Rob saw stars for the first time in this morning-felled world.

  Sprawled on top of the black hill, his only fear before blacking out was that those despicable corpses might steal his hard-earned cards.

  Fortunately, he hadn’t been unconscious for long. When he awoke a moment later, chest heaving, ears ringing, he could still hear the fading thunder of the rolling rock below.

  At first, Rob could barely move a muscle. Pain crashed over him in waves so fierce that even breathing felt unbearable. After a minute or two, the worst of it receded, leaving behind only a deep, echoing ache that settled in his bones.

  Slowly, he pushed himself up, supporting most of his weight on his hands until he managed to sit upright without falling back.

  “This should at least give me a concussion, right?”

  Rob grunted as he rubbed the back of his head. Fully expecting his fingers to come away slick with blood. Therefore, he was incredulous when they came back clean of any red.

  After a while, he was in complete disbelief and shock.

  “Unbelievable. This is unbelievable,” he kept repeating as he found himself able to stand—and even move—a short time later.

  Rob was an athlete. A professional one, if he might say so himself. And athletes were the most knowledgeable people, after doctors, about the limits of the human body, especially when that body was their own.

  Therefore, he was certain: he shouldn’t be this well, not this soon.

  Back in the day, such a fall would have left him lying on the ground for no less than half an hour. Even then, he wouldn’t have entertained the mad idea of standing up and walking on his own. He would’ve waited for a stretcher to carry him to the medical room, where he’d stay recuperating there for at least two hours.

  But now… now he was already walking. Running, even, as he made his way to collect his beloved cards.

  Soon, he arrived at a breathtaking sight. From the hilltop, he looked down upon the glowing, coiling mist below.

  Cards had already begun to form. some materialled near the front, others still crystallizing into reality farther back.

  “So many,” He rasped.

  Rob wasn’t na?ve. He understood that energy cards were valued like gold in this world, perhaps even more.

  He also highly doubted it was easy to gather such numbers. On top of that, acquiring those cards surely came with their own worth of danger, especially if they only dropped after killing monsters.

  Of course, there was another way: to be given by the System—but he didn’t expect the System to be that generous.

  All this to say, Rob was now very, very rich.

  Whistling, he picked up the cards one by one, a grin spreading across his face. But after a moment, he realized this was going to take far too long. Worse yet, the sight of so many energy cards might attract more of those dead things. The last few stragglers had already turned over, hungrily crawling toward his precious loot.

  Desperate, he sprinted toward the center of the massacre. Raising his hand, he communicated his intent to the system.

  “Recall all,” he said aloud for good measure.

  And it worked.

  The fully formed cards shot upward from the ground in a storm of mist and light, swirling into his waiting hand. Even the ones that finished forming moments later didn’t linger; they joined the others instantly, leaping toward him in streaks of brilliance.

  When it was all over, Rob saw the scene for what it truly was.

  Body parts littered the ground. Crushed heads spilled brain matter. The guts of the fallen corpses were spread so wide they seemed to carpet the land for miles.

  He didn’t vomit, not this time. He’d seen enough gore to last a lifetime. It barely affected him anymore. Still, he felt no comfort standing there longer than he had to.

  So, he took his bounty and left. He didn’t even finish off the last few strugglers as he’d first intended.

  Back at his resting place, Rob soon forgot all about the gruesome scene as he excitedly began to count and assess his enormous gains.

  Before long, a very happy young man could be seen dancing and jumping like a little kid, screaming with joy.

  “Seventy-three!” Rob sang the number again and again until his throat went sore.

  He’d collected seventy-three cards in total, amounting to roughly four hundred and fifty points of energy.

  Just eleven Energy points were enough for him to fully fill his energy bar.

  This meant he wouldn’t be short of energy for a very long time.

  A very long time of uninterrupted training. Time that he wouldn’t need to go out and hunt those smelly, horrible corpses.

  And best of all, he expected to be off this damned island before even a half of those cards were used

  Soon, he calmed down and went to refill his energy bar.

  “Strange… why is it so low?” he said in confusion, noticing his reserves were far below what he usually allowed himself.

  “Anyway, let’s fill this bar all the way up,” he said, laughing. “Energy isn’t going to be a problem anytime soon.”

  And without wasting another second, Rob returned to his training routine.

  Time passed, and Rob continued training diligently.

  He never stopped, never faltered for a moment, and with every passing second he could feel his chances of crossing that black sea safely rising.

  The only thing that dampened his mood was the bird, which seemed to be giving him the cold shoulder.

