I stayed hidden behind the log for hours, long enough for the last echoes of destruction to fade and the smoke to thin into a bitter haze that didn't sting as much when I breathed.
Time gave me space to pull my thoughts out of the mud. But it didn't give me the answers I wanted.
One thing was certain.
I wasn't human anymore.
That much was undeniable. I had a system I didn't understand in a world I didn't recognize, where monsters grew stronger by killing other monsters and humans treated that like a game. If they realized I wasn't like the others, they wouldn't hesitate. They'd take me alive, cut me open, and figure out what I was before I even knew.
I had to become stronger—not to be a hero, not to "save" anything. Just strong enough to decide whether I would be prey or not.
System.
Yes?
Show me my stats.
The response was instant, like it had been waiting with the page open.
HP: 10 / 10
MP: 0 / 0
Attack: Lv.1
Defense: Lv.1
Speed: Lv.1
Vitality: Lv.1
Perception: Lv.1
Resolve: Lv.1
I stared at the list until it stopped looking like a bad joke and started looking like a death sentence.
I don't even have any MP? That's just unfair.
You do not possess abilities that consume MP.
My flesh clung to the bark as I shifted, grass sticking to me in tacky threads. I hated how natural it was. How am I supposed to survive like this? No abilities. This weak body—
Mimic Larvae are not born with abilities. You can acquire them.
I clenched whatever counted as my jaw. And until then?
Stop whining. It is not impossible. Even for you.
That hit harder than it should've. I wanted to bite back, but the truth was sitting right there in my stats: whining didn't add a single point to anything.
I exhaled slowly, until my body loosened a fraction.
If you were trapped in this body, you'd complain too.
My comment was met with silence.
Fine. The system was right. Complaining wouldn't change anything. The only way forward was simple.
Kill something—whether I wanted to or not.
I didn't have a choice.
I stared at the stats again. Everything at level one. Of course this body was built to fail. If a human didn't end me, something in the wild would—something like that level thirty-four monstrosity.
I carefully peeked out from behind the log.
Nothing. No movement. No voices. No glow of flame. Ash still drifted down in lazy flakes, settling on bark and leaves like the forest was trying to cover up what had just happened.
I pulled myself up and eased over the log, careful not to make it roll or crack or do anything that would announce me. The forest stayed docile—just wind, distant leaves, nothing rushing in to finish me.
Then I started moving.
Every step peeled me off the ground with sticky resistance, my body clinging without permission, like it didn't understand the concept of letting go. The sounds were worse—soft, wet pulls each time I lifted a limb, branches scraping and catching on me before tearing free again.
How am I supposed to stay hidden when my body keeps sticking to the world?
I shoved my way through the tighter trees, forcing my body between trunks and low branches until the forest opened up ahead. A river cut through the brush—clear and shallow, moving with an easy, steady flow. The surface caught the blue sky above and threw it back in broken pieces, sunlight glinting as the water slid past like nothing in the world was wrong.
I drifted closer, and the sight of the water sparked a thought I hadn't had room for until now. I hadn't felt thirsty once. Not even a dry mouth. No ache in my throat. And I hadn't felt hungry either—not even a hollow twist in my gut.
That absence made me uneasy. Like my body had quietly skipped a basic survival rule and never bothered to tell me.
System… what do mimics eat?
They do not eat or drink.
Relief came out of me as a small breath I hadn't meant to let go of. Convenient. Finally—one piece of good news. At least I wouldn't have to gnaw on raw monster meat while pretending that was normal.
The thought alone made my stomach try to flip.
I edged closer to the water, and my reflection slid into view—warped and wrong. I flinched on instinct, because watching that ugly thing move when I moved made it impossible to pretend anymore.
That was me.
My eyes didn't line up. My mouth sat slightly wrong. The rest of my face kept shifting in tiny adjustments that never settled, like it couldn't decide where it was supposed to sit.
I held still, waiting for it to settle.
It never did.
…I really have to live with this.
I closed my eyes for a second and let that thought sink in—heavy and unavoidable.
When I opened them, the water rippled so faintly I almost missed it. The ripple was so slight I almost blamed it on my own face doing what it always did—shifting, correcting, never landing. My reflection smeared for a heartbeat, features sliding into something uglier, and I thought, Of course. Even the water can't hold me still.
Then the surface trembled again. Just a hair more.
And the face looking back wasn't just "wrong" in the way mine was wrong. It was different.
Something took shape behind my reflection, like a second image pressing up from underneath. My eyes in the water darkened—then flashed a cold blue. My mouth pulled wider than it should've and sharpened into teeth that didn't belong to me.
The shape held, patient and wrong, staring up at me from beneath the surface.
For a split second my mind managed, What is—
Then the realization hit too fast to finish the thought. My body snapped back on pure instinct, the movement starting somewhere deep in my spine—
Water erupted.
A hideous fish-like head burst from the surface and a massive jaw snapped shut inches from where my face had been, rows of sharp teeth clacking together with a wet violent sound. Air hissed through gills. Then it dropped back under in a blur, the surface slapping closed like nothing had happened.
