The monkey's body twitched, dazed from the slam—but then it let out a furious, bone-chilling screech. Its roar echoed through the forest like a primal war cry, shaking birds from trees and sending smaller creatures scattering.
Rikuya's smirk faded.
"Tch. Still got that much fight in you?" he muttered, cracking his knuckles.
The monkey lunged again, crazed and reckless.
But this time, Rikuya didn't dodge.
He stepped forward—fast.
In a flash, he drove his right fist directly into the monkey's left shoulder blade, the impact bursting with a dull crack, sending tremors through its upper body.
Before the beast could even react, Rikuya pivoted on his heel and slammed a left hook into its right shoulder joint, dislocating it completely. The monkey let out a strangled howl as its massive arms dropped limply.
"Two down," Rikuya muttered, eyes cold.
His knee dipped, and he launched an uppercut straight into the spine between the lower back and ribcage, a brutal blow that sent a ripple through the monkey's torso, dislocating vertebrae like dominoes.
Crack!
He spun behind the beast, using its collapsing body as leverage, then delivered a ruthless double-punch—one fist slamming into the left side of its lower spine, the other into the right hip, crushing the pelvis inward.
Snap. Crunch.
The monkey collapsed face-first, a convulsing, groaning wreck.
Rikuya exhaled slowly and stepped back, watching it twitch.
"All that noise," he muttered, shaking out his knuckles, "and you couldn't even take one round of proper punishment."
He turned away, letting the silence of the forest return. "Next time, stay in the trees and scream at squirrels."
Rikuya stared down at the broken monkey, now barely conscious and wheezing. He wiped his hand across his mouth, exhaled, then glanced at the beast again.
He scratched his head.
"...Huh. You know what?" he muttered. "You're ugly, loud, and smell like a compost heap—"
His stomach growled. Loud.
He paused.
"...but maybe you'll do for breakfast."
With a shrug, he dragged the monkey over to a clearing, collecting some dry branches and leaves nearby. In minutes, he had a fire going — flames crackling and smoke curling up into the fresh morning air. He skewered the meat with sharpened sticks, rotating it slowly as it sizzled over the fire.
The smell wasn't the best — a little wild, a little greasy — but after the chaos of the morning, it was good enough.
He sat back, letting the fire warm his legs as the meat roasted.
"Still disgusting," he muttered with a smirk, "but better roasted than running its mouth."
As the meat sizzled over the fire, Rikuya stood up and rolled his shoulders. His body shifted with a natural strength—every movement fluid, precise. He arched his back slowly, reaching both arms behind him, interlacing his fingers.
Crack… pop… pop…
A satisfying series of cracks echoed from his spine and shoulders, the tension melting away with each one. He let out a deep breath, eyes half-lidded from the relief.
"Ahhh… that's good," he said, letting his arms drop back to his sides. "Better than any massage I ever had in the old world."
He glanced back at the roasting monkey meat, the firelight dancing across his face.
"Still can't believe this is how I'm starting my new life... eating jungle monkey for breakfast," he muttered with a tired grin.
Rikuya sat cross-legged beside the fire, the monkey meat now cooked through—crispy on the outside, steaming with a wild, gamey scent. He tore off a chunk with his teeth and chewed slowly, eyes half-focused on the flames.
But then… a soft, whimpering sound broke the quiet.
He paused mid-bite, ears twitching at the sound. It wasn't far—coming from the brush behind him. Low, broken cries, like something small and hurt.
He turned his head.
Just beyond the edge of the firelight, a tiny figure limped into view. It was a wolf pup, but not quite like any he'd seen before. Its fur shimmered with faint blue streaks, as if moonlight had woven through its coat. One of its hind legs dragged awkwardly, blood matting the fur and leaving a trail behind it. Its ears were drooped, and wide eyes glimmered with pain and fear.
Rikuya set the meat down and stood slowly, his voice calm. "Hey…"
The pup flinched and backed away with a soft growl, trying to act tough but barely able to stand.
Rikuya clicked his tongue. "Tch. Figures. Even little things like you know not to trust strangers."
