The Anomaly's P Chapter 52: I Miss You, Buddy

Chapter 52: I Miss You, Buddy

I woke up feeling like I hadn’t slept at all. Which, to be fair, I hadn’t.

Not really.

I’d spent the whole night dozing in and out, my eyes snapping open at every little sound. A leaf rustling? Monster. A twig snapping? Definitely monster. My own stomach growling? Embarrassing, but my half-asleep brain couldn’t tell the difference.

Every shadow seed to move, every distant call from so unseen creature sent my heart racing. I’d clutch my pathetic stick tighter, hold my breath, and wait for sothing to burst through the trees and end .

Nothing ever did. But that didn’t make the fear any less real.

Sohow, I was still breathing when morning ca. That counted as a win.

I pushed myself up slowly, groaning like an old man whose joints had decided to retire without asking permission.

Morning light filtered through the trees, soft and golden, painting everything in warm colors. It would have been beautiful if I wasn’t so miserable.

Birds called to each other sowhere in the canopy above, completely indifferent to my suffering. Insects buzzed past, already busy with whatever insects did all day. The jungle was waking up, and it didn’t care one bit about the exhausted idiot struggling to sit upright.

I reached into my pocket—the berries I’d saved from yesterday were still there, slightly squished but edible. I ate them in about three bites, barely tasting them.

Not nearly enough, but it was sothing. My stomach growled in protest, demanding more, but I ignored it. There would be ti to find more food later.

First, I needed water.

I stood up, stretched until my back cracked again, and made my way back to the stream. The path was easier this ti—I’d trampled enough undergrowth yesterday that I could follow my own trail.

The water was still there, clear and cold. I dropped to my knees and drank until my stomach hurt, then drank so more, letting the cold liquid wash away the dryness in my throat. I splashed water on my face, my neck, my arms, trying to scrub off the dirt and sweat that had accumulated.

The scratches on my face stung when the water hit them, but I welcod the pain—it ant I was still alive, still feeling, still here.

I sat there for a mont, staring at my reflection in the water. Dark circles under my eyes. Hair a ss—worse than usual, sohow. Scratches all over my face from running through the jungle last night.

I looked like I’d been through a war and lost.

"This is fucking hard," I muttered. "How do people survive in jungles alone? Like, for real? I’ve been here one day and I already want to go ho."

I thought about Nova.

How he’d always have so sarcastic comnt ready, so annoying remark that sohow made things feel less hopeless.

He’d probably say sothing like, "You look like shit, Host. Beautiful, but covered in shit." And I’d roll my eyes and tell him to shut up, and sohow the weight on my chest would feel a little lighter.

However, there was no voice.

Just the rustle of leaves, the distant call of birds, the buzz of insects going about their day completely indifferent to my loneliness.

I let out a long breath and stared at the water, watching the ripples spread and fade.

Then I noticed them.

Fish. Small and silver, swimming past like they owned the place, completely oblivious to the starving idiot watching them from the bank.

My stomach growled loud enough that I was surprised they didn’t scatter in fear.

Fish. I could eat fish. I could definitely eat fish.

I waited, barely breathing, as more appeared—one, then another, then a whole group of them, swimming around like they had no idea they were currently the number one item on my nu.

How hard can it be?

Turns out? Really hard.

I tried grabbing them with my hands. They slipped away like they were made of grease and spite. I tried using my stick like a spear and missed every ti, the water distorting my aim just enough to make

look like a complete fool.

I tried crouching still, waiting for one to co close, then lunging with everything I had.

The fish moved faster than I could blink.

Flash Instinct tingled in the back of my mind, sharpening my senses and telling

exactly where the fish would be. I lunged exactly where it directed , but my fingers closed on nothing but cold, empty water.

"Are you fucking kidding ?" I stared at the river in disbelief. I had a literal instinct-based skill and I couldn’t catch a single damn fish.

Maybe the skill wasn’t the problem; maybe my body was just too slow to keep up. The fish swam past again, and I could almost hear Nova’s voice in my head: "Maybe the skill isn’t the problem, Host. Maybe you’re just bad."

For the first ti, I actually would have welcod the insult. At least it would have been sothing other than this silence.

"Fuck this," I decided. "I’ll find sothing else to eat."

I stood up, brushed myself off, and kept walking.

_

The stream led

deeper into the jungle.

I followed it for hours, stepping over roots, pushing through bushes, ducking under branches. The scenery never changed—just endless green, endless trees, endless sounds of things I couldn’t see. My legs ached.

My stomach growled constantly. My throat got dry, so I stopped to drink every hour or so, kneeling by the stream and gulping water like I hadn’t seen it in days.

Makes sense, right? Water leads to people. Rivers go to villages, streams go to rivers. Follow the water long enough, and you’ll find sothing eventually.

At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.

In reality, I had no idea if I was even going the right direction. For all I knew, I was walking in circles, following a stream that looped back on itself and led nowhere.

The jungle all looked the sa after a while—sa trees, sa vines, sa oppressive green pressing in from all sides. I could have passed the sa spot three tis and never known it.

The sun was going down. Light faded fast, shadows stretching across the jungle like they were reaching for sothing. The sounds changed too—no more birds, just crickets buzzing, things rustling in the bushes I couldn’t see.

