The sky darkened far quicker than I expected. Dusk arrived with a vengeance, swallowing the light in a shroud of shadows. The sun had only just touched the horizon minutes ago, or so it seemed, but now it was gone—replaced by a bruised sky teetering on the edge of black. A fleeting warmth evaporated with the retreating light, leaving a chill in its wake that seeped into my bones. I cursed myself for not seeking shelter earlier. My eagerness to unravel the secrets of the book had clouded my judgment.

Now, I stood in a vast forest that pulsed with an unsettling vitality. The trees towered like ancient sentinels, their twisted branches clawing at the heavens. The forest was far from silent—whispers of wind slithered between the trunks, carrying with them the scent of damp earth and something faintly metallic, like blood on iron.

The air felt heavier with each passing moment, oppressive and thick, pressing down on me like a tangible force. Visibility dwindled to mere paces ahead. The shadows shifted and danced—not with the randomness of wind or light, but with intention.

They felt alive. Watching. Waiting.

My heart thudded in my chest as I scanned my surroundings. The tree I had rested against earlier now seemed my only viable option. Its thick, gnarled trunk promised some measure of protection, and there were no signs of nests or lurking creatures—at least, none that I could see. It would have to do.

Suddenly, my stomach growled, the pain sharper and more insistent than before. A burning ache tore through my gut, demanding attention. I clutched my abdomen, gasping at the intensity. It was as if my body had only just remembered its hunger after being consumed by the day's exertions.

Why now? I wondered. The pain was unlike anything I'd experienced—raw, primal, consuming. My thoughts drifted back to the book's teachings: Pranayama—the control of breath and energy. It can suppress desires, even hunger, if practiced correctly.

Desperation forced me to act. I sat cross-legged beneath the tree, closed my eyes, and began the practice. My breathing slowed—each inhalation deep and deliberate, each exhalation a conscious release of tension. The ache dulled—not gone, but manageable. Like a distant echo rather than a scream.

But the calm was fragile. The forest refused to let me forget how exposed I was. Leaves rustled ominously, distant growls echoed between the trees, and the occasional snap of a twig sent my pulse racing.

I can't stay on the ground. Not like this. I'd be easy prey.

Groaning, I forced my aching body to move. My limbs trembled with fatigue as I climbed the tree, each branch a battle. I found a sturdy limb high above the forest floor and settled there, pressing my back against the trunk. It was far from comfortable, but it offered a semblance of safety.

The stars gleamed above—cold and distant, like the eyes of silent watchers. I began counting them, desperate for distraction.

One, two, three… sixty-six…

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Before I knew it, sleep claimed me.

I woke to a strange heaviness. My limbs felt pinned, a crushing weight pressing down on my chest. Dazed and disoriented, I blinked into the darkness, trying to shake off the lingering fog of sleep. The world spun for a heartbeat before coming into sharp, terrifying focus.

A snake.

It was coiled around me, its muscular body wrapped tightly around my torso, pinning my arms to my sides. Its head hovered just inches from my face, its cold, unblinking eyes locked onto mine.

My breath hitched. Every instinct screamed at me to thrash, to break free, but I knew better. One wrong move, one sudden motion, and it would strike.

The serpent's scales gleamed faintly in the starlight, a pattern of silver and black that seemed to ripple like water. It shifted slightly, its coils tightening just enough to remind me of its strength. My heart hammered against my ribs, panic rising like a tide.

How did it get here? How long has it been watching me?

The snake lifted its head, tilting it in a disturbingly human-like manner. Then it spoke.

"Awake at last, little wanderer?"

Its voice was soft, almost melodic, but with a sinister undertone that sent a chill racing down my spine.

What is this thing? I thought, panic returning. Its size… its aura… Could it be a demonic beast at Core Formation level or higher?

Before I could think further, the serpent's head snapped toward me, its golden eyes burning with irritation.

"Don't compare me to those crude beasts, mortal."

I froze. My thoughts ground to a halt. It had responded to my internal voice.

"You think too loudly," it continued, its voice dripping with amusement. "Your thoughts are like echoes in an empty hall—impossible to ignore."

It can hear my thoughts. My skin prickled with fear. This isn't an ordinary creature—not even a high-level demonic beast.

"You're finally catching on," it said, eyes narrowing. "But don't mistake me for something so… simple."

"What… what are you?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.

The serpent chuckled—a low, hissing sound that resonated deep in my bones. "A guardian," it said, its tongue flicking out to taste the air. "Of these woods… and of the book you carry. You've stirred something ancient, something that watches those who dare seek its knowledge."

A guardian? Of the book? My mind raced. The book had warned of trials, but nothing like this.

"I—I'm not here to cause trouble," I stammered. "I only want to grow stronger."

The serpent's eyes gleamed with an unsettling light. "Strength? Is that what you think you'll find? Foolish. Strength comes at a price, one you've only begun to pay."

It slithered closer, its head level with mine. "Tell me, little one… have you chosen yet? Will you starve for 108 days or take the longer path of patience and meditation?"

I froze. "How do you know about the challenge?"

The serpent smiled—or at least, it seemed to. "I know many things. Few survive the path of starvation. It breaks them, piece by piece. Even those who endure… are never the same."

Its voice dropped to a whisper. "But if you succeed, the rewards will be unlike anything you've imagined. Strength beyond the mortal frame… a glimpse of what lies beyond the limits of flesh."

Temptation gripped me. The promise was too grand, too alluring.

"What would you choose?" I asked cautiously.

The serpent's eyes sparkled with a strange, knowing light. "Ah… clever. But it's not my choice to make. However, I can tell you this: the path you choose will reveal who you truly are. The impatient burn bright and fade fast. The patient become unshakable."

It began to uncoil, its body sliding down the tree with eerie grace, leaving me free at last.

"Choose wisely, little wanderer," it hissed, disappearing into the shadows. "I will be watching."

I sat motionless for a long time, the weight of its words sinking in. My heart still thundered in my chest, but my mind churned with possibilities.

The forest grew silent once more. The stars above seemed dimmer now, as if hiding their light from the choices yet to be made.

And somewhere, just beyond the edge of sight, I knew the serpent waited. Watching. Waiting.