I soared toward the nearest tree and smashed into it with all the elegance of a deer carcass blowing off the back of a truck into a telephone pole. I didn’t know what to do, but my new body did. All eight limbs wrapped around the trunk and boughs as the tree swayed, raining debris. A confused snake hit me on the face and bounced away. To my surprise, I didn’t fall. My claws dug through the jungle hardwood like it was made of soft butter. When they felt like cooperating, the tentacles let me clamber around like some octopus-like villain from an unmentionable, yet famous spider-esque superhero franchise.

“Okay. Instincts, go!” Whatever a Reaper was, it was a monster made for climbing. I tried to clear my mind and relax, because as long as I didn’t think about it too much, I was able to climb almost as quickly as I could move on the ground. Birds chattered in terror as I shimmied up the trunk and flopped onto a big branch, panting tiredly. I still didn’t know where to put my tentacles, so I let them dangle to either side of my body and watched as the Hyperboar charged through the brush toward my perch.

“C’mon, man. The fuck you gonna do?” I stared as the enraged pig launched itself at the tree and slammed its head into it, scattering bark everywhere.

“WEEE! WRREEE!” It screeched. “WREEEEE!”

Something didn’t add up. This Hyperboar was supposedly a Greater Legion, like me, but it wasn’t acting like a person in a monster’s body. It was acting like a mindless animal. But then I remembered Chorus’s bumbling, and Dmitri’s little quip about ‘leaving my mind intact.’ Hmm.

The Hyperboar pranced and bucked and squealed, then turned to ram the tree again. This time, it discharged a bolt of lightning. The tree was fine. The tinderbox of ferns and old bark at the base was not. It instantly caught fire.

“Oh, come on…” Before I had time to react to that exciting development, there was a flash of red and a hiss to my left. My head snapped around to face a praying mantis the size of a small dog. Its scissor arms were flung open, the creepy stick-like body swaying from side to side. My vision tunneled, and an icy chill gripped my guts as I abruptly recalled my first real memory about myself.

Bugs.

I fucking HATED bugs.

“Woah-woah-WHAT THE-!” The mantis lunged at my face. Before I realized what I doing, I lashed out with my jaws. The intent was to smack it away, but instead, I chomped down - and bit the thing in half. It seemed as surprised as I was when its arm and torso split under my jaws with a crunch. A wave of bitter ichor flooded my mouth.

[You have identified new creature: Dire Mantis.]

[You gain 1 EXP!]

“NYAARGH! AGGH PFFT!” I gagged, pawing at my tongue, and almost fell out of the tree as the Hyperboar rammed it again. “Fuck you! Fuck me! Fuck this thing! Fucking MAN TITS! MANTIS! SAME THING!!”

The tree shuddered under the impact of another blow, and an ominous groaning sound vibrated through the trunk.

“Punkass Russian gangsters, punk ass murder-pigs, punk ass motherfucking giant BUGS...!” I clutched back onto the trunk and shuffled around until I spotted another tree big enough to support my half-ton weight. I tensed, wiggled my butt like a cat, and leaped out. It was easier than the first jump, but I landed awkwardly on the big Y-fork branch, jamming one saucer-sized paw into a hole and nearly twisting my ankle. Still, there was no time to lose. I wiggled, aimed, and bounded to the next tree over. Then the next. Every time I jumped, my legs and tentacles coordinated to grasp and anchor me. Every time, I got a little better.

I cut a big circle around the boar so I could observe it, slinking into a shadowed canopy of leaves. The Stamina bar was orange now, refilling with painful slowness. While my HUD was still in focus, a new symbol appeared beside the stamina bar when I crouched down - an eye with a cross struck through it. A Stealth icon? As long as I stayed low and didn’t move, I was Concealed. That was great, but why the hell was my energy refilling so slowly?

[You are Hungry. Stamina regeneration -50%.]

Chorus’s voice was informational, but just a little sarcastic.

“Oh. Right.” I jumped at the notification, then sighed and laid my chin down. I’d barely dared to relax when a chorus of shrill screams pierced the air, carrying from the direction of the beach. A chilling sound, like the laughter of hyenas.

I groaned. This was nuts. Electrified rage-hogs. Dumptruck-sized bugs. And now what? Rabid hyenas?

