Three whole days had passed since Jett had fainted, oblivious to the fact that he had survived a dangerous situation. While he was unconscious, he had no idea what had happened in the town afterward. Before he fainted, he had been worried that other predators would attack him while he was vulnerable. What transpired afterward would be a surprise to him. In the memories he had inherited, it seemed that all the townspeople had been killed.
However, while he was unconscious, one hour of silence enveloped the town, and soon survivors began to emerge after the terrifying laughter of the Gibbon had ceased. Those few survivors looked at their village with mournful expressions. Some who had seen the Gibbon's body were scared, but upon noticing that the creature's head had been severed, they regained their courage.
Jett's body lay on the ground, covered in blood. The townspeople initially thought of him as just another victim. However, they wanted to leave as soon as they heard a loud growl. The sound terrified them, making them think it was the Gibbon returning. When they listened to a second growl, they realized it was coming from the boy's bloodied body. The thought that Jett was the one who had killed the Gibbon never crossed their minds. They simply assumed that a hunter had come, killed the Gibbon, and then left, with Jett being another victim who had been spared. They had encountered a few hunters before, many with varying personalities, and believed this particular one preferred to avoid attention.
It was the fear of other Gibbons that prevented them from thinking clearly. They hurriedly motioned for each other to leave town, too scared to stay. The memory of the recent attack was still fresh in their minds. They were accustomed to occasional beast attacks, but this one was different; they had never seen or experienced anything like it. Those few who had survived decided to move to larger cities, where they believed the chances of a beast attack would be lower. After all, their town was too small.
On the third day, just as the sun reached its highest point in the sky, Jett opened his eyes while lying on a bed. His body felt stiff, but he quickly realized it was simply from waking up and being motionless, not the unsettling feeling of being disconnected from his own body. Stretching his arms and torso to get his blood flowing, Jett looked around cautiously. The room he was in was unassuming and straightforward, with a few plants near the window and some wardrobes for clothes.
He could hear distant voices speaking in soft tones. His previous clothes had been removed, and he was now dressed in simple white shorts and a white T-shirt. As he fully awakened, an intense hunger hit him, causing a loud growl to escape from his stomach.
"Oh, it looks like you're awake and hungry," a gentle woman's voice said.
Jett could smell the comforting aroma of soup, which triggered memories that didn't belong to him. An elderly, wrinkled woman entered his line of sight. Her hair was gray with age, and her face was a tapestry of experience. As she came into view, Jett was flooded with images of an elderly woman holding him, giving him candy, and cooking soup for him. He understood that these memories were not his own but belonged to the previous Jett.
The older woman was Jett's paternal grandmother. He searched his memories and recalled that she lived in the same town as Jett's parents, but in a separate home. Jett would often visit her to play. The present-day Jett was surprised to find her alive. In his memories, he recalled that she had trouble moving around. Realizing he had been silent for too long, Jett quickly spoke up.
"Grandmother, how are you...alive?" Jett knew his question was unusual for a child. His behavior was different from that of the previous Jett he remembered. In those memories, he had been brave and willing to help others. When he witnessed someone being bullied, he would rush in to defend them, showing incredible courage. No matter how many times he was hit, he would not cry out. But when he returned home or was with his grandmother, he would break down in tears, expressing the pain he felt. Beneath all that bravery, he was still just a child. If it had been the old Jett, he would have cried about missing his parents.
His grandmother didn't question Jett's tone or behavior. From her perspective, the light in Jett's usually vibrant eyes had faded. What remained was a deep, empty void that swallowed any hint of brightness. His eyes were a lifeless black, matching his pitch-black hair. She could see the emotional damage that witnessing his parents' death had inflicted upon him.
"How did I stay alive?" she asked, guessing what he really wanted to know.
"Ye...yeah, did the monkeys not go after you?" Jett replied.
"They did... but an old woman like me has no fear of death. When they came for me, I sat and urged them to get it over with. I guess they decided to let me go after not seeing fear in my eyes," she explained.
"Ah, is this what you told me about last time? That I shouldn't mind if someday you die... because you had already prepared yourself?" Jett asked, reflecting on that memory. He was taken aback; humanity was stubborn, and people rarely changed. Jett guessed the old lady didn't want to burden her family anymore. From his memories, Jett often brought money from his parents to his grandmother. A soft, gentle smile appeared on her face.
"Yes, exactly. However, I will stay alive long enough to watch you grow up. Now, enough of that. You have been asleep for three days; you must be starving. I made you some soup because eating solid food isn't good after not eating for so long," said the elderly woman, her grandmotherly instincts taking over.
Jett silently took the soup his grandmother had made and began to eat. As he ate, he thought about what he needed to do, such as finding information about this world and the hunter exam his previous self wanted to take. He wasn't sure he had a goal yet; without his memories, he wondered what he truly wanted to achieve.
It was clear that he would follow the training plan his other self had set for him. Getting stronger was essential in any world where power existed. However, losing his memories left him without a sense of purpose. Right now, he felt like a completely new person; he didn't know his likes or dislikes. What kind of person was he? Was he a hero, a villain, or something else entirely? These questions swirled in his mind as he ate.
"Right, Grandmother, where are we? Are we still in town?" Jett asked, eager to know if they had stayed or left; it had been three days.
"No, we left that town. A hunter investigated why the gibbons abandoned their territory. He informed us that an unidentified creature had killed most of the gibbons. We could no longer remain there; the ecosystem was in disarray, and it was likely that more monsters could attack," she replied.
Jett understood her reasoning. When a predator high in the food chain dies, the next most powerful creature often tries to take over that territory. In doing so, they might expand it, and their food search could lead them back to the town.
"Where are we now, then?" Jett asked.
"I returned to my childhood home, Whale Island. The house isn't large, but it should be enough for us," she said. Jett didn't mind where he lived; his training didn't require a specific location. The soup had been great, and his stomach agreed. As he handed the soup bowl to his elderly grandmother, a sense of guilt washed over him. This woman wasn't his grandmother, but he needed a place to stay. He had prepared himself to live in the wild by hunting, but now that he had a living relative, he didn't have to worry about accommodations or food. It was this kind of thinking that made him feel guilty; he was taking advantage of an elderly woman who had lost all her relatives. Shaking his head, Jett resolved to move forward, recognizing he had no choice but to cling to this opportunity.
"Grandmother, I will become stronger. I will also take the hunter exam," Jett declared. The old lady glanced at him and then walked out of the room. Jett wasn't sure what she was thinking, but he understood he needed to follow his path to find himself.