“Please don’t tell me this is really happening.”

“Oh, come on, Houston. It’s—”

“Don’t speak to me with that goofy face of yours.”

“HAHAHA. Man, how did I end up with such a grumpy guy as the voice in my head?”

“It’s called natural selection. And again… just why? Seriously, just why? Did you hit your head somewhere? Do you think we’re back in Melbourne?”

Alonso shook his head as he ran down the beach, a smile playing on his face. “Now that I think of it, you’ve never been to Melbourne, have you, Houston?”

“Oh, and at this rate, I never will be.”

“What’s the joy in life if everything is just a variable, Houston?”

“Variables, huh? You know, that’s how your ‘girlfriend’ referred to others too… You could learn a thing or two from her philosophy.”

“Well, she’s probably a scientist or maybe a PhD student like I was. It’s normal terminology.”

“And saying that you’ll meet for a grueling fight to the death? And the joke about severing her arm? Is that scientist terminology too?”

Alonso chuckled, the smile still lingering on his face as he continued his pace along the beach. “Maybe not,” he admitted, the wind brushing against his skin. “But, you know, there’s a certain... honesty in it. We’re all here trying to survive, and sometimes, that means acknowledging the possibility that we might end up on opposite sides.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that. Just remember, the last time someone talked about severing arms, it didn’t end well in those old samurai movies you love.”

Alonso’s smile widened. “Well, at least it’s good to know I’m still thinking clearly enough to make jokes. That’s got to count for something.”

“Just make sure you’re ready for whatever comes next. Because I doubt it’s going to be another peaceful chat by the ocean.”

Alonso kept running down the beach in silence.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“The fact that you’re saying that already means I remembered.”

After running a few miles from his encounter with Chiara, but still some distance from his meeting point with Abhijit, Alonso stopped in his tracks. He turned to face the jungle and began moving toward it.

“Okay. Clear your head. We’re entering worm territory soon.”

“You sound like my parents, Houston.”

Alonso’s smile faded, and his grip on the sword tightened.

His pace slowed as he ventured deeper into the jungle. His running steps transitioned into a light jog, and eventually, a cautious walk. The soft sand beneath his feet gave way to the uneven, root-strewn earth of the forest floor.

The further he moved from the beach, the more the sound of the waves faded, replaced by the muted rustle of leaves and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot. The air grew thicker, more humid, carrying the faint, earthy scent of the dense foliage surrounding him.

The canopy above, thick with intertwined branches and leaves, blocked out the last remnants of daylight, plunging the jungle into deepening shadows.

As he pushed deeper into the forest, the darkness seemed to close in around him, the undergrowth growing denser and the path disappearing altogether. The silence was thick and oppressive, making every small sound—his footsteps, the rustle of leaves against his clothes—seem unnaturally loud, echoing in the stillness of the night.

But it wasn't the sound he was relying on.

As he moved, he continuously sent out waves, sensing the space around him. Though he could focus on just the arc ahead, the fact that his EM waves lost energy quickly as they passed through the ground meant he couldn’t ignore the possibility that a worm could be moving fast enough beneath to spring a trap. Just in case, he relied on lower frequency waves, which had less attenuation as they passed through solids.

Huh.

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Suddenly, he detected a faint vibration through the ground, almost imperceptible—a subtle tremor that made him question if it was real. But then, his EM senses picked up something unusual. Something fast.

As he focused, the vibrations grew clearer, accompanied by the soft rustling of leaves and the faint snap of twigs being disturbed. The sound was distant but distinct, like something large and agile moving swiftly through the underbrush, closing in on him with alarming speed.

Alonso’s heart raced as he quickly analyzed the data his EM waves were feeding him. But it made no sense. Sound was telling him it was something large, but all his waves picked up were a series of small, sharp metallic objects moving fast toward him in a tight formation. Based on their height, they were either a group of very small, airborne creatures or part of a larger entity. Spikes? Fangs?

Damn. You had to jinx it, Abhijit.

His grip on his sword tightened as he crouched low, ready to strike. The sound grew clearer but remained subtle, almost eerily so, as if whatever was approaching was deliberately minimizing its noise.

“Fuck it, Houston, we have to gamble.”

