Since you're in the middle of a forest, and there isn't a single person to be found (let alone a hundred), you close the System notifications and focus on the here and now instead.

"Here: middle of the forest," you say laconically. "Now: time for breakfast."

Your rumbling stomach concurs.

The only problem is that the here is not exactly conducive to the now, or in other words, the forest isn't readily preparing an all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet. And let's be honest: you're not exactly an Eagle Scout.

You get to your feet and brush down your still-damp rags. You're lucky the System didn't drop you into the middle of winter,or your second life would have been an extremely short one.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

You pick your way through the forest, hoping that you're going back the way you came. Now that you've observed it, you notice the System Sight lurking in the corners of your vision, having you turn your head this way and that, only to see nothing.

After you trip and almost fall because of one such instance, you stop to glare at the notificationd with your System Eyes, cursing under your breath. And then you remember something, finally.

With a thought you bring up the inventory, and there it is. The compass. You activate it for the 3,489th time, and this time, the System message says something different.

[Notification]

[Are you sure you want to activate [Soul Compass] with the following parameters?

World [Locry, auto-detected]

True North [fixed, magnetic, auto-detected]

Activate? y/n]

For 2,671 quarts, you fruitlessly berate yourself for not thinking of the compass immediately. Then, you accept.