Morning light seeped slowly into the cave, pale and thin. I woke to it in pieces, my eyes catching on the dust drifting through the beam—tiny particles glinting where the sun peeked in past the entrance.

  Then a howl brushed through the cave.

  Not loud. Barely more than a distant pull of sound.

  But it felt familiar.

  In that half-awake haze, I couldn’t tell if I’d really heard it or if my mind was dragging the memory of it into my sleep.

  Then claws scraped lightly against stone.

  That was enough.

  Dream or not, I forced myself awake.

  I woke up fully in the small corner I’d tucked myself into and looked toward the cave entrance.

  Morning light spread across the cave floor—then shifted. A darker shadow started to form across it, small at first, then growing.

  At first I couldn’t make out the shape—the angle of the sun turned it into nothing but a dark silhouette. But the shadow kept growing, then split—multiple shapes now, each moving a little differently from the others.

  I looked toward the nest.

  The mother bird, who’d been afraid of me before, was now staring at the cave entrance with a different kind of fear.

  The scrape of something solid against the cave floor started to echo, like whatever had been blocking the sun had now stepped fully inside.

  As the scraping drew closer, low growls followed with it—the kind of sound made through bared teeth. The mother bird stepped back toward the nest at once, putting herself in front of the eggs.

  Some of the hatchlings had opened further overnight and were now screaming into the cave—whether for food or survival, I couldn’t tell.

  A few seconds passed, and the shadows pushed further into the cave until most of the sunlight was blocked out.

  As the bodies came closer, the scraping grew clearer. When they passed my hiding place, I pressed myself tighter to the inner wall, making sure there was nothing of me left to see at all.

  I could see them clearly now.

  Wolves.

  Low growls rolled off them as they moved, fur shifting faintly where the cave’s breeze touched it. They passed well beyond my hiding place and kept going toward the nest, not giving so much as a glance in my direction.

  That felt lucky. In a temporary kind of way.

  Once they’d moved deeper in, I eased forward and peeked out a little more.

  Three of them.

  And none of them carried the same weight as the one that had brought the ledge down.

  This was my chance to leave cleanly.

  I slipped out of my hiding place and started toward the cave entrance, keeping my body low and my face turned toward the wolves the whole time. If one of them moved, I didn’t want to be caught looking the wrong way.

  They were already closing in on the nest.

  The mother bird had shrunk all the way back into it, practically folding herself around the eggs and hatchlings. The babies had gone quieter now—not calm, just small in the face of something bigger than them.

  I kept moving.

  Almost at the entrance, I let my focus slip for half a second and looked back toward the nest.

  The mother bird wasn’t watching the wolves.

  It was looking straight at me.

  And in that look, I felt it—desperation. Raw and helpless in a way that hit somewhere ugly inside me. Not like my parents. They hadn’t even had time for that.

  Then I looked at the hatchlings.

  Still. Silent. Pressed into the nest like they already understood that moving wouldn’t save them.

  And just like that, I was looking at my own nest again.

  If I left now, they’d die the same way mine had.

  My body stalled on that thought, like it had sunk in deeper than I wanted to admit. I let out a slow breath, and for once it felt like my body and I had reached the same conclusion.

  …Fine.

  I slipped out of the cave and saw the aftermath of the collapse properly for the first time. Stones and broken chunks of earth were scattered everywhere, the ground still looking like it had only just stopped moving.

  I picked up a rock.

  The regret came immediately. I already knew I was about to do something stupid.

  Then I turned and moved back inside.

  The wolves were edging closer to the nest.

  I lifted my stubby arm and threw the rock.

  It left my hand with all the menace of a bad idea. For one brief second it looked like it might actually go where I wanted—then gravity remembered me. The stone dropped hard, hit the cave floor, and started bouncing.

  Once. Twice.

  Each bounce echoed louder than it had any right to in the cave.

  By the time it reached the wolves, it had lost all dignity.

  On the last little hop, it tapped the back wolf’s leg with almost polite uselessness.

  Lesson learned I can’t throw.

  The wolves turned one by one, their growls rising with them and echoing through the cave. When the third wolf—the one closest to the nest—looked at me, I saw its eyes sharpen.

  Its focus narrowed onto me harder than the others, like it had found something it recognized.

  The third wolf pushed past the other two, saliva spilling from its mouth in thick strands. It gave a low howl, and the shift was immediate—the other two locked onto me with the same sharpened focus it had.

  I took a step back before my mind had even caught up.

  I knew that look now.

  I was about to be hunted.

  And by this point, some part of me had started to accept that, even if I still hated every second of it.