I stumbled backward, sticky limbs dragging, pulse hammering in places I couldn't locate. For a moment I saw it again just beneath the surface, circling—a pale shape cutting lazy rings through the water, eyes tracking me through ripples like it was deciding whether I was worth the effort.
Then it sank.
Down into the dark.
I paused, waiting for my heartbeat to stop trying to punch its way out of me.
Everything wants me dead.
I didn't move on right away.
I eased back toward the river, slow, keeping my distance like the water might lunge again if I gave it the chance. Part of me was already doing the ugly math—I need to kill something. If it's still there maybe I can kill it somehow.
I stopped where I could still retreat in one motion and stared into the surface.
Nothing.
No ripples. No shadow circling beneath. Just my own warped reflection staring back at me like it had never been interrupted.
I accepted it. Whatever was in the river was gone—or smart enough to stay gone. And I couldn't manufacture a "safe" kill out of thin air.
So I moved on.
The forest thickened as I pushed deeper, and the sun shifted overhead, throwing longer shadows between the trunks. The light started to angle in a way that made everything twitch at the edge of my vision—dark shapes stretching, leaves swaying—and I kept second-guessing myself. Was something moving?
Or was it just my imagination trying to keep me alive?
Then I heard it.
A howl—close enough that my body reacted before my thoughts did. I shot behind the widest tree I could find, putting the trunk between me and the sound, and pressed myself to the bark until I was nothing but another patch of shadow on wood.
The howls came again, and this time I could tell where they were coming from—rough direction, not exact, but enough. Curiosity hooked into me hard. Stupid, considering everything else out here wanted me dead, but it wouldn't let go.
I moved anyway.
Slow. Careful. Keeping to cover, making sure there was always a trunk or a curtain of leaves between me and the open. A few minutes later the trees thinned just enough for me to see a ridge ahead.
Two shapes stood on it.
Wolves.
I frowned as I studied them. Wolves—at least at first glance. Same outline, same low stance.
But they didn't move like normal wolves. Their bodies were too clean, too controlled, like everything unnecessary had been carved off. Muscles sat tight under the fur, no slack anywhere.
One bared its teeth and the light flashed off them.
Too sharp.
More like thin little knives packed into its mouth.
My attention shifted from their appearance to their body language.
They weren't hunting.
They were facing each other.
Teeth bared.
They held still in a tense, wrong kind of patience—each one watching the other like they were measuring the exact moment to strike.
So the howling wasn't a call. It was a challenge.
They lunged, and the ridge went from still to chaos.
One wolf flashed left—just enough to draw the other's bite—then cut back in, claws carving across its shoulder as it twisted away. The second wolf answered immediately, jaws snapping shut and dragging hard, tearing fur and flesh in a wet streak.
They didn't "fight" so much as collide, break apart, and collide again—tight circles, sudden bursts, too fast for my eyes to track cleanly.
Claws and teeth kept trading places—flash, snap, tear—until the rocks started catching dark streaks of blood.
Then one wolf found the smallest opening. It slipped under a bite, drove its shoulder in, and smashed the other into the ground hard enough to make the ridge shake.
A thought formed, cold and practical, and it made my skin crawl because of how quickly it arrived.
If one of them dies… could I finish the other?
The dominant wolf didn't waste the chance. It dropped its weight and drove its jaws into the other's neck—deep, ugly. For a moment it held there, locked in, like it was finishing the job.
Then it jerked. Stuck.
Its bite had gone in too far, caught on something it couldn't rip free instantly. The wounded wolf went slack beneath it—body giving up—but the one on top was anchored there for a heartbeat, trapped by its own kill.
My heart kicked hard in my chest.
This is my chance.
I moved.
Sticky legs pumped, my body fighting itself as I forced speed out of it. The dominant wolf's eyes snapped to me and for a split second we locked onto each other. It tried to pull free—muscles bunching, paws scraping for grip—but its jaws were still caught in the other wolf's neck, balance pinned by its own kill.
I threw myself into its side.
It yelped and lost footing, and the force carried all three of us. The wolves went over the ridge together, still locked as they fell—and my momentum followed.
Too far.
The ground dropped away and I slid toward the edge with them, rock scraping under me. I slapped my hands down and my sticky flesh caught the stone and held, dragging and tearing as it fought the slide. I spread myself wider—palms, forearms, anything I could press into the rock—forcing more of my body to stick.
The pull of the drop tried to peel me free.
I held on anyway, stretching and slowing until I stopped just short of the cliff's edge.
I hung there for a breath with empty air beneath me, then hauled myself back enough to stand, breathing hard as the tremor in me turned into something that almost felt like relief.
…That was easy.
I waited—heart still racing, my body half-crouched.
Seconds passed.
No System message. No notification. No comforting little chime that said, good job, you didn't die.
Maybe it was just… a long fall.
A few more seconds slid by. Still nothing. My face tightened into a frown before I could stop it.
System.
Why didn't I level up?
You have not killed anything.
…What?
I sat up, then wobbled to the edge and carefully peeked over the ridge, pressing my sticky body to the rock so I wouldn't slip and follow them down.
One wolf lay sprawled and motionless—dead.
