I flicked my gaze around—trees, foliage, nowhere to go—then snapped back to the monster as the ground beneath me shuddered again, harder this time. The pressure thickened until it felt like the forest itself was bowing.
It was rising.
Higher than anything I'd ever seen.
Its bulk lifted above the treeline—thick, layered hide over a frame built like a siege engine. More stone than flesh, ridged and compact, like blades would snap before ever breaking through. One massive step cracked the earth like an earthquake, and the next shook my footing loose, dirt sliding as I struggled to stay upright.
The monster raised both arms, slow and deliberate, and slammed them into the ground.
I jumped back on instinct—then the shockwave hit anyway. The impact ripped through the forest with violent force, tearing me off my feet and hurling me sideways. I tumbled hard, skidding through dirt as trees groaned around me, some snapping outright as the ground collapsed inward. When the dust settled, a crater yawned where its fists had struck.
The monster moved again and started walking toward me. Each step obliterated the forest—trees ripped from the ground roots and all, earth folding under its weight. I fought to keep my footing, my body still unfamiliar, sticking at the worst moments while the ground rumbled under every step and stole my balance again and again.
Then I heard it—another roar, not as deep as the massive one, but close.
The fire dragon.
Its wings thundered behind me as it shoved through the foliage, embers shaking loose from its body with every beat—natural sparks that scattered into leaves and brush. Bushes flashed into flame the moment they touched. It locked onto me without hesitation, jaws opening as it exhaled.
A continuous stream of fire tore toward me—fast.
I twisted aside and the flame missed by a heartbeat, slamming into the giant monster's leg instead. The impact flared, orange light washing over the ridged hide. For a split second the fire dragon held the breath steady, pouring heat into the strike like it expected pain—like it expected the leg to buckle.
Nothing happened.
The giant didn't even shift.
The fire dragon's head tilted up as its eyes traced the leg, then the layered bulk, then the towering frame blotting out the treeline. The stream of fire thinned—not because it chose to, but because its breath caught. The flame shrank to a weaker line as the dragon stared, realizing what it had just challenged.
And that it couldn't win.
The monster's eyes shifted and locked onto the fire dragon. Anger—sharp and focused—rolled off it in crushing waves, pressure so dense it felt like the air had thickened. The fire dragon staggered mid-step, its frame trembling under the weight of that gaze.
The giant didn't move. It didn't need to.
It just stared.
I didn't hesitate. While it focused on the thing that had dared to strike it, I darted behind the fallen trunk of a massive tree and flattened myself against the ground. If I stayed still, maybe I could wait it out.
The fire dragon froze, every muscle seized rigid. The monster growled, and the dragon staggered back as terror finally caught up to it.
Footsteps crunched closer—careless and annoyed. The human shoved through the foliage behind the fire dragon, stepping over scorched trunks and smoking brush, boots grinding ash into the dirt as he came into view.
"What are you doing?" he snapped. "Did you lose it? You're so use—"
He followed the dragon's gaze. His eyes lifted and locked onto the monster.
The confidence didn't drain.
It shattered.
He went still, like his body had forgotten how to move. His arm shot up on instinct, then locked halfway—hand trembling as he realized it wouldn't matter.
What is he doing? Summoning more monsters?
Slowly, his arm lowered.
"…No way," he whispered. "Level thirty-four? That shouldn't be here."
Panic crushed whatever arrogance he'd been holding onto. He raised his arm toward the fire dragon, light flaring around his forearm as the dragon was dragged inward—its body collapsing into a stream of ember-red light that spiraled into his arm and vanished.
Then he ran.
Not a retreat.
Pure panic.
He tore through the forest, boots slipping on ash and loose dirt as he sprinted between scorched trunks, screaming, "MOVE! RUN—GET OUT OF HERE! IT'S—!"
The words broke apart as the forest erupted. A deafening growl tore through the air as the massive monster surged after him—each step a rolling earthquake that made the ground jump and split. Trees shattered like twigs. Trunks snapped and flew. The distance between them closed with terrifying speed.
I pressed myself tighter against the log and didn't move, barely breathing as the earth bucked beneath me in constant waves—shock after shock crawling through the dirt and into my body, trying to shake me loose.
I held still anyway.
If anything noticed me now, I was dead.
The human screamed again, then again, and the sound faded—swallowed by distance and shaking earth. Heavy impacts followed: one stomp, then another, each one digging a crater into the forest floor with a dull, crushing boom that threw dirt and splintered roots into the air. Then came a deeper impact—both fists—and the ground buckled as a shockwave rolled through the trees and slammed into my log hard enough to rattle my bones.
I stayed still while the destruction moved farther away, tremors stretching out and thinning with distance. A distant scream echoed through the forest, then another, and then the sound of something very large colliding with something much smaller.
Hard.
Final.
My body clenched—not fear, not relief. Something colder settled instead, a tight, instinctive satisfaction that made my stomach twist.
That's what you get.
For killing my parents.
The words felt strange even in my head. They hadn't really been my parents; they were… something else. But my body didn't care. It felt it anyway, like the world had corrected itself—like something inside me approved of the human's screaming, approved of the punishment, no matter how ugly it was.
And that was the part that unsettled me most.
Because I didn't feel satisfied.
My body did.
I stared at the forest floor as ash drifted down around me, the air thick with smoke and silence.
The system wasn't wrong. Mimic Larvae really were experience fodder.
I'm never wrong.
I flinched. Don't—
I forced myself to exhale. The forest was still shaking in my head—screams, fire, the weight of that thing moving through the trees. I sat there for a moment, gathering the pieces of my thoughts five minutes into a life I didn't recognize, then asked anyway:
The human mentioned something about levels. What does that mean?
You gain levels by killing monsters.
I guess that was obvious.
Stupid question.
The words didn't feel spoken so much as placed inside my head.
I blinked.
Why are you being like this?
Silence.
That silence said more than an answer would have. Some of the tightness in my chest eased—just a fraction—before I looked down at my weak, sticky body. Leaves and thin branches were embedded in me, half-sunk into jelly-like flesh like I'd been rolled through glue. I reached up and pinched one; when I pulled, my body stretched with it, stringing out in a tacky strand that refused to let go.
Disgust crawled up my spine.
I tugged harder. The strand thinned—thinner—then snapped free with a wet tear, the branch finally ripping loose. I stared at the torn edge of myself as it slowly sagged back into shape.
What has my life come to?
I listened, but the forest didn't answer.
If I wanted to survive this world, I'd have to learn fast. Something shifted out there—quiet and unseen—just enough to make the leaves whisper, and then it stopped.
And I realized I had no idea what was out there.
Or how dangerous this place really was.