The body suddenly became heavy as it collapsed to its knees, blood streaming down, staining the view with a crimson hue. It trembled incessantly, feeling detached from reality. His hands were no longer his own, mere tools of another, while his emotions and sensations were imperfect creations generated by brain fluids.

"Who am I?" Peering through multiple layers of consciousness, in a dark void, someone gazed at the real world. They felt lethargic, as if they had been abruptly awakened, their thoughts sluggish, and the rusty gears of their mind slowly beginning to turn.

“I am a Hunter, the world is my prey…”

It felt like being reborn. He felt trapped in a shell, unable to influence the world, unable to understand it, his vision narrow and limited. He had awoken momentarily before, but now, he was truly coming to life. There would be no going back. At last, he rose from the bed, breaking his shell.

His hands pushed through the layers of consciousness, trying to emerge. His imperfect body needed to change; it could no longer contain the creature that would be born. As if the world itself recognized his achievement, a new, perfect body began to mold around him as he shattered his prison.

His true eyes were the first to manifest. The world he awoke to was unlike anything he'd ever seen before. Instead of being made of matter, it appeared to be woven from countless threads, stitched together.

Looking at his arms and hands, he couldn't help but notice the red threads stretching in every direction, with a new layer manifesting. A large figure stood before him.

It had eight arms, each with eight hands and eight fingers. The fingers were sharp and pointed as it wove reality itself, aiding in his birth. Opening and stitching his new receptacle, made from the surrounding threads, he looked down at himself. He was different from everything around him, like a flame amidst the threads.

His flame was small and weak, its red hue cold and without heat, his existence fragile, easily extinguished by a mere gust. The being gently cradled him with a touch that was soft and experienced. It carried him to his still-open receptacle.

Before closing, however, he extended his hand around, in the threads that were flying in the air, he grabbed some without breaking them, and sewed even deeper, taking the threads that made up the monster, he went deeper, with the threads that made up the poison more deeper.

It grabbed a thread, and with a tug, it ignited in a small, weak black flame, flickering with crimson tendrils. In the final opening of the new receptacle, it fused both flames. Stark didn’t know what he was feeling, but he could sense that he was no longer alone in there. Someone else, still dormant, was with him. It was really aggressive and seemed to be held by chains, its murderer intent overflowing trying hard to somehow break free and kill him.

The final stitch was made, and the being simply turned and walked away. Stark didn’t know how to react to the situation around him. Another human—or what he thought was one—was observing him. Their crochet-like figure approached, offering a hand. He could see a faint red flame flickering within the gaps.

His mind was numb as he looked at his hands, feeling them once again. Red, green, purple, and black threads wove through him in a beautiful, strange dance. They were in constant motion, which was odd.

He hadn’t fully connected to it yet, and when he realized it, reality hit him with a shock that knocked him down again. His eyes refocused. The ground he knelt on was soaked in blood, and a mutilated body lay next to him.

His naked body was on all fours, unable to comprehend anything. His consciousness was overloaded with new stimuli—colors he had never seen before presenting themselves, his hearing now several times more sensitive, turning the once-silent forest into a stadium of gladiators cheering for glory.

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The smells made him nauseous, causing him to try and vomit, but with nothing in his stomach, it led to dry heaving. He lifted his head for a moment, recognizing the outstretched hand and finally grasping it, standing at last.

“Are you okay?” The figure dressed in bear fur asked, her voice filled with concern.

“The awakening is a bit intense. It was terrible for me too,” she continued, offering him her cloak.

“Thank you,” he replied, still dazed. He noticed that the figure helping him was a woman with brown hair and dark eyes. She was small and thin, with little volume.

“you're welcome lady…” He was confused, glancing at himself in desperation. He was now a tall woman with large breasts—his worst fears realized.

“Nooooooo!” His scream echoed throughout the forest, filled with desperation and urgency.

“You'll get used to it with time…” He picked up a knife that had fallen nearby, ready to make drastic decisions.

“I’ll never be a woman! I want my junior back, damn it!” As he raised the blade, he heard a tongue click. Someone complained in the back of his mind.

“What’s wrong with being a woman? Fine, since you insist…” Pain spread through him again, and his body began to convulse. His feminine form diminished, taking on masculine features.

The woman in front of him watched in astonishment as the beautiful white-haired woman transformed into a rugged, sharp-faced man with crimson eyes full of intelligence and bloodthirsty violence.

He examined himself again, satisfied with his muscular arms, relieved that he hadn’t turned into a Hulk. His body was strong and robust but not overwhelmingly bulky, maintaining some elegance and refinement.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life…” His breathing was still uneven, the panic of becoming a woman something he would never forget.

“Anyway, who are you?” The girl didn’t seem much younger than him, and her eyes held a unique quality of mystery and intrigue, like a witch who lived alone with her cats and magical plants.

“Alice. I believe we’re here for the same reason…” He looked at her for a moment, trying to remember. Like a vivid illusion, his mind wandered through images of the people who had come with him, even those he had only glimpsed were clear.

“I don’t recall seeing someone like you on the train.” She looked at him comically.

“Neither do I. Have you noticed that our appearances have changed?” He rolled his eyes at her.

“As far as I know, there aren’t any mirrors here, and aside from getting hotter, I don’t see much of a change.” She helped him up and guided him to a nearby river. In the reflection, he noticed his face, now full of vitality. The weariness of his past life had been completely swept under the rug.

“Survival was difficult around the camp area, so I ventured out alone. And when I did, the same thing happened to me as it did to you. I believe this is what they call an awakening.” He nodded. It had to be that. The sensation was unique, the effects mystical.

“They should be coming to get us soon. We just need to survive a little longer. But why were you chasing the demon? You’re unarmed, and I didn’t see any destructive magic.” She shrugged.

“These demons are complete cannibals. I was hoping that eventually, one of them would fight this one, and I’d feed on it. I just didn’t expect the big guy to die. I’ve been following him for days and saw countless battles he won with ease. His lightning always delivered a brutal ultimatum.” With a sigh, she added.

“It's a shame his meat is poisoned, or it would have made a good meal…” Stark agreed. If not for the awakening, he would have died from consuming that meat…

“Well, I guess this marks the end of one life and the beginning of another.” He looked at the horizon, feeling at ease here. It seemed as though he had tamed the forest, and its spirit deeply respected him. Precisely because of this, he realized something.

“We’re still in a safe zone, just a less controlled one.” His eyes wandered through the air as he tried to confirm his theory. His vision could now see more spectrums of light, including infrared, ultraviolet, and thermal vision. He detected a humanoid figure nearby, hidden among the trees. Realizing it had been discovered, the figure approached quickly.

From Alice’s perspective, the light mysteriously distorted, revealing one of the angels, while to Stark, it was clear the angel had always been there. It was the same one who had told him about this world and the selection process.

“I was sure you’d make it. As for both of you, I’ve informed the leader. You’ve both been approved and will be taken with us.” Stark looked at him for a moment, trying to gather more information.

“Are we new, or are we useful?” The angel grinned from ear to ear.Her angelic expression was beautiful, but some traces of envy still went unnoticed.

“I think both of you will be treated well…”