2 — Eat or Be Eaten
Vincent walked through
the forest with something resembling confidence, though perhaps
"confidence" was generous. He'd survived his first
encounter, learned the core mechanic, and gained a foothold in this
nightmare. That counted for something.
Most beta testers
would've quit after that first mob. But I figured it out. I adapted.
That's the difference between casual players and people like me.
His Integrity sat at
54%. Not great, but survivable. The Hunger had shifted from "urgent"
to "persistent," a low hum in the back of his skull that
never quite went away.
He tried not to think
about what he'd just eaten. Tried to reframe it, rationalize it, put
it in a box labeled "Game Mechanics" and move on.
It's like eating
in Minecraft. You kill a cow, you eat the beef. Same principle.
Different aesthetic. The devs just went for a more visceral approach.
Artistic choice. I respect it, actually.
The rationalization
held for approximately thirty seconds. Then his brain replayed the
taste, the texture, the way the flesh had given under his teeth. He
pushed the thought away.
Focus. Survive.
Level up. Get paid.
The second encounter
found him while he was examining one of the skin-trees, trying to
understand if they were interactive elements or just environmental
dressing. A chittering thing with too many joints skittered out from
behind the trunk, legs bending in directions that violated basic
anatomy, mandibles clicking.
Vincent's first
instinct was to run. His second instinct, surprisingly, was to fight.
Not out of courage, but out of a rapidly forming logic: if he ran
from everything, he'd never level. If he never leveled, he'd never
get paid. If he never got paid, he'd go back to his mother's house
and broccoli gratin.
Unacceptable.
Alright. I've got
this. I know the mechanics now. Target the weak points. Use terrain
advantage. Basic RPG strategy.
The creature lunged.
Vincent threw himself sideways—not gracefully, more like a sack of
potatoes tossed by an unenthusiastic chef—but he avoided the
attack. The creature's mandibles snapped at empty air.
See? Dodged it.
That's skill.
He had dodged it
because he'd fallen over his own feet and gravity had pulled him out
of the attack's trajectory. Skill, arguably, had nothing to do with
it.
Vincent scrambled to
his feet as the creature turned, recalibrating. He had no weapons, no
skills, no plan beyond "don't die again." The creature
skittered forward, clicking and chittering, and Vincent did the only
thing his panicked brain could conjure: he lunged forward and grabbed
it.
His hands found
purchase on the thing's thorax—smooth, cold, wrong. The creature
thrashed, mandibles snapping inches from his face, legs flailing to
hook into his flesh. Vincent squeezed, felt the chitin crack slightly
under his grip, and then, without thinking, without deciding, he bit.
His teeth sank into
the joint where the head met the thorax. Not deep, not lethal, but
enough to pierce, enough to taste. The creature shrieked—a
high-pitched, alien sound—and thrashed harder. But Vincent didn't
let go. His jaw was locked, teeth buried, body moving on autopilot.
He bit down harder.
Felt something pop. Fluid flooded his mouth—bitter, chemical,
wrong—but he swallowed.
[Critical
Hit: Weak Point]
[Enemy
Integrity: 34%]
[Feeding
Instinct: Activated]
Feeding Instinct?
That's a skill? I unlocked a skill? See, this is what I'm talking
about. Adaptive gameplay. The game rewards creative problem-solving.
The creature went
limp, stunned, paralyzed. Its legs twitched weakly, mandibles still
clicking but without force. Vincent released his grip and staggered
back. The creature collapsed, twitching, leaking fluid from the wound
at its neck.
It took perhaps thirty
seconds to die. Vincent stood there, panting, tasting battery acid
and raw copper, watching it happen.
[Enemy
Defeated]
[+50
EXP]
[Integrity:
42%]
[Hunger:
Moderate]
And below that,
smaller:
[New
Skill Detected: Predatory Bite]
[Effect:
Increased damage when targeting weak points with bite
attacks]
[Remark:
You're learning.]
Vincent stared at the
text. Predatory
Bite. That's actually pretty cool. Most players probably unlock basic
stuff like "Punch" or "Kick." But I got something
specialized. Something unique. That's what happens when you think
outside the box.
The Hunger pulsed,
quiet but insistent. He looked at the corpse.
It worked last
time. Eat to heal. That's the system. And this thing is probably more
nutritious than the last one. Might even give better stats.
He knelt beside the
corpse, tore off a chunk from the softer parts where the chitin was
thinner, and brought it to his mouth. It tasted like kerosene and
aluminum foil. He ate it anyway.
[Organic
matter consumed: 8%]
[Integrity:
+2%][Hunger:
Slightly reduced]
[HP
Stock: +12]
He ate more, working
through the corpse methodically, efficiently, treating it like a
resource node in a farming sim. By the time he finished, his
Integrity was at 58% and his Hunger had dropped to "Minimal."
Good. Efficient.
This is how you play survival games. You optimize. You don't waste
resources.
He stood, wiped his
mouth with the back of his hand, and continued walking. The forest
stretched endlessly in all directions, grey and wet and breathing.
But Vincent felt something that might have been confidence, if
confidence could coexist with the taste of insect viscera.
