---

  The teleportation station was nothing like I expected.

  After a lifetime of science fiction movies and books, I'd imagined something dramatic—crackling energy, swirling portals, machines that hummed with barely contained power. Instead, the Genesis City Teleportation Hub looked almost mundane. A massive circur building with clean white walls and long corridors lined with numbered doors. People moved through it with the casual efficiency of commuters catching a train.

  Lena had walked with me part of the way, expining the basics between bites of a synthetic protein bar she'd pulled from her pocket.

  "The hub handles thousands of teleportations every day," she'd said, gesturing with the half-eaten bar. "Hunters going to Verdant, traders moving goods between colonies, officials traveling for work. It's routine. Boring, even."

  "Boring," I repeated. "Teleportation to another world is boring."

  "Wait until you've done it fifty times." She'd stopped at the entrance to the hub, not willing to go further. "Gate 47-C. Tell the technician you're a first-timer. They'll walk you through it." She'd given me a long look, something almost like concern in her eyes. "Kaelen. The original Kaelen—he was a Basic Evolver. Nothing special. But he'd survived on Verdant for months before... whatever happened. If he couldn't make it, that means something out there is dangerous even by Verdant standards. Be careful."

  I'd nodded, thanked her, and walked into the hub alone.

  ---

  Gate 47-C was at the end of a long corridor, marked by a simple digital dispy: VERDANT - ENTRY POINT 7 - SAFE ZONE - NOVICE HUNTERS RECOMMENDED. The door was open, revealing a small circur room with a ptform in the center and a technician at a control console.

  The technician was a middle-aged man with tired eyes and the bored expression of someone who'd done the same job for too long. He barely gnced up as I entered.

  "First time?"

  "Is it that obvious?"

  "Everyone asks." He gestured to the ptform. "Step on. Stand still. You'll feel a moment of disorientation—some nausea, maybe. That's normal. The portal will deposit you at Entry Point 7 on Verdant. It's a safe zone with walls and guards. Don't leave the safe zone on your first day. Just... observe. Get used to the gravity, the air, the sounds. Then, if you're feeling brave, take a short walk into the forest. But stay within sight of the walls."

  I stepped onto the ptform. Gripped the knife at my belt—the only weapon I had, the only thing standing between me and whatever waited on the other side. Took a deep breath.

  "Anything else I should know?"

  The technician finally looked up, his eyes meeting mine. "Yeah. Don't drink the water. Don't touch anything that looks pretty. And if you hear something that sounds like a person calling for help, run the other direction. The things in that forest are good at mimicking human voices."

  He pressed a button.

  The world folded.

  There's no better word for it. Not movement, but compression—like my entire body was being squeezed through a space that shouldn't exist. For one terrible second, I felt like I was everywhere and nowhere at once, my consciousness stretched thin across an impossible distance.

  Then it stopped.

  I was standing on grass that glowed faintly blue. Above me, a sky of deep purple stretched endlessly, with two suns—one yellow, one red—hanging near the horizon. The air was thick and humid, carrying scents I couldn't identify: sweet and sharp and something almost metallic. And in front of me, less than a hundred meters away, a wall of crimson stretched in both directions as far as I could see.

  The Crimson Forest.

  It was beautiful in a way that made my chest ache. The trees were massive—hundreds of feet tall—with bark that looked almost scaled and leaves the color of fresh blood. They caught the light of the twin suns and scattered it in patterns that shifted and danced. Vines hung between them like curtains, some covered in flowers that pulsed with soft bioluminescence. The ground was carpeted with moss that seemed to glow faintly, lighting the way into the depths.

  And the sounds—a constant chorus of calls and cries and rustlings that came from everywhere at once. Some were musical, almost beautiful. Others raised the hair on my arms, carrying notes of threat and hunger that transcended species.

  I stood there, gaping, until a voice broke through my stupor.

  "First-timer?"

  I turned. A woman leaned against the inner wall of the safe zone, watching me with amused eyes. She was maybe thirty, with the lean build of someone who'd spent years in hard environments. Scarred armor covered her torso, and a massive bde rested against the wall beside her. Her linker fshed with information I couldn't read from this distance.

  "That obvious?" I said.

  "Everyone has the same look." She pushed off the wall and walked closer, moving with the easy grace of a predator. "First hour on a new world. The beauty, the danger, the realization that everything out there wants to kill you. It's a lot."

