The moment the crimson shard cracked between my teeth, I braced myself for something—anything. A searing rush of power. A jolt of enlightenment. A sudden flood of primal instinct. But instead, all I got was… nothing.
My vision didn't blur. My muscles didn't bulge. No new instinct flooded me. No new ability stirred in my mind. Just a faint warmth in my gut that died almost instantly. My transformation didn't evolve. My strength didn't surge. My heart, however, pounded louder than ever.
Why?Why nothing?
Those damned novels lied. The protagonists always gained immense strength, new abilities, or elemental affinities after consuming mystical objects like this. Sure, maybe some had drawbacks—internal injuries, demonic qi corruption—but they always gained something. Me? I felt cheated. Betrayed. And I had no time to dwell on it.
A guttural growl sliced through my thoughts.
The tiger had pounced.
I barely reacted in time. Its claws scraped against my arm as I twisted to the side. Blood splattered across the damp forest floor. My mind screamed in agony, but I forced myself to move. Pain would come later. Right now, I had to survive.
This part of the forest was dense with towering evergreens. Their needle-like leaves scattered across the ground, slippery when wet. Moss and decay clung to everything. Shadows flickered with each gust of wind. The storm from the previous days had left the terrain muddy and treacherous. I slipped once, caught myself on a tree trunk slick with rain and moss. The tiger, furious and hungry, circled.
I reached for my spear—DIY, reinforced with sharpened bone tips and wrapped tightly with vine-grip. My breathing was heavy. The Lumen core was still embedded beneath my tongue, already active, already working overtime.
I transformed. The bear's form enveloped me like a cloak of living instinct. My bones shifted, skin hardened, claws elongated. It didn't hurt like the first time. Instead, the transformation felt smooth—almost natural. The core pulsed once, then stabilized.
The tiger lunged again.
We collided mid-air, a chaotic tangle of fur, claws, and roars. The impact knocked us into a nearby tree, splitting bark, sending leaves raining down like shrapnel. I slammed my claw into its side, felt ribs buckle beneath the pressure, but it retaliated, snapping its fangs onto my shoulder.
Agony exploded.
I roared—not like a human scream but a bestial cry that reverberated through the trees. The sound startled a flock of crows from above, their panicked flapping echoing as if mourning me in advance.
We rolled over mud and leaves. Blood—mine and its—soaked into the forest floor. My shoulder was mangled, but I forced myself to keep going. I had to kill it. I had to.
I raised my spear and stabbed toward its eye. It twisted, and the tip scraped along its skull, drawing a line of blood and bone. The tiger yowled, thrashing, but I didn't let go. I drove my weight onto it, hugging its neck, trying to force it down. My bear arms—thick and fur-covered—were my only advantage.
But I wasn't stronger. Not really. Just more desperate.
Its claws dug into my side, raking long gashes. The pain was unbearable, my vision swimming. I adjusted my grip, tried to lock my limbs tighter. The tiger snarled and began to twist, trying to throw me off. We slammed into another tree, this one thick with moss and fungus. The bark tore under the weight of our struggle.
My hands were slipping.
"Die," I growled through clenched teeth. "Just die already!"
The tiger bit again, this time catching my forearm. I screamed, pounded its head with my free paw, over and over. Blood matted its fur and mine. I could feel bones cracking beneath my blows. It groaned but didn't give up. It clawed wildly, managing to scratch across my face. My vision went red.
Everything blurred.
I bit back. Literally. I sank my bear teeth into its throat. Not deep enough. It bucked again, throwing me off—but not far. I stumbled, caught myself, and charged again.
I used the environment—trees, roots, elevation. I maneuvered it near a fallen log and tried to trap its leg, but it slipped free, slashed my thigh. Warm blood poured down. My movements were getting sluggish. My transformation was wearing off. I could feel the Lumen core dimming.
I had 10 minutes left.
I forced the spear into its flank again. The beast roared, wheeling toward me with hate in its one remaining eye. Its face was a mess—bleeding gashes, one eye lost, a snapped tooth. But it was alive. And so was I.
I grabbed its jaw mid-lunge. Barely. My claws dug into its flesh as I forced its head back. I could feel the strength in its body, like coiled steel beneath a furred sheath.
Another minute passed.My bear arms were getting thinner.My legs shorter.I was reverting.
I couldn't win in human form.
So I did the unthinkable.
I roared and charged forward, wrapping both arms around its neck like a vice. We crashed into a tree so hard the bark exploded. The tiger thrashed, raking my back, trying to throw me off. I refused to let go. My muscles screamed. My wounds throbbed. My ribs ached.
"You're not taking me down!"
My claws raked its belly. The tiger shrieked in pain and tried to bite my throat. I shoved my forehead into its muzzle, stunning it briefly. Then I dragged it down, using my full weight to pin it against the ground.
We wrestled in the mud—blood, saliva, filth. I clawed its back, it bit my flank. My fur was falling out as the transformation ebbed. I was halfway between human and bear now. A grotesque hybrid. But I didn't care.
I slammed its skull against a rock.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
It went limp—barely. Blood oozed from its mouth. But I wasn't done. I knew better. I'd seen too many movies. The moment I turned my back, it'd pounce again. So I wrapped my limbs tighter and began squeezing with every ounce of strength I had left.
My arms burned. My head was ringing. My breath was shallow. The world tilted sideways.
I didn't stop.
"Die," I croaked.
The bones in its neck cracked.It twitched.Then lay still.
But I held on for another full minute, just to be sure.
Only then did I let go and roll away.
The sky above spun. The canopy of pine trees blurred in my vision. Everything smelled of blood, wet earth, and death.
My body was broken—scratched, torn, bruised. I'd lost chunks of flesh. I couldn't feel my right arm. My transformation was gone. I was fully human again.
And the tiger was dead.
I started laughing. A ragged, broken laugh.
I survived.
Barely. But I survived.
The crimson shard hadn't saved me. The novels had lied. Or maybe the shard had done something. Maybe it enhanced my transformation slightly. Maybe it helped me not die from blood loss. Or maybe it was just a dud.
I didn't care anymore.
I crawled over to the beast. Its body was huge—striped fur soaked in blood. Its ribs were twisted from our struggle. One eye gone. Jaws slightly open. I touched its head gently.
"Sorry," I whispered. "But I wasn't ready to die."
I tore one of its claws off with effort. A trophy.
Then I collapsed against the nearest tree, gasping for breath.
The forest around me was quiet. Still. Only the wind rustled the leaves. No more growls. No more roars.
I'd won.
But at what cost?
My vision flickered. The pain returned in full. My body was on fire.
I passed out with my hand clutching the tiger's claw.
Day 108: Night.
When I woke again, I was in the cave. The old man had dragged me back, somehow. Bandaged me. I was covered in leaves, herbs, and crude wrappings. My arm had been set. The wounds cleaned. I could barely move.
He sat near the fire, not saying a word. His eyes watched me. No judgment. Just silent respect.
He'd seen the tiger's corpse. Dragged pieces back. Used its fur as blankets. Cooked the meat.
I didn't ask for thanks.And he didn't offer any.
But we understood one another.
In this world, strength was everything. Survival was the only goal.And now... I was still here.
Barely.