The forest was painted in warm autumn tones—crimson leaves, golden light—but none of it felt comforting. The only sound was the frantic pounding of feet against damp soil as the students ran, lungs burning, hearts racing.
Behind them came the SkinWalkers—distorted, horrifying creatures that wore their faces like twisted masks, mimicking them with an uncanny precision that made it hard to tell friend from foe.
Fear gripped their chests like a vice. They had no plan, no guidance—just an overwhelming urge to escape. Branches clawed at their skin and the fading light made it harder to see, but they kept running, deeper into the unknown, until finally—
"There! A fence!" someone shouted.
Before them stood a towering iron fence, weathered and ancient, stretching out in all directions like a wall dividing worlds. It surrounded a clearing of sorts—strange, quiet, and unsettlingly still. The students exchanged uncertain glances.
"Do we… go in?" a student asked, panting.
A loud rustle behind them made the decision for them.
"Move!" shouted another, and they poured through the gate.
The moment they crossed into the fenced area, something shifted. It was subtle—like a sudden drop in pressure, or the way the forest's screeches fell silent. Stillness returned.
Then, a voice broke the quiet. Gravelly, old, and oddly calm.
"Get in quickly. The SkinWalkers are close."
The students froze, eyes searching. An old man stepped from the shadows of a hut nestled by the trees, his presence sudden but not aggressive. His eyes were sharp, and his face was lined by time and experience.
Without better options, the students filed inside, joining a larger group of survivors already huddled together. The air was tense—every breath heavy with anxiety.
As the sun dipped lower, the light turned copper and dim. Shadows grew. And then came the sound—high-pitched, inhuman screeching that echoed from the woods beyond the fence.
"What do we do?" a girl whispered. "There's too many of them… and we can't even tell who's real and who's not out there."
The old man raised a hand. "Calm yourselves. You're safe here."
"How can you be sure?" asked another student, voice shaky.
"I laid a barrier around this place," he said. "Salt. SkinWalkers can't cross it. It's an old method, but it still works. Anyone who entered this space—human."
A silence fell.
Relief washed over the students, some even laughing nervously. The worst-case scenario—the fear of letting in a SkinWalker—was off the table. For now.
"I thought this was supposed to be a training program," one student muttered, trying to joke. "Not a real-life Among Us game."
The comparison earned a few tired chuckles, but no one really smiled. Just imagining the possibility of guessing wrong chilled them to the bone.
Night crept in. The trees beyond the barrier became silhouettes. The noises grew louder—groans, snarls, the wet sound of something dragging itself across the ground.
Then one of the 1-A students stepped forward. He kept staring at the old man, brows furrowed.
"Who… are you, exactly?"
The group turned. The question seemed simple, but something in his tone made it feel heavier.
"I'm with U.A.," the old man replied slowly. "Got stuck here during a seasonal cross-check. Lost track of time."
Another silence.
"No way," the student said. "U.A. monitors everything. No staff gets lost without alerts. There would've been search parties. You wouldn't be alone. And you wouldn't survive this long—not without backup or a quirk."
The old man's expression faltered for just a second. But the students noticed.
"You knew about the SkinWalkers before we did," another student added. "You knew what they were. You had a whole salt barrier ready. How?"
The air shifted. The tension spiked.
The old man didn't speak.
A different 1-A student stepped up. "You're not U.A. staff. You're something else. You've been hiding in plain sight. You waited for us to come in."
"Reveal yourself," someone said. "Now."
The old man's face grew grim. "You don't understand what you're dealing with…"
His voice dropped. His body began to convulse. Bones cracked, muscles expanded grotesquely. His thin, dry limbs swelled with unnatural force, fur sprouting across his arms. One eye bulged while the other disappeared. His stomach split open down the middle, revealing a vertical mouth filled with rows of jagged teeth.
Screams erupted.
The transformation was complete.
Mapinguari.
A creature of Brazilian myth—ancient, grotesque, powerful.
---
[Scene Break – Commentary Room]
Present Mic leaned forward in his chair, eyes wide behind his shades.
"Holy crap! What is THAT?! Let's see here… uh-huh… Ah! That's a Mapinguari, folks! Straight outta Brazilian legend—huge, stinks like death, and stronger than a rampaging Nomu on caffeine!"
Beside him, other commentators fumbled through monster profiles and broadcast notes.
"Wasn't this season supposed to be survival-themed?" one muttered. "This is full-on horror movie vibes."
"U.A. isn't playing around this year…"
---
[Audience Reactions – Spectator Seats]
"Bro… this is wild. They're fighting monsters and trust issues?"
"First SkinWalkers, now this thing? That's scarier than the sandworm from summer!"
"U.A. has seriously lost it… and I'm here for it."
The audience was glued to the screen. A mix of fear, thrill, and disbelief charged the air like electricity.
"I don't even wanna think about what Winter's gonna be like…"
---
Back in the Safe Zone
The students scattered from the center, retreating toward the perimeter of the barrier. Mapinguari towered over them, his one eye filled with fury.
"You children… You ruined everything!" he roared. "I was feasting on your fear. I had a good thing going!"
He thrashed wildly, demolishing huts with swipes of his massive arms.
The students were trapped. If they stayed, they'd be slaughtered. But outside the fence, the SkinWalkers waited, groaning and growling in the dark.
It was no-win.
Until Kabuto—one of the 1-A students—stepped forward, voice calm and focused. "I have a plan. I'll lure him out. You guys distract him. Just for a second."
"You're crazy!" someone hissed.
"No—listen. If we can force him past the salt barrier, the SkinWalkers will attack him. They don't care who he is."
Reluctantly, the others nodded.
"Let's move!" Kabuto shouted.
The group split up, hurling attacks and distractions. Flashbangs, illusions, even a fire quirk—all to keep Mapinguari off balance.
A general studies student stepped up. "Time to shine!" he grinned—and unleashed his quirk: Toxic Fart.
A horrid green cloud erupted.
Mapinguari reeled back. "You *disrespectful* little pests!!"
He lunged—but Kabuto was faster. With a flash of light and speed, he struck the monster square in the chest.
BOOM.
The impact launched Mapinguari out of the safe zone, past the salt line, into the forest.
The silence that followed was short-lived.
Snarls filled the air. SkinWalkers converged on him.
Mapinguari roared in outrage. "You think this ends me?! I'll consume this world—I'll swallow it into emptiness! NO MONSTERS, NO STUDENTS—ONLY ME!"
The trees shook.
And so began what the students would later call:
Mapinguari's Big Mukbang.
---
So this is Chatgpt enchanted version , what do you think about this? Is this good or bad? If this good i will use chatgpt to enchant my trashy chapter so this fanfic become more readable.