They did not stop moving.
That was the only reason they were still alive.
Ren kept the pace steady but irregular, constantly shifting direction—north for a few minutes, then cutting east, then suddenly veering west. It wasn't random. It was survival. Weak monsters still lurked in clusters, and Ren hunted them efficiently, striking fast, conserving mana, never lingering long enough to draw attention.
Kian watched their surroundings like a hunted animal, blade always half-raised, senses stretched thin. Lira moved ahead and behind in turns, her vines barely disturbing the ground, her eyes sharp for anything that didn't belong.
They avoided strong presences.
At least, they thought they did.
The air changed first.
It wasn't pressure. It wasn't killing intent. It was absence—a sudden, unnatural silence that swallowed the forest whole. Birds stopped mid-call. Insects vanished. Even the wind seemed to recoil.
Ren slowed.
The forest had grown unnaturally quiet.
Not the peaceful kind of silence that followed a cleared battlefield—but the suffocating kind that pressed against the ears and made even breathing feel loud.
Ren slowed his steps.
"something is unto us," he said softly.
Kian immediately shifted his grip on his sword, posture lowering. Lira stopped beside Ren, vines subtly tightening around her wrist, ready to fire at a moment's notice.
They had been moving carefully for hours.
Hunting only weak monsters.
Changing direction constantly.
Avoiding areas with dense mana fluctuations.
And yet—
Something had followed them anyway.
Ren felt it then.
A pressure, subtle but invasive, like cold fingers brushing the back of his neck.
"Don't look back," Ren whispered.
Too late.
A figure stepped out from between two shattered trees.
It wasn't massive.
It wasn't towering.
In fact, it was only a little taller than an eighteen-year-old boy—perhaps half a head taller than Ren himself.
And yet, the moment it appeared, the world seemed to tilt.
Its upper body was that of an ox, compact and densely muscled, skin dark and coarse, veins pulsing beneath it like living ropes. Two short, forward-curving horns protruded from its skull—not decorative, but shaped for killing.
Its lower body was human.
Lean legs. Bare feet pressed into the soil. Perfect balance.
A creature that didn't rely on size.
It relied on certainty.
Lira sucked in a sharp breath.
"K-kind of monster is that…?"
Ren didn't answer.
Because the monster wasn't looking at them.
It was looking at him.
Its gaze locked onto Ren with unsettling calm.
Not rage.
Not hunger.
Recognition.
"…It's targeting you," Kian said slowly.
The monster tilted its head.
And then it moved.
No roar.
No warning.
It vanished.
Ren's instincts screamed.
He twisted sideways just as a fist brushed past his face.
The impact behind him was catastrophic.
Thirty meters of forest vanished in an instant.
Trees—living and dead—were pulverized into blue-tinged fragments, the ground split open, air detonating outward like a shockwave.
Ren was thrown forward, rolling hard, ribs screaming in protest.
"What the—!" Lira shouted.
The monster reappeared, standing where the forest used to be.
The path behind Ren was gone.
Cleanly erased.
"That punch…" Kian muttered. "It wasn't wild."
No.
It was precise.
Ren pushed himself up, blood dripping from his nose.
This thing wasn't strong in the way beasts were strong.
It was refined.
The monster stepped forward again, eyes never leaving Ren.
Lira fired first.
Vine bullets shot forward, sharp and compressed—but the creature shifted its torso just enough for them to miss, one hand snapping out and tearing a vine cleanly from the air.
It didn't counterattack.
Didn't even glance at her.
It walked.
Straight toward Ren.
"Why is it ignoring us?" Lira yelled.
Ren felt it then.
The reason.
His chest tightened.
"…Because I don't belong here."
The monster suddenly accelerated.
Ren barely raised his staff before the blow landed.
The impact shattered the ground beneath his feet, his body folding as he was launched backward, smashing through dirt and roots before skidding to a halt.
Pain exploded through his torso.
He coughed blood.
Couldn't breathe.
Couldn't stand.
The monster was already there.
Kian intercepted.
Steel rang against horn as Kian's sword slashed upward, sparks flying. The blade cut—barely—leaving a thin line across the ox-skinned chest.
Kian was sent flying in the next instant, slamming into a tree hard enough to crack it.
"KIAN!" Lira screamed.
She unleashed everything.
Vines wrapped, pierced, detonated—aiming joints, eyes, throat.
The monster stepped through them.
One backhand.
Lira was flung aside, crashing into the ground, breath knocked from her lungs.
Still—
The monster didn't finish them.
It turned.
Back to Ren.
Ren tried to stand.
His legs buckled.
Mana—empty.
Body—breaking.
The monster stopped an arm's length away.
It looked down at him.
Ren saw it clearly now.
No hatred.
No cruelty.
Just purpose.
Its hand closed around his throat.
The grip wasn't crushing.
Not yet.
Ren's vision darkened.
"This thing…" Lira rasped, trying to rise. "It's not hunting us…"
Kian forced himself upright, blood running from his mouth.
"It's judging him."
The monster raised its other fist.
Ren couldn't move.
Couldn't think.
He was weak.
Just like before.
Just like Tokyo.
Just like every life where he arrived too late and left too little behind.
The fist descended.
And—
The world shattered.
Ren hit stone.
Hard.
Cold.
Sound crashed into him all at once.
The stadium.
Cheers, gasps, shouting voices flooding his ears as pain caught up to him all at once. His body lay twisted, blood pooling beneath his shoulder, chest barely rising.
A calm voice echoed.
"Participant Ren."
Silence fell.
"If you are alive," the referee said, "raise your hand within ten seconds."
Ren heard it.
Barely.
His fingers wouldn't respond.
His arm felt detached from his body.
"Ten."
Darkness crept in.
"Nine."
Blood dripped onto the stone.
"Eight."
His vision swam.
"Seven."
Lira's voice echoed in his head.
"Six."
Kian standing in front of him.
"Five."
His arm twitched.
"Four."
Pain burned white.
"Three."
Ren clenched his teeth.
"Two."
With everything left inside him—
Ren raised his bleeding hand.
Just barely.
The stadium erupted.
"Confirmed," the referee announced. "Participant Ren is alive."
A glowing card floated down.
Second Trial Invitation.
Commencing in one week.
"All participants with points exceeding 5000 will enter the later brackets, allowing recovery and preparation."
Ren stared at the card through blurred vision.
Weak.
Still weak.
But alive.
As medics rushed forward and darkness claimed him again, one thought burned into his mind:
That thing wasn't the strongest here.
It was just the first that noticed me.