  She stopped a few feet away, studying me with frank curiosity.

  "Name's Vera. Evolved Evolver, three years on Verdant." She nodded toward my knife. "That's what you're pnning to hunt with?"

  "It's what they gave me."

  "Sanctuary steel. Not bad for Basic creatures. Won't break, stays sharp. But against anything Evolved or higher..." She shrugged. "Might as well be a butter knife."

  "What do you use?"

  She patted the massive bde. "Superior-rank beast soul. Sand Wyrm Fang. Tier 4. Took me six months to save up for it." She grinned at my expression. "Yeah, beast souls are the real treasure here. The meat gives you gene points—that's how you evolve. But beast souls? Those are power you can keep. Weapons, armor, pets, skills. They carry over to new pnets. A hunter with good souls can punch way above their weight css."

  I filed that information away. "How do you get them?"

  "Luck, mostly. Every creature has a small chance to drop its soul when you eat its heart. The rank matches the creature—Basic, Evolved, Superior, Prime, Legend. But the tier is random. Could be Tier 1, could be Tier 6. A lucky Tier 6 Basic soul can be as good as a Tier 1 Evolved." She shook her head. "I've seen beginners get god-tier drops on their first hunt. I've seen veterans go years without a single good soul. It's all chance."

  "And the creatures? What should I watch for?"

  Vera's expression turned serious. "In the Crimson Forest, your biggest threats are Stalkers. They're Basic creatures, mostly—pack hunters, fast, smart. A single Stalker isn't too dangerous if you're careful. But a pack of five or six? Even Evolved hunters have died to Stalker packs." She pointed toward the forest. "Stay on the edge today. Don't go deep. Watch for movement in the trees—they're good at hiding. And if you hear growling from multiple directions at once, run back to the wall as fast as you can."

  "What else?"

  "Gloomwings. Big bats, blind, hunt by echolocation. They come out at night mostly, but you'll see them in deep shade during the day. If one finds you, stay still. They can't see you, but they'll hear movement. Thornbacks—those are the spiky ones. Don't get close. They shoot their spines. Decent range, decent accuracy. If you see one, give it space."

  She picked up her bde, ready to move on.

  "Any advice for a complete beginner?" I asked.

  Vera paused, considering. "Yeah. Don't be a hero. Your first hunt, your only goal is to survive. Kill one Stalker if you can. Butcher it. Eat the meat. Get your first gene points. Then go back to the safe zone and rest. Do that every day for a month, and maybe you'll live long enough to become an Evolved." She walked toward the forest's edge. "I'll be out there if you need help. But don't count on it. In the forest, everyone's responsible for themselves."

  She stepped past the boundary and disappeared into the crimson shadows.

  I stood there for a long moment, gripping my knife, staring at the wall of trees.

  Then I followed her.

  ---

  The moment I crossed the boundary, everything changed.

  The air grew heavier, thicker, pressing against my skin like a living thing. The sounds that had seemed distant from the safe zone now surrounded me—calls and cries and rustlings that came from every direction. The light shifted, filtered through countless yers of crimson leaves, casting everything in shades of red and orange that made my eyes ache.

  I moved slowly, carefully, every sense stretched to its limit. Vera's words echoed in my mind: Watch for movement. They're good at hiding.

  The forest floor was soft underfoot, carpeted with that glowing moss. It made no sound as I walked—a small mercy. I stayed close to the wall, never letting it out of sight. The safe zone was only a few hundred meters behind me, but it felt like a different world entirely.

  For an hour, I saw nothing. Just trees and vines and flowers that seemed to watch me as I passed. Small creatures scurried in the undergrowth—things the size of rats with too many legs—but they fled before I could get a good look. Once, something rge crashed through the trees to my left, too fast to see, and my heart nearly stopped. But it moved away, not toward me, and after a long minute of frozen terror, I kept moving.

  Then I found the tracks.

  They were pressed into the moss—three-toed prints, each the size of my hand, leading deeper into the forest. Fresh. The moss was still springing back where the weight had lifted.

  Stalker tracks.

  I knelt, studying them. The prints were evenly spaced, suggesting a walking pace, not running. One creature, not a pack. Heading away from the wall, not toward it.

  A solo Stalker. Heading deeper.

  Don't be a hero, Vera had said. Your only goal is to survive.

  I looked at the tracks. Looked at the wall behind me, still visible through the trees. Looked at the knife in my hand.

