The last grains of sand were slipping through the hourglass. I adjusted my grip on the Skinner's Knife for what felt like the hundredth time, my palms slick with sweat despite the cave's cool air. The blue crystal's pulsing light made the shadows dance across my crude defenses - tripwires strung with hollowed acorns, sharpened stakes wedged between rocks, bundles of thorns hanging from the ceiling like sinister fruit.
I ran through mental checklists to distract myself:
- Water skins filled and secured near the back wall
- Makeshift bandages torn from what remained of my shirt.
- Emergency torch made from wrapped bark and resin
- Every trap mechanism tested twice
The countdown burned in my vision:
[00:00:15 remaining]
My breath came too fast. I forced myself to take slow, measured gulps of air like Dad had taught me during our camping trips. The memory brought an unexpected ache - his steady hands demonstrating how to tie proper knots, the way he'd chuckle when I got frustrated.
[00:00:05]
A bead of sweat traced down my temple. The knife's leather-wrapped handle creaked under my grip. Somewhere beyond the cave mouth, leaves rustled with unnatural rhythm.
[00:00:01]
Silence.
Then - a dry rattle like pebbles in a tin can. My first tripwire alarm.
The forest exhaled its horrors.
Shadows detached themselves from the tree line - first in pairs, then dozens. Beetle-like creatures the size of dogs, their carapaces glistening under the moonlight. They moved with eerie coordination, surrounding the cave mouth like soldiers preparing a siege.
My pulse hammered in my throat. The crystal's glow intensified, casting sharp blue highlights across the approaching swarm. For a terrifying moment, I was frozen - until the knife's edge caught the light just so, flashing like a lightning strike.
The fear crystallized into something harder.
"Alright you overgrown cockroaches," I whispered, shifting into a fighter's stance. The first line of creatures reached my pit trap. One misstep, two - then a satisfying CRUNCH as spikes found their mark.
The battle for my outpost had begun.
The first beetle-creature tumbled into the pit trap with a satisfying crunch of chitin meeting sharpened bone. Its legs thrashed wildly as black ichor sprayed across the rocks. The scent—like burnt copper and rotting meat—flooded the cave mouth.
For a heartbeat, the swarm hesitated.
Then the forest erupted.
Dozens of carapace-backed horrors surged forward, their too-many legs scrambling over their fallen kin. My second trap—a suspended net of thorned vines—snapped down like a whip. It caught three mid-leap, the barbs punching through their underbellies. They shrieked, a sound like nails on glass, thrashing as the vines constricted.
I didn't have time to celebrate.
A fourth beetle vaulted the pit, its serrated mandibles gnashing. The Skinner's Knife flashed in my grip, guided by instinct. The blade *bit deep*, shearing through an eye cluster. Ichor sprayed my chest plate, sizzling where it hit the cracks.
"One down," I spat, pivoting just as another lunged.
This one got inside my guard. Its claw raked my thigh before I could react—white-hot pain flared, but the armor held. I drove my knee into its thorax, feeling the exoskeleton buckle, then finished it with an overhand stab. The knife hummed, vibrating as if pleased.
The cave entrance became a slaughterhouse.
Beetles came in waves, climbing over their own dead. My traps whittled their numbers—a tripwire sent two crashing into the spiked wall; a carefully balanced boulder crushed another—but they kept coming.
I fought mechanically:
- Dodge the pincer strike
- Slash the leg joints
- Stab through the soft mouth-parts
- Repeat
My arms burned. Breath came in ragged gasps. The crystal's light pulsed faster, casting strobing blue flashes over the carnage.
Then—disaster.
A monstrous clicking echoed from the trees. The beetles parted as something new emerged—a towering, centipede-like horror, its segmented body thicker than my torso. Each leg ended in a hooked claw, and its maw split vertically into four snapping jaws.
[ALERT: SWARM QUEEN DETECTED]
Threat Level: High
The remaining beetles *screeched* in unison, attacking with renewed frenzy. I barely dodged a pincer that would've taken my head off, countering with a wild slash that opened a beetle's gut. The Queen circled, waiting.
I was tiring. Fast.
Then—the crystal flared blindingly bright .
A shockwave of blue energy rippled outward. Beetles *staggered*, their legs locking up as if frozen. The Queen *hissed*, recoiling from the light.
I didn't question it. I charged.
The knife found its mark—a chink in the Queen's armored neck. Black blood fountained as I sawed through sinew and cartilage. Its death throes sent me flying, my back slamming into the cave wall.
Silence.
Gore dripped from the ceiling. My traps were ruins. The knife's edge had dulled to a jagged mess. But the cave—*my outpost*—stood.
[FIRST WAVE REPELLED]
Outpost Security: 100%
Rewards Unlocked: 200 Shards, "Survivor's Resolve" (+10 STR/AGI/CON)
I collapsed against the crystal's pedestal, its light now warm as a hearth. Outside, dawn painted the carnage in pale gold.
I'd survived the night.
But the forest was still watching.