Aya walked aimlessly through the endless sea of trees, her bare feet crunching softly on the forest floor. She had one idea in mind, just keep going east until she either sees civilization or mount Fuji. Shafts of sunlight pierced the canopy in thin golden lines, painting patches of moss and dirt with warmth. It should have been beautiful. It should have felt alive. But it didn't.
Instead, the forest was too quiet.
Her omnidirectional eyes picked up everything: a beetle crawling across bark, the faint sway of a branch, the shifting shadows between leaves. Yet for all that, the forest seemed empty. No birds singing. No squirrel-like creatures darting across branches. The kind of silence that screamed warning.
Aya slowed her steps. "...This doesn't feel right."
Her stomach growled again, reminding her that she hadn't eaten since waking up in this fragile body. Her hunger added a sharp edge of irritation to her thoughts. I don't have time for this. I need food, shelter, civilization—anything.
Then she heard it.
A faint, guttural chuckle drifting between the trees. Harsh and wet, like someone gargling laughter in their throat. Then another. And another.
Aya froze.
Her eyes flicked to the left—movement. A shadow slipped behind a tree trunk, small and hunched. To her right—branches shifted, though no wind blew. Behind her—another low laugh.
The forest wasn't empty at all. Something was watching her.
"...Oh no."
Her chest tightened as the shapes emerged. Five of them.
The first stepped into view, and Aya's breath caught.
A goblin.
Shorter than her by a head, skin a sickly green mottled with patches of grime. Its yellow eyes gleamed like a predator's, crooked teeth bared in a cruel grin. It wore nothing but ragged cloth tied around its waist. A rusted dagger glinted in its clawed hand.
Behind it came another, clutching a crude bone club. To the left, one hefted a jagged short sword. Another slithered forward barehanded, its claws long and sharp. And perched halfway up a tree, the last crouched with a short bow drawn, arrow aimed at her chest.
Five goblins.
Aya's first thought was relief. Goblins. Classic beginner mobs. Weak, predictable. Basically free XP.
Then reality crashed in.
Her heart pounded. Her legs felt shaky. This wasn't her nigh invincible ant body she had grown used to. This was a frail human body—Tessa's body—weak, hungry, and unfamiliar. Even now, her muscles ached from just walking; she had barely walked two kilometers, and she was already wiped out. Even her former human body on earth could do better. And goblins… goblins weren't jokes in a real fantasy world. They were predators. Scavengers. Monsters that hunted in packs.
Can I even take them?
She clenched her fists. If I can't beat goblins, I'll never survive this world.
The goblins' laughter grew harsher, crueler. They began to circle her in a loose semi-ring.
Then the archer loosed an arrow.
Aya's eyes widened. She tilted her head to the side, the projectile whistling past her ear and thudding into a tree. Before she could recover, the dagger-wielder lunged, teeth bared.
Aya threw herself backward, her foot catching on a root. She nearly stumbled, but reflexes from years of traversing the forest sharpened her balance. She slid away, eyes flicking in every direction at once.
Too fast. Too close. Think!
The club-wielder roared and charged. Aya whipped her hand out, summoning the acid above her open palm. A sizzling hiss filled the air as glowing liquid formed and splattered across the goblin's club.
The creature yelped as smoke rose from the bone weapon, melting under the acid. It dropped the weapon with a howl, clutching its sizzling hands.
Aya's lips curved in a grim smile. Acid manipulation still works. Good.
But there was no time to celebrate. The clawed goblin rushed from her right, slashing with unnatural speed. Aya ducked low, rolled forward, and came up behind it. She swiped her hand again, flinging droplets of acid that hissed and burned across its back. The stench of charred flesh filled the air. The goblin screamed.
"Two down—"
Pain shot across her shoulder. Aya staggered. The archer had nocked another arrow and grazed her. Warm blood trickled down her arm.
Her teeth clenched. Dammit. I forgot I can't tank hits like I used to.
The dagger-wielder came again, stabbing wildly. Aya sidestepped once, twice, but the goblin was relentless. It slashed her thigh, not deep, but enough to sting. Aya hissed and kicked hard, sending it stumbling back.
Her breathing grew heavy. She wasn't used to this body's limits. Stamina drained fast. Every move cost more than it should have.