  Then I started following.

  ---

  Twenty minutes ter, I found it.

  The Stalker was crouched beside a small stream, drinking. It was about a meter long, half a meter at the shoulder—smaller than I'd expected from Vera's descriptions. Its body was covered in scales that shifted color as it moved, blending with the crimson surroundings. A long tail twitched behind it, and cws the length of my fingers extended from each foot.

  It hadn't noticed me yet.

  I crouched behind a massive root, watching, my heart hammering so loud I was sure it would hear. The knife felt absurdly small in my hand. One Stalker, Vera had said. Basic creature. Not too dangerous if you're careful.

  Careful. I could do careful.

  I studied the creature's movements. It drank in long, slow sips, its head lowering to the water every few seconds. Its tail twitched constantly—a nervous habit, or a warning? Its ears—if those triangur things on its head were ears—swiveled independently, tracking sounds I couldn't hear.

  It was alert. Aware. But it hadn't sensed me yet.

  I needed a pn. Charging in would get me killed. The Stalker was faster, stronger, built for killing. I was a office worker from 2024 with a knife and no combat training.

  But I had something the Stalker didn't.

  I had patience.

  I waited.

  The Stalker finished drinking and lifted its head, scanning the area. Its eyes passed over my hiding spot without pausing. After a long moment, it turned and began walking upstream, following the water.

  I followed.

  For another hour, I trailed the creature, staying far back, using the trees and undergrowth for cover. I watched how it moved—the way it tested the air with its tongue, the way its tail signaled its mood, the way it occasionally stopped to scratch at trees with those deadly cws. I learned its patterns, its rhythms, its moments of alertness and rexation.

  Then, as the twin suns began to sink toward the horizon, it found a spot to rest.

  A small clearing beside the stream, sheltered by overhanging vines. The Stalker circled twice, then curled up in the center, its head on its paws, its tail still twitching even in rest.

  It was going to sleep.

  I waited another thirty minutes, until its breathing deepened and the tail finally stilled. Then, moving with a care I didn't know I possessed, I began to circle the clearing.

  The approach took forever. Every step was measured, tested, pced with agonizing slowness. A snapped twig would end everything. A rustle of leaves would wake it. One mistake, and I'd be fighting a cornered predator in the dark.

  But I didn't make mistakes.

  I reached the edge of the clearing, ten meters from the sleeping creature. The knife was slick in my sweating palm. The Stalker's neck was exposed, rising and falling with each breath. One clean strike, if I could get close enough. One chance.

  I took a step into the clearing.

  The Stalker's eye opened.

  It happened in an instant—one second it was sleeping, the next it was on its feet, spinning toward me, a snarl ripping from its throat. I saw its muscles bunch, saw it preparing to spring—

  And something inside me snapped.

  Time seemed to slow. The Stalker's movement became a crawl—I could see each individual muscle contracting, see the exact angle of its leap, see the precise spot where its neck would be as it came toward me. My body moved without conscious thought, stepping forward instead of back, bringing the knife up in a arc that felt rehearsed.

  The Stalker lunged. I sidestepped. The knife found its throat.

  We hit the ground together, the creature's weight pinning me, its cws raking uselessly at my chest as life faded from its eyes. Hot blood poured over my hands, my arms, my face. The snarl became a gurgle, then a whimper, then silence.

  I y there for a long moment, pinned beneath a dead predator, struggling to breathe.

  Then the warmth in my chest fred.

  It spread through my body like fire—not painful, but intense, overwhelming. My muscles twitched. My vision blurred. And suddenly I knew, with a certainty I couldn't expin, what I had to do.

  I pushed the Stalker's body off me. Drew the knife. And began to cut.

  ---

  Butchering a creature is messy work.

  I'd never done anything like it—never even hunted in my old life. But my hands moved with a confidence that wasn't mine, guided by something I didn't understand. I cut away the hide, exposed the muscle beneath, carved out portions of meat that steamed in the cooling air.

  And when I found the heart—pierced by my bde, still warm—I hesitated.

  Eat it, something whispered. This is how you evolve.

  I brought the heart to my lips and bit down.

  The taste was indescribable—metallic and rich and somehow electric. It tingled on my tongue, spread through my mouth, down my throat, into my stomach. And then the warmth in my chest exploded outward, flooding every cell of my body with power I could feel but not name.

