The first rays of dawn pierced the canopy like thin golden spears, waking Haoboi on his high branch. He stretched, feeling the strange new strength in his limbs, and rubbed his empty stomach. "Mushrooms alone not enough," he muttered in the tongue of his village, voice low and practical. "Need steady food. Rice, meat, something real. Can't live like bird forever."
He climbed down the massive tree in silence, Stealth Specialist wrapping him like an old familiar cloak. No branch cracked. No leaf stirred. The forest monsters below—things with too many teeth and eyes—sniffed the air but never turned his way.
On the ground he moved carefully, eyes scanning for anything useful. His Appraisal skill glowed faintly in his vision as he walked. A jagged piece of black stone caught his eye, half-buried near a fallen log. He picked it up, turning it in his calloused hands.
Sharp Obsidian Shard – Natural weapon-grade. Can be used as knife or spearhead. Durability: moderate.
Haoboi nodded to himself. "Looks like I can use this as weapon for now. Better than nothing."
He kept walking, the shard held tight, searching for meat and for any path that might lead out of this endless green hell. The air grew warmer as the sun climbed. Hunger gnawed harder.
Then, in a small clearing dotted with ferns, he saw them—two fat grey rabbits nibbling on glowing clover, ears twitching but unaware. Their bodies were plump, fur soft, and to his Appraisal they shone with promise.
Forest Rabbit – Common but nutritious. Meat restores health and stamina. Hide useful for basic clothing or trade. Value: 30 gold each.
Haoboi whispered, "What a luck."
Stealth Specialist let him step right beside them without a sound. The rabbits never even looked up. With one quick, farmer's motion—same as he once used to slaughter chickens back home—he drove the sharp stone down. Two clean kills. No struggle. No noise.
He knelt and began disassembling them right there, the way his father had taught him years ago: skinning carefully, gutting, separating the good meat from the rest. The hides he rolled neatly. The meat he cut into portions. Everything went into the Storage Bag on his wrist. The bag stayed light, the fresh blood and meat perfectly preserved inside.
He wiped the stone clean on a leaf and kept moving. "Good. Now have real food for tonight."
The forest grew thicker, but his skill kept him invisible. Hours passed. The sun climbed to noon, baking the air. Then his Appraisal flared brighter than before. Ahead, half-hidden under moss and roots, veins of shimmering metal ran through the earth like lightning frozen in stone.
He stopped, eyes wide.
Pure Mithril Ore – Legendary grade. Extremely rare. Used for the finest weapons, armor, and magic tools. Value per kilogram: 8,500 gold.
Pure Adamantite Ore – Divine grade. Nearly unbreakable. Used by ancient heroes and gods. Value per kilogram: 15,000 gold.
There was more—veins wide as his arm, chunks the size of watermelons, a whole deposit that looked untouched for centuries. Haoboi grinned the slow, steady grin of a man who had spent his life turning dirt into life. "If I can dig rice field, I can dig this."
He dropped to his knees and went to work with the sharp stone, prying, chipping, scraping. Sweat rolled down his back. His farmer's muscles burned, but they did not quit. Stealth Specialist kept every clink and scrape muffled; no monster heard a thing. By the time the sun passed noon, he had dug out a small mountain of ore—enough pure Mithril and Adamantite to fill the inside of a big house back in Churachandpur. Every last chunk vanished into the Storage Bag without making it heavier by even a gram.
He stood, breathing hard but satisfied, and brushed dirt from his lungi. "Now I am rich man… if I ever get out of this place."
He started walking again, still hunting for a way out. The trees thinned a little. Birds called overhead—normal birds, not the monstrous ones. Then he heard it: the clear, rushing sound of water. A river.
Haoboi's eyes lit up. Rivers meant villages, roads, people—maybe even a way back toward the world the goddess had spoken of. He broke into a run, feet silent on the moss, the sharp stone still in his hand, the Storage Bag heavy with meat, mushrooms, herbs, and a fortune in legendary metal.
Behind him, the Forbidden Forest kept its secrets. Ahead, the sound of the river grew louder, promising something new