However, he couldn't return either. Standing here for a day was also not going to play out. Something about honoring the spirit of participation.
With a deep sigh, Terry took his step and slowly found himself in a deep jungle.
He found a tree shade, good enough to sit and relax, so he did. Not that he wanted to, but he needed to. This weak body was too weak. Not even 100 steps and already tired.
"Fuck! What to do now?" He looked around. "What a beautiful jungle this is? Straight out of a video game. If only I was a game character then I would have enjoyed this more instead of fear of losing my life."
He rested for an hour; the sun was already reaching straight up high.
"Already noon? I don't have much time... but what the hell is a Ghorok?" He had no idea.
"No point wasting time here," he slapped his face like he used to do in the gym. "Game Face On, Terry! Game Face On!"
As he stood up, he suddenly felt something was off. Something triggered in him, something changed. He was not sure what, but it felt like he had gained some new kind of additional senses.
He took a few steps and saw an arm-thick stick on the ground. To him it felt like this stick was standing out among other things. Like it is looking much clearer than other items as if trying to attract him.
"What the hell?"
He picked it up.
"Equipped Crude Club, good for melee, deals bludgeon damage."
He shook his head immediately. "What? Why did I just say that?"
He looked at the thick stick in his hand, and that previous feeling of extra senses was there, which was now whispering in his mind, but not like a ghost, but like information he could read, like he could read this thick stick, which read "Crude Club."
It was now his, he felt it. No one could take it from him. He was sure of it, as if it was now part of his, bound to his soul.
That was a weird feeling, a feeling such an intimate connection with a stick suddenly, but also comforting.
No doubt at all, none at all, as he looked at the Crude Club. He also now knew he could use it or attack with it 35 times. After that, it would break. He was sure of it, no doubt at all. None at all.
Terry swung it, and he felt another sensation. Like that swing added something in him, like he was already better than two swings ago. He kept swinging it until something clicked in his mind.
"I am now one percent better at swinging this Crude Club?"
He looked around and found a few stones lying around. He picked them up and instantly felt everything about them. He now didn't even need to read it or say out loud for himself.
He saw something up high in the branches and raised his hand to aim. He felt an arc forming as he could see the trajectory his throw would take. Like a pure 100% confidence that it would not fail at all and follow that trajectory.
He adjusted it and threw it.
Perfect aim, and two fruit-like things dropped on the ground.
He looked at his fingers. "What is going on?" He wanted to ask this more, but deep down he knew the answer, and he liked it, so he didn't try to answer it unless he jinxed it.
He picked up the fruits, and they vanished from his hands. For a moment he felt the shock of that magic trick but in his mind, he was able to feel them; they were within him or rather stored in him.
He focused on them, and they were in his hands, again. He tried with the Crude Club, and it vanished too and then came back. He tried it with a stone too.
He didn't feel like he had some limitations on how much, or many, or type, or anything else, or restrictions on items he could store within himself.
"Thanks god or whatever or whoever sent me here. Thanks for helping me out and not abandoning me."
With that half-hearted sarcastic gratitude, he started storing everything around him. Sticks, herbs, stones, fruits, nuts, mushrooms, even grubs.
He pulled the crude club out and started swinging it, and he randomly aimed at anything, throwing the stones. His proficiency kept increasing as he aimlessly kept going, looting and shooting everything around him.
"This is fun! I do not feel tired at all now for some reason."
The reason he was not getting tired was because he was munching on anything edible he found. Sour fruits and mushrooms were a good source of stamina.
Or rather, he wished for it, and that stored item vanished from his mind storage, and he felt like he had eaten it, gaining all the benefits of eating it instantly.
No need to wash, peel, cook, bite, taste, swallow, digest or anything, he was sure he wouldn't even need to poo or pee if he ate everything this way.
Like a child in a playground, he started playing and enjoying, forgetting that he was in a dangerous jungle for a hunt. Not just any beast, but a Ghorok.
---
Meanwhile, in the arena, a giant leather map was displaying the positions of both participants.
Jem was chewing on his nails because of what he was looking at and hearing all the chatter around him.
"Who comes drunk to his heir selection ceremony? House Drenok has truly fallen below my expectations." One of the Nobles commented.
"He didn't look drunk to me?"
"Then how would you explain him calling his Uncle Elder like he can't recognize his own uncle?"
"Yes... and what about that swearing heavens and tribulations? Why was he talking like a barefoot monk?"
A few of the younger nobles started mimicking Terry now. One knelt, raised his hand, and gave a sloppy cup salute, slurring, "I do not dare... mock the sacredness..."
Everyone laughed out loud.
"He really thought he was a Hero of his imagination or something," someone scoffed. "Like those kids who think they have special powers or abilities."