Liam entered the dream again, as he always did, without ceremony. The shift was seamless now, like drifting through a door he no longer needed to open. His feet pressed against damp soil, the thick canopy above swallowing the dim light. The forest was waiting for him—quiet, breathing, alive.
He took a few measured steps, hands sliding into his pockets. He had grown used to this place, but the unpredictability still kept his body taut, ready for anything. That readiness was tested immediately.
Above, a shadow crossed the sky—large wings spread wide. When Liam tilted his head, he saw it. An eagle wreathed in flames, every beat of its wings scattering sparks into the wind. Its screech split the silence as it tucked its body and dived straight for him.
"Shit," Liam muttered, annoyance in his tone rather than fear. "When I finally get the guts to fight properly, this thing just has to ruin it."
Without hesitation, Liam turned and dashed deeper into the forest, weaving between the towering trunks. The ground blurred beneath him, his mana guiding his stride. The heat of the eagle's descent chased him, but something else forced him to stop.
A sound—a low growl.
Liam froze. His eyes narrowed as he saw the wolf. Recognition hit him immediately. This was the same creature that had bitten him on his very first day in this world. Except… no. This one was smaller, less monstrous in appearance, though its presence was no less hostile. Its yellow eyes glowed with malice as it lowered itself and howled, a bone-deep sound that sent the leaves trembling.
Then it charged.
The speed was unnatural, almost insulting the laws of physics. But Liam didn't flinch. His breathing steadied as he summoned mana, wrapping his legs in its faint glow. Dash activated. In a blur, Liam shifted sideways, the wolf's claws slicing air where his body had been.
"Too fast," he muttered, coldly evaluating.
The wolf spun, ready for another strike, but Liam was already gathering mana into his fist. With a sharp movement, he drove his knuckles into the wolf's waist. The impact echoed, the beast tumbling sideways and skidding across the forest floor. It snarled, body disoriented.
Liam didn't waste the opportunity. He closed the distance in an instant, his gaze fixed, his movements precise. He aimed his fist for its throat, intending to end it quickly. But the wolf's jaw opened wide. From its maw, a flurry of condensed wind blades erupted, slicing through the air with a shrill hiss.
Liam twisted his body mid-leap, spinning horizontally. The blades sliced past, close enough to tear through strands of his hair. His eyes remained cold, focused. But his mana—it was fading. He could feel the drain, the emptiness clawing at him.
He landed, breath slightly ragged. There was no time. He poured everything into his fist, his last reserves condensing into one final strike. His body blurred forward, straight toward the wolf.
The beast unleashed more blades, but Liam didn't dodge this time. He knew the truth—if he shifted even slightly, he would lose his momentum. The wind slashed at him, cutting his skin, but he used the dust and debris stirred by the attack as cover. His figure blurred through the chaos, unseen until it was too late.
His fist connected with the wolf's throat. The sound was sharp, a brutal crack. Liam felt the windpipe shatter under his knuckles. The wolf gagged, choking on its own breath. But even as it faltered, its claws lashed out desperately, sinking into Liam's waist.
The pain was immediate, deep. Blood rushed from the wound, warm against his skin. Liam's lips tightened, but he didn't scream. He simply exhaled, cold eyes watching as the wolf's body collapsed. Its last breath left its throat in a wheeze.
But victory didn't matter.
Liam's body swayed, strength draining. His vision dimmed. Notifications, messages, fragments of glowing text filled the edges of his sight, but he couldn't read them. His knees buckled, the ground rose to meet him, and everything slipped into silence.
---
Far away, in another place entirely, the world's leaders had gathered. Presidents, prime ministers, rulers of nations—all seated in the grand meeting chamber. The atmosphere was heavy. No laughter, no idle chatter. Only grim faces, their expressions reflecting unease and tension.
They waited.
The tall doors of the chamber opened, and a man walked in. At first glance, he seemed ordinary—average in height, plain in build, nothing remarkable in his features. But the aura around him was suffocating. His presence bent the room, pressed against the lungs of everyone inside. They shifted uncomfortably in their seats, like prey forced to acknowledge a predator.
The man walked to the center of the room, unhurried, and took the chair placed at the head of the table. He sat, elbows resting on the polished wood, and let his gaze sweep across the trembling leaders.
His eyes narrowed.
"So," he began, voice low, carrying through the hall without effort. "You couldn't even handle one task properly."
Not a single reply came. Some lowered their eyes. Others clenched their fists beneath the table.
The man continued, tone sharpening. "And now, because of your incompetence, we have a mutant running loose."
He lifted a folder from the table, sliding it open with one hand. Inside was a single picture—Liam's face. Cold, distant, caught mid-expression, as if he were nothing more than a file in someone's drawer.
The man stared at it for a moment before his lips curved in distaste. He let the photo fall back to the desk, his hand tapping once against the wood.
"I'll say this only once," he said, leaning forward slightly. "Find it. Eradicate it. Before it becomes something you can't control."
The silence thickened. No one dared to breathe too loudly.
The man's eyes sharpened further, disgust flickering across his face. "You creatures are always the same. Pathetic. Annoying."
He pushed the file away, dismissing it with a flick of his wrist. To him, Liam wasn't a boy fighting for survival. He wasn't someone coldly enduring each night in a strange world. He was just another problem. Another threat to erase.
And the world's leaders—fearful and obedient—nodded