The knife had been doing its best space heater impression for the past hour, pulsing with this weird off-beat rhythm that didn't quite sync up with the forest's light show. Sean shifted around, trying to keep his connection with the massive tree root while also not letting the knife burn a hole through his hip.
Those funky etchings on the blade were getting frisky, dancing around like they were at a rave. His grandfather had spent years making him trace these patterns until he could do it in his sleep, but now they were practically doing the macarena on their own, vibing with something in this acid trip of a forest.
He'd had front-row seats to three more deaths in the last hour. This Russian special forces type had lasted longest - she'd brought some fancy thermal imaging gear to the party. But she'd fallen into the same trap as everyone else - treating these things like they were just really sneaky animals. The shadows had turned her into a cautionary tale with their usual liquid grace, flowing through spaces her tech couldn't even see.
[Current participants: 72/100]
The forest was changing its tune again. Sean had gotten pretty good at reading these shifts since the sun checked out. The glowy veins in the nearby trees had slowed their disco routine, getting all deliberate and mysterious. Usually, this meant the shadow-creatures were about to crash the party, but something felt off this time. The knife was practically screaming at him through its heat.
He nocked an arrow - the familiar motion as comforting as a warm blanket - and started scanning between the trees. Not the obvious gaps, but those weird angles where shadow seemed to tell physics to hold its beer. His grandfather had taught him to look for similar stuff back home during twilight, when reality got a bit loose around the edges.
First warning sign: the knife went from "warm cup of coffee" to "just grabbed a hot pan" levels of heat. Second warning sign: the glowy veins in the nearest tree straight-up ghosted, leaving this creepy void in the forest's network. Sean turned, arrow half-drawn, just as the shadow-creature materialized from a spot that his brain insisted was more "M.C. Escher" than "actual space."
This one was the boss battle version of the others he'd seen - bigger, more solid, like it had hit the shadow-creature gym. The thousands of little tendrils covering it were moving with purpose, like tiny snakes tasting the air. Its head, sporting those concentric rings of teeth (because regular teeth just weren't scary enough), turned toward him with this "I'm about to grade your final exam" kind of precision.
Sean's arrow hit it dead center in what should've been the kill zone. The shot was perfect - the kind that had made deer call their insurance companies. The arrow passed through the thing like it was shooting at a smoke machine's greatest hits, vanishing into the darkness behind it. He'd expected this - he'd seen others try to fight these things with normal weapons - but he'd needed to check that box personally.
Then it moved.
Sean had spent hours watching these things hunt. He'd seen them turn trained killers into highlight reels. But being hunted by one? Whole different ballgame. It flowed around his position like someone had given darkness an energy drink. The air twisted in ways that made his eyes want to file for divorce from his brain.
His second arrow did its best ghost impression, disappearing into a space that looked deeper than the forest had any right to be. His third arrow never got its moment in the spotlight - the creature's attack sent him flying from his perch like a pinball, sprawling onto a lower root system. His bow went spinning off into the darkness like it had better places to be. The knife was now doing its best impression of a branding iron.
The shadow-creature followed him down, expanding like darkness after you hit the light switch. Those sensory tendrils reached for him, each tipped with tiny mouths (because this thing wasn't nightmare fuel enough already). Sean rolled like his life depended on it (spoiler: it did), but this thing moved like water flowing uphill, cutting off escape routes faster than he could find them. The forest's light show kicked into overdrive, creating patterns that made his eyes file a formal complaint.
His hand found the knife's hilt. The heat tried to melt his palm, but letting go wasn't an option. The etchings suddenly lit up like Times Square on New Year's, throwing shadows that gave the forest's light show the middle finger. The shadow-creature actually flinched, getting more solid, more real. Sean felt something ancient wake up in his blood, like his DNA had just remembered it had some old scores to settle.
He didn't think - couldn't think. Years of his grandfather's training took the wheel. The old man always said instinct was faster than thought. Sean struck out, not at where the creature was, but where the knife's burning presence said it would be.
The knife connected, and reality had a hiccup.
Where the blade cut, space itself split open like a cosmic piñata, showing something ancient and dark under the shadow-creature's fancy wrapper. Its howl changed from "apex predator's greatest hits" to "something that just remembered what fear tastes like." The creature started coming apart like a sweater caught on a nail, its form bleeding into regular darkness instead of its usual liquid night routine.
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The forest's rhythm stumbled, its light show stuttering like it had seen a ghost. Sean felt power surge through the knife and into his blood, waking up something that had been hitting snooze since before his great-great-grandpa was a twinkle in someone's eye. The shadow-creature melted into the darkness, but its death had changed something in the forest's pattern. The hunter had become the hunted, and the trees were all gossiping about it.
