Mike hit the ground hard enough to see stars.

  Not metaphorical stars.

  Actual glowing particles fizzed across his vision like cosmic confetti before fading.

  His knees slammed into dirt, his palms scraped something rough, and for a long moment, he just knelt there on hands and knees, panting, coughing, trying not to throw up.

  The world was no longer white.

  It was green.

  And brown.

  And loud.

  The first thing he heard was wind. Strong, violent gusts tearing through thick foliage overhead. Leaves rustled in waves, creating a constant ocean-like roar.

  The second thing he heard was insects. Chirping, clicking, buzzing — but deeper, heavier, more alien than any he recognized.

  And below it all, so subtle he almost didn’t perceive it, a low, rhythmic tremor. Footsteps. Heavy ones. Far, but not far enough.

  He slowly lifted his head.

  A forest stretched out in every direction. Towering trees with dark, thick trunks covered in spiraling moss. Branches so entwined that the sky above was more shadow than daylight. Lianas and vines dangled like traps waiting to be sprung. Strange glowing fungi pulsed at the bases of roots, casting dim bioluminescent patches.

  In the far distance, something howled.

  Not wolf-like. Deeper. More resonant.

  A predator’s call.

  Mike’s skin crawled.

  “Fantastic,” he muttered. “He didn’t just drop me into a forest, he dropped me into the forest that scares other forests.”

  He slowly rose to his feet.

  Then froze.

  He was naked.

  Again.

  He closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose.

  “Really. We’re doing this again.”

  He wrapped one arm around himself instinctively, more out of mortified instinct than anything else. But modesty ranked very low on the hierarchy of current problems.

  Somewhere above him, a branch cracked.

  He jerked his head upward, heart pounding.

  Nothing visible.

  But there was movement. Definitely movement.

  He scanned the forest floor quickly, hoping for a big leaf, a piece of bark, anything he could tie around himself. He found none. Either this place didn’t produce modesty-approved plant material or everything here preferred eating intruders.

  “Okay,” he whispered to himself. “Okay. Mike. Think. You’re in a deadly tutorial zone. No System integration. No class. No stats. No weapons. No clothes. Just… vibes. That’s all you’ve got. Pure ape instincts and sarcasm.”

  He clenched his fists.

  Then winced, because his palms were already scraped raw from the landing.

  “…I need a weapon,” he murmured.

  A stick. A rock. Hell, a slightly angry squirrel would do.

  He bent down and picked up the nearest object that looked vaguely stick-like.

  It snapped in half immediately.

  He stared at the useless fragments.

  “…cool. Great. Incredible start.”

  A deep rumbling groan echoed somewhere to his left.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  He nearly dropped the broken twig.

  That sound carried weight. Mass. Something big moving through brush. Something heavy enough to shake branches.

  Predation Groves.

  He remembered the override notification for a split second before falling through the white room:

  [ZONE: ADVANCED PREDATION GROVES]

  [LEVEL SCALING: DISABLED]

  [NEW PLAYER FLAG: OFF]

  He wasn’t sure what any of that meant in precise technical terms…

  …but he was fairly confident it translated to:

  “Mike, you are screwed.”

  He took a few unsteady steps backward until he felt a large tree trunk at his back. He pressed against it, trying to slow his breathing.

  His eyes flicked around the forest, scanning for anything out of place.

  Everything was out of place.

  The Groves felt alive in a way Earth forests never did. The air felt charged. Heavy with mana he had no way of using. He could taste it on his tongue — metallic, electric, sharp.

  A chill ran down his spine.

  Then he remembered Wigglrox.

  The demon’s horrified expression.

  “Do not move. Do not touch anything. Do not… exist too loudly.”

  Mike mumbled under his breath.

  “Well, great advice, Wigglrox, but I am currently existing as quietly as humanly possible and still feel like something is aiming for my butt.”

  He forced himself to breathe.

  He needed to survive the next minute. Then the minute after that. And so on.

  He looked around again.

  No immediate threats.

  Good.

  He needed to find shelter. A cave? A hollow tree? A depression in the ground? Anything that would let him hide and regroup.

  He took a cautious step forward—

  A twig snapped behind him.

  He froze.

  Slowly, very slowly, he turned his head.

  Nothing visible.

  But the forest had gone eerily still.

  Even the insects quieted.

  He didn’t know whether that was good or bad.

