Understood.
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Chapter 13
Ren surfaced from darkness choking.
Cold water burned his lungs as he coughed violently, rolling onto his side while mud and pebbles dug into his skin. Each breath scraped his throat raw, dragging up water and blood in equal measure. His body convulsed, muscles screaming as they tried—and failed—to respond properly.
He was alive.
That fact alone felt unreal.
Ren lay there for a long time, chest heaving, vision swimming as the world slowly came back into focus. The sound of rushing water echoed faintly nearby, no longer the deafening roar that had dragged him under, but a distant, steady flow.
I didn't drown…
His fingers twitched.
Pain answered immediately.
Every inch of his body felt bruised or worse. His ribs throbbed with a deep, internal ache. His left thigh burned where muscle had been torn earlier, and his right shoulder protested sharply when he tried to move it.
Ren groaned and forced his eyes open.
The sky above him was visible only in fragments, broken by interwoven branches and thick leaves. Sunlight filtered through in narrow shafts, illuminating dust motes drifting lazily in the air.
This wasn't the riverbank.
He slowly turned his head.
He was inside something.
Not a cave—not exactly. The walls around him were formed from massive tree roots, thick and twisted, arching inward and upward to create a natural dome. Stone and hardened soil reinforced the structure, packed tightly between the roots as if shaped over centuries by flowing water and pressure.
A natural shelter.
Ren swallowed.
The river must have carried him downstream before depositing him here—into a recess carved by erosion, hidden from above, protected on all sides.
Lucky… or deliberate?
He didn't like that thought.
Ren stayed still for several more minutes, focusing on slow, controlled breathing. He let his mana circulate gently, not to heal—he didn't have that luxury—but to stabilize his body and prevent shock.
Gradually, the shaking subsided.
When he finally pushed himself into a sitting position, he did it inch by inch, jaw clenched against the pain. His vision blurred, then steadied.
He was still alive.
That alone meant he couldn't waste the opportunity.
Ren began to survey his surroundings carefully.
The shelter wasn't large—perhaps five meters across—but it was deep enough to conceal him completely from above. Thick roots formed natural pillars, some wide enough to hide behind. The ground sloped gently toward a narrow opening where water trickled in and drained back out, keeping the area damp but not flooded.
He was defensible.
And dangerous.
Ren's gaze shifted downward.
Scattered across the floor were bones.
Small ones.
Animal bones, mostly—rodents, birds, small beasts—but there were a lot of them. Too many to be coincidence. Some were old and bleached, others darker, fresher.
This place isn't empty.
A chill crept up Ren's spine.
He forced himself to stand.
The movement sent a wave of dizziness through him, but he held on, bracing one hand against a root until the world stopped spinning. He checked his equipment with slow, methodical movements.
His sword—still intact, though dulled further. The remaining vine ropes—partially torn, but usable. No food. No clean water besides what filtered through the shelter.
Mana: dangerously low.
Ren exhaled through his nose.
I need to rest… but I can't relax.
This arena punished complacency.
He took a careful step forward, then another, testing his balance. Each movement hurt, but nothing felt immediately broken. That was a small mercy.
Ren approached the narrow opening and peered out.
Dense vegetation concealed the entrance almost perfectly. Thick ferns and hanging moss obscured the view beyond, but he could hear life outside—buzzing insects, distant calls, the faint rustle of movement.
Weak monsters, maybe.
Manageable.
Ren nodded to himself.
This place filters out strong predators…
That realization brought a flicker of hope.
Then he noticed something wrong.
The insects were buzzing—but they weren't coming closer.
In fact, there was a clear empty radius around the shelter entrance. No webs. No burrows. No tracks leading in.
As if nothing wanted to approach.
Ren's fingers tightened around his sword hilt.
Slowly, he turned his gaze inward, scanning the interior of the shelter more carefully now—not as a survivor, but as a hunter.
That was when he saw it.
At first, he thought it was part of the roots.
A darker section of shadow where the light didn't reach.
Then it moved.
Just slightly.
Ren's breath caught.
Against the far wall of the shelter, partially embedded within the roots and stone, was something organic—but not natural. A massive, cocoon-like structure, its surface pulsing faintly, almost imperceptibly.
Veins ran across it.
Thick.
Alive.
The air around it felt heavy, oppressive, as though mana itself avoided the space. Ren's Appraisal refused to activate, his mind sliding away from the object as if repelled.
Ren took a step back without realizing it.
…What is that?
The cocoon pulsed again.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Something inside it shifted.
Ren's instincts screamed.
Whatever the river had carried him to—it wasn't safety.
It was a nest.
And he had just woken up inside it.
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