Kairos didn't wait another second. Without so much as a breather, he hoisted the heavy corpse of the sacred-blood beetle onto his shoulder and started scavenging the forest for usable leaves and wood.
He wasn't exactly a fan of wilderness survival shows, nor did he have any formal knowledge of camping—but making a fire? That was just common sense. And with his current speed and strength, it wasn't much of a task anyway.
In no time, he had a modest campfire burning and was ready to roast the beetle. He set the gleaming shell over the flame, watching the heat begin to work its way through the meat inside.
But just as the aroma began to rise and the shell started to hiss under the heat, a thought cut into his mind like a knife.
"Should I really be eating this?"
He furrowed his brows and quickly pulled the shell away from the flames. The once shiny surface now bore a deep black burn mark.
"Damn, that was close," Kairos muttered, brushing his fingers across the scorched part.
It was then, with the beetle still in hand, that he truly paused to consider the weight of his decision.
He could always hunt other sacred-blood creatures… right? Maybe. Maybe not. Who knew how rare they really were in this part of the Sanctuary?
But what he did know was that this kind of meat—this kind of opportunity—was valuable. More than he could estimate.
If I eat this now, I get stronger... but if I save it and sell it later, I might afford a whole house on a civilized planet... hell, even a small estate if I'm lucky.
But the downside was just as sharp: carrying a sacred-blood corpse around was bound to draw attention. Suspicion. Envy. Enemies.
Everybody was after geno points. Everybody wanted a shortcut to power.
Kairos sat beside the small fire, watching the flames flicker and gradually shrink, the silence of the forest surrounding him once again. Twenty minutes passed just like that, and the fire was little more than embers now.
Finally, with a sigh and a grunt of frustration, he made his decision.
"Ah, fuck it," he muttered, standing up with resolve. "I'm eating the damn thing."
He blew gently on the dying embers and reignited the fire with fresh twigs. Then, carefully, he roasted the meat again—this time keeping the flames low and controlled.
---
"Flesh of black beetle eaten. One sacred geno point gained."
"Flesh of black beetle eaten. One sacred geno point gained."
The voice rang in his head again and again, each time sending a slight jolt of satisfaction through his spine.
Nine times in total.
He had devoured every edible piece of the sacred beast, licking the juices from his fingers until all that remained was the dense, gleaming golden shell.
Kairos leaned back against a tree and stared at it, breathing slowly.
"What can I even do with it?" he said to himself, rotating the heavy carapace in his hands.
It was impressive, sure. Tough, obviously. But without any real handles or grip, and with its smooth surface offering little traction, it wasn't all that useful—not yet.
"A shield without a grip is just a fancy plate," he muttered, tossing it aside gently and letting it rest beside him.
For now, at least, he had gained power. And in this world, that meant he'd bought himself a little more time to live.
After his meal, Kairos's eyelids began to droop heavily, as if the weight of the past three days had finally caught up to him. He tried resisting, standing up and pacing in place for a few seconds, but his body no longer listened.
Fatigue gripped every part of him—his limbs, his back, even his mind felt like it was floating on a heavy cloud of sleep.
Before he even realized it, he had collapsed under the tree, fast asleep with his back leaning against the trunk and the dead sacred beetle's shell resting nearby.
With how worn out his body was, it would have taken a miracle for him to sense any kind of danger during that time.
---
Approximately five hours later.
"Huh? Where am I?" Kairos jolted awake, instantly shifting into a combat stance with his fists raised and legs grounded.
But a few seconds passed with no attack, no movement—only the gentle rustling of leaves above.
Then it came back to him. The beetle. The fight. The campfire.
He let out a long sigh and lowered his hands.
"Guess I finally passed out…" he muttered to himself, brushing dirt from his pants and straightening up. His body still ached, but it was manageable now.
Without wasting more time, he began moving in a new direction. He didn't have a map, or even a sense of where he should be heading. But somewhere deep in his gut, he hoped to stumble across a shelter. Any shelter would do at this point.
What was the name of the shelter where the protagonist lived again? Kairos thought hard, squinting as if it would help him recall. Shit… can't even remember the protagonist's name anymore.
He clicked his tongue and kept walking.
Night had crept over the forest while he slept, and the scenery had turned darker, the shadows deeper. Tall branches twisted above like skeletal fingers, and the occasional chirp or rustle echoed around him. But fear never touched Kairos—not even a hint of it.
He trusted his instincts, his awareness honed from the void. If something tried to sneak up on him, he believed he would sense it coming.
Or at least, he used to think that.
As he tread through the dim forest, something shifted.
A presence. Faint but steady. Then another. And another.
Kairos froze in place, scanning the area, and realized that multiple figures were approaching. At least five. Maybe more.
But... strangely enough, none of them gave off any hostile intent.
Still, Kairos clenched his fists, eyes narrowed. Just in case.