The forest was unnaturally silent.
Zuke ran like the wind, his breath sharp, eyes locked on the deer darting ahead. His fingers moved swiftly—arrow drawn, bow bent, release.
Whoosh.
Missed.
Another arrow.
Missed again.
The deer vanished into the shadows, as if the forest itself swallowed it.
Zuke stopped, chest heaving. Sweat dripped down his face. His throat burned with thirst.
"Damn it…" he muttered.
He wandered deeper into the forest, searching—anything for water.
Then he saw it.
A small pond beneath a massive ancient tree, its roots twisted like claws gripping the earth.
Zuke rushed forward… but froze.
The water—it was red.
Not muddy. Not dark.
Blood red.
A strange metallic smell filled the air.
"This… isn't right," he whispered.
But his throat screamed louder than his fear.
Slowly… hesitantly… he knelt.
One sip.
Then another.
Then he drank like a man possessed.
Behind the tree—
An old man stood watching.
His hollow eyes glowed faintly in the dark.
And he smiled.
Not loudly.
Not madly.
Just a slow… silent… terrifying laugh.
Two days passed.
The night of the full moon arrived.
Zuke stood outside his wooden house, chopping logs. Each strike of the axe echoed through the night.
His wife's father sat nearby, speaking warmly.
"You were always strong, Zuke… even as a child," he said. "But you were never this… restless."
Zuke didn't reply.
His body felt… strange.
Then—
He saw him.
The old man.
Standing at the edge of the forest near his house.
Watching.
Waiting.
The old man stepped forward… then stopped.
And began chanting.
A strange, broken melody… like a song from the grave.
Zuke dropped his axe.
Pain exploded through his body.
His bones cracked.
His skin burned.
He screamed.
His fingers twisted into claws.
His teeth sharpened.
His body grew… larger… monstrous.
And under the full moon—
Zuke became a beast.