Lennon gave a dry smile.
"These bastards… they even put a timer here. They want us to live by their time, as if this were Earth."
He thought about the imposed rules: every week, the adapted had to offer ten essence fruits to the demons.
A forced pact, almost like an invisible collar. Lennon spat to the side, full of disdain.
But he couldn't get lost in those thoughts. He needed monsters. He needed materials for the rituals.
Carefully, he moved from trunk to trunk, climbing and descending with agility, sword steady in hand, avoiding the muddy sea as much as possible.
His heart pounded in his chest, every creak of a branch seemed to announce his presence.
He knew well: noise attracted unwanted guests.
Then he heard it.
A crash. Guttural screams. The dry crack of bones breaking.
Lennon froze, pressed himself against the trunk, eyes scanning the darkness below.
In the sea of the forest, two misshapen monsters clashed. Claws tore the mud like blades, jaws full of fangs locked onto each other, spitting thick blood.
The impact shook the roots of the trees.
They had membranous wings adapted to land on the muddy sea, looking like a mix between bat and stingray. Lennon knew immediately – they were Black-Mud Bats.
He felt a spark of satisfaction. Two of them already. They were about the height of a short human, around 160 cm.
Lennon tightened his grip on the sword, breathing short.
"They're already worn down from fighting each other. If I play it right… I can take both at once."
Without a second thought, Lennon leapt from above. His body tore through the air and crashed straight into the mud, spraying sludge like an explosion.
The monsters turned instantly, deformed eyes burning with fury, but it was too late: Lennon lunged with his sword raised, the blade grazing the first one's shoulder, spilling blood black as tar.
The second monster roared, opening a mouth far too wide for a normal skull, and charged. Lennon spun in the sludge, using the mud's weight as momentum, and his blade cut through the air, tearing part of the creature's jaw.
The fight became brutal chaos.
Razor claws shredded the ground, the mud sucked at their feet, every move a desperate struggle. Lennon felt his shoulder burn as a claw broke through his guard, but he didn't retreat. He pressed forward, with a savage cry:
"COME ON, THEN, BASTARDS!"
The clash of bodies echoed through the swamp, mud, blood, and flesh spraying in a hellish dance.
Panting, Lennon leaned against the thick trunk of a tree, his body drenched in sweat and dried mud.
In his hands, he carefully held the two black vocal cords of the bats he had slaughtered. Fragile as silk, yet pulsing with the arena's strange energy.
At his side lay two freshly harvested essence fruits. Their glow was intense, different from the common ones – proof of their higher utility. Lennon rolled them between his fingers, almost laughing at the irony:
"How unfair… I only need to deliver five. Mine are the highest quality among all the prisoners."
He lifted the first fruit to his mouth and bit without hesitation. The taste was both sweet and bitter, like honey mixed with iron. He swallowed in heavy gulps, then did the same with the second.
The system echoed inside him like hammer strikes:
[Strength: +2]
[Endurance: +2]
[Perception: +2]
His body reacted. An electric shock ran through his nerves, his heart raced, but he was used to it now.
No more violent convulsions like the first time; only a tremor that soon turned into vigor.
Lennon clenched his fists, breathing deep. His body burned from within, but every fiber felt tighter, sharper.
Revitalized, he wiped the blood from his face and drew his sword again, eyes fixed on the shadows of the forest's muddy sea.
"There's still more… and I'll take every last piece I need."
Then, he descended from the tree and returned to the hunt, his eyes sharp as blades.
Lennon moved through the forest like a shadow.
His breathing was measured, his gaze cutting. Each step calculated not to snap twigs or splash too much mud. He no longer seemed like just a prisoner trying to survive – he was beginning to mold himself into a true predator.
The Black-Mud Bats, once a threat in the dark, were now just raw meat for his blade, like other weak monsters he came across.
A few clean, swift strikes, and the creatures collapsed into the sludge with slit throats. Lennon no longer afforded himself hesitation: kill, collect, move on.
Strong, dangerous monsters, he avoided or circled around. Thanks to his knowledge, things were in his favor.
But the Shrill Amphibians… nothing.
Treacherous creatures, half toad, half owl, with huge nervous eyes and a keen sense that let them detect the slightest vibration. Lennon knew hunting them would be different. They wouldn't come to him; he would have to dive into their terrain.
Exhausted, he rested against the exposed root of a colossal tree, his body throbbing from strain. He pulled two essence fruits from his mind, rolled them in his hand, and devoured them one by one. The acidic taste burned his mouth, but the energy flooding his body was worth it.
The system echoed once again inside his mind:
[Synergy detected: Frequent consumption of High-Quality Essence Fruits.]
[Overflow Effect: +10 to all additional attributes.]
[Strength: +10]
[Agility: +10]
[Perception: +10]
He closed his eyes, absorbing the surge, feeling his muscles more elastic, his reflexes sharper.
Lennon smiled, satisfied with what he saw, then his status window appeared:
[Name: Lennon Park]
[Origin: Human]
[Path of Transcendence: Demonic – 2%/100%]
[Class:—]
[Title:—]
[Strength: 43]
[Speed: 23]
[Endurance: 43]
[Vital Force: 30]
[Perception: 200]
[Earth Popularity: 80%]
[Latent Ability Unlocked: 1/10
– Awakening of Knowledge.]
Lennon noticed not only the increase in attributes but the appearance of new ones: speed and vital force. He was pleased, and the status window vanished.
The stench of blood and mud filled his nostrils.
Fear was still there, a bitter taste in his mouth, but now it was overshadowed by another feeling, more primal and addictive: the euphoria of the hunt. With every monster he brought down, a piece of the pop idol he once was faded, and something darker, sharper, was born in its place.
During his hunts, he had already gathered more fruits than he expected, even putting seven aside for delivery day. His growth was absurd, something that both satisfied and made him cautious – he couldn't draw attention to himself before the wardens or the other prisoners.
Two days. Two days in that endless jungle, where it never truly dawned or darkened. Only the same suffocating brightness, as if the sky mocked those trapped below.
Lennon spat on the ground, tightening his grip on the sword.
"Two days… and still nothing. Damn Shrill ones. You won't get away from me!"
The forest replied with a deep, wet croak, not coming from one direction but from everywhere at once, as if the very brightness was laughing at him. Lennon's eyes widened. He wasn't hunting.
He was being surrounded.