A plan. He needed a plan.
Kurai exhaled slowly, his thoughts steady despite the storm of uncertainty. Where do I begin…?
As if in response, the knowledge embedded in his mind surfaced with stark clarity—brief, unembellished, and absolute:
Survive. Collect points.
The words echoed in his mind, simple yet carrying an undeniable weight.
Fifteen seconds remain.
Around him, the others still stood frozen, their eyes darting, uncertainty etched into every tense muscle.
Ten seconds remain.
He rolled his shoulders, loosening the stiffness in his joints. His legs flexed, his stance shifting ever so slightly. The body must be prepared before the mind—his old master's words echoed in his thoughts. A warrior who hesitates in the moment of battle is a warrior already dead. He knew he needed a vantage point, assess the situation.
Five seconds remain.
The jungle was a battlefield waiting to happen. The terrain held promise—elevation for scouting, thick foliage for concealment, though the branches seemed too thick to be broken of easily - no weapon, for now. His hands still ached for the familiar weight of his naginata, but that loss had to be set aside. Adaptation would keep him alive.
Three.
His eyes flickered to the others one last time. They were dressed in strange fabrics, too fine, too clean—garments not made for war. Their hands twitched, unsure. No discipline. No readiness. The moment the world shifted, they would scramble and break.
Two.
Breath in. Breath out. Control the moment.
One.
Kurai moved.
The world shifted.
One moment, Kurai stood on solid ground, poised like a coiled serpent. The next, the space around him snapped—mist fracturing into nothingness as the jungle solidified in its place. His feet pressed into damp earth, the sudden weight of reality forcing his body into motion.
He did not hesitate.
His muscles carried him forward in a swift, controlled sprint. The others remained frozen, their minds still catching up to what had transpired. He heard the sharp intake of breath, the startled cries, but he paid them no mind. Every second wasted was an opportunity lost.
The undergrowth parted beneath his footfalls, branches whispering against his skin as he cut through the foliage. Sunlight, pale and distant, filtered through the canopy in fragmented beams, illuminating the tangled chaos of the jungle floor. He moved with purpose, weaving between roots and thick vegetation, each step measured, each motion deliberate.
Kurai reached the base of a large tree, its gnarled roots forming a natural barrier. With a single leap, he caught hold of a low-hanging branch, hoisting himself up in one quick motion. His body followed in a fluid arc, propelling himself higher with a single, seamless motion. The branch groaned under his weight, but he adjusted his grip, climbing with steady precision until he reached a height that granted him a clear view.
From his vantage point, the jungle stretched endlessly, its deep green expanse broken only by the shadows of more figures —people, some disoriented, others still as statues.
Some of them had begun to move, stumbling like newborn fawns, their panic written in every frantic motion. Others remained still, eyes darting, hands clenched in fear or confusion. No weapons. No understanding. They were prey before they even realized they were in a hunt.
Kurai narrowed his eyes.
The jungle did not remain silent for long.
A rustle. A disturbance in the undergrowth. Kurai's grip on the branch tightened as his gaze flicked toward the source of the sound. The foliage trembled, leaves quivering in anticipation—then, the first predator emerged.
It was low to the ground, its sleek, sinewy body covered in dark, thin fur that shimmered in the half-light. A beast like no animal he had ever seen, its long limbs bent unnaturally, its claws clicking against the earth as it crept forward. Eyes like molten amber fixed upon the scattered figures below. It was not alone.
To the left, another prowler slinked from between the thick vines, its body draped in shifting patterns of black and gray, its form blending almost seamlessly with the shadows. Further ahead, a deep-throated growl rumbled from the depths of the jungle, followed by the heavy snap of branches. Something larger. Something unseen.
Kurai's mind worked swiftly. The timing was deliberate. The moment of disorientation, the confusion of arrival—this was no accident. They were thrown into this place like raw meat, and the beasts were already closing in to feed.
Below him, one of the strangers stumbled back, eyes wide as the first predator advanced, its movements slow, deliberate—a hunter savoring its helpless prey. A man in a different garb, his breath coming in ragged gasps, hands raised as if to ward off the inevitable.
Fool.
Kurai did not look away. Every instinct told him to watch, to learn. This was the nature of this world. This was the first lesson.
The beast paused, its sinewy muscles taut, coiling like a spring ready to snap. Then, with a sudden, terrifying burst of speed, it lunged. In an instant, its jaws closed around the stranger's throat, a sickening crunch echoing through the air as the man's scream was silenced. Without a moment's hesitation, the predator yanked the body away, dragging it into the shadows as if it were no more than a plaything, leaving only the faint rustling of disturbed foliage in its wake.
Kurai remained motionless, his gaze locked on the shadows where the beast had disappeared. His breath steady, his mind calculating. He had seen many men die in his lifetime—some by his own hand, others by the blades of his enemies. But this... this was different. This was not a battle. It was a slaughter.
A grim realization settled in his chest. There would be no honor here. No code of Bushido to uphold law and order. Only survival.