Said rage-hog was still ramming and shocking the first tree. It didn’t know or care that I wasn’t there. The leaf litter around it was letting off plumes of thick white smoke. Unsure of what to do, I checked my Channel tab again. To my surprise, there were now over fifty people watching me play Tarzan, and the comments were flying thick and fast:

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

[You have 3 new Followers!]

“We’re comin’ for your S-tier ass, lil’ hoggy!” A man’s voice hooted through the hyena-giggling, bouncing off the trees and stones. Other men shrieked encouragement. Guttural, deep-bellied roars added to the cacophony. I risked peering through the vines to get a visual, and when I spotted them, the corner of my eye started twitching.

The posse looked like outlaws from some bad post-apocalyptic B-grade movie. Their suits were cobbled together out of leather, rusted plate, bones, and sheets of giant insect chitin. They had grease smeared all over their faces and cheek piercings that looked like tusks. The leader of the gang rode a collared Greater Legion, a sabertooth cat bigger than a polar bear with red fur the color of fresh blood. Its rider had better armor than the other guys. A crude chain shirt, a breastplate over that, and a coif decorated in bullet casings. His tusks were big enough to push his mouth up in a double-sided sneer. The other five mounted members of the gang rode feathered dinosaurs that my HUD flagged as [Raptors].

Call it a hunch, but I figured these were the Hell Pigs.

I closed the Channel screen as my new fans screamed at me to go down and fight them, watching warily. Yeah, no. Just because I was some kind of edgelord pocket monster didn’t change the fact I was sitting on 16% health at Level 1. I wasn’t regenerating HP or Stamina fast enough to take on fifteen dudes by myself. My chat could go suck my giant black dong.

The Pigs attacked the Hyperboar without mercy. The furious animal got off one jolt of lightning, which barely even singed the fur of the sabretooth as it charged in. The leader stuck the boar with a crossbow bolt, but it was his Legion who did the lion’s share. It shrugged off a direct lightning strike and launched onto the boar’s vulnerable back, ripping at it with claws and fangs. The dinosaurs followed, and pretty soon, they’d torn the squealing boar into bloody chunks. The sabretooth left the raptors to snarf up the meat and guts, until there was nothing but blood, singed leaves, and a small loot bag left on the forest floor.

“Fuck me.” The leader hawked a glob of chewing tobacco, vaulting from his saddle to the ground. “BIRCH!”

One of the raptor-riders hauled on his reins, spinning his mount around. “Yes sir!”

“You better not be messin’ with me, boy.” The older man narrowed his eyes.

“I-I’m not! I saw the Reaper running on the beach! Sir!” Birch squeaked. He was a skinny kid in patchy hide armor that didn’t look half as good as his boss’s gear, and was a fair bit younger than the other men in the gang.

“Legendary Brutes ain’t inclined to spawn on fucking Noobie Beach!” Bullet Hat whirled on the others. “Y’all go start searching for this Reaper! Big black dragon-panther lookin’ thing with tentacles! Can’t miss it!”

I bit back a growl and held position. The eye and cross symbol in the corner of my eye began to pulse like a heartbeat. I was pretty sure that meant I was still concealed, but there were people actively searching for me.

“I’m checking the guild channel, bossman.” One of the guys – skinny, rangy, with a short blond mohawk – reined his raptor in beside his boss. “None of our subs know where he went. If they do, then Chorus is wiping their comments.”

“No one can confirm Birch’s sighting?”

“No sir.”

The Boss sneered. “Well Rooster, it didn’t just disappear in a puff of logic, did it now?”

Rooster made a face. He looked up into the trees, shading his eyes as he scanned the boughs. I clenched a little as his gaze swept over my hiding place, but he didn’t spot me. “You think the boar got it?”

“Might’ve done, if the Reaper didn’t spawn at full health.” Bullet Hat’s mouth sloped to one side as he glanced around the gully. His heart clearly wasn’t in it. “Or it might’ve been a load of horse shit all along.”

“I swear, boss. I saw it from the trees, weaving around before the boar chased it off!” Birch looked nervous now, all white rolling eyes. “It was acting all wonky-like out on Noobie Beach, like a fresh spawn!”

“I didn’t see no damn Reaper tracks. And if—IF – it spawned in the damn Jungle, that means it was a real low level. Maybe even Level 1.” Bullet Hat grimaced. “In which case, guess it was useless to me anyway. Razor’s stupid Osteoth is, what… Level 11 now?”

