Africa, the night sky full of stars, clear and dazzling.
Haizaki Shogo held a long wooden stick in his hands, one end sharpened by Nash, with a large catfish skewered on it.
Around the campfire, Nash, Falke, and Shogo each held a wooden stick, roasting their own catfish.
Being white, Nash and Falke had already been darkened by the fierce sun. Now, with a layer of ash and dirt smeared on their faces, they looked indistinguishable from the locals.
Of course, Shogo was no exception. His face was streaked with dust and ash. After just one day, all three of them were covered in dirt and sweat.
Hunger gnawed at their bellies. Each stared hungrily at the catfish on their sticks, swallowing saliva continuously.
It was around 8 p.m. The catfish were half-cooked, and the pitch-black savanna had begun to echo with strange and eerie sounds.
At first, the three men focused intently on their roasting fish, careful not to burn it.
Half an hour later, Falke's attention wandered, and he started chatting.
"Hey, guys, what do you do? Why did you come to participate in this challenge?"
Nash shrugged casually.
"Bored, looking for some thrill. And there's money involved, so why not?"
Falke and Nash glanced at Shogo, who joined in.
"Same here. Just curious about the world, wanted to explore. That's it."
"Haha! Looks like you two are just rich kids with nothing to do. Not me—I still owe tuition at my school, so I came here to win some prize money."
"Good luck!"
"Good luck!"
Shogo and Nash both offered their encouragement, hoping the enthusiastic young man would achieve his goal.
Time passed quickly. The catfish were now fully cooked. Famished, the three of them devoured the fish, replenishing the energy and protein spent during the day.
One catfish each left them half-full, but none suggested roasting more. Everyone understood: their goal was to survive a month. Hoarding food was the smart strategy.
"Later, let's move the fire and sprinkle the surrounding area with ash. It might help keep snakes, scorpions, and insects at bay."
"Will it really work? I hate scorpions the most," Falke said nervously.
"It'll help a bit. Just do it," Shogo replied.
They moved the fire and spread ash around. When finished, exhaustion settled in.
The three men lay down around the fire.
Shogo looked at the stars and had an idea about the fishing net. He turned to Falke.
"Falke, hang the net on the thorn barrier. Won't it make our heads a bit safer?"
"Good idea, Shogo!"
Falke got up and quickly hung the net on the thorns. Even Nash felt their safety had increased.
They chatted casually, amazed at the African savanna. Unnoticed, Shogo drifted off to sleep.
BOOM!
In the dead of night, a terrifying, low growl echoed outside the thorn barrier. All three awoke instantly.
Shogo instinctively grabbed his spear, holding it in front of him.
Falke reacted quickly, drawing his bow and aiming beyond the thorns.
Nash gripped his cleaver, standing ahead of the others, his emerald eyes glowing. The Belial Eye activated.
Outside, two massive eyes glimmered in the firelight.
They all understood: a fully grown male lion.
The lion's terrifying aura froze them. None dared sleep. But Shogo gazed at Nash's Belial Eye and smiled slightly.
Lucky… First night, and we get to see the Belial Eye!
It was past 4 a.m. They stoked the fire, making the camp look more intimidating. This, oddly, made them feel safer.
The growls faded, but soon, dozens of baboons began shrieking, their cries grating on the nerves. Shogo only thought about it; he didn't dare go out.
Dawn finally brought silence. The three, exhausted, sat by the fire, talking. Falke spoke first.
"Hey, Nash, last night your presence was something else. I almost felt like there were two wild beasts beside me."
"Really?"
Nash glanced at Shogo but said nothing.
"And you, Shogo, weren't bad either. Not cowards!"
"Hehe."
Seeing them ignore him, Falke wasn't discouraged and kept chatting, asking trivial things—what Nash liked to eat, whether Shogo liked French girls…
Half-awake from being woken, Shogo dozed off again.
Only when sunlight filtered through the gaps above did Shogo slowly wake.
Opening his eyes, he realized the scorching environment around him. This isn't my big mansion at home anymore.
Nash and Falke were half-closed-eyed, silent.
Shogo sighed.
"Guys, we should be glad we didn't end up as a lion's dinner last night. How about I cook a pot of catfish soup?"
"Do it, Shogo. I'm exhausted," Falke said.
"I don't know how to cook," Nash admitted.
Direct and simple—their personalities were straightforward. Shogo liked it; in this environment, honesty was best.
"Alright, I'll make the catfish soup. Afterward, we go hunting. Sounds good?"
"Sure!"
"Good!"
Falke perked up at the mention of hunting. Shogo quickly got to work cooking.
By noon, each had a large piece of fish. From the ten fish Falke caught yesterday, only four remained.
So, in the afternoon, the three had no choice but to go hunting.
Whether they'd succeed was uncertain. Shogo didn't know.
After finishing their fish and soup, they secured the thorn gate and left camp.
Nash led, Falke in the middle, Shogo at the rear. They began exploring and hunting across the African savanna.