Snap out of it.

Tom shook his head, as if he had just been hallucinating all along before. His movements were jerky and slow as he forced himself to turn back around and begin walking in the same direction he was before, fighting back both his racing heartbeat and his desire to make a break for it.

Intrusive thoughts barraged his mind, some wanting him to fight the enemy head on, others egging him to take a gamble and see if he could outrun the beast.

He was officially in the worst case scenario now. Not only had he encountered a beast with a higher levelled card than any he possessed, it also seemed to be more intelligent than the beasts he’d encountered so far.

This was a bona fide predator, staking him from the shadows.

That raised a question.

Why hadn’t the beast attacked yet?

Stealthy glances were all he allowed himself as he ambled forward, attempting to replicate his earlier pace as he creeped from one tree to the next.

[The Shadow] didn’t sound like a particularly offensive card, yet the beast had managed to kill enough of its brethren monsters or perhaps other humans, though Tom thought that possibility unlikely, to level it to level three.

Maybe it didn’t have a long-range attack method.

Tom thought about it, looking back at the last two hours. If the [Elfinclaw] had been stalking him all that while, it surely had plenty of opportunities to take a shot at him from afar. One that he’d never see coming.

Instead, it chose to silently stalk him.

The beast could be a sadist. One that liked to torment its prey before finishing it off.

The thought sent chills down his spine, but Tom forced himself to discard it. That wasn’t a rational line of thinking. If the beast was so arrogant, it wouldn’t have climbed to Level 3 when the powerful [Symiril Boars] failed.

A thought struck his mind.

The beast had cloaked itself in what looked to be a cloud of shadows. Maybe it wasn’t too confident in its physical abilities? No, that sounded unlikely. So far, he’d describe none of the creatures he’d encountered as weak.

Intelligence.

The beast was intelligent, atleast moreso than the beasts he’d encountered so far. A crocodile was plenty powerful, yet it used stealth to kill unaware foes with a single blow. This [Eflinclaw] had to be similar.

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If Tom’s ruse had worked, the beast shouldn’t be aware that he was aware of its presence.

He had, after all, chosen to stay rooted where most would instinctively flee. The only reason Tom didn’t was because he placed little faith in his physical body, not at all confident in outrunning the beast and…. running blindly, as he’d learned from experience, could have even worse consequences.

For a second, Tom tried to think from the perspective of the beast.

How would he feel if, time after time, he killed from the comfort of the shadows? His foe caught unaware, because it was too stupid to think that anything beyond a head-on confrontation existed. Back on Earth, the physiologically weaker humans could kill any animal, because they did not have either the intelligence or the means to detect a long-range ambush.

No matter how smart a lion or a tiger was, it meant little in the face of a sniper rifle.

The beast must feel superior. Clever. Unique.

Of course, Tom’s assumptions were merely that. Assumptions.

But he didn’t see how he could break the deadlock otherwise. The beast could outrun him, most likely. If he begun to sprint wildly it would chase, and the odds were he’d run into another beast.

A more volatile strategy would be to simply burn everything behind him as he ran… but that seemed unlikely too. Not that Tom was particularly concerned about razing the forest, but more like he couldn’t. In his encounter with the [Ankra Beast], the damn thing had sprayed its flames all over the place yet the forest hadn’t gone in flames yet. How many beasts were there in the forest that could spew flames? And with their intelligence….

If that was possible, the forest would already be up in flames.

No, that wouldn’t work.

The one, and quite possibly only chance he had to kill his silent persuer was that he knew of the enemy’s existence, but the enemy did not yet truly know him.

That was the beauty of humans, for Tom would wager that every one of his kind would react differently if they were placed in his situation. Subtle differences they might be, but the individuality of his kind couldn’t be denied.

The beast hadn’t attacked yet. The reason was simple.

Tom hadn’t shown any vulnerability yet. Sure, his back was exposed, but he’d still managed to notice the beast in the end. Moreover, in Artezia, where people likely had superhuman reflexes, an exposed back didn’t necessarily mean an outright advantage.

Did the beast sense the threat coming off from the card in his hand?

Possibly.

Till now, Tom had been steadfast in his resolve to maintain caution and continue moving, albeit slowly. He’d never stopped to experiment with his cards and now he was thankful he’d made that decision.

His next idea was even crazier than the last.

Or rather, his previous idea had been more experimental. This one was reckless but grounded in theory.

Tom couldn’t allow a third-party to continually stalk him, not on the very likely chance that he would stumble upon another beast. He could deal with threats on one front, but the opportunist [Elfinclaw] would likely finish him off the moment it saw an opportunity.

No, Tom had to fight back.

He scanned his surroundings, looking for the the place where he’d make his stand.

Tom’s eyes lit up when he spotted a set of gnarly roots jutting out from the earth, tracing back to one of the wide trees. Twenty meters separated him from the gnarled root, giving him enough time to mentally compose himself.

If he fumbled this, there would be no second chance.