The corpse at Theo’s feet twitched its last, lifeblood steaming against the cold air. The scavenger pack—feral, predatory, wolf-like beasts—stood in a semi-circle, their hunched figures silhouetted against the fire’s glow. Their yellow eyes gleamed, their nostrils flaring as they scented their fallen packmate.

Theo’s heart pounded in his ears, but he didn’t let it show. They were waiting—gauging him, weighing their options.

He rolled his shoulders, deliberately slow, making a show of wiping blood off his hands onto his torn shirt.

Then, an absolutely insane plan began to form. He wasn’t especially well read when it came to pack animals, but made the assumption he had just killed their alpha. Perhaps if he acted like the bigger threat, he could convince them to clear off.

This was really his only chance, as an actual fight with limited energy in his mesh would only spell disaster.

He crouched over the dead scavenger, grabbed it by the scruff of the neck, standing directly over it as he gazed into the eyes of each subsequent beast without blinking.

Then, he bared his teeth.

“Mine!” His voice boomed, mocking, taunting before putting his mouth against the neck of the corpse and pretending to eat, as if claiming his prize.

It was one of the most grotesque things he had ever done, but he ensured that the blood pouring from the head wound and down the neck of the creature covered his mouth. Standing up as tall and wide as he could—adopting the ‘gym bro guy pretending he was carrying carpets everywhere’ pose—he began to growl fiercely at the cautious beasts.

He stomped a foot, his kinetic mesh suit crackling with the absorbed force. “More!”

The scavengers tensed, some snarling, their claws twitching—but they didn’t attack.

One of the smaller ones whined, lowering itself instinctively.

Oh my God, it’s working. Keep pushing.

Theo pulled his right leg back, ensuring he would generate sufficient force into his strike before unleashing a powerful, kinetically charged kick into the corpse of the former Alpha, sending it flying towards the pack.

He consciously aimed just in front of the scavengers in a bid to show dominance and not provide an outright attack that may provoke them to fight back.

“I’ve killed one of you already.” His voice dropped to a low, guttural growl. “And I’ll tear through the rest of you if I have to.”

The next most dominant scavenger—larger than the rest, its ragged fur lined with scars—locked eyes with him. The challenge was clear.

Theo held the stare, growling like a beast with no equal. No hesitation. No weakness.

The moment stretched, silent but thick with tension.

Then—

The leader let out a sharp, guttural huff and turned away.

One by one, the rest followed, their yellow eyes lingering on Theo before disappearing into the trees.

Theo refused to let his power pose go until the pack was long out of sight before exhaling slowly, letting the false bravado drain from his muscles.

How, in the name of Jesus H Christ, did that work? He thought to himself, looking around the clearing to ascertain his next steps.

For now, he had a new problem, because of course he did.

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Theo crouched down begrudgingly, staring at the dead scavenger.

Meat is meat.

His stomach growled, but his mind rebelled.

He dragged a hand down his face, wiping away some of the dried blood from his earlier fight. Survival wasn’t pretty. He’d seen enough post-apocalyptic movies and survival shows to know that desperate people do desperate things. But knowing it and doing it himself?

That was a different thing entirely. It became quickly apparent that Theo was a delicate little flower when it came to the wilds.

Now. How the hell do you make a fire?

Theo had never made a fire before in his life.

Okay, basic knowledge would indicate that one needed dry sticks and kindling, preferably in an enclosed space. That’s simple enough.

With a starting point in mind, he set about the clearing, looking for an assemblage of dried foliage and rocks.

----------------------------------------

A longer time than he would have liked went by. He stared at the pile of dried grass and twigs he’d gathered and exhaled sharply. Alright, think. What do the people in those survival shows do?

He scanned the area and started picking up small stones, feeling their rough, uneven edges. He tried banging two together, but nothing happened except for a dull clack.

"Yup. Great start, Theo. Move aside, Bear Grylls. Next up: accidentally setting myself on fire."

Still, he’d seen this work before. The people on TV always build a ring of rocks first, right? He might have made that up.

He arranged the stones in a small circle, a crude attempt at a fire pit. It was lopsided and looked ridiculously pathetic, but it was something. He filled the middle with the dried sticks, bark, and crumpled leaves he had managed to gather.

"Alright. Next part. Fire… This is where I’m fucked."

He grabbed two rocks that looked kind of similar to the ones he’d seen in survival shows—one was dark and smooth, the other more jagged.

With a deep breath, he smashed them together, hoping to generate a spark like they do in the movies.

A loud crack rang out, and his vision flickered as the rocks shattered.

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Theo flinched so hard he nearly backflipped. His suit crackled in response. “Oh, for fu—stop trying to kill me, you overengineered traitor.”

Jesus fuck!

He looked around wildly, instinctively dropping lower, scanning the treeline.

Did anyone hear that? Was something watching?

The forest was silent. Too silent.

His breath came out in slow, measured puffs, forcing himself to calm down.

Alright, clown. You just moved too fast, and the mesh thought it was an attack.

But that got him thinking.

If the rapid movement of his limbs triggered a kinetic charge, then maybe...

He gripped some new rocks again, this time slower, steadier.

