My face was planted in dirt. Not the "oops, I fell asleep at my desk again" kind of dirt. This was "I just got meteor-crashed into another dimension" dirt. My back ached like I'd just gone ten rounds with a jeepney driver arguing about fare, and my mouth tasted like burnt toast and regret. My last memory was of the company sleeping quarters—the sub-zero AC, the alarm I'd set to meet Mimi after her shift, and the sad little peace offering in a 7-11 bag: overpriced chocolates and a plastic rose that had probably been sitting there since Valentine's. Now they were either melted goo back in reality or scattered across this nightmare landscape.
Yawn. I rubbed my eyes. "What in the—?"
No office. No Karen breathing down my neck about attendance. Just me, a crater, and trees that looked like they'd lost a fight with a flamethrower. The air smelled like a campfire doused in vinegar—sharp, smoky, with an acidic bite.
I sat up, groaning. "Okay, Kiko. Either this is the most realistic dream ever, or that 'Game Master' wasn't messing around."
A low, mournful sound, distant but distinct, seemed to ripple through the very air, carrying on an unseen current of wind.
I pushed myself to my feet, dusting off the loose soil clinging to my clothes. I pretty much tripped my way out of the shallow crater, but my eyes, bless 'em, knew exactly where to go: straight for the horizon. My mind was blown. This place stretched endlessly towards the horizon, and its sheer size was overwhelming. The landscape was painted in vivid hues as golden sunlight filtered through enormous trees. And I could make out these amazing, elaborate buildings strewn throughout the far-off landscape, some partially buried, others nearly engulfed by the ground. And beyond those, more emerged, their surfaces covered in elaborate carvings, obviously made for giants, and they dominated the unthinkable landscape. Walls, not unlike the ones that formed the crater I'd landed in, stretched off into the distance, their surfaces etched with complex, elegant patterns that may contain a deeper lore embedded into them.
Then it hit me—the call. The floating prompts. My brilliant choice of "WTF is this?" difficulty.
A howl tore through the air—that same hyena-choking-on-laughter sound. From the trees, monkey-parrots echoed it: "Howl-cackle! Howl-cackle!"
I looked up at the grinning, mandrill-faced creatures. "Great," I muttered. "Manila Zoo didn't prepare me for this." Back home, the animals followed the rules - the big cats looked majestic, the primates were entertaining, and the reptiles mostly just lay around judging everyone. But here? This was like God's mad science experiment gone wrong. Impossible creatures with abilities that broke every biological rule? Hybrid monstrosities that shouldn't exist? Critters who apparently skipped biology class? Whoever designed this ecosystem was either drunk or really hated tourists.
My Heightened Awareness pinged as bushes rustled.
Direwolf Lizard - Apex predator - Acid spit (Warning: Do. Not. Touch.) - Speed: "Run. Now."
"Fantastic."
The realization hit me like a punch to the gut - this was the consequence of choosing that stupid "Heightened Awareness" prompt instead of something actually useful like "Hailed Pyromancer." I could've been roasting these lizard bastards to a crisp right now with blue flames, but no, I got stuck playing nature documentary narrator.
A rustle in the undergrowth, a frantic scurry of paws and hooves, and then a stream of small, fluffy rabboars and other nameless creatures burst from the bushes, their eyes wide with terror as they bolted away from the direction of the howl.
I patted myself down. Phone: 3%. Wallet: useless. Keys: maybe for picking locks? And—I pulled out a spoon. I held it up to the sky. "A spoon? Seriously?"
I scanned the ground desperately, kicking through the undergrowth until my foot hit something solid. A stick - not much, but better than nothing. As my fingers closed around it, a prompt appeared:
Wooden Stick - Durability: Low - Damage: Minimal (but better than a spoon)
The Direwolf Lizard charged.
I did the gamer thing to do: to confront the mighty beast. I did what all brave men do - hurled the stick at the creature with all its might. It flew gracefully through the air like a spinning boomerang, found its target—the snout—but regretfully dealt 0 damage. The Direwolf Lizard paused mid-charge, cocking its head in what I swear was a derisive look. That monstrous face seemed to say Really? That's your play? before it resumed its attack.
What followed was pure urban warfare - if the urban jungle was actually a jungle. I launched into motion, my call center muscles screaming in protest as I executed moves I'd only ever pulled off in Mirror's Edge.
I planted my hands on a fallen log and vaulted over, tucking my knees to clear it cleanly. The lizard took the direct route - smashing straight through the rotten wood in an explosion of splinters.
Ducking under a low-hanging branch, I grabbed a vine and swung across a small ravine, my feet barely finding purchase on the opposite bank. The lizard simply leapt the gap, claws digging furrows in the dirt as it landed.
My lungs burned like I'd inhaled battery acid as I ricocheted between trees, using roots as springboards and moss-covered rocks as stepping stones. I rolled under a tangle of ferns, scrambled up into a desperate sprint, and then performed an involuntary, flailing dance number as my foot caught squarely on a protruding root, nearly introducing my face to a tree trunk.
The lizard moved with terrifying precision, its claws tearing up chunks of earth with every bound. I could hear its ragged breathing gaining on me, smell the acrid stench of its corrosive saliva.
Skill Activated: Heightened Awareness - Escape chance: 58% - Terrain help: 0.7% - Stamina: "Did you even do cardio?"
"NOT HELPING!" I wheezed.
Just as I felt its hot breath on my neck, it let out a triumphant screech and pounced.