  Then—

  A low growl vibrated through the ground.

  Very close.

  Too close.

  Mike swallowed.

  “…Hello?”

  Silence.

  Then, from behind a cluster of thick ferns, something moved. A massive shape. Broad. Heavy. Covered in dark fur.

  It took one step into the dim light patch.

  A bear.

  A huge bear.

  But not any bear Mike had ever seen. This one had fur so thick it looked like living armor. Massive claws that dug trenches into the soil. A head as big as a boulder. Eyes burning with primal rage — and something almost intelligent beneath.

  Its breaths were harsh, misting in the cool air as it stared at him.

  Mike’s throat closed.

  “Nope,” he whispered. “Nope nope nope—”

  The bear roared.

  The sound shattered the silence of the forest like a physical blow. Birds erupted from the treetops. Smaller animals bolted through underbrush. The ground shook beneath Mike’s feet.

  He stumbled backward.

  The bear charged.

  Mike turned and ran.

  He ran like a man whose life depended on it — because it absolutely did.

  Branches whipped against his face. His feet smashed against roots and stones. He ducked, jumped, swerved between trees, gasping for air.

  Behind him, the bear’s thunderous footsteps crashed through the forest, demolishing anything in its path. The roars echoed off the trees.

  “THIS IS NOT A BEGINNER TUTORIAL!” Mike screamed, dodging a low-hanging branch. “VHALZREX, YOU ABSOLUTE DEMONIC ASSHOLE!”

  He slammed his shoulder into a tree trunk, but didn’t stop. The pain shot through him, sharp and immediate.

  He kept running.

  He had no plan. No idea where he was going. Just raw panic and the primal need not to die.

  A root caught his foot.

  He stumbled — barely caught himself — and kept running.

  Behind him, the bear grew closer, the sound of its breath almost at his heels.

  He risked a glance over his shoulder.

  It was maybe fifteen meters away.

  Ten.

  Eight.

  “Oh come on!” he gasped. “This is supposed to be a game tutorial! Not a wildlife documentary!”

  His lungs burned. His legs felt like molten lead. Every instinct screamed that this was it — the end.

  Then the ground vanished.

  He’d reached a slope he hadn’t seen in time.

  Mike tumbled down it violently — rolling, flipping, slamming into rocks and roots. Dirt filled his mouth. His shoulder smashed against something sharp. His vision flashed with pain.

  He landed at the bottom in a heap, face first in a layer of mud, his entire body screaming protests.

  He spat out dirt.

  “Ugh— That’s— That’s the worst thing I’ve ever tasted—”

  The forest above him shook.

  The bear had reached the top of the slope.

  It roared again, louder than before.

  Mike crawled backward on instinct.

  The bear began descending.

  It wasn’t graceful. It was barely controlled. But it didn’t need grace. It had raw power, massive weight, claws that could anchor it on steep surfaces.

  Mike scrambled to his feet.

  He looked around frantically.

  Still no weapon.

  Still no advantage.

  Still naked.

  He backed up until he hit a fallen log.

  The bear reached the bottom.

  It stood there, towering over him, breathing like thunder.

  This was it.

  This was how he died.

  Mike closed his eyes.

  Then—

  A whisper.

  No, not a whisper. A hum.

  A faint, electric tingle rushed up his spine, spreading into his fingers. His heart stuttered. His nerves burned in a strange, almost familiar pattern.

  The bear took another step.

  Mike’s eyes snapped open.

  He didn’t think.

  He didn’t plan.

  He simply acted.

  He grabbed the broken half of a branch — the only thing near his feet — and braced himself.

  The bear lunged.

  Mike swung the branch with every ounce of terrified strength he had.

  Just as it connected—

  A spark jumped from his fingers.

  A sharp, white, electric spark.

  Not enough to be a lightning bolt. Not even close.

  But enough to make the bear flinch mid-charge.

  Enough to buy him one breath.

  Mike stumbled backward, chest heaving. “What— What was that—?”

  The bear shook its head, regaining focus, snarling now with full killing intent.

  Mike lifted the useless stick again.

  “Okay,” he whispered. “Okay. You want round two?”

  He didn’t think he could win.

  But he knew he wouldn’t go down quietly.

  He tightened his grip—

  The bear lunged—

  And—

  Time froze.

  Everything stopped.

  The bear halted mid-air, suspended inches from Mike’s face, claws outstretched, teeth bared.

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