The Search For Water And Resolve

A/n: Please skip the first 14 chapters. The first 14 chapters are just something I wrote will I was a kid but now I have decided to actually consider making it a serious story.

It had been three long months since I found myself stranded in this unfamiliar place. Despair had consumed me, tears and depression haunting my every waking moment as I awaited the embrace of death. But now, something within me stirred, a newfound determination to face the reality that I could no longer return, and I must forge a life here in this age.

To provide some context, I hailed from the year 2156 and was pursuing a degree in a college that hardly carried any prestige. The opportunity to volunteer as one of the first passengers on the inaugural commercial time machine enticed me primarily due to the financial compensation offered, rather than any profound belief in the grandeur of the experience.

Time travel, a concept that had been discovered half a century ago, remained primarily within the domain of the military. It was widely accepted that traveling backward in time was an impossibility. Yet, with enough speed and the surpassing of matter's particle nature by its wave nature, it became possible for a body to traverse different worlds existing in parallel timelines, corresponding to our ancient or future timelines.

When the chance to participate in Timex's first commercial time travel journey presented itself, I was elated. The prospect of being among the first to venture into this realm commercially held a certain allure, not to mention the promised financial reward. However, my initial excitement was soon quelled upon learning that I was competing against one hundred other volunteers for only fifty available spots. Doubt crept in, fueled by a lifetime of doubting my own luck.

By some stroke of fate, I managed to secure a place among the chosen few. Looking back now, I often wish I hadn't. Exhausted from sleep deprivation, as excitement coursed through my veins, the entire ordeal quickly turned into a monumental hassle.

And then, everything spiraled downward. The time machine malfunctioned, leaving me trapped in this unfamiliar timeline with no way of returning. For three arduous months, I isolated myself within the confines of the machine, gradually losing hope. However, a flicker of resilience sparked within me, reigniting my will to survive, prompting me to embark on a quest for water.

I trekked through the dense forest, driven by my desperate search for this essential lifeline. Days had passed since I last bathed, and the stress-eating during my months of confinement had led to an unwelcome weight gain. Fatigue weighed heavy upon me as I stumbled over a vine, falling hard against the forest floor. Weary and ready to abandon my journey, a distant sound caught my attention.

It was the faint, melodic melody of a river, whispering through the trees. Ignoring the branches that lashed against my face and the sharp thorns that left shallow cuts, I focused solely on reaching my destination. With newfound determination, I pushed forward, compelled by the tantalizing promise of water.

As I breached the forest's edge, an awe-inspiring sight greeted my eyes—a vast river flowing with impressive velocity. Its crystal-clear waters mirrored the sky, its pristine surface occasionally interrupted by playful bubbles. The riverbank, adorned with rich black soil, grew softer with each step I took toward it.

Delight surged through me as I raced toward the water's edge. My feet sank into the yielding soil, a testament to my arduous journey. Eagerly, I bent down, plunging my head into the river's embrace, quenching my parched throat with a long, refreshing sip.

After satisfying my immediate needs with a wash and a meal, the sky darkened, and the weight of solitude pressed upon me once more. What would become of me when my limited food supply dwindled to nothing? How would I navigate this untamed wilderness? Could I truly survive here? And the most haunting question, one whose answer I already knew: Would I ever find my way back?

Surprisingly, amidst this desolation and frustration, I realized I did not long for the presence of family or friends—those relationships, few and far between, barely existed. This revelation sparked introspection. What drove me to yearn for the past? Was it solely for the sake of reclaiming the comforts I once knew? Was my former life merely an existence consumed by mindless entertainment, detached from purpose? Was I truly worthless?

A wave of self-disgust washed over me as I confronted my own weaknesses. This newfound introspection revealed the multitude of times I had wasted, the opportunities squandered. Perhaps, had I not been so pitiful, my girlfriend would not have sought solace in the arms of my best friend. Maybe, if I had not languished beneath the shadow of my siblings, nursing an inferiority complex, my path would have diverged.

These thoughts propelled me to the brink of self-destruction. For years, complaints had consumed my existence, gradually eroding the bonds with my parents until they were naught but a superficial facade. I was repulsed by the person I had become—a reflection of my own mediocrity.

In that moment of reckoning, I found myself shedding tears, my inner conscience relentlessly questioning my future course of action: What would I do now?

Though the path ahead seemed daunting, I had made a decision. I would lead a life devoid of complaint, embracing the challenges that lay before me. I would strive to solve problems and conquer all adversities. It was a promise, first and foremost, to myself.

With nightfall cloaking the surroundings in inky darkness, venturing into the forest to gather materials for a fire seemed unwise. Resting near the riverbank, though not ideal, became my sole option in the present circumstances. And as I lay there, gazing up at the star-speckled sky, my determination burned brighter than ever before.

