I hid among some bushes, the air escaping my lungs.
I desperately needed to rest.
But there was no time.
Even if my body complained, my mind couldn't afford to lower its guard.
I just needed to create—come up with—a plan of action.
I placed my hand on the bush.
And I felt movement inside it.
Then suddenly, I was met with a snake.
It lunged to bite me, fangs open, venom glistening like thick saliva.
I didn't scream.
I didn't have time.
Pure reflex—I caught it midair, my fingers locking behind its head just before it sank into my wrist.
Its body coiled around my forearm, tightening, desperate.
I felt the strength, the cold muscles twisting.
I slammed it against the ground.
A dry crack.
Then another.
When it stopped moving, I set the knife at the right angle and pressed.
The venom came out thick, milky, sliding along the blade.
I let it soak the metal with obsessive care.
Then I did the same with the tribal weapon.
It was improvised.
Dirty.
But deadly.
I cut a branch and drove it into the damp soil.
Watched the shadow it cast.
Too long.
Too fast.
Sunset.
I swallowed.
"Great…" I muttered.
I thought:
"If this subdimension is different from the world of War of Kingdoms… and it doesn't have 26 hours… I hope it's 24."
Because if not…
this was going to drag on too long.
Worst-case scenario: night.
Twelve hours until the penalty ended.
Maybe until dawn.
I just had to survive to get back.
And as if the world heard my thoughts and decided to laugh, the sky darkened all at once.
Not slow.
Not natural.
Like someone flipped a switch.
The shadows stretched… and moved.
I heard footsteps around me.
Not one.
Many.
Heavy breathing.
Branches snapping.
A low, animal murmur.
The tribes didn't sleep.
They hunted.
I crawled through the undergrowth, holding my breath, feeling the sticky mud against my chest.
A few meters away, I saw bare legs pass by, covered in scars.
Another shadow stopped.
Sniffed the air.
Saw me.
The scream shattered the night like a gunshot.
Everything exploded into motion.
And for the hundredth time, I ran.
Not forward.
Not backward.
Toward where the terrain became more uneven.
Primitive arrows whistled past. One grazed my shoulder, tearing skin.
I felt the heat of blood running.
No time to think about it.
I cleared a branch-covered pit by inches.
Heard a body fall inside.
Bones cracking.
A short scream.
I didn't look back.
No time.
The first attacker reached me from the side.
I drove the knife into his thigh.
The venom worked fast.
Too fast.
The man screamed… and collapsed, convulsing.
Another came from the right. I brought the tribal weapon down and buried it in his neck.
Blood burst out—hot, dark—soaking my hand.
This wasn't combat.
It was survival.
The drums started again.
Faster this time.
Closer.
A hunting rhythm.
Then the ground shook.
Something heavy moved through the trees, snapping trunks like dry sticks.
A deep roar tore through the air.
Not human.
Not any normal animal.
The tribes' screams changed.
Fear.
Perfect.
I ran toward the sound.
I knew it was a suicidaldecision.
But if something bigger entered the game, the rules changed.
In chaos, no one hunts well. No one thinks clearly.
Because when there's a greater predator, everyone focuses on the most immediate threat.
Because I… I just neededa few seconds.
I threw myself downhill, slipping, falling, rolling through mud and blood.
I got up unsteadily, lungs burning, vision trembling from adrenaline.
Darkness.
Screams.
A body flew over me and slammed against a rock.
That's when I saw it.
A massive bulk of muscle and fangs, skin covered in ritual markings and old scars.
Small, intelligent eyes.
Not a wild animal.
A weapon.
And it was loose.
The tribes fled.
Some tried to attack it.
They died.
I clenched my teeth.
"Okay…" I whispered. "This has completely gone to hell."
I turned and ran again.
Blending into the trees, using the noise, using the fear.
Using whatever I could.
Every step hurt.
My ankle was still bleeding.
My hands trembled.
My muscles were already screaming.
But my mind…
My mind was cold.
Counting routes.
Rhythms.
Shadows.
Twelve hours.
"Just twelve damn hours."
And as the night fully closed in around me, I accepted it with an almost sick calm:
I wasn't going to win.
I wasn't going to save anyone.
I was just going to do what I knew best at this point in my life.
Not die.
