Luciel's footsteps were deliberate as he made his way back through the forest. The stream was a fading memory behind him, its cool waters refreshing but fleeting.
The forest ahead stretched endlessly, its shadows growing longer as the sun dipped lower in the sky. He could feel the weight of the day on his body, but his mind was sharp—always alert, always calculating.
His hands still felt the residue of the stream's water, the sensation lingering on his skin. His injuries were healing, but there was no time to waste.
Each day, each moment, brought new challenges.
The forest was his only home now, and it had proven to be both unforgiving and full of hidden opportunities.
Luciel's eyes scanned the surrounding trees, searching for anything that might be useful. The trees loomed tall, their branches thick with foliage, and he knew that food and supplies were his priority.
He would have to rely on his knowledge of plants and the forest around him to stay alive.
As he walked, he considered his options. His body had grown accustomed to the steady rhythm of survival, and now it was second nature to him. His breath was steady, his focus unwavering. He could feel the small aches in his muscles, the lingering soreness from his wounds, but he knew that pushing through was the only choice.
Luciel's sharp eyes caught sight of something—a cluster of small, dark berries hanging from a nearby bush. He stopped in his tracks and crouched down, inspecting the fruit closely.
His fingers brushed over the surface of the berries, their skin smooth, their color dark, almost purple in the dim light of the forest.
Could they be edible?
Luciel frowned, analyzing them.
He couldn't be certain. While some berries were easily identifiable, others held dangers that could be lethal. He wasn't about to take any risks without confirmation. But he didn't have the luxury of time to test them. He couldn't afford to be picky in a place like this.
He carefully plucked a handful of the berries and placed them in his pockets. There was no immediate danger in carrying them; he would test them.
A test for later. Controlled. Measured.
If he could isolate the effects using basic observation—changes in skin color, pulse, nausea—he might determine if they were consumable in small quantities.
For now, it was enough to know he had found something—anything—that could help sustain him.
He continued his journey through the forest, his senses tuned to the environment. Every rustle of leaves, every shift in the breeze was processed by his sharp mind. He needed more than just food; he needed medicinal herbs, plants that could help with the injuries still marring his body.
Luciel's medical expertise had always been one of his strongest assets. He had studied medicine deeply, mastering the intricacies of the human body, the healing properties of plants, and the subtle art of using nature's resources for survival.
His mind flickered through his knowledge of plants as he walked, searching for anything useful.
Further along the ridge of twisted terrain, something else caught his attention.
Leaves.
Wide. Dark green. Serrated edges with faint veins glowing soft silver.
A patch of low plants, growing close to the ground in a semi-circle.
He paused.
They looked… familiar.
Not precisely. Not like the textbooks. But enough.
Luciel stepped forward and crouched.
His gaze flicked between the patterns in the leaves, the structure of the stem, the way it bent slightly toward the moss-covered stones.
In his native world, there were herbs that did the same.
Pain-relievers. Anti-inflammatories.
Not the same species. But cousins, perhaps.
He didn't make assumptions
But he memorized the texture. The shape. The way they grew in clusters of five. He gathered a few of them to carry in his hands.
Something to test later.
That was how one survived as a medic in hostile environments.
No assumptions.
Only controlled results.
Luciel was twelve.
But he was also a genius.
In medicine.
In many things.
Even if this world mocked the rules he once studied, even if it twisted nature into something wrong—patterns still existed. They always did.
The sun had almost disappeared completely, leaving only the faintest traces of twilight.
The forest was growing darker, and he knew the risks of lingering too long in unfamiliar territory.
Luciel's gaze shifted to the alcove, his destination in sight. The stone structure appeared through the trees, a silent reminder of his solitude. His muscles ached with the effort of the journey, but he was almost there.
But as he drew closer to the alcove, something felt... off.
The air shifted subtly, and a faint sense of unease prickled at the back of his mind. His sharp instincts flared, but Luciel didn't immediately react. He continued forward, scanning the area carefully. There, at the edge of his vision—just outside the alcove—was a shadow.
A hulking form, dark and still, crouched just beyond the shelter of the alcove's entrance. The creature was unlike any he had seen before, its massive shape nearly blending into the darkness of the forest.
The creature stepped forward. One clawed foot sank into moss.
Its head turned. Snout flaring.
It was sniffing the air around it.
Luciel watched its eyes—deep-set, green and unfocused.
It hadn't seen him.
Not yet.
But it smelled something.
Maybe blood.
Maybe him.
The way it moved—or rather, the way it didn't move—was unsettling.
It was watching, waiting.
Luciel's eyes narrowed as he assessed the monster.
Its body was covered in thick, mottled fur that shifted like liquid shadows, making it difficult to gauge its true form. Its four limbs were long and muscular, the paws wide with sharp, retractable claws that dug into the earth beneath it.
But it wasn't the size or the claws that made Luciel's breath hitch—it was the creature's head.
The thing was not quite a beast, not quite a man.
Its face was a twisted amalgamation of both, the features elongated and skeletal.
Its eyes, wide and unblinking, were a glowing green, faintly luminescent in the fading light.
They locked onto Luciel with an unnatural intensity, as though the monster could see him through the layers of trees, through the shadows of the forest.
The creature's mouth was a jagged line of sharp, broken teeth, its lower jaw slightly protruding. It was the kind of face that inspired immediate fear, a combination of primal instinct and something deeper, something ancient. Its growls were low and rumbling, vibrating in the air, as though it was more than just a predator—it was a force of nature itself.
Luciel's pulse quickened, his mind racing through his options.
He had no doubt that this creature was a predator, but it was no ordinary beast. It was intelligent, its posture relaxed but alert, ready to spring into action at the slightest provocation.
The worst part was that it had already noticed him.
Luciel's body tensed as the creature's head jerked upward, its glowing green eyes narrowing, its nostrils flaring as it detected his presence. It wasn't a simple animal with a single-minded focus on prey—it was a hunter.
And now it had found him.
The air between them seemed to crackle with tension as the creature shifted, its muscles rippling beneath its fur.
A low growl emanated from its throat, deep and predatory, filling the space between them. Its claws flexed against the earth, and for a brief moment, Luciel thought he could hear the sound of its breathing—a slow, deliberate intake of air as it prepared to strike.
Luciel's heart beat steadily in his chest.
He didn't flinch,
Didn't move.
His mind was already calculating his next move—how he could evade, how he could survive. He wasn't ready for a fight, not in this unstable state.
His mana, though faster than before, was still too unreliable to risk direct confrontation.
And yet, the creature hadn't moved, its eyes still locked on him.
The next few seconds felt like hours.
Luciel stood, perfectly still, calm and calculating.
Then, with a guttural growl, the monster sprang.