Dominic Ashborne woke up to pain before he woke up to light.
It crawled through his body in slow, deliberate waves, like something alive had wrapped itself around his organs and was squeezing just enough to remind him it could finish the job whenever it wanted. His throat burned. His chest felt tight, brittle, as if one wrong breath would crack something important.
He didn't move.
That decision alone probably saved his life.
The world returned in fragments the smell first. Damp earth. Ash. Old blood, faint but unmistakable. His eyes opened to a narrow slit, just enough to see without being seen.
The fallen tree still loomed over him, its underside dark and uneven. No movement. No shadows shifting nearby.
Good.
Dominic focused inward, cataloging damage the way he used to catalog problems in his old life calmly, methodically, without panic.
Breathing hurt. That meant ribs or lungs. Possibly both.
Heartbeat was weak but steady no immediate internal bleeding.
Limbs responded sluggishly, but they responded.
Starving. Dehydrated. Feverish.
Bad, but not instant death.
He swallowed slowly. Even that sent a sharp twinge through his chest.
So I didn't die in my sleep, he thought. That's progress.
The thought was dry, humorless. He didn't feel relief only acknowledgment. Survival was a state, not a victory.
The sense of being watched returned as his thoughts settled.
Not pressure this time. Not intrusion.
Awareness.
Like standing beneath a security camera you couldn't see.
[Continuum Evaluation System]
Survival Probability: 12.6%
Status: Ongoing Observation
Dominic didn't react outwardly. He'd already learned that the system didn't respond to emotion or complaint. It wasn't listening in the way people listened.
It was measuring.
"Does that number go down if I move," he whispered, voice barely more than breath.
No answer.
He waited a few seconds anyway, just in case.
Nothing changed.
Dominic exhaled through his nose and shifted his focus back to the world. Sunlight weak, filtered through ash clouds had crept higher. It was still early. Morning, if this world even followed the same rules.
That meant something else was waking up too.
The howl he'd heard before echoed again, closer now. This one wasn't lonely. It was answered by another, then another, forming a low chorus that vibrated through the dead forest.
Dominic's jaw tightened.
Pack hunters.
Staying here meant being found. Moving meant pain and possibly death anyway.
He chose to move.
Very slowly, he dragged his body deeper beneath the fallen tree, wedging himself into a shallow hollow where roots met earth. Splinters bit into his skin. He welcomed the sharper pain it drowned out the dull, internal kind.
Once positioned, he froze again.
Minutes passed. Each breath felt louder than it should have. He imagined the sound carrying, betraying him.
Then he saw them.
Shapes moved between the trees low to the ground, gray-black forms slipping through ash and shadow with practiced ease. They weren't wolves, not exactly. Too lean. Too coordinated. Their eyes caught the light when they turned, reflecting a dull, unhealthy yellow.
Gravewolves.
The name surfaced unbidden in his mind.
Not a memory an instinct.
One of them stopped, head lifting, nostrils flaring. It sniffed the air.
Dominic held his breath.
The creature's gaze swept the clearing, lingering near the fallen tree. Its lips peeled back, exposing teeth that were too flat in some places, too sharp in others, like something halfway between predator and scavenger.
A corpse lay farther out in the open someone Dominic hadn't noticed before. Torn open. Fresh.
The wolves converged on it, snarling softly as they fed.
Dominic didn't look away.
He forced himself to watch.
Blood soaked into the ash. Bone cracked. One wolf dragged a limb away, only to be challenged by another. The fight was brief and brutal no wasted movement, no hesitation.
That's how you survive here, he thought. No mercy. No pause.
His stomach twisted not from disgust, but from hunger.
That scared him more than the wolves.
Eventually, they left, bellies distended, slipping back into the trees as silently as they'd come. The clearing fell quiet again.
Dominic waited long after they were gone.
Only when his vision began to blur from lack of oxygen did he breathe again.
