Kurai slipped into the green depths of the jungle with measured steps, leaving the small group behind at the riverbank. It didn't take long for the dense foliage to swallow all traces of the slow-moving current and the desperate survivors he'd rescued. Before him stretched the labyrinth of vines and shadows, every rustle or birdcall potentially heralding danger—or prey.
A dull ache coiled in his stomach. Hunger. It had been building ever since he woke in this strange realm, a reminder of how precarious survival could be. He tightened his grip on the makeshift spear—a simple wooden shaft with a sharpened stone tip—and pressed on, forging a path through tangled roots and hanging moss. Back by the river, they had no real supplies or certainty. If he returned empty-handed, the group's odds of living through the night would drop even further.
Slivers of midday sun pierced the canopy, painting shifting columns of light across the undergrowth. Kurai paused in one such beam, his mind reeling back to the purpose of this whole scenario, there was so many question. What, how, why... Who? His stomach churned at the thought of some puppeteer controlling his fate, marking him for their own ends. All that matters now is survival, he told himself, forcing his attention back to the hunt.
Eventually, he came upon tracks pressed into a patch of damp earth: elongated paw prints, deep claw marks. Kurai crouched, fingertips tracing one print's edge. Fresh. An hour or so old, at most. And the faint tang of blood drifted on the humid air. Likely the prowler beasts he encountered when first coming here. They'd do as meat—far more suitable than the disturbing, half-human creatures he had killed near the river. The idea of dissecting their vaguely human faces had turned his stomach, but those prowlers seemed closer to what he would've hunted before ending up here.. Far easier to accept carving them up.
Following the tracks led him downhill to a shallow gully. A muddy rivulet trickled along the bottom, carrying leaves and bits of debris downstream. Kurai slipped down the slope, keeping low. He darted behind a mossy trunk that had collapsed into the streambed, scanning ahead. Sure enough, two prowlers slunk through the shadows on the far side, muzzles low as though tracking a scent of their own.
He stilled his breath. Two. Manageable odds—he only needed a single kill to feed himself and the others. He tightened his grip on the spear, feeling the Aether's hum under his skin as if it recognized the coming battle.
One prowler paused at a muddy patch, lifting its head to sniff the air. Its lean flank twitched. The second prowler moved in a slow circle, ears pinned back, its sinewy tail flicking. Kurai could practically feel their tension, a coiled readiness to pounce on whatever they were hunting.
Now or never. He rose from cover, crossing the space in a burst of speed. In a fluid lunge, he slammed the butt of his spear into the first prowler's side. It yelped, staggering, while he spun and drove the sharpened tip into its shoulder. Blood sprayed across the wet ground. The creature's shriek filled the small gully, echoing among the vines.
The second prowler whirled with a throaty hiss, claws extended as it leapt. Kurai twisted aside, letting its claws rake the air just inches from his face. He pivoted, hooking the spear against its hind leg. It stumbled, hitting the mud with a snarl. Without giving it space to recover, Kurai thrust the stone tip at its exposed flank. A sickening crunch met his effort, and the beast howled, thrashing.
He yanked the spear free and rounded on the first prowler, which was limping away, foam-flecked saliva dribbling from its maw. Kurai lunged, ramming the spear into its neck with brutal force. A final, gurgling cry escaped the creature before it collapsed into the filth.
For a heartbeat, silence reigned—cut only by Kurai's ragged breathing and the wet squelch of mud beneath his feet. Then, abruptly, that same cold, dispassionate voice echoed in his mind, as clear as if it stood beside him:
"You have absorbed another creature's Aether. You have grown stronger. 10 points have been allocated."
A shudder ran through Kurai as he caught that eerie echo of power weaving through his blood, almost pulsing in time with his heartbeat. He grimaced. Points. Aether. He didn't understand the mechanism behind it, yet the power pulsing through his body was umistakable.
The second prowler tried to rise, whining in agony. Kurai's eyes hardened. Survival dictated mercy had no place here. He finished the creature with a swift thrust, ending its pain—and collecting, he supposed, more of that Aether in the process.
Sure enough, the voice came again, hollow and indifferent:
"You have absorbed another creature's Aether. You have grown stronger. 10 points have been allocated."
Kurai stood there, very lightly panting, muscles slick with sweat and blood. He cast a wary glance at the brand on his hand, half-expecting it to glow or shift. But it remained as it was—a silent, ominous design. Nonetheless, he felt the tingle beneath his skin, a surge of renewed vitality coursing through his limbs. Whether that was a blessing or a trap, he couldn't say.
Focus on what matters, he told himself. The beast carcasses lay in muddy pools of their own gore, but the meat should still be good, if carefully handled. He would only need one to feed the group for a day or two—dragging both back would be too burdensome and might risk attracting bigger predators. Better to leave one behind as a distraction.
He crouched beside the less-maimed prowler, testing its weight by hefting its hind legs. The new strength in his body made the load manageable. Another grim but necessary chore. With one final glance around the gully to ensure no more prowlers lurked, he hoisted the carcass up, ignoring the sticky warmth staining his arms and clothing.
The journey back to the river was slow, the thick air pressing down like a humid shroud. The faint trickle of water eventually guided him toward familiar territory—he recognized the distinctive slash marks he'd cut into tree trunks to mark his path.
Kurai's features set in a stern mask as he finally glimpsed the river glinting through the trees. The day was slipping away, and the nights here likely didn't bring any more comfort. He would survive, though—he had to. No matter what hidden designs the brand on his hand represented, no matter how many kills it took to feed that cold, calculating system. He would endure. He always had.
Adjusting his grip on the dead prowler's leg, Kurai pressed forward, resolved to see this makeshift camp through another day—and to pry answers from this vicious new world, one hunt at a time.