But as they say, not everything goes according to plan. Just as Ryoushi settled in to watch the unconscious Iguanodon, a sound cut through the air that froze his blood.
The shrill cries of raptors.
"Shit," he hissed, springing into action. Without hesitation, he opened his inventory and selected the stack of wooden doors he had crafted earlier.
One by one, he placed them around the perimeter of the trap, sealing the Iguanodon in with thick barriers. It wasn't perfect, but it would buy time.
Outside, a dodo shrieked in terror before its cry was cut short. Hyena-like cackles followed. The raptors were close. Too close.
"Damn it, why now?" Ryoushi muttered under his breath, slamming another door into place.
Thankfully, his inventory wasn't limited like the standard Ark's weight-based system. It was bottomless, timeless. Items never spoiled inside—meat, berries, even crafted goods.
With the last door secured, he bolted out of the structure, pulling it shut behind him. Quickly, he dismantled the ramps using his built-in system function, the wood and thatch vanishing into his inventory with no waste. Efficiency at its best.
The Iguanodon was now 90% safe. The other 10%? That was on him.
The cries grew louder. Ryoushi ran.
It didn't take long for the raptors to spot him, their guttural screeches splitting the air as three of them charged.
"Oh, hell no!" Ryoushi cursed, sprinting toward the treeline. His pulse hammered in his ears as fast as his boots pounded the ground. Thank god he had invested points into movement speed these last few days, but still—the raptors were fast.
He felt the hot rush of air as one lunged. At the last second, Ryoushi hurled himself upward, grabbing a thick branch and pulling himself high.
The raptor slammed headfirst into the tree trunk where he'd been a heartbeat before. Snarling, it clawed at the bark as Ryoushi scrambled higher, muscles screaming with the effort until he reached a perch well out of their immediate reach.
Panting, he glanced down. Three of them, circling below. Their eyes gleamed with hunger, their heads twitching sharply, tails lashing. They knew he was food.
Ryoushi sighed, steadying his breath. He pulled his crossbow out, checking its durability. Not good—only a handful of shots left. His meager metal supply over the past few days had left him with no backup weapon.
"Gotta save this for when it counts," he muttered, sliding it back. Instead, he summoned a wooden spear from his inventory, gripping it tightly. Low-level raptors. He could handle this with a few throws if his aim was true.
He shifted, trying to find a clear angle—but the branches around him blocked his movements. Frustration bubbled up. He growled under his breath, sheathed the spear, and instead drew a sickle.
If the branches were in the way, he'd just clear them.
One by one, he hacked away at the wood, tossing the cut branches into his inventory for later use. He was so focused on clearing space for a clean throw that he didn't notice the subtle change in the forest's sounds.
The birds had gone silent. Even the raptors stopped their constant cackling, heads jerking upward, ears twitching.
Ryoushi suddenly felt a crawling sensation up his spine. A sound followed—a sharp, droning buzz that froze him more than the roar of any T-Rex could.
'No. Not them.'
He turned slowly, dread gnawing at his gut, only to lock eyes with a swarm of Titan Ant soldiers, their jagged mandibles clicking in hungry rhythm.
"What the—?!" His voice cracked. Instinctively, he stumbled backward—only to realize too late there was nothing behind him. His foot slipped, and his body dropped, gravity pulling him down toward the waiting jaws of the raptors below.
At the last desperate second, his hand snatched a low branch jutting out of the trunk. His shoulder screamed as his body jerked to a halt, hanging just meters above the ground.
But his relief was short-lived. The raptors were strangely quiet now. And then he understood why.
The entire tree began to tremble, not from the raptors clawing at its base, but from something else—something colossal rising from the earth beneath.
The ground split apart. A massive, azure wing cleaved through the air with a whistle like slicing steel. The jungle seemed to quake as a gigantic form dragged itself upward, soil cascading off its armored carapace. Ryoushi's eyes widened in disbelief.
"A… Rhyniognatha?!"
The gargantuan insect emerged in full, blue-hued chitin glistening as it towered over the battlefield. The sheer force of its movement cracked the ground and toppled the very tree Ryoushi clung to. With a splintering groan, it gave way.
He fell. The tree crashed beside him, crushing one of the raptors under its bulk. Ryoushi, by some stroke of luck, landed clear of the falling trunk—but luck ran thin fast.
The two remaining raptors wasted no time. They pounced.
Ryoushi grabbed his wooden spear and braced himself. The first raptor lunged, and he drove the spear forward, the tip biting into its hide. Blood sprayed, and the beast shrieked, but the wound wasn't deep enough.
He tried to force the shaft deeper, but the second raptor came from the side, snapping its jaws. He twisted at the last moment, narrowly avoiding its teeth.
Then the bite came. Not from the raptors. From below.
Pain lanced through his leg, sharp and burning. He didn't even need to look. He knew that sensation too well. Titan Ants. Their soldier's venom pumping into his veins. The very creatures he hated, feared, and had nightmares about.
"No—Not now!" he snarled, shoving his weight into the spear. The first raptor screamed in agony as the point pierced deeper. But victory was a fleeting dream. The second raptor lunged again, faster this time, and crashed into him.
Ryoushi hit the ground hard. Claws dug into his chest. Then, with a sickening crunch, the raptor's jaws clamped around his head. One brutal twist.
His neck snapped.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
But death was not the end.
As his vision faded in one world, his eyes fluttered open in another. He gasped, sucking in a sharp breath, sitting bolt upright on a standard mattress. The scent of fresh linen filled his nose—not damp wood or rotting foliage. White walls surrounded him, modern and clean.
A bedroom. His real bedroom.
Ryoushi ran a hand through his hair, sweat dripping down his face as the phantom memory of raptor teeth lingered. He let out a long, heavy sigh.
"Haah… died again," he muttered. The Ark world was gone, and he was back in reality. Again.
***
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