"The sky stretches vast and unbroken, an ocean of deep blue so rich it feels like I could reach out and take a sip. It’s not like Earth’s sky—no, this one is darker, heavier, like it has something to prove. Below, the forest sits in eerie stillness, like it knows something I don’t. The leaves, pale green and waxy, shimmer faintly under the zy sun, shifting colors as the breeze slinks through the canopy like it’s up to no good. The warmth is the kind that whispers, Just lie down for a minute, you deserve it. Which, honestly, sounds tempting.

  But warmth doesn’t mean safety.

  The trees here are absurdly thick for their height—ten, maybe fifteen meters tall, yet as wide as a tree that’s seen some things. Back on Earth, trees like these would have spent centuries reaching for the sky. Here? They stopped growing halfway up, looked around, and said, Yeah, this is fine. And then there are the others. The wild ones.

  They don’t grow straight like trees with a sense of decorum. No, these trunks twist and coil around each other like they lost a bet, forming an absolute nightmare of a maze. Running through them at full speed? Not happening. There’s always a branch in the way, a root waiting to take me down, or a sudden dead end where the trees have collectively decided to gatekeep some forbidden fruit. It’s like the entire forest is conspiring against cardio.

  Which made my chase with that mutt even worse. Sprinting was off the table—I had to twist, duck, and fil my way through the gaps, never knowing if the next turn would lead to freedom or yet another tree giving me the wooden equivalent of a smug grin."

  Xavier had been in this pce for two months now. To keep himself sane, he made a habit of talking to himself, recalling random memories and observations as if clinging to the st threads of normalcy.

  The routine had become second nature—until it was interrupted by the wails of a dying animal.

  A small, satisfied smile tugged at his lips. Another one. His pitfall trap had cimed yet another victim—one of many he'd set around the giant tree he now considered his nest.

  He approached the pit, scanning the impaled body of a predator. It resembled a tiger, but smaller, faster—just as powerful, just as ferocious. But the wooden spears had proven deadlier.

  Cowards. He studied the beast with detached curiosity. Despite their strength and speed, these creatures rarely risked a fair hunt. They scavenged, preying on the weak, avoiding true threats whenever possible.

  Using the rope and pulley system he'd fashioned from vine and wood, he hoisted the 150-kilogram carcass out of the pit with ease. A tool like this made all the difference in the wilderness.

  Once free, he let the fresh kill hang in pin sight. Even in death, the scent of a predator kept other beasts at bay.

  "How convenient."

  He retrieved the bait that had lured the animal, then took out his sharpened crystal-like stones—collected from the riverbank—and set to work. With careful precision, he separated flesh from sinew, tossing the meat into a wooden box already half-filled with rotting remains.

  As the strangely sweet scent of decay reached his nose, memories of his first days in this world flooded back. The hunger. The mistakes.

  Two Months Ago

  Xavier stumbled through the hostile wilderness, his body screaming for relief. His throat was raw, his skin tight and cracked from dehydration. Every step was an ordeal, his legs stiff as wood, his arms numb and useless.

  He was going to die here. Obscure. Unknown. Insignificant.

  In a matter of hours, he had been ripped from everything he knew and thrown into a world that followed different rules, where evolution had twisted life into something both familiar and alien. But none of that mattered now. Theories wouldn't keep him alive. Survival was an afterthought when his body had already given up.

  His lifeless gaze settled on a rge stone a dozen steps ahead.

  "I’ll walk to that spot, and then it’s over."

  He had no grand ambitions left. No desperate pns for escape. Just a simple, logical choice—stop suffering. There was no going back, no reason to endure this meaningless torment.

  Death was no longer feared; it was a mercy, a sweet release from unending agony.

  Yet, as he drew near that cold, indifferent stone, an unbidden thought shattered the quiet desotion:

  "What if I take ten more steps?"

  A sick chill crawled down his cold spine, sending shivers down his numb body. His fingers twitched, his pulse hammered weakly against his skull. Even as his vision blurred, his instincts rebelled against the very idea. His body had already surrendered—why was his mind betraying him now?

  Yet he moved.

  Each step was a new kind of agony. His bones felt as if they would snap under his weight. Pale, almost translucent, his flesh clung too tightly to bone, his body consuming itself. Every breath was a hollow wheeze. The moment he chose to move, the weight of death crushed him harder. To resist death having once accepted it was worse than dying itself.

  On the 10th step, death almost sounded synonymous to salvation.

  "Just... five more."

