I woke with my face pressed into wet sand, lungs clawing for air, my body aching as if the sea had tried to break me apart and failed. Salt burned my throat when I coughed, my fingers digging into the shore as if it might pull me back under.

“Darren…”

The name slipped out before I even saw him.

He lay a few feet away, half-buried where the tide had abandoned him. For a moment—just a moment—I waited for him to move, to curse, to laugh the way he always did when things went wrong. But the waves came and went, and he stayed still.

I crawled to him. My hands hovered, unsure where to touch, as if I could still hurt him. His skin was cold. Too cold.

“No… no, no…”

My voice cracked, useless against the silence. My stomach twisted, and I gagged, but nothing came out—just dry heaves and the taste of salt.

We weren’t supposed to die out here. We were supposed to make money, go home, and laugh about the storms we survived. He was supposed to be there.

I don’t remember deciding to bury him. My body just moved.

I dug into the sand with my bare hands, nails tearing, grit grinding into my skin. I kept working until my arms trembled, until each handful of sand felt heavier than the last. I dragged him into the shallow pit, avoiding his face, because if I looked—if I really looked—I knew I wouldn’t be able to finish.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, the words barely sound. “I’m sorry I didn’t move… I’m sorry I left you…”

The sand covered him slowly. Too slowly.

When it was done, I just knelt there, staring at the uneven mound, waiting for something—anything—but the island gave me nothing back. No wind. No sound. Just silence.

A shadow passed over me.

I looked up. A bird circled above—massive, its wings stretching wide enough to blot out the pale sky. Hunger twisted inside me, sharp and sudden. I staggered to my feet and lunged when it came low.

I almost had it.

The ground exploded.

Claws burst from the sand, followed by a monstrous body, legs snapping. A giant crab seized the bird mid-flight, its claws crushing bone with a sickening crack before dragging it screaming into the surf.

I stumbled back, heart slamming against my ribs. My breath came in short, broken gasps.

This place…

This place wasn’t right.

I turned away from the shore.

The forest stood waiting.

Trees twisted together like something grew wrong, their roots clawing out of the earth as if trying to escape it. The canopy swallowed the light, leaving only shifting shadows beneath. The air felt thick, pressing against my chest, each breath harder than the last.

I hesitated at the edge.

Behind me, the sea. Ahead, the unknown.

My stomach growled, sharp with hunger. My hands shook—not from the cold, but from something deeper. Fear.

Still, I stepped forward.

And the jungle seemed to close in around me.

Branches snapped under my feet as I pushed deeper into the forest. Something shifted ahead.

It rose from the undergrowth—long, segmented, glistening. A centipede the size of a fallen log. Its body rippled as it lifted its head, mandibles twitching.

We locked eyes.

A sharp hiss cut through the air.

The creature spat.

The liquid struck a nearby tree with a wet crack. Bark blackened instantly, curling inward as if eaten alive. Smoke hissed from the wound.

My breath hitched—then my body moved before I could think. I ran.

The forest blurred. Roots lunged at my ankles, branches clawed at my skin. Behind me, the ground trembled with the creature’s pursuit—fast, relentless.

A step—then nothing.

The world snapped upward.

A net yanked me into the air, ropes biting into my limbs as I dangled, spinning. Panic surged. I thrashed, twisted, and trying to free myself.

A heavy crack echoed.

I looked up.

A massive log swung toward me.

Too fast.

I grabbed the net, heaving my weight to one side. The ropes strained—then shifted just enough.

The log slammed past, grazing the edge of the net.

The impact threw me sideways. Pain exploded through my body. The world spun, vision fracturing into shards of light.

Darkness crept in.

Footsteps.

A voice, rough and amused, cut through the haze.

“Ah… not dead after all.”

A figure loomed above me, his face blurred by shadow.

The man’s smile faded as he studied me.

“You shouldn’t have survived that.”

His gaze shifted—past me.

Into the trees

“Because it’s still hunting.”

Then i colapse

Pain dragged me back.

It didn’t come gently.

It tore through me—sharp, splintering, alive.

A scream ripped from my throat before I could stop it.

My body convulsed. Something inside me shifted wrong—bones grinding, muscles screaming as if they had been torn apart and forced back together without care.

The world lurched.

I hit the ground.

Hard.

Air fled my lungs in a broken gasp.

“Silence.”

The word cut through the pain.

I looked up.

The man stood over me, his expression no longer amused. His eyes were sharp now—cold, alert, listening to something beyond me.

“If you can’t stay quiet,” he said, voice low, controlled, “I’ll kill you myself.”

The forest held its breath.

My scream died in my throat.

I bit down hard, choking on it, forcing the sound back inside. Tears blurred my vision as my body trembled, every nerve still burning—but no sound came out.

