A strange, tingling sensation crawled across his body, and Vivian slowly tried to open his eyes. But the attempt sent a wave of searing pain through his head and his eyes, making his brow furrow in distress. Blinking against the discomfort, he finally managed to look up—and discovered that he was lying beneath a sprawling willow tree.
Across his body, an odd, vividly colored insect was crawling. It was far larger than any ordinary bug, roughly the size of a full-grown gecko. Alarmed by the thought that it might be venomous, Vivian groped for something nearby and found a dry branch. With a swift shove, he knocked the creature off his chest.
The insect scurried away, disappearing up the trunk of the willow. Following its path with his eyes, Vivian saw that the tree was crawling with dozens, no, hundreds of such creatures. Without hesitation, he scrambled out from beneath the tree's canopy.
It was only then, as he scanned his surroundings, that full consciousness seemed to return. He was alone, standing in the heart of a strange, dense, and foreboding forest. But… he and the others had been in a park.
In a city park.
Not here.
At the base of the willow lay his bag. Vivian snatched it up and glanced around, hoping to spot the others. But there wasn't another human soul in sight. Desperate, he rummaged in his pocket and pulled out phone. By some stroke of luck, it was still there. But luck did not extend to the network. No signal reached this hidden forest.
"Chris?" he called, his voice echoing eerily through the trees.
Then, louder, "Moran?"
Vivian felt lost, completely disoriented. Which way should he go? He paused, shielding his eyes and searching for the sun through gaps in the treetops. It was low in the sky, already leaning toward the horizon.
West.
He could at least follow the sun.
Resolute, he began walking, still calling out, "Fornax? Miram?"
Then, a voice. A girl's voice, faint but unmistakable.
"Vivian, is that you?"
He froze, eyes narrowing toward a thicket that seemed to rustle in response. Cautiously, he stepped forward. Along the way, his foot brushed against a thick, dry branch. Sturdy enough to be of use. He picked it up.
"Who's there?" he demanded, keeping his voice steady.
"Vivian… help me," came the voice again.
The second time, Vivian thought he recognized it. Or at least had an idea who it might be. Carefully, he parted the dense undergrowth.
And there, partially hidden by the brush, he saw the silhouette of a woman.
"Miram?!"
Miram was sitting near the base of a massive, fallen tree. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her right leg, which was clearly stuck. Hearing Vivian's voice, she turned her head over her shoulder, her face drawn with pain and frustration.
"Help me," she said in a voice filled with discomfort. "My leg's stuck."
Vivian moved closer and saw the problem. Miram's right foot was trapped between two thick, twisted roots protruding from the dead tree. He tried prying them apart with his bare hands, attempting to create enough space to free Miram's leg, but his efforts were in vain. Giving up for the moment, he stood and looked around.
After a short while, Vivian returned, holding the jawbone of an animal. Its teeth were sharp, predatory. Likely from a large, possibly monstrous creature.
Kneeling beside Miram, he muttered, "Let's hope this works."
Fortunately, since the tree was dead, it didn't take much effort. Bit by bit, he hacked away at the root, the bone's jagged edge cutting through the fibrous wood. Eventually, one segment gave way, and Miram was able to pull her foot free. She immediately removed her shoe and sock. Deep, reddish impressions from the roots marked her skin where it had been pinched and compressed.
Vivian looked concerned. "Are you alright? Can you walk?"
Miram nodded silently but firmly. After putting her sock and shoe back on, she stood.
"Have you found the others yet?"
"No," Vivian replied. "There's no signal here either. I can't even try calling them."
"The lightning," Miram said as she slung her bag over her shoulder and rose to her feet. "I think it opened some kind of strange, supernatural doorway and it pulled us into this forest."
Under normal circumstances, Vivian might have laughed off such a theory. But now, he couldn't ignore the possibility. What other explanation made sense for how they had ended up here?
She turned toward a nearby tree and began carving a mark into its bark with the same bone he had used earlier.
"Let's go. We need to look for the others. Stay alert. Danger could be anywhere."
As they walked, they began calling out their friends' names at intervals. Every so often, Vivian etched a large capital V into the bark of prominent trees to mark their path.
After what felt like a long walk, they reached a damp, marshy patch of ground. Miram looked down, then pointed.
"Someone's been this way."
Footprints, distinct and fresh were pressed into the wet soil, leading further ahead.
Vivian nodded, "Let's follow them."
"What if it's dangerous?" Miram hesitatingly asked.
Vivian's voice was calm but firm, "Worrying about danger while standing in the middle of an unknown, uncharted forest is pointless, Miram. Everything here is a threat. We just have to keep moving."
Vivian's logical response didn't warrant any further argument from Miram. Both of them continued forward with cautious steps. The forest grew denser, and the thick canopy above cast deep shadows, allowing only a sliver of fading light to filter through the leaves. From that dim glow, it was evident, the sun was nearing the horizon.
A short while later, they both heard a voice. Someone was calling their names.
