I ventured out again today. Food supplies were running low, and the usual trails had yielded less than expected. My routine had become almost mechanical—wake up, check the cave, sharpen my weapons, check the old man's condition, and then head out.
This time, I took a detour.
I wasn't just hunting. I was scouting—watching for changes, new threats, signs of movement I hadn't noticed before. With the increasing quiet in the forest, I couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong.
As always, I brought everything with me: the DIY spear with its sharpened, coated tip, the heavy baseball bat slung across my back, the handmade crossbow strapped to my side, and the gun tucked into a hidden pouch on my belt. One bullet left. I treated it like gold.
While walking near a moss-covered slope, I spotted something that made me freeze mid-step.
Blood.
A small trail of dark, dried droplets streaked near the base of a twisted tree.
I crouched down and examined it carefully. The droplets weren't fresh—maybe a day or two old—but not fully dried either. They led deeper into the woods, into an area I hadn't fully mapped yet. I felt the weight of the crossbow on my hip, the cold steel of the gun through the fabric, and decided not to follow the trail.
Not today.
Day 103
I can speak now.
Barely. But I can.
Simple, halting sentences. Broken grammar. But it's enough.
Today, I finally asked the old man about the crimson-red crystal. The one he dropped that night when he stumbled into my life, chased and bleeding.
We had an unspoken agreement between us. A boundary.
First: I never asked why he was being hunted that night.
Second: I told him, slowly, with fumbling words and crude hand gestures, that I would return the crystal if he helped me learn. If he taught me his language.
He stared at me for a long time, silent, thoughtful.
Then he smiled—and told me to eat it.
I blinked. "Eat? Crystal?"
He nodded and mimed chewing exaggeratedly.
Was he serious?
I looked at him like he was a fool. Who eats a rock? I'd choke to death. It was solid, crystalline, dense. It didn't even look like food.
He gestured again, more clearly this time: smashing it, powdering it, mixing it with something. I sighed and slipped it back into my pocket.
I remembered the novels I used to read—protagonists finding magical crystals, devouring them, gaining powers overnight, then blacking out for three days straight. Sure, they survived. But they were monsters. I wasn't.
And let's be honest—I hadn't exactly treated the old man well. I gave him less food than I ate, took all his possessions, and never let him out of sight. He was frail. A survivor, yes—but not strong. If I ate this crystal and it turned out to be poison, what then?
Still… I didn't throw it away.
Just in case.
Day 105
The forest is changing.
Animals have started disappearing. Their tracks have faded. Their calls have gone silent.
The air feels heavier.
I spotted no game during my usual patrol—no squirrels, no birds, not even the pesky beetle-things that nest under the rotten logs. Something is driving them away.
A predator. Bigger than me. Maybe smarter.
I've got the Lumen Core. I can transform. But I've learned enough not to rely on it recklessly. One mistake, one misstep, and I could be left vulnerable. Even a bear-form won't help much if I'm caught off guard.
Better to avoid unnecessary fights.
Day 107
It rained all day.
The kind of rain that soaks you in seconds, that makes even the trees shiver. I didn't leave the cave. The old man and I stayed inside, silent, listening to the water drum against the stone.
Day 108
I've made it part of my routine now—talking with him.
Every day, I try. Even if it's just a few words, a phrase, or repeating something he said the day before. He doesn't correct me, but I can see the slight curve of his mouth when I get something right. Sometimes, he teaches me new words. Points to things. Waits for me to repeat.
Progress.
Real progress.
Day 115
I noticed claw marks on a tree near the northern trail.
Deep ones. Too deep to be from a wolf or boar. These weren't random scratches. They were territorial. A warning.
I changed direction immediately.
But then I heard it.
A low growl.
A twig snapped behind me.
Instinct took over. I reached for my gun, turned, and fired.
The shot missed.
The creature lunged from the underbrush—orange and black stripes blurring through the rain-drenched foliage. Massive shoulders. Muscular limbs. Eyes like molten gold.
A tiger.
I fired again—this time hitting its side. Blood sprayed, but it didn't stop.
It roared and stumbled, then slowly began to recover, eyes locked onto me with pure hatred.
No time to think.
I shoved the Lumen Core into my mouth.
Its familiar warmth burst through me. My bones twisted, muscle fiber thickened, fur surged across my skin. No pain this time. The Core released its numbing agent, easing the shift.
I didn't bring the crossbow today—stupid mistake. I had one bullet left. A baseball bat. A spear. That was it.
The odds were bad.
I couldn't fight it head-on. No armor. No training. I'd be torn apart in seconds.
I needed to outlast it. Outmaneuver it.
But I was in its territory.
And I was bleeding too.
The tiger charged.
I rolled to the side and thrust the spear, grazing its shoulder. It roared again, spun, and swiped. The air itself felt like it cracked from the force.
It caught my leg.
Pain exploded down my side. My bear-form absorbed the worst of it, but I still went tumbling through the mud. I gasped and scrambled backward, gripping the bat.
The tiger circled. Its wound was slowing it, but not enough.
This wasn't a mindless beast. It was testing me.
I didn't run.
Running would make me prey.
Instead, I stood my ground, spear leveled, trying to breathe through the adrenaline.
I remembered something.
Something the old man said days ago in broken phrases.
"Eat to change. Become. Escape death."
I glanced at my pocket. The crystal.
Still there.
Still warm.
The tiger lunged again, and I moved—not fast enough. It clipped my shoulder, sending me spinning into a fallen log.
I coughed blood.
I couldn't win this.
Not like this.
I reached into my pocket.
Pulled out the crimson-red crystal.
Looked at it one last time.
And crushed it in my hand.
The shards burned against my palm. Smoke rose. I didn't think—I just threw it into my mouth, half-chewed, half-swallowed. The taste was sharp, metallic, almost electrical.
My body seized.
The world blurred.
Something inside me cracked open like a dam bursting.
Then the world went black.