The damp chill of the soil and the thorny texture of a great tree's bark surrounded him as a young man opened his eyes and looked around. His whole body screamed in pain, and when his gaze fell to his leg, he saw a small rat gnawing at him. The vile creature had chewed into his calf, and it seemed to relish the taste. The young man quickly reached out, seizing the rat in both hands.
"What the hell is happening?! Where am I?!"
Just then, the rat stiffened in his grip, its fur extending like blades and stabbing into the boy's hands. His palms were shredded, blood splattering everywhere.
"Shit!"
He hurled the rat away, then grabbed a rock nearby and smashed it down on the creature. With a frail cry, the rat breathed its last. Blood dripping from his torn hands, the young man leaned back against the tree and stared at the dead animal in horror.
"What—what is going on?! Where even is this place?"
He glanced at his bleeding hands, tore the white cloth wrapped around his torso in two, and bound his palms tightly.
"Fuck… why am I here?!"
He tried to dig into his memory, but there was nothing. Not a single trace of how he had arrived. With his breathing heavy, he stopped the bleeding as best as he could, then scanned his surroundings.
"I can't have lost my memory."
Pain racked his body. His back burned with two large wounds, their cause unknown, but the agony was unbearable. Gritting his teeth, he endured and slowly pushed himself to his feet.
"I'm not safe here. I need to find shelter."
He cast one last uneasy glance at the dead rat before looking away.
"No rat should be that terrifying…"
Checking his body for gear, he found nothing but a white cloth wrapped around his waist—his only shield from complete nakedness.
"Great… I'm basically naked. This has to be a joke."
He took a cautious step into the dark forest, moving silently, searching for an exit… or signs of civilization.
"I just hope I don't run into wolves or bears. And especially not more freaks like that rat."
With that thought, his steps grew even more wary. The forest was quiet—too quiet—but a suffocating weight pressed down on him, warning him never to relax.
Minutes passed in fearful silence until a sickening sound froze him in place. Flesh tearing. Bones snapping.
"Shit."
He instinctively stepped back, but the dry snap of a twig beneath his foot echoed through the still woods like thunder.
"Now I'm screwed…"
The grotesque feeding stopped. Terror gripping him, he bolted in the opposite direction of the sound.
"Was I always this unlucky? I don't even know!"
His heart pounded violently. Branches thrashed behind him—something was giving chase. The sound drew closer, death itself at his heels. No matter how fast he ran, his human body had limits. He had to decide: fight, or die.
Taking a sharp breath, he veered to the left, but his foot snagged on a rock, sending him crashing to the ground.
By sheer chance, a massive black wolf—two meters long—lunged right over him, missing his throat by inches. Its head slammed against a tree, stunning it briefly.
"Luck!"
Scrambling to his feet, he sprinted in the opposite direction, frantically searching for anything he could use.
"Come on, come on!"
The wolf was already after him, its breath like a storm at his back. That was when he spotted it: a pile of old bones, picked clean.
"Yes!"
He swerved sharply, the wolf skidding past as inertia carried it forward. Throwing himself onto the bone heap, the young man grabbed what resembled a crude spear—an old femur gnawed into a sharp point.
Turning just in time, he saw the beast—jet-black fur, eyes glowing crimson like rubies, saliva dripping from its maw as white foam bubbled at the edges.
He dove with the bone in hand, just as the wolf leapt for him. Too late to stop.
The bone drove deep into its chest, piercing ribs and sinking into its lungs. The wolf shrieked, writhing in agony before collapsing beside him. The hunter had become the hunted.
With great effort, he shoved the carcass off and stared up at the sky—only to see it dyed blood red.
"The sky… it's red?"
His heart thundered, his body drenched in pain. Pressing his hand against his chest, he groaned as blood seeped from his reopened wounds. His strength drained away, forcing his body into unwanted rest.
"What's happening to me?"
Darkness crept in, his eyes closing as more wolves emerged from the brush, drawn by their fallen kin's dying cries. Dozens of them. And yet, before his vision faded entirely, he glimpsed one last figure—a yellow beast among them. Then, silence.
Hours—or perhaps days—later, he finally awoke. With a ragged gasp, he looked up at the sky.
"Did I die? Am I in hell?"
He tried to rise, but pain screamed through every wound, reminding him he was still alive. Suppressing a groan, he pushed himself up and coughed, scanning his surroundings.
Wolf corpses lay everywhere, heads severed from their bodies. But of the yellow monster, there was no trace.
"I take back what I said about my luck."
As he searched, he noticed something beside him: a pair of boots, a shirt, and pants neatly folded, with a note atop them.
Suspicious, he picked it up and read:
"Hello, young sinner. The cursed forest isn't the best place to wander around naked. Think of this as a favor. – Steve"
He let out a sharp breath, crumpled the paper, and tossed it aside before reaching for the clothes. A pair of leather boots, dark trousers, and a black shirt.
"You couldn't leave me a weapon too, Steve?"
Muttering, he stripped off the ragged white cloth and began dressing. That was when he noticed it: a tattoo on his chest. Three jet-black drops swirling together into a spiral.
"At least I've got a tattoo. Guess I must be someone cool, right?"
He smirked faintly to himself, finishing the outfit. The dark clothes contrasted perfectly with his pale skin and black hair, suiting him almost too well.