The Doctor's Beast Tamer System: Apocalyptic Survival

Ch 3 Past And Future?

Bast stared at Baki—the scrawny young man who had just accused him.

According to the memories of Rotten Bast—the original owner of his body—Baki was his drinking and gambling buddy. It felt rather surprising to see his own "friend" being the first to stab him in the back.

Bast really wanted to curse and punch that smug face, but he held himself back. Blind rage wouldn't earn him any reputation points. He had to use logic.

"Do you ever think before you accuse someone, Baki?" Bast asked coldly.

"It's exactly because I'm thinking that I say there's no way you took that honey yourself!" Baki mocked, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're a coward who doesn't dare enter the forest, and you clearly don't know how to drive away bees."

A few villagers nodded their heads yes. Of course, the memories of Rotten Bast also revealed that this drunkard had once stolen animal skins drying in the yard of a neighbor. His reputation truly sat at the level of animal dung.

"Your face is clean—your hands too. You don't have a single bee sting on you," Elder Orek chimed in, pointing with his cane.

"Myra…" Bast turned to his sister, who now rested in their mother's embrace. "Can you tell them I didn't steal it?"

"I don't know!" Myra snapped immediately, her eyes blazing. "I didn't see you grab that honey! You just suddenly burst out of the forest with that bear!"

The girl still refused to defend him. Bast let out a sigh. He rolled up his torn sleeves, revealing branch scratches and bruises.

"Do you all see this? My arms are skinny, and they hold no more strength than fragile wood. You yourselves called me a burden and a weak loser." Bast pointed at the honey resting on the leaf.

"So you think I could rob elite hunters with a body this weak? They carry spears and axes. What would I rob them with? This rusty dagger?"

CLANG!

Bast pulled the dull dagger from his pocket and tossed it to the ground, right at the tips of Baki's toes.

Baki immediately shut his mouth. Bast shattered his logic instantly.

"That's true..." muttered a villager in the back. "Why would a hunter hand their honey over to Bast?"

"Go ahead and search around the village right now," Bast challenged, raising his voice. "Ask any hunter if I just robbed them of their goods."

Silence. Not a single villager dared to respond. Even Elder Orek and Jarek frowned because Bast's logic proved completely undeniable. Bast was far too weak to be a robber.

"I found it in a hive that the bee swarm had already abandoned," Bast said, fabricating the most plausible story. He had no intention of exposing his secret just yet. "I just got lucky."

[Ding!]

[Undeniable logic presented. The villagers' doubts shattered the 'Cowardly Thief' label. Reputation Points acquired!]

A series of names immediately popped up on his virtual screen:

[Elder Orek +0.3]

[Jarek +1.0]

[Elara +2.0]

[Villager A +0.1]

About fifteen names appeared, but the total amount he received didn't even reach 10 points. He only earned the highest points from his easily satisfied parents.

Myra didn't contribute a single point, and Baki the accuser yielded a big fat zero.

"Alright then. Take that honey to your house. Anyone who feels they need honey, feel free to buy it from Jarek!" Elder Orek finally dispersed the crowd. Nothing left to argue about.

"WAIT!" Myra pointed at Bast with teary eyes. "He was going to sell me! Shouldn't he face punishment?!"

Bast, who was just about to breathe a sigh of relief, choked once again. Selling a family member constituted a criminal offense.

"Yeah! Punish him!" "Throw him out the gates!" several villagers chimed in, the situation heating up again.

"DON'T!" Elara immediately screamed and rushed over to hug Bast. Throwing someone as weak as Bast out of the village equated to ordering him to commit suicide. "Myra… how can you be so heartless? He's still your brother!"

"MOM! HE WAS GOING TO SELL ME INTO SLAVERY! HE'S EVIL!" Myra screamed furiously, refusing to accept that her playing-favorite mother still defended this bastard son.

Bast could only sigh. Rotten Bast's memories showed that Elara had always played favorites to an extreme degree. No wonder Rotten Bast became so 'broken.' His mother always acted as a shield protecting him from all consequences.

