I was tense.
Every muscle stretched like a cord ready to snap. My heart was pounding like a war drum, dull and brutal, echoing in my temples. Despite everything I had been through, despite the hunger, the pain, the loneliness, I wasn't calm. I no longer had my traps. No more web of death stretched out to protect me. It was back to square one.
I had to kill.
With my own hands.
Take a risk.
And I saw it.
What emerged from the bush had no business being in a forest. No business being in a living world.
An abomination.
A fucking wolf without skin.
Its raw muscles gleamed in the dark, a dark veined red, taut like bloody cables. Every joint was visible, tendons bulging beneath the pulses of its exposed carcass. Its eyes were white. Not silver. Not glowing. Just... empty. Like those of a blind man. Or of a dead thing still walking by mistake.
This world...
This fucking fantasy world.
What the hell was this monstrosity now?
But it wasn't the time to wander.
It moved forward. Slowly. The smell of its open flesh reeked of rancid blood, acid, and madness. It approached the edge. The same edge where I was waiting. Every step echoed in my chest.
I stretched my legs. My fingers clenched the bone spear until my knuckles turned white. Everything in me tightened. Reduced to a pulse. A leap.
And when it tilted its head, when its purplish tongue brushed the water's surface...
I jumped.
A silent scream in my throat. A flash of hatred in my nerves. I fell like a famished predator, all my mass focused in my arms, in my blade. I saw its back open beneath me, its neck align in my field of view. And I brought the spear down.
A sharp noise. A wet crack.
My blade pierced between two vertebrae. To the hilt.
It didn't howl.
It collapsed.
Dead.
The incoming purple light entering me.
I remained still for a moment, breath caught, eyes fixed, hands clenched on the weapon buried in its raw flesh. Then I pulled, with difficulty. The blood spurted, thick, blackish, sticky like tar.
And I began to eat.
Not like a man.
Not like a beast.
Like something in between.
Its muscles were still warm. Exposed. Vibrating under my jaw. I bit deeply into the red mass, without skin, without barrier. I felt the fibers snap under my canines. The raw fat clung to my tongue. Residual spasms made the limbs twitch as I tore off pieces.
I chewed. I tore. I smeared my cheeks, my chin, my arms.
The taste was vile. Metallic. Lumpy. Like biting into meat that was too young, too exposed. Every bite was torture. But I kept going. Because I was hungry. Because I needed that damn purple light. Because I had chosen this path.
I plunged my head into the river between bites, swallowed great icy gulps, rinsed my throat, then started again. Eat. Drink. Eat again. In rhythm. On repeat.
A sordid ritual.
And suddenly...
My instinct screamed.
A shiver ran up my spine like an icy whip.
I spun around — and a high-speed jet of water grazed my cheek, hissing through the air like a blade. It barely touched me, but the burn was real. Sharp. Unreal.
Something else was there.
Something fast.
Something... that had targeted me.
And I caught a glimpse.
Just behind me, in a bush crushed by the shadows, it was there.
A monkey, or something that looked like one.
My size, maybe a bit smaller, but denser. Its smooth, dark gray skin gleamed under the moonlight like still-wet flesh. In places, it looked almost translucent, revealing a network of bluish veins pulsing like snakes under glass. Its skull was elongated, smooth and tapered like that of a disproportionate fetus. It had no nose, no mouth. Just... a slit.
A vertical slit, thin, moist, pulsing, where a face should have been. And from that slit, I realized, had come the high-pressure water jet that grazed me.
Its eyes were black, deep, with no light or expression, staring at me.
Its arms, though, were immense. Too long. Twisted. Perfect for swinging from tree to tree like a simian nightmare.
And then, I knew.
It wasn't looking at me like prey.
It was judging me.
Because the wolf... was his.
And I had just stolen his hunt.
But it wasn't a simple monkey. Not an animal.
That thing had evolved.
Its movements. Its gaze. Its patience. It wasn't a stupid monster. It was a hunter.
And I knew, viscerally: if I didn't kill it now... I would never sleep peacefully again.
So, without thinking, without letting fear take hold, I leapt.
I grabbed my spear, firm grip, and charged.
The ground exploded under my feet. My breath turned to rage. I brought all my weight down on it.
But it reacted faster.
It fled.
Not like a coward. Not like prey.
Like a predator changing position.
And then... the hunt began.
