The rain on this planet didn't wash things clean; it burned.
Heavy, acidic drops hammered against the rusted corrugated metal sheet above, creating a deafening rhythm that masked the sound of approaching death. The air smelled of wet iron, rotting vegetation, and something sickly sweet—the scent of fresh blood mixed with ozone.
Aryan pressed his back against a moss-covered boulder, his chest heaving silently.
He wasn't shaking. He was too exhausted to shake.
His gray porter shirt, torn and soaked, clung to his ribs. Mud covered every inch of his skin, acting as a crude camouflage against the gloom of the Planet-404 forest.
'Three minutes...' Aryan counted in his head, his eyes fixed on the dense ferns ahead. 'The target stopped moving three minutes ago. It hasn't left. It's waiting.'
A low growl vibrated through the wet ground, shaking the puddle near his boots.
From the dense thicket of bioluminescent plants, two glowing yellow eyes emerged.
It wasn't just a wolf. It was a Steel-Bristled Wolf.
A Level 3 Beast.
Its spine was lined not with fur, but with jagged metallic spikes that glimmered faintly in the dark. Saliva dripped from its jaws, hissing as it touched the acidic mud. It was limping—a deep gash on its hind leg oozed black blood—but that only made it more dangerous.
A wounded beast doesn't hunt for food. It hunts to eliminate threats.
And Aryan?
He was just a Porter. An F-Rank "Awakened" with zero combat skills, zero armor, and a weapon he had looted from a corpse five minutes ago—a rusted, chipped machete.
Aryan tightened his grip on the handle until his knuckles turned white.
'It can't see me clearly. The wind is in my favor,' he analyzed, forcing his heartbeat to slow down. It was a trick he had learned in the Slums back on Earth: When you are weak, become a stone. Become nothing.
The wolf took a step. The sound of its paw squishing into the mud broke the silence.
Its ears twitched. It snapped its head toward the boulder.
It knew.
'Now!'
Aryan didn't jump out heroically. That would be suicide.
Instead, he slid sideways into the mud, grabbing a handful of wet silt and gravel. As the wolf lunged, jaws snapping at where his throat had been a second ago, Aryan threw the debris straight into its eyes.
It was dirty. It was cheap. It was desperate.
The wolf yelped, blindingly shaking its head. Its vision blurred for a split second.
That second was all Aryan had.
He lunged. Not for the throat—the hide was too thick. He aimed for the injury.
"Haaah!"
The rusted machete sank into the open wound on the wolf's hind leg.
The beast roared, thrashing its body violently. Aryan was flung away like a ragdoll, slamming into a tree trunk five feet away.
"Gah!" Air left his lungs instantly. The taste of copper filled his mouth.
[ WARNING: HEALTH CRITICAL ]
Pain exploded in his ribs, but Aryan didn't stop. He knew the rules of the wild. If he stayed down, he was meat.
The wolf, now dragging its leg, turned around. Its eyes were pure madness. It opened its jaws, ready to crush Aryan's skull.
But in that moment of near-death, Aryan's eyes went cold. The fear evaporated, replaced by a terrifying calm.
'Simple physics,' his mind raced. 'Mass times acceleration. I can't stop it. I have to redirect it.'
As the 150kg beast leaped, Aryan dropped to his back, pulling his knees to his chest. At the exact moment of impact, he didn't block—he kicked upward, using the wolf's own momentum to launch it over him.
The beast flew over his body and crashed skull-first into the thick tree trunk behind him.
The sound of a spine snapping echoed through the clearing.
Aryan didn't wait to celebrate. He scrambled up, climbed onto the twitching beast, and raised the rock he had grabbed after losing his machete during the fall.
One hit.
Two hits.
Three hits.
He didn't stop until the creature's head was a shapeless mash.
Heavy silence returned to the forest, broken only by his ragged breathing.
A pale blue translucent window flickered into existence before his eyes.
[ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ]
[ Target Eliminated: Steel-Bristled Wolf
(Level 3) ]
[ Contribution: 100% (Solo Kill) ]
[ Experience: +50 ]
[ Loot: Beast Core (Detected) ]
Aryan stared at the screen, wiping blood from his eyes.
"Still no level up..." he rasped, his voice sounding like sandpaper. "I killed a Level 3 with a rock... and still nothing."
He knelt, carving into the beast's chest with a sharp stone to extract the Beast Core. A small, marble-sized orb glowing with faint white light. Worth maybe 500 Credits.
Just enough to buy medicine for his sister for two days.
As he pocketed the core, a voice echoed. Not from the forest. Not from the System.
It came from the darkest corner of his own mind.
