Chapter 7 – The First Hunt
The forest at night was a completely different world with the new eyes.
Shades of gray and blue stretched between the trees. Every movement of a leaf, every breath of a distant animal, every scent of damp earth and old blood arrived with absurd clarity. The enhanced sense of smell caught the trail almost immediately: wild boars. Several of them. The strong smell of moss, dirty fur, and aggression.
The serpent moved beside him in complete silence. The blue horns cut through the gloom. She did not attack. She only watched. The intention that reached him was clear and patient:
Show me.
He understood.
It was not for her to hunt for him. It was for him to prove what he had become.
The first boar appeared in a small clearing, rooting in the ground. It was large, muscular, the yellowed tusks gleaming under the moonlight. An ordinary human would have hesitated. The old Ghost Rat would have fled or prepared a trap.
He did neither.
The new body moved on its own.
The four-times-greater agility carried him to the nearest shadow in the blink of an eye. The claws dug into the bark of a tree as he climbed without effort. The long, forked tongue came out, tasting the air, confirming the exact position of the animal. Night vision showed every tense muscle of the boar.
He leapt.
The flexible body twisted in the air in a way no human could. The claws found the animal's neck at the same instant his feet touched the ground. The doubled strength broke its resistance immediately. Venom flowed from the fangs and entered the flesh. The boar writhed only once and fell.
Silence.
The serpent approached slowly. The intention that came was approval mixed with something like pride.
More.
They continued.
The second and third boars were hunted in different ways. With the second, he used speed to appear in front of the animal and spit venom directly into its eyes. With the third, he used the absurd flexibility of his body to partially coil around a tree trunk and drop exactly onto the prey, the claws opening the throat before the boar could react.
Every movement was a strange mixture.
The beast's instinct told him where to attack. Human intellect calculated angles, distances, the best moment. The new body responded as if it had been born for this. He was surprised more than once by the ease. Jumps that should have broken bones were smooth. Impacts that should have hurt were absorbed. Breathing remained controlled even after three quick kills.
When the fourth boar fell, he stopped.
His chest rose and fell slowly. Blood dripped from the black claws. The metallic taste of venom still lingered under his tongue. The pink viper eyes scanned the forest for more movement.
The serpent partially coiled around his legs. Her head rose to his chest. The forked tongue cleaned a drop of blood that had splashed on his skin. The intention that arrived was clear and warm:
Good.
He looked at his own hands.
Claws. Venom. Strength. Speed. Flexibility.
And the still-human mind calculating every step.
For the first time since he had been reincarnated, he did not feel like he was merely surviving.
He felt like he was at the top of the food chain.
The serpent grabbed one of the boars with her mouth and began moving back toward the cave. The intention was simple:
Eat.
He followed her, his body still charged with adrenaline, the new senses capturing every detail of the forest around them.
The Ghost Rat was dead.
In his place walked something the forest did not yet know.