Rushing to make some distance, Edvard picked up one of his other spears, having many placed in strategic locations around his sleeping area.

The orc roared in anger as it saw Edvard continuing to dodge its attacks. An act of cowardice, one which could only be atoned for through death.

With little care for being unarmed, the orc rushed towards Edvard. Throwing explosive punches in a truly magnificent show of speed and strength. Edvard only barely managed to keep sight of the flurry of fists, relying more on his body's instincts than his sights.

Finally, after a great deal of dodging, Edvard managed to find an opening. Ducking to the side he slid under the attack and thrust with his spear. A good hit, the entire stone blade entering the orcs side.

Yet, instead of crying in pain, the orc smiled. Sending another punch which Edvard only managed to dodge by abandoning his spear which had become stuck in the orc's side.

"Fucking hell. What is he made of?" Edvard cursed as he fell onto his back, quickly rolling over to avoid the foot that came for his head.

["Good, let's satisfy the blood god!"] The orc shouted in a crass vulgar language, pulling the spear out and throwing it at Edvard. Who just barely managed to move so it did not pierce his heart.

Crying in pain, Edvard quickly pulled at the spear to get it out of his side. Knowing that this would worsen the bleeding, but if he stayed pinned then the orc would easily kill him. Yet he was too slow.

The orc rushed forwards and grabbed the spear just as Edvard managed to get it out. Pulling it from Edvard's grip, it thrust forward to end the fight.

'No! Not yet!' Edvard thought, incapable of forming the words through the pain. Seeing the spear come for him, he brought his left arm to block the thrust.

Nearly biting off his own tongue, Edvard fought through the pain and stabbed his stone knife into the orcs kneecap. Following it up with a kick while fighting to keep the spear locked in his arm.

The kick caused the knife to go right through the orc's leg. As it fell, Edvard retreated. His left arm badly wounded, beyond repair and hanging by his side useless with the spear stuck inside. But his legs were still fine.

Edvard quickly made distance and headed to one of the traps he had around his base. Limping and hunched, nearly falling more than once.

The orc followed, slowed greatly with its one leg basically useless. Yet, still, it smiled. As it approached Edvard, who seemed to have a foot in the grave already, its smile grew even more. Ready to end this and claim victory.

Edvard lifted his head and looked at the orc, making sure he appeared as tired as he was. Waiting for it to swing at him, he let his body fall, taking a vine rope with his right hand as he did.

A sharpened log fell down from the trees, thrusting right through the orc's chest. Coughing up blood, its arm extended for the attack, it looked down at Edvard on the ground. Confusion and disappointment in its eyes.

["No... Not... Like this... Coward..."] The orcs sputtered the words in its crass language. Its legs finally giving and it falling to the ground.

"Fuck, I'd much rather face three tigers than this. What is with that speed and strength?" Edvard moaned as he pulled out the spear and placed pressure onto his wounds. Hopping back to his home base area to find some medicine.

As he struggled to move twenty meters (66ft), he realized just how insane the orc's strength truly had been. Every time it had missed him and an attack had landed on a tree, the location of impact had simply turned into splinters. While the trees had not collapsed, fist-sized holes were clearly visible on many of them.

The return to his home was not an easy one. With his adrenaline leaving him, the pain became nearly unbearable. Gritting his teeth, Edvard dug for the salve he had pre-prepared. Rubbing it onto his side wound and arm. The latter unlikely to heal.

"Seems... That... This is it... For this... Life..." He mumbled between gasps for air as he tightened the leave bandages over the wounds.

With his wounds taken care of, Edvard leaned against one of the trees his hammock was suspended from. Slowly sliding to the ground and finding he had no energy left.

"No fighting them directly." Edvard mumbled as he fought off sleep, "I need to... Get more ranged..." He failed to finish the sentence, drifting off to sleep and then death.

Through the year and all his failed survival attempts, he had found that he was the only living soul in this forest. On the sixth hour of every day of every cycle there would come something he had to fight to the death. But outside of these moments, there would be nothing in this world. Not even fish nor insects.

Edvard was far more experienced upon his revival than ever before, the first beast coming for him stood no chance.

Even with his body back to its weakened original state and his weapon but a stick. It died without much of a fight. Edvard's weapon easily going through its neck as he moved between the teenage hyena's claws.

Edvard had a plan of action for this life. The last one he had never bothered to make a house, and with good reason. But now he realized that getting a good night's sleep and being protected from the elements was essential.

He spent his first few days looking for water, making himself temporary weapons while moving. Once he found a good spot near a river he started making himself stone tools and weapons. By the third week, he had even made himself a coat and some basic clothing.

Next, he started gathering wood, luckily, food was never a problem thanks to the beasts coming to claim his life. He instead claimed theirs and took their offerings.

A month in Edvard had even managed to make a bow, something he felt was massively important after the orc encounter. He also made himself a couple of areas to fight in, the areas filled with traps. This was finished around the second month, and finally, he felt he could start making a home.

He did not start with the walls first instead he started by setting up more traps. This took another month, and finally, Edvard started building a home. This took far longer than he had expected and drained him of energy, Edvard nearly dying due to overworking himself on a particularly emotional day.

Every now and then he would have a nightmare of his past life. He would never be able to call those sweet memories a good remembrance. Instead, it made waking a true hell and made him clumsy and stupid until he managed to forget again.

Luckily he had survived with just a few new scars. Yet this had also caused him to realize that a proper house was too much to aim for. So halfway through his fifth month, he abandoned all his work.