Pursued by two relentless dinosaurs, the bald player fled in desperation. Having finally shaken off his perilous tail, his spirit unsatisfied with merely losing the advantage so clumsily, he resolved to return and uncover the truth. En route, he heard a single explosion. Upon retracing his steps, all that greeted him were fragmented limbs and the scars of devastation left by the blast.
The chair was nowhere to be found, yet after diligent searching, he discovered the shattered remains of a box. Ravaged by the explosion, it lay in tatters, its contents vanished without trace.
"What was concealed inside?" he ground his teeth, uneasy at this loss.
With no recourse, he followed fresh footprints, trailing other dinosaurs deeper into the wilderness. The following day, one herd after another imploded and perished. Vigilant by nature, the bald player soon detected signs of human activity in the woods; pursuing these traces led him to a vast clearing where a mansion stood ensnared within electrified fencing. Beyond the fence yawned a deep moat, several meters wide. Peering cautiously over the edge, he gasped—a lethal array of countless pointed steel rods jutting upward awaited any fallen intruder.
"This is a defense against dinosaurs," he mused, gazing steadfastly at the estate. Resolute, he vowed to find an opportunity to infiltrate the stronghold; the halo must reside within.
Elsewhere, Ryan crouched beneath a thick carpet of fallen leaves in a sunken dinosaur footprint, clutching a box tightly, eyes squeezed shut in silent prayer that no dinosaur would trample upon the fragile shelter.
By the fifth day of the mission, Eric—fortified by her supermarket aid—remained in fair health; yet the ponytailed player faltered. Surviving on dew and wild fruit, her stomach rebelled mercilessly. She was compelled to deploy a healing kit, restoring her vitality anew.
"Explosions have become scarce today. Could it be all the dinosaurs in this forest have perished?" the ponytail fretted.
Eric voiced her own apprehension: "More beasts have surfaced today. With the forest's apex predators gone, other creatures grow bolder. Lingering here grows increasingly perilous."
No sooner had she spoken than a wolf emerged from behind a tree, salivating hungrily, before darting toward them like an arrow loosed.
"Wolves!" the ponytail shouted, brandishing a crudely sharpened wooden spear.
Eric wielded a similar weapon, eyes fixed warily on the predator, adopting a defensive stance. Yet before long, a pack materialized behind the lone wolf.
"A wolf pack—run!" Eric commanded, pivoting and sprinting. The ponytail followed closely; they tore through the forest like a tempest.
A chilling chorus of howls pursued relentlessly; Eric reckoned at least thirty wolves pressed behind them.
"I can climb a tree. Can you?" Eric glanced back, posing the urgent question.
The ponytail gritted her teeth. "If I can't, I must learn—there's a large tree just ahead, right?"
"The biggest one nearby," Eric affirmed. "You take that one; I'll climb the adjacent."
With renewed speed, they widened the gap, Eric charging toward her chosen trunk. In a few swift motions, she ascended five or six meters effortlessly. The ponytail, envious yet resolute despite inexperience, summoned every ounce of strength under fierce pressure from the pursuing pack. With agonizing determination, she scaled the tree just moments before the wolves lunged.
The lead wolf bit off half her ankle. The searing pain caused her to tremble, but she instinctively deployed a healing kit, rekindling her vigor to continue climbing.
Eric, perched seven or eight meters high, perched on a branch, exhaled in relief upon seeing her companion's successful ascent. She called down, guiding her carefully, "Slightly to the left—there's a sturdy branch suitable for you to sit on."
Obediently, the ponytail settled, releasing a long-held breath.
The wolves divided, some guarding Eric, others surrounding the ponytail, clawing at the bark in frenzied agitation. The chilling scrape of claws against wood sent shivers across the ponytail's scalp.
For safety, Eric climbed an additional five meters until the pack's forms were nearly lost among the leaves. The ponytail vanished from sight as well. At last, Eric retrieved a bar of chocolate, savoring its sweetness to soothe her exhaustion. Sleepiness surged; she murmured, "I'm going to rest. Wake me if anything happens." Receiving a faint reply, she leaned against the trunk and closed her eyes.
Against all odds, she fell asleep. Awakening after some forty minutes, she consulted a hidden watch before descending cautiously. The wolves remained below, persistently scratching and even attempting to climb, though fortunately their arboreal skills were poor.
Nearby, the ponytail also slumbered.
Suddenly, the wolves howled at her, rousing her abruptly.
"How long will these wolves keep their vigil?" she lamented with a heavy heart. Though weary of wild fruits and plagued by acid reflux, trapped atop the tree, she could only gnaw on leaves for sustenance.