Not even a whimper.

The man watched me for a moment longer.

Then he turned—

And walked away.

Just like that.

Leaves shifted under his steps, then silence swallowed him whole.

I was alone.

The pain didn’t leave.

It settled in, deeper now. A slow, grinding agony that made every breath feel like it scraped against something broken inside me. I lay there, shaking, staring up at the unmoving canopy.

Time stretched.

I didn’t know how long.

The light above dimmed, fading from pale gray into something darker. The air grew colder. Heavier.

Watching.

Something moved in the distance.

I shut my eyes.

Don’t move.

Don’t breathe.

Don’t exist.

Minutes—or hours—passed like that.

Then—

Footsteps.

I flinched.

They came closer, steady, unhurried. Not the frantic skitter of something hunting.

Human.

My eyes snapped open.

The man stood over me again.

“Ah.”

A grin pulled at his lips.

“Still alive.”

He let out a short laugh, shaking his head.

“Good thing nothing decided to eat you.”

I didn’t answer.

Couldn’t.

He glanced at the sky through the gaps in the trees. What little light remained was fading fast.

His expression shifted.

“It’s getting late,” he muttered.

A pause.

Then, more serious—

“Those things swarm after sundown.”

My chest tightened.

He stepped forward and grabbed me without warning, hoisting me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing.

Pain flared instantly.

A strangled breath escaped me.

“P-please…” My voice came out raw, barely there. “G-gently… sir…”

He didn’t stop.

Didn’t slow.

“If you can still complain,” he said flatly, adjusting his grip, “you’re not dying yet.”

The forest moved around us as he walked.

Faster than I expected.

Branches brushed past. Shadows stretched longer, thicker. The air shifted with the coming dark, something restless stirring beneath it.

I didn’t look back.

I couldn’t.

All I could do was endure the pain, each step sending shockwaves through my body as he carried me deeper into the unknown.

Far ahead—

A faint glow flickered between the trees.

Firelight.

The man didn’t speak again.

Not until the forest began to thin.

“Don’t wander,” he said.

A warning.

Not advice.

Then we stepped into a clearing—

And for the first time since I woke on this cursed land,

I saw something that looked almost… human.

The first thing I heard was the steady rhythm of wood splitting.

Thak.

Thak.

Thak.

It dragged me out of the dark.

When I opened my eyes, the world came back slowly—blurred light leaking through gaps in wooden walls, the smell of smoke and damp earth, and the dull ache crawling across my body.

I was lying on a bed made of rough fabric and bundled leaves.

Another thak echoed outside.

I forced myself up.

Pain shot through my side.

“Stay down.”

The voice was rough, old—yet firm enough to freeze me mid-motion.

I turned my head.

A man stood just beyond the doorway, shirtless , his back carved and scarred symbols embedded with muscle. Each swing of his machete was clean and precise. Wood split like it feared him.

He didn’t look at me at first.

Then he did.

Sharp eyes. Watching. Measuring.

“You move like that again,” he said, resting the machete on his shoulder, “your wound will open.”

I exhaled and let myself sink back slightly. “...Noted.”

He studied me for another moment, then nodded as if confirming something only he understood.

“We’ll talk,” he said. “I have questions.”

He turned away before I could answer.

“I made food. Don’t expect anything fancy.”

We ate in silence.

Grilled fish. No seasoning. No garnish.

Just fire and hunger.

I hadn’t realized how starving I was until the first bite. My hands trembled slightly as I ate.

Across from me, the old man watched.

“Name?.”

I swallowed. “...Ethan.”

He gave a small nod.

"Just Ethan? Family name." he said

"Ethan Sablan"

“Well then, Ethan.” A pause. “ I am Richard Winston.”

He extended nothing—not a hand, not a smile. Just his name.

“Now,” he said, tearing into his fish, “how did you end up here?.”

I told him everything.

The storm. The ship. The thing beneath the waves.

As the words left my mouth, something twisted inside my chest. My throat tightened.

But no tears came.

Not even one.

When I finished, the hut fell quiet again.

Richard stared at me, unreadable.

Then he spoke.

“You should know something about this island.”

I looked up.

" Welcome to hell, Godforsaken Land"

“Try not to die like the others.”

My grip tightened around the fish.

“The others?” I said. “There were more survivors?”

He tilted his head slightly.

“There was. Not anymore”

"Those Fools!"

A pause.

“You already know this place isn’t normal, don’t you?”

I nodded.

His lips twitched.

Then—suddenly—he laughed.

Not loudly. Not joyfully.

Just… something dry. Hollow.

I frowned. “What’s funny?”

He shook his head, still smiling faintly. “It’s been a long time,” he muttered. “Since I had someone to talk to.”

Lonely.

That word lingered in my mind.

