Lying on his back, he gazed up at the sky. Slowly, he raised his right hand toward the light above, lost in thought.


    “I can do this,” he murmured, slipping into a daze.


    But the moment didn’t last.


    His thoughts were interrupted as he sat up abruptly, shaking his head roughly and slapping his cheeks a few times.


    “Alright. I need to survive in this world.”


    The words echoed in his mind as he scanned his surroundings. First, he had to see if there were any human settlements nearby. His eyes locked onto the tallest tree in the area, and he pointed toward it with determination.


    “There,” he said to himself, his finger pausing on a massive black tree that towered over the rest.


    While the average trees here stood around 30 meters tall, this one easily reached 50 meters, its dark bark unlike anything he’d ever seen.


    He made his way quickly toward it.


    “HOLY—THIS THING’S HUGE!” he shouted, stunned by the sheer size of the trunk.


    If the inside of this tree were hollow, even an elephant could fit inside, he mused, circling it.


    Its coarse bark gave him some hope. His confidence to climb it rose from zero to about fifty percent. With that sliver of courage, he began his ascent.


    It wasn’t easy. His hands slipped more than once, and he struggled to find decent footing.


    Eventually, he gave up and slid back down.


    “Stupid tree!” he yelled and kicked its massive base.


    Pain shot up his leg.


    “Argh! Damn it!” he hissed, clutching his foot.


    “You’re evil,” he muttered, slumping against the bark.


    A voice echoed in his head—his own.


    “You’re weak and lazy, blaming a tree? Not cool, man.”


    He smirked at the mockery, closing his eyes.


    “Yeah, yeah. It’s my fault,” he said.


    “Mocking yourself now? Classic.”


    “I am myself,” he replied to no one. His inner monologue spun on.


    And as he sat there, he began to reflect—not just on the tree, but on his life.


    He didn’t have many friends. He used to tell himself it was fine. But deep down, that wasn’t true. His heart knew it, even if he pretended otherwise.


    No real love from family either? Maybe. These days, he could go a whole month without talking to them and not feel a thing. But maybe that was just him lying to himself again.


    “You do want to be loved, idiot. Admit it. You’re always doing everything alone. You think that’s normal?”


    He found himself talking louder now, half laughing, half pained.


    Stolen story; please report.


    “Whatever,” he said. “No time for this.”


    Survival came first. He forced a grin, brushing aside his own feelings like he always did.


    “Alright. If I follow a river, I might find a human settlement,” he recalled from a survival guide he once read.


    “Damn, I’m brilliant.”


    But then a dark thought crossed his mind.


    What if this world has no humans?


    The idea terrified him.


    Still, he kept walking. A strange feeling washed over him, like he was being watched. He scanned the forest warily, senses sharp. Hours passed, yet no sign of a city.


    Exhausted, he slumped against a tree. The sky was orange now—probably around 4 or 5 PM.


    He needed to make a fire.


    He gathered dry wood, leaves, and two decent-sized stones. He hadn’t done this before, but hey, how hard could it be?


    Turns out... pretty hard.


    Sparks refused to come, and frustration mounted.


    Then he remembered—there was a lighter in his backpack.


    “Let’s go!” he whispered, relieved.


    Night fell fast. He sharpened a stick with a stone and headed to a nearby river to try catching something—anything.


    Before that, he made a crude shelter from large leaves and sticks.


    “Man, I’m beat,” he muttered, poking around the riverbank.


    The fish here were weird. He saw them dart between rocks, quick and cautious. It took a while, but he finally speared one.


    “What the hell is this?!” he yelled, holding it up.


    Five eyes stared at him—white, black, red, yellow, and blue. Its body was purple, and its tail glowed faintly.


    Freaked out, he crushed its head and tossed it aside.


    Black blood oozed out.


    “Poisonous, for sure,” he thought, his stomach growling in protest.


    He hesitated. Then, hunger won.


    Gras... gras...


    A faint rustle from the bushes to his left.


    He froze.


    Something was there.


    The night air thickened, the silence broken only by his own breath—uneven, shallow. His skin prickled. The hairs on his neck stood on end, and dread coiled in his gut like a serpent.


    He stared into the thicket.


    Nothing.


    But the silence wasn’t comforting. It was wrong. Too quiet, too still.


    A cloud drifted past the moon, casting strange shadows. Then, a low mist began to seep between the trees, clinging to the ground like a creeping hand.


    He couldn’t breathe.


    His instincts screamed—Run.


    Without thinking, he gulped several mouthfuls of water from the river, but his eyes stayed locked on the forest. Every step backward felt like a gamble. Then, he turned—and ran.


    But something was following.


    He didn’t hear it. He didn’t see it.


    But he felt it.


    Every crunch of leaves beneath his feet echoed in his mind like thunder. His heart pounded wildly, and his vision blurred as terror gripped him.


    The fog thickened, wrapping around the trees like a shroud. His feet stumbled over roots, leaping over them as if his life depended on it—because it did.


    “What the hell is happening?!” he gasped, breath ragged, panic surging.


    He didn’t dare look back.


    The forest blurred around him, shapes shifting in the dark.


    Something was there. Watching. Chasing. Hunting.


    He sprinted faster, driven by pure fear, not knowing what lay ahead. Just escape. Survive.


    A hill loomed in front of him. He scrambled up, legs burning, lungs screaming.


    He crested the top—and froze.


    A cliff.


    The land just ended.


    Cold wind whipped against his face as he stared into darkness. The fog masked everything beyond the ledge.


    “No... no no no!”


    He spun left, then right—nothing but steep drops. His breath came in short, ragged gasps. Panic clawed at his throat.


    Then—


    Rawwrghhwoooohhh!!


    A howl.


    Not a wolf. Something else. Deeper. Darker. Inhuman.


    It echoed from the river, where he’d just been.


    His blood turned to ice.


    He spun, eyes wild, searching—anywhere, anywhere to hide.


    There.


    Below. About twenty meters down—tangled roots jutting from the cliffside, forming a hollow space.


    Move.


    He slid down, grasping branches, clawing at rock. His hands bled. His arms ached.


    One slip and he’d die.


    The wind howled around him, carrying whispers he couldn’t understand.


    He reached the hollow, his body trembling. Cramped, but hidden.


    He collapsed into the space, heart still racing.


    The fear didn’t leave him.


    It pressed against his chest, heavy and suffocating.


    In the distance, the howl echoed again.


    Closer.


    ---


    At the riverbank, the beast stood still. Not just a wolf—something far worse. Taller than a man, built of sinew and shadow, with three thick tails swaying behind him. His red eyes gleamed, locked on the horizon.


    Not a sound. Not a breath. Just stillness... Then, in an instant, he moved.


    The ground beneath his feet shattered, splinters of earth scattering as he launched forward, a blur of power.


    In moments, he reached the top of the hill—the same hill where the human boy had stood. He scanned the dark forest below. Eyes narrowed.


    Silence.


    Then, with a voice like a growl soaked in disgust—low, calm, mocking—


    > “Is this a joke?”


    His claws flexed, and the air grew colder.