"If he truly must face punishment, I accept it," Jarek said, his voice trembling. He acted stricter than Elara, but his affection proved no less.

Hearing that, Bast felt a tightness in his chest. He could feel the genuine affection radiating from these parents. Bast now wanted to curse and kick Rotten Bast even more. How could that bastard disappoint the very people who loved him so much?

Bast gently lowered his mother's hands, then bowed his head before Myra and Jarek.

"I'm sorry. I won't try to dodge this. I'm indeed guilty and foolish," Bast said sincerely. "But please believe me, that was the last time. After today, I'll change. No more gambling or drinking."

[Ding!]

[Elara +2.0]

[Jarek +1.0]

Bast snorted grimly upon seeing the notification. Only his father and mother believed him.

"Do you think we're stupid?!" Myra spat out her fury. "How many times have you tricked us with those fake promises and crocodile tears?!"

Bast winced. The vow of repentance he just uttered so sincerely had apparently been Rotten Bast's daily staple. Every time someone cornered him, Rotten Bast would "sing" this exact same song of regret. No wonder nobody believed him!

"Enough, Myra," Elder Orek intervened. "In the end, he dropped his intention and brought you back to the village."

"MOTHER AND YOU ARE EXACTLY THE SAME! I'LL KILL HIM MYSELF!"

Myra, completely fed up, snatched Elder Orek's wooden cane and lunged forward to smash Bast's head.

Elara screamed hysterically, trying to block her. However, Bast absolutely refused to let the poor woman suffer again. He gently pushed his mother aside, then ducked to dodge Myra's cane swing.

However, something felt wrong.

THUMP!

An incredibly sharp sting of pain suddenly ripped through his chest.

"COUGH!"

Bast coughed violently. Fresh blood spewed from his mouth, splattering onto the dusty dirt.

Elara's horrified shriek echoed. The cane slipped from Myra's grip in sheer shock.

Bast fought hard to maintain his consciousness, but his vision spun wildly. His energy drained completely away. He collapsed to the ground before Myra's strike even touched him.

'Damn you, Rotten Bast!' he cursed right before his consciousness faded completely.

He didn't know yet what severe illness had suddenly struck him down, but the cause clearly traced back to the reckless lifestyle and cheap alcohol Rotten Bast chugged every single day into this twenty-four-year-old body.

***

Bast opened his eyes. He intended to jump right up, but his body quickly reminded him that such a light step remained a luxury he no longer possessed. All his joints creaked in protest.

Bast finally did the only rational thing left to do right now—checking his condition medically.

He touched his wrist, counting the irregular heartbeat. Then, his fingers gently massaged his lower chest and right abdomen.

THROB!

A sharp ache instantly spread.

"Advanced liver swelling and acute gastric inflammation," Bast diagnosed.

As a senior doctor, he knew exactly what the diagnosis meant. That blood vomiting earlier most likely resulted from ruptured esophageal varices—blood vessels in the throat tearing from the pressure of his severely damaged liver.

Bast let out a long sigh. This condition isn't an instant killer disease, but if I don't detoxify it immediately, I'll die from complications. Rotten Bast truly treated his young body like a toxic waste dump.'

He glanced around. His room looked incredibly simple and smelled musty. A solid oak frame made up his bed, sturdy enough to hold down a rampaging drunkard.

But of course, this wooden bed wouldn't stand a chance against the charge of a monster as ferocious as an Ursodon or a Sabertooth Bear.

As Bast prepared to twist his body to get down, he faintly heard voices from behind his bedroom door.

"We can't let this go on, Elara. He crossed the line," Jarek's deep voice whispered, heavy with exhaustion.

"Selling a family member... Maybe it's time we let him go. Let Elder Orek and the villagers punish him."

"Don't be crazy!" Elara sobbed quietly. "The villagers' punishment could kill him, Jarek! He's my son. I already love him like my own flesh and blood. He's our only boy!"

"He isn't our son, Elara!" Jarek snapped, his voice rising slightly before he restrained it again. "Myra is our flesh and blood! Bast... he's just an abandoned baby we found by the river twenty-four years ago. And look how he repays us now?"

