Samuel landed hard on his butt.
The ground was cold and rough under him, but he barely noticed.
He sat there for a moment, breathing in the heavy air, feeling the strange silence all around him. Then he slowly stood up, brushing off his robe. His eyes darted left and right, scanning the place he had fallen into.
The trees around him were huge— thick, tall, and twisted. Their dark branches clawed at the sky, blocking out almost all the light. He could barely even see the sky at all. Only a few weak rays slipped through, making the place feel even more closed-in and heavy.
Samuel's mouth went dry.
It wasn't the darkness that scared him.
It was theblack stuffon the ground.
Here and there, patches of dark, slimy substance clung to the roots and rocks. It wasn't natural. It pulsed slightly, like it was breathing.
Like it was alive.
Samuel stared at it, feeling something deep in his gut twist. From the memories of the original Samuel, he knew exactly what it was:
Abyssal Corruption.
That black sludge was proof that the Abyss had touched this place. It meant that monsters could be anywhere. It meant that this whole part of the world was broken, sick, and wrong.
He took a deep breath. The air felt heavy, like it was full of ash and poison.
"So this is it..." Samuel thought, feeling a small, bitter smile pull at his lips.
"This is where the real game begins."
The place was silent, but it wasn't peaceful.
It was the kind of silence you only found in a graveyard.
The kind of silence right before something terrible happened.
He knew he couldn't stand still for long.
Anything could be hiding nearby. Anything could be watching him right now.
His hand brushed the dagger hidden under his robe, and for a second, it gave him a little comfort. Not much, but enough to start moving.
Samuel took his first step, cautious, his body low and tense.
The forest groaned softly around him — branches shifting, unseen things crawling beneath the brush.
Then, a sudden rustle.
He froze.
***
His hand instinctively gripped the dagger hidden beneath his robe, the leather wrapping warm against his palm.
From the shadows, a wolf-like creature emerged. Its body was gaunt, twisted, its fur matted with patches of that same black corruption Samuel had seen earlier. Faint tendrils of abyssal energy coiled off its body like steam from a dying fire.
Samuel narrowed his eyes.
He dug into the memories in the back of his mind — memories that weren't truly his but somehow felt real.
Rank 1, Low-Grade Beast.
Manageable.
Maybe even a good warm-up, he thought dryly, shifting his weight forward.
For once, his luck seemed... normal.
But the thought hadn't even fully formed when the bush to his left shuddered violently.
Both Samuel and the corrupted wolf snapped their heads toward the noise, instincts prickling. Even the beast lowered itself, a growl bubbling in its throat.
The next moment, something massive lumbered through the underbrush.
A bull — or something that might have once been a bull — emerged into the clearing. Its body was bloated and wrong, black as tar, its eyes burning a deep, hateful red. Each step it took made the ground tremble, and the air around it stank of decay and sulfur.
Samuel didn't need memories to tell him.
Rank 1, High-Grade Beast.
Shit.
The corrupted bull snorted once, a foul mist spraying from its nostrils — and then, without hesitation, it lunged at the wolf.
The smaller creature barely had time to whimper before it was caught between crushing jaws, devoured in one wet, snapping bite.
For a heartbeat, the clearing fell silent again.
Only the sound of the bull chewing, bones cracking like twigs.
After some time, the beast finally lifted its head, slow, deliberate.
Its burning red gaze swept the trees — and stopped, right where Samuel had been standing.
But there was no one there.
Samuel, in a rare flash of wisdom, had already turned on his heel the moment the bull appeared and bolted into the forest without even sparing a look back.
Branches whipped against his face as he sprinted, heart hammering, lungs burning.
Somewhere behind him, the bull let out a low, rumbling bellow — a sound that promised death.
Samuel didn't dare look back.
He just kept running, muttering under his breath between gasps of air:
"Yeah... luck's normal, alright. Normal for a fucking corpse."
Samuel was running like the hounds of hell were on his heels.
Because, well — something close enough was.
His heart slammed against his ribs. His breath tore from his throat in ragged gasps. Every muscle in his body screamed for him to stop.
But he didn't. He couldn't.
He zig-zagged through the trees, ducking into narrow gaps between twisted trunks and thorny bushes.
It wasn't skill — not really. It was pure desperation.
And somehow, by sheer madness or miracle, it bought him a little time.
Samuel knew it couldn't last.
He wasn't a bullfighter from the old arenas back on Earth. He was just a scared idiot in a cursed forest, running from something that could crush him like a bug.
In his mind, the curses flew faster than his feet.
"Fuck this forest. Fuck that bull. Fuck whoever thought this trial was a good idea."
The corrupted bull behind him wasn't losing ground either.
No — if anything, it sounded angrier, tearing through bushes and stomping small trees flat in its blind pursuit.
Samuel swung himself over a hanging vine, landing hard and stumbling before catching his balance again. A flash of black sludge splashed at his boots, the corruption almost seeming to reach up at him, hungering.
He gritted his teeth, shoving the terror down.
He had a plan.
A reckless, half-formed one — but a plan nonetheless.
He just needed a bait.
Preferably something bigger than him.
But for all his running, he hadn't seen another creature stupid enough to be stomping around here.
And that's when he heard it.
Voices.
Human voices.
Sharp and distant, rising in argument.
Samuel's blood froze — then surged.
His lips curled into a smile, a twisted, breathless thing that showed too many teeth.
Because who said bait had to be a beast?
He didn't waste time thinking it through. He didn't even slow down.
He veered hard, throwing himself toward the direction of the voices like a madman.
Branches slapped at his face. Thorned vines clawed at his robe.
He didn't care.
Hope, madness, and the pure, stubborn will to live pulled him forward.