I carefully endured the chilly breeze, taking refuge in the sleeping bag I had salvaged from the time machine's emergency supplies. It provided little warmth, but it was better than nothing.

Exhausted from the day's long trek, I succumbed to slumber. The night was rough, but I knew it would pass in time.

As the sun's rays pierced through the trees, I awoke to a new day. The forest around me gradually regained its vibrant hues. Most of the trees displayed a lush green, while a few sporadic ones boasted shades of yellow and brown.

Normally, I would have hastily devoured my meager food supply and retreated back to the safety of the time machine. But today was different. I had found my resolve—the will to live.

After freshening up by the riverbank, I took stock of my remaining provisions. Following the allocated quota, I realized my food could last for almost five months. However, I needed to supplement it by gathering additional sustenance.

The challenge lay in the fact that the available food in this era was unfamiliar to me. Selective breeding had led to a different array of edible plants and animals. Testing each one individually would be time-consuming, but necessary.

Furthermore, I needed to fashion tools and weapons essential for building, gathering food, and self-defense. Additionally, constructing a sturdy shelter was a top priority to protect myself from predators and the harsh elements.

Considering all my options, the logical first step was to fashion an axe. Iron was scarce in this era, so I had to rely on stones to create my tools.

Thus, my plan for now was as follows:

Task:

Craft tools

Gather wood

Mission:

Build a shelter

After wandering through the forest, I collected several medium-sized rocks. Shaping the stone proved challenging, as the stones frequently crumbled and my hands grew blistered and numb. Despite the setbacks, I refused to give up.

On my fourth attempt, success finally greeted me. Though the axe blade was unremarkable, it represented my first creation in this new world, and I felt a surge of pride.

As the sun began its descent, I realized I had only completed the blade. "If only I had the skills of an engineer," I mused, succumbing briefly to gloomy thoughts. Yet, a voice from within screamed, "No! I did my best today, and I'll strive to do even better tomorrow. I can do this." The inner voice ignited a renewed sense of motivation. Yes, tomorrow held the promise of improvement.

The next day, I dedicated my efforts to refining the axe blade. I used a flat stone to shape it further, but the edges still lacked the desired sharpness. Remembering a technique from a YouTube video, I used a small, sharp stone to rub the edges, periodically moistening it with water. When I held the finished axe blade, jubilation surged within me. "I've mastered the Stone Age!" I couldn't contain my excitement and let out a shout.

With half the day still ahead of me, I ventured into the forest to search for suitable wood to craft a handle for the blade and for building my shelter. It didn't take long to stumble upon a collection of trees whose wood appeared ideal for both purposes. The trunks were thick, resembling bamboo, and the branches could be repurposed for handles.

Placing my axe blade on a trunk, I hammered it with another rock. Despite not being overly thick, the trunk proved sturdy and solid—far from hollow. After several strikes, the tree slowly bent and then crashed down with a resounding thud. This fallen tree would serve as a foundational resource for my survival.

I collected around five trees before calling it a day. With the remaining time, I cleared the branches and transformed the logs into usable material.

Although hunger gnawed at my stomach, I had to endure the insufficiency of food. I would have to persevere until circumstances improved.

The following day, I embarked on a different plan of action. After bathing in the river to refresh myself, I gathered clay mud from its edges. Carrying the mud to a safe distance, I began digging a shallow depression in the soil.

I recalled a trick my grandmother had taught me during one of our treks. Although we lacked cooking utensils, she instructed me to fetch mud while she dug the soil. When I returned with the mud, she fashioned it to cover the hole, leaving two openings—a top hole and a side entrance—creating a makeshift stove.

Now it was my turn to replicate this remarkable feat.

Completing the stove swiftly, I realized it needed time to dry. Thus, I focused on another task that rendered the stove functional.

Using the blade, I split one of the logs until it reached the desired thickness. Carving tapered ends and adding small notches, I shaped it into a bendable staff. Stripping the fibrous bark from a tree I discovered in the forest, I twisted it into a string, which I then used to attach to the staff. Admittedly, the creation resembled a stone-age version of a bow, a prospect both astounding and daunting. Nevertheless, for now, excitement overwhelmed any apprehension.

As I marveled at my accomplishment, a wave of exhilaration washed over me.

[Bow gained × 30 EXP]

The day was far from over, allowing me ample time for further endeavors.

From my understanding, everything was poised to improve and advance from this point onward, as I had a clear vision of my next course of action.

I resolved to accept a divine gift, one that paved the way for countless revolutions and innovations—the gift of fire. This invaluable treasure bestowed upon humanity by Prometheus held the key to fulfilling our fundamental needs: sustenance, shelter, and security.

With great anticipation, I embraced the dawn of the age of fire—the age of combustion. Ji