They say time is a flat circle. That everything that happens has happened before and will happen again. The ancient Hindu texts speak of yugas—great cycles of time that repeat endlessly, each age flowing into the next like seasons in an eternal year.

But this? This is ridiculous.

I tear out another cartoon monkey's throat with my teeth, absorbing its mana to heal the wounds that three others are simultaneously inflicting on my back and legs. The taste is beyond bizarre—somewhere between bubblegum and raw meat, with an undertone of what I can only describe as cel animation ink. Like someone liquidized a cartoon and bottled the essence.

[Combat Loop Detected]

Damage Taken: -47 HP/second

Mana Gained: +43 MP/second

Healing Applied: +41 HP/second

Net Result: Perpetual stalemate

System Note: Creative solution required

Warning: Psychological damage accumulating

"Seriously?" I spit out a mouthful of weirdly technicolor blood. It sparkles as it hits the tree bark, like someone mixed glitter into hemoglobin. "I'm stuck in a body horror time loop with The Samsons?"

The Molly-clone I just killed dissolves into pure mana that flows into my system like liquid starlight, instantly healing the bite wounds from two Bert variants currently gnawing on my legs. Their teeth are cartoonishly large but the pain is very, very real. I grab one of them and return the favor, absorbing more mana, which I immediately have to use to heal the fresh injuries from a pack of baby Megs swarming my back like piranha with anxiety issues.

[Status Update]

Health: Fluctuating wildly

Mana: Constant flux

Sanity: Questionable

Current Strategy: Insufficient

System Note: Subject trapped in regeneration loop

It's like being trapped in an endless cartoon fight scene, except with actual blood and gore instead of anvils and falling pianos. Though honestly, an anvil might be preferable right now. At least that would end quickly. This? This is like being caught in some demented artist's crossover between Tom and Jerry and a Cronenberg body horror film.

"What's next?" I wheeze between kills, trying to ignore how the blood splashing across my face keeps changing colors like a psychedelic lava lamp. "The Flintrocks? Scooby Who? The Jetscreams?"

A Humor-clone takes advantage of my momentary distraction to sink his teeth into my shoulder. The bite feels exactly like you'd expect from someone with a mouth that takes up roughly 40% of their head. I respond by headbutting him so hard his cartoonishly large nose actually makes a honk sound before he expires in a puff of mana-charged star wipes and dissolve effects.

[Combat Analysis]

Enemy Type: Animated Construct

Damage Model: Non-standard

Physics Engine: Compromised

Reality Coherence: 47%

Warning: Narrative causality detected

The whole situation has a dreamlike quality that might be funny if it wasn't so terrifying. Every time I think I'm getting ahead, healing faster than they can damage me, another wave of cartoon primates swarms in. They move with that distinctive animation timing—anticipation, action, follow-through—but their claws and teeth are sharp enough to tear through what's left of my battle suit like it's made of wet paper.

I've lost count of how many I've killed. Dozens? Hundreds? They seem to respawn as fast as I can tear through them. For each one I absorb, two more appear from the misty canopy, their cel-shaded forms moving with that unsettling mixture of cartoon fluidity and predatory grace.

"This is insane," I gasp, watching my own blood mix with theirs in swirling patterns that somehow form actual action lines in the air. "I'm being eaten alive by Saturday morning cartoon characters."

A Leah-variant swings down from a higher branch, her spiky hair pattern somehow sharp enough to slice through my armor. I grab her by that impossible hair and use her as a club against three approaching Humors, but the damage is already done. I can feel my strength ebbing even as I absorb more mana to heal.

[Energy Analysis]

Conversion Rate: Declining

Healing Efficiency: 89% and falling

Warning: Diminishing returns detected

System Note: Current loop unsustainable

The System's right. I can feel it in my bones—literally, as they crack and heal and crack again. Each cycle of damage and regeneration is leaving me a little weaker, a little slower. The mana I'm absorbing isn't quite keeping pace with the damage anymore. Eventually, they'll overwhelm me through sheer attrition.

I need a way out of this loop. Some way to break the cycle. But it's hard to think strategically when you're literally being eaten alive by animated characters who look like they should be selling breakfast cereal instead of trying to tear out your kidneys.

That's when everything changes.

The attacking cartoon primates freeze mid-maul, their expressions shifting from murderous to... concerned? As one, they release their holds on my various body parts and withdraw, creating a cleared path through their ranks. The sudden silence is almost as jarring as the violence was.