The clawed goblin lunged again, ignoring the acid burns on its back. Its claws swiped dangerously close to her face. Aya twisted, barely avoiding the strike, then spat a concentrated jet of acid directly into its open mouth.
The goblin shrieked, choking as smoke poured from its throat. It collapsed, thrashing violently until it went still.
Aya panted, sweat dripping down her brow. Three left. Come on, Aya. Don't fold now.
The club-wielder, now unarmed and furious, charged with fists raised. Aya spread her hands and unleashed another splash of acid directly onto the ground between them. The goblin's feet hit the sizzling puddle, and it howled, stumbling forward. Aya didn't hesitate—she drove her knee into its jaw with all the force she could muster. The crack echoed. The goblin toppled backward, unconscious or dead.
Two left.
The dagger-wielder and the archer.
Aya whirled, omnidirectional eyes catching the subtle pull of the archer's bowstring. She dove sideways just as another arrow flew past, missing her heart by inches.
She flung acid upward in a wild arc. It splattered across the tree branch. The archer shrieked as the wood cracked and gave way, dropping it to the ground.
The dagger-wielder charged while Aya was not paying attention to it. It slashed again and again, feral and fast. Aya dodged twice, but the third strike scraped across her ribs. She hissed, stumbling back.
Her hands shook. Her breath came ragged. I'm slowing down…
The dagger flashed again. This time, Aya didn't dodge. She stepped in.
Her hand shot forward, grabbing the goblin's wrist. Acid poured from her palm, sizzling across its arm. The goblin screamed and dropped the dagger.
Aya didn't let go. She grabbed its head with her other hand and forced another spray of acid directly into its face. The goblin convulsed, then went limp.
One left.
The archer scrambled on the ground, clutching its bow, trying to crawl away. Its yellow eyes were wide with terror.
Aya approached slowly, chest heaving, acid still dripping from her fingertips. Her whole body ached. She felt faint and hungry. But the fight wasn't over until it was.
The goblin drew an arrow with trembling hands, raising the bow in desperation.
Aya moved first.
She hurled her acid in a single concentrated blast. It struck the bow, melting through string and wood alike. The goblin shrieked, dropping the useless weapon. Aya lunged, her knee striking its chest, pinning it to the ground.
She raised her hand, acid bubbling at her fingertips.
The goblin froze, staring up at her with wide, pitiful eyes. Its chest rose and fell in frantic gasps.
Aya hesitated. For a heartbeat, she felt the full weight of her human senses—her pounding heart, her trembling muscles, the stench of burned flesh, the sound of goblin whimpers. As an ant, she would have devoured without thought. As a human, the disgust was overwhelming.
But hesitation was weakness.
With a grimace, Aya pressed her hand down. Acid burned through its throat, silencing it forever.
Silence fell again.
Aya staggered back, dropping to her knees. Sweat plastered her hair to her forehead. Her chest rose and fell like a bellows.
Five goblins. Dead.
She looked at her shaking hands. "I… did it."
Her lips curled into a weak smile. Then her stomach growled again, sharp and angry. She glanced at the bodies, bile rising in her throat.
Once, she would have feasted. Now, the very thought made her gag. She turned away, forcing herself to stand on trembling legs.
No. Not this. Not anymore. If I want to live… I need civilization.
Aya staggered deeper into the forest, leaving the corpses behind, determination hardening in her chest.
For the first time, she had fought as Aya the human, not Aya the ant. And though she was weaker, frailer, and more breakable, she was alive.
And she would get stronger.
Aya's feet were numb.
The ground blurred beneath her as she trudged forward, step after step, as if her body were no longer hers to command but simply a husk being carried by sheer stubbornness. Every breath was shallow. Every movement came with that dull, thudding ache in her bones that had grown sharper since the fight in the woods. The goblins had left her body battered; their crude blades had carved fresh lines into flesh that was already weakened by blood loss.
It had been two days since then. Two days without real food. Two days without sleep.
Only stubborn survival kept her body moving.
She leaned against a tree, catching her breath. Her lips were cracked, throat burning, stomach gnawing on itself. Even her Healing Factor was struggling — the frail vessel of Tessa's body simply couldn't keep up with constant strain. The cuts had closed, yes, but her blood was gone, her muscles depleted.
She staggered forward again, forcing her legs to move. Just… one more step. One more.
Through the trees, she finally saw it — a fence, low and wooden, circling a patch of farmland. Smoke curled lazily from distant rooftops. Voices carried faintly on the wind.