  The lead wolf took one step forward, and that was all it took.

  I turned and ran.

  The moment I moved, claws tore across the stone behind me—fast, violent, cutting into the cave floor with enough force that I could hear it clearly over my own panic. I’d barely made it a step before sunlight hit me full in the face, bright enough to blind me for half a heartbeat as I burst toward the entrance.

  And that gave me an idea.

  I shot out of the cave, saw the scattered stones from the collapsed ledge, and grabbed the biggest one I could manage. I hauled it in front of the entrance, my flesh strained hard enough that it felt like parts of me were starting to tear—but the adrenaline kept the pain just bearable—as the wolves closed in behind me.

  The lead wolf reached it first.

  It saw the obstacle too late. The light caught its eyes as it lunged, stealing just enough of its vision to ruin the jump. It half-cleared the stone, then smashed its hind legs into it and went down with a sharp whine.

  I didn’t stay to watch what the others did.

  I ran.

  Fallen logs and broken stone littered the ground outside, the whole area still wrecked from the collapse. Uprooted trees jutted out at bad angles, roots half-torn from the earth, and craters split the ground where rock had slammed down hard enough to leave scars.

  I leapt over what I could and cut around what I couldn’t.

  Behind me, I could already hear them coming.

  That stone at the entrance hadn’t stopped all of them. I hadn’t expected it to. It had just bought me a head start—enough time to think.

  The problem was, I had nothing. No plan. No clever idea. Just speed, panic, and the sound of wolves gaining behind me.

  I left the worst of the destroyed ground behind and pushed into the forest, where the trees looked mostly untouched. I weaved between trunks as the footfalls behind me grew louder, closer, more certain.

  Think of something.

  I forced the thought at myself, trying to drag my brain into usefulness.

  Then, through the trees, I heard it.

  Water.

  A faint splashy current off to my right. I glanced that way and caught the sun reflecting off a calm stretch of river—and an idea hit me fast enough to matter.

  I cut toward it.

  At the bank, I snatched up a small stone slick with overgrown moss and kept moving. The wolves were right behind me now, close enough that I could hear the scrape of their claws whenever they hit something solid.

  I jumped the river.

  Mid-air, I dropped the stone.

  It hit hard, splashing deep enough to send a heavy ripple rolling across the surface.

  As I kept running, something cut past my ear—a sound sharp enough to make me look before I thought.

  Water exploded behind me, followed by a wolf’s startled whine that was cut off almost as soon as it began.

  I turned my head just enough to look back, even though I knew that was stupid.

  All I saw were ripples breaking across the river—different from the ones I’d caused—and a faint wash of red starting to spread through the water.

  It felt like a win for about half a second.

  Then, with my head still turned, I saw another wolf clear the river untouched.

  Its eyes locked onto me—not just with the intent to chase, but with something uglier. Hunger. The kind that wanted me torn apart, not just dead.

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  I kept moving until the trees opened into a small clearing. Its breathing was close now, close enough that I could hear it catching the distance between us one stride at a time. It wasn’t going to take long. I needed something. Anything.

  I looked around desperately, my head snapping from one side to the other—and then something large cut into my vision.

  I focused on it.

  A tree.

  Big enough to rise above the surrounding canopy, its trunk thick and solid. Too much like the one I’d already slammed myself into.

  I almost dismissed it on instinct. Then the memory twisted into an idea.

  I slowed just enough to set it up. Survival wasn’t clean. It never had been. Sometimes the only difference between a plan and suicide was whether it worked.

  The wolf closed the gap immediately. A few more strides and it was nearly on me.

  I ran straight at the tree.

  Didn’t slow.

  Behind me, I could hear the shift in it—the burst of confidence, the way it thought it had me. I felt it getting ready to lunge before I even saw it, jaws opening wide enough that I knew if it got hold of me, that was it.

  I kicked one leg out and forced it onto the trunk.

  I hauled myself up into the second step almost immediately. That gave me just enough height.

  The wolf’s jaws snapped shut under me.

  Its eyes changed the moment it realized.

  It tried to turn, tried to save it, but momentum had already decided for both of us. Its side smashed into the tree hard enough to make the trunk shudder. The sound it made wasn’t a growl anymore. It was pain.

  I managed a third step. Then a fourth.

  And just like before, my balance started to go.

  I lost the fifth completely.

  I fell.

  But by then the wolf was already ruined—collapsed against the roots, coughing up blood so dark it painted the grass beneath it.

  I came down on top of it, bounced off its broken body, and rolled through dirt and loose branches. Leaves and twigs stuck to my skin as I skidded to a stop.

