Chapter 2. Pray

Reich staggered deeper into the Magic Forest—the place he'd imagined as a calm refuge.

It was no such thing.

The forest roared with silent fury, its anger woven into every rustle of silver leaves that shuddered in the cold wind. Each whisper felt like a warning:

You don't belong here.

Shadows stretched and twisted, shifting with sinister intent. Branches reached like skeletal fingers, eager to claw at his skin. The atmosphere grew heavy with the aroma of decay, the air tingling with the crackling remnants of ancient magic that clung to the surroundings, each breath scraping against the back of his throat.

Hunger gnawed at him, an old torment now fused with something new: fear. The beggar had survived on sheer luck, scraping by on fortune's whim. But here, in this place that seemed to despise his very existence, that luck was nowhere to be seen. The blessing that kept the other from death offered no shield against his pain—the burning sting of every impact, the raw bite of nature's defiance.

A jagged thorn slashed across his arm. He flinched. Blood welled up, dark and slick, only to vanish moments later as a golden haze sealed the wound shut. But the pain remained, even if just for one extra moment, sharp and real, its phantom echo refusing to fade.

He stared at the faint golden shimmer as it faded. No explanation. No reason. Just pain and the strange reality that his body could heal, but never forget.

The trees loomed like ancient sentinels, their gnarled trunks twisted into grotesque shapes, shadows clinging to their roots like old memories. Reich could feel their judgment, silent and unrelenting. A flicker of the beggar's memories surfaced: cold nights beneath stolen blankets, a future always just beyond reach. But that future was gone, shattered beneath the weight of a world that cared nothing for hope.

The forest was alive. Not just with plants and creatures, but with something older—something that felt aware. It wanted him gone. It fought back with lashing vines, thorns like blades, and the crushing weight of roots rising from the soil to trip and trap.

Reich gritted his teeth and pressed on. His muscles screamed, his body battered and bloodied—though the blood never stayed for long. Every wound healed, but the pain lingered, stacking with each new injury until it felt like his nerves were on fire.

His mind begged him to turn back. To flee to the ruins where at least the enemy was known. But Reich had learned something about himself in those ashes: he didn't quit.

Not because he couldn't die.

But because he refused to stop.

●○●

Reich's legs trembled as he pressed forward, each step feeling heavier than the last. It wasn't his body—his muscles were as strong as they'd ever be, restored with every breath, every flicker of that golden haze. But his mind…

His mind was unraveling.

The relentless pain, the hunger gnawing at the edges of his thoughts, the phantom echoes of wounds that no longer existed—it all stacked atop the exhaustion like invisible weights. Invulnerability kept his body whole, but it offered no mercy to the mind.

He needed sleep. Desperately.

But this was the Magic Forest. A place where things far older and hungrier than him lurked between twisted roots and shadowed canopies. Sleeping out in the open wasn't an option—not if he wanted to wake up at all.

His blurry gaze scanned the dense maze of silver-leafed trees until something caught his eye—a massive, ancient tree with a branch thick enough to support his weight. Near the base of the branch, nestled against the trunk, was a hollow, dark and deep.

It wasn't perfect, but his mind was too tired to argue.

Without thinking it through—without calculating risks, escape routes, or structural stability—he stumbled toward it. His fingers clawed at the rough bark as he climbed, muscles burning despite being in perfect physical condition. The contradiction was maddening: his body never gave out, but his mind was crumbling.

Reaching the hollow, he shoved himself inside. The space was just wide enough for him to curl into, his knees pulled to his chest. For the first time since awakening, he felt warmth—a fragile, fleeting comfort as the tree's interior shielded him from the cold wind.

No warmth of fire, no safety in numbers—just the fragile illusion of shelter carved into an ancient tree.

His eyelids grew heavy, the darkness wrapping around him like a fragile cocoon.

Just before sleep claimed him, a flicker of awareness cut through the haze.

Why do I recognize this place?

Not just the forest, but something deeper—names, locations, faint impressions woven into the other's memories. Landmarks he'd never seen yet somehow knew. Places the beggar had only heard about, whispered in fragments of conversations, etched into the background of a life spent surviving on the edges.

The familiarity clawed at the back of his mind, too tangled with exhaustion to unravel. The thought drifted, slipping through his fingers like ash on the wind.

I'll figure it out after I wake up.

The last thread of consciousness snapped.

For now, the forest watched in silence.

And Reich dreamed… but not all dreams were his own..

○●○

Darkness held him, weightless and silent, wrapped in the fragile cocoon of restless sleep. But peace was never meant for Reich.

Pain dragged him back.

A blinding, searing pain exploded through his body, so intense it felt like waking up inside a fire. His eyes snapped open just in time to see a monstrous beak, the size of his entire body, snapping shut around him.

Crack.

Agony shot through him as he was yanked from the hollow, plucked like an insect from its hiding place. The bird—a creature of impossible size—hoisted him effortlessly into the air, its jagged beak crushing down with mechanical indifference. His ribs crumpled.

Reich screamed, though his voice was swallowed by the wind as the creature flung him skyward with casual force.

Weightless.

Then—gravity reclaimed him.

He hit the ground like a broken doll, bones shattering on impact. His legs twisted at impossible angles, jagged ends of bone piercing through flesh.

Another scream ripped from his throat, raw and primal. But even as he writhed, gasping for air, the golden haze flickered—bones snapping back into place with sickening pops, flesh knitting together like time itself reversed.

But the pain remained.

A shadow blotted out the light as the creature descended. Enormous talons slammed down, pinning him like prey. One claw—each talon as thick as his arm—wrapped around his torso with bone-crushing pressure. In the other claw, a massive bear, easily three times his size, hung lifeless, its body limp, blood dripping in thick rivulets.

Reich struggled instinctively, but it was useless. The talons crushed his newly healed ribs again with casual cruelty, splintering them like brittle sticks.

The bird took flight, its colossal wings beating with the force of hurricanes, lifting both Reich and the bear effortlessly into the sky.

The ground disappeared beneath him, replