ISEKAI? More like ISE-WHY-ME?!

I fell on my back.

The adrenaline left me all at once, as if it had been torn from my throat. My muscles screamed. My breathing became hoarse, loud, ragged. Even my teeth hurt, as if the rage had dug down to the bone.

I stayed there for a few seconds, panting, eyes blank. The pain overwhelmed me. Every nerve was a scream. Every limb, a dead weight.

But I couldn't stay.

I knew it. The blood. The smell.

It attracted the wrong things.

I had to fight against my own body to get back up. Slowly. Shaking. Short of breath. But I did it. Because I had no choice.

I approached the two entangled corpses. The goblin had fallen onto the wolf during the fall. It was still warm. A kind of sickening heat oozed from its carcass.

I took a breath, then pushed its body aside.

And I bit.

No ceremony. No heroic courage.

I sank my teeth into the wolf's flank. Its flesh was warm, wet, sticky. The taste made me gag, but I kept going. I tore off strips of skin, muscle fibers, sometimes even pieces of cartilage. I chewed like a beast, without rhythm, without dignity.

I had never eaten raw meat. Let alone from an animal that had just died. I could taste the iron of the blood, the acridness of the guts. I was disgusted. But I continued.

Because I didn't know when the next chance would come.

Because I knew the world wouldn't give me anything twice.

It was a nightmarish scene.

A naked, trembling figure, tearing into a warm carcass with its teeth, fingers stained with blood, short of breath, dirty fangs.

An animal. A survivor.

Nothing more.

Once full—or rather, sickened to the point I could no longer swallow—I stood up. I was covered in blood. Mine. Theirs. It didn't matter. I left the broken end of the spear in the goblin's throat. It wouldn't serve me anymore. I could make another one later.

I ran. Stumbling, but fast.

I grabbed my vine. Then I headed to the river.

The water was icy. The night was already biting at my skin. But I had no choice. I had to wash. My smell. My blood. My tracks. I stepped in up to my knees. I scrubbed. My chest. My arms. My face. My legs. My scalp. Everywhere. I scrubbed until I could feel my nerves vibrating under the skin.

I stepped out, frozen, shivering from the cold.

Then I crossed the forest.

Just a few meters. Enough to get away from the carnage, but not too far—I didn't want to run into another creature. Not now.

I scanned the trees. Chose one—massive, tall, with thick branches.

I climbed.

High. Very high.

Higher than last time. Ten meters, maybe more. Every movement was torture. My muscles screamed. My fangs throbbed with pain. My claws, split, were bleeding slightly.

But I climbed.

And once up there, I tied myself to the trunk. Like before. With the same vine. Tighten just enough. Not too much. A living knot, between fear and instinct.

And finally… I let myself slump against the bark.

I had eaten. I had drunk.

I was above ground.

I just wanted to disappear.

Just sleep.

And this time, despite the stress, despite the trembling, despite all the still-warm blood on my fingers… sleep took me.

Not gently. Not tenderly.

But like a fall into a black well.

A dreamless sleep.

A hole from which I didn't know… if I'd ever rise again.

I opened my eyes, overwhelmed by the sunlight filtering through the canopy.

Green and golden glimmers slid across my filthy skin.

My body... no longer hurt.

No more pain in my arms. No more throbbing in my fangs. Even my claws, though split the day before, seemed less sensitive.

Was it due to that violet light that had passed through me? Or a natural regeneration for goblins? I had no idea.

But I was... light. Not strong. Not rested. But better.

And above all... ready.

Ready to make the necessary efforts, again. Ready to survive, one more day, in this forest that wanted me dead.

No time to waste.

I climbed down from the tree, quietly, senses alert. Every step measured, every movement controlled. This time, my priority was silence.

I went back to the corpses.

Or rather… what was left of them.

And there I saw.

Bones. Nothing else. Not a shred of flesh. Not a drop of blood. The carcasses had been cleaned. Thoroughly. Voraciously. Something had passed through here last night.

Something ravenous.

A shiver crawled up my spine.

But I didn't linger on the fear. Not this time. I had studied medicine, before. And bones… bones always held more value than people thought.

I examined them one by one, in this frozen post-carnage scene. I spotted two pieces.

