Theo adjusted the scavenged pack slung across his shoulder. The strap dug into his chest, and every step sent the mismatched contents clinking together—a noisy reminder of just how much he had no clue what he was doing. Erasmus, in his boundless generosity, had provided "rudimentary tools." If you could call a small, metallic pickaxe-looking thing and a tiny knife generous.

  As he trudged forward, the last conversation before leaving the fortress echoed in his mind.

  “Remind me again,” Erasmus drawled, pacing like a man preparing to deliver a particularly devastating insult. His icy blue eyes flicked between the floating consoles and Theo, radiating the kind of scepticism usually reserved for conspiracy theorists and flat-earthers. “What exactly do you intend to contribute here?”

  Theo leaned casually against the lab’s wall, arms crossed, flashing his signature, probably-about-to-get-into-trouble grin. “Extensive martial arts knowledge… uh.”

  He tapped his chin, eyes narrowing as he dug deep—deep—for anything remotely useful outside of folding people. After a long, dramatic pause, he snapped his fingers. “Oh! I can crochet. Cold ears? I’m your guy.”

  Erasmus stared at him, expression flat. “Yes, because in a world of monstrous abominations and cutthroat survivalists, what we’re really lacking is artisanal winter wear.”

  Theo shrugged. “Well, clearly you just don’t understand the morale boost of well-made ear muffs.”

  Erasmus pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something in a language Theo didn’t recognize. Finally, he sighed, fixing Theo with an unimpressed glare. “You are an unintegrated anomaly, Theo. That’s not a strength—it’s a liability. Without the System’s enhancements, you’re—” He gestured vaguely at Theo’s entire existence. “...Essentially a meat-based inconvenience.”

  Theo’s grin faltered slightly. He straightened, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Right, so... if you think I’m dead weight, why did you drag me into your creepy techno-lair in the first place?”

  Erasmus stopped pacing, his gaze unreadable. “I didn’t bring you here. The System did. If I hadn’t been on this planet, you would have been locked in a stasis prison while the Catalyx were informed of your existence.” He paused. “And I promise, that would have been significantly worse.”

  The weight of that statement settled uncomfortably in Theo’s chest.

  “Are you ever going to tell me about this supposed heritage I have? Or, you know, anything about you? I’ve glossed over the fact you’re my ancestor for a generous amount of time, I think,” Theo asked, a hint of desperation in his tone.

  “What more do you need? You are my descendant. It’s a long, cruel story and I don’t particularly care to tell it right now,”

  For a moment, silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Then, Erasmus sighed and turned back to his console, flicking a translucent tablet into the air with a wave of his hand.

  “You’ll get your answers, but first you need to do something for me,” he said, voice colder than usual. His fingers danced across the interface, bringing up a glowing list of materials. “I have tools and schematics that could actually help you survive, but none of the materials I need to construct or power them.”

  Theo frowned. “You’re saying you have all this fancy tech, but it’s too advanced to use?”

  Erasmus gave him a withering look. “Did you pay attention to the negotiation?”

  Theo scratched the back of his head. “Ehhh... In my defence, I had just been kidnapped by a sentient bureaucracy.”

  Erasmus exhaled slowly, like he was considering throwing Theo into the recycling unit. “The System enforces strict parameters. Higher-grade materials are prohibited at this world’s current level. Anything beyond what’s naturally occurring will trigger compliance protocols, and I suspect you don’t want to see what those look like.”

  Theo dragged a hand down his face. “Great. So, what’s on my probably fatal shopping list?”

  Erasmus tapped the console, and a display of alien plants and minerals appeared in mid-air. “Biolum moss, crystal fangroot, and Erythrite Veinstone. They’re abundant in this region, but you’ll need to collect them without dying. These will allow me to craft tools that fit within the system's parameters.”

  Theo studied the glowing images. “No offense, Raz, but this sounds a lot like a suicide mission. Couldn’t you just send one of your creepy little spider bots or something?”

  Erasmus’s lips twitched, almost a smirk. “Nope. Consider this a test. If you can’t handle a simple foraging task, perhaps this isn’t the world for you. Then I’ll just make you my drink fetching bitch for the rest of your days.”

  Theo caught the pack strap Erasmus hurled at him suddenly. He met Erasmus’s gaze, his usual composed veneer giving way to something more stubborn. “Fine. I’ll get your magic weeds or whatever. But when I do, you’d better start giving me some actual credit.” He jabbed a finger at Erasmus’s chest. “Remember, I didn’t ask to be here either, not to mention the fact there’s a whole lot you’re not telling me.”

  Erasmus turned away, already lost in his work. “If you return in one piece, I may even pretend to be impressed.” He paused, glancing over his shoulder. “Now go. The world isn’t going to wait for you to grow a nutsack.”

  The biome stretched out like the fever dream of a mad god—colours pulsing, shadows shifting as if the land itself breathed. Trees with gnarled, bone-white trunks spiralled upward, their canopies shifting like slow waves in an ocean of bioluminescence. Tiny motes of light flitted in the air, dancing between patches of neon moss. Beneath Theo’s boots, the ground alternated between patches of soft, glowing moss and jagged crystalline outcroppings that seemed ready to slice through anything unprotected.

