In the heart of the forest, where sunlight filtered through the branches in golden slivers and the wind danced softly among the leaves, a herd of deer grazed peacefully. Their movements were calm and rhythmic, ears twitching now and then, heads lifting occasionally as they remained ever alert to danger.
Their instincts had been honed over generations. To eat in silence. To move quietly. to look around every time. Stay alert at every moment. To run the instant something felt wrong.
But instincts could only do so much.
Thwip!
An arrow cut through the air, swift and silent——before burying itself deep into the neck of a young adult buck.
The deer let out a strangled noise and collapsed instantly, legs twitching as it struggled against the weight of death pressing down on it. It tried to stand. Once. Twice. A third time.
But there was no saving it.
A few moments passed before the rest of the herd even realized what had happened. But once they saw the blood, the motionless body, the scent of sudden death—
They bolted.
In seconds, the clearing that had once been full of gentle grazing was empty. Only the fallen deer remained, breathing shallowly, life slipping away like water through cupped hands.
Footsteps crunched lightly on the forest floor.
From behind a thick brush, Elric emerged, bow in hand. His eyes—sharp and calm—locked onto the wounded animal without hesitation. Without a word, he nocked another arrow and pulled the string taut.
"Sorry, buddy."
He released.
The second arrow struck cleanly—right between the eyes.
The deer stopped moving.
Elric lowered his bow and let out a quiet breath. He approached the fallen creature slowly, his eyes lingering on the blood staining the leaves.
"Hunting looks cool in movies... but the first time I tried this?"
He chuckled bitterly.
"Yeah, the deer almost gutted me. Note to self: don't trust anything Hollywood shows you about finishing off wild animals with a knife."
Back then, like an idiot, he'd run up with a blade thinking it would be quick and clean.
It wasn't.
It was painful. For both of them.
Now, he knew better.
He learned a very painful lesson from that, don't under estimate anyone, specially any dying creature.
When a dying creature attacks you, fact that it's already know, he not making it alive, now it just want to fucking kill you.
Kneeling beside the carcass, he pulled out the embedded arrows with a practiced grip, wiping the shafts clean on his sleeve. Then, with a grunt, he lifted the deer onto his shoulder, its weight sinking into his muscles, and began walking toward the nearby river.
The trees whispered around him, wind brushing past his hair. Birds had already gone quiet after the hunt—nature's pause after death.
Once he reached the riverside, he sat down and pulled a small, well-used knife from his pocket. The blade glinted in the light, worn but sharp. He took his time cleaning the deer, hands steady from practice. The blood washed into the flowing stream, carried away like the silence that came after thunder.
When the task was done, he rose again, hoisting the cleaned carcass over his shoulder and making the trek back toward his home.
By the time he arrived, the sky was melting into hues of orange and violet. The sun had dipped beneath the canopy while he was still working.
He hadn't even noticed.
"Already dark, huh..."
With a small click, he turned on his flashlight, its soft beam guiding him through the growing shadows.
The firewood had already been prepared earlier that week, stacked carefully beside the cabin wall. He lit it with a practiced flick of a match, the flame dancing to life and casting flickering warmth across the clearing.
His home didn't have electricity. No lights. No fridge. Nothing modern.
Solar panels? He had considered it.
But out here, in a country still struggling to eat properly, no one was selling solar panels. Not even in the black market.
Still—
He didn't mind.
After all, the body he now lived in—fused with the version of himself from the One Piece world—was stronger than any average human. His eyes could cut through the dark like a cat's, and his body no longer feared the chill of winter nights or the blaze of summer days.
Even without modern conveniences, his life now...It was peaceful. Quiet. Simple.
He salted the deer meat and stored it for future use. The skin, cleaned and scraped, was left to dry beneath the stars—stretched out on a frame of branches to be tanned and sold later. Selling hides had become his main source of income. And it was enough.
He didn't buy much.
He didn't need much.
As the fire crackled beside him and the scent of the forest filled the air, Elric leaned back on the wooden bench just outside his cabin and looked up at the stars.
"A hundred times better than before..." he whispered.
This life, though far from perfect, was finally his.