  My vision flickered. Text appeared—floating in the air in front of me, glowing faintly gold:

  [BASIC GENE POINTS ABSORBED: +3]

  [Current Basic Gene Points: 3/100]

  [BEAST SOUL DETECTED]

  [Stalker Cws (Basic Rank, Tier 4) acquired.]

  [Do you wish to equip?]

  I stared at the text, heart pounding. A beast soul. On my first kill. Tier 4—not the best, but far from the worst.

  Equip, I thought.

  Warmth gathered in my hands. When I looked down, my fingers were sheathed in translucent cws—faint, barely visible, but definitely there. I flexed my hand, and the cws flexed with me.

  [Stalker Cws (Basic Rank, Tier 4) equipped.]

  [Effect: +4 to cw-type attack damage. Minor bleeding effect on successful hits.]

  I dismissed them with a thought, and they faded.

  For a long moment, I just sat there in the gathering darkness, surrounded by the remains of my first kill, trying to process what had just happened. The Stalker. The fight. The moment time slowed. The warmth in my chest. The beast soul.

  Something was different about me. Something beyond the transmigration, beyond waking up in a stranger's body. The warmth—whatever it was—had been with me since I woke up. Waiting. Watching.

  And now it had saved my life.

  I looked at the remaining meat. Enough for several meals—several more gene points. But night was falling, and Vera had warned about Gloomwings.

  I gathered what I could carry, wrapped it in the Stalker's hide, and began the long walk back to the wall.

  ---

  The safe zone was quiet when I returned. A few hunters sat around small fires, cooking meat and talking in low voices. Vera was among them—she looked up as I approached, and her eyes widened.

  "You actually killed one."

  I dropped the wrapped meat beside her fire. "Is there somewhere I can cook this?"

  She stared at the bundle, then at me. "That's a lot of meat for one Stalker."

  "I butchered the whole thing. Didn't want to waste."

  "You butchered—" She shook her head, ughing. "Kid, most first-timers don't even get close enough to throw a stone at a Stalker. You killed one, butchered it, and carried the meat back before dark." She gestured to the fire. "Sit. Cook. Tell me how you did it."

  I sat, pulling out pieces of meat and finding sticks to skewer them. The other hunters around the fire watched with new interest—not hostile, but assessing. Sizing me up.

  "I followed it for an hour," I said. "Learned its patterns. Waited until it slept. Then I..." I hesitated. How to expin the moment time slowed? The impossible precision of my strike?

  "Then you got lucky," a man across the fire said. He was older, scarred, with the look of someone who'd seen too much. "Nothing wrong with luck. But don't count on it."

  "Rikkard's right." Vera poked the fire with a stick. "Luck works until it doesn't. You need skill, experience, good souls. That one kill won't make you a hunter."

  "I know." I turned my skewers, watching the meat sizzle. "But it's a start."

  Rikkard snorted. "A start. Kid's got ambition." He pulled a fsk from his belt and drank. "We'll see if he's still alive in a month."

  The meat cooked quickly, releasing a rich aroma that made my stomach growl. When it was done, I ate hungrily, feeling the warmth spread through my body with each bite. My linker updated silently:

  [Basic Gene Points: +1]

  [Basic Gene Points: +1]

  [Basic Gene Points: +1]

  By the time I finished, I had 12 Basic points. Twelve percent of the way to my first evolution.

  I leaned back, staring at the stars—different consteltions than any I'd known, strange and beautiful—and felt something I hadn't expected.

  Hope.

  This world was dangerous. Deadly. Every creature wanted to kill me, and most of them could. But for the first time since waking up in that hospital, I had a path forward. A way to grow stronger. A purpose.

  Hunt. Eat. Evolve.

  And somewhere in the depths of this pnet, maybe—just maybe—I'd find answers about the warmth in my chest. About what happened to the original Kaelen. About the things he'd seen in the deep caves.

  But that was for ter. For now, I had twelve gene points, a Tier 4 beast soul, and a forest full of creatures waiting to be hunted.

  I smiled in the darkness.

  Let's see how far I can go.

  ---

  END OF CHAPTER 2

  ---

  [STATUS UPDATE]

  · Gene Points: 12/100 Basic

  · Evolution Tier: Basic Evolver (Candidate)

  · Beast Souls: Stalker Cws (Basic Rank, Tier 4)

  · Days on Verdant: 1

  [Next Chapter: Chapter 3 - First Lessons]