Something's coming. Something big.

And judging by how quickly these cartoon killing machines just backed off, something a lot worse than anything I've faced so far.

Great. Just great.

Heavy footfalls shake the massive branch we're perched on, making droplets of technicolor blood dance like liquid rubies. The Samsons' rapid retreat has left me in a small clearing among the foliage, my tattered armor still smoking from their acid drool, my newly-healed flesh tingling with residual mana.

[Threat Detection Active]

Unknown Entity Approaching

Mass: Approximately 298kg

Threat Level: Calculating...

Warning: Insufficient data

Note: Local fauna demonstrating unusual deference

Through the perpetual mist that shrouds this jungle's canopy, a massive shape emerges. At first, all I can make out is a silhouette—an impossibly large figure moving with a peculiar mix of raw power and... is that swagger? The way it walks reminds me of those catwalk models I used to see on billboards back in Mumbai, except this one's about three meters tall and covered in thick, shaggy fur.

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The creature steps into clearer view, and my first coherent thought is: That's a lot of hair. My second thought is: Why does it look like it just stepped out of a shampoo commercial? Because the fur—a rich brown color with hints of auburn where the diffuse light catches it—actually seems to flow in slow motion, like there's a wind machine just off-camera.

[Entity Analysis]

Species: Unknown Primate

Height: 2.97 meters

Mass: Confirmed 298kg

Distinctive Features:

- Bipedal locomotion

- Enhanced musculature

- Unusual attention to grooming

Note: Subject displaying non-standard behavioral patterns

The beast rears up to its full height, and I get my first real look at its face. The features are a strange blend of simian and... something else. Something almost human, but not quite. Its eyes are surprisingly expressive, set deep under a heavy brow ridge that somehow manages to look both fierce and... well, carefully maintained? Like someone's been plucking those eyebrows.

It lets out a roar that shakes leaves from nearby branches and sends the remaining cartoon monkeys into even deeper submission. The sound starts like a bear's growl, shifts through something that reminds me of a Tibetan throat singer, and ends with what I swear is a musical flourish.

[Audio Analysis]

Decibel Level: 127

Frequency Range: Unusual

Harmonic Content: 47% higher than expected

Note: Possible display behavior

But there's something about that roar that tickles my memory. Something familiar that I can't quite place, like a song you know but can't remember the name of. The creature takes another step forward, its movement a weird combination of threatening and... theatrical? Like it's performing for an audience rather than just approaching potential prey.

The Samsons are practically genuflecting now, pressing their cartoon faces to the bark. Their usual cel-shaded violence has been replaced by what looks like actual awe. Or maybe fear. Though from the way some of them are sneaking glances, it might be closer to celebrity worship.

The massive creature drops to all fours—which somehow makes it seem even bigger—and begins to circle me slowly. Its nostrils flare as it takes in my scent, which can't be pleasant given the mix of blood, sweat, and dissolved cartoon monkey currently coating my skin. But rather than recoiling, it leans in closer, taking deeper breaths.

"Personal space," I mutter, trying to scoot backward but finding myself hemmed in by the reverent Samsons. "Ever heard of it?"

The beast's head snaps up at the sound of my voice. For a split second, I see genuine surprise in those expressive eyes—then it rears back dramatically, losing its balance for a moment before catching itself. What follows is the most elaborate display of "I meant to do that" I've ever witnessed. It beats its chest, roars again (this time with a definite musical undertone), and struts in a small circle while shooting what I swear are challenging looks at any cartoon monkey that might dare to question its dignity.

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, sure. Very convincing. Totally meant to do that."

The creature stops mid-strut, tilting its head at me with an expression that reminds me of my sister Asha when she's trying to figure out if I'm making fun of her. And that's when it hits me—why that roar sounded so familiar, why the movement pattern seems so theatrical.

I'm looking at a Chookie? Well, not actually a Chookie—this isn't Starry Wars, after all. But something that evolved along similar lines. Some missing link between apes and humans that followed a very different path than the one in our history books.

"What are you?" I mutter, trying to put the pieces together. "Some kind of Yeti? Bigfoot? Sasquatch?"

The creature's response is to lean in close again, bringing its face near enough that I can feel its breath on my skin. This close, I catch an unexpected scent—something floral and musky that reminds me weirdly of the jasmine oil Aai used to wear on special occasions. Then it opens its mouth, and my world tilts sideways.

"Jaana," it says, in perfectly pronounced Urdu.

Oh.

Oh no.