“It’s fangs.”

“If it’s not, we’re dead.”

“It’s fangs.”

“...”

Then the creature was upon him. Just as the metallic objects closed in on his sword’s reach, he unleashed a slash, starting low and sweeping upward in a slightly crescent arc, aiming where he believed the throat would be, using the ‘fangs’ as a reference point.

The blade struck something hard but it cut through… until it didn’t.

The impact tore Alonso away from his grip, sending him sprawling to the ground. He rolled, disoriented, feeling the rough earth beneath him as he scrambled to regain his bearings.

He forced himself to his feet, his EM senses guiding him in the darkness. The creature—a massive, black panther-like beast—thrashed wildly, his sword lodged deep in its throat. Even with the weapon embedded in its flesh, the beast wasn’t slowing down. It bolted, trying to flee, dragging Alonso's sword with it, its movements erratic and desperate.

Alonso tracked the creature’s every move through his EM waves, sensing the metallic fangs and his own weapon as they jerked and twisted. The beast, though wounded, was powerful. It suddenly stumbled, its legs giving out as it tripped over a protruding root. The sudden jolt dislodged the sword slightly, and Alonso saw his chance.

Ignoring the burning in his muscles, he dashed toward the struggling creature. The panther snarled, trying to regain its footing, but Alonso was faster. He reached out, his fingers closing around the hilt of the sword just as the beast lunged weakly, fangs flashing in the dim light.

With a determined grunt, Alonso yanked the sword free and, with a fluid motion, drove it back into the creature’s throat, aiming for the exposed gap he had sensed earlier. The blade slid in with a sickening ease, slicing through muscle and bone.

The panther let out a choked, guttural roar, its body convulsing violently before collapsing to the ground. It shuddered once, twice, and then was still.

Alonso stood over the fallen beast, his chest heaving, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. He kept his grip on the sword, waiting to see if the creature would move again, but it remained lifeless, the dark blood pooling around it in the faint light.

He had been lucky—too lucky. The realization hit him hard.

“You survived because you were prepared, not just lucky. The decision about the fangs wasn’t a random guess; it was a calculated move based on the EM waves we detected. This place mimics aspects of our world, so it was logical to assume the creature would have similar vulnerabilities to something like a tiger or panther. Don’t undermine yourself by thinking luck saved you. In that fight, it was just you and the panther—or whatever that was—and you won.”

Alonso took a deep breath, steadying himself as he wiped the blade on the grass beside him. He couldn’t afford to let doubt creep in. Not here. Not now.

He glanced down at the creature, taking in its features. The panther-like beast was completely black, its fur absorbing the faint light and giving it an almost shadow-like appearance. It was slightly larger than a tiger, its body powerful and muscular. But what struck Alonso the most was its head—devoid of eyes, ears, or even a nose. The only prominent feature was the set of metallic fangs protruding from its maw, gleaming dully in the darkness.

He waited, his breath still ragged, watching the creature’s body. And he waited. And waited. But the corpse did not disappear.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…”

Where the hell was his orb? Every creature he had killed, even humans, had faded away, leaving an orb behind. So why was this panther-like monster’s corpse still there, showing no signs of vanishing?

He had given it more time than usual, thinking maybe this creature took longer to truly die, but nothing happened. The corpse remained.

“Well, it’s black. Every creature we’ve faced so far—let’s exclude humans—was completely white. Both the humanoids and the worms. Maybe this is a new type of creature, the black ones, that don’t dissipate after death.”

Alonso crouched down, his curiosity piqued. He ran his hand over the creature’s fur; it was coarse, nothing like the soft pelts he had encountered on Earth. Beneath the fur, the hide was incredibly tough, almost like armor. He pressed down slightly, feeling the resistance under his fingers. It was as if the creature’s skin had been reinforced with something beyond just muscle and bone.

He thought back to the impact of his sword strike, how it had stopped dead even after hitting the vulnerable throat. If he had struck its upper hide, it would likely have left nothing more than a scratch.

“So, Houston, you reckon we can finally have some meat?” Alonso grinned at the thought.

A nice BBQ on the beach with panther-like abomination meat didn’t sound too bad.