It was a blazing sunny day with not a cloud in sight.

The coastal market was packed with four-legged beasts coming and going.

Down by the waves, merfolk merchants flicked their colorful tails, splashing glittering seawater into the air.

Onshore, the Camel Clan led their minotaur slaves, who carried stacks of thick beast hides on their backs.

A cool sea breeze ruffled Lucy Walker’s hair, already matted with dry brown mud, giving her a bit of relief from the heat.

She struggled to carry a sack of wild wheat, trailing behind a female of the Leopard Clan.

Her delicate hands were rubbed raw and red.

This was downright miserable.

All those years of compulsory education, cramming through high school, just to end up working like a slave for a bunch of illiterate beastmen?

Well, maybe not a slave exactly — more like a gofer. Run errands, pour water, that kind of thing. At least that's how she got to come to the market.

But what choice did she have?

One bathroom break at the mall and wham — opened the stall door and ended up in this nightmare.

In novels, modern folks show up in the past and just crush it with their brains...

In reality?

These people could rip your skin off and pull out your heart with their claws — faster than you can blink.

Danger’s around every corner.

In books, seeds are lying all over the forest, and you can plant crops wherever you want.

The beastmen? Always super impressed with the clever time-traveling main character.

They farm, raise pigs, build an empire.

In truth... beastmen could sniff you out from miles away, and once you're captured and locked inside a tribe?

Forget about leaving.

Even wild animals are cautious and protect their own. Beastmen? Ten times worse.

You think they're just gonna start trusting some random outsider?

Keep dreaming.

Stories make it sound so easy. Real life’s brutal.

And now? Sitting here crying won't solve anything. Should’ve held the urge and skipped the restroom!

"Why are you walking so slow? Next time you're staying home!"

Marta, the Leopard Clan female walking ahead, turned and shot Lucy an impatient glare.

She practically shouted, drawing glances from the passing beastmen caravans.

Lucy responded with a quiet "Okay."

Sweat had made the mud on her neck melt and stick to her tangled hair.

Marta looked her up and down with obvious disgust and flipped her own glossy gold hair with pride.

"Your hair’s filthy — it’s gross."

Other than her chest, her hair was what she flaunted the most.

Lucy silently clenched the wooden badge in her other hand, the one with the word “endure” carved into it.

She really wanted to snap back: Not my fault I'm too pretty — that’s why I’m stuck in this mess, being bullied by a wannabe beauty!

So unfair.

Being attractive = getting picked by some male beast = forced to breed!

Dignity? Ha.

Couldn’t we at least get to know each other before getting married and popping out babies?

But nope. Getting picked = getting it on that same night.

Just skip the whole love-and-connection routine.

"Marta, with a face that unique, there's no comparing," said Lucy, forced smile in place, voice dripping in fake sweetness.

Not that Marta would catch the sarcasm anyway.

Marta rolled her eyes but looked satisfied.

She enjoyed having Lucy around — ugly, dirty, and obedient.

It gave her that little boost, like having a backdrop to highlight her own “beauty.”

Just then, Lucy spotted Hunter Stackhouse, a male from the Leopard Clan, returning. She let out a quiet sigh of relief.

Just as expected.

With perfect abs and a body like a sculpture, Hunter casually came over and took the heavy sack of hides from Lucy’s arms.

Even if she was ugly and filthy, she was still a female.

Most males in the land tribes would offer help to physically weaker females.

"Why’re you helping her, Hunter? She’s just some gross outsider! Don’t help her!" Marta shouted, clearly annoyed, stomping her foot.

A flicker of hesitation crossed Hunter’s eyes.

Then… the heavy bag was dumped right back into Lucy’s arms.Marta looked even more smug now. She fluttered her short lashes in a way she probably thought was flirty and said to Hunter Stackhouse with a pouty tone,

“I just might choose you as my male tonight, at the Autumn Bloom Festival!”

Hunter lit up with a grin, flashing his white teeth, excitement clear in his voice.

“It’d be an honor to be chosen by you.”

The ten-pound sack was once again loaded into his hands.

Lucy Walker stared at them—if that wasn’t a picture-perfect couple, she didn’t know what was. Except it made her want to gag.

Fine. Deep breaths. Let it go for now.

Just you wait, you two smug jerks.

Tonight, she was going to shine so bright the whole place would notice. With any luck, she’d get Damian Silver, the tribe’s strongest warrior, to pick her.

Or maybe it was “Damian Sylver.” Whatever.

No writing system existed here anyway; names were just how people said them.

But Damian, with that cold silver hair and those icy blue-silver eyes—he looked like something straight out of a myth. Sharp, dangerous, and not from this world.

He was one of the best when it came to hunting, yet the tribe treated him like an outcast—for one reason.

Because he was a crippled beastman.

He couldn’t transform like the rest, and even in human form, some beastly features stayed.

There were rumors he couldn’t have kids—which for Lucy was fantastic news.

Zero chance of being forced into breeding? Sign her up.

Problem was, the guy rarely showed up.

Last she heard, he was out hunting deep in the Sunsetless Forest with the team. Lucky her, tonight he’d be back for the Autumn Bloom Festival.

Biggest festival of the year. Last food division of the season. And, of course, where single females got matched with any available warriors.

He had to attend.

Looks weren’t everything, but they helped. And Lucy planned to make hers work for her.

She didn’t want to manipulate anyone, but surviving here meant doing what she had to.

Winter was coming fast. And if she didn’t find a way to protect herself, it wasn’t just her freedom on the line—it was her life.

But first things first: she needed to track down wild corn seeds at the market. She had a system, after all.

Cool, right?

Normally, people who crossed over got amazing systems—ones that talked, sent out quests, offered helpers, or unlocked overpowered skills.

Not her.

All she got was this mute wooden tag she couldn’t even toss away. It could shift forms, though. Its default was some kind of giant black hammer sketch.

So sure, let’s call this sad excuse a Hammer System.

Page one of the hammer’s guide read:

[Sunsetless Forest Staples]: Wheat, Soybeans, Corn.

The wheat and soy were lit up. Corn was still a dull grey.

Bundle rewards:

1. One blueprint for a 40x40 plot of farmland—for growing the unlocked crops.

2. 100 shell crystals as currency.

She had no clue if that plot meant 40 centimeters or 40 decimeters, but who cared? The point was the 100 shell crystals.

To put it into perspective? The wheat she carried now, about ten pounds worth, was worth three crystals.

A half-beast slave cost 20.

With 100? She could buy a mountain of food. Maybe even a few bodyguard slaves to keep her safe while she built her own little farming hideaway.

“Marta, what do you think of my white pearl necklace? It cost me thirty shell crystals!”

Marta lifted her chin, pointing to the pale white beads hanging from her dark neck. She practically beamed with pride.

These jewel-like pearls inside clamshells were pricey here—symbols of wealth and status. Wearing them said one thing loud and clear: I’ve got power.