This can't be happening.

The word hangs in the air between us, impossible and undeniable. Jaana. A term of endearment in Urdu, used specifically for addressing a romantic partner. Like "darling" or "beloved," but more intimate. The kind of word that makes Indian aunties giggle and uncles clear their throats uncomfortably.

And it just came out of the mouth of a three-meter-tall furry creature that looks like Chewbacca's prettier cousin.

[Cultural Analysis]

Language: Urdu

Word: "Jaana" (जाना)

Context: Romantic/Intimate

Usage: Courtship Initiation

Warning: Cross-species social protocols undefined

System Note: Unexpected parameter expansion

My brain tries to process this new reality. The careful grooming. The theatrical movements. The swagger. The perfume. All the pieces click into place with horrifying clarity—I'm not looking at just any evolved primate. I'm looking at a female evolved primate. A female evolved primate who apparently knows Urdu terms of endearment. And who's currently giving me the kind of look I used to see Sharma aunty give to fresh samosas.

"This isn't happening," I mutter. "I'm still in combat shock. Or maybe the cartoon monkey bites were venomous and I'm hallucinating."

The Chewsquatch—and I'm definitely calling her that now—lets out another musical roar, this one with distinctly flirtatious undertones. Then she turns to address the assembled Samsons, and what follows is the most surreal mating display I've ever witnessed.

[Ritual Analysis]

Type: Courtship Display

Elements Detected:

- Dominance assertion

- Territory marking

- Mate claiming

- Status establishment

Warning: Traditional parameters exceeded

Note: Subject experiencing unprecedented social evolution

She starts with a chest-beating display that would put King Kong to shame, but there's a rhythm to it—almost like she's drumming out a Bollywood song beat. Her massive arms move with surprising grace as she transitions into what I can only describe as interpretive dance, all while maintaining eye contact with me in a way that makes me wish I still had enough armor left to hide behind.

The Samsons watch in rapt attention, their cartoon faces showing a range of expressions from awe to envy to what looks suspiciously like "You go girl!" Their cel-shaded heads bob in unison with her movements, like the world's most disturbing backup dancers.

"Listen," I try, raising my hands placatingly, "I'm very flattered, but—"

She cuts me off with another roar, this one clearly directed at the cartoon monkeys. The message is unmistakable: "This one's mine." The Samsons respond by bowing even lower, some of them actually flattening themselves against the branch in submission. A few make appreciative hooting sounds that remind me uncomfortably of wedding guests encouraging the newlyweds.

[Status Update]

Social Standing: Elevated

Threat Level: Complicated

Relationship Status: Updating...

Local Hierarchy: Restructuring

System Note: Adaptation exceeding parameters

"This really isn't—I mean, I'm sure you're a lovely... person," I stammer, trying to back away but finding myself still hemmed in by genuflecting cartoon characters. "But there are so many reasons why this won't work. The height difference alone—"

She silences my protests by simply reaching down and scooping me up like I weigh nothing at all. In one smooth motion, she tosses me over her shoulder in a perfect fireman's carry—or cavewoman's carry, I suppose. The position gives me an uncomfortably close view of her impressively groomed fur, which definitely smells like some kind of flower I should recognize.

[Status Update]

Relationship: Initiated

Species: Chewsquatch (Female)

Intent: Pair Bonding

Survival Rating: Improving?

System Note: Unexpected but viable strategy

Warning: Cultural integration challenges pending

As my new... admirer carries me off into the misty canopy, the Samsons begin what sounds like a celebration. I catch glimpses of them performing what appears to be a cartoon version of a wedding dance, complete with impossibly elastic limbs and physics-defying acrobatics. Someone—I think it's a Humor variant—actually throws what looks like cartoon rice.

I'm reminded of all those times Aai lectured me about finding a nice girl and settling down. "Beta," she'd say, "you need someone strong, someone who can take care of herself." Well, at three meters tall and probably able to bench-press a small car, my new friend certainly fits that criteria.

Somehow, though, I don't think this is what Aai had in mind when she told me to expand my dating pool.

As we disappear into the jungle canopy, I hear the System chime one final update:

[Evolution Path: Unexpected

Survival Strategy: Non-standard

Relationship Status: It's Complicated

Cultural Exchange: Initiating

Warning: Previous parameters obsolete

Note: Subject continues to defy probability]

Well, at least I'm not being eaten by cartoon characters anymore.

Though given my current situation, I'm not entirely sure that's an improvement.