The First Transmigrat

[Day 281].

The way I thought about Aldrick had changed.

I still acted the same. Spoke the same. Smiled when needed.

But something deep in me had shifted—subtle, almost silent. Like a cracked bone hidden beneath the skin.Now, every step I took was measured. Every conversation planned.

I began to prepare.

I returned to an old project I'd abandoned—the crude crossbow. Back when I'd gained my bear form, I'd thought I no longer needed it. That brute strength was enough.

But now, no amount of power gave me peace of mind.

I couldn't sleep properly anymore.

My nights were restless, my dreams heavy and damp like the cave ceiling dripping water onto stone.

I reduced my sleep time. Started going out earlier. Hunting longer. Staying out later.

And always—always—I kept the golden ring and the black ring close to me.

Hidden. Secured. Wrapped tightly in cloth and bound to my side.

Even in sleep.

Even when bathing.

They never left me.

I began experimenting more.

I improved the spear. Rubbed its shaft with a sap I'd found from a certain vine—it created a burning sensation when it touched bare skin. Not lethal, but enough to cause hesitation in close combat.

[Day 285.]

I began preparing for the inevitable.

Aldrick was kind. Helpful. Calm.

But too calm.

I tried crafting a bow using the tendons of the beasts I hunted. Failed.

The tension was uneven. I didn't know enough yet.

But I did succeed in making a handful of arrows. Their shafts crude. Their tips formed from chipped stone. I struck rock against rock until the edges split, sharp and uneven. Primitive, but deadly.

I didn't show them to Aldrick.

Just like I never showed him the rings. Or my full transformation. Or my real plans.

[Day 290.]

I started drilling a single technique.

Piercing.

No mentor. No guidance.

Just repetition.

I stabbed the spear into trees. Into the ground. Into logs. Over and over. Thousands of times.

Three hours a day. Minimum.

Until my shoulder burned and my palms bled.

I told myself I wasn't training to fight Aldrick. I told myself it was for the monsters.

But even I didn't believe that anymore.

I also worked more on the bow. Even if it was crude, it increased my options. Increased the gap between life and death.

Most of my protective gear from the old world was ruined now.Burned, torn, worn down to rags.

Only the helmet remained. Scratched, but intact.

I wore it more often.

Even when I slept.

I refined the spear again and again. Changed its balance. Smoothed its grip. Replaced the head when it dulled.

I crafted spares—two more. In case one snapped.

Rain began falling.

A reminder.

This world didn't care about my progress. It didn't care about my will. It kept moving. Kept trying to drown me.

[Day 295.]

I spoke more with Aldrick.

Deliberately.

I wasn't trying to bond.

I was trying to learn.

How to speak better. How to manipulate tone. Rhythm. Silence.

Aldrick was articulate. He spoke slowly, with confidence. Words like tools.

I tried mimicking him. Watching how he moved his mouth. Studying pauses.

Communication was survival. Especially if I ever had to lie.

Especially to him.

Day 299.

I encountered a group of humans in the woods.

Six of them.

Tired. Dirty. Hungry.

Half of them were missing—judging by the fresh wounds and haunted looks.

They told me they were headed to a shelter in the south.

That caught my attention immediately.

So there was a shelter. A real one.

No wonder I heard vehicle sounds when I first came here.

They mentioned they'd encountered a predator. Some massive beast. They didn't want to describe it in detail.

I didn't press.

They were hiding something—but I had learned by now: when people deflect, you don't confront. You adapt.

I asked other questions instead. Light ones.

They revealed they had seen other groups. Mostly deep in the forest.

Roaming. Searching. Hunting.

Were they also transmigrators?

Or something else?

I left before dark. The conversation had given me what I needed.

[Day 300.]

A year.

It had been one full year since I arrived here.

But I didn't celebrate.

No fire. No feast. No moment of reflection.

I just opened the transmigration group chat, saw the floating panel hover above my hand, and typed:

"Still alive."

Then I closed it.

And picked up my spear.

I practiced until the muscles in my back felt like stone. Until my fingers could barely hold the shaft.

I was desperate.

I couldn't stay in bear form forever.

I needed to get stronger at the base level. Physically. Mentally. Strategically.

[Day 310.]

A pack of wolves. Twelve of them.

I transformed. Ripped them apart.

One by one. No hesitation. No fear.

Four white crystals dropped.

Not much. But something.

I cracked one open. Ate it.

Felt the warmth spread through me. Subtle. Not immediate.

But it stayed. Like kindling beneath the skin.

[Day 315.]

I ate another crystal.

Then untransformed. Returned to my drills.

Spear. Bow. Footwork.

No instructions. Just instinct.

[Day 325.]

Ate the last two crystals.

Nothing major changed—except for my energy levels.

I could go longer. Push further. Sleep less.

My stamina was increasing. Quietly.

Like a hidden stat being raised.

[Day 330.]

I started practicing karate.

Not properly. I didn't remember much.

Just a few stances, basic kicks and punches I'd learned back on Earth during a summer course.

But it was something.

Structure. Control. A reminder that I was still human, not just a beast with claws.

Every day after that—more training.

[Day 345.]

Still training.

Still hiding.

Still preparing.

[Day 350.]

Practiced archery again.

My hands were steadier now.

The arrows flew truer, even if the bow was still crude.

One shot grazed a rabbit's leg. That was enough.

Progress.

[Day 360.]

It rained heavily.

I stayed inside the cave. Worked on the spare spears. Re-wrapped the rings.

Felt the cave tighten around me.

Like a womb. Like a coffin.

[Day 365.]

One year.

Twelve months.

Three hundred sixty-five days.

Aside from my own physical transformation—growing fit, lean, more muscular—I still looked like a beggar.

Clothes in tatters. Beard wild. Skin burned by the wind.

The only mark of progress was in my eyes.

Sharper. Focused. Untrusting.

I opened the group chat again.Typed slowly:

"Successfully survived for a year."

Then closed the panel.

No reply came.

I didn't expect one.

...

I sat by the fire and watched the flickering flame dance on the rings beside me.

The golden one pulsed faintly.

The black one felt cold as ice.

I didn't know what they were. What they did.But I knew this much:

They mattered.

And I would keep them from Aldrick at all costs.

Because this world didn't just test your strength.

It tested your secrets.

And the more I survived, the more I realized:

Aldrick had too many.

And I was running out of time.