Waking up from a deep dream. The kind of unpleasant dream where you couldn't breathe, where darkness pressed in from all sides, suffocating and endless. Then slowly, gradually, fragments of light and sound began to seep through. Thoughts formed. Awareness returned.
I exist. I'm alive.
Giri's body instinctively gasped for air, waking him up to a burning sensation in his chest.
Air... I'm breathing?
Rain pelted his face, each drop like ice against his skin. The ground beneath pressed cold and wet against his back, mud seeping into his clothes. His eyes fluttered open, vision blurry at first, then gradually focusing.
Dark clouds churned overhead, their depths illuminated by brief flashes of lightning. The downpour created sheets of water that limited visibility to mere feet ahead.
Giri's arms trembled as he pushed himself up. His head spun, the world tilting and swaying around him. A damp, earthy smell filled his nostrils, mixed with something else - something burnt.
His body struggled to stay balanced. He leaned against a nearby tree trunk, only to recognize half of the trunk was blackened. Smoke still sizzled despite the rain.
"What... where am I?" His voice came out hoarse, barely audible over the storm's fury.
Thunder cracked overhead. His legs wobbled, shorter and weaker than he remembered. The rain continued its assault, plastering his hair to his forehead.
"Help!" The call tore from his throat, higher and thinner than his normal voice.
"Help! Is anyone there?" His words echoed across the empty landscape, swallowed by the storm's fury.
He froze. The echo of his voice lingered, both in the air and his mind. It sounded wrong, too high, too young.
His hand flew to his throat. The skin was unfamiliar. But other than that, it seemed fine, nothing seemed "wrong" with it.
This voice...
The sound that emerged confirmed his horror. This wasn't his voice nor his throat.
Giri looked down at himself. His arms were thin, lacking their usual muscle. His hands appeared smaller, softer. Even standing upright, the world seemed larger, taller, more imposing than before.
His heart hammered against his ribs as understanding dawned. This wasn't his body. This was the body of a child.
The tunic he wore hung loose and damp, its fabric scorched black in places. The pattern of burns matched the lightning-struck tree beside him, as if the bolt had passed through him on its way to the ground.
His thoughts slowly returned, fragments piecing themselves together. The lab. He had been at the lab, maybe moments ago. The chair, the neural interface headset. Something had gone wrong with the pod.
"This must be..." he whispered in that strange, young voice.
More memories of the pod emerged - the searing electricity, the convulsions, the moment his heart stopped. A cold deeper than the rain seeped into his bones.
"Quit!"
The command echoed through the forest, lost in a roll of thunder.
"Logout!"
Rain streamed down his face, each drop a pinprick of ice.
"Exit!"
His voice cracked, desperation rising.
"Aeona, terminate!"
Nothing changed. No menu appeared. No loading screen. Just endless rain and darkness.
Giri's fingers flew through familiar gestures - swipes, pinches, taps that should have triggered interface windows. He pictured commands in his mind, willing them to manifest. But the forest remained stubbornly, terrifyingly real.
Thunder boomed closer, the sound vibrating through his chest. Lightning split the sky, illuminating the sea of trees stretching in every direction. For a moment, Giri glimpsed his reflection in a puddle - a young boy's face stared back, eyes wide with fear.
"This isn't right," His hands trembled as he tried another series of gestures. "There should be UI elements, menu options, something!"
But there was only rain, thunder, and the growing certainty that this was far more than any game he'd ever created.
Giri remained motionless. Raindrops slid down his skin in icy rivulets, the cold seeping deeper with each drop. A prickling sensation built up on his face.
He wiped his face for relief, fingers brushing against smooth skin. No familiar indent from his glasses. The world around him stood in sharp focus - each leaf, every branch, the intricate patterns of bark on distant trees. Details he hadn't seen without assistance since middle school.
"I can see," His child-like voice wavered. "Everything's clear."
Giri looked at the tree again, trying to understand what had happened before he 'arrived' here.