  Again, Rob wasn’t even sure of this, as usual with everything that had to do with that strange bird. But since he hadn’t heeded its warning and had risked confronting all those corpses, he could feel the creature growing distant.

  He was sure the bird had been helping him with the more advanced parts of his power. for example, the control of that magnetic force he could barely notice.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  And since his disagreement with the bird, Rob could sense a lack that hadn’t been there before whenever he activated his powers. Clearly, it was the bird’s way of showing its anger.

  This didn’t affect him much, though, and he kept training as usual.

  Still, he tried to make it up to the little bird. He explained that all was safe and that they couldn’t waste the chance when that small horde of corpses was so close to the rock. He insisted that if they had taken the safer way, they might have been stuck on this island for years.

  But the bird never listened. It didn’t see reason. It just kept to itself and didn’t communicate with Rob again.

  Until one day it did. And how he wished it didn’t had to.

  A jolt of fatal danger launched Rob explosively out of his half-sleep. He didn’t speak, nor did he have time to. The instant he was half-conscious, he reacted.

  Magnet pushing high into the air, Rob tried to escape, to fly away before it was too late.

  On time, yet still too late, he saw the rusty knife that had been about to plunge into his neck go backward as he shot upward. But he hadn’t gone far before he watched half of that same cursed blade disappear into his body, its other half reddening with his own blood.

  He felt detached from reality. He’d just taken a knife to the gut—and it didn’t hurt. In fact, he felt nothing. Nothing except the faint sensation of cold air seeping into his body through a hole that was never meant to exist in his stomach.

  Rob shivered. The first drops of his warm crimson blood bloomed around the blade of the knife, its heat sharply contrasting with the chill leaking into his insides.

  The next few moments happened so fast that he didn’t even register his actions until long afterward.

  Letting the primal instinct of the bird within him take control, Rob lashed out like a wounded beast. His hands came alive—half-formed talons slashing downward to sever the pale wrist twisting the knife in his intestines, the other hand beheading his attacker in a flash of bluish light.

  Then, foolishly, he yanked the knife from the gaping wound, flinging it aside as he tried to cover the gushing blood with trembling fingers.

  Another jolt of danger reminded him he wasn’t safe yet. Rob frantically looked around but saw no other assailants in the small chasm.

  Then what? Why was the bird so frantic? Where was the danger? The thoughts looped endlessly in his mind.

  Rob didn’t doubt the bird. He couldn’t afford to. Yet still, he saw nothing. Nothing at all.

  Then he understood.

  He was relying on his eyes. He slabbed himself mentally for not closing those useless things sooner. Focusing instead on his magnetic sense, he immediately felt the swift, rushing dots that was unaffected by his magnetic power.

  Fear and helplessness surged through him, flowing side by side with his blood—one pumped by his own heart, the other coming from the mythical bird living inside it.

  And Rob couldn’t credit all the dread to the bird alone. He was terrified as well. Those approaching weren’t the witless, stupid, crawling corpses. No, these moved much faster. They had weapons, and they knew how to use them.

  He fled.

  He didn’t wait. He didn’t count how many were coming. He followed the escape path he’d prepared for just such a case and ran as far as his magnetic power would carry him.

  ***

  “why the hill haven’t I died yet?”

  Rob said to the silence. there were no one to answer and even if there were, his voice was so week to be heard that calling what came out of his mouth a whisper was a great honor to the words.

  Shirtless, He walked or imitated walking. his skin was sickly pale, his face was colorless, frozen on an grimacing expression. Rob assumed that he didn’t look that different from those moving corpses. He was dead in all but the feeble, stubborn breath coming and leaving his longs.

  No that was wrong. Not just his dam breath was stubborn. All of him was a complication and gathering of one stubborn mis called Robert Wilson.

  His heart that doggedly kept pumping blood when most of the red liquid went out of his body. His tenacious longues that didn’t stop sucking in air even when his brain refused to work. his determined feet that always found enough energy to jump and run whenever those Whild threadeyes closed in on his location.

  He took a few staggering Stibbs forward. He shouldn’t be walking but stopping meant death. Walking also meant death but at least it would be the end he chose, not one he waited for .

  A while back, Rob had fled as long as adrenaline and stubbornness allowed him to ignore the open wound in his stomach. Still hoping that not all was lost. Still believing that he could recover and then escape this hellish island. It would be a bit earlier than he would be comfortable with, but there was no other option.