Behind him, the bull roared — an earth-shaking bellow that split the cursed woods like a war drum.
Samuel didn't flinch. He just ran harder.
Because when death was already breathing down your neck, what was a little betrayal between strangers?
***
Samuel burst through a wall of thick bushes — and almost ran straight into two girls.
One of them was beautiful, almost unnaturally so. Pale skin, silver hair, golden eyes. The kind of face poets would write songs about.
The other... the other had half her face burned. Twisted and raw, like melted wax.
They were arguing. Loud, heated, not even noticing the forest trembling beneath their feet.
Samuel didn't have time to care.
He didn't slow down.
He didn't explain.
He just screamed, at the top of his lungs:
"RUN! RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!"
And then he blew past them, leaving nothing but flying dirt and confusion behind.
The beautiful girl froze, her mouth hanging open. Dumbfounded.
The burnt one, though... she was sharper.
She felt it — the ground shuddering. The trees swaying.
She turned and ran after Samuel without a second thought.
It took the beautiful one a few seconds more. Long enough to catch a glimpse of the nightmare coming for them.
A black-skinned bull, the size of a house, eyes burning red, crashing through the forest like a living storm.
She screamed — a high, piercing shriek — and sprinted after them, cursing every god she could think of.
Samuel was already ahead.
His eyes found salvation — a tree, low-branched and sturdy.
Without missing a beat, he lunged, swung himself up, boots scraping bark, muscles burning.
He scrambled up a few meters, then leaned down and roared:
"CLIMB! UP! MOVE!"
The burnt girl reached the base of the tree.
Paused.
Something was wrong.
But hesitation was a luxury she didn't have.
The beautiful girl crashed into the trunk beside her, grabbed a branch without thinking, and scrambled upward like a terrified cat.
Samuel cursed under his breath.
The burnt girl was still standing there, jaw clenched, fists tight.
The bull roared, deafening and close, a tidal wave of sound.
Samuel screamed again, voice cracking:
"CLIMB, DAMN IT! ARE YOU TRYING TO DIE?!"
At the last possible second, the burnt girl moved.
She jumped, gripped the lowest branch, and hauled herself up — just as the bull slammed into the trunk.
The whole tree shuddered. Leaves rained down like green snow.
Samuel barely held on, arms wrapped tight around the thick branch, every muscle screaming.
To his right, the beautiful girl was clinging for dear life — her fingers white on the bark, her body pressed so close to his he could feel her shaking through the robe.
To his left, the burnt-faced girl was crouched awkwardly, one arm wrapped around the branch, the other clutching her ribs like she expected them to crack at any second.
They were all packed together on the same miserable branch, like rats on a sinking ship.
Below them, the bull kept ramming the tree — again, and again.Every time the trunk shuddered, every time the branch groaned under their weight, Samuel felt another sliver of sanity slip away.
Leaves rained down around them.
The smell of broken bark and abyssal corruption stung his nose.
He squeezed his eyes shut, forehead pressing into the rough wood, and let out a shuddering breath.
For a long moment, they just hung there in silence — breathing hard, clinging tighter with every blow from the bull below.
The beautiful girl's, face twisted with anger, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.
"What the hell is wrong with you?! ", her face twisted with fury as she glared at Samuel.
"You—you're the reason we're in this mess! You brought that beast right to me, didn't you? How the hell did I get stuck with you two?!"
Turning to the burned girl, her eyes narrowed in accusation.
"And you! You cursed bitch, don't think I haven't noticed! You've got bad luck written all over you! The moment you showed up, it was like the whole fucking forest turned against me!"
She spat in frustration, her voice dripping with venom.
"You're a goddamn walking disaster, both of you."
Her words hit like a slap, but Samuel didn't flinch. He stared at the ground, his hand tightening on the branch beneath him. He didn't care for her venom.
The bull below them gave another low, guttural bellow, its massive form shaking the tree.
"Do you hear that? We're all gonna die! The fucking thing's gonna—"
Before she could finish her sentence, the burnt girl spoke up, her tone cold, calculated.
"This beast's name is Vorngath."
She glanced down, her eyes narrowing.
"A Rank 1 High-Grade Abyssal beast. It's a killing machine. But it has a weakness… After it devours its meal, it enters a hibernation phase for about two minutes. That's... our window."
There was a cold logic in her words, a moment of grim clarity.
The beautiful girl—her eyes wide with understanding—looked between Samuel and the burnt girl.
Her mind raced, calculating the grim choices. One of them would have to die for her to survive. She didn't like it, but she knew it was the only way out.
Her gaze lingered on Samuel for a moment, her lips curling into a subtle, wicked smile as a thought bloomed in her mind.
Yes, you're the one. You're the expendable one.
Her expression shifted smoothly, a seductive look that could melt the coldest hearts. She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a soft, honeyed tone.
"Junior brother... I—"
Before she could finish, a sharp, sudden pain struck her stomach. Her body lurched forward as she fell, her face twisting in shock and disbelief.
The burnt girl's eyes went wide, her mouth slightly agape as she watched Samuel.
Samuel, who had casually tossed aside his fellow survivor with the ease of someone discarding a broken tool, stared down at her as she crumpled to the ground.
His expression was indifferent, as though he were watching a trivial event unfold—nothing worth giving more than a passing glance.
The air around them was thick with the smell of blood, and the only sounds that filled the space were the beast's gnawing and the soft crackle of leaves. Samuel didn't move, didn't flinch. He just observed, detached, as if he were witnessing a particularly tragic play with a rather predictable plot.
"Senior sister, you're so kind… Sacrificing yourself for us," he murmured,
"You'll be remembered. In the legends. I'm sure there will be songs sung about you. Probably a ballad. Maybe a .....dance also."
***