I climbed down from the tree, my thoughts clearer. I had goals. Precise. Simple. Vital.
I looked for sturdy vines, as many as I could find. A long, straight stick. A stone I could sharpen on the river rocks.
So I searched. For a long time. Until I came across a twisted tree, its roots deformed by moisture and time. Its vines hung like dead ropes, oily black, almost charcoal. They looked like nothing I knew.
Too dark. Too dense. Not of this earth.
I pulled. They resisted. As if they refused to give. So I used my teeth — not very sharp, not very effective, but they were all I had. I gnawed. Bit by bit. Piece by piece. And after long minutes with clenched jaws, I managed to detach one. Then two. Then three.
I took as many as I could carry. My body screamed at me to stop, but I climbed back up to my branch, arms trembling. I placed the vines on the wood, then climbed back down.
This time, I found what I needed: a long stick, a bit rough, but straight. And a stone. Triangular. Perfect.
I followed the riverbank to the rocks. I knelt. And I scraped.
For a long time.
The stone grated, screeched, resisted. But little by little, it gave way. I shaped edges, angles. A point. A stone fang.
I took a black vine. I wrapped it. Tied it, pulled it tight, bit it. And I fixed the improvised blade to the end of the stick.
It was crude. Twisted. Poorly balanced.
But it was a spear.
I had something to defend myself.
I wasn't naked anymore.
Well… technically, yes. I was naked. That fucking race didn't even give clothes to children. Even that, you had to earn.
But I had a weapon. An intention. A shape.
I wasn't prey anymore. Not completely.
I took the black vines, the longest, the sturdiest.
I stretched them from one trunk to another, not too high — not too low either. About ankle height. Just enough to trip. Just enough for a fast runner, an overconfident hunter, to fall with a crack.
I did that between several trees, arranged in a semicircle around my area. A simple trap. Primitive. But sometimes, simplicity kills better than grand schemes.
I kept one. Just one. I brought it back up to my branch. That one wasn't a trap.
It was my lifeline.
Night was beginning to fall. Slowly but surely. Shadows stretched between the trunks, swallowing the light. The temperature dropped. Brutally. As if the forest, at night, emptied itself of breath.
So I climbed again, higher than last time. I tied myself to the trunk with the vine, tight, but not too tight. Tight enough not to fall while sleeping. Loose enough to untie if I had to flee.
I pressed myself against the bark.
And I waited.
I knew I shouldn't wander. Not at that hour. Those who walk in darkness, in this world, are never those who seek light. True predators don't hunt in sunlight. Daytime is for the weak, the wounded, the opportunists.
Night… is for them.
And me, even with my goblin eyes capable of piercing the dark… I still wasn't strong enough to survive it.
So I didn't move. I calmed my breath. I listened.
The sounds changed. Slower. More stretched. Creaks. Slithers. Moans the wind couldn't fully carry. Silence itself became a threat.
I closed my eyes.
Not to sleep. Just to blend in.
To become wood. Bark. Vine.
And wait.
I thought I could sleep.
That was stupid.
With the sounds crawling around me and the memories of another world stuck in my head, it was impossible. My body was tense, every muscle contracted like an overtightened rope. My breath was short, ragged, almost painful.
So I tried to laugh. Softly. To myself. To ease the pressure a little. But it rang false, like a creak in the dark.
I was a kid. Nothing more.
Before all this, I was… normal. Truly normal. Not an adventurer. Not a fighter. Not a survivalist. Just a lost med student who spent more time rereading his notes than looking up at the world.
And now, I was here. Naked. Tied to a tree trunk, in a forest that wanted me dead. With a makeshift spear, fear in my gut, and the certainty that if I fell asleep, I'd never wake up.
So I tried to reassure myself. To breathe slowly. To convince myself everything would be fine.
But it was just… too hard.
I couldn't close my eyes. Even knowing I could see in the dark. Even knowing the vine held me. I couldn't.
Because I didn't know what lived here.
Because I knew nothing of this world.
Not its laws. Not its monsters. Not its gods.
I was just a pawn thrown onto a chessboard I didn't understand. And the only thing I could do… was wait.
So I prayed.
Not to be saved. No.
I prayed not to meet, that night, something too strong.
Something too fast.
Something real.
And I stayed there, eyes wide open, suspended in the void like a drop ready to fall.
A few hours had passed.