'Sloppy.'
The voice was deep, velvety, and dripped with arrogance.
'You hesitated, boy. Efficiency is the privilege of the strong. You are... sadly lacking.'
Aryan looked around, gripping the rock tighter. "Who's there?"
Only the rain answered.
He shook his head. 'Blood loss. I'm hallucinating.'
He tried to stand, but footsteps approached. Not a beast. Humans.
Three figures emerged from the tree line, holding Mana Torches that cut through the darkness.
It was his "Party." The same team that had hired him to carry their bags and then left him as bait when the wolves attacked.
Vikram (D-Rank Tanker) led the way, his heavy alloy armor gleaming. Behind him were Riya (Healer) and Samir (Scout).
Vikram stopped, blinking in genuine surprise.
"Well, look at that," Vikram smirked, not with relief, but with amusement. "The trash is still breathing. I thought the Razor Hawks would have picked your bones clean by now."
Samir shined his light on the dead wolf. His eyes widened. "Boss! He killed a Level 3. Solo. And look... the core is gone. He harvested it."
Riya wrinkled her nose, looking at Aryan as if he were a disease. "Vikram, leave him. He smells like guts. We need to reach the extraction point."
Vikram didn't move. His eyes were locked on the bulge in Aryan's pocket.
"The core," Vikram said, extending a hand. His voice was calm, business-like. "Hand it over."
Aryan stepped back, his back hitting the tree. "I killed it. It's mine. That was the deal—what I kill, I keep."
Vikram chuckled, shaking his head as if explaining something to a child.
"Aryan, Aryan... look at you. You're bleeding. You have no weapon. We are low on supplies. The party needs funds to repair my armor."
He took a step forward, the pressure of his D-Rank mana making the air heavy.
"Think of it as a... protection fee. Give it to me, and I might let you walk back with us. You won't survive the night alone."
The atmosphere shifted instantly. This wasn't a negotiation; it was a robbery.
The voice in Aryan's head returned.
'See? Beasts kill for hunger. Humans kill for greed. Which one is the real monster?'
Aryan looked at Vikram. He looked at the heavy warhammer in Vikram's hand. He calculated the odds.
Winning: 0%.
Surviving: 1%.
Aryan slowly reached into his pocket. He pulled out the glowing Beast Core.
Vikram grinned. "Good dog."
Aryan held it out. Vikram reached for it, his greed making him careless.
Then, Aryan's fingers spread.
The core dropped. Not into Vikram's hand, but into the deep, muddy puddle between them.
The acidic mud swallowed the light instantly.
Vikram's smile vanished. His face contorted into pure rage. "You little..."
"Oops," Aryan said, his face a mask of indifference. "My hands are slippery. Must be the blood."
Vikram raised his hammer. "I'm going to crush your legs."
"Wait!" Riya screamed, pointing at the forest behind them. "LISTEN!"
From the darkness, a sound emerged. Not a growl. A clicking sound. Like a thousand typewriters clacking at once.
Hundreds of red eyes ignited in the dark, moving like a wave of fire.
[ WARNING: REGIONAL EVENT TRIGGERED ]
[ Entity: Obsidian Ant Colony (Swarm) ]
[ Threat Level: A (Disaster) ]
[ Trigger: Sound & Smell of High-Grade Blood ]
Vikram's face went pale. "Ants... A Swarm..."
Obsidian Ants stripped flesh in seconds.
And they were attracted to noise. Vikram's shouting had been the dinner bell.
Aryan looked at the panic on their faces. Then he looked at a small fissure in the rock face behind him—too small for a man in heavy armor, but perfect for a starving, skinny boy.
'Run? No,' the inner voice whispered. 'Adapt. Let them be the shield.'
Aryan looked at Vikram one last time.
"Good luck, Leader."
Before Vikram could swing his hammer, Aryan threw himself backward, squeezing into the rock fissure.
"CATCH HIM!" Vikram roared.
But his roar turned into a scream as the first black ant, the size of a dog, leaped from the trees and clamped its mandibles onto Samir's neck.
Inside the narrow, damp tunnel, Aryan crawled on his elbows, dragging his broken body through the dark. The screams of his "teammates" echoed behind him, fading as he went deeper into the earth.
He didn't look back.
He didn't cry.
He lay on the cold stone of a small underground cavern, staring at the darkness.
"I left them to die," he whispered.
'You survived,' The King's voice corrected, sounding pleased. 'Mercy is a luxury of the powerful. You, my host, are still weak. But tonight... you took the first step.'
Aryan closed his eyes.
The boy who wanted to be a hero died in the rain.
Something else was waking up in the dark.