Recognizing the voice, Miram abruptly pushed ahead, moving faster than Vivian. Alarmed, Vivian called after her in warning,
"Miram, wait! Be careful. That may not be one of us!"
But Miram ignored his caution. She had already caught sight of a male silhouette ahead.
"Fornax!" she called out, hope laced in her voice.
Fornax had been moving slowly and carefully toward his left, calling out for his friends just as the other two had been doing. When he suddenly heard a familiar voice call his name from behind, he turned swiftly.
Relief softened his features as he recognized two familiar figures approaching him. He stepped toward them with a visible smile.
Miram ran straight into Fornax's arms, holding him tightly. He reciprocated the embrace without hesitation. In that moment, the overwhelming dread of the unknown seemed to subside—if only slightly. They had found each other. They were alive.
Vivian, standing at a distance, watched them with a hardened expression, then turned his gaze away.
Fornax gently cupped Miram's cheeks and asked,
"Are you alright, Star?"
She nodded silently, her breath still uneven but her eyes more at ease.
Letting out a deep breath, Fornax turned his attention to Vivian, who stood a few steps away.
"And you? Are you okay?"
"Physically, yes," he replied tersely. His voice was clipped, eyes sharp as they scanned their surroundings.
"We shouldn't waste any more time. We still haven't found Chris and Moran."
The three of them continued their journey, trudging deeper into the unknown wilderness. Yet there was still no sign of the remaining two.
Miram, fatigued from constant walking, leaned against a tree to catch her breath. Her voice cracked as she swallowed dryly and asked,
"What if we're going the wrong way?"
Vivian replied with a dry click of his tongue,
"Tsk…We're not in a place where 'right' and 'wrong' paths exist in any meaningful way."
Though there was a desire to continue the conversation, they were interrupted before they could. A piercing scream rang out in the distance.
A woman's voice. Sharp and desperate.
Then a second scream, louder, more terrified.
Miram straightened instantly, all exhaustion forgotten. Her eyes wide, her voice trembled.
"Moran… That was Moran's voice!"
No sooner had Miram uttered her words than the same chilling scream echoed again. With focused attention, Vivian and Fornax could now confirm the truth in her voice.
Without delay, the three of them rushed in the direction from which the female voice had come. As they pressed forward, they realized they were venturing deeper into the forest.
Here, the trees were even taller, thicker, and older. The ground was carpeted with damp leaves. Likely soaked by mist or rain. Every step they took produced a wet squelch instead of the dry rustle of foliage.
After a short distance, Vivian raised his head and spotted a second feminine figure ahead.
It was Moran.
She was sprinting toward them, her head turned back, her gaze locked on something behind her. Unable to watch where she was going, she collided abruptly with Vivian's sturdy form and came to a jarring halt.
Vivian caught her by both arms to steady her and asked urgently,
"What happened? Why were you screaming and running like that?"
Moran was trembling from head to toe, her breath shallow, voice unsteady. She pointed behind her with a shaking hand and stammered,
"Snake... A huge snake, Vivian, it—"
She didn't finish her sentence.
Her eyes caught Vivian's wide, horrified stare and then noticed that all three of them were staring at something behind her, completely still.
Slowly, Moran turned to look.
And then she saw it.
Slithering across the leaf-covered ground, a monstrous snake was making its way toward them, its thick, massive body rippling like a twisting river. Its scales were mottled green, reminiscent of an anaconda, but it wasn't a normal anaconda. For one, it moved too quickly on land, much faster than the sluggish pace typical of its kind. The creature must have been at least 28 to 30 feet in length.
Realizing the imminent danger, Vivian tightened his grip around Moran's wrist, turned to the others with wide, terrified eyes, and shouted,
"We have to run. Now!"
The four of them immediately turned and sprinted in the opposite direction. As they fled, Vivian periodically glanced back to gauge the snake's distance.
Noticing this, Fornax snapped sharply at him,
"Turning around repeatedly while running is the height of foolishness, Vivian. All it does is slow you down. Unless you want to become that thing's dinner, keep your eyes forward and run."
Vivian, breathless and shaken, couldn't summon a reply. All that mattered now was escape.
As they ran for their lives, thorny vines and brambles tore through their exposed skin. Especially the girls' uncovered legs. Leaving behind fresh cuts and stinging scratches.
At one point, a sharp, jarring hiss rang out, forcing all four to halt momentarily. Turning their heads, they saw an arrow embedded deep into the serpent's body. The snake let out a horrific shriek of pain, something none of them had ever imagined a snake could do. For a brief moment, fear gave way to stunned disbelief.
Then, with a soft whistle, another arrow sliced through the air and struck the beast again.
The hooded serpent shuddered, reeling from the attack, lowering its massive form in agony. A third arrow followed and then fourth, this time piercing it at the base of its neck. The creature quivered violently, its monstrous body sending tremors through the ground, then finally collapsed, twitching, onto the leaf-littered earth.