Strike carefully, without the suit kicking in quite so violently.

He tapped them together again—nothing.

Again—this time, a faint spark flickered, but it was gone too quickly.

He tried a few more times, frustration mounting. Then, on the seventh strike, the spark caught on the dried leaves as he found the perfect small boost of force.

Theo’s eyes widened.

The ember smouldered, its fragile light barely clinging to life. Theo held his breath. One wrong move and it was gone.

“Holy shit.”

He leaned in, cupping his hands near the fragile glow, and gently blew.

Please, don’t go out, he thought, eyes wide with anticipation.

The ember flared brighter, curling into the thin, crumpled fibres of the bark.

A second later, a tiny flame bloomed.

Theo sat back, stunned, a grin slowly breaking across his face.

“Theo Kane, you are now the master of survival and lord of flame.”

The tiny flame was pathetic, barely bigger than his thumb, but it was a start.

He carefully fed it more dry twigs, making sure not to smother it. Slowly, it grew, crackling softly in the darkness.

The fire’s warm glow flickered against his hands.

It was the first real warmth he’d felt since arriving in this nightmare.

Theo sat there for a second, just watching it, the soft pop and crackle of burning wood filling the empty void of the night that was settling into place.

Then his gaze drifted back to the dead scavenger.

His stomach twisted. His fire was ready.

Now he had to decide if he was actually going to do this.

His stomach groaned its own argument, but his mind recoiled.

Theo had grown up homeless, brawled in back alleys and fought in cages. But this?

He poked at the corpse’s fur-covered arm, his lips curling.

Yeah. No. That’s—nope. That’s fucked. Absolutely not. No way. …But also, maybe. Mostly nope.

Despite the oversized mongrel’s grotesque and savage appearance, he still couldn’t help but feel bad for the creature. It was only looking for food, exactly like Theo was. Worse, he actually had a pack to feed.

He ran a hand through his hair, still slick with drying blood, and forced himself to breathe.

Think, idiot. You need food. You need energy. You don’t have options. It’s already dead. It can feed the worms, or you.

But how the hell was he supposed to prepare this?

He had no proper knife. No cooking gear. Just his wits, a fire, and a sinking feeling that Erasmus would be cackling his tits off if he could see this.

Theo muttered, "That old bastard probably eats in luxury while I’m sitting here deciding if I want to turn into a goddamn savage."

His fingers tightened. Survival was simple. You eat, or you die.

He knew this was going to be so much worse than traditional hunting without tools. He would have to use his bare hands to claw and rip his way through the corpse.

He hesitated.

Then pushed down.

The skin resisted, tougher than expected. He had to tear through it, grimacing as blood oozed from the wound, pooling dark against the dirt.

His stomach turned.

After a gruelling ordeal—one that frankly, no one should ever have to hear about—filled with retching, quiet sobbing, and a horror show of flying body parts, Theo eventually ended up with several rough, charred piles of meat, having butchered the bulk of the corpse into useless waste.

He eyed the blackened edges, the burnt crisp giving way to the tough, fibrous texture beneath. He had intentionally overcooked it, making sure it was seared beyond question—if he was going to do this, food poisoning wasn’t about to be what killed him.

He wiped his sweat-slicked brow with the back of his hand, his stomach twisting with a mix of nausea and stubborn resolve.

"My God, I hate this world."

The words left his mouth without force, a tired, broken mantra as he sat back, watching the fire dance around his questionable meal.

He took a deep breath.

Then, he ate.

The first bite was—

Bad. Really, really bad.

It was chewy. The taste was a cross between burnt leather and something slightly metallic.

But it stayed down.

He swallowed, wiping his mouth, feeling both triumphant and disgusted.

Then he felt it. A deep vibration under his hands.in the distant forest.

Theo’s vision overlay kicked in, scanning for motion.

Nothing.

Then—

A thunderous step. The ground trembled.

Theo’s breath caught in his throat. He turned his head slowly, ears straining.

Another step. Closer this time.

The scavengers had been a threat. But this? This was different.

The trees swayed unnaturally, their massive trunks creaking as something colossal moved behind them.

The size… the weight of it…

Theo hastily shovelled the remaining charred meat and a few stones into his bag, preparing to run so hard that he would leave his skeleton behind.

The shadows shifted, a shape just barely visible between the distant trees.

Then—

Silence.

Theo waited. Muscles tense.

The next step never came. Whatever it was—it had stopped, could it be watching?

Then, just as quietly as it had arrived—

It was gone.

Theo let out a slow, measured breath.

That was certainly NOT a scavenger.

His fingers twitched, but he knew better. If that thing had wanted him dead, it would have done it already.

He exhaled, rubbing his hands over his face.

“How did I end up in this hellmouth?” He muttered. “I hate it so, so much.”

The fire crackled softly.

Theo stared at the tree line. He had two choices:

1. Investigate the thing that just made every scavenger in the area seem like a wild, miniature jelly baby.

2. Pack up and leave.

His gut told him one thing.

Whatever that was—it wasn’t hunting him. Not yet.

But if he stayed in this area too long?

It might.

Theo stood, shaking the tension from his arms.

Let’s get the fuck out of dodge.