A few hours clenched like a knot, in unbearable tension. My muscles ached from staying so tight, my breath was short, my head heavy. And then, I heard it.
Running. Distant.
My thoughts froze.
Don't come here.
Don't come here.
Don't come here.
I repeated it like a mantra. Like a prayer.
But the sounds drew nearer.
Closer and closer.
Inevitable.
Like something the world had decided to give me — or rip from me.
Fucking world, I thought.
I tried to calm myself. Breathe. Blend into the trunk. But my body refused. It shook, wracked with uncontrollable tremors. I felt the vine tight against my belly, my side, where it held me to the trunk. My only link to safety. To the heights.
I slowly slid my fingers along it, groping in the dark, and loosened it, centimeter by centimeter, until it no longer held me. Then I slid it off the bark, unhooking it from the trunk, and coiled it in my left hand.
Slow. Quiet. Silent.
Ah…
I really looked like a poor bastard.
Isekai heroes don't tremble. They draw their magic sword, deliver a badass speech, and kill. Me?
I was shivering, mouth dry, heart on fire.
I was dying of fear. Not hunger. Not wounds. Fear.
I coiled the vine in my left hand. Gripped my makeshift spear in the other.
And the footsteps drew closer.
Then I saw him.
A goblin. One from the group. One of those who had beaten me, humiliated me, trampled me.
He was running, gasping, body smeared with blood, bite marks tearing his flesh on his flank, on his shoulder.
He was running for his life.
And behind him…
A wolf.
Not a giant monster, not a demonic creature. Just a wolf. Big. Wild. Natural.
Deadly enough.
It charged, relentless, mouth open, fangs gleaming under the moonlight.
And then…
The goblin fell.
Caught in my vine trap.
He tumbled, slid, and collapsed right beneath my branch, barely three meters away.
I saw everything. Every beat. Every second.
The wolf approached. Slowly.
As if it was already savoring its meat.
My heart pounded in my chest. My skull throbbed.
I had to do something.
Evolve.
Kill.
But I was afraid. One mistake… and I'd be dead.
So without thinking any further, I acted.
With my left hand, I threw the vine to the side. It slapped the ground, drawing the wolf's attention, and it briefly turned its head.
But I was already in the air.
Spear pointed down. A tense fall. Direct. Brutal.
I landed on it with all my weight.
A sharp crack.
The wood shattered.
But the point pierced through. Clean. Deep.
The wolf staggered. But I didn't stop.
I clawed. I bit. I struck, again and again.
I screamed. Like a beast.
Like a being discovering adrenaline.
The real kind. The kind born from the abyss.
I slaughtered the carcass. Long after it was dead.
A primitive frenzy. An explosion.
Fear no longer existed. It had been replaced.
By rage.
Then… I stood up. Trembling. Breath short.
And then, I saw it.
The light.
A violet mist, soft, supernatural, rose from the corpse and wrapped around me. It entered me. Slowly. Deeply.
And I felt it.
Strength.
Not much.
But more than before.
So that's how it works… I thought.
That's how you evolve.
Next to me, the wounded goblin looked at me.
With respect. With fear.
Me, the weak one, I had killed his predator.
Here… I was the predator.
Not because I was strong. But because I struck first. Because I didn't hesitate.
I pulled the broken tip of my spear from the wolf's body. The wood was split, the blade twisted. But still usable.
I growled:
— Eat. Get your strength. Then rest.
He looked at me, shocked. But he obeyed. Slowly, he crawled toward the wolf, opened his mouth, ready to bite into the still-warm flesh.
And then… something sprouted.
He would talk about me. To the others. To the group.
He would say I had set a trap, that I had struck. That I was dangerous.
He'd be of no use to me.
Just another mouth. A witness.
And maybe…
a flicker of desire rose in me.
A discreet thought, shameful, but clear:
Maybe he too would give me that violet light.
That warm shiver, that strange whisper that had passed through me.
One more step toward strength. One more step toward survival.
Risk: high.
Reward: likely.
Morality: irrelevant.
The choice was easy.
It wasn't the wolf's blood that ran down his throat.
But his own.
My spear sank into his neck without a sound.
He had turned his back. Thinking the danger had passed.
Thinking I was an ally.
A savior.
But I wasn't.
Not here. Not in this world.
The violet light entered me a second time. Brighter. Warmer.
And I growled, to myself. To him. To this fucked-up world.
— Fucking goblin.