He stepped back from the fire, tore a smaller, softer strip of cooked meat, and crouched low, extending his arm slowly. No sudden moves. Just patience.
"Here," he said, voice quiet. "You look like hell. Eat."
The pup hesitated. Sniffed the air. Its stomach growled audibly, and finally—cautiously—it limped forward, snatched the meat, and chewed quickly.
"That's right," Rikuya murmured. "Food first. Talk later."
After a few more moments, the pup didn't back away this time. It stayed put, eyes still wary, but no longer aggressive.
Rikuya slowly reached out, palm open.
The pup lowered its head.
He scooped it up gently, one hand supporting its chest, the other beneath its injured leg. It trembled in his arms but didn't resist. Carefully, he walked it over to the fire and sat down again, resting the little creature in his lap where the warmth could soothe its shivering body.
With practiced ease, he looked around, found a few broad leaves and dry twigs. He tore some strips of cloth from his inner pants lining and wrapped them tight around the leg, reinforcing the joint with splints from the twigs.
"There," he said quietly, tying the last strip. "Not pretty, but you'll walk again."
The pup looked up at him, eyes wide and quiet, tail twitching slightly as it pressed closer to his warmth.
Rikuya smirked.
"Congrats, kid. You're the second thing I haven't punched today."
The fire crackled gently beside them, casting soft orange light over the forest clearing. Above, the sky stretched wide and endless, a canvas of stars blinking in quiet rhythm. The moon hung like a silver lantern, washing the trees in cool, pale light.
Rikuya sat with his back against a tree, the pup curled beside him, its injured leg carefully wrapped, resting on a bed of leaves. It was no longer shivering—just still, quiet, warm.
He leaned his head back and exhaled deeply, eyes scanning the stars.
"You know," he said softly, voice calm, "back in my world, I used to sit outside like this too. When I was young. We had rooftops. Concrete. Cold air. But the stars? Just like this. Maybe fewer."
The pup shifted slightly, looking up at him with its moonlit eyes—curious, listening.
Rikuya glanced down with a smirk. "What, you like stories? Alright…"
He told it one. Then another. Tales of street fights. Of mastering techniques in abandoned dojos. Of rainy days with hot noodles, and training until his knuckles bled. His voice stayed steady and smooth, flowing like the fire's crackle.
To his surprise, the pup stayed glued to him the whole time, head tilted slightly, ears flicking once in a while—as if understanding every word.
After a long pause, Rikuya looked down again.
"You got a name?" he asked casually.
The pup gave a soft grunt, then shook its head gently.
"No, huh…" Rikuya stared at it for a while, eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
Under the firelight, the blue glow in the pup's fur shimmered gently like a thread of starlight.
He smiled.
"How about… Tsuki," he said. "Means 'moon'. You kinda glow like it. Quiet too. Feels right."
The pup blinked once… then gave a small tail wag.
"Tsuki it is," Rikuya said with a smirk. "Guess that makes us partners now."
He leaned his head back again, gazing up at the stars, and Tsuki laid its head across his leg, eyes slowly drifting closed.
Beneath the vast silence of the night sky, a warrior and a wounded pup rested by the fire—two strays in a world of monsters and magic, sharing warmth, and maybe, just maybe… something like peace.
The first rays of sunlight spilled through the treetops, painting golden lines across the forest floor. A soft breeze rustled the leaves, carrying the scent of morning dew and the last traces of smoke from last night's fire.
Rikuya lay on his back, arms behind his head, breathing slow and steady. Peaceful, for once.
Then—slurp.
A wet tongue dragged across his cheek.
"...Ugh," he muttered, eyes cracking open.
Another slurp, this time on his chin.
He blinked and turned his head—only to come face-to-face with Tsuki, tail wagging and eyes bright, licking him like a mother wolf waking her cub.
Rikuya groaned, wiped his face, and sat up slowly.
"I let you sleep near the fire once, and now you think you own the place, huh?" he said, smirking as he ruffled Tsuki's fur.
This time, no slaps—just a small laugh from Rikuya as he shook his head.
