The moment they pushed me into the Death Jungle, the screams stopped.
Not because I was brave.
Because the jungle swallowed sound.
The gate slammed shut behind me with a final, heavy clang, and just like that, I was erased from the world. No crowd. No guards. No last words. Only thick, suffocating silence and trees so tall they blocked the sky itself.
They didn't exile me.
They executed me.
Something was off with the air. Rotten leaves mingled with iron and with something darker, something charred. The ground was soft beneath my boots, as if it had absorbed too many bodies. With a single step into this place, I felt it creeping up my spine, an awareness so clear, so naked: something was watching me. A thousand invisible eyes.
My heart hammered.
Stories abounded about this place. Everyone knew. The Death Jungle was a final destination for criminals, failures, and unwelcome problems alike. No one came back. Not even bones.
I didn't belong here. That was the cruel joke.
No, I wouldn't be some powerful politician, born with a golden spoon in my mouth or gifted with any individual talent. I was a mere victim, killed off with secret contempt.
Suddenly there was a sound that cut through the air.
Something was moving.
I turned around, the air caught in my throat, eyes searching the shadows. The trees looked like they grew very close, their roots bent like claws woven into the earth. Thick vines hung low like execution ropes, swaying even without wind.
That's when I felt it.
Pain.
Not physical pain. Something deeper. A great weight sitting on my chest, crushing my lungs, and flooding my mind with this irrational fear that overwhelmed me and was not mine.
The jungle was testing me.
My legs had trembled. Sweat streamed down my back. By some strange instinct, I just wanted to run away, to plunge to my knees, and beg before I ever knew what might show pity.
I bit down hard enough to draw blood.
"No," I whispered.
At once, pressure increased as if the jungle had intercepted my silent thoughts and was offended.
My sight blurred. Images danced before my eyes—bones piled like hills, human screams until people literally broke their throats, shadows tearing bodies down into the earth. I staggered forward and almost collapsed.
So this is how it kills you, I thought.
Not with claws. Not with teeth.
With fear.
A growl ripped through the air to my left.
Deep, wet, hungry.
I turned slowly and saw it.
The beast stepped out from behind the trees, its body so wrong it looked like something stitched together by black magic. It had too many joints; skin stretched tightly across muscles that bulged unnaturally; dull crimson light flickered from its eyes and landed on me with a nauseatingly patient hunger.
It did not hurry.
It waited.
A predator did not waste energy on prey already in the throes of demise.
My knees buckled.
I could feel the jungle pushing me down, persuading me to submit, to collapse, to accept death peacefully. My heartbeat was a war drum in my ears. My hands were shaking so much I doubted I would ever be able to close them completely.
I was going to die.
Cold and heavy, that truth knelt now upon me.
And then something cracked inside me.
Not rage. Not bravery.
Refusal.
I could not face dying screaming. I could not stand the idea of disappearing like some rubbish thrown into a pit.
If I was going to die here, it would not be on my knees.
I was straightening my legs against all the constraints.
The rage arose in an unbridled surge. My head was splitting open. Blood ran from my nose. I could feel the darkness creeping up at the edges.
But I was no longer sitting.
The beast tilted its head in mild confusion.
This is where I laughed. Torn and raw, but alive.
"So this is it?" My voice shook. "Is this all you've got?"
The jungle answered.
The pain pierced through the entirety of my body. Every nerve was on fire. My muscles were screaming. Crushing feelings were coming from within, almost as if the bones were crushed. I went down on one knee, gasping, burying my hands in the dirt.
Something inside my chest had shifted.
A heat. Small. Flickering.
I felt it before I could put a name to it.
My will was not crumbling.
It was concentrating.
The pain was no less there, but it changed distribution. Rather than drowning me, the pain had started to flow inward toward the heat, feeding it and sharpening it. My heartbeat paused. My fear lulled.
The beast growled and lunged again.
I barely managed to respond.
I rolled away just as the claws blinded my face from right above. Earth and roots exploded into the air. Half-choking while scrambling upright, my instincts screamed.
I grabbed a fallen branch with a full swing.
It snapped across the skull of the creature.
It shattered. The monster hardly noticed.
Backhand to the ribs.
I went flying, smashed into a tree, and slumped down, vomiting blood. My ribs howled in objection. Each breath felt like shards of glass.
The beast ambled forward slowly and with confidence.
I should have been terrified right now.
Something else was suddenly rising in me.
That heat flared.
My vision brightened. Pressure from the jungle became heavier, but I did not fold. Instead, I pushed. Not with force-but with intent.
I will not accept this.
The ground under my palms cracked.
The beast hesitated.
A boundary in me had come into focus. The feeling of something inside sealed, something experiencing hunger-that slapped to life-drained from me the pain, the fear, the pressure.
Willpower came flooding back into me.
The jungle flinched away.
I stood up again, blood dripping down from my mouth, hands shaking-but steady.
Now the beast growled, more uncertain.
I smiled.
"The weak are killed by this jungle," I whispered. "It, however, picked the wrong man to test first."
The trees around us sounded creaking. The air trembled.
Something so very ancient turned its attention toward me.
And something awoke deep inside my body.
A cold voice rang through my mind. Not words, but understanding.
Stage One... acknowledged.
The beast slashed forward again.
This time, I stepped forward.