(Pov - Matthew Rivers)
I never thought I'd die in a forest, and even now, I hope it won't happen.
Always figured it'd be back in the neighborhood—wrong place, wrong time kinda deal. Maybe caught in a drive-by meant for someone else, or in a corner store during a robbery gone wrong. That's how it goes for too many of us.
Not that I was planning on checking out early, but a man's gotta be realistic.
But this? Running after some psycho white girl with a flaming bow while following two other dudes who look like they walked straight outta medieval fantasy? This ain't reality. At least, it wasn't four days ago.
"Sorry, did I get the pronunciation wrong?"
The thing in front of me asks. My head feels light...did he just say what I think he said? Are my ears fucked up?
My lungs are on fire. Karl and John are somewhere in front of me. Part of me thinks I should keep going, keep helping them hunt her down. But I can't. Not just 'cause my body's giving out.
I get it though... well, not really, since I didn't lose a brother, but still. Watching a man cave a girl's skull in? Nah. I got enough nightmares already.
Fuck, I feel lightheaded. Gotta focus on what's in front of me. The monster? Did he fucking call me homie?
The words come unbidden -
"You… speak English…"
I barely manage to wheeze out, lungs burning, legs shaking, and my whole body screaming at me for stopping. It says much about the situation that I don't even feel dumb saying it.
I probably should've just kept running, but my feet had planted themselves in the ground before I could even think.
And now I'm standing in front of… this.
Three meters tall.
Blackened bone plates covering his whole body like armor, smoke still rising from his charred flesh. I can see the burned muscle underneath, twitching like something alive.
And his head.
A wolf skull.
A real-ass bone helmet, fused with his face, leaving only the faintest hint of eyes behind the hollow sockets. Deep within those empty sockets, I can just make out a pair of eyes, completely dark—whether from shadow or something else, I can't tell.
Like staring into an abyss that somehow stares back.
This ain't a man.
But my Empathy says he isn't a monster, either.
I don't feel hatred.
No rage, no murderous intent.
Just… nothing.
Neutral. Like a rock. Like a ghost of a person standing before me, wearing a body that ain't even his anymore.
Which is somehow more terrifying than anything else.
And then—
"No shit."
His voice comes out distorted, raw, like someone talking through broken speakers.
"What did you expect? Latin? Sanskrit? The ancient tongue of the elder gods?"
I blink.
Then I laugh.
I don't even mean to, but the sheer sass coming out of this horror movie reject just… breaks something in me.
I've had nightmares about this guy.
"Just making sure, man." I straighten up, trying to look casual while standing in front of a nightmare. "You're Carter, right? From the bar?"
Was that his name? I remember the guy from day one—the quiet dude who kept to himself at the bar before all this shit went down. The guy who killed the first goblin.
I could swear bro died.
Except, you know, that's apparently Carter. He looks different now. Real different. Gotta believe it's him, or I'm fucked either way.
He tilts his head—or rather, the wolf skull helmet tilts. "And you're...?"
"Matthew. Matthew Rivers." I pause, not sure if I should offer my hand to shake.
I decide against it.
"I was at the corner table when all this went down."
"Mmm." The sound resonates from somewhere inside that bone armor. "Well, my visual memory is quite shitty usually so I can't say I recognize you. Alas, mind explaining why you and your buddies were chasing that girl?"
His tone is polite. Like he didn't just see a whole-ass war scene play out. Like we're just shooting the shit and not standing in the middle of a goddamn burnt clearing where people were trying to murder each other.
If the whole Hannibal thing didn't ring any alarm bells, this certainly fucking would.
I swallow, trying to calm my breath.
I glance toward the trees where Karl and the others disappeared.
I still hear nothing.
No screams.
No fighting.
Maybe it's over already. Maybe Karl got her. Maybe she got away.
Either way, I sigh. It's not like it's a secret.
"It's Karl. You know, the spear guy. His brother died on the first day. She was involved. That's it."
No rage in my voice.
Because I don't feel any.
"Oh, she started the fire? I heard it was on accident though. Something about her being... attacked and defending herself," Carter says in a mild voice, as if speaking about the weather.
I shift my weight, suddenly uncomfortable, but at least him knowing this is one more point for him being human.
"I don't know the whole story, man. You gotta ask him personally. I've been very, very, very drunk when that shit went down." Honestly I don't even know how I survived. "But Karl's been obsessed with finding her ever since."
He hums in agreement.
"And you?" he asks.
I look at him.
He doesn't blink. Probably fucking can't, like what the fuck even is this.
The twin suns beat down through the canopy, casting double shadows that make everything look wrong somehow. Makes him look even more unnatural.
Holy shit, I got distracted. What was even the question!?
"M-Me?"
"Yeah, bro, you. Are you obsessed too?"
Ah... that.
I shrug. "I just… I don't got beef with her. But I got bigger beef with being alone in a damn death forest..." I trail off, not sure how to explain myself without sounding like an amoral bastard. "... Karl and John are the only allies I got out here. Can't exactly survive on my own." ...but that would just be lying, no?
He makes a humming sound, tilting his wolf skull like he's thinking.
"Smart choice," he finally says. "If you're weak, stay with the strong. That's how you survive."
His words should feel cold.
But they don't.
They just feel… factual.