Lightning must have struck this tree. And somehow, this... whoever this was. Looking at what it did to the tree, anyone caught in that strike should be dead.
How am I even alive?
The question somehow fit both scenarios perfectly - him at the lab and this boy.
Giri's mind shifted into problem-solving mode, pushing aside the panic and confusion. Standing here wouldn't provide answers - he needed to move, to understand what happened.
His eyes scanned the surrounding area. The hill's elevation offered a vantage point above the dense forest below. Through gaps in the trees, the land sloped downward in gentle waves, creating natural paths between the trunks.
A flicker of movement caught his attention. Through the curtain of rain, a column of dark smoke rose above the treeline. The sight stood out against the storm - smoke shouldn't rise in such a downpour unless...
Giri took his first step toward the smoke, and pain shot through his leg. His muscles screamed in protest, each movement bringing fresh waves of agony. His lungs burned with every breath, as if they'd forgotten how to function properly.
"This body is weak... the lightning must have..." He gasped, steadying himself against a tree.
But compared to the moment on the pod earlier, the aches still felt manageable. He pushed away from the tree, forcing his small legs forward.
Each step down the hill sent jolts through his weakened body, but Giri pressed on. The smoke remained his beacon, a promise of answers in this strange new reality.
Through the curtain of rain, a howl pierced the air. The sound vibrated through Giri's small frame, a mix of high-pitched keening and deep bass that made his teeth rattle. His heart skipped - this wasn't the call of any natural predator.
"Crap!" The word burst from his lips as he forced his aching body to move faster, ignoring the stabbing pain in his chest.
The hillside fought against every step. Wet leaves and mud made the ground treacherous, while low branches reached out like grasping fingers to snag his tunic. Moss-slicked rocks threatened to send him tumbling with each careful placement of his feet.
Giri paused to catch his breath, his back leaning against a thick trunk. The sound of tearing flesh reached his ears - wet, methodical ripping that made his stomach turn. He crept forward and crouched behind a dense bush, peering into a small clearing ahead. His eyes widened at the sight before him.
"Is that?... No way."
A creature crouched over its prey, tearing into flesh with savage intensity. Its form resembled a wolf, but everything about it was wrong. Coarse, matted fur covered its body, while bony spikes protruded from its neck in a grotesque parody of a mane. Each spike looked razor-sharp, designed for rending flesh. Below it lay the remains of some small, four-legged animal.
Poor thing. Whatever it is, better leave it alone.
Giri took a step back, only to find his foot cracked a dead branch.
Dammit! Of all the stupid... classic rookie mistake.
The creature's head snapped up, its snout twitching as it sampled the air. Giri's heart froze.
Oh no.
It took a step forward, eyes narrowing as they fixed on his position. Each step was soft and precisely placed, its body hunched down like it was ready to pounce, lips pulled back to reveal rows of sharp teeth.
If it lunged, he would have no strength to fight back. Who was he kidding - even his grown-up body would stand no chance against this thing.
The creature stepped closer, mere steps away from him. The only "barrier" between him and certain death was this pathetic bush.
Lightning split the sky, a brilliant flash that turned night to day. Thunder cracked simultaneously as the bolt struck the creature dead-on. Sparks exploded outward, accompanied by wisps of smoke. The beast's body went rigid, convulsing before collapsing to the ground.
Giri didn't wait to see what happened next. He scrambled backward, nearly losing his footing on the wet ground as he turned and ran. His feet carried him toward the distant smoke column, putting as much distance as possible between himself and that thing.
"Did it... die?" The question hit him as he fled through the trees.
"Let's not do something rash right now. Just keep moving."
Recognition dawned in Giri's mind as he fled. That creature - he knew exactly what it was. He'd spent weeks perfecting its design, tweaking every detail from the bone spikes to the matted fur.
He'd created it.
Giri stepped onto solid ground. After the treacherous forest floor, the dirt trail felt like salvation. It meandered through the trees toward where the smoke rose.