  But then

  His boiling blood cooled. His frantic brain calmed down. And most importantly of all , the profound fear and the dread looming over his heart had gradually dissipated.

  After that all the pain, the understanding, the faintness, al of it came crashing down on him, crushing him physically, mentally and spiritually.

  The wound felt like a living fire in his guts. The excessive loss of blood left him half blind, his head hurting with the weight of a thought. And most painful of all, the understanding of the grave, unrepairable mistakes he made.

  That accident could have gone much, much better. When he reviewed all that happened with Frozen Light, it all was so obvious .

  The first mistake he made back then was that he didn’t check his surrounding with magnetic sense. But no, he didn’t. he instead leaped like a clown in the air, offering his entire body as a wide, inviting, attackable target.

  He could have ducked, blocked , dropped or so many other response that wouldn’t end with him stabbed in the neck nor the guts.

  And then cowardness was his second mistake. He was so frightened, so mentally paralyzed because that some unknown things had attacked his base in a grave island when he convensed himself that it had only midnelss, dret crawling corpses.

  He played the coward so well that he didn’t even dare to count his aggressor’s. he just ran.

  And this was his final and dooming mistake. He chose a random direction , not noticing at all that he was damm running deeper into the abhord island.

  To tope it of, he had no shred of mind or reason to stop as soon as possible to holt the bleeding that, inadition to weekening him, kept a clear pass to his location.

  So back and there, Rob fully realized that his chances of survival hadn’t been any lower.

  Knowing that, Rob had a choice to made. To wait and fight, gaining a clean fast death as a result.

  Or

  To keep running, playing with fate a deadly game. To gample on his luck to find an impossible, uncomprehensible miracle

  And the wager wouldn’t be just his life. No that was forsaken in both cases. The price of failure would be a dragged, slow, very painful demise.

  When he closed his eyes, he leaned more toward the first choice. He had been a coward enough for a life time. He should accept his end like a rial man. He would die one day so why make it more painful than it already was.

  Just wait. Make an ambush,kill a few of the threadeye dogs and pay the bastards back then die without regrets. Just like he always lived .

  But then, he couldn’t resist a last look. A final good bye he claimed. He returned back on this dinner table. Gazed his family the dearest and closest to his heart and he wavered.

  Rob snaped his eyes open, resolve hardening and glowing in his irises.

  He made a promise and he would never break it willingly.

  “I will be back.”

  After that Rob didn’t waist any time. Clumsily, he used his upper clothe to bandge and cover his glaring wound as good as his mild medilic knowledge of first aid helped him.

  Then, he took off. moving from place to place, only resting when he felt strictly necessary. And those moving corpses were always behind him. always in his wake. One time they got alarmingly close that Rob was finally able to examen one of them directly and without the fog of pain and fear.

  They didn’t differ that Mutch from the other crawling wobbling corpses. They just looked much, much adapted and skillful in controlling their bodies. Yet seemed well equipped… comparing to their naked, young seedlings, the rusted blades and the sharp rocks they held could be concedered well-aquept.

  And of course there marking trait which Rob had named them after. They had a black thin threads coming out of their eyes, dangling halfway to their pale bloodless cheeks.

  The hunt circled like this. Rob would use a full charge of his energy to make as much distance between himself and the threadeyes. Then, he would find a palce to recover for a short while before the sleeky bastard would get nearer again and restart the chase.

  By such way, he managed to avaid their grasp for a moment, but it was no use when rob could feel the rope tightening around his neck. He was losing in this game of hide and seek and all the player knew it.

  Rob believed he wouldn’t lost long. Dispite all his determination and resolution, he knew that his condition was worsening. The wound will not get any better magically. And while he had a very pleasant surprise with how the energy cards seemed to help to replenish his lost blood and help inforce his body a little, he lost blood and hurt and damdged his body way faster then any thing noticeable to appear.

  No later then he made all those realization, hefound himself having to take another choice.

  He stood before an opening-like will in the ground, peering down at the darkness within. It was the first of its kind he had seen on this hellish island.

  The island, in fact, was almost amti from any geographical features. No caves to hide in, no mountings to climb and disappear behind, nor a forest to vinsh between iits ltrees.

  And now, he found this. An opening that seemed some kind an inters to what appeared to be a network of underground tunnels and channels.

  The choice, was it better to take the risk of finding more horrors jumping down and hoping that he could hide longer underground than above it. or he ignore it and move on.

  Rob didn’t think for a moment, he jumped wright through, his silhouette fully swallowed by the darkness beneath.