  The voice of Erasmus repeated through Theo’s mind again. “This is an ecosystem designed to kill. Try not to make it easy for it.”

  He kicked a rock, which tumbled forward, only to dissolve into a puddle of green slime. The memory of Erasmus continued, “And definitely don’t touch anything not on the list.”

  Okay that one is definitely sensible, Theo thought.

  The silence of the area was deceptive. Every now and then, a faint rustling reached Theo’s ears, coming from directions impossible to pinpoint. It was the kind of sound that made his instincts hum with tension. The distant chirps of something bird-like were joined by an occasional low bark that seemed to vibrate the ground.

  He pressed forward, trying to focus on his goal: gather the materials Erasmus had shown on his data pad and rattled off with the same enthusiasm as someone listing groceries. Biolum moss, crystal fangroot, and a mineral Erasmus had called “Erythrite Veinstone”—“bright red, likely unstable enough to detonate your skull if mishandled,” Erasmus had added with what Theo swore was the faintest, hopeful smirk.

  The first hour was uneventful—if you ignored the oppressive feeling of being watched. Theo’s eyes darted from shadow to shadow, but nothing revealed itself. The eerie quiet, broken only by the crunch of his boots on alien soil, gnawed at his nerves.

  He paused to crouch beside a tree, its trunk pulsating faintly with veins of glowing green sap. The moss Erasmus needed was growing along the bark. Theo pulled out a small, dull blade from his pack and scraped the bioluminescent moss into a jar, careful not to touch the sap itself.

  “Alright,” he muttered, capping the jar and stashing it away. “One down. Two to go.”

  The distant growl came again, louder this time. Theo froze. The air around him seemed to tighten. Slowly, he turned his head toward the sound. Nothing. The forest’s vibrant glow and shifting shadows made it impossible to see far, every corner alive with false movement.

  “Chill, Theo,” he whispered to himself, gripping the handle of the weird mini-pickaxe. The pitiful looking tool was more psychological comfort than practical defence.

  Two hours in, and Theo was officially over it. His patience was wearing dangerously thin. Every muscle ached from weaving through the uneven terrain, and his nerves buzzed from the relentless need to stay alert. He was extremely physically fit before, but this was something else. The quiet was oppressive, every rustling leaf or distant chirp setting his instincts on edge.

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  And to top it off? He still hadn’t found the damn fangroot.

  Twice now, he’d knelt to examine what he thought was the plant—only to find himself glaring at yet another piece of inert, useless rock. The stuff blended into the environment like it had evolved specifically to piss him off.

  “Seriously,” he muttered, wiping a sheen of sweat from his forehead. “This bitch is hiding like it owes me money.”

  Then, just as he was about to start throwing rocks in frustration, he spotted it.

  A small patch of crystalline stems clung to the edge of a narrow ravine, their translucent surfaces shimmering faintly under the biome’s eerie glow. Finally.

  Theo knelt, pulling out his blade. He worked quickly, carefully digging out the roots, making sure not to damage them in the process. He knew Erasmus was relishing the opportunity to be a condescending bastard about his gathering skills, he’d give him nothing to complain about.

  That was when the air changed.

  A low, reverberating tremor rumbled through the ground, subtle but unmistakable.

  Theo’s hands stilled. The fine hairs on his arms prickled as he slowly raised his eyes, scanning the forest.

  Nothing.

  The rumble came again, closer this time. He didn’t imagine it. This wasn’t the distant growl he’d heard before—it was heavier, deeper, the kind of sound that didn’t just exist in the air but resonated inside his chest.

  Then he saw them.

  Six pairs of faintly glowing yellow eyes blinked in eerie unison, barely distinguishable against the bioluminescent moss and crystalline backdrop. Their bodies were impossibly still, perfectly camouflaged against the alien landscape.

  Watching.

  Waiting.

  Theo’s breath hitched, his fingers tightening around the pickaxe handle with his right hand as the left wielding the probably useless, tiny knife. Slowly, deliberately, the creatures emerged from the undergrowth. Their movements were smooth, controlled—predators with the patience of something that knew it was the apex of its domain.

  They were sleek, covered in glistening scales that refracted the strange ambient light, their bodies moving with the same fluidity as a stalking jungle cat. Long, talon-like claws clicked softly against the stone, while their elongated snouts—more raptor than canine—twitched as they tasted his scent in the air.

  Theo swallowed. Raptor-wolves. Because of course.

  The largest of the pack—the alpha, if he had to guess—let out a slow, rumbling growl, its piercing eyes locked onto him. The rest of the pack fanned out, shifting closer in a controlled, methodical formation. There was no panic, no wasted movement.

  They had done this before.

  Theo’s pulse pounded in his ears. His grip on the pickaxe firmed, body instinctively shifting into a low, balanced stance. He’d been in fights before. He’d stood in rings with men twice his size, and had felt the electric crackle of a crowd waiting for blood—but this was different. These things weren’t performing for an audience. A ref certainly wasn’t going to stop them.

  They were hungry.

