The first thing Yuren felt was heat.
Not the dry, electric kind from city pavement — but heavy, choking warmth that clung to your lungs and left your clothes soaked within seconds. The second thing he felt was pain, radiating from somewhere in his back and shoulders like someone had hit him with a cricket bat.
He blinked through blinding sunlight and groaned. All around him, people were coughing, swearing, gasping for breath.
No buildings. No asphalt. No smog.
Just jungle.
But not any jungle Yuren had ever seen.
The trees stretched so high they blurred into the sky, covered in moss and vines thick enough to swing on. The leaves were wide enough to serve as dinner tables. The ground itself — moss, mud, thorns, and stone — seemed alive, crawling with beetles the size of fists and birds with eyes too human.
And the air… it stank of rot, sap, and wet stone.
He sat up slowly, biting back a groan.
Around him, bodies.
Maybe thirty people in the clearing, still coming to. Some were older. Some were just kids. A few were yelling in confusion, others just trying not to vomit.
Then the text appeared.
Right in front of his face, hanging midair like someone had written it on a window made of light.
[YOU HAVE BEEN SELECTED]
[TIER: EX]
[ABILITY: REPLICATION]
[You may copy the ability of a powered subject every 10 days.]
[Proximity required. No notification of success. Mastery must be earned.]
Yuren stared, jaw half-open.
EX.
That had to mean something. Something big.
He didn't know what "Replication" meant exactly — not yet — but it was clear enough: take powers. Keep them. One every ten days.
No tutorials. No ping when it worked. No backsies.
He waved the message away as others started groaning, standing, panicking.
"B-rank!" someone yelled. "Super speed! Look!"
A guy zipped two meters ahead, tripped, and faceplanted in a bush.
Another woman shot a bolt of fire into the air by accident, and half the group screamed.
Yuren exhaled slowly.
So everyone got a power. Some kind of lottery.
His was… different.
He looked down at his hands, still shaking slightly. He had no idea how to test what he could do. And if everyone else figured out what he could do?
He didn't want to think that far yet.
"Anyone hurt?" a voice called.
Yuren turned to see a man — late 40s maybe, lean build, bald, with sharp eyes and a military-straight spine — helping up a younger guy who had landed hard.
"Gerrard," the man said to someone offhandedly. "Yours?"
"…Yuren," he answered, hesitant.
They nodded at each other. No handshake. No introductions needed beyond that.
A second later, a new projection shimmered above each person's head.
Tiers.
Big block letters, glowing above them like nametags.
A. B. C. D. F.
Someone had an S. The girl with the fire.
Yuren had nothing.
No letter. No visible power. The EX was hidden. No one even glanced at him.
Gerrard looked at his own glowing D like someone had just handed him a participation trophy. Then he looked at Yuren's blank space and raised an eyebrow.
"Bugged?"
"Maybe," Yuren said quickly.
Gerrard shrugged. "You and me both. D-rank powers don't mean much if we're in dinosaur country."
He wasn't wrong.
The trees looked ancient. The air buzzed with something feral. And far off, past the tree line, something let out a deep, bone-shaking roar.
It sounded like a truck full of chainsaws howling underwater.
Everyone stopped.
Yuren's heart jumped. The hairs on his arms stood up.
Then the ground shook.
Leaves rustled. Birds launched into the air. People froze.
Another roar. Closer.
Then: trees snapped, violently, like someone was clearing them with a wrecking ball.
And from the foliage barreled something the size of a truck — a six-limbed beast with a plated skull, fangs like tusks, and a spined tail whipping behind it like a flail.
It didn't hesitate.
It lunged for the nearest person — a teenage boy — and swallowed him whole.
The scream was cut off mid-breath.
People ran. Some screamed. One girl fell and didn't get back up.
Yuren stood frozen, chest tight.
Then Gerrard grabbed his arm. "Move. Behind me."
Another shimmer passed across Gerrard's eyes.
"There's three more coming. One flanking left."
Yuren blinked. "What—how do you know—"
"Trace Sense. I can see their trail glow. GO!"
It clicked.
That was his power. Gerrard's. D-Rank.
A support skill. Tracking.
Useful. Not flashy. But useful.
Yuren followed him — close, tight, staying within arm's reach.
The ground cracked. The beast roared again, charging.
Then Gerrard shoved Yuren aside just as it slammed into them.
