For a single, frozen second, the world is silent.
There is only the crackle of the fire, the sight of the open cage door, and the look of sheer, dumbfounded disbelief on the face of the cannibal leader, Scab.
Then, that disbelief curdles into a mask of pure, murderous rage.
"You little rat," he snarls, and lunges.
He is surprisingly fast for a man his size. Alex's mind goes blank with panic. There is no time for a plan, no time for the System, no time for thought. There is only instinct.
---Move!
He throws himself sideways, scrambling out of the cage as Scab's meaty fist smashes into the iron bars where his head had just been. The cage rings like a gong. The other cannibals, jolted from their stupor, begin to rise, grabbing their weapons.
Alex is on his feet. He is free. And he is surrounded.
"Okay, okay, think!" he pants, his voice a panicked whisper. He dodges another wild swing from Scab, the man's knuckles grazing his cheek. The blow is glancing, but it still feels like being hit with a brick.
He needs an edge. An advantage. Anything.
He backpedals, putting the roaring campfire between himself and the enraged leader. The heat washes over his back.
The fire. The ground.
He risks a precious half-second and focuses his will.
'Analyze!', he calls out in his mind.
[Object: Campfire. Properties: Heat (Intense), Light (Bright), Smoke (Acrid).]
[Object: Loose Gravel. Properties: Granularity, Slipperiness (Moderate), Sharpness (Minimal).]
Slipperiness. Heat. An idea, desperate and suicidal, sparks in his mind.
"Get him!" Scab roars to his men, who are now fanning out to encircle Alex.
Without changing his expression, Alex stomps his foot hard on the loose gravel, kicking a cloud of dust and sharp pebbles directly at Scab's face.
"Get this, you fuckface!"
The big man bellows in pain and surprise, his hands flying to his eyes.
"Arghhh--!"
That is the opening.
'Extract 'Heat' from the fire! Now!'
[Attempting to Extract Concept: Heat...] Success!
The sensation is agonizing. It is not a thought; it is a feeling, a searing, white-hot brand on his mind. He can only hold it for a second.
He dives, not at Scab, but at the long, wicked-looking butcher's knife the leader had dropped. His fingers close around the grimy handle.
"I will killlllll youuuuuuuuu!!!"
Scab roars, wiping the grit from his eyes. He sees Alex, now armed.
However he doesn't hesitates, rather he lunges like a true cannibal would do.
'Integrate!'
Alex focuses the searing concept of Heat from his mind into the blade. For a fraction of a second, the dull, grimy knife glows with a malevolent, cherry-red heat.
He doesn't have time for a skilled thrust. He just shoves it forward, a panicked, desperate jab.
The superheated blade meets the soft flesh of Scab's gut.
The effect is sickening. A loud hiss, the smell of burnt meat and vaporized blood. Scab's roar of rage chokes, turning into a wet, gurgling scream of pure agony.
"Ugghhhhhharghhhhhhh---!!"
He looks down at the glowing knife buried in his stomach, then up at Alex, his eyes wide with a final, uncomprehending shock.
He collapses, pulling the knife from Alex's nerveless fingers.
Alex stares, his body trembling uncontrollably. The smell. The sound. He just killed a man. He's going to be sick.
'What have I done…? I just wanted a shelter…why this is happening??'
The world tilts, and the shock of the present slams into the incident 3 days before.
…the feeling of translocation, of being ripped apart. He had stumbled out into a world of red dust under a dying sun. He was weak, confused, his head still reeling from the system's data-dump.
He saw smoke in the distance. A campfire. Hope, stupid and naive, had surged through him. 'Hello!' he had called out, stumbling towards it. 'Can anyone help me?'
The faces that greeted him were not friendly. They were gaunt, their smiles predatory. Before he could even process the danger, a sharp, brutal pain exploded at the back of his head.
Then, nothing…
He is pulled back to the here and now by a collective, enraged shout.
"Heheh! This guy killed scab!"
"Yea, now onwards we can do whatever we want haha!!"
The other cannibals, seeing their leader fall, are no longer cautious. They surge forward, a wave of hate and hunger.
'I have to escape first!'
Now unarmed, Alex doesn't think. He turns and runs.
He sprints past the cage, past the jeering faces that now contort with rage, and out into the oppressive darkness of the wasteland.
Behind him, he hears shouts. Curses. And then, a new sound that chills him to the bone.
The baying of hounds. Mutated, by the sound of them. They are hunting him.
He runs blindly, his lungs burning, his feet slipping on the loose rock. Adrenaline is the only thing keeping him upright.
The wound on his head from his capture has reopened, a warm trickle of blood running down his neck.
He glances back. A series of bobbing torches cuts through the darkness, fanning out. They are organized. They are coming for him.
'Why the hell is this happening?'
In his panic, he doesn't see the loose rock.
Another unfortunate incident happens, his ankle twists with a sickening pop.
"Shit, shit, ueghhh!"
He groans in pain, white-hot and absolute, lances up his leg. He cries out, tumbling down a short, steep embankment of loose shale.
He lands in a heap at the bottom, his entire body a symphony of agony. He tries to push himself up, but his leg gives way, a useless, broken thing beneath him.
The howling is closer now. The torchlight crests the ridge above him.
He collapses into the red dust, his vision tunnelling, the baying of the hounds filling the world.
His first taste of freedom had lasted less than five minutes.