  “Alright,” Theo murmured, keeping his voice even, controlled. “Easy now, big dog. Just a friendly guy passing through, no need to get—”

  The alpha’s snarl deepened, reverberating through the pack. Their unblinking stares never wavered.

  Then, in perfect synchrony—

  They lunged.

  Theo barely had time to react. The first raptor-wolf lunged, a blur of glistening scales and snapping teeth.

  Focus.

  His world slowed. Muscles coiled. His grip on the pickaxe tightened. Every detail sharpened—the arc of the creature’s leap, the tension in its hind legs, the way its claws curled inward for maximum impact.

  Theo swung. Hard.

  The pickaxe whistled through the air, forcing the beast to twist mid-flight. It barely missed its snout, but the near-hit sent the raptor skidding off-course. Theo was already moving.

  The second one came from the side, claws flashing like curved daggers.

  Theo dropped low, rolling over uneven ground as the claws slashed overhead. He came up in a crouch, eyes snapping to the pack as they regrouped, recalibrating. His breath came in quick bursts, adrenaline flooding his system.

  "Brilliant plan, Raz. Send the only guy without enhancements into Jurassic Park with a tiny pickaxe. Absolute shithouse," Theo thought bitterly, shifting his weight as the pack formed a loose semicircle around him.

  They weren’t just attacking.

  They were testing him.

  The alpha crouched low, tail flicking, its gaze never leaving him. The rest of the pack fanned out, blocking every exit. A hunting pattern. Predators knew when their prey was cornered.

  Theo clenched his jaw. His mind raced, scanning his surroundings. Head-on fight? Suicide. Running? Pointless.

  Then he spotted it.

  The ravine.

  Narrow but deep, lined with jagged crystalline outcroppings. If he timed it right… It didn’t even matter if he timed it right actually, he was dead if he stayed.

  Theo exhaled sharply, fingers tightening around the pickaxe. Reckless. Borderline suicidal. But better than being ripped apart.

  He bolted.

  The pack snarled and gave chase instantly. The dust lifted beneath his feet, every step calculated, every rock, every slope, every hazard mapped out as his calm focus kept him from making a mistake. The ravine loomed ahead, but the alpha was closing.

  Theo barely twisted in time.

  Claws raked across his back, white-hot pain searing through his nerves. He gritted his teeth, pushing forward with everything he had.

  One shot.

  Theo reached the edge and jumped, twisting his body mid-air. His fingers latched onto a protruding crystal ledge, but momentum slammed him into the wall. The impact knocked the wind from his lungs, but he held on somehow, gritting his teeth as the rough edges of the alien crystal dug into his palms.

  The alpha skidded to a stop at the edge, snarling in frustration. One of the smaller raptors wasn’t so lucky. It barrelled straight over, letting out a shriek before vanishing into the abyss.

  Theo didn’t see how far it fell, but judging by the lack of a thud, the answer was: very fucking far.

  Hanging from the ledge, chest heaving, Theo forced a resigned grin. “One down. If I survive this, I’m never letting Raz send me shopping again.”

  The remainder of the pack paced at the ravine’s edge, their glowing eyes locked onto him. The alpha stepped forward, peering at him and the direction of their fallen brother as if weighing the risk.

  Then, with a deliberate snap of its jaws, it turned away. One by one, the pack followed, their glowing eyes disappearing into the undergrowth.

  The moment his breath steadied, pain came rushing in like a delayed aftershock. His back burned, sharp and moderately deep where the alpha’s claws had raked across him. The warmth of blood trickled down his skin, soaking into the waistband of his trousers.

  Theo hissed through his teeth. Right. Bleeding. Should probably do something about that.

  Gritting his jaw, he rolled onto his side and pulled his tattered shirt into his lap. The fabric was rough, damp with sweat and blood, but better than nothing. With clumsy fingers, he tore a large strip free, using his teeth when his hands weren’t enough.

  The jagged wound pulsed with heat, his body protesting every movement. His arms shook as he reached back, pressing the makeshift cloth against the worst of it. His breath caught—sharp, involuntary—at the pressure. Yep. That feels less than brilliant.

  He adjusted his grip, tying the fabric around his torso, with the remainder of the shirt directly padding his wound, as tightly as his aching muscles allowed. It wasn’t perfect—hell, it wasn’t even good—but it would at least stem the bleeding, hopefully.

  Leaning forward, he rested his forearms on his knees, letting the weight of the moment sink in. The forest around him was still again, the distant hum of bioluminescent flora the only sign that life continued.

  For the first time since arriving in this nightmare world, he’d faced something that should have killed him….

  Barely survived that one, Theo. He pondered, true fear settling in now that his adrenaline faded.

  A slow breath in. A slow breath out.

  Then, despite everything—his burning lungs, his screaming muscles, the raw wound across his back—he smiled. Just a little.

  I actually survived that.

  Dragging a hand down his face, Theo forced himself to his feet, wincing as his back protested the movement. His body felt heavy, but he was still standing. Still moving.

  He glanced back at the ravine, scanning the edge for any sign of glowing yellow eyes. Nothing. The pack had left him behind.

  "Next time," he muttered, voice hoarse but laced with stubborn amusement, "You’re going shopping, Raz."