5:47 PM.
Tobey glanced at the tactical watch he had swiped from the Supermarket's accessories aisle.
It had been a busy, satisfying day.
Earlier that morning, he had cleared a flat spot of land and set up a massive cabin-style tent—a six-to-twelve-person beast with a screened-in porch. He chose it specifically for the headroom; at seven feet tall, he refused to spend his new life hunching over. To ensure he stayed dry, he rigged a heavy-duty waterproof canopy over the entire structure.
He felt a burst of childish giddiness as he unrolled a thick, queen-sized memory foam mattress inside. He didn't stop there. He raided the bedding aisle for a mountain of soft, high-thread-count pillows and a weighted duvet. He even clipped a high-lumen LED lantern to the ceiling, bathing the interior in a warm, civilized glow.
Outside, he set up his patio. A folding aluminum table stood next to a heavy-duty camping chair. Beside that sat a massive cooler, packed to the brim with ice cubes and premium beer.
But his proudest achievement was the bathroom.
He refused to squat in the bushes like a savage. Using materials from the hardware section, he constructed a private enclosure behind the tent. Inside sat a Thetford Porta Potti—the family-sized model, famous for being sturdy enough to support a full-grown man.
Civility, he decided, started with a proper toilet.
Once camp was set, he built a fire ring using smooth river stones and cooked a hearty brunch. Afterward, he tried his hand at fishing. He grabbed a top-tier rod from the Supermarket and cast a line into the crystal-clear water.
He caught absolutely nothing.
The fish in this river were apparently smarter than they looked. Annoyed but unbothered—since he had infinite food anyway—he tossed the rod back into his Storage and retreated to the tent for a nap.
He woke up late in the afternoon, refreshed, and decided to do something productive: gathering firewood.
He didn't realize how enjoyable physical labor could be until now. With the Vitality of the Ancients, carrying heavy logs felt as effortless as carrying pillows. He ended up making several trips, humming a tune as he piled the wood high.
Now, the sun was beginning to dip, casting long shadows through the trees.
Tobey dropped the last armful of dried oak on the ground and sat on a stump. He picked up a handsaw and began cutting the larger logs into manageable pieces.
Rrrsh. Rrrsh. The rhythmic sound of the saw was the only noise in the peaceful clearing.
"I wonder what I should have for dinner," he mused aloud, the sawdust falling around his boots. "Maybe steak? Or a stew? Or both?"
*****
[ BREAKING NEWS! ]
Award-winning actress Peony Haven caught leaving the vehicle of Senator Arthur Beinmur!
Yesterday at 8:30 PM, actress Peony Haven was photographed exiting a luxury sedan in the parking lot of the Mortil Hotel. The vehicle has been confirmed to belong to Senator Beinmur, who is currently running for re-election. As the public is well aware, the Senator is a married man. Is this merely a coincidence, or has this illicit affair been hidden in the shadows for a long time?
Peony couldn't finish reading the article. A scream tore through her throat, raw with frustration, and she hurled the tablet onto her bed. It bounced harmlessly against the mattress, mocking her with its glowing screen.
She had been hiding in her house for over a month. A cascade of scandals had dragged her name through the mud, destroying in weeks what had taken her years to build. She had lost the lead role in an upcoming drama. The audition for a prestigious stage play had been canceled without explanation.
And the worst part? It was a setup.
Her manager—the person sworn to protect her—was the one who had thrown her to the wolves. That bastard had tricked her into that meeting with the Senator, knowing exactly what it would look like. Now, instead of support, she received thousands of hate comments daily.
And the death threats.
"Die, homewrecker."
"You don't deserve to live."
Peony curled into a ball, gripping her hair. Her family was already suffering the fallout. She couldn't face them; she couldn't bear the pity in their eyes, or worse, the "I told you so."
She had started as a child star. She had climbed the ladder with blood, sweat, and tears, reaching the tier of veteran actors through sheer talent. But the old proverb rang true in her ears: "When a fruit tree is abundant, people throw stones to make the fruit fall."
They weren't throwing stones because she was wrong. They were throwing them because they envied her height.
She turned off her phone to silence the barrage of notifications. Her siblings would be calling soon, ready to lecture her about how right they were—that Showbiz was a chaotic world full of demons waiting to devour the weak.
