The beast leapt forward, its muscles rippling under coarse fur, and in one swift, horrifying motion, it bit down hard on the young man's shoulder.
"Ahhhhh!!! Help me!!!" the boy screamed, his voice cracking with pain and desperation. The beast's jagged fangs tore through flesh like paper, and with a violent shake of its head, it tried to rip the shoulder clean from the body. Blood sprayed into the air, splattering against the tree bark and staining the leaves below.
People screamed, their earlier curiosity about the artifact instantly replaced with sheer, primal fear. Panic erupted like wildfire. No one waited for an explanation. No one tried to be a hero. They ran. In every direction. Screaming. Pushing. Fleeing.
Kyle stood frozen for a moment. His instincts screamed at him to run as well, and his feet even twitched in place, ready to bolt. But the sound of the young man's screams pierced something in him. It wasn't just sound—it was agony. Fear. A voice not just in pain, but in disbelief that this was even happening.
Kyle's jaw clenched. Even though this was supposed to be a game, it felt too real. The pain. The blood. The terror. Everything screamed real. The boy couldn't have been more than twenty, just like him. And he was being torn apart like some NPC in a horror simulation.
Kyle glanced around, heart racing. He spotted a rock and without thinking, hurled it at the beast. It bounced off the creature's side with a dull thud. The beast barely flinched. It looked up, eyes cold and gleaming, then resumed biting, this time sinking its fangs into the young man's side.
Kyle looked around again. There had to be something—anything—he could do. That was when his eyes landed on the artifact.
It glowed softly, almost beckoning. That was it. That was what the beast was guarding. Kyle's brain worked fast. If he could get it, maybe the beast would stop. Maybe it would follow him instead.
His legs moved before his brain could finish the thought. He sprinted towards the artifact, feet pounding on the soft earth. The cries behind him blurred into white noise. All that mattered was the artifact. It sat beside the tree, pulsing gently, looking more like a large, glassy egg than anything of power.
The moment his fingers touched it, it vanished into thin air.
DING.
A translucent screen flashed before his eyes:
[Artifact +1]
[+1000$]
[+10hrs]
[Balance: $1000]
[Time remaining: 33:53:36]
Kyle barely had time to blink. The creature's snarl echoed behind him. He turned just in time to see the beast locking eyes with him. It dropped the mangled boy like a toy and let out a guttural growl. Then it lunged.
"Shit, shit, shit!" Kyle hissed under his breath and ran.
Branches slapped his face. Twigs snapped underfoot. Leaves flew past his vision. His lungs screamed for air, his legs pumped like pistons. The beast was faster. It crashed through the underbrush like a freight train. Kyle didn't dare look back. He could feel it. The hot breath, the thunderous steps.
Every nerve in his body screamed in panic. He dodged a fallen log, slid beneath low-hanging branches, jumped over a pile of rocks. The forest seemed endless, yet the beast never slowed.
Then he saw it.
A cliff.
He couldn't see the bottom, only a dark chasm stretching down into the earth. It was the end of the line. If the beast didn't get him, the fall surely would. But then, he spotted something.
A vine. Thick, green, hanging from a sturdy branch just near the cliff's edge. If he could grab it, swing across... maybe he could trick the beast.
It was a stupid plan. Suicidal. But it was the only one he had.
He closed his eyes just for a second, drew in one long breath, and when they opened again, he was already at the edge. He leapt.
His hand closed around the vine.
He held on for dear life.
The wind howled past his ears as he swung out into the open void. The cliff face rushed past him on one side, the darkness below on the other. The beast reached the edge just seconds later and, without a second thought, jumped after him.
For a horrifying second, Kyle thought it would reach him mid-air. Its claws swiped inches from his feet. Then it roared, a frustrated, bone-rattling sound as gravity took hold. It fell. Down. Down. Until the echo of its cry faded into the chasm.
Kyle's breath caught in his throat.
He made it.
He swung back toward the cliff.
His heart pounded in his chest like a war drum, a mix of adrenaline and relief washing over him. He actually did it. He beat the beast. He was alive.
And then, snap.
His eyes widened.
A cracking sound. Subtle at first, then louder. His gaze shot up.
The vine.
It was tearing.
One last creak. One final snap.