Then his gaze sharpened again.

“When you first arrived,” he said, “did you hear anything?”

“Hear what?”

“Voices.”

I frowned. “No.”

He leaned back slightly.

“Good.”

The way he said it made my stomach tighten.

“If you ever do,” he continued, voice low now, “no matter whose voice it is—your mother, your friends, anyone—”

His eyes locked onto mine.

“Don’t follow it.”

Silence pressed in.

“There are things here,” he added quietly, “far worse than what you saw. Especially at night”

A chill ran down my spine.

“What was that thing that almost killed me?” I asked.

For a moment, his expression didn’t change.

Then—

“I call it… Centimor.”

He burst into laughter.

“Centimor?” I repeated.

“It’s a centipede… with armor! Hahaha!”

I stared at him.

Then, despite everything… I smiled a little.

“...How did you end up here?” I asked.

The laughter stopped.

Just like that.

Richard looked away.

The air shifted.

“It’s getting late,” he said, standing. “Still things to do.”

That was the end of it.

And I understood.

Some questions weren’t meant to be answered.

Days passed.

Then weeks.

Then a month.

My wounds closed slowly, leaving tight scars behind. I learned the rhythm of the place—the chores, the silence, the way the forest seemed to breathe.

Sometimes, deep in the trees…

I heard something.

Whispers.

Faint.

Calling.

I never followed.

Two months later, I found myself standing outside the hut, watching Richard prepare his gear.

“I want to learn,” I said.

He didn’t look at me. “Learn what?”

“To hunt.”

The axe paused mid-air.

Then lowered.

“Before that,” he said, “there’s something you need to see.”

I frowned. “What?”

“A temple.”

“Then let’s go now.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

He finally turned.

“If we leave now,” he said calmly, “we won’t make it back before sundown.”

I frowned. “ With your skill, why are you even worried about—”

I never finished.

He glares at me and walks away

The next morning, I found him outside.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

He waved it off.

“I’m not mad,” he replied. “You just… said something that brought back memories.”

A pause.

“Come on,” he added. “We’re wasting daylight.”

The forest thickened as we moved.

Then, suddenly—

It opened.

Stone rose from the earth ahead of us.

Broken.

Cracked.

Consumed by vines and time.

“…This is it?” I whispered.

Richard nodded.

“Found it while tracking a boar,” he said. “Blood trail led me here.”

We stepped closer.

Ancient carvings covered the walls—symbols I couldn’t understand. But feels familiar

“I thought there might be something valuable,” he continued. “Treasure, maybe.”

He let out a quiet breath.

“But all I found were these.”

He ran a hand over the carvings.

“At first, I didn’t go deeper.”

His eyes darkened slightly.

“…But curiosity won.”

We moved inside.

The air turned colder.

Still.

“There was a skeleton,” he said quietly. “Sitting in a corner.”

I swallowed.

“It was holding a book,” he continued. “Like it didn’t want to let go.”

He paused.

“I took it.”

A faint echo seemed to whisper through the ruins.

“And then…”

He didn’t finish right away.

“…something screamed.”

The word barely left his lips.

“It came from deeper inside.”

Silence pressed in around us.

“I ran,” he said simply. “Didn’t even take the boar. Just ran.”

We stood there.

Still.

“If you’re wondering why I brought you here, despite being dangerous” he added, “it’s because… nothing’s happened since.”

A long pause.

“…But I never went deeper again.”

We didn’t stay long.

As we left, he suddenly spoke again.

“That book,” he said. “It explained these carvings.”

I looked at him.

“Runes,” he said. “A way to use… something beyond us.”

"I learned a little tricks with the book" he said

He stopped walking.

Then—

He jumped.

So high I lost sight of him for a second.

A blade flashed.

A tree split cleanly.

It crashed down in perfect sections.

He lifted the wood like it weighed nothing.

I stared.

“…That’s from the runes?” I asked.

He didn’t answer.

“Get on.”

I climbed onto the wood.

“Hold tight,” he said.

Then he moved.

The forest blurred.

Wind roared in my ears.

Shapes moved between the trees—long, armored bodies writhing through the shadows.

Centimors.

They chased us.

They couldn’t catch him.

I held on for dear life.

And somehow—

I was smiling.

By the time we reached the hut, I collapsed.

Completely exhausted.

Richard? Not even breathing hard.

“Teach me,” I said, barely able to sit up.

He looked at me.

Then smiled.

“Of course.”

A pause.

“That’s why I showed you.”

He turned away, picking up his axe.

“I’m not getting any younger.”

The axe sank into wood.

“I will teach you how to survive”

Another strike.

His voice lowered.

“…So prepare yourself.”

The axe rose again.

“My training…”

It fell.

“…is not easy.”

He laughed.