"But you stopped following them. Is that all right?" He asks and for a moment I stay silent.
"Yeah." I look down at my hands. "I don't want to see what happens when they catch her," I say firmly, mostly for myself.
Carter makes a sound that might be a laugh, a hollow rattle that echoes from within the skull helmet.
"Noble of you."
"Nothing noble about it. Just don't want those kinda images in my head." I look up at him. "What about you? What've you been doing out here? Oh, and sorry for running away from you back then..."
"Don't worry about it, and surviving, mostly." He gestures to his body. "Adapting."
"Is that what this is?" I wave my hand at his whole... situation. "Some kind of adaptation?"
"Fleshcrafting," he says, like that explains everything. "My skill. It does what it says, moving flesh and stuff. This whole thing on me is just an armor I made out of wolf bones."
I feel like gaping. You call that just some armor? Holy fuck, I can see the helmet embedded in his fucking head. Still... Better than the alternative.
"So you're actually human under all that?"
"More or less."
I'm not sure what "less" means in this context, but I don't push it.
Carter stays silent for a moment, then hums.
"And you?" he asks. "What have you been doing these past few days?"
I blink.
Are we doing small talk? We definitely are. That's good, no?
… Might as well answer.
"I've been acting as a scout for my group. My Farsight skill lets me see things from a distance, and..."
Should I reveal that? It's not mind control or anything so it should be fine...
"My Empathy lets me get a read on people..."
His posture doesn't change, but I feel like he's more interested now. That's good, right? I still don't feel any anger from him, merely curiosity.
"Not exactly combat-ready, you know? I can see things from far away with Farsight, like, really detailed though." And what a thrill that is. I still get lost staring at leaves from time to time.
"Useful."
"Yeah, if you're not the one who has to fight after spotting the danger." I chuckle, then get serious. Might as well prod for a bit of information.
"Say, bro, you seem like... you know what you're doing... What do you think about all this? The tutorial, the system, all of it?"
Carter is quiet for a moment, like he's considering how much to tell me. He really looks scary, but now that I talk with him, the fear feels much more restrained, like watching a... guy in a scary suit instead of an actual monster.
"I think we're lab rats in someone's experiment. Or toys in a game. Either way, we play or we die."
"So you're playing?"
He spreads his arms, bone plates shifting with the movement. "What does it look like?"
Fair point.
I exhale through my nose.
"I think," I say, "fuck whoever set this up."
His laugh is louder this time.
"Fair," he says. "Fair enough. You seem pretty calm for someone who got yanked from Earth into monster-filled woods."
I think about Ma, about her face when I told her I was just going out for a bit. About how I never came home. "I'm just trying to survive long enough to get back. Got things to make right."
"Don't we all..."
There's a moment of silence between us. The forest sounds fill the gap—leaves rustling, the distant sound of something large moving through the underbrush.
He's the one to break it.
"And what's your Level?"
My mind grows cold in a moment.
So we're prodding now, huh? No matter how much civility he showed, we're still in place where the strongest makes the rules. Karl's the best example.
"Four." I say, dryly. It's actually 5, but we're still strangers.
His emotions do not waver.
His head tilts again. "Impressive."
I scoff. "Nah, Karl did all the work. Mauled wolves, beat goblins, left 'em half-dead so I could finish 'em off."
Carter actually chuckles. I realize his voice somehow sounds much more human than before. It changed as we talked and I didn't even realize...
"A generous man," he muses.
I don't respond.
Because I don't know if that's sarcasm or not.
"How about you, man? What level are you?"
"Ten," he says casually, as if it's not worth mentioning.
What the actual fuck. Karl is only at 8.
Is he maybe lying? No... That's the smallest probability. If anything, his level is even higher. What the fuck.
I have so many follow-up questions. But instead...
"Yo."
He looks at me.
"Can I roll with you?" The question comes out before I've fully thought it through, but once it's out, I realize I mean it.
Silence.
Then—
He laughs.
A real, genuine chuckle, deep and hollow, like bones rattling in an empty grave, but I keep on talking.
"Karl's losing it, man. John follows him like a puppy. They're going down a road I don't want any part of."
I don't know when I made my decision.
Maybe it was when I realized he wasn't planning to eat me alive.
Maybe it was when Karl kept running without a second glance, leaving me behind.
"And you think following me is safer?" There's amusement in his voice, but the feeling I get from him is still completely calm.
"My Empathy says you don't want to hurt me. That's more than I can say for a lot of things out here."
"Neutrality isn't the same as protection."
"I know that. But I can be useful." I tap the side of my head. "Farsight, remember? I can scout ahead, spot trouble before it finds us."
Carter makes that sound again—the one that might be a laugh. "Sure," he says eventually. "If you survive, be my guest."
That throws me off.
"If I surv—"
Something cold runs through me. A feeling I've never felt before, like ice water replacing my blood. My Empathy skill activates without me willing it, and suddenly I know—there's hatred directed at me. Pure, focused hatred.
On instinct, I activate Farsight, scanning the trees behind me.
There—a flash of red hair. A bow drawn back. Flames licking along the arrow's shaft.
I try to shout, to move, to do anything.
But it's too late.
The arrow flies.
Fire erupts.
Pain—brief and all-consuming—lances through my head.
Then nothing.