The forest breathed around Ernal, a symphony of rustling leaves, chirping insects, and the distant caw of a bird unknown. It was a normal forest, green and teeming with life, yet subtly, dangerously different. Every creature here possessed a strength that belied its size. Squirrels could crack bones with their claws, deer could shatter trees with their antlers, and even rabbits… well, the rabbit Ernal was currently stalking was a prime example.

It was a common brown rabbit, yes, but sprouting from its forehead was a single, spiraling horn, gleaming like polished ivory. Horned rabbits weren't uncommon in this part of the woods, but they were notoriously swift and possessed an unnerving ability to sense danger. A single kick from those powerful hind legs could leave a grown man winded.

Ernal, crouched low in a thorny bush, his bright, sunlit eyes fixed on the creature, knew all this. He wasn't particularly strong, nor did he possess any remarkable physical prowess. He was, in all honesty, quite ordinary in build. But he possessed something far more valuable: an innate ability to survive. He could think on his feet, adapt to any situation, and push himself beyond his limits. He had to. The alternative was starvation.

His stomach rumbled, a low growl that threatened to betray his position. He ignored it, focusing on the rabbit, which was now twitching its nose, sniffing the air. Patience, Ernal told himself. Patience was the key.

He had been tracking this rabbit for hours, since the early afternoon. He'd seen larger, more desirable prey – a doe with luminous eyes, a boar with tusks like daggers – but he knew his limitations. He didn't have a Soul Weapon, the legendary weapons bonded to humans with strong souls, weapons that were the only real match for the enhanced fauna of this world. He had only his wits, a crudely fashioned spear, and the clothes on his back.

The history echoed in his mind, a story every child in the scattered human settlements knew. The world teeming with creatures, their origins a mystery, their strength a constant threat. And then, the emergence of the Soul Warriors, humans chosen by fate, their souls resonating with ancient weapons, forming a bond that amplified their strength and granted them the power to defend humanity. Generations had fought and died, holding the line against the encroaching wilderness, carving out small pockets of safety in a world determined to reclaim them.

Ernal wasn't a Soul Warrior. He was just a boy trying to survive.

The rabbit hopped closer, drawn by the scattering of berries Ernal had laid out as bait. It paused, its nose twitching faster now, its eyes darting around suspiciously. Ernal held his breath, every muscle tense. This was his chance.

He waited for the rabbit to take another hop, to fully commit to the berries. Then, with a surge of adrenaline, he burst from the bush, spear raised.

The rabbit reacted instantly, its powerful legs propelling it forward in a blur of brown fur. Ernal lunged, his spear aimed at its flank. He was fast, faster than he had any right to be, fueled by hunger and desperation.

His spear grazed the rabbit's side, drawing a thin line of blood. The rabbit squealed, a surprisingly high-pitched sound, and twisted away, its horn narrowly missing Ernal's face.

He stumbled, momentarily losing his balance. The rabbit, now thoroughly alarmed, darted into the undergrowth.

Damn! Ernal cursed under his breath. He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the stinging scratches from the thorns. He couldn't let it get away. He needed that rabbit.

He plunged into the thicket after it, pushing through the dense foliage. The rabbit was fast, but Ernal was relentless. He pursued it through tangled vines and over fallen logs, his heart pounding in his chest.

He could hear the rabbit just ahead, its frantic breathing a telltale sign. He pushed harder, ignoring the pain in his legs and the sweat stinging his eyes. He had to catch it.

Suddenly, the ground disappeared from beneath him. He gasped, flailing his arms, as he plunged into a deep pit, hidden beneath a layer of leaves and branches.

He landed with a thud, the air knocked from his lungs. He lay there for a moment, dazed and disoriented. When he finally managed to sit up, he realized he was trapped.

The pit was surprisingly deep, at least ten feet, with steep, earthen walls. There was no way he could climb out on his own.

He looked up at the sky, a small circle of blue framed by the green leaves overhead. Despair threatened to engulf him. He was trapped, injured, and alone.

"Great," he muttered to himself. "Just great."

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. Panicking wouldn't help. He needed to think.

As his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the pit, he noticed something strange embedded in one of the walls. It was a glint of metal, partially obscured by dirt and roots.

Curiosity overriding his fear, he crawled over to the wall and began to dig. The soil was loose and damp, and he quickly uncovered the object.

It was a sword. Not just any sword, but a weapon of exquisite craftsmanship. The blade was made of a dark, almost black metal, and the hilt was wrapped in intricately woven leather. It felt strangely warm to the touch, as if it were alive.

As he held the sword, a strange sensation washed over him. It was like a spark igniting within his soul, a connection forming between him and the weapon. He felt a surge of power, a sense of purpose he had never known before.

He knew, without a doubt, that this was a Soul Weapon.

He gripped the sword tightly, his heart pounding with excitement and a touch of fear. He didn't know why this weapon had chosen him, why it had been hidden here in this pit. But he knew one thing: his life had just changed forever.

He tested the blade, swishing it through the air. It felt weightless in his hand, perfectly balanced. He could feel the power coursing through it, waiting to be unleashed.

With a newfound determination, he drove the sword into the earthen wall, creating a foothold. He then used his hands to pull himself up, repeating the process until he reached the top of the pit.

He hauled himself out, gasping for breath, the Soul Weapon still firmly in his grasp. He stood there for a moment, surveying the forest, his eyes shining with newfound confidence.

The world looked different now. He wasn't just Ernal, the boy trying to survive. He was something more. He was a protector, a warrior, a wielder of a Soul Weapon.

The sound of rustling leaves broke his reverie. He turned, his sword raised, ready to face whatever the forest threw at him. He was no longer merely hunting for survival. He was ready to defend. The rabbit with the spiral horn was forgotten. There were bigger things at stake now. The forest, and perhaps the world, needed him. And for the first time in his life, Ernal felt ready.