CHAPTER 34: TO THE LAST BREATH

Growl.

The sound rises from the spot where those crimson eyes gleam. There’s an indescribable hunger in it, a promise that I’m next on the menu. My grip tightens on the scythe—so tight it hurts. Oh wait, my life actually does depend on it...

The dark bushes shudder, and from them steps a creature black as night. It’s nothing I’ve ever seen before. Shaped like a cat, but bigger—much bigger—and with fangs so long they could belong to something born from nightmares.

"Piss off! I’m armed and dangerous, and I’m not afraid to use this... scythe! I’ll slice and dice you into pieces, you stupid cat!" The words burst out of me before I can think. Fear is doing the talking here. My courage has never been high—I was always the type to run—until the system started reshaping me.

At least now I can stand and speak. In the past, I’d probably have let my shaky legs give out and allowed the creature to have its meal.

But today... I’ll fight. To my last breath.

The monster’s body slouches low, its back legs lifting as if bracing for something big. It’s going to jump.

I swing my scythe ahead of time, every instinct screaming danger, and thank my stupid luck I did, because the very next heartbeat, the creature launches at me.

My blade meets it vertically, and for a moment, I’m certain it’ll be sliced in half. But instead... something far worse happens.

Ravens erupt from its body the instant my blade breaks skin—like a soap bubble bursting, only instead of harmless water, it’s a violent storm of wings and shrieks.

The sound is deafening—flap-flap-flap—the rush of air as black feathers whip against my face, their wings battering me until I can barely keep my footing. Beaks stab into me from every direction, each puncture hot and sharp, tearing through flesh like wet paper.

I can’t see, can’t breathe—just the chaos of feathers, the sting of every wound, and the taste of iron flooding my mouth.

Then, as suddenly as they came, the ravens scatter, melting into the shadows between the trees.

Silence returns... but my body is a map of holes, blood seeping from me in thin, steady rivers.

"S-h-i-t..." The word barely scrapes out of my trembling voice. Every breath, every twitch sends pain screaming through me. I want to cry, but no tears come. I can’t even move... my body feels locked in ice.

I need help... I need someone to heal me. Anybody...

But the cruel reality settles in. I have nobody. Not even my author powers to patch myself up. It’s just me and this damned forest.

I stand there for what feels like ten minutes, swaying on my feet. My head spins. Any second now, I might black out.

Ssshhhhhrrrrrr...

A long hiss slithers into my ears, pulling my gaze to the tall tree on my left. High among several branches, a snake rests—its body coiled tight, its head raised, watching me like I’m a tasty chicken. Its scales are pure crimson, as if it’s already bathed in blood.

It shifts, muscles coiling, preparing to move. But I can’t run. My body won’t listen. I have to do something—anything! Move, damn it! Move! MOVE, I SAID!

My legs shoot forward as fast as they can, even with my head spinning. Just in time; the next moment, the snake’s fangs slam into the ground where I’d been standing, its body vanishing into the bloody forest floor.

I don’t look back. I just run. Running and running... How long has it been now? I glance around, but it all looks the same. Every tree is identical, perfectly symmetrical, like the forest is a copy-paste nightmare. Am I running in circles, or am I dreaming? This place is messing with my head! Anger burns in my chest.

The hunger here is suffocating. I’ve probably bled twenty liters by now, and yet I haven’t passed out. I’m still alive—like the forest is keeping me here on purpose, just to toy with me.

At least let me die, damn it!

I stop running. I’m so hungry... I’ve never felt hunger like this in my entire life—it’s suffocating, pressing against my ribs like it wants to crush me from the inside out. I glance around, but there’s nothing here that resembles food.

No... wait. There’s something.

If you can even call it food.

A fat, pale larva clings to the bark of a nearby tree. It’s slick, white, and disturbingly plump. My stomach twists, and I want to vomit just from looking at it. But my body screams at me: Eat, or you’ll die right here, right now.

My fingers reach toward it, but I hesitate. No. I can’t give this place what it wants. I can’t let it break me that easily.

...And yet my hand moves anyway.

When I try to lift it, it’s heavy—absurdly heavy, like I’m trying to pick up Roxy’s axe. My arms strain as I push my strength to the limit, barely prying it free from the bark before I drop it into my mouth.

Strangely, it feels light as a feather now, and my teeth sink into it before I can even think.

The moment my teeth break its skin, flavor detonates across my tongue—flavor I wish I could erase from existence. Imagine this: take a rotten potato, mash it together with rancid pork, and then drown the mix in salt until your tongue begs for mercy. Yeah... something like that.

My hands shoot to my throat, desperately trying to hold it down as bile burns in my chest. My scythe slips from my grasp and sinks into the soil.

No! I scream inside my own head, my throat too busy fighting to keep the horror down. I sweep the ground with my foot, searching for my weapon, but it’s gone. Vanished.

Hysteria creeps in, and my vision blurs. Tears sting my eyes, but when they hit my arms, they’re red. Blood. I’m crying blood.

The thought alone chills me enough to silence my cries.

Finally, the violent spasms in my stomach ease. As disgusting as it was, the thing has filled me to the brim. But already, I can feel it—the more blood I lose, the hungrier I get.

I need to find something to patch these holes.

I stare into the dark, endless forest. My hope is long gone, but something in my chest still pushes me forward.

I will get out. I will. No matter what, I will!