026 Self-Enrichment

The soil had been damp and stubborn beneath my fingers, clumping beneath my nails as I carved out a shallow grave with slow, deliberate motions. Each scoop felt heavier than the last, not because of the dirt, but because of what lay beside me. The small, broken body of the bear cub rested in unnatural stillness, its fur matted and darkened where violence had claimed it.

Willow’s voice drifted down from her perch above. “Nature is cruel, violent, and doesn’t care for the feelings of sapients like you and me. Beasts at their core are simple-minded, and it’s that simplicity that lets them act on their baser instincts.”

I exhaled through my nose, pushing another handful of dirt aside before glancing at the cub again. “Yeah, but it still sucks.”

I had known, in theory, how brutal nature could be. Documentaries, trivia, detached narrations spoken in calm voices over horrific imagery. They never prepared me for the rawness of witnessing it directly. The male bear hadn’t hesitated. It had mauled the cub with a singular purpose, clearing the path to bring the mother back into heat, ensuring its own lineage would dominate. There had been no malice in its eyes, no hesitation, just instinct carried out to its natural conclusion.

And it wasn’t unique. I had seen enough already to understand that. Just days ago, by the riverside, I had watched a hippo crush a young one in its jaws with the same indifferent certainty, probably the same reason the bear had. It was Natural Selection at its finest and cruelest.

The grave was deep enough.

I gently placed the cub inside, its small form settling into the earth as if it had always belonged there.

Willow tilted her head slightly, her golden eyes fixed on me. “Why didn’t you resurrect it? You’re fully capable of doing so.”

My hand lingered above the grave.

The answer should have come easily. Balance. That was the word people liked to use, the justification that made everything neat and acceptable. But as I stared at the cub, that reasoning felt hollow, like something repeated too often without understanding.

“I thought it was about balance,” I admitted quietly. “But I don’t think that’s it anymore.”

I began covering the body, each handful of soil dulling the sight until it disappeared completely.

“It’s cruel,” I continued, my voice steady despite the weight pressing in my chest. “Maybe it’s how things are meant to be. But I’m still learning.”

I pressed the last layer of dirt down firmly and sat back on my heels.

“I don’t want to be weak anymore,” I said after a moment. “If I’m going to hold onto my agency, I need to strengthen my resolve.”

“…”

I looked up at Willow. “Can you teach me how to be wise?”

She let out a soft, almost amused sound. “That would be a challenging task. I doubt I qualify as wise. The local wildlife calls me the Wise Owl, but that’s just a name. Wisdom isn’t something one can simply claim. Only sages can truly call themselves wise.”

I shook my head slightly. “Wisdom comes in many forms. Sometimes just being able to listen is enough.”

Her gaze lingered on me for a long moment before she gave a small nod. “Then I will do everything I can.”

That was enough for me.

“If I’m going to adapt to this world, I can’t just live in it. I have to enrich myself.” I glanced back up at Willow and asked. “Do you have anyone in mind who could help me learn more?”

She ruffled her feathers lightly. “I have two creatures in mind.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it, really.”

It didn’t take long before I found the first of them.

Or rather, he found me.

A blur of motion cut through the underbrush, landing a short distance away with explosive energy. Muscles coiled, eyes blazing with intensity, the kangaroo stood upright, his tail balancing him like a counterweight of pure force.

He pointed at me dramatically, voice bursting with unrestrained fervor. “I CHALLENGE YOU TO THE MOST PASSIONATE DUEL EVER!”

I blinked once.

Then I sighed.

“Entanglement,” I uttered calmly with a thump of my staff.

Roots erupted from the ground without hesitation, coiling tightly around his legs and tail, binding him in place before he could even launch forward. The forest itself obeyed without question, tightening its grip until Roo was completely immobilized.

He struggled for a moment, then froze, eyes wide.

I stepped closer, studying him.

“Well,” I said, tilting my head slightly, “can you teach me martial arts? In return, I’ll spar with you once a month.”

Roo said nothing.

Not a word. Not a sound. Just complete, stunned silence.

I stared at him for a few seconds longer before rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have started with you,” I admitted. “Yeah… this might’ve been too much.”

I turned slightly, already preparing to leave. “If you’re not interested, I’ll just—”

“WAIT!” he shouted, his voice cracking with sudden desperation. “DON’T GO! I’LL DO IT! I’LL DO MY BEST!”

I paused mid-step and slowly looked back at him. Honestly, I wasn’t convinced I’d gain anything from this strange kangaroo.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

But Willow had suggested him, so I had to try.

I continued into the forest, looking for my third teacher.

There were two strongest beasts here, and I had already met one of them.

I stopped beneath a cluster of towering trees, their branches weaving together like a canopy that blocked out most of the sky. The silence here felt different, not empty but waiting.

“Old Black,” I called out, my voice steady as it carried through the stillness. “I know you’re here.”

I heard a slow, deliberate rustling above me.

From the thick branches, a massive black form began to descend, scales catching what little light filtered through the leaves. His body coiled effortlessly as he hung downward, head lowering until golden eyes met mine. There was a flicker of surprise in them, subtle but unmistakable.

“You came,” he said, voice smooth and measured. “Did you receive my tribute?”

I frowned slightly. “What tribute?”

Without another word, his body tensed slightly before he opened his jaws and regurgitated several chunks of raw venison. The wet sound of it hitting the ground broke the silence, pieces landing disturbingly close to my feet.

He shifted his head, gesturing faintly toward the meat. “It is yours now.”

I stared at it.

So the meat offerings I had been finding… they had come from him.

I just hadn’t expected this delivery method.

“That’s…” I paused, searching for a word that fit the situation. “…unexpected.”

Old Black’s tongue flicked out briefly, tasting the air, before his gaze returned to me with something almost resembling approval.

“Thank you,” he said simply. “For the last time.”

That made me look up sharply.

“The last time?” I echoed.

Confusion lingered in my mind, clashing against the image I had of him. The last time I saw Old Black, he had been wrapped around a boar, constricting it slowly, deliberately, prolonging its suffering in a way that hadn’t seemed necessary for survival. It had looked like enjoyment.

Sensing my confusion, he shifted slightly, coils tightening around the branch above as he explained. “When you saw my hunt, you did not intervene. I observed you closely in that moment, and I knew. You possess a noble soul. A confused noble soul, yes? But a noble soul nonetheless. It is something rarely seen among humans now. A soul that carries a soft and gentle flow within that promises so much potential. Truly, admirable.”

I remained still, listening.