Learning from Death

The Sorcerer stood before the Corrupted Wolf. The beast, now a shadow of its former self, was nothing more than a mass of twisted flesh and bone, endlessly devouring itself. Its limbs were gone, torn away by its own insatiable fury. Yet it continued, jaws clamped down on its own tail, chewing in an eternal cycle of hunger and agony.

The Sorcerer's plan had worked. The alchemical extract had sown an unending craving, turning the beast into its own predator.

Time lost all meaning as the Sorcerer watched. Minutes, hours, or centuries could have passed in that frozen abyss, with only the grotesque sounds of self-cannibalization breaking the silence. Then, at last, the Wolf stopped. The final breath of life escaped it, a rough whisper fading into the void.

The Sorcerer walked forward, his steps echoing absurdly against the oppressive silence. He crouched beside the twisted corpse and murmured:

— "Looks like I prolonged your suffering. But really… that's on you."

His floating books, orbiting him like loyal satellites, slid toward the corpse, their pages rustling with a serpentine hiss. The pages whirled, forming razor-like edges that carved through the beast's hardened flesh, slicing into its entrails in search of anything of value.

It didn't take long for them to find it—the core, a pulsing sphere, black as the void, with golden cracks seeping an ominous light.

With a sneer, the Sorcerer plucked it out and tossed it into his floating cauldron.

— "That one's for you, grumpy." — he muttered, as the cauldron bubbled in a manner that felt suspiciously like grumbling back at him.

He turned to the ground, the thick ice reflecting his warped silhouette. Despite the carnage, the ice was pristine, untouched, and unyielding to chaos. The Sorcerer knelt and pressed a single finger against its surface.

The world shuddered.

The ice shattered into delicate shards, scattering outward before flowing back together, merging into a flawless, liquid mirror.

The Sorcerer stared into his reflection. And for a fleeting instant, it felt like he was looking directly at the reader.

— "Now… what was my goal in coming here?" — he whispered, his voice an echo in the void. — "Well, dear readers… there was none. I was just killing time. Since Ethan got that delightful little curse, this was merely a side errand. Now that it's done… I suppose I'll linger here in these frozen wastes until it's convenient to regroup. Unless they die first."

He shrugged, chuckling softly.

— "Surviving in a corrupted world isn't exactly easy, after all."

Ethan – Hunger and Instinct

Ethan trudged through the snow, his body protesting with every step as the wind stabbed at his face with invisible needles. The cold was a living thing, a parasite gnawing at his bones and sapping his strength with each breath. The thin air scorched his lungs, and hunger—a sharp, gnawing ache—reminded him of his human frailty.

He had left the place where the Sorcerer abandoned him, determined to find something—anything—to eat. Despite the desperation clawing at his stomach, he refused to consume the corrupted creatures that roamed this nightmarish world. Zombies, wraiths, or whatever the hell they were—no amount of hunger could make him cross that line.

— "God… I really hope I don't die from eating something cursed…" — he muttered, his breath curling into the frigid air.

The trees around him were monstrous and skeletal, their limbs reaching upward like claws scraping the sky's gray belly. The snow blanketing the earth was tainted with streaks of gray and black, like the land itself was rotting from within.

Then he saw it.

A squirrel.b

Or… something that once resembled a squirrel. It was the size of a bear, with hooked, curving fangs and feverish, crimson eyes that blazed like dying stars. Its fur, bristling and needle-like, crackled with frost, and its claws carved deep trenches into the frozen earth as it sniffed the air.

Ethan froze, his heart thundering in his chest.

— "Yeah… this is gonna suck." — he whispered, pulling out his slingshot.

He slid a jagged stone into the elastic band, drew it back, and inhaled deeply, steadying his aim.

But before he released it…

The world stopped.

A ripple, a shift—

And he was plunged into a sea of futures.

He saw it unfold:

The stone hurtled through the air, a crackling whip of sound trailing behind it. It struck the beast's skull with brutal force, sending it sprawling into the snow.

Ethan smirked—easy win.

He stepped forward.

The squirrel's body twitched. It sprang up, eyes blazing with primal wrath.

In a blink, it was behind him—

Its fangs pierced his neck—

Tearing—

Darkness.

Pain.

Silence.

Nothing.

Then—

A gasp.

Ethan snapped back to the present, his body drenched in cold sweat despite the freezing air. The monster hadn't moved.

His fingers trembled, the slingshot still taut. His pulse was deafening, roaring in his ears.

— "Damn it…" — he breathed, wiping his brow.

He had seen his death.

Another breath. He drew the band tighter.

But then—another future bloomed:

The stone became a comet—a fiery missile that struck the beast's flank, exploding into a searing blaze. The creature howled, writhing in pain.

Ethan grinned.

But the fire made it angrier, not weaker.

The burning monster charged—too fast—

Claws pierced his chest—

Ripped through ribs—

The world spun—

Darkness.

Another death.

Ethan's eyes flew open, his lungs heaving.

The beast… was still there. Untouched.

The future had not happened.

Slowly…

He lowered the slingshot.

— "Alright… you win." — he murmured, backing away, keeping his eyes on the creature. — "Good luck with your monster… psycho… squirrel… life."

The beast's breath puffed in the cold, but it made no move to pursue him.

Ethan turned and began walking again, his stomach still gnawing at him, a cruel, persistent reminder of his vulnerability.

The snow crunched beneath his boots. His body screamed for rest, his heart still pounding from the specters of death he'd witnessed. He mumbled to himself:

— "Right now… yeah… I think I can only handle level 1 monsters. Maybe level 2… if the universe decides to be nice. Which it won't. Pretty sure it hates me."

The cold grew sharper.

The hunger deeper.

But he was still alive.

For now.