it that grocery store meat never had.

”Huh? It’s actually delicious.”

He chewed. Trying to identify the taste. Testing for any sign of poison. His tongue searched for bitterness. For the telltale signs of something wrong. He found only meat. Rich. Slightly sweet. Almost like duck, but gamier.

”The gamey taste isn’t that strong. And it’s juicy.”

He swallowed. Waited. Nothing happened. His stomach gurgled—accepting the food.

”What is this... badly unprepared and unseasoned meat should not be this delicious.”

He took another bite. Larger this time. The juices ran down his chin. He wiped it away with the back of his hand.

”I remember my first time eating the game animal I butchered myself.”

He chewed. Talking between bites. Filling the silence of the cave with his own voice.

”It made me vomit because the taste was so bloody. Made my stomach cramp for hours.”

He chuckled. The sound echoed off the stone walls.

”My dad still forced it down my throat though. He said in the wilderness I need to appreciate any food.”

He shook his head. Remembering. The taste of raw fear and blood in his mouth. The nausea. His father’s stern face watching him swallow.

”He was right. I would appreciate any food right now...”

He took another bite. Savoring the warmth. The sustenance. The simple fact of having something in his stomach.

He looked at the half-eaten roasted meat. The charred edges. The pink interior still visible where the fire hadn’t fully penetrated.

”They say hunger is the best spice. Or maybe monster meat in this world is just that good... tempered with magic or something.”

He paused eating. Looking at the cave ceiling. The rough stone. The flickering shadows cast by the fire.

Then he shrugged to no one.

”I don’t know. And right now, I don’t care.”

He took another bite. Speaking with his mouth half-full.

”This is delicious, not going to make me vomit, and can give me sustenance.”

He closed his eyes. The warmth of the fire on his face. The fullness in his belly. The first real meal he had eaten in this strange world.

”That’s enough for me...”

He kept eating. Talking quietly as he did. Filling the silence with words about nothing in particular. The taste of the meat. The way the firelight moved. The sound of the waterfall. He wasn’t explaining anything to anyone. Just filling the silence.

The emptiness of the cave felt less oppressive with his own voice echoing off the walls.

Sated and warm, Hyoren fed the fire a few more branches. The small blaze would last a few hours at least—enough to carry him through the darkest part of the night.

He moved to the back of the cave. Where he had arranged his makeshift bed. A pile of broad leaves and thin branches laid out on the stone. Crude. Uncomfortable. But better than bare rock.

He stretched out on top of it. The leaves rustled beneath his weight. His muscles ached from the day’s exertion—walking, climbing, fighting, butchering. His body craved rest.

He closed his eyes.

The fire crackled. The waterfall roared outside. A constant, soothing rhythm.

”I know it won’t give me full rest. But I can’t expect luxury here, deep in the forest.”

He shifted. Trying to find a comfortable position on the rough bedding.

”I need to do soldier’s sleep. Like how Dad taught me to sleep in the wilds.”

So he lay there. Sleeping. But with one ear open. His mind kept on the verge of awake and sleeping. With the slightest movement or sound, he would be alert again. Ready. The training ingrained in him by years of his father’s harsh lessons.

The three moons sat in the sky outside his cave entrance. He could see them through the narrow opening. The black moon peered through the darkness—a void in the stars that seemed to suck all light into itself.

The sounds of the forest drifted in. The distant howl of horned rabbits echoed through the trees. Their cries were strange. Unsettling. Nothing like any animal he had heard on Earth.

But that eeriness was not enough to rouse him from his soldier’s sleep.