Eric, recalling her enhanced agility, conceived a plan. Perhaps, like a monkey, she could use the branches as springboards, leaping and weaving from tree to tree.
The ponytail watched with envy. Such is the duality of fate—the mutation distorted appearance but bestowed practical prowess.
"Then be careful," she warned Eric as they parted ways.
Though Eric maintained vigilance around her, even climbing separate trees, her caution was born from prudent wariness—not personal mistrust. The box they had obtained together lay in her possession; to leave carrying it alone would be unjust. Nor could she stand idly by while the ponytailed player languished, trapped by wolves in the branches.
"I'll try to lure the wolves away. When the opportunity arises, you descend and flee," she instructed.
Surprise and relief mingled in the ponytail's voice. "You can do that? That's wonderful—thank you!"
After a moment's preparation, Eric carefully balanced herself on a swaying branch, arms outstretched to steady her. Below, the wolves bayed fiercely while the ponytail watched, tense and silent.
Having steadied herself, Eric fixed her gaze on a neighboring tree's branch. Her pupils narrowed as an unfamiliar surge of power welled within. Clenching and unclenching her fists, she summoned courage and leapt, bounding toward the targeted limb.
Wind whispered past her ears; her peripheral vision glimpsed the pursuing wolves below. Yet, remarkably, fear eluded her—it felt as effortless as drinking water.
In a blink, she landed securely.
Grasping a horizontal branch before her chest, she peered down to find her feet firmly planted—steady as stone.
A rare smile graced her lips; emboldened, Eric vaulted onward to another tree.
The ponytailed player watched Eric's graceful arcs recede into the distance. Employing some stratagem, she stirred the wolves still nearby into agitated howls, prompting their departure. Seizing the moment, she scrambled down. Her legs wobbled upon landing, yet she dared not pause, swiftly retreating.
Meanwhile, Eric ceased her leaps and instead ascended higher. Skillfully tending to her wounds, once the scent of blood faded, the wolves' fervor abated. Turning toward their earlier path, she surmised the ponytail had escaped.
After two hours' rest, Eric resolved to slip away quietly.
Eschewing bleeding to distract the wolves, three hours later wild boars diverted their attention, allowing Eric a safe escape.
Surveying the twilight, she decided against nocturnal travel—reduced dinosaur numbers meant more beasts prowled at night. Selecting a suitable tree to rest upon, the wolves' howls shattered any hope of slumber.
The night resounded not only with lupine cries but also eerie, unidentifiable sounds.
The forest unveiled its fangs, asserting dominance over intrusive humans.
In the dead of night, something slithered up Eric's calf. She grasped swiftly, seizing a snake as thick as her arm. It writhed, poised to bite, but her cleaver fell decisively, severing its head before casting the corpse away.
Unable to lie still, Eric resolved to depart early.
A notion took root: to seek the region with minimal beastly activity—that must lie closest to the dinosaurs.
Simple in concept, execution proved arduous. Days passed; Eric felt herself slipping into true wildness—enduring exposure, evading dangers at every turn.
She had neither seen the ponytailed player again nor encountered the other two players, uncertain of their progress.
Fate shifted on the ninth day when she met a stranger.
His hair, shoulder-length and bound behind by a rope, led Eric initially to mistake him for the ponytailed player as he moved through the woods. Only when he turned to look did she realize he was different.
Standing motionless, wary, she greeted cautiously. Unexpectedly, he spoke first: "New player?"
"Are you a player?" Eric countered.
Stepping forward, he flipped back his tousled hair, yet stubble masked much of his face. He sighed deeply. "Yes, I'm an unfortunate player trapped here. Before you arrived, this mission had lain dormant for three years. Thank goodness you came. Your companions—where are they?"
Eric, startled to encounter firsthand what Austin had described—a player stranded within the mission—felt uncertain.
The man refrained from approaching, introducing himself: "I'm Kevin. And you are?"
"Eric. You said you've been here three years—have you missed the halo or is the task too difficult?" she queried.
"Tasks aren't hard. Let's sit and talk; no harm in taking a moment."
"Not hard?"
Detecting skepticism in Eric's eyes, Kevin smiled ruefully. "It's no boasting nor arrogance. Once you hear me out, you'll understand."
"Alright, let's talk," Eric agreed. Scanning nearby, she chose a tree. Before she spoke, Kevin suggested, "Let's pick two trees, one each—it'll help guard against beasts."
"Good idea."
They climbed, settling about two meters apart, and began their conversation.