"Guess you're better than a bird pecking my face."
Tsuki barked once, almost like a laugh of his own, before hopping back and stretching out his front legs in a lazy bow.
"Alright, alright. Let's get moving," Rikuya said, standing and stretching his arms with a satisfied crack of the shoulders. "We've got a whole world to punch in the face."
Rikuya knelt down and scooped up Tsuki with ease, lifting the little wolf pup onto his shoulders. Tsuki climbed up naturally, settling on top of his head like a proud crown, his tail swishing with satisfaction.
Rikuya squinted at the trees surrounding them, the forest thick and seemingly endless.
"Alright… where the heck is the exit to this forest?" he muttered, looking left and right.
Tsuki suddenly barked—a sharp, confident sound—and raised one paw, pointing toward the east.
Rikuya blinked. "Huh?"
Another bark. Another confident paw jab in the same direction.
He turned his head slightly to glance up. "Wait… you know where the way out is?"
Tsuki gave a smug huff, as if to say obviously.
Rikuya raised a brow, chuckled, and reached up to pat the pup gently. "Smart dog."
Tsuki puffed his chest a little, clearly proud of himself, and Rikuya smirked.
"Alright, navigator. Lead the way."
And with that, the man and his wolf pup headed east, deeper into the unknown… but no longer lost.
As they made their way through the forest, Tsuki suddenly barked, pointing his paw off to the side. Before Rikuya could even react, a deep whoosh of air cut through the stillness, and in the blink of an eye, a massive hammer shot toward them from out of nowhere.
Rikuya's instincts kicked in—he immediately ducked, pulling Tsuki close to his head to keep the pup from falling as the ground shook from the impact of the hammer. Dust and debris exploded around them, but Rikuya had already grabbed Tsuki by the scruff, pulling him tight to his chest.
With a low growl, three orcs stepped into view, each one bigger than the last, their muscular frames bulging as they wielded hammers the size of tree trunks. The air around them practically buzzed with their intimidating presence.
Rikuya glanced up, keeping Tsuki safe in his arms. His eyes flicked to the orcs, then back to Tsuki, who was wide-eyed and shaking.
Rikuya, unfazed by the threat, gave a smirk and tilted his head as he stood up. "Well, well, what do we have here? The Three Little Pigs' cousins?"
The orcs grunted, confused by the strange words, but Rikuya didn't care. He continued with his mockery, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"First pig—straw house, blown away with a gust of wind. Second pig—sticks, oh man, don't even get me started. Third pig, now he finally gets it and builds a brick house," Rikuya said, casually gesturing at the orcs as he kept Tsuki nestled close to his chest. "But you guys? You're just barely a brick house. More like a pile of wet wood."
Tsuki barked, as if laughing along with Rikuya's roast.
The orcs snarled in unison, their eyes narrowing with anger, clearly confused but growing frustrated by the jabs. But Rikuya stood tall, completely unbothered by their intimidation.
"Alright," he said, cracking his knuckles, "let's see if you're strong enough to even finish the story, huh?"
Rikuya took a slow breath and glanced up at Tsuki, still cradled against his shoulder.
"Hold on, little guy," he said softly.
With care, he walked over to a nearby tree and gently placed Tsuki onto a thick, sturdy branch. The pup gave a small whine, but Rikuya patted his head.
"Wait here, buddy. Gotta teach these pork slabs some manners."
Tsuki settled down reluctantly, eyes locked on his human.
Rikuya turned back toward the three orcs. He rolled his shoulders once, exhaled, and raised his fists, stepping into a tight, grounded boxing stance. His eyes gleamed under the filtered forest light.
The orcs were already stomping forward, snarling, hammers raised.
Rikuya smirked.
"You know, I didn't think pigs could walk upright," he said, nodding at the trio. "But here you are—three bacon-wrapped muscle balls with hammers. Impressive."
The orcs grunted in confusion and anger, their teeth bared.
Rikuya bounced lightly on his heels, fists up, perfectly balanced.
"Alright, boys. Let's see if you're prime cuts—or just overcooked leftovers."