A notification dinged as the shadowy form started its best impression of a melting ice cream cone. Sean barely registered the pop-ups at the edge of his vision. The forest's rhythm had gone from "chill beats to study to" to "drum solo in a metal concert." Howls echoed from everywhere - the shadow-creatures were converging like it was Black Friday and Sean was the last PS5. The creature at his feet was doing its best disappearing act, but its death throes had rung the dinner bell.
He moved on autopilot, letting instinct and his growing forest-sense be his GPS. The knife had chilled from "surface of the sun" to "warm cup of coffee," pulling him in certain directions like a really weird compass. He followed its guidance, using the tree roots like nature's highway system, reading the patterns of light and shadow in ways that were starting to make a weird kind of sense.
He passed another participant - some tactical gear enthusiast trying to hide in what they probably thought was a solid spot. Sean kept moving. Couldn't stop, couldn't warn them. The shadow-creatures were too close, and any detour meant joining the "dead participant" club. He heard the brief struggle behind him as he pressed on.
[Current participants: 67/100]
Turned out the forest's glow-in-the-dark network wasn't just pretty lights - it was a whole language, a map of safe zones and secret paths. His grandfather had taught him something similar about twilight forests - how to read the spaces between shadow and light, how to move through those moments when reality got a bit fuzzy around the edges.
Sean ghosted through the alien forest like he had shadow-creature DNA himself, each step guided by the knife's warmth and his growing understanding of the forest's rhythm. He could hear them hunting him, their howls coordinating like the world's deadliest conference call, but he was learning to read the spaces they couldn't reach, the moments between their movements.
Gunfire erupted to his left - someone else's last hurrah. The muzzle flash lit up the canopy like nature's own strobe light. Sean used the distraction to pull a direction change, letting the forest's network guide him toward something that felt like it wouldn't get him killed.
[Current participants: 64/100]
After what felt like forever but was probably just minutes, he found his spot - a hollow space inside a massive trunk where three trees had decided to get cozy. The glowy veins here pulsed different, creating patterns that seemed more "hide and seek champion" than "look at me." The knife cooled down to a gentle throb, like it was giving him a thumbs up.
Only then did he let himself process what had just gone down. The knife had done something that should've been impossible. He knew it was impossible. He'd seen others try to hurt these things. All had failed. They were shadows - you can't stab a shadow. Except apparently, you could, if you had the right knife. The etchings on its surface had settled down, but they looked more... there, somehow. Sean could almost feel the power they were giving off, like they were satisfied with their first kill in a long time.
He finally checked the notification that had been trying to get his attention:
You have slain [Servant of the Darkness - Level 3] Experience points have been granted!
You have reached level 1! 5 free points have been granted.
Sean studied the pop-ups while catching his breath. So these things were called "servants of the darkness." Pretty on-the-nose naming there, system. Real creative. The free points thing was interesting, but he decided to file that under "figure it out later" - he still had too many question marks and not enough exclamation points.
The forest's rhythm was settling back into its regular groove, the urgent hunting patterns fading like a bad radio signal. But something had shifted. He could feel it in the knife's warmth, in the way the glowy veins around him seemed to respond to him like he was part of their network now. He hadn't just survived a shadow-creature encounter - he'd leveled up, literally and figuratively. He felt different, bigger somehow, and the forest seemed to agree.
Way up high, through gaps in the canopy, the massive thing that had been playing "circle the forest" changed its flight pattern. Its presence bent space in new ways, creating distortions that seemed to peer down at him like "well, well, well, what do we have here?" The knife pulsed once in response, and Sean felt something ancient stir in his blood like it was waking up from a really long nap.
He settled into his new hidey-hole, checking his remaining arrows, keeping the knife close. The tutorial was showing him things his grandfather had only winked about, teaching him truths that went way beyond "how not to die in the woods." But this was just the beginning. He'd killed one servant of the darkness, but the price tag had been steep - he'd outed himself as different from the other participants.
The night got darker, bringing new sounds with it: shadow-creatures hunting, the forest's network pulsing with information he was just starting to decode, and somewhere up there, the massive thing kept circling, watching as ancient powers started waking up.
Looking at the counter, Sean noted they were down to half the original crew. The survivors had adapted, learned the new rules of the game. He touched the knife's hilt, feeling its reassuring warmth. He had a lot to learn, and this night was far from over. The forest's rhythm changed again, suggesting something was moving nearby, and he got ready for whatever was coming next. Sean made himself a promise right then - he was done being prey. He was going to take this opportunity and run with it, hunt these monsters down one by one. Levels be damned.