"I need to leave," she whispered, her chest feeling tight. "I can't breathe here."
She wanted to run away. A secret vacation. A place where no lenses could find her.
She opened her laptop and pulled up Miggle (google) Maps. She scrolled away from the cities, away from the resorts, until she found a dense patch of green in the semi-countryside region of Motahowk. Zooming in, she spotted a faint blue line cutting through the forest. A secret river. No roads. No landmarks.
"Perfect," she murmured.
She moved quickly. She packed her camping equipment, heavy clothes, and essentials into a large rucksack.
She waited until the sun had fully set. Under the cover of darkness, she pulled a beanie low over her forehead and covered her face with a black mask. Slipping out the back gate of her garden, she walked fast, head down, flinching at every shadow.
Please... please no paparazzi. Just let me go.
She reached the main road, gasping for air, sweat prickling her skin under the heavy disguise. She waved down an approaching Axis(taxi) .
The vehicle slowed to a halt. The driver popped the trunk, helping her load her heavy bag. As she slid into the backseat, she looked out the rear window, her heart hammering against her ribs.
The street was empty. No flashing cameras. No suspicious vans.
She let out a shaky breath.
But she wasn't taking any chances. Every hour, she forced the driver to stop, paid the fare, and hailed a new Axis. It was expensive—draining her dwindling savings—and exhausting, but she didn't care. She would change cars a dozen times if it meant shaking off any potential tail.
She was going to that river. She was going to find peace, even if she had to disappear from the face of Woolace to get it.
Peony slept through most of the journey, jerking awake only when the driver announced they had reached the countryside transfer station. But the journey wasn't over. The Motahowk forest was deep in the remote territories, requiring another twelve hours on a public bus to reach the drop-off point.
By the time she stepped off the bus, her legs felt like lead. The exhaustion was bone-deep, a physical weight dragging her down. Yet, in a twisted way, she welcomed the pain. The soreness in her muscles was a distraction; it was loud enough to drown out the scandals and the stress screaming in the back of her mind.
Her original plan had been to check into a hotel first to rest. But as she checked her map, she realized her mistake. The forest of Motahowk lay before the next urban cluster. If she went to a hotel, she'd have to double back tomorrow.
She had no choice. She had to enter the woods now.
It was already 5:30 PM when she started trailing into the tree line. The sun was sinking, casting long, distorted shadows against the dirt path.
"Thank God for technology," she whispered, gripping her phone tightly.
Woolace was a world of advanced connectivity; even here, deep in the mountains, the cell signal was strong. The blue dot on her Miggle Maps pulsed steadily, showing a faint hiking trail that led toward the river.
Thank God, I'm almost there.
She adjusted her grip on her heavy luggage. It was a rolling suitcase—completely impractical for this terrain. The wheels clattered loudly over rocks and roots, snagging on the underbrush, forcing her to yank it free with gritty frustration.
Crunch. Clatter. Snap.
The noise echoed in the quiet forest.
Suddenly, she stopped.
A sound cut through the noise of her own struggle. It wasn't the wind. It was a low, wet grunt.
Oink?
"A pig?" she whispered, confusion overriding her fear for a split second.
She turned her head slowly toward the dense brush on her left.
There, emerging from the shadows, was a group of dark shapes. They weren't farm pigs. They were wild boars—massive, covered in coarse black bristles, with curved yellow tusks jutting from their lower jaws. Their beady eyes locked onto her, gleaming with aggression.
Peony froze. Her blood turned to ice. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't run. She was petrified, rooted to the spot like a statue.
The largest boar, a beast the size of a motorcycle, scraped its hoof against the dirt. It lowered its head, aiming its tusks directly at her stomach.
Squeal!
With a terrifying roar, it charged.
The ground shook as the beast thundered toward her. Peony's vision tunneled. The terror was too much for her exhausted body to handle. Her knees buckled, and the world tilted sideways.
She didn't see the flash of movement from the trees. She didn't see her savior.
Blackness took her before the impact ever came.
Rrrsh. Rrrsh.
Tobey stopped sawing mid-stroke. His ear twitched.
