Greed ran with everything he had left. His chest burned, each breath sharp and shallow, his legs trembling as if they might snap beneath him. The sound behind him—heavy footsteps, snarling breath—kept getting closer.
Too close.
He glanced back.
The beast's mouth was wide open, saliva dripping from its teeth, eyes locked onto him like he was already food.
Fear made his step careless.
His foot struck a rock.
In an instant, his balance was gone. Greed pitched forward, arms flailing uselessly. His knee smashed into the ground, pain exploding through his leg. His body rolled, his shoulder crashing into stone, then his side, then his back. Each impact knocked the air from his lungs, leaving him gasping, helpless.
Then his head hit.
Stars burst across his vision as a sharp pain rang through his skull. His body tumbled one last time before dropping into a small river below.
Cold water swallowed him.
The shock stole his breath. Water rushed into his mouth as he sank, his body refusing to move the way he wanted it to. Panic surged. He kicked weakly, pain screaming through his limbs, until at last he broke the surface.
Greed coughed violently, choking, dragging in air like it was the first breath of his life. His head throbbed. His arms shook as he tried to push himself up, but his strength was fading fast.
On the riverbank, the beast stood still.
Watching.
Greed's heart pounded. His vision blurred as he thought, Am I going to die?
His mother's face flashed in his mind.
"No," he whispered, voice trembling. "My mother gave me a new life… and I'm not about to die without a fight."
His hand closed around a rock beneath the water. It was heavy, rough, solid—real. Using every bit of strength left in his aching body, Greed threw it with all his might.
The rock struck the beast.
And fell harmlessly to the ground.
The beast didn't even react.
Greed swallowed hard, pain screaming through him—but even then, he didn't look away
The beast lunged at him.
Greed's fear snapped—replaced by something hot and burning. Anger. His eyes widened as the monster closed in, its mouth open, certain of its kill.
Then—
A sharp light burst before him.
Greed squeezed his eyes shut.
When he opened them again, the beast was no longer attacking him.
A child stood where it had been.
The boy was no older than Greed, yet not younger either. He crouched over the fallen beast, moving fast—too fast—feeding with wild, desperate hunger. His eyes glowed, overflowing with energy, as if life itself rushed through him.
Greed slowly stood. Fear weighed down every step, making his legs feel heavy, like he was carrying the world on his back. Still, he walked forward.
He reached out and gently tapped the boy's shoulder.
"Thank you," Greed said. "Very much."
In an instant, the boy spun around.
His hand shot out and grabbed Greed by the neck, lifting him slightly off the ground.
"Who are you?" the boy demanded.
Greed struggled to breathe. "I—I am Greed," he said.
The boy's eyes searched his face.
Then he let go.
Greed fell back, coughing.
"I am Sloth," the boy said calmly. "Sorry for that."
Greed rubbed his neck and looked up at him. "Are you… one of us?"
Sloth nodded. "Yes. I am a monkey that talks."
Greed paused.
Then smiled.
"Me too."
Greed followed Sloth through the trees, struggling to keep up even for a moment.
"You're so fast," Greed said in awe. "I didn't even see you move."
Sloth glanced back lazily. "I am the fastest in this forest."
Greed's eyes widened. "How are you this fast?"
Sloth stopped.
"You really want to know?" he asked.
Greed nodded without hesitation.
Sloth sighed, then quickly bit his own arm. Not hard enough to bleed badly—just enough.
Greed flinched. "Ouch."
Sloth held out his arm. "Look at your red water," he said. "Then look at mine."
Greed stared.
They were different.
Not just in color—but in the way they moved, thicker, calmer, almost alive in a strange way.
"Yeah," Greed whispered. "It's different."
Sloth nodded. "Yeah."
Then, as if the conversation meant nothing at all, Sloth turned away.
"Now bye."
Before Greed could say another word, Sloth vanished.
No sound. No wind. No trail.
Greed blinked.
"…Where did you go?"
There was no answer.
Greed slowly turned back toward the fallen beast. Hunger returned, heavy and demanding. He tore off a piece of meat and bit down.
His face twisted.
"This tastes… horrible," he muttered.
But his body warmed. His strength returned. His stomach settled.
He kept eating.
As bad as it tasted, it filled him completely.
Greed wiped his mouth and looked at the rest of the carcass.
This beast will last me days, he thought.
Then another thought followed—quiet, dangerous, new.
I could make this my own.
He looked at his hands.
And for the first time, Greed didn't just survive.
He planned.