He was about to follow the path when something tugged at his mind. A memory, but not his own.
Images flooded his consciousness - this same path on sunny days, the earth warm and dry. The rhythmic thud of multiple footsteps, voices chattering and laughing. His small legs moving in sync with others, a sense of belonging washing over him.
The memories came with a wave of dizziness that made him stumble. These weren't his memories - they belonged to this body, to the child whose form he now inhabited. Yet they felt as real as his own recollections.
"I've walked this path before," He whispered, then corrected himself. "Or rather, this young boy has."
Safety. That's what these phantom memories whispered. This path meant protection, community, home. The feeling settled with absolute certainty, as natural as breathing.
"Almost there," The words came unbidden to his lips, driven by instinct rather than conscious thought.
His feet moved forward, following the dirt path with surprising surety despite his exhaustion. Each step felt familiar, guided by muscle memory that wasn't truly his. The smoke grew closer, and with it, the promise of answers.
Through the curtain of rain, Giri crested a small rise in the path. His breath caught at the sight before him.
Sharp logs bunched together into a formidable spike barrier, each point angled outward like deadly spears. The rain-slicked timber gleamed menacingly in the dim light.
This wasn't built to keep out wild animals - this was a fortress designed for war.
The barrier towered over the two guards stationed at its gate, their forms barely visible through the downpour. Metal buckles and armor pieces glinted as lightning flashed overhead, catching the dim light.
A voice cut through the storm from one of the towers. "By the gods - look there!"
Giri's legs trembled, threatening to give out. His vision blurred at the edges as exhaustion crept in.
"Wait, it's him!" Another voice called out, closer this time. "Someone tell Mari, we found him!"
One of the guards broke away from his post, boots splashing through puddles as he rushed toward Giri. The rain traced rivulets down his leather armor, metal plates reflecting the stormy sky above.
Giri tried to focus on the approaching figure, but his eyes refused to cooperate. His body felt distant, disconnected, as if floating away from his consciousness. His knees buckled.
Strong arms caught him before he hit the ground. The guard lifted him with surprising gentleness, cradling him against a rain-soaked chest. Giri had no strength left to resist, his small form feeling oddly weightless as darkness crept into the edges of his vision.
The guard's steady stride carried Giri through the village gates. Rain drummed against wooden roofs and cobblestone paths as they moved deeper into the settlement. Through half-lidded eyes, Giri caught glimpses of the buildings - solid structures of timber and stone that spoke of permanence and protection.
They passed the village square where a massive bonfire defied the downpour. Orange flames danced skyward, casting flickering shadows across the gathered crowd. Giri's blurry vision fixed on a hooded figure near the flames, their hands moving in practiced motions. The patterns triggered recognition in his mind.
"Vel!"
A voice rang out clear through the rain. Giri turned his head toward the sound, his neck protesting the movement.
A woman rushed toward them, her blonde hair tied in a practical knot that didn't quite contain all its strands. Her yellow and white dress swirled around her legs as she moved, something about her appearance tugging at the edge of his consciousness.
Her face bore the sharp lines of worry, but something about her features sparked recognition in Giri's mind. Not his memories, but this body's - a deep, instinctive knowledge that bypassed conscious thought.
The guard lowered him into her waiting arms. She pulled him close, her warmth seeping through his rain-soaked clothes. The contact felt right, natural, as if his small form belonged there.
Following that gut feeling, that bone-deep certainty, Giri whispered: "Mom?"
Her expression softened, tears welling in her eyes as she held him tighter.
"Vel! Where have you been?" Her voice started sharp with frustration, but softened as she held him closer. "I've warned you about going near the glade. You've had me worried sick! Your father's already gone out looking for you."
The world began to fade around the edges. Giri's tongue felt heavy as he managed: "I...I got struck by lightning."
His eyelids drooped, exhaustion claiming the last of his strength. The woman's - his mother's - worried face blurred as consciousness slipped away.
---
End of Chapter 2.