Civilization.
Aya blinked, unsure if it was hallucination or reality, but the sight filled her with a surge of determination. She stumbled faster, branches snapping underfoot, until the dirt road widened and the village revealed itself in full.
It was modest — a scattering of stone-and-wood houses, farmland plots stretching outward, a central well where women gathered with buckets. Chickens darted across the road. A dog barked as it spotted her.
Aya's knees buckled at the entrance. She staggered, gripping the gatepost. Villagers turned, staring at the blood-streaked girl who had appeared from the forest like a ghost. Someone shouted — words she didn't register.
Her body gave out.
The last thing she saw before darkness claimed her was the blurry outline of a woman rushing toward her, voice breaking into a cry.
When Aya next opened her eyes, she was warm.
A ceiling of smooth-hewn wood stretched above her. The air was scented faintly with herbs and clean straw. She lay beneath a quilt, her wounds freshly bandaged, her body tucked into a bed far softer than stone.
At her bedside sat a woman.
She was middle-aged, with lines at the corners of her eyes, her hair tied back in a messy bun. Her shoulders shook as she wept quietly, clutching Aya's hand as though it were the only thing tethering her to the world.
"Tessa… oh, gods, Tessa…" the woman whispered. Her tears splashed against Aya's knuckles.
Aya froze.
That name.
…No way.
The woman lifted her head then, eyes red and swollen. The moment Aya's gaze met hers, her face crumpled with relief. She surged forward, wrapping her arms around Aya in a fierce, trembling embrace.
"You're alive. You're alive, thank the heavens—you're alive!"
Aya stiffened in shock, her ribs aching under the woman's desperate grip. She opened her mouth to protest, to tell her she wasn't Tessa, but the words caught in her throat.
The warmth of the woman's embrace. The raw desperation in her voice.
This wasn't a stranger.
This was Tessa's mother.
Aya's hands trembled as the truth settled heavy in her chest. She had walked, half-dead, all the way to Tessa's home. The body she now inhabited had dragged her here on instinct, maybe muscle memory.
And now she was staring into the tear-streaked face of a mother who thought her daughter had come back from the dead.
Aya's throat tightened. Words wouldn't come.
The woman pulled back just enough to cup Aya's face in her hands, her touch trembling. "Don't scare me like that ever again, Tessa. You nearly killed me when I saw you collapse at the gates. What happened to you out there? Where did you go?"
Aya opened her mouth, but no sound emerged. She wanted to scream I'm not your daughter! but the look in the woman's eyes made her falter.
How could she say it? How could she shatter this fragile miracle?
The woman sobbed again, pressing her forehead to Aya's. "It doesn't matter. You're home now. You're safe."
Aya's chest ached. For the first time since she had woken in Tessa's body, she felt the crushing weight of what this meant. She wasn't just inhabiting some random vessel. She had stolen a place in someone's life. A daughter's place.
Tessa's place.
And Tessa's family had no idea.
Aya swallowed hard, her vision blurring with tears she hadn't realized were forming. The warmth of the embrace, the smell of home cooking drifting faintly from another room, the simple rhythm of a mother's heartbeat against her cheek…
For just a moment, Aya let herself sink into it.
For just a moment, she allowed herself to be held.
Because even if it was a lie, even if this wasn't really her home, Aya realized just how much she had missed this kind of warmth.
The kind she hadn't felt since her old world.
Since her real mother.
Her hands slowly curled into the woman's back, clutching weakly as silent tears rolled down her cheeks.
"…I'm home," Aya whispered, her voice breaking.
And for now, she let the illusion be real.
The door creaked open. A man stepped inside, broad-shouldered with dirt-stained clothes, the scent of earth clinging to him. He froze when he saw Aya awake, his weathered face going pale.
"Tessa?" His voice cracked.
The woman nodded through her tears, clutching Aya tighter. "She's awake. She's really awake."
The man's hands trembled. He approached slowly, as if afraid she might vanish if he moved too fast. Then, with a shuddering breath, he sat at her bedside and pulled both Aya and the woman into his arms.
Aya's body was trapped between them, warmth pressing from both sides, their tears wetting her hair.
She couldn't breathe.
Not from pain, but from the crushing realization:
She wasn't Aya here.
She was Tessa.
And Tessa's family would never know the truth.