  As I lay there, a branch jabbed into me just enough to be annoying. I sat up and looked at the wolf.

  Nothing moved.

  It lay there completely still, and I knew it was dead before the System even chimed.

  You gain 40 EXP

  Level Up

  Level Up

  You have reached Level 9

  I looked intently at the message, like this was my reward for surviving. I stayed still for a moment, taking in where I was now, listening and waiting for any sign of movement before I let myself do anything else.

  I heard nothing. Just the faint breeze moving through the leaves.

  It felt oddly safe, and that made me slightly uncomfortable. But it was still better than being hunted through the forest.

  I exhaled deeply, finally letting some of the tension inside me start to slip away. Then I found my footing and stood up.

  I’m glad that worked.

  A small scoff slipped out at that.

  Then I turned my attention to the wolf’s body. This was the first time I’d had a real chance to try my new ability. I moved toward it slowly and asked a simple question.

  System, how do I use my ability?

  The response came sharp, like it had been waiting for me to ask.

  Make contact with the wolf. Focus on your inner energy and let it flow into the corpse until you feel a connection. Then say: Copy.

  That sounded somewhat simple. Also slightly complicated. I had no idea what it meant by inner energy.

  I approached the wolf anyway, and another question rose into my mind.

  How much MP does this ability cost?

  The System paused for only a brief second before answering.

  It heavily depends on the strength of the monster. The more powerful the monster, the more expensive the cost.

  I nodded as I wobbled closer to the body. That made sense to me.

  But as I approached, a System notification flashed in my vision.

  Mimic Copy

  I managed to open it with thought alone. Inside was one simple line:

  3 MP

  I frowned for a second before the meaning clicked.

  That’s how much it costs.

  I accepted it, even if it felt expensive for what MP I had.

  Then I knelt beside the wolf. I felt a little bad for it for a second.

  Then I remembered it had been about to kill innocent monsters. And me.

  In a way, it had earned this.

  I closed my eyes and reached a hand toward the wolf. Slowly, I brought it down until my palm touched its paw. It was cooler than I expected—enough to catch my attention—but I didn’t let it throw me off.

  I took a deep breath and tried to calm my body. Then I felt it. Something moving inside me. At first I thought it was blood, but I wasn’t even sure this body worked like that.

  So I followed it instead.

  I felt that circulation moving through me, and it seemed to be coming from one place inside my body—a source I couldn’t identify no matter how hard I tried. But once I noticed it, I could trace it. I followed the flow as it wound through me and made its way down toward my hand. When it reached the end of me, it passed into the wolf’s body—and for a brief moment I felt something connect between us.

  It was uncomfortable immediately. Wrong in a way I couldn’t explain. Like I was reaching into something I had no right to touch.

  But I kept going.

  As the flow continued, I felt the wolf’s coldness start to seep back into me, my own warmth pressing against it. The contrast felt unnatural, but this had to be what the System meant by a connection.

  Accepting that I was about to take something from a creature I’d killed was its own kind of threshold. Something in me had to agree to it.

  And when that thought settled, my body settled with it.

  The connection clicked into place.

  I exhaled slowly.

  “Copy.”

  As the word left my mouth, something pulsed inside me.

  The circulation that had been moving so carefully turned violent all at once, surging through me in wild waves. The balance between my warmth and the wolf’s cold snapped apart, and I felt it immediately—my body pulling, tearing, straining like the wolf’s energy was starting to outweigh mine.

  I had to focus. I had to control it.

  So I fought it.

  It felt like a battle happening inside my own body, my flow slamming against something foreign and vicious that refused to settle. My hands started to hurt the worst—like they were being pulled apart and forced back together at the same time, like something inside them was being rewritten faster than I could understand.

  Then, little by little, the violence started to ease.

  My own warmth pushed back.

  The flow steadied. Smoothed out. It was still there, still wrong, but the storm of it had passed.

  I opened my eyes and looked down at the hand touching the wolf’s paw. For a split second, something projected over it—longer, sharper, like the outline of the wolf’s claw layered over my own.

  Then it vanished.

  I only had a second to frown before the System chimed.

  Copy successful

  New Ability Acquired: Claw Slash

  I did it. Then I started reading what I’d actually copied.

  Claw Slash?

  What ability is that?

  Then my mind jumped back to the ledge—to the wolves slashing at the air and sending those attacks tearing toward me.

  Was that what they used?

  Interesting.

  Then the System lit up something new—this time under the name Claw Slash—and I opened it.

  Claw Slash:

  Creates a visible claw that disrupts the air and cuts through objects at range.