Yuren hit the ground hard.
Gerrard didn't get up.
Blood smeared the stone.
The beast screeched, its plated head whipping toward new targets — a woman who screamed and lit it on fire.
Yuren lay there, heart pounding, teeth clenched.
He opened his eyes.
And for a split second—
He saw them.
Glowing footprints. Residue trails.
Leading into the trees. Fading slowly.
He knew exactly where the beast had gone.
Trace Sense: acquired.
Gerrard's body wasn't whole.
Yuren stared, chest heaving, as the six-limbed thing vanished into the jungle—its tail dragging a streak of blood across the moss behind it. The screams had quieted. Half the group had scattered during the attack, and the rest were now gathering in clumps, some sobbing, some swearing, some too numb to speak.
Yuren knelt beside what was left of Gerrard.
He'd only known the man for a minute. Maybe two. But in that time, Gerrard had grabbed his arm. Pulled him aside. Shielded him.
He was the first person here who'd shown a hint of humanity.
Now he was dead.
And Yuren had his power.
He didn't feel proud. Or grateful. Or anything remotely clean.
Just cold.
He stood slowly, keeping his face blank.
Above him, a D glyph flickered into place — glowing faintly over his head like a low-grade neon sign.
Someone noticed.
"Hey, you got a power now?" a voice asked — a girl with short hair and a cracked lip. She pointed up. "Wasn't that blank a second ago?"
Yuren nodded slowly. "Guess it just took a minute."
"D-rank," someone muttered. "Not great."
"Better than nothing."
"He didn't do shit during the fight."
"None of us did, genius."
They were already slipping into blame mode.
Yuren turned away, his hands still trembling slightly. He flexed his fingers once. Twice.
Trace Sense.
He took a few steps toward the trees. Closed his eyes. Reached out.
The jungle wasn't silent. Not if you knew how to look.
Glowing footprints shimmered faintly in the moss — a mix of human and beast trails, overlapping like veins under skin. One trail glowed brighter than the rest: heavy claw-steps, evenly spaced, moving in a tight arc through the brush.
The raptor-like monster had circled before it charged.
Yuren opened his eyes.
"We're being hunted," he said aloud.
Chloe—the tall, toned girl with the S glyph above her head—turned. She had blood on her shirt but not a scratch on her skin.
"What did you say?"
He pointed at the tree line. "That wasn't random. It didn't stumble into us. It flanked. I can see its trail. There's more nearby."
She studied him. "Your power?"
He nodded. "D-rank. I can see where something just moved. Ten-meter range. Trails fade fast."
She didn't look impressed. But she didn't dismiss him either.
"Can you see how many?"
He concentrated.
"Three total. Two pulled back. One went south. Fast. Probably regrouping."
That got everyone's attention.
Denzel stepped forward — the guy with the B above his head and the attitude of a gorilla in gym shorts.
"So what, they're pack hunters now?" he scoffed. "Great. Just great. What else? Gonna tell us the ferns are alive too?"
"I'm telling you," Yuren said quietly, "they're not gone."
"Yeah?" Denzel stepped closer. "And what are you gonna do about it, D-boy? Track their footprints to death?"
Someone chuckled.
Yuren didn't flinch. He didn't look away.
He just stared at Denzel's glowing B, then at the way his arms bulged slightly, the way his hands looked like they could snap a man's neck without meaning to.
Super strength, Yuren thought. B-rank. Physical enhancement. Raw. Simple. Useful.
Not yet.
But soon.
"Back off," Chloe said suddenly.
Denzel turned to her, eyebrow raised. "Why?"
"Because we're wasting time. We just lost three people in ten minutes. We're not safe here. We either build a perimeter or move. Pick one."
Yuren stepped back, staying quiet. The tension shifted off him.
Chloe had presence. Authority. No shouting, no threats — just focus. The others began gathering around her like moths to a fire.
Yuren slipped behind them, pacing a slow circle around the clearing's edge.
Trace Sense pulsed faintly in his vision.
Movement trails criss-crossed underfoot — some human, some not. Faint claw marks in the mud, a snapped fern, pressure bends in the grass.
He was starting to understand it. It was like following heat in the dark.
It wouldn't keep him alive in a fight.
But it might help him avoid one.
He turned toward Gerrard's broken body.
"Thanks," he whispered.
Then he looked at Denzel.
Ten days.
That's all it would take.