Chapter 5 : The Self-Proclaimed Ruler of the Jungle

Phuh!

“It” gasped for breath.

Vaporized sweat turned into pure white smoke, enveloping its entire body, and its hard muscles writhed as if alive, swelling ruggedly.

The axe it gripped in both hands was crude, but its blade—thicker than a human head—carried an inherent threat.

But no matter how strong a predator is, hunger spells its doom.
If it’s starving and thirsty, it dies.

That was no different for the orc, one of the many monsters that roamed the Great Forest.

This orc was exhausted.
Exiled from its tribe and desperate to evade its pursuers, it hadn’t even had a moment to catch its breath.
It was in this state that it stumbled into this place.

The area felt distinctly different from the usual chaos of the Great Forest, where competitors swarmed and every second was a struggle.
There were few signs of life here.
Even the traces of its relentless tribal pursuers had vanished unnoticed.

With the fog and cool air, it felt as though a ghost might dwell here—and in this world, ghosts were real.
Not ghosts exactly, but specters or banshees—spirits born from grudges, close enough in essence.

Though the Great Forest seemed a chaotic jumble of monsters, its territories were strictly divided.
Was this the domain of those spirits?

The orc advanced cautiously, its body rigid with tension.
It couldn’t just stand there gawking—its stomach had been plastered to its spine after the long chase.
More than that, a savory scent wafted to its nose, making its mouth water.

It was a monster, after all—instinct trumped reason.
Food was the overriding concern for a starving orc.
Even humans couldn’t endure a week without sustenance.

And so, the orc finally located the source of the smell.
It was a structure of branches draped with leaves, topped with dried fish meat.
The savory aroma emanated from there.

Fish is tricky to eat.
Raw, you risk parasites; grilled, you have to pick out tiny bones to avoid stabbing your gums.
But the fish before it had been meticulously prepared—bones removed, grilled to perfection. It was a feast.

The orc’s eyes rolled back as it lunged forward.

“…Huh?”

Then it noticed something. Wasn’t that a person over there?
A strange figure clad in animal skins, blinking with cute eyes—it was clearly the one who’d prepared this meal.

The orc sneered at her.
Its expression, as it shoveled handfuls of fish into its mouth, seemed to say:
Jealous? So what? If you don’t like it, try attacking me.

She was just a human.
Outside the Great Forest, they strutted around, but here, they were bottom-feeders—mere bugs that lingered at the edges and fled in terror.
They wouldn’t dare challenge an orc.
Even if they did, could they even scratch a warrior’s tough hide?

Since she’d prepared this feast, it would be generous and overlook her presence.
That was the greatest kindness an orc could offer a human.

“Oh, come on.”

But the human didn’t seem inclined to accept the orc’s mercy.
She sighed, as if exasperated, and began approaching with long strides.

Even with its face buried in fish, the orc tracked her movements keenly.
What a foolish move.
No matter how precious food was, was it worth more than her life?

The orc would spare her only if she didn’t interfere.
If she arrogantly overstepped, it would make her pay.

Come on, get closer. I’ll crush your head painlessly and send you off in an instant.

One step, two steps—soon, when she was within reach of its fist… huh? Why couldn’t it sense her anymore?

That was the orc’s final thought.

Thud!

With the sound of a watermelon splitting, its headless body slumped to the ground.

“What? Why’s something so pathetic acting tough?”

Beside it, the girl—Lena—frowned and shook the blood from her fist.

It was a day she could proudly declare herself a true resident of the Great Forest.

They say humans are creatures of adaptation.
Lena, who’d lived out a survival tale in the Great Forest, agreed wholeheartedly.
She could affirm it because she’d experienced it firsthand.

Lena had been living as a naturalist for years.
She wasn’t sure exactly how much time had passed.
She’d counted up to a year out of habit but eventually stopped—it didn’t seem to matter either way.

Still, she could say it was enjoyable in its own way.
It wasn’t like those who gripe about dying in the army only to romanticize it as a unique experience after discharge.
This was different—every day felt fulfilling.

Life, at its core, boils down to eating, shitting, and sleeping, right?
She was so busy securing those essentials each day that time slipped by unnoticed.
It was the polar opposite of modern life’s treadmill-like monotony.

…Though it was a bit too eventful at times.

They say gaining one thing means losing another.
Lena had learned to be content with what she was given, even if this life had been thrust upon her without her choosing it.

Beyond the satisfaction of a packed daily routine, there was a special perk that brought her joy as a naturalist.