  Cost:

  2 MP per use.

  Side Effect:

  Your body is incompatible with this ability.

  Each use consumes ? of your remaining HP at the moment of activation.

  I stared at the last two lines.

  The description of Mimic Copy hadn’t been exaggerating when it mentioned side effects.

  That was extreme.

  I exhaled slowly. It was better than having nothing, sure—but one careless use and I could end up killing myself with my own ability.

  Then my attention caught on something else. My stats were glowing faintly in my vision, so I opened them.

  HP: 25 / 30

  MP: 4 / 7

  Attack: Lv.3

  Defense: Lv.2

  Speed: Lv.5

  Vitality: Lv.2

  Perception: Lv.3

  Resolve: Lv.3

  As my eyes moved down the list, the realization settled in.

  I could only use Claw Slash two more times for the rest of the day.

  That meant I’d have to be careful.

  As I was deep in studying my stats and my new ability, something rustled in the leaves behind me.

  I didn’t notice it at first. My mind was too distracted, too buried in numbers and survival math. Then the realization hit a moment late, and I turned—

  A jaw was already there.

  Inches from my face. Saliva hanging from its mouth. Teeth bared.

  I twisted on instinct, but I was too slow.

  The wolf bit down and tore a chunk of my flesh clean off.

  Pain tore through me.

  Not like falling. Not like slamming into stone. That had been impact. This was something being torn out of me.

  I jumped back as far as I could, my body shaking from it.

  Then I looked up.

  The wolf’s hind legs were trembling slightly, but that wasn’t what caught me first. My flesh hung from its mouth in wet strands—

  then it spat it out like rotten food and coughed, once, then again.

  When it looked back at me, the aggression in its eyes had only gotten worse.

  I must not taste nice.

  Which really wasn’t the time to be thinking that—

  then my HP flashed red across my vision.

  HP: 10 / 30

  The loss matched the pain.

  I forced myself to focus on the wolf again, and that was when I recognized it. The limp in its hind legs. The uneven way it held itself.

  The one that had crashed into the stone.

  I hadn’t expected it to keep chasing me all this way.

  That was stupid.

  By now I should’ve known better than to assume anything in this world would let something go once it decided to kill it.

  Rookie mistake.

  I straightened my body as the pain flared through me again.

  I stood my ground against my pursuer.

  Well, you came at the perfect time.

  I readied my body.

  Time to use your own ability against you.

  The wolf lunged without hesitation, but it was slower now. Its injured hind legs dragged just enough to give me the opening I needed. It hung in the air a fraction longer than it should have.

  I closed my eyes for a split second and forced every part of my focus onto the wolf. When I opened them again, there was nothing left in me but intent. My arm shifted slightly, already beginning the motion as I activated Claw Slash.

  For a split second, a phantom claw layered over my hand. I swung, and it followed. The arcs tore through the air in front of me, distorting it as they went like they were cutting through the air itself.

  The wolf’s eyes stayed locked on me—then shifted to the slashes flying toward it.

  There was no time to dodge. No time to fight it.

  Something in its stare changed. The aggression disappeared, and in its place was something closer to acceptance.

  The arcs hit and ripped straight through its body, splitting it cleanly into three pieces.

  The remains landed hard across the ground, and the slashes kept going—cutting into the tree behind it and tearing through the bushes it had jumped out from—before finally burning out.

  As the arcs faded from view, a sharp pain rose inside me. Not from my flesh—something deeper.

  It only lasted a moment before fading, but it was enough to throw me off for half a second.

  When I looked up again, the wolf’s body was spread across the ground.

  That made a mess.

  A cynical thought. But maybe that was what this world was doing to me.

  I checked my health.

  HP: 8 / 30

  I nodded once, accepting the cost now that I could feel it properly.

  You gain 45 EXP

  I stood there for a moment, looking down at myself—at the chunk missing from my body—and repeated the lesson to myself.

  Be more careful.

  No more assumptions.

  Then I looked up through the trees.

  The sun sat high overhead.

  Midday.

  Too long until I could sleep. Too long until I could heal.

  HP: 8 / 30

  MP: 2 / 7

  This wasn’t going to be easy.

  Then again, what had been?

  I pushed the thought aside and started moving out of the clearing. As I forced my way through the hanging foliage, another howl cut through the forest.

  This time my first thought was immediate.

  Not again. Can’t they leave me alone for one moment?

  Then the howl finished, and the forest fell silent. The breeze slowed, then stopped. Even the insects seemed to forget how to sing.

  I didn’t freeze.

  I didn’t hesitate.

  I ran.