With no new prompts flashing in his system, Ethan fell back on the only tool left to guide him—the treasure-hunting radar in his mind.
What he saw there almost made him choke.
The distribution of signals wasn't just different from the modern world—it was overflowing. Points of light flickered everywhere, tens of thousands of them, scattered like constellations across his inner vision.
"So many treasures? Here?!" he muttered in disbelief.
The mission required him to find only four treasures within ten days. On paper, that didn't sound hard. But with forests like this, no roads, and danger at every turn, he knew every step could take twice as long. Time suddenly felt like a scarce resource.
He focused on the pulsing of the signals, zeroed in on the closest, and pushed forward.
The forest floor was a nightmare. Roots, gullies, and deep silt made every step a stumble. His flashlight beam cut only a short distance through the dark, leaving walls of black beyond. Within minutes, his shirt clung to him, soaked with sweat. The stench of swampy mud on his tunic was suffocating.
Cursing under his breath, Ethan stripped off the filthy costume robe and shoved it, along with his helmet, into storage. He couldn't throw them away—he'd rented half the wardrobe—but he sure didn't want to wear them.
He sighed heavily. Of all the scenarios I imagined—meeting knights, crossing paths with an ancient queen, stumbling onto a castle—this was not it. His folding bike was useless in the muck. His heavy backpack felt like a personal anchor to hell. And the plants towering around him were completely alien: thick vines wrapping trunks as wide as houses, branches so high they vanished into black sky.
"Where the hell am I?" he whispered. Please tell me I didn't end up in some other continent… or worse.
Half-joking to himself, he added: "If Count Dracula strolls out of these woods, I'm logging out of this simulation right now."
Still, the radar signal grew stronger. After hours of slogging through the muck, dawn lightened the horizon. The treasure glow in his mind was bigger and brighter than usual—a level 2 find at least. And curiously, the area of the signal was wider than normal, suggesting multiple treasures clumped together.
"Yes!" Ethan grinned despite himself. "Hit the jackpot early." If he could knock out multiple finds at once, his mission could be done in half the time.
But the closer he got, the more his stomach tightened. Instinct screamed at him that something was off.
When he finally pushed through the last tangle of bushes, his jaw dropped.
Lying in a damp grassy pit were two black-and-white tiger cubs, curled up and purring softly in their sleep.
The radar chimed: zi..zi..zi..
"Are you kidding me?" Ethan whispered. "The treasures are… baby tigers?!"
For a few stunned moments, he stood there frozen. They looked almost harmless, squirming gently, paws twitching as though they dreamed. But Ethan had seen enough movies to know how this story went.
Where there were cubs…
His pulse spiked. That means a mama tiger is somewhere nearby.
Every instinct told him to back away quietly. But the glowing signal tugged at him. Treasure was treasure. He bit his lip, then made a snap decision, lunging forward and scooping up the cubs—one under each arm.
The system voice chimed immediately:"Congratulations. You have obtained two Level 2 treasures—"
A roar split the air.
Ethan's blood ran cold.
The sound rolled through the forest like thunder. He didn't need to turn to know what made it. Heart hammering, he dropped the cubs like they were red-hot iron and bolted.
The system's calm voice droned on:"Species detected: Tubira black-spotted tiger, extinct Central Asian subspecies, once native to western Turkey, extinction dated 9652 B.C.—"
"What? B.C.?" Ethan gasped, stumbling as the words sank in. No, no, no, don't tell me I'm not just in the past… I'm in prehistory?
Another roar, closer this time. Branches cracked behind him.
Ethan sprinted wildly, lungs burning. His mind spun with panic and sarcasm in equal measure. Fantastic. My very first mission and I get chased by a tank-sized saber-tooth reject.
And then he saw it.
A massive shape burst through the undergrowth, landing with the grace of a predator. Black-and-white stripes, a body easily the size of a small car, fangs glinting, eyes locked forward. It was the biggest tiger Ethan had ever seen—or ever wanted to see.
"Holy hell…" His voice cracked. That thing could eat me and still be hungry.
The beast thundered forward, closing the distance in seconds. Ethan braced for claws across his back. But to his shock, the tiger didn't strike. Instead, it surged up alongside him, running parallel.
Confused, Ethan risked a glance.
The tiger wasn't looking at him. Its eyes burned forward, focused on something else. And clamped gently in its jaws were the two cubs, carried like precious cargo.
Ethan blinked. Wait. It's not chasing me. It's… fleeing?
Before he could process the thought, the sound of horns cut through the forest. Low, guttural, rising and falling like a war call.
The tiger flinched visibly, muscles rippling with tension. It let out a guttural snarl, then bolted faster, leaving Ethan behind.
Ethan slowed, confused and unsettled. Then his jaw dropped again.
Ten meters ahead, the massive cat suddenly shot upward into the air, yanked by a hidden net of vines. The trap snapped tight, hoisting the enormous predator off its feet. The tiger roared furiously, thrashing, but the woven ropes held firm.
Ethan stood rooted in place. A trap? Who the hell could build something strong enough to catch that monster?
A faint whistle split the air. Ethan barely turned before something slammed into his chest like a freight train.
He hit the ground hard, rolled twice, and skidded to a stop, coughing violently. Pain exploded across his ribs, and when he looked down, he saw the weapon. A spear—thick, long, razor-sharp—jutted from his chest armor.
If not for the light plating under his tunic, he'd have been skewered clean through.
More whistles.
Spears slammed into the ground where he'd been lying seconds earlier. Dirt sprayed, leaves shredded. Heart pounding, Ethan rolled desperately into the bushes, ignoring the stabbing pain in his side.
From the trees came guttural cries—deep, rhythmic shouts, like commands in a language he didn't understand. The pounding of bare feet followed, dozens of them.
Ethan pressed himself flat in the brush, chest heaving, sweat stinging his eyes.
"Oh god," he whispered. "They're not soldiers. They're… primitives."
The realization sank like ice water. He wasn't just in another century. He was in a time when humans hunted with spears and trapped giant tigers.
And now, they were hunting him.
(End of Chapter 13)