I'm getting the
hang of this. Learning the systems. Exploiting the mechanics. Give me
a few more hours and I'll have this whole zone on farm.
He would not, in fact,
have this whole zone on farm. But he'd find that out soon enough.
By the third kill,
Vincent had stopped questioning it entirely. The creature—a
bloated, slug-like thing with human teeth embedded in its flesh—had
attacked him while he was resting near a cluster of bone-white trees.
He'd killed it with Predatory Bite, aiming for the soft tissue at the
base of what might have been a neck, and the thing had deflated like
a punctured water balloon.
[Enemy
Defeated]
[+60
EXP]
[Level
Up!]
[EchoZero]
[Level:
1]
[Integrity:
68%]
[Psyche:
82%]
[Hunger:
Persistent]
Level 1. One hundred
dollars, technically, if he ever made it out of this nightmare.
There we go.
Progression. Told you I'd figure it out. Most people are probably
still stuck at level 0, crying about the difficulty. But I pushed
through. I adapted. That's the difference.
He ate the corpse
methodically, not rushed, not frantic, just efficient. The slug-thing
tasted like oysters left in a gym locker for three weeks, but his
body accepted it without complaint.
[Organic
matter consumed: 22%]
[Integrity:
68% → 91%]
[Hunger:
Minimal]
[HP
Stock: 78]
When he finished, he
wiped his mouth and stared at the notification that had been lurking
at the edge of his vision: Psyche:
82%.
If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
It had been 100% when
he started. Now it was 82%. The system was tracking something,
measuring something about his mental state.
Probably just
stress levels. Or immersion depth. Yeah. The more you get into the
game, the lower it goes. That makes sense. It's fine.
It was not fine, but
Vincent had become very good at lying to himself.
He sat against a
skin-tree, knees pulled to his chest, staring at the grey sky. He'd
been in-game for maybe two hours, maybe three. Hard to tell without a
clock, without sunlight, without any reference point except the slow,
steady decay of that Psyche stat.
He'd killed four
creatures. Eaten four creatures. Gained one level and two skills.
Not bad for a beta
test. I'm probably in the top percentile of players right now. The
devs are probably watching my playthrough, taking notes. "Who's
this guy? He's cracked. He's breaking our progression curve."
He looked at his
hands. Still pale, still waxy, but now he could see thin black lines
beneath the skin—like veins, but wrong. Too dark, too deliberate.
He flexed his fingers. The lines moved with them, pulsing faintly,
synced to his heartbeat.
Probably just a
visual effect. Character progression markers. Like how your character
gets scars in Fable. Cosmetic stuff.
He stood, stretched,
and kept walking. The forest waited, patient and hungry, for what
came next.
The fifth creature was
different. Larger, more aggressive, with too many fingers and not
enough bones. Vincent fought it near a pool of black water, using
what he'd learned: dodge, grapple, bite the weak points. The creature
thrashed and screamed, but Vincent held on, teeth buried in its neck,
tasting the hot rush of fluid that wasn't quite blood.
[Enemy
Defeated]
[+80
EXP]
[Level:
2]
When he ate this one,
something changed. Not in the taste—still awful—but in the
sensation. As he tore into the flesh, he felt something else,
something deeper inside the creature's torso. A dense, fibrous mass
that pulsed faintly even after death.
Vincent hesitated,
then dug deeper, pulling apart ribs and connective tissue until he
found it: a heart. Or something that functioned like a heart. Black,
veined, still warm.
Is this... an
organ drop? Like a crafting material?
[Special
tissue detected]
[Consumption
recommended]
He stared at it, then
at his Hunger gauge, which hadn't moved much despite eating half the
creature.
Recommended. That
means it's better than the normal meat. Higher quality. Like eating a
golden apple instead of a regular one.
He bit into the heart.
The taste was different—richer, denser, almost sweet beneath the
iron tang. And the moment he swallowed, something shifted.
[Organic
matter consumed: Core tissue]
[Integrity:
+15%]
[Hunger:
Minimal → Sated]
[Minor
attribute absorption detected]
[HP
Stock: +45]
Attribute
absorption? Did I just... did I get stats from that?
He checked his status.
His Integrity had jumped significantly, and his Hunger had dropped
more than it ever had from eating regular flesh. More than that, he
felt different. Stronger, slightly. More coordinated.
Oh shit. The
hearts give better bonuses. That's the mechanic. That's the
optimization strategy. Target the core, eat the heart, maximize
gains. This is exactly the kind of advanced tech the casual players
will never figure out.
Vincent smiled, or
tried to. His face felt stiff, the muscles not quite responding the
way they used to. But he pushed the thought aside.
I'm learning. I'm
getting better. This is how you master a game.
He had not mastered
anything. He had simply discovered the first step in a very long and
dark staircase. But Vincent, as always, interpreted data in the way
most favorable to his ego.
He continued through
the forest, hunting now with purpose, with strategy. Find creature,
kill creature, eat the heart first, then the rest if Hunger demanded.
Efficient. Optimal. Professional.
