By the seventh day, I had to admit, this forest wasn't entirely terrible. Sure, I had almost died a dozen tis, narrowly escaped becoming lunch for creatures with way too many teeth, and figured out which glowing fruits weren't poisonous through the ti-honored thod of "eat it and hope it's not fatal." But, you know what? It wasn't so bad.
It was dangerous, sure. But manageable. I wasn't exactly Bear Grylls, but I'd made it this far without getting completely devoured or stepping into so weird Qi-infused quicksand.
Which is why, instead of running straight for the city—like any normal person with half a brain would do—I found myself staring up at a particularly large tree, seriously considering building a treehouse. Yeah, you heard that right. A treehouse.
"Why not?" I muttered, nodding to myself. "Everyone's in such a rush to get to the city. But here? I'm the king of the jungle. Well... not exactly a king. More like a very nervous baron."
The logic was sound, in my opinion. Why race into a city full of scheming cultivators, when I could stay here, far from human drama, and just... survive? Out here, I knew the rules: don't get eaten, don't eat glowing fruit unless you're feeling lucky, and avoid ticking off the local wildlife. In the city? Who knows. Politics, intrigue, backstabbing—and most importantly, I have no fucking money. I'd probably end up as so rich dude's errand boy or worse, cannon fodder in so cultivator's ego war.
So yeah, treehouse it was.
I spent the better part of the afternoon gathering materials: branches, vines, and so thick leaves for cover. The forest was like a Ho Depot for the resourceful. I even found so sturdy wood that I was convinced had mystical properties—probably. Or maybe it was just really solid. Hard to tell.
By mid-afternoon, I was high up in the tree, tying vines and branches together like so makeshift architect of the wild. I had no blueprint, but who needs a plan when you've got determination? A few knots here, so extra support there. It wasn't going to be a five-star treehouse, but hey, it beat sleeping on the ground with the wolves. Seriously, I need to quit with the wolf jokes.
That's when the system chid in with its usual impeccable timing.
Alert: A beast wave will occur in 48 hours. The strength of the beasts will significantly increase, and they will be moving toward the outskirts of the forest.
I froze, halfway through tying a vine. "Wait, what? A what wave?"
Survival chances: Non-existent.
I sighed, leaning my forehead against the tree trunk. "Of course. Of course, there's a beast wave. Why wouldn't there be? Right when I'm finally settling in, the forest decides to throw a curveball."
The system, as usual, offered no further explanation. It was probably watching struggle with a sense of satisfaction.
"Okay, Michael. No need to panic. It's just a wave of beasts, right? Nothing you can't handle." I paused. "Oh, who am I kidding? I'm so screwed."
But abandoning the treehouse now felt... wrong. Sure, the city might be safer (if you could call a place full of cultivators "safe"), but I wasn't exactly eager to deal with the city's version of danger. Out here, it was simpler: survive the beasts, avoid the poisonous plants, maybe learn to talk to the birds—though they probably wouldn't be very chatty.
And let's be real, the treehouse was kind of cool. I could imagine myself, lounging up here like so untouchable forest king, watching as the wave of beasts passed by below. Maybe I'd even get a hammock going. Yeah, that'd be nice.
I spent the next hour reinforcing the structure, trying to make sure it wouldn't collapse the mont a gust of wind hit. The treehouse was coming along nicely. It had a flat platform, so makeshift walls, and—if you squinted—almost looked like it belonged in one of those survivalist shows. Almost.
As I admired my handiwork, the system chid in again.
Reminder: The beast wave begins in 47 hours.
"Yeah, yeah, I got it. Beast wave incoming. Thanks for the heads-up, really helpful." I rolled my eyes and tied another vine.
Then a thought struck . I should probably set up so defenses, right? I an, it's not like I could just wish the beasts away (though that would've been fantastic). Traps—traps could work. So sharp sticks, a few pitfalls... maybe a bear trap, if I could figure out how to make one.
Nah, these beasts aren't like Earth animals. They'd probably see a trap and laugh.
"Umm, I'll just make so if I can, just in case."
"System, is there a tutorial for trap-making?" I asked, only half-joking.
You will need to use a wish to acquire such knowledge.
I threw my hands up in mock defeat. "Of course. Of course, I need a wish. How could I forget?"
This was perfect. I had 47 hours to either finish my treehouse or figure out so kind of defense plan. But honestly, I wasn't the running type. I was sticking to my guns—or rather, to my vines—and staying right here. I'd deal with the beast wave when it ca. How bad could it be?
As the sun set and the forest grew darker, the atmosphere thickened with an eerie silence. The kind of quiet that makes your skin crawl. But abandoning the treehouse still didn't sit right with .
"Alright, Michael," I muttered, climbing back up to continue building, "you're going to make it through this. Just stay calm, don't panic, and maybe think of so last-minute escape plan... just in case."
The next morning, I woke up to rustling leaves and distant growls. Not exactly the peaceful wake-up call I wanted, but hey, at least I wasn't being eaten alive. Stretching on my platform, I glanced up at the morning sun filtering through the canopy.
"Just 24 hours left until the beast wave. No big deal. Nothing to stress over," I said, trying to convince myself. "You've got a treehouse. You've got... so sticks. You'll be fine."
Another roar echoed in the distance, much closer this ti.
"Okay, maybe slightly less fine."
But no turning back now. This treehouse was going to be my fortress. My humble abode. My... not-so-secure shelter during a once-in-a-century beast wave.
The cooldown is over. Wish is available.
Finallyyy. These seven days felt like seven years.
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