I moved through the forest in the dark.
Trying to stay hidden.
Still. Trying to rest in the process.
Breathing just enough.
Time passed… Clouds shifted overhead.
And in the glow of the moon, I was drawn in.
For a long time, I watched the world tear itself apart.
These weren't battles.
They were overlapping wars.
Continuous. Endless.
As if this subdimension had falleninto anarchy—or madness.
And then…
A new tribe appeared from the east, bodies covered in white ash, longer weapons, different war cries.
Then a third one I had never seen, from the north, wearing skull masks and jagged spears.
They didn't ally.
They didn't even negotiate.
They simply collided.
The field became a whirlwind of flesh and mud.
Men and women falling with throats torn open.
Skulls shattered by stones.
Screams that started human and ended as animals.
The ground grew so dark with blood it stopped reflecting the sky.
I didn't move.
If I did, I'd reveal myself.
I stayed completely still.
Learning.
I counted rhythms.
How they advanced.
How they retreated.
How the wounded played dead… until someone came close.
The air filled with flies. The smell thickened—almost chewable.
I saw a child attack with a stone and get crushed seconds later.
I saw an old man pierce three enemies before falling with a spear through his chest.
When the moon finally dipped, few remained.
The victors breathed heavily. Bleeding. Leaning on their weapons.
They were stronger than me.
If I tried anything, they'd kill me in seconds.
Fortunately… they thought it was over.
It was a mistake.
That's when I learned my first lesson in this war subdimension:
"If you let your guard down, you die."
The ground trembled.
From the undergrowth emerged massive monkeys—red-skinned, arms too long, jaws capable of snapping bones like dry sticks.
They didn't scream.
They attacked.
One ripped a warrior off the ground and smashed him in half against a rock.
Another used a corpse as a club.
The victors became prey in seconds.
I stepped back silently.
Then… the sky screamed.
A colossal shadow passed over the field.
The wind turned violent.
I looked up.
A massive bird, wings wide enough to blot out the stars.
Dark feathers. A curved beak like a guillotine.
Its eyes…
weren't animal.
They were thinking.
It saw me.
I knew it.
I ran.
Not thinking.
Not calculating.
Just instinct.
I ran like my soul had seen the devil.
Trees shattered from the force of the air behind me.
Its claws struck where I had been a second before.
The ground turned slick.
And as if the world wanted me dead already—
it started raining.
Hard.
The sky opened, and everything became mud and noise.
I ran until I reached a cliff.
My breathing was ragged.
My endurance beyond its limit.
No way out.
The bird descended.
The wind nearly threw me into the void.
Its shadow swallowed me whole.
The beak dropped—straight for my head.
No hesitation.
Because hesitation meant death.
I pulled out the underwater shotgun.
And fired.
It didn't kill it.
But it screamed in pain.
The recoil blasted me backward.
And I fell.
My perception slowed…
My body spinning—
Then… water.
A raging river swallowed me.
Impacts.
Rocks.
Water in my mouth.
My body spinning out of control in the current.
I tried not to panic.
Going with the flow was better than fighting it.
I let it carry me until I felt ground under my feet.
I crawled out—then crack.
A pain so sharp it locked my jaw.
Something had pierced my side.
I knew it.
Recognized it.
A broken rib.
I screamed without sound, not to give away my position.
I collapsed on the bank, breathing like every inhale was a fight.
My body burned.
Honestly… I couldn't go on.
If I kept pushing like this, I might survive—but die from exhaustion.
When I looked down…
Leeches.
Swollen with my blood.
"Damn it," I thought.
One by one.
With the knife—the only thing I hadn't lost in the river—
I ripped one off.
Then another.
Then another.
Each pull burned.
I lost track of time.
But at least I had a few minutes to rest.
And when I could move again, I found the body of a tribesman caught between branches.
Dead.
He had an old bow.
Worn string.
Crooked arrows.
I took it.
For the first time since I arrived…
I thought calmly.
I looked at my trembling hands.
My chest now wrapped in torn fabric.
Rain falling.
—I can do this…—I muttered.—One step at a time.
I tightened my grip on the bow.
—If I survive this…—I took a deep breath,— next time, I'll be ready for anything.
The night answered with a distant roar.
And I kept moving forward.