Lennon opened his eyes as if waking from a deep coma.
His chest heaved. The air smelled of dampness and wet leaves.
An immense forest surrounded him – trees too tall, silence too heavy.
Instinctively, his hands went to his wrists.
The chains were gone.
No iron, no weight.
His eyes widened, breath quickening:
"F… Free?" he whispered, disbelief in his voice.
For a moment, he almost felt hope.
But when he tried to rise, something held him.
His feet wouldn't obey.
He looked down – and his heart sank.
Sand. Sand that breathed, that swallowed him with every movement.
A living lake dragging his legs down to the knees, then to the waist.
He thrashed in panic.
"No… no, no!"
The more he fought, the faster he sank.
Panic burned in his throat, the forest seemed to laugh in silence.
Then, his eyes caught something.
Just a few meters away, beyond the sand, on solid ground – the book.
Closed. Untouched.
And at the thought of the note hidden inside, Lennon felt a stab in his chest.
It was his only anchor.
His only proof of identity in that nightmare.
But it was out of reach.
He stretched his hand, fingers trembling in the air, as if sheer will could pull it closer.
Desperation tightened his breath, the sand already climbing to his waist, cold and merciless.
"Please… not now… not the book!"
Nearly out of breath, the sand was rising to his neck, covering his mouth. One second more and he would have been silenced forever.
Suddenly, the impossible happened.
The sand began to drain, as if a colossal invisible vacuum swallowed the entire lake.
The sound was deafening, a cavernous, dry vortex.
His body was freed in an instant. He collapsed to his knees on firm ground, gasping, spitting out dust.
He didn't think twice. Stumbling, almost tripping, he ran straight for the book.
He clutched it so hard his fingers ached.
It was like holding his own soul.
But when he turned to see what had drained the sand – he froze.
From the crater's center, an abominable monster rose.
Its body was that of a colossal bull, muscular, its hide as black as tar.
Six legs dug into the earth, every step shaking the forest.
At the front – two heads.
One bent low, maw wide open, sucking in the last grains of sand as if they were water – disgusting sounds of suction and crackling echoing from it.
The other head lifted, eyes locking on Lennon.
Red, incandescent eyes, unblinking.
From its mouth dripped a thick, boiling saliva, steaming like acid, the air around it shimmering with heat.
Lennon's stomach churned. His heart hammered against his ribs.
There was no more sand to swallow his feet – but now, facing that thing, he almost wished he had sunk completely.
The forest went dead silent, as if even the birds knew this monster meant only one thing: the hunt.
The sound of his own ragged breath drowned everything else.
Lennon ran without looking back, the thunder of heavy hooves pounding closer, splitting the ground.
Then he started screaming like a madman:
"Where am I? Where am I?"
Suddenly, the book in his hands glowed.
A pale, almost divine blue slashed through the darkness of the forest. Its pages opened on their own, spitting words in blazing blue fire before his eyes:
[Location: Eternal Hunt Arena – monsters everywhere. Kill them to survive and collect the essence fruits left behind for your master!]
The truth made his panic worse.
Lennon almost stumbled. His heart dropped into his stomach.
"Hunt Arena… monsters… my master…?"
The words echoed like blades in his mind.
He understood – asking questions made the book answer. So he asked again:
"Then what do I do? I've never fought in my life!"
[Information: there is a sword and equipment for you in the forest. Use them to kill monsters.]
[Your book and note can be fixed into your mind/memory. You only need to decide.]
Lennon had no time to think, no time to breathe.
A roar shattered the silence.
The beast crashed through trees like paper, until it loomed right before him.
"Damn it…" Lennon muttered, his body freezing.
Without another thought, he clutched the book and the note inside, pressed them to his chest, and screamed in his mind to fix them to memory. A shock tore through his skull, like lightning burning his brain.
The beast lunged.
A brutal impact slammed into his side, flinging him like a ragdoll. He flew meters through the air, smashed against three thick trees that cracked with sharp snaps, then crashed onto the root-covered ground.
The world spun.
The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.
His arms and ribs screamed in agony, every breath like a knife in his chest.
Blood from his forehead slid hot down his eye, blurring his vision.
He tried to move, but his muscles failed, trembling.
He panted, staring in disbelief at the monster stomping closer, crushing everything in its path.
"This isn't real… this can't be real… I'm going to die… But… no… I'm already dead…"
Despair burned hotter than pain.
And yet, he knew: here, death didn't exist. Only endless suffering.
The monster paused for a heartbeat, weighing its next step. Still on the ground, Lennon smelled death closing in.
His heart staggered, every muscle shook, every breath a stab.
Suddenly, the sound of wings split the air.
A colossal eagle – larger than any bird he had ever seen – dove straight for him.
Claws closed with brutal force, tearing into his chest and arms.
"Aaaaaahhhhhh!" Lennon's scream shredded his throat with searing pain.
Every bone felt crushed, every rib groaned like old wood, air ripped from his lungs.
The forest shrank beneath him, the ground falling away, spinning like a vivid nightmare.
He was nothing but prey, clamped in merciless talons.
But before he could give in, a swarm of birds larger than crows – hundreds – dive-bombed the eagle.
Beaks and talons ripped flesh, tore feathers, drew blood.
The winged beast fought back, but Lennon's body was flung wildly through the air.
He screamed again, every blow, every cut, every violent jerk tearing at him.
Then came the impossible fall.
Wind whipped against him, and the impact against the ground was brutal.
Ribs shattered, arms snapped, bones cracked like dry branches.
The pain was unbearable – and still, consciousness clung to him.
If this was life, then he died. Or something close to it.
When he opened his eyes again, the forest had changed.
The ground no longer threatened to swallow him, but his body still ached.
He was whole, yet pain throbbed in every muscle.
The chains, the sand, the monster, the eagle… all seemed past now. But the scars of torture still burned in his mind.
In the distance, voices echoed.
Lennon lifted his head slowly.
Three figures fought desperately against a two-headed wolf, jaws snapping, saliva spraying, red eyes locked on humans.
"My God… what is that…?" he whispered, fear rising again.
A few meters ahead, gleaming among roots and leaves, lay a simple but firm sword, buried in the earth.
A plain iron shield, unadorned, utilitarian.
No ornaments, no mystical power – just tools to fight and survive.
A spark of hope flickered, but pain screamed with every step.
"If I don't take that… I'm dead again…" he muttered, voice hoarse.
Struggling, limping, Lennon staggered toward the equipment, heart racing, mind screaming that every second could be his last.