“Somethin’ like that,” Rooster drawled.

“Then Blaze here is gonna have to do the job.” He clapped the fire-breathing sabretooth on the shoulder. “Not the best type match against an Osteoth, but hell. We’ll play it up for the audience. Everyone loves a good underdog fight.”

“We’re really gonna hit Razor at Vanara’s?” Rooster asked nervously. “Boss, why not train Blaze up for a couple more days?”

“Because Razor, that son of a bitch, looted my goddamn corpse!” Bullet Hat snarled back. “He took my goddamn A-ranked Iron Shield, and I’d choke on your dick before I let that jackoff reach Sergeant with MY shield! I’m gonna erase him, if my name ain’t Clive Magazine!”

Rooster deflated slightly. “Right. And what about Vanara?”

“We don’t need to worry about Vanara, because here’s what we’re gonna do.” Clive puffed himself up and spat. “We’re gonna go to that temple with a sacrifice to help Razor summon Vanara, watch the boss kick his ass up and down the arena, then move in and kill whichever one of them is left standing!”

“You sure he’ll be there?” Rooster asked.

“I guarantee it. He had one sacrifice ready to go in the jail, plus he captured those two Centurion bitches this morning. He only needs one more. So we bring him the fourth sacrifice, like we’re taking a peace offering. But once we’re in that arena? We ain’t lifting a finger. We let Vanara soften him up, then we kill him and the Reavers.”

“If you think we can take him.” Rooster rubbed the back of his neck. “My channel says one of the girls Razor caught isn’t just any old piece of scenery, though. She’s a Centurions Vigiles.”

“Anyone we know?”

“Dunno.” Rooster stared off into space, reading an unseen HUD channel. “Oh. Here we go. ‘Sam Seven-Lives’.”

… Sam?

The voices of the Pigs faded to an unpleasant drone as another blurry memory intruded into my head: the silhouette of a woman surrounded by traceries of movement. Her hands, her fingers, her face… she was speaking ASL. Signing at me, frantically.

Somehow, I knew that name. A deaf woman named Sam. Wasn’t sure about the ‘Seven-Lives’ part. But I knew a Sam. I spoke her language. And I knew I was supposed to protect her.

“Shit!” Clive’s sharp curse shook me out of my daydreaming. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. My channel says we have to get back to the Temple ASAP. Razor’s scouts found the fourth sacrifice near the volcano. The Reavers are getting ready for the ceremony. We have to go now, while half of them are out in the jungle. Fuck! This is our best chance at getting the sumbitch!”

“Where are we going to get a sacrifice in time?” The nervous kid, Birch, sidled up to the sabretooth on the other side.

“Eh? Oh, yeah.” Clive waved toward Birch. “Boys! Grab this lying little wankstain and truss him up!”

“What- NO! HEY!!” Birch began shouting as his comrades turned on him like a pack of dogs. His mount put up a brief fight, but as soon as one of the other guys took the reins and hauled on its mouth, the raptor calmed right down. They dragged Birch off kicking and screaming and put him to the ground.

“Clive! No! Anything but the altar!” Birch yelled, struggling under ten pairs of hands. “C’mon, man! I wasn’t lyin’!”

“So? This is Survival of the Fittest,” the older man drawled. “Welcome to the Jungle, kid.”

Birch screamed, but thrashing didn’t get him anywhere. I flexed and sealed my nostrils, watching his gang truss him like a lamb roast. They gagged him, then threw him over the back of his own mount. The raptor seemed unconcerned about its rider’s fate. It preened its talons like a smug jerk.

“Right. Now, we need to get back before Razor summons the damn boss with whoever they’re catching.” Clive pulled a tin from his belt and peeled out a new wad of chew, stuffing it in his mouth before raising his crossbow high. “C’mon, Hyena Boys! EEEEHHHEEE HEEE HEEEEE!!”

“HAAAHH HEEE HEEE!!!” Clive’s words bought up a chorus of hyena-like shrieks from the others. They slapped hands, then rode past my tree, screeching and cheering as they thundered into the forest.

I sunk down against the branch, rumbling softly to myself. I didn’t know who these fuckers were, or what the ‘altar’ was, but if that Sam was my Sam, I had to stop them from hurting her.

And maybe – just maybe – she could tell me why we were here.