The ground beneath Dave began to shake. Then a creature emerged from the undergrowth with a silence that felt impossible for its size. Its body—long and sinewy like a giant lizard—moved with the eerie precision of a spider. Eight massive legs, each joint bending at unnatural angles, carried it effortlessly over roots and boulders. The claws at the end of each limb were curved and jagged, capable of carving through bark and bone alike.
Its tail dragged behind it, thick and segmented, armored in overlapping scales that shimmered with the muted greens and browns of the forest. When it stilled, it vanished into the landscape—a hulking mirage of moss and shadow, as if the forest itself were alive and watching.
Eight glistening eyes stared from its head, arranged in a grotesque cluster that reflected even the faintest light. Beneath them, two spider-like mandibles twitched and clicked, strands of venom drooling between their serrated edges. When a drop fell to the forest floor, it hissed and smoked, the soil blackening instantly. A low, resonant hiss rolled from its throat, vibrating through the air like distant thunder.
Dave came to a sudden halt, and the monster looked at Dave with all its eight eyes. Then it opened its grotesque mouth and spat at Dave. He quickly jumped away, and it barely missed him. When he looked at it, he noticed that it was a white sticky substance. He initially thought that it was venom, but that was not the case; it was a web meant to capture its prey, which was Dave.
His heart pounded as he turned and sprinted back the way he had come. The monster followed, its huge body crashing through the undergrowth. It wasn't fast, but its size made up for it, closing the distance bit by bit. It spat web after web, but Dave managed to dodge each one. The main reason he dodged them every time is that whenever the monster began to spit the web, it made a hissing sound, so when Dave heard it, he ran behind a tree.
Desperation set in. He had no plan, no weapon. Then he remembered the two strangers who had been chasing him earlier. It wasn't much of a choice, but it was better than becoming monster food. He veered sharply and ran toward where he had last seen them.
Soon, he spotted the pair. Their expressions shifted from shock to rage, and then to confusion. Why was he coming back to them?
"We finally found you, bastard—what the hell are you—"
Before the white-haired man could finish, Dave sprinted past them.
The two men froze, puzzled—until a deep rumble echoed behind them. When they turned, a massive creature loomed from the shadows. "Shit", one of them cursed and started shooting at the monster. Most of the bullets ricocheted off the monster's hide, but one of them hit, piercing one of its eight eyes. The beast let out a deafening roar as green blood oozed from the wound.
Enraged, it swung its massive tail like a hammer, striking the man with the cotton-candy head. He flew through the air and slammed into a tree. The trunk shuddered, splinters scattering everywhere, but miraculously, the tree stood still. The injured man wheezed in pain, struggling to breathe. The monster loomed over him, its grotesque face, with its green oozing blood, will give anyone nightmares.
It opened its terrible maw, rows of teeth glistening in the dim light. The cotton-candy-haired man saw this and begged his partner, "Please help-." Before he could finish the sentence, the monster bit his head clean off, blood sprouted from his neck like a geyser, and his body went limp and fell with a thud.
The white-haired man stood frozen, horror etched into his face. Then the creature turned its many eyes on him. A chill ran down his spine. He bolted, but a web shot out, wrapping around his legs and yanking him to the ground. His sword clattered from his grasp.
He struggled, thrashing helplessly, but the sticky threads held firm. The monster advanced, its shadow engulfing him. It spat again and again until he was completely cocooned—only his terrified face left exposed.
"Please stop! Let me go! Stop—STOP!" he screamed, his voice echoing through the forest. Blood, sweat, and tears mixed with mud on his face as he begged for his life. The monster seized the cocoon and dragged it into the darkness, leaving the headless corpse behind.
Meanwhile, Dave was still running when he heard the distant screams. He stopped, breath ragged, and glanced back toward the sound. His stomach twisted—he didn't need to see to know what had happened. If luck hadn't favored him, that voice could have been his.
Exhausted, he stumbled to a nearby tree and collapsed against it. His legs trembled from exertion, every muscle burning. 'What is going on? Who were those people? What was that monster? Is this not a dream but a different reality?' Dave had so many questions but no answers. He was too tired even to think straight.. The adrenaline that had kept him alive now drained away, and he closed his eyes soon after everything faded to black.
Dave was suddenly in a world of pain. It felt like someone was trying to rip apart his finger. He opened his eyes and found a weird creature crushing one of his fingers. He quickly punched it with his other arm, and the creature flew from the impact and landed nearby.
The creature soon got up and skittered across the ground with a series of sharp, clicking sounds, the rhythm both alien and unsettling. From the waist down, it was all crustacean—six jagged crab legs that glistened under the light, each ending in serrated tips that dug easily into the earth. Two massive pincers jutted from its sides, their edges gleaming like wet blades, flexing restlessly as if eager to snap something in half. The lower half of its body was armored in a deep, glossy red shell, mottled with faint streaks of black that shimmered like oil when it moved.
Above that monstrous frame rose the unsettlingly familiar form of a rabbit. Its fur was pure white, almost luminous against the darker shell below, the softness of its coat a grotesque contrast to the hardened carapace. Yet there was nothing innocent about its face—its eyes burned bright crimson, unblinking and feral. When it opened its mouth, rows of crimson-stained teeth flashed, sharp and uneven, matching the hue of the crab's shell as though dipped in blood. It twitched its long ears at the slightest sound, alert, tense, ready to strike.
"What the hell is this thing?" Dave was puzzled and a little unsettled by this strange creature. Before he could think anymore, the weird creature jumped at him. He panicked and kicked it with all his might. Once again, it was sent flying, but the impact was a lot stronger than before. It hit a boulder nearby, and with a crunching sound, it fell to the ground. It twitched a few times and stopped moving.
Dave was not planning to go anywhere near that weird creature, and he suddenly remembered the monster from before, looking around in panic. Thankfully, there was nothing near Dave, but what caught his eye was the sky.
The sun hung low in the sky, its light mellowing from gold to amber as evening crept in. The world was still bright, but softer now—the harsh glare of day giving way to a gentle warmth that bathed everything in a honeyed glow. Long shadows stretched lazily across the ground, and the air carried that quiet stillness that comes just before dusk, when the day begins to exhale.
It was already evening, and Dave was puzzled 'Did I fall asleep?' He thought about what could have happened if that monster had found him when he was asleep; it sent a shiver down his spine. Dave remembers the village he saw before meeting the strangers and decided to go there.
'But before that, what happened to those two?' Dave was curious about the fate of the two strangers, but he was also afraid of that monster.'I'll go and check the place where I left them. If the monster is still there, I'll leave quietly, he resolved. Dave began moving toward the place where he had last encountered the two strangers. He moved as quietly as possible so as not to alert anyone or anything.
Soon he reached the place, and what he saw made him shudder. There was a headless corpse of the cotton-candy-haired man with blood pooling under it, and the white hair was nowhere to be seen. He slowly approached the corpse while keeping an eye on his surroundings. He didn't want to be ambushed.
He stumbled upon something, and when he looked down to see what it was, he found out that it was the sword that the white haired man was carrying. The scabbard was missing, but the sword remained relatively intact. Picking it up gave him a small measure of confidence—having a sword was better than being unarmed. Now that his wound had stopped bleeding, he tore his bloody sleeve and used it to wrap the blade; he didn't want to cut himself accidentally.
After wrapping up his sword, he went to the headless corpse. He looked at it with a solemn expression for some time and decided to loot it. Sure, it was immoral and disrespectful to the dead, but he didn't care. Cotton-candy-haired man was already dead, but he was alive. He would do whatever it took to stay that way.