The jungle felt me the instant I crossed back in.
Not as pressure.
As awareness.
The air shifted, slight but discernible, not unlike the room quieting down in the presence of a cold-blooded killer. Leaves shivered, windless. The hum beneath the soil came back, but it flowed around me now, not through me.
I inhaled.
My wound still burned, still seeped gently; now, the pain clawed at my thoughts no more. It existed. That was it. A manageable problem, not a scream for attention.
Steady.
That was how the observer had put it.
I rolled my shoulder, testing my balance. My altered arm moved smoothly, heavy but precise. The hunger inside my chest lay quiet, coiled, and patient.
The jungle never forced me.
It adjusted.
Ripples strode through the trees ahead. Branches bent back, opening a narrow corridor. Not a path of mercy—an assessment corridor.
I stepped forward.
I noticed the sound at once.
Footfalls.
Not of beasts. Not of constructs.
Human.
I stopped, body dropping low, senses honing razor-keen. My vision unnaturally tracked movement through the underbrush—three figures, spaced apart, flanking positions without a word.
Hunters.
By now, they would think me still unstable.
They were wrong.
Left I glided, silently, footfalls on even ground in my mind. Not the jungle resisting me. No roots were tripping me. No thorns were shredding my skin.
Not helping.
Permitting.
A blade sizzled through the air where my head would have been.
I ducked, rolled, and sprang up just before the first hunter could recover. His eyes bulged as the weight of my transformed arm collapsed with a vengeance into his ribs.
It sounded like breaking stone.
He hurtled backward into a tree unwillingly and did not get up.
No hesitation.
No hurry.
Just efficiency.
The second hunter felt it right quick, red runes flaring up the length of his weapon. He charged, blade incandescent, aimed for my chest.
I stepped forward inside his swing.
The blade grazed my flank, tearing fabric, nicking flesh—but it hardly made me flinch. I seized his wrist, felt bone grit under my grip, and twisted.
He screamed.
My knee sank into his stomach, followed by the crashing of my forehead into his face. He gasped and crumpled, the weapon falling uselessly from his grip.
The third hunter froze.
That hesitation cost him everything.
Two steps across the gap, I had him by the throat and lifted him off the ground. His eyes bulged, and his hands clawed at my arm.
"You misjudged me," I said, keeping my voice calm.
And then I slammed him to the ground.
Once.
Twice.
He went still.
Then silence.
I stood there, with my chest swelling, blood trickling down my side. The jungle observed. I felt it—not with hostility, nor with approval.
With recalibration.
The observer stepped delicately out from behind a tree, eyeing the slain hunters. "That was... faster," he said.
"They came expecting weakness," I answered. "I have none to waste."
He studied me again. "Your movements are more refined. You're not burning willpower with every action."
"Far away," I said. "I can feel it. The cost is..."
Then the jungle answered.
Not with beasts.
With silence.
The corridor widened ahead, revealing an unfamiliar clearing. Stone markers lined its perimeter, covered in shapes that I now recognized—not warnings, but histories.
Anomaly markers.
"This area wasn't here before," the observer said quietly.
"It was," I answered. "Just not for me."
We stepped into the clearing together.
From the moment my foot passed the boundary, the earth pulsed once. A deep resonance rumbled through my bones—not painful, not violent.
Most importantly, the jungle had changed its interaction with me.
No longer as prey.
No longer too much of a problem.
As a variable.
A presence stirred at the far end of the glade. Something huge stirred, scales grinding like stone. The tiniest hint of hunger flared, not a scream but attentive.
A beast emerged.
Not a guardian.
Not a tool in the hands of the hunter.
A true jungle predator.
It stood taller than the armored panther from before, lean and corded with muscle, skin patterned like living bark. It had amber eyes, sharp and intelligent.
It didn't roar.
It studied me.
I stepped forward.
The beast mirrored my gesture.
We circled slowly, predator against predator. The jungle would not intervene. No pressure. No tricks. No tests.
A clean confrontation.
"First battle after stabilization," the observer murmured. "This will decide how it categorizes you."
I didn't answer.
The beast lunged.
I met it head-on.
Claws were slashing toward my throat; I caught its forearm with my altered arm, and the impact sent shockwaves through both of us. I twisted, exploiting its momentum, and slammed my shoulder into its chest.
It snarled back in a skid.
Pain flared in my side, tearing the wound further. Blood ran freely now. I took note, adjusted my stance, and stiffened my breathing.
No panic.
The beast attacked again, and this time even faster. I ducked under its snapping jaws, drove my elbow into its ribs, then rolled through as its tail whipped low in the space I'd just vacated.
The ground cracked.
We exchanged blows—proper wise with each renown, impact measured, cruel, exacting. I felt bones strain, muscles tear—but I controlled it. The hunger whispered suggestions, not commands.
Kill it, and do so efficiently.
Finish it.
I bided my time.
The beast made its move in the moment I waited for, overcommitting with its full weight. I sidestepped, throwing a clinch-fist to the base of its skull.
The roar of death resonated like that of hammer on stone.
The beast fell.
Above it, I stood, chest heaving slowly.
It didn't rise.
The jungle responded.
Deep vibrations rolled through the clearing. The stone markers flared briefly before settling. The hum beneath the ground now shifted to align around me, instead of pushing against me.
The observer inhaled sharply. "It accepted the outcome."
I looked down upon the beast.
Its body began to dissolve slowly, not into ash, but energy flowing down into the earth: into the jungle, not into me.
Absorption?
Growth at will?
Nowhere near.
Only acceptance.
"That's new," I said.
The observer agreed with a nod. "It's no longer feeding you power directly. It's testing how you use what you already have."
A sharp pain tore through my side.
I staggered, catching myself against one of the stone markers. The blood loss finally caught up to me now, dizziness closing in.
The observer was at me in an instant to support me. "You're still bleeding. Stabilization doesn't mean invincibility."
"I know," I muttered. "Just give me a moment. I'll come around."
He turned to look at the fallen hunters, then back to the clearing. "They will feel this. The hunters. This kind of engagement leaves a trace."
"Good," I said.
He frowned. "So you want them to come?"
"I want them to understand," I replied. "They can't cripple me anymore."
The jungle began stirring at the edge of my awareness. Something moving far away. In organized motion. Purposeful.
Multiple signatures.
Hunters.
Not three this time.
More.
The observer tensed. "They're regrouping already."
Slowly, I stood upright, ignoring the pain, gazing at the darkening pathways leading into the clearing.
"Let them," I said calmly. "They came to correct an anomaly."
The jungle pulsed once, low and deep.
Agreement—or warning.
I flexed my altered arm, letting myself feel the controlled power humming beneath the surface.
"This time," I continued, "they'll realize what they actually created."
Shadows moved at the treeline.
Weapons glinted.
And for the first time since entering the Death Jungle, I felt something close to the anticipation.