The wolf's scapula. Light. Wide. Easy to shape. And its femur. Long. Straight. Solid. About thirty centimeters. Perfect for a handle.

I took them.

I sat near the rock where I had sharpened my first spear. And I carved. For a long time. The piece of stone scraped, bit, sawed.

And soon...

I held my first real weapon.

It wasn't pretty. It had nothing noble about it. But it was mine.

The handle, a bleached femur, still warm, polished on the stone, cleaned of its tendons. Rough, stained in places with a dark brown—like a memory of the beast.

And the blade... A crudely carved scapula. Irregular edges, but sharp. A split, curved tooth, bristling with asperities. A natural point, enhanced with stone. Not straight. Not perfect.

But deadly.

I had fastened it to the handle with black vines, hand-woven, tightened until they cut the flesh. Three ties. Three joints. Like the limbs of a sleeping monster.

When I raised the weapon to the light, it cast a distorted, almost grotesque shadow on the surrounding trunks.

It had nothing human. Nothing artificial.

It was something raw.

Organic. Wild.

As if the forest had lent me a tooth.

A fang torn from its maw.

It wasn't a man's weapon.

It wasn't a beast's weapon.

It was a survivor's weapon.

And for the first time… I felt armed.

Ready.

But I mustn't grow overconfident. Not here. Not now.

This world had its own law. And in that law, I was at the very bottom. A prey. A walking accident. A morsel.

I could die at every step, for a single misplaced sound, a wrong scent, a glance caught too soon.

So I drank.

Not from thirst.

But from instinct.

Because I didn't know what would come next.

Because I didn't want to lack anything when the moment came.

No water. No energy. No excuse.

I filled my belly at the river, then stood.

I walked. Slowly. Quietly. Each step placed like a promise.

The ground was uneven, spongy, trapped with moisture. My feet sometimes slipped on the dark roots, but I caught myself without a sound.

Around me, the forest lived.

Not like a friend. Not like a backdrop. Like a beast.

The leaves rustled in an unpredictable rhythm. Branches cracked in the distance, or above. Sometimes, an animal cry echoed through the trunks, distorted by the distance, like a warning not even aimed at me.

But I heard it.

And it reached me.

My hands clenched my weapon. Hard. Too hard. My fingers were numb. The femur barely slipping under my sweat. But I didn't let go.

I mustn't.

Then I came across a group of vines.

Not black this time. But brown, twisted, sturdy. Hanging in garlands from one trunk to another. Perfect.

I raised my weapon.

I slashed.

The fibers gave way with a sharp snap. The scapula blade worked. Not like a sword. But like a claw. A claw I had made. And that was enough.

I gathered the vines one by one, quickly braided them between my fingers. Then I tied them to the surrounding trunks, stretched at ankle height, discreet, invisible beneath the dead leaves. A circle. Not perfect. But enough to trip something.

Once the trap was set, I climbed a tree. Not as high as the day before. Just enough. A rough trunk, thick branches. The bark scraped my legs, but I didn't care.

Once up high, I wedged my back against the trunk. I pulled out my vine. And tied myself.

Not too tight.

Not like a prisoner.

Just enough not to fall if I dozed off.

I closed my eyes for a moment. Not to sleep.

Just to listen.

The wind. The creaks. The distant noises.

This world... had no heart.

But I was still alive.

So I had to think.

Hiding in a tree wouldn't lead anywhere. I'd gotten lucky once. But that kind of luck... it wouldn't come again. Not on its own. Not for free.

I had to provoke my own evolution.

I had to find something.

Something to hunt. To trap.

Something that would feed me. Strengthen me.

That would let me absorb that violet light. That strange fluid that, I knew, was the key.

If this really was a world like those damn isekai, then that glow... was experience.

The essence of progress.

The fuel of evolution.

And I couldn't wait for it to fall from the sky a second time.

I had to get moving.

But not like a beast.

Not like a primitive goblin.

Think.

Analyze.

Plan.

That was my true strength. Not my fangs. Not my claws. Not this scrawny, naked body forced upon me.

What set me apart from monsters, from other goblins, from the things that roamed the night, was my brain.

My memories.

My human knowledge.

My civilized survival instinct.

I wasn't strong. I wasn't fast. I wasn't born in this world.

But I had something else.

And I was going to use it.