  It wasn’t about hope. It wasn’t about survival. It was just a final, mindless act of defiance. He had nothing left—so he would at least choose when he fell.

  Then, something hit him. A scent.

  Rotten, sweet, overwhelming.

  His sluggish mind struggled to process it before his eyes locked onto something on the ground. A rge fruit. Split open, its juices pooling in the dirt.

  It was only five meters away.

  Five meters felt like a world apart. His body refused. His limbs failed. The only thing still functioning was the raw, desperate instinct screaming at him—reach it.

  He fell. Crawled. Dragged himself forward inch by inch.

  And when his teeth finally sank into its soft, fermented flesh, he didn't care that it was overripe, that the texture was mushy and disgusting. The juices flooded his mouth, burning his parched throat like fire and honey all at once. His entire body convulsed, a shock to a system that had been ready to shut down.

  And then—darkness.

  Xavier's body sunk into the earth like it belonged there. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, his suffering faded into silence.

  It started with a gasp—wet, ragged, and coarse. His lungs, stiff from neglect, convulsed against the sudden flood of air, burning like torn leather stretched too far. His chest locked, ribs straining, refusing to expand. For a moment, it felt like drowning, like suffocating on the very thing meant to save him.

  Then, his heart stuttered.

  A slow, weak contraction. Then another. Each beat forced ice-cold blood through veins that had nearly forgotten movement. His limbs twitched, not from control but from the raw electricity of life smming back into dead muscles. Numb fingers curled against the dirt, tingling like they’d been dipped in fire. His skin prickled as sensation returned in agonizing waves—frostbitten and burning all at once.

  Pain meant he was alive.

  His stomach twisted, a sickening hunger gnawing through his gut like a trapped animal. His vision swam, bck spots blooming and receding. His own body was a stranger—weak, broken, unwilling to listen. But the message was clear.

  Not dead. Not yet.

  Though his mind remained lost in the void for hours, his body had already cimed victory over the ordeal, dragging itself back from the edge of death.

  As Xavier's eyes fluttered open, pain surged through his body, sharpening as his senses returned. Yet, beneath the torment, he knew—instinctively, undeniably—that he would live. The hostile world had granted him strength, however little, and the first thing he did with it was simple.

  He cried.

  Tears spilled down his cheeks, a release long denied by his weakened body. Had he possessed the strength earlier, he would have wept long before now. He was alive. He would endure. He could still go back....

  Present time

  Xavier had learned in the past two months that his body is strangely resistant to infections and diseases here, with how his first few days were spent here this turned out to be one single kindness the world had shown him.

  But at the same time, as if intending to reduce him to a mere parasite, he could only eat fruits and meat that had been decomposed and broken down by bacteria and yeast, somewhere in the breakdown process the composition of the edibles here become familiar enough to be eaten.

  "Fantastic." Xavier spoke with sarcasm in his voice. "My immune system is a fortress, but only if I eat food that's already lost the battle."

  Xavier shook his head, trying to put his mind to more important matters.

  His preparations were at st complete, he was going to leave his temporary home of two months and go upstream of the river.

  A week ago, a small cloth had made way to him through the waters, a sign of intelligent life, real people!... or rather, aliens.

  If there is any chance to go back, it was certainly not here, he had to move forward in some way. Xavier had grown to hate simply existing at the whims of the treacherous world.

  Still anxious and unsure of his decision, Xavier picks up the box of rotten meat, a few vine ropes, his small bag of knives and a bindle of clothes made out of animal skin.

  "Thank you, tree. You kept me dry, kept me hidden. It was a good time, but all things come to an end, don't they? I gotta go and see what else wants me dead."

  He left his first friend behind—a tree. Fitting. He felt his resolve to move on grow firmer.

  Xavier moved on into the woods, hoping to find a clue to home.

  "What could go wrong?" He thought. "The animals find me unpleasant as soon as they taste my blood, the strange beast from the first day has been avoiding me like the pgue too."

  A crooked resentful expression appeared on Xavier's face.

  "You thought that was the end of it? No, mutt. I owe you a proper goodbye."

  He shook his head, trying to avoid getting any dark thought at the beginning of his journey.

  'That wretched beast will have to wait a little longer.'

  Xavier muttered to ghosts like an old habit—if nothing else, it reassured him that he was still human.

  "The worst case scenario would be that I end up being a lifelong adventurer in an alien world. Granted I live long enough to call it a 'life', of course!"

  Xavier took his first step away from his shelter, away from the safety of familiarity.

  Somewhere deep in the forest, something took its first step too.

  Tilted_pen