And every now and then, a hoot or a growl that could’ve been an owl or could’ve been sothing that wanted to eat . I had no way of knowing.

I was going to have to spend another night outside.

"I hate this," I muttered, dragging a hand through my matted hair.

I stopped. My skin pricked. Flash Instinct humd in the back of my brain, signaling that sothing was nearby. I turned slowly, scanning the thick undergrowth until I caught a flicker of movent. It was small and quick—brown fur.

A rabbit.

My stomach growled so loud I was sure the thing heard . Food. Real food. at.

However, rabbits were fast, and I’d never caught anything in my life. I didn’t even know where to start. In movies, the hero just throws a rock or sets a clever trap, but I had none of that. I just had a stick and a growing sense of desperation.

Think, Leo. Think.

I looked down at the branch in my hand. It was pathetic—just a random limb I’d picked up, with one end slightly sharpened from rubbing it against stones. It wasn’t a spear; it was barely a weapon. But it was all I had.

I crouched low, letting Flash Instinct guide my weight.

The rabbit hopped forward, then stopped, completely unaware that a hungry idiot was morizing its every move from the bushes. I crept closer, one agonizing step at a ti. My heart pounded so hard I feared it would give

away, but the rabbit kept eating, oblivious.

Suddenly, its ears twitched. It looked around and I froze, holding my breath until it went back to the grass.

I was maybe ten feet away when it finally noticed . Its body tensed, and in that split second, I saw the thought flash in its dark eyes: Run.

"Shit!"

It bolted, and I lunged after it.

Branches whipped my face and roots tried to trip , but I didn’t care. This was my one chance. The rabbit zigged and zagged through the brush, but my sense scread directions in my mind, guiding my feet before I even knew where to step.

Left! I dove toward a hillside, swinging the stick—

The rabbit darted into a small opening in the rocks. Without thinking, I scrambled in after it. The tunnel was dark and cramped, forcing

onto my hands and knees.

I pushed through the narrow gap, rocks scraping my shoulders and dirt falling into my eyes, until the space finally opened up into a small chamber.

The rabbit was cornered. It sat there trembling, and for a mont, I saw myself in it—prey, afraid, and desperate to survive. I raised the stick, my chest tight.

"I’m sorry," I whispered. "But I need this."

I brought it down.

When the struggle was over, I sat in silence, breathing hard. My hands were shaking as I looked at the small, still body in front of . I felt sick, but I had done what I had to.

I had survived.

As my heart rate slowed, I finally took in my surroundings. It was a real cave—maybe ten feet across with dry stone walls and a low ceiling. There were no signs of other animals, no droppings, and no bones.

A revelation hit : this was shelter. It ant I could finally get so real rest without jumping at every rustle in the woods. This wasn’t just a hole in a hill; it was a base.

"This could work," I muttered, a spark of hope rising. "This could actually work."

I dragged the rabbit outside and sat by the cave entrance, staring at the pile of wood I’d gathered. I didn’t have a lighter or matches. I didn’t even have a piece of tal to strike against a rock. All I had were two sticks and a lot of desperation.

I tried the only thing I’d ever seen in movies—the hand drill. I carved a small notch into a flat piece of bark and placed a straight twig inside it. Then, I started to spin.

I twisted that damn stick until my palms felt like they were on fire.

The only thing I could sll was my own sweat and the damp earth. Every ti a tiny wisp of smoke appeared, I’d get too excited and blow too hard, killing the spark before it could even start. My arms throbbed, and my breath ca in ragged gasps.

"Co on," I hissed, my voice cracking. "Just one spark. Please."

Finally, after what felt like hours, a tiny red ember glowed in the nest of dry leaves.

I leaned in, my heart hamring against my ribs, and blew as gently as I could. The ember brightened. A thin line of smoke curled up, followed by a sudden, beautiful flicker of orange.

I almost cried when the first leaf actually caught.

By the ti the flas were steady, the sun had completely vanished. The jungle was a wall of blackness, held back only by my small circle of light.

I tried to cook the at, but I was clueless.

I shoved a branch through the rabbit and held it over the heat, watching the outside turn to black charcoal while the inside stayed cold and raw. The sll of burnt fur and blood made my stomach turn, but the hunger was like a knife in my gut. I didn’t have a choice.

I took a bite and imdiately threw up.

"Fuck," I gasped, wiping my mouth. "That’s awful."

I stared at the ss, fighting the urge to just go to sleep hungry. But my stomach growled again, louder than before.

I took another bite and forced myself to swallow. Then another. Eventually, my body stopped complaining and just accepted the fuel. I ate until there was nothing left and the fire had burned down to glowing embers.

I sat there in the dying light, leaning back against the rough cave wall. For the first ti since waking up in this hell, I felt safe.

"Nova," I said quietly to the shadows. "If you can hear , you glitchy bastard... I caught a rabbit today. With a stick. I actually did it."

Silence.

"I also threw up. But we don’t have to talk about that part." I smiled, just a little.

"I miss you, buddy. Even if you are annoying."

I watched the last sparks fly into the night. Ten years until the Abyss King. Ten years until the end of the world.

...And here I was, hiding in a cave and eating burnt rabbit.

But I was alive. I had survived today, and tomorrow, I’d figure out the rest.

I closed my eyes and let the exhaustion finally take .