By level 3, Vincent
had killed seven creatures and consumed six hearts. His body had
changed in ways he barely noticed: his fingers slightly longer, his
movement slightly faster, his senses slightly sharper. The black
veins beneath his waxy skin had spread, reaching up his forearms now,
pulsing with each heartbeat.
And his face had begun
to change.
Vincent stumbled upon
it by accident while exploring his territory. A small, circular paved
space, clean—too clean for this place. A white slab, cracked in
places but clearly artificial, geometric, right in the center of the
twisted forest. And there, frozen like an abandoned statue, was an
[Agent].
Humanoid. Matte grey
body, no texture. A mask split vertically into two perfectly
symmetrical halves—zero expression, zero movement. It looked like a
forgotten mannequin, or a graphical bug that had taken form.
Vincent stopped a few
meters away, slightly wary. Something in the thing's absolute
stillness made him uneasy.
— Ah. Finally an
NPC? — he called out, forcing a casual tone. — You guys could've
shown up sooner, you know. I've killed like seven mobs and almost
died at spawn. Customer service zero-star.
The mask lit up. Not
gradually—instantly, as if someone had just flipped a switch
inside.
[Zone
Agent]
Active
Functions:
[Buy
/ Sell]
[Objectives]
[Techniques]
[Resurgence
Point]
A voice rang out.
Flat, synthetic, completely devoid of emotion. Not human. Not even
trying to imitate human.
— Welcome, irregular
echo.
Vincent frowned.
— Irregular what?
What kind of shitty nickname is that?
— Your profile is
non-compliant. Your progression is non-standard. You should not have
survived your first hostile encounter. Statistics gave you a 0.3%
chance of survival without equipment or active skills.
Pause. Silence
returned, thick and heavy. The [Agent]
didn't seem to judge—no need, the system already knew everything.
— But you did.
Vincent stood up a
little straighter, flattered despite himself. 0.3%.
That means I'm in the 0.3%. That means I'm special.
— You may register
this location as a [Resurgence
Point],
— the [Agent]
continued. — In the event of a fatal rupture, your echo will return
here. It is highly recommended.
Vincent accepted
without thinking. A sensation of brutal cold ran down his spine, as
if liquid nitrogen had just been injected into his vertebrae. The
slab beneath his feet vibrated softly.
[Resurgence
Point Activated]
[Coordinates
Recorded]
[Estimated
Reconstruction: 47 seconds]
He opened the sell
interface—finally, something familiar, something normal, like a
video game. Fragments, flesh, dried blood. He sold it all without
checking the prices. 49 credits appeared in his inventory. Not much,
but enough.
He browsed the
available options—few, all basic, all expensive for what they were.
He bought [Regeneration
Stimulation]
for 30 credits and kept the rest. He'd already unlocked [Feral
Leap]
and [Predatory
Bite]
through use, but [Regeneration
Stimulation]
was something new—it would let him activate his HP Stock for
continuous healing in combat.
Smart buy.
Tactical investment. This is how you optimize.
The [Agent]
remained silent, motionless, staring at Vincent's dirty-white mask.
Vincent cleared his throat and tried a question:
— I don't have a
class. Well, it says [???].
Is that normal?
The [Agent]
paused. Long. Too long. As if consulting a forbidden database.
— You have one. It
is not public. To other players, you are displayed as [Brawler].
Unarmed fighter. Generic. Uninteresting.
Vincent grimaced, or
rather, the mouth-hole of his mask twitched downward.
— But internally,
you are classified as [Wìdjigò-Phase].
Your body is adapting through organic absorption. Your
consciousness... may follow this adaptation, if it does not fracture
first.
Vincent blinked.
— That's pretty
badass, right? Like... a secret werewolf type? A hidden class? Is it
rare?
— It is a unique
class. Only one player at a time can claim it. Extremely rare—exactly
0.02% of users. And highly unstable. The completion rate is 4%. The
others undergo irreversible psychic fragmentation before reaching
[Level 15].
Vincent smiled, his
mask's holes seeming to gleam with satisfaction as he completely
ignored the second part of the sentence.
— I knew it. I was
chosen. I glitched the system. I'm a voluntary anomaly. A feature,
not a bug.
The [Agent]
didn't reply. There was nothing to reply to.
Vincent pushed, pumped
up now:
— And... clothes?
Can I get some armor? Because being naked is a bit... you know.
— You may equip
armor. You will lose it. With every partial transformation, your body
rejects rigid structures. Only loose and non-constricting clothing
persists. From [Level
12]
onward, if you succeed in the [Rune-Weaver]
quest, you may engrave runic symbols directly into your skin. Magical
tattoos. Resistant to transformations.
Vincent's mask seemed
to shift with pleasure at the thought.
— Badass. I'm gonna
have skills literally engraved in my skin. Like a true sigma. Like a
late-game boss.
The [Agent]
offered no comment. It simply stood there, grey and motionless, as
Vincent walked away with his new skill and his inflated ego.
Vincent left the
clearing feeling vindicated, special, chosen. The [Agent]
watched him go with its expressionless split mask, and said nothing
about the 96% failure rate, about the psychic fragmentation, about
what came next.
The forest had other
opinions, but it kept them to itself.