[Evaluation Updated]
Threat response: Concealment
Outcome: Survival maintained
Survival Probability: 12.9%
A marginal increase.
Dominic almost smiled.
Almost.
Once the danger passed, the cold crept back in. Without adrenaline, the pain sharpened, and exhaustion dragged at him like a weight tied to his spine.
He needed water. Food. Shelter that wasn't a temporary hiding spot.
He needed all of it fast.
Dominic scanned the ground near him, eyes settling on a shallow depression where moisture had collected overnight. Muddy, gray water glistened faintly.
Poisoned, probably. Or worse.
He stared at it anyway.
Twelve percent, he reminded himself. Those odds assume I don't drink.
He scooped a handful with shaking fingers and sniffed it. It smelled like rot and minerals nothing immediately lethal, at least not by scent.
Dominic hesitated only a second before bringing it to his lips.
The taste was foul. Bitter, metallic. He gagged, but forced it down, then another mouthful after that. His stomach cramped in protest.
He welcomed that too.
Something inside him warmed slightly, like an engine coughing to life.
Minutes passed. No immediate death.
Good enough.
He leaned back against the roots and closed his eyes briefly, letting the dizziness settle. Thoughts drifted not to despair, but to calculation.
This body is damaged, he thought. Not just injured. Broken.
Which meant it hadn't always been this way.
Whoever he had replaced if that was what had happened had likely been worked, beaten, starved. Pushed until something inside snapped.
Discarded.
Dominic opened his eyes, gaze hardening.
That won't happen again.
A sound cut through his thoughts a soft whimper.
Human.
He stiffened, every sense sharpening.
The sound came from beyond the tree line, faint and uneven. Someone hurt. Someone trying not to be heard.
A trap, his instincts warned. Or bait.
He stayed still, listening.
The whimper turned into a cough wet, painful. Too real. Too uncontrolled.
Dominic weighed his options.
Going toward it meant exposure. Risk. Pain. Possibly death.
Ignoring it meant safety for now.
The system did not intervene. Did not advise.
It watched.
Dominic's fingers curled into the dirt.
What choice increases my odds long-term? he asked himself, not the system.
Alone, injured, with no knowledge of the land, he would die slowly even if he avoided danger today.
Information mattered. Allies mattered even temporary ones.
He began to crawl.
Every movement was agony, but he moved anyway, keeping low, using trees and shadows for cover. The sound grew clearer as he approached a young woman, maybe. Older than him. Breathing ragged.
He found her slumped against a rock, leg twisted at an unnatural angle. Blood soaked her pants, dark and drying.
Her eyes snapped open when she saw him. Fear flared, sharp and immediate.
"Don't," she rasped, reaching weakly for a knife that wasn't there. "Please."
Dominic raised his hands slowly, showing they were empty.
"I'm not here to hurt you," he said.
The words felt strange. Not false but untested.
She laughed weakly. "Everyone says that."
Dominic didn't argue.
He knelt beside her, ignoring the way his vision swam, and examined the injury. Broken leg. Badly. No immediate infection, but it would come.
Left untreated, she'd die here.
So might he.
He met her gaze. "If I help you," he said carefully, "can you walk later?"
She shook her head. "Not today. Maybe not ever."
Dominic nodded once.
Information gained.
He looked around, then back at her. "What's hunting out here?"
"Gravewolves," she whispered. "And worse."
That matched his observations.
He shifted his weight, pain flaring again, and made his decision.
"I won't carry you," he said. "But I won't leave you either. If you scream, we both die."
She studied his face really looked at him and something in her expression changed. Not trust. Recognition.
"Fine," she said. "I won't scream."
Dominic exhaled slowly.
Behind his eyes, something shifted.
[Continuum Evaluation System]
Behavioral deviation detected
Risk profile: Increased
Observation priority: Elevated
No reward.
No approval.
Just a note.
Dominic reached for a branch to use as a splint, hands steady despite the pain.
Twelve percent, he thought.
Let's see how wrong that number can be.