The first sensation Thorn felt was the warmth of sunlight filtering through leaves, dappling across his face. The second was the gentle sway beneath him, like being rocked on the surface of a calm lake. Slowly, his senses stirred, each one sharpening as if thawing from a deep, dreamless slumber. When his eyes opened, he found himself lying on a wide wooden surface, uneven yet strangely stable.
A massive branch.
He blinked rapidly, sitting up, instinctively reaching for the nearest point of balance. The branch was thick enough that ten men could have stood abreast upon it. Around him stretched a canopy of vibrant green, ancient and pristine, untouched by steel or smoke. Shafts of golden light pierced through gaps in the leaves, scattering across a lush forest floor far below.
He rose quickly, his movements fluid, honed by countless lifetimes of instinctual battle and survival. His boots pressed into the moss-covered bark. He turned slowly, scanning the area. There was no familiar skyline, no artificial sound of cities, no hint of human structures. Only the distant calls of strange birds and the rustle of wind through the trees.
His breath was steady, but inside, memories stirred — fragments of a much older time.
The unified being. Its final words before they had all separated, before the world had shifted and scattered them each to a different place. The echoes of that farewell resonated still, not as sound, but as feeling. A reminder of purpose.
He placed a hand over his chest. He was no longer "Thorn" as merely an elemental fragment; he was Thorn now as an individual, given a chance to shape a path of his own.
The ground trembled.
At first, it was a subtle quiver, but then the branch beneath his feet began to shudder violently. Birds exploded from the treetops in alarm. Thorn instantly dropped into a crouch, his reflexes snapping into action. He scanned the surroundings, his sharp eyes catching the rippling motion across the canopy.
Something was moving. Something enormous.
Without hesitation, Thorn leapt off the branch and grabbed hold of a lower one, his body moving with the practiced grace of a predator in its natural environment. He quickly descended until he was low enough to blend into the shadows of the undergrowth. His instincts urged caution. His hands pressed against the soil, trigger the Jungle power inside him, and from his palms, tiny root tendrils spread rapidly into the ground like veins.
The sensation was immediate.
The forest spoke to him.
Through the roots, through the intricate network of nature's pulse, he felt the shape of what lay beneath. What he had assumed was solid ground was not ground at all. It was moving. Breathing. Alive.
Realization struck him.
He wasn't standing in a forest. He was standing on the back of a creature — a colossal deer.
The trees around him were not random vegetation but part of its majestic antlers, which had grown massive and intertwined with living greenery over centuries. He looked toward the horizon and saw, between the trees, the curve of a massive shoulder rising and falling like waves.
The tremor came again, stronger this time. A bellowing roar echoed through the forest, reverberating in his bones. He turned toward the sound and caught sight of the source.
On the ground below, in a clearing carved through fallen trees, the giant deer was engaged in a brutal battle with another beast. It was unlike anything Thorn had ever seen — a monstrous hybrid between a T-Rex and a mammoth. Its body was bulky and muscular, covered in thick hide, while two curved tusks jutted from its mouth beneath rows of serrated teeth. A long tail, ending in a club-like bone mass, swung through the air, shattering tree trunks like twigs.
The two titans clashed with earth-shaking force. Antlers against tusks. Hooves against claws. Every impact sent shockwaves through the forest. Thorn clung to the bark to keep his footing, his mind racing.
No humans. No settlements. No signs of civilization. Either humanity had not yet risen in this world, or it had been erased long ago by beings like these.
The deer let out a guttural cry as the Moth-Rex raked its claws across its flank, tearing through flesh. Dark blood splattered the ground, steaming. Thorn narrowed his eyes. He could feel the pain radiating through the roots.
His decision was instinctual.
The roots beneath his feet expanded like a living web, racing toward the battlefield. He whispered softly — words that no human tongue could fully comprehend, the language of growth and wilderness, something old as the first sprouting seed.
The ground erupted.
Massive vines shot up like serpents, coiling around the Moth-Rex's limbs. Thick as tree trunks, they twisted and constricted, forcing the creature backward. It roared in fury, thrashing against the living bonds, but Thorn's power flowed freely, and the jungle obeyed his will.
The deer took the opportunity to stagger away, breathing heavily. Thorn stepped out from the shadows, standing on a branch that overlooked the battlefield. His gaze was sharp and calm.
"This world…" he murmured to himself. "It's chaos. Wild. Unclaimed."
He clenched his fist. The memory of the unified being's last wish echoed clearly.
"Then I will bring unity to it."
From that moment, he cast away the old name.
"Heim," he whispered. "From now on… my name is Heim."
With a decisive motion, he tightened the vines. The Moth-Rex gave one last, furious roar before the living jungle crushed its bones and silenced it forever.
The battle ended as quickly as it began.
Heim released the vines, letting the remains of the creature slump to the ground. The deer, wounded but alive, turned its great head toward the forest canopy as if acknowledging his presence. Then, with slow, lumbering steps, it disappeared into the endless green.
Heim descended from the deer's back, following the natural flow of the forest floor. He didn't know where he was going yet, but he trusted the instincts that had guided him across countless worlds.
Hours passed. The forest remained untamed and vast, filled with the cries of unseen beasts and the rustle of hidden predators. He walked without hurry, his senses constantly scanning for signs of anything unusual.
Then, something did fall from the sky.
It wasn't a leaf. It wasn't a branch. It was a person.
The impact knocked him off his feet, leaves and dirt scattering everywhere. He grunted and quickly rolled to his feet, ready to fight. What he saw made him pause.
A girl.
She had long green hair tied loosely behind her head, clothes that seemed more suited to another place, another world. Her aura — it pulsed with a strange familiarity. Like him, she carried the breath of nature.
She blinked in confusion, rubbing her head. "Ah— I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to fall on you! I was… I was brought here, I think. By something."
Heim tilted his head, studying her carefully. She looked both bewildered and strong, like a wildflower caught in a storm but refusing to break.
"My name's Flora," she added quickly. She didn't elaborate further.
He could feel it — something about her wasn't ordinary. Perhaps fate had thrown them together for a reason.
"Flora," he repeated slowly. "I am Heim."
She smiled nervously. "Nice to meet you, Heim."
He considered briefly, then said, "Come with me. The path ahead will be… interesting."
Her eyes lit up slightly. "Alright."
They began walking together, the forest swallowing their figures among the trees.
It wasn't long before danger found them again.
The undergrowth rustled. A growl echoed through the trees — low, menacing.
From the shadows emerged a creature with three heads — one fox, one wolf, and one dog — all sharing a single muscular body. Its eyes gleamed with predatory hunger, saliva dripping from three sets of fangs.
It lunged.
Flora reacted swiftly, summoning thorned vines from the ground, wrapping around one of its legs. Heim moved with equal precision, his own jungle power surging like a living storm. In moments, the creature was overwhelmed.
He glanced sideways during the brief lull. She was using plant power too. The similarity struck him. There was more to her than chance.
Before he could ask, the air shifted again.
They were surrounded.
From between the trees emerged a group of eight or nine individuals, each towering and broad-shouldered, their bodies wrapped in furs and primitive armor made of bones and hide. Their faces were painted with tribal markings, their eyes wary and aggressive. They moved with the confidence of hunters.
Ancient barbarians.
They shouted words in a guttural, unfamiliar language. Heim understood none of it, nor did Flora.
Then one of them raised a crude axe and roared.
The attack began.