The wall burst inward.
Splinters flew. The beast forced itself through the wreckage, its body radiating waves of suffocating heat. Fire hissed where drool struck the floorboards. Those eyes—hungry, molten—locked on him.
John scrambled back, hand brushing the sword on the wall. He seized it.
The hilt pulsed, alive in his grip. Heat coursed into his veins.
He swung.
Steel screeched against burning hide and glanced off.
The beast roared.
It lunged. John dove. Teeth snapped past his ear, hot saliva searing his cheek. He rolled, staggered up, and ran.
Down the hall. Into the kitchen. Over the table. The monster shattered it behind him.
He burst into the yard, lungs on fire.
But it was faster.
Claws raked across the shed as he darted past. A swipe tore into his side, blood soaking his shirt. Pain seared through him.
"Move. Survive."
He ran. Down the alley. Past trash cans that exploded behind him as the monster barreled through. Fire spilled from its jaws. Every step was survival by inches.
Then he fell.
Gravel bit his palms. He turned. The beast crouched, muscles coiled.
It leapt.
John planted his feet, sword raised.
The blade met flesh.
The monster's weight drove it down onto Eclipse Fang. A shriek ripped through the alley as black ichor sprayed. Fire burst from its cracking hide.
It collapsed into ash.
John staggered, gasping. His arms shook so hard he nearly dropped the sword.
From the ash, two objects fell. A faintly glowing vial. A leather pouch marked with shifting silver.
—[Item Appraisal]—
Basic Healing Potion — mends wounds.
Bag of Holding (Minor) — bound pouch, holds up to five items.
His hands trembled as he uncorked the vial. The liquid burned, but his wounds began to knit shut. Clarity returned.
The pouch was clipped to his belt. The sword remained in his grip. He stumbled into a forgotten shed, shut the door, and sank to the floor.
Silence.
His reflection stared back at him in the blade. Dark hair matted with sweat. Green eyes wild. His face streaked with blood and dirt. A stranger.
The dream hadn't been a dream. The worlds were merging. A system was watching.
He should have been paralyzed by fear. And part of him was.
But beneath it, something stirred.
Excitement.
He let out a shaky laugh. "Fire possum. I killed it."
The vial. The pouch. The sword. Proof.
The world outside was burning. But monsters left rewards.
For the first time since it began, John wasn't just afraid.
He was curious. Hungry.
And ready to see what came next.