Through the ambient noise of the forest, he heard it—heavy, frantic thudding against the dirt. The rhythm was uneven. Something was running. Then came the unmistakable sound of dry twigs snapping under rolling wheels?
Squeal!
A terrified feminine scream cut through the air, followed instantly by the guttural, aggressive grunt of a beast.
A pig? In the wild?
Tobey didn't hesitate. Boar.
He dropped the saw and snatched his long serrated knife from the table. His legs moved before his brain even issued the command.
Whoosh.
The wind roared in his ears. The trees blurred into green streaks. He realized with a jolt that he was moving faster than any human should be capable of—covering a hundred meters in the blink of an eye.
He burst into the clearing just as the massive alpha boar began its charge.
The beast was a tank of muscle and bristles, barreling toward a woman collapsed on the ground. The rest of the pack circled nervously, waiting for the kill.
Tobey didn't slow down. He didn't think. He became a projectile.
Just as the boar lowered its tusks to gore her, Tobey launched himself into the air. He twisted his hips and drove both feet into the side of the beast's thick neck.
CRACK.
The impact sounded like a car crash.
The massive boar was lifted off its hooves and sent flying sideways. It smashed into the exposed roots of a tree with a sickening thud, squealing in high-pitched agony. It scrambled, hooves scrabbling against the dirt, trying to wobble back to its feet to counterattack.
"Oh no, you don't," Tobey growled.
His hand blurred. He threw the long knife with the precision of a man who had spent a lifetime in the underworld.
Thunk.
The blade was a silver flash before it buried itself deep into the boar's cheek, piercing straight through the skull and exiting the other side. The beast collapsed instantly, dead before it hit the ground.
The rest of the pack flinched, turning their beady eyes toward the new threat.
Tobey didn't back down. He flared his chest, channeling the terrifying aura of a man who had survived the Syndicate. He spread his arms wide and let out a roar that shook the leaves.
"SCRAAAAAM!"
It wasn't just a shout; it was pure killing intent.
The boars squealed in terror, scrambling over each other to escape. In seconds, the clearing was empty, save for the dead alpha and the unconscious woman.
Tobey let out a breath, the adrenaline fading. He turned his attention to the figure on the ground.
He walked over slowly, his footsteps silent. He squatted down beside her, his large shadow covering her form.
"She's beautiful," he whispered, the words slipping out involuntarily.
Even covered in dust and sweat, with a beanie half-covering her face, her features were striking. He reached out, gently sweeping a stray lock of hair away from her cheek to check her vitals.
He pressed two fingers to her neck. Her pulse was steady. Her breathing was peaceful, though shallow.
She just passed out from fear, he realized with relief.
He did a quick visual scan for injuries. Her elbows and palms were scraped and bloody from the fall, but nothing looked broken. She was lucky. If he had arrived a second later, those tusks would have gutted her.
Tobey stood up, looking around the empty forest with a frown.
Why is she here?
He strained his ears, listening for other footsteps or voices. Nothing. Just the wind and the river.
She's alone.
His eyes landed on the objects scattered nearby. A sleek smartphone lying in the dirt—looking almost identical to the ones on Earth—and a massive, rolling suitcase.
He shook his head in disbelief. Who drags a rolling suitcase into a wild forest?
He checked the sky. It was getting dark, and the temperature was dropping. He couldn't leave her here. But he also couldn't leave the massive carcass of the alpha boar rotting in the open. That was hundreds of pounds of premium, organic pork. In his old life, wasting food was a sin; in this life, it was just stupid.
"Waste not, want not," he muttered.
He walked over to the dead beast and yanked his knife out of its skull, wiping the blood on the boar's fur.
He waved his right hand over the massive carcass.
Zip.
The giant boar vanished instantly, sucked into his Soul Storage.
He turned his attention to the suitcase. Why drag it? He waved his hand again, and the heavy luggage disappeared into the void as well.
Now, his hands were free.
Effortlessly, he scooped the woman up into his arms. She felt light as a feather against his massive frame—a fragile thing compared to the monster he had just dispatched.
"Let's get you cleaned up," he murmured, adjusting her so her head rested against his shoulder.
He walked back through the trees toward the warm glow of his camp, moving silently through the darkening woods. Tonight, he had fresh meat for the freezer, and an unexpected guest for the spare room.