First things first—I need food.
He peered down.
Wet grass and thick berry shrubs dotted the ground far below. He glanced at his fingers.
When he extended them, each claw slid out by half an inch.
Guided more by instinct than skill, Qiren climbed down the redwood. His claws carved shallow footholds—tiny trench-marks—into the bark. He moved slowly, resting on wide branches whenever his stamina dipped or when he needed to plot his next descent. Bit by bit, he worked his way down.
I made it.
He landed on damp soil with a soft thud, joy bubbling in his chest.
He stepped away from the trunk cautiously—eyes wide, ears twitching, listening to every rustle in the forest.
His stomach growled loudly.
That drew him toward a strange bush with large three-ringed–spotted berries—tomato-sized blue fruits clustered in groups of three on diverging stems. The shrub itself was covered in sharp, barbed green leaves.
If he'd still been human, he might not have touched it.
But as he neared the bush, his hunger spiked sharply.
The scent drifting from the berries was rich and tempting. His eyes brightened as he pulled one loose.
He hesitated—then bit down cautiously.
Qiren didn't take a full bite, only a small nibble to test for toxins. The blood-red lining inside the berry nearly made him drop it, but he chewed slowly, waiting for any warning signs: numbness, dryness, burning, or the metallic taste of poison.
…Nothing.
Only mild sweetness.
Mmm. It's actually good.
His neck split further as he took another bite, switching to his second mouth—the only one capable of swallowing.
Saliva dripped down his throat. His body craved more nourishment after just a taste.
"It's… safe to eat…" he muttered, eyes gleaming with sudden hunger.
He tore off another piece—this time a full mouthful.
Then another.
And another.
Qiren plundered the shrub entirely—munch, munch, munch—devouring the blood-red blue berries in four large bites. He grabbed one, chewed it down, snatched another, until his neck and chest were stained red with juice.
Then—
Rustle.
He froze.
Movement.
His eyes narrowed, instincts sharpening. He slid into the berry bush, tucking his head low beneath the leaves.
Through the gaps, he saw them:
Two small humanoid demons—both pale quartz like him, both clearly infants.
One sprinted clumsily through the underbrush, thin legs ending in hooves, his frail body trembling with fear.
The other chased after him, sturdier but just as small, an ox-like tail swaying behind him and two budding horn-nubs poking from his skull.
They were running straight toward Qiren's hiding place.
Qiren held his breath as they burst into view—the hoofed one scrambling and stumbling,
the ox-tailed one snarling in a childish, broken roar.
They crashed into each other, clawing wildly.
Tiny fangs snapped.
Hooves kicked.
The ox-tailed infant slammed the other into a tree. The hoofed demon retaliated with a desperate slash across the other's cheek.
They weren't playing.
They were trying to kill each other.
Qiren's eyes widened.
Infants… killing infants?
Before he could process it—
SHRRRRAK—!
A shadow split the air.
A vulture-like demon bird—massive, skeletal wings of blackened bone stretched with membrane—dove at impossible speed.
Its hooked beak clamped around the ox-tailed demon.
A second vulture swooped down, talons piercing the back of the hoofed demon, lifting him clean off the forest floor.
Both infants shrieked—
Then the birds let go.
CRACK!!
THUD!!
Two bodies slammed into the ground, necks twisting at impossible angles, limbs splayed unnaturally.
They didn't move.
Silence hung for a heartbeat.
Then—
rustle… rustle…
More movement.
Qiren sank lower into the bush.
A small cluster of pale infants—five? six? maybe more—peeked out from the trees. They froze at the sight of the corpses.
One beat later, panic tore through them—
They ran.
The vultures shrieked triumphantly and launched after them, snapping branches as they vanished deeper into the woods.
Qiren remained perfectly still.
Then… the impossible happened.
The corpse nearest him twitched.
Its broken limbs scraped the ground.
Its chest caved inward—then inflated again.
The infant demon rose, neck still twisted grotesquely, head hanging sideways.
It staggered toward the second corpse.
Qiren's stomach tightened.
The dead child lifted its fists and began smashing the other demon's skull—
again and again—
wet crunches echoing through the clearing.
CRAK.
CRAKK.
CRRK—
The skull split open.
A pale, trembling orb of light drifted free, wrapped in faint mist—a tiny curled silhouette visible inside.
A soul.
The risen corpse leaned forward and swallowed it whole.
Qiren clamped a hand over his mouth.
The undead infant—its eyes dull and empty—fell over the corpse and tore at the abdomen, clawing through flesh.
It pulled out two teardrop-shaped crystals—
one glowing crimson, the other cold and black.
A Spirit Core and a Daoist Aperture.
The tiny creature clutched them to its chest, trembling—almost panicked, as if it knew it shouldn't have them.
But before it could flee—
FWOOOSH—!!
A vulture slammed down onto it.
Talons tore through its back.
The bird seized the demon-child and flapped upward—
toward the towering redwood Qiren had climbed down from.
It vanished inside the hollow he had sheltered in during the storm.
Qiren's blood ran cold.
More birds descended from the misty canopy.
They landed on distant branches, dragging limp demon infants in their talons. Some were still alive, wriggling weakly.
One by one, the birds carried their prey into the redwood's various hollows—
like a hive filled with feeding chambers.
Qiren heard it—
the screams.
High-pitched.
Raw.
Pitiful.
The kind only children made.
They echoed from deep within the tree as the vultures tore into the demon infants alive.
Crunching.
Slurping.
Wet choking sobs.
Qiren's tiny body trembled uncontrollably.
These weren't ordinary predators.
This was a breeding ground.
A harvesting site.
And he had slept through the storm in the middle of it.
He swallowed hard, eyes locked on the redwood and the endless cycle of infants being dragged inside.