Breathless, the four of them stood before the fallen titan, gasping for air. Vivian took off his thick sweater and held it in hand. His entire body drenched in sweat from the combination of heat and fear.
What had just happened?
How had it happened?
And most of all—who had done it?
None of them had the answers.
"How did you get here? And why?"
The calm but commanding voice of a man drew their attention. All four turned to see a young man standing just a short distance away. He was strikingly built, tall and strong .But his face was worn and pale, as if untouched by care for years. His clothes were filthy, clearly unwashed for a long time. In his hand, he held a bow and arrows. Not of metal, but crafted from wood and bamboo. The sharpened arrowheads appeared to be made from bone, likely that of a beast.
Suddenly, Christoph emerged from behind a thick tree, a flaming torch in hand. Unlike the others, it was he who responded first.
"They're my friends. I thought I was the only one who'd been dragged into this... whatever this is," he said, smiling as he approached and clapped Fornax and Vivian on their shoulders.
"I honestly thought you two were dead. I even went through your little... 'mourning phase.'"
Fornax glared at Christoph, clearly unamused, but no one replied to the joke. Only Moran allowed herself the faintest twitch of a smile. The rest stood quietly, eyes fixed on the stranger before them. Alert and wary.
Breaking the silence, Miram asked,
"Who is he?"
"Rizel Garnett," Christoph answered.
"He was the first person I saw after I woke up here. And he said, he's been stuck in this jungle, just like us, since last year."
Vivian's eyes widened in disbelief.
"Since last year?" he echoed.
"You've survived in this cursed forest, completely alone, for an entire year?"
Before responding, Rizel offered a faint smile. With a simple gesture, he beckoned them to follow and began moving ahead. Only then did he reply,
"The same way every living creature survives in the natural world. Through struggle. Through relentless battle."
All, except Christoph, hesitated. Though Rizel had just saved them from a monstrous serpent, the others were unsure whether following him was truly safe.
Rizel paused and looked over his shoulder.
"The jungle becomes far more dangerous at night," he said plainly. "You won't last without weapons. Come with me. Take shelter for the night. At dawn, you're free to go wherever you wish."
His words were oddly casual, as if it made little difference to him whether they agreed or not.
With no better alternative and Christoph's quiet assurance, they agreed to go.
Rizel had constructed a crude but sturdy shelter; thick tree branches anchored into the ground, layered and sealed with soil, now dried and hardened into makeshift walls. Even the roof was caked with compacted mud. It wasn't elegant, but it was safe.
Outside, they gathered dry woods and lit a fire. For dinner, they roasted wild rabbit meat over the flames. After some time, Rizel remarked,
"You must all be exhausted. Get some rest. I'll keep watch out here."
No one argued. The day's surreal events had drained them completely. One by one, they shuffled inside the small hut, crowding together on the dirt floor. Within minutes, they fell into deep, dreamless sleep.
But their peace was short-lived.
Somewhere outside, something heavy slammed to the ground. The impact caused the hut to tremble slightly.
Miram stirred, her heartbeat quickening. She opened her eyes and looked around. On one side lay Moran, on the other Fornax, who was still holding her hand in his sleep. Gently, she slipped free from his grasp and crept out of the hut.
The first light of dawn had begun to seep through the dense jungle canopy, casting dim shadows across the forest floor. Even so, light barely touched the ground.
Outside, Miram spotted something by the extinguished firepit. A dead deer, collapsed with its tongue hanging out and clouded eyes staring blankly into nothingness. A red-feathered arrow was embedded deep in its throat. Thick, warm blood still trickled down its fur, soaking into the soil.
Rizel stood nearby, tossing more dry wood into the fire. Then, without a word, he picked up a machete and began skinning the deer with swift, practiced movements.
Miram watched silently. The machete intrigued her. She had assumed Rizel wasn't the talkative type, and perhaps wouldn't even notice her.
But he proved her wrong.
Still focused on his task, he asked in his low, even voice,
"Did you sleep well?"
Miram nodded, but he didn't glance up to see it. She moved forward and sat near the fire, beside him. After a moment, she asked quietly,
"Did you stay up all night?"
"No."
She said nothing more, but something about his blunt tone made her feel oddly uneasy. Still, her curiosity pushed through.
"Where did you get that machete?"
At her question, Rizel allowed himself a small smile and glanced at her. For a moment, his worn face seemed almost warm.
Unintentionally, Miram smiled back, just faintly.
"It belonged to my father," he said. "He was a butcher."
Then he hesitated. His hands stilled, and he gave her a more direct look; brows slightly furrowed, a thoughtful crease forming on his forehead. With quiet caution, he asked,
"Would you… like to hear my story?"
"How you ended up in this jungle?"
Miram tilted her head, intrigued.
"Yes. I'd like that."
A spark lit Rizel's expression. For a moment, he looked far younger than before. He gave a small nod, then returned his attention to the deer.