The berries were a vortex of temptation and terror. To stop felt like losing momentum, like admitting defeat to his own weakness. But the hollow shriek in his gut was a more immediate command than any strategy.
"Okay," Ali breathed, the word a surrender. "We do the test. But we don't stop."
He moved quickly, his fingers trembling as he reached for the bush. He ignored the thorns pricking his skin. He plucked the plumpest, darkest berries, a frantic, greedy harvest. He shoved them into the deep pockets of his black hoodie, the fabric quickly staining with dark purple juice. He filled both pockets until they bulged, a precious, potentially poisonous hoard.
"Step one. Skin contact." He selected a single berry, crushed it between his thumb and forefinger, and smeared the vivid juice onto the inside of his wrist and, following the protocol, cautiously dabbed a tiny bit on his lower lip. It felt cool. It smelled faintly sweet, with a tangy, earthy undertone.
[Step 1 Initiated. 15-minute observation period begins.]
Recommendation: Continue travel. Do not let the test halt progress.
He didn't need telling twice. He wiped his stained fingers on his pants and started walking again, his eyes constantly flicking to his wrist as he moved. The path continued its gentle climb. The world was reduced to the rhythm of his steps, the weight of the berries in his pockets, and the silent countdown in his mind.
After fifteen minutes that felt like an hour, his wrist and lip showed no redness, no itching, no swelling.
"Step two," he announced, his mouth already watering. He fished out another berry, smaller this time. He placed a tiny fragment of the pulp on the tip of his tongue.
A burst of flavor—intensely sweet, then sharply tart, with a weird, almost peppery aftertaste. It was nothing like a blueberry. It was alien. He held it there, his heart hammering. Five minutes. No numbness. No burning. Just the strange, lingering taste.
[Step 2 Cleared. Proceed to Step 3: Minimal Consumption.]
He swallowed the tiny fragment. It went down like a seed of anxiety. The two-hour observation period had begun.
Now, the walk became a different kind of torture. Every slight gurgle of his stomach, every fleeting wave of lightheadedness, was potentially a symptom. He was a prisoner marching toward his own verdict, carrying the evidence in his pockets.
To distract himself, he focused on the path. It was becoming better defined. The encroaching seedlings were fewer here. It was used. Not daily, perhaps, but regularly. He saw another footprint—this one booted, human-sized, but worn and blurred by time.
Hope, a fragile, frightened thing, began to stir alongside the fear of poison. The path was real. It was used by people. People who wore boots.
An hour into his observation period, the path crested a rise and began to descend into a shallow, wooded valley. And there, as if placed by a merciful dungeon master, a slender thread of silver cut across the path—a tiny, clear stream, no wider than his arm span, burbling over stones.
Water. Clean, flowing water.
He didn't need the System's prompt. He was on his knees in seconds, drinking deeply, cupping handful after handful to his mouth, washing the strange berry taste and the dust of fear from his tongue. He drank until he was full, the cold clarity of it feeling like the first pure thing he'd encountered in this world.
[Hydration Status: Restored to Functional Levels.]
Note: Water will not offset caloric deficit, but will improve cognitive and physical function marginally.
The final hour of the observation period was a slow, tense descent into the valley. The forest was quieter here, the trees taller, the air still. He felt no cramps. No nausea. Just the ever-present hunger, now sharpened by the nearness of the berries in his pockets.
Finally, the two-hour mark passed.
[Edibility Test: Full Observation Period Complete.]
Result: No adverse physiological reactions detected.
Conclusion: Based on the available data and the staged test, the purple berries are likely non-toxic to your biology. Risk of long-term or cumulative effects remains unknown. Consumption approval granted for a limited quantity.
Likely non-toxic. It wasn't a guarantee. It was a probability. But it was the best odds he'd had all day.
He didn't sit down. He didn't make a ceremony of it. Walking steadily, he pulled a handful of berries from his pocket. They were bruised, their juice staining his palm a deep violet. He looked at them for a second—his first meal in another world.
Then he shoved them into his mouth.
The flavor exploded again—sweet, tart, peppery. The texture was a mix of firm skin and soft pulp. They were seedy. They were incredible. He ate them by the handful, barely chewing, the sugar hitting his bloodstream like a weak, welcome drug. He didn't stop until both pockets were empty and his hands and mouth were stained a murderer's purple.
It wasn't enough. The hunger was still there, a deep hole only partially filled. But the sharp, debilitating edge was gone. He felt a trickle of energy, a faint clearing of the fog in his head.
[Physiological Note: Simple sugars absorbed. Energy levels rising from 'critical' to 'very low.' Tremors should reduce. Maintain pace.]
He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, leaving a purple smear on the black fabric. He was no longer just a starving fugitive. He was a fugitive who had successfully foraged. A tiny, monumental victory.
The path led down into the heart of the valley. The stream crossed it again, wider now. And on the far side of the stream, the path didn't just continue.
It forked.
One branch, more worn, followed the stream downstream to the left. The other, fainter, curved up and out of the valley to the right.
Ali stood at the junction, the taste of alien berries on his tongue, his pockets stained with their proof. He had followed the path to a choice. The gamer in him recognized it instantly: a branching quest line.
He looked left, then right. "System," he said, the word no longer a croak. "Analysis. Which way?"