It swung from branch to branch, fast, precise, slipping from one trunk to another like a fluid shadow. Its oversized arms gave it a mobility I could only envy.
Me, I ran.
Barefoot, claws out, burning breath in my throat. I was faster than before, stronger. My body had changed thanks to the purple light. Each step was more supple, more powerful, more agile.
But him...
He was born for this.
And soon, the foliage devoured him.
I lost sight of him.
Just the rustling of leaves.
Just the wind at my back.
And a certainty in my gut: he would return.
Because now... I had become his prey too.
And then... I understood.
Instinctively.
I had been stupid.
Too impulsive. Too human still. Attacking a hunter on his own ground, without a plan, without perspective... It was a mistake. One this world doesn't forgive.
He would've killed me.
Not right away. Not cleanly. But he would've gotten me.
So I fled.
Not with dignity. Not methodically.
I ran.
With all my strength. With everything I had left. Every muscle screamed, every heartbeat was an explosion in my chest, but I ran. Through roots, vines, low branches. I crossed the river again at full speed, splashing, stumbling, but without slowing down.
I didn't look behind me.
I didn't want to know if he was following.
I climbed the first tree tall enough, trembling hands, worn claws, burning arms. But I climbed. High. Ever higher. As if altitude could save me. As if the treetop could still offer a patch of sky that didn't reek of death.
And once up there, between two wide, solid branches, I pressed my belly against the wood, panting, motionless, eyes wide open.
No sound.
No movement.
Nothing.
Just me.
A filthy goblin, exhausted, panting like a beast, lying on his belly at the top of a tree, silently praying not to get gutted in his sleep.
And just when I thought I was holding on...
I let go.
Not voluntarily. Not from weakness of spirit. Just... because everything was empty.
My body. My mind. My reserves.
I felt my muscles release, my thoughts dissolve. My heart slowed, not from serenity, but because it couldn't go on. I was still tied to the branch, my trusty vine wrapped around my torso like a survival cocoon. It was the only thing keeping me alive. The only thing stopping me from falling.
And me...
I fell anyway.
Not physically.
But mentally. Deeply.
I sank.
My mind, drowned in panic, escape, strategy, pain, went dark. All at once. Like a torch snuffed out by the wind.
I had given too much.
Run too far. Bitten too hard. Survived too long in a body too weak to handle it all. I had pushed its limits, again and again, as if I could forge it through sheer willpower.
But it had nothing left to give.
And neither did I.
So my eyelids closed.
Without a fight.
Without dreams.
Without a glorious ending.
Just a black silence, where there was no goblin, no monster, no forest.
Just me.
Broken.
Asleep.
Finally.
I woke up with a start.
My breath burst from my throat, hoarse, choppy. My heart pounded so hard I thought it might split against my ribs. Fuck…
I had fallen asleep.
Me. The hunted. The survivor. The trap builder. Asleep.
I cursed inwardly, jaw clenched, claws digging into the bark. It wasn't bravery. Nor courage. Just... luck. Pure. Filthy. Insolent. The beast hadn't followed me. Otherwise, I'd already be nothing more than a slab of warm meat hanging from this branch.
It had left me.
Or ignored me.
And that was worse.
That bastard.
That simian hunter, skinless and eyeless, with translucent flesh and a spit-mouth — I knew deep down, he wasn't like the others. He wasn't just a forest beast. Not a monster born of pure instinct or biological chaos. No.
He had evolved.
Like me.
Not through rage. Not through pain.
Through intelligence.
It was a... rational abomination.
A being that had learned to survive by understanding, by observing, by tracking. A reasoned anomaly. And in this forest full of howls and fangs, that might have been the most terrifying thing I'd ever encountered.
And yet...
As I touched my cheek, where his jet had grazed me — a fine, almost clean burn — something shifted in me.
The fear didn't vanish.
But it receded.
And something else took its place.
Slowly.
A shiver climbed my neck.
Not panic.
Not cold.
Excitement.
Pure.
Raw.
Primal.
Was I getting excited at the thought of risking my life?
Or was it the fact that I had finally met an opponent worthy of me?
A being with thought, cunning, strategy — finally, something worth hunting?
I didn't know.
But one thing was certain.
I wouldn't leave this forest until I'd killed that fucking monkey.
I would hunt him.
Force him out of his branches, make him look at me, fight me.
And on that day... one of us would die.