Behind the door, Bast's eyes widened slightly.

A foundling?

Rotten Bast's memories didn't record this fact at all, probably because Jarek and Elara hid it incredibly well.

Honestly, Bast felt no sadness or heartbreak hearing it. He had known those two parents for less than half a day.

But deep in his heart, a sense of awe slowly grew. Their care—especially Elara's—made absolutely no sense.

They willingly risked their good name in the village to defend and love a bastard drunkard who didn't even share their blood.

"Rotten Bast... you really threw away diamonds just to chew on dirt," Bast cursed grimly.

Not wanting to interrupt the couple's argument, Bast decided against leaving through the door. He slowly stood up, slid open his fragile wooden window, and climbed out quietly.

He only had one destination now: the forest.

According to Rotten Bast's memories, the doctors in this village lacked total competence. Their medical methods only involved slapping wild leeches onto patients and chanting prayers. Bast needed real medicine, and he had to find it himself.

In the backyard, Bast picked up a rusty machete and a piece of flint. His eyes then locked onto a woven basket in the corner of the porch.

It held a pile of Red Sulfur Roots—a plant that, when burned, produced a pungent yellow smoke that monsters absolutely despised.

Bast grabbed a few handfuls of the roots and stuffed them into his pockets. If he encountered a beast in the forest, he just needed to strike the flint and burn these roots as an emergency smoke bomb.

Not a very convincing weapon, but far better than carrying nothing at all. Bast knew that going to the forest at night without a 'weapon' meant pure stupidity.

The moment he stepped outside his home's fence, Bast looked up and immediately complained. "Damn it. It's so dark. How long until someone invents a lightbulb?"

He desperately missed the blinding glare of LED streetlights. In this world, the thick pitch-black shadows completely dominated the night, lit only by the pale glow of moonlight.

Considering how backward his village looked, humanity probably needed hundreds of years before discovering electricity.

"Wasp!"

Bast called his forest wasp. The tiny insect crawled out from beneath his collar and buzzed softly.

"Find a plant with a strong bitter scent around damp soil," Bast commanded through his system's mental connection.

The wasp darted off. In fact, the help of this insect was limited in scope. It had bad nite vision, and it certainly wasn’t the fighter type to defend Bast from wolves.

But the wasp's tracking instincts for nectar and plant sap aromas worked with razor-sharp precision.

Bast followed it carefully. He targeted Earth Bile—a dark-leaved herbal plant whose roots worked wonders for flushing toxins from the liver and soothing gastric bleeding.

Sure enough, the wasp led him to a lush, damp area on the edge of the forest. Beneath the roots of a massive tree, Bast found dozens of Earth Bile clusters growing perfectly.

None of the villagers utilized them because they tasted incredibly bitter, and nobody knew their true medical value.

Bast started digging and cutting those roots using his rusty machete.

Once he filled his cloth sack, Bast stood up to stretch his aching back.

However, as he turned his head toward a slightly deeper part of the forest, his eyes caught a silhouette that felt... entirely wrong.

Among the towering pine tree trunks stood one "tree" that lacked any natural branches.

Curious, Bast stepped closer, squinting to pierce through the darkness of the night.

That wasn't a tree. He found a metal pole as thick as an adult's thigh. Severe corrosion and rust covered its surface, swallowed by moss and creeping vines.

The top part of the pole bent sharply downward, revealing a worn-out metal box with three circular holes; the glass inside lay completely shattered.

Bast's breath caught in his throat. His feet glued themselves to the dirt. That shape... looked far too familiar to him. Those three vertical circular holes definitely didn't belong to some magic artifact or alien civilization.

That was a traffic light!

The hollow, corroded holes had once emitted red, yellow, and green lights. The blood in Bast's veins turned freezing cold.

Rotten Bast has no lore about this object—and it seemed the villagers never discussed it either.

This world he was stranded in wasn't the past... it wasn't a parallel world either. This was Earth.

This is Earth in the future, where an unknown apocalypse has utterly obliterated civilization and dragged humanity back to the Stone Age.