The other was still breathing, but barely, mangled from the fall and half-crushed into dirt. One leg bent the wrong way, ribs rising in shallow uneven pulls. It twitched in small helpless movements like it didn't know how to finish dying.
One of them is clearly dead.
You did not kill it. It died before impact.
That made something hot rise in me that had nowhere to go.
…That's unfair.
The injured wolf shuddered again. It couldn't stand. It couldn't run. It was just… there, waiting to be ended.
If I could finish it…
I scanned the terrain. No slope. No path. Only one way down.
Jumping.
I stared at the drop, then forced my eyes to my stats.
HP: 10 / 10.
If I landed on the wolf, it would break the fall—and the impact might finish it.
The fact that my mind went there so fast made me feel sick in a way my body didn't understand.
I forced myself to look down again.
My body was… squishy. That had to count for something, right? Not being human had to have one benefit. Maybe I'd splat and just… not break the way bones were supposed to break.
A stupid thought. A necessary one.
Okay. Okay.
I pressed myself to the rock one last time, peered over the edge, saw the injured wolf still twitching below—then pulled back.
I backed up, ran, and launched myself off the ledge screaming.
The world dropped out beneath me.
Air slammed into me so hard it felt like it was trying to peel me apart. Wind howled past whatever counted as my ears, ripping at my jelly-like body and hammering it from every side. My form went unstable mid-fall—stretching wrong, then snapping back.
Like my body didn't know how to fall.
And the sky was forcing it to learn.
The ground rushed up. I curled instinctively, trying to make myself into a ball just before impact.
I landed hard—but it wasn't cold dirt under me. It was fur.
Relief hit first. I hadn't missed.
Then I bounced—up into the air, once, then twice—body too soft to catch itself, no control over where I was going as the cliff edge rushed closer.
I flung an arm out as the ground vanished beneath me.
"No—!" I screamed.
My flesh slapped the rock face and stuck—barely. My body swung out over open air, legs kicking at nothing while dirt crumbled away below. I felt myself sliding, grip wavering, my shape stretching in the wrong places under my own weight.
I didn't have control yet. Not enough.
I forced my legs up, planted them against the stone, and used my own stickiness like a rope—pulling, dragging myself higher inch by inch. It was slow. It burned in places I couldn't name.
Finally I rolled back onto solid ground and just lay there, shaking, the air thick with dirt and panic.
…Yeah. That worked.
HP: 4 / 10
I stared at the number like it was a warning sign hammered into my skull.
The wolf lay crumpled where it had fallen, still breathing—barely. I didn't move for a moment. I just watched it struggle to keep doing something it no longer knew how to do.
I'd caused this.
And yeah, I needed the kill. I needed the levels. But standing there looking at it, mangled and helpless, it felt less like "progress" and more like putting something out of its misery.
I forced myself forward, limbs still trembling. I formed a crude, stubby arm—something solid enough to matter—and brought it down.
Once.
The wolf twitched.
Twice.
It went still.
For a second I just stared at the body, waiting for it to move again—waiting for some part of this to be a misunderstanding.
It didn't move.
The reality didn't settle gently. It dropped into me all at once.
I'd just killed something.
The rush bled out of me in one ugly drop. My body tried to gag on reflex—then nothing happened. No purge. No relief. Just a hollow, wrong quiet settling in where the adrenaline had been.
Silence pressed in.
Then the system spoke.
Achievement Unlocked: First Kill
EXP Gained: 80
Yes—
The word slipped out before I could stop it, too quick, too eager, and it made my skin crawl the moment it existed.
That sounds like a lot.
The realization landed, heavy and ugly: I'd just ended a living thing, and my first reaction wasn't horror. It was math. It was progress.
Level Up
Level Up
Level Up
Level Up
Level Up
Level Up
You are now Level 7.
I stared as the messages stacked, one after another, like the System was congratulating me for doing what the world demanded.
Because this was what survival meant here.
Kill or be killed.
Another message appeared.
New Ability Unlocked: Mimic Copy
Mimic Copy:
Grants a low chance to copy an ability from a monster you kill.
Abilities are unstable, and may carry side effects.
My grin spread before I could stop it.
Copying abilities? That's amazing.
Then I kept reading: low chance, unstable, may carry side effects—and my grin died in my throat.
…Why do I even bother?
Of course it couldn't just be simple. Still, I forced myself to check my stats.
HP: 4 / 25
MP: 5 / 5
Attack: Lv.2
Defense: Lv.2
Speed: Lv.5
Vitality: Lv.2
Perception: Lv.3
Resolve: Lv.2
That was… much better. For the first time since waking up, I didn't feel like guaranteed prey.
…I might actually survive this world.
The thought barely finished forming before something colder followed it.
Survival here wasn't about running. It wasn't about hiding.
It was about killing first.
Somewhere deeper in the forest, a wolf howled again—louder, lower—and this time it wasn't just noise. It carried weight. Intent. Like something calling the territory back into line.
The forest answered.
Not quiet—dead. The wind stopped. Leaves froze mid-sway. Even the insects cut out as if the whole region had been forced to hold its breath.
Then the undergrowth shifted.
Something was close—and whatever it was, it didn't sound pleased.