Kyle's body dropped, still mid-swing, still above the abyss.
And the world turned upside down.
•
•
•
The vine snapped.
Kyle screamed as he plummeted downward into the endless dark pit below. The rush of wind deafened his ears, the world becoming a blur of sound and movement. His heart pounded so fast it felt like it might explode.
Silence.
Suddenly, a hand shot out from the edge of the cliff, slamming into the jagged wall just beneath the ridge. Then the other followed. With grit teeth and burning arms, Kyle hauled himself up, dragging the rest of his body over the edge like a survivor crawling out of the mouth of death.
He collapsed on the ground, breathing hard, his chest rising and falling rapidly as the adrenaline still coursed through his veins. His fingers trembled as he stared at them—he was alive. Barely. The moment the vine snapped, he had twisted his body midair and used the momentum to swing forward, reaching for the jagged cliffside. Pure instinct. Pure luck.
Lying on the ground, the weight of what had just happened pressed down on him. He had absorbed the artifact. It wasn't a dream. A thousand dollars. Just like that.
He opened his palm and stared at the glowing numbers on his skin.
[Balance: $1000]
[Time Remaining: 33:53:36]
Not even ten minutes had passed in the game. Ten minutes… and he'd already danced with death. His body still ached, not from actual injury, but from the raw tension of survival. He looked around. No one had seen him grab the artifact. Good. That was the only thing that mattered right now. The less people knew, the safer he'd be. In a place like this, he couldn't afford to become a target.
Still catching his breath, he sat up slowly and scanned the tree line behind him. The forest was quiet again, eerily so, as if nothing had happened. But the silence was misleading. Somewhere in the dense brush, there were others, probably hunting, probably panicking, maybe even dying.
Kyle stood up, brushing the dust from his suit. His clothes were still clean despite everything, the black and grey material flexible and strangely durable. Whatever tech this game used, it was far ahead of anything he had seen. It felt too real.
He decided to head back. He had to check on the young man. The idiot who screamed and gave himself away—Kyle couldn't forget his scream. It echoed in his ears, almost louder than the wind in his freefall earlier.
When Kyle got back to the area, he saw a small group gathered around the same tree where the artifact had once been. His footsteps slowed as he approached quietly, trying to blend in without drawing attention.
The scene was grim.
The young man lay in a puddle of blood, his eyes wide open and lifeless, mouth slightly parted as if stuck in a final breath. A couple of players, maybe no older than Kyle himself, were kneeling beside him, checking for a pulse that wasn't there, pressing cloth against wounds too deep to fix. Others stood in a half-circle around them, some whispering, some in stunned silence.
Kyle stepped closer. The boy had bled out. Completely. Torn in multiple places. His body didn't disappear like in a regular game. There was no flash of light, no log-out animation. Just blood. Flesh. Death.
Some people were clearly disturbed. A few had turned away to puke. One girl, hands still stained red, sat on the ground staring at nothing.
"He's dead," someone whispered finally. "He's really… dead."
Kyle swallowed and looked away.
Stupid.
The boy had been stupid. Too excited. Too loud. Too cocky. And now he was a corpse with nothing to show for it. No artifact. No money. Just pain and screams before his final breath.
Kyle's eyes dropped to the floor again. Blood still pooled under the body. The scent of it, coppery and thick, hung in the air like a fog. He didn't need to see more. He had confirmed what he needed.
He sighed heavily and turned away.
"At least if I die now, I've got a thousand bucks," he muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for anyone to hear.
Nobody responded. Either they didn't hear or didn't want to. Fine by him.
He didn't come here to mourn. This was not a place for tears or pity. This was a game. Or so they said. But it felt more like a battlefield. A twisted hunt where death was real, and money was the bait.
"This is one hell of a game," Kyle whispered as he looked down at the boy one last time.
He walked away without another word.
The sound of leaves crunching under his boots echoed louder in his ears now. He didn't look back, not even once. There was no point. The dead couldn't talk. The living had to keep moving. And Kyle… Kyle had much bigger things to take care of than standing around a bleeding corpse.
He melted into the trees again, leaving the small crowd behind, disappearing into the vast unknown of the forest where artifacts waited and dangers lurked behind every tree.
His journey had only just begun.
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