A sharp sound cut through the silence.
Whoosh.
His instincts screamed at him to move, but his body lagged behind. Before he could react, something slammed into his back. A burst of pain shot through him, sharp and immediate. He stumbled, barely keeping himself upright. Another impact. Then another. His brain caught up—he was under attack.
Adrenaline spiked through his veins, dulling the exhaustion. He twisted around, breath ragged, just in time to see them—small, green furballs, no bigger than a fist, darting through the air like living projectiles. There were dozens of them, moving in erratic, unpredictable patterns. The next hit sent him staggering to his knees. This isn’t good. If they kept this up, he’d be battered into the dirt.
Heart pounding, Nick tightened his grip on his spear. Think. He swung at the creatures, but they were too fast, slipping through the dark like ghosts. The dim jungle made it worse—he could barely see. He tried again, and by sheer luck, his spear struck home. The thing let out a high-pitched squeal as a thick, gel-like substance spilled from its punctured body.
They weren’t invincible.
That changed everything.
Nick pushed through the pain, jabbing at anything that got too close. He wasn’t graceful—it was messy, desperate. He missed more than he hit, but it didn’t matter. They weren’t used to resistance. As their numbers dwindled, hesitation crept into their movements.
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Then, as suddenly as they had come, they scattered—melting back into the jungle.
Nick didn’t move right away. His chest heaved, his hands gripping the spear so tightly his knuckles ached. His body hurt. Not just from the bruises—something else. A deep, biting pain spread through him, separate from the blows. His wounds from earlier throbbed angrily, and when he touched his side, his fingers came away wet.
He needed rest. Desperately.
But the jungle wasn’t silent. The distant rustling, the occasional growl—this place was still alive, still watching. If he slept now, he wouldn’t wake up.
So he moved.
Every step sent fresh jolts of pain through his body, but stopping wasn’t an option. He forced himself forward, gripping his spear like a lifeline. The jungle around him whispered with unseen threats—the drone of insects, the sickening sound of flesh being torn, guttural noises from something too large to be ignored. His skin prickled, his mind screaming at him to run, but his body couldn’t manage more than a slow, unsteady march.
Was this worth it?
The thought came unbidden, a bitter whisper in the back of his mind. He’d left the city to survive, to find something better. But now, trudging through this nightmare, bruised, bleeding, and alone—he wasn’t so sure anymore.
Still, what choice did he have?
He pressed on, barely aware of time passing. He was attacked again—once, twice—by things he couldn’t even see. He fought them off on instinct, his world reduced to nothing but movement and pain. His feet, raw and cut from the rough ground, screamed with every step. He was running on empty.
Then, finally—a break.
A sliver of red crept across the horizon.
Dawn.
The jungle exhaled. The tension in the air loosened just enough for Nick to feel it. The creatures lurking in the dark eased back. The oppressive weight of the night lifted ever so slightly.
He should keep going.
But his body had other plans.
His limbs barely obeyed him now, sluggish and uncoordinated. His mind felt like it was swimming through fog. Eventually, survival wasn’t about moving—it was about knowing when to stop.
Nick collapsed.
His spear dug into the dirt as he slumped against it, legs folding beneath him. His breath came in ragged gasps. Every inch of him hurt. He wanted to stay alert, but his eyelids grew heavier by the second.
He fought it.
Lost.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
Should i add information regarding the things appered in kalki world