“Ugh, it’s itchy. I really can’t get used to this.”

Lena scratched her chest and grumbled.
When she closed her eyes, the familiar sight of hundreds of forks—the job selection window—unfolded before her.
She’d sensed it after defeating the orc.

She’d leveled up.

As expected, Lena moved forward without hesitation—almost at a run, since the path ahead was set.
Soon, she reached the end of the road.

It was a scene she’d witnessed dozens of times.
There stood the figure of a naturalist—the guide who’d helped her survive the Great Forest.
At first, he’d been a distant silhouette, but now he was noticeably closer.
Today, she could almost touch him if she reached out.

Lena extended her hand toward him.
Features emerged on the naturalist’s face—previously a faceless mannequin—and he transformed into her own likeness.

In that moment, she understood.
She’d reached the end of the destiny of the Wild—the conclusion of one fork.

[The destiny of the Wild evolves into the destiny of the Wild (awakened)!]

[Destiny of the Wild (awakened)]

“Um, yeah, yeah. Thanks for the congrats.”

Lena shoved the system message, which threatened to fill her entire vision, off to one corner.

A completed job evolution.
In game terms, it marked the start of endgame content.
Since the status window mimicked a game system, it probably held important details.

But what was the point? She couldn’t read it.
The glitch in the status window—where nothing but her name was legible—persisted.
It’d be quicker to figure it out through experience than to wrestle with deciphering it.

But first—

“Come out.”

Time to deal with some uninvited guests.

“You’re not coming out?”

No matter how well they hid, they couldn’t escape Lena’s sharp senses.
The cluster of text reading “Cold Wind Tribe Orcs” hovering above the bushes betrayed their presence—impossible to miss.
It was one of the few useful features of a system she’d long dismissed as junk.

“Come out nicely when I ask. If you don’t show yourselves by the count of three, I won’t go easy on you. Three, two, one—”

Puheueu!

“See? I knew it. You should’ve come out sooner. You made my mouth tired.”

As if heeding her warning, the orcs emerged from their hiding spots.
Their faces seemed to ask how she’d known.

Well, I can see your names.

Ambushing was her specialty.

“You guys came to steal my food too, didn’t you?”

They looked exactly like the orcs who’d swiped her jerky and paid with their lives—the bastards.
Their motive was obvious.
What else could it be but hunger driving them to steal?

It happened often.
That used to be the pattern, anyway.

“Beasts are beasts, after all.”

Lena didn’t stay in one place.
Whether by choice, necessity, or the rare environmental shift, she kept moving.
In that sense, this residence was a milestone.
She’d set a personal record: half a year without relocating.

The secret? Establishing dominance.
Before, aware she was an outsider, Lena had lived quietly to avoid clashing with the locals.
But that didn’t work.

These were beasts.
If she bowed her head and tried to coexist peacefully, they didn’t see it as courtesy—they saw weakness.
So this time, she picked a spot and started by clearing the area.
She preemptively dealt with threats—killing those who needed killing, intimidating those who needed a warning.

And voilà! They stopped coming near her!
Turns out the saying “peace comes from strength” held true.

But beasts don’t earn that label for nothing.
The effect was bound to wear off eventually.
Even humans forget old lessons over time and repeat mistakes—how much worse would beasts be?
And starving beasts? They’d lose all reason.

“Okay, take a look at this.”

Lena dragged over the drying rack the orc had ruined.
The jerky—meant to be a week’s worth of emergency rations—was now little more than garbage.
It was drenched in blood splattered from the decapitated orc.

Orc blood is green.
If it were a vibrant, springtime green, she could’ve tricked herself into thinking it was plant juice—healthy, even.
But this murky green sludge killed her appetite and made her question its safety.

So, it was trash now, not food.
Truthfully, it was ruined the moment the orc touched it.
It had devoured the jerky like a beggar starved for weeks, and her modern sense of hygiene recoiled at the thought of touching it.

Since it was garbage anyway, handing it over to them might be more practical.
Call it waste disposal—a win-win in a twisted way.

But Lena had once walked the path of a pacifist, avoiding conflict in the name of peace.
That had failed.
Now, she’d been reborn.

What stood here was the superhuman who’d awakened the destiny of the Wild—the (self-proclaimed) ruler of the Great Forest, Lena.

“Ang.”

Lena stuffed her mouth with the tainted jerky.
Even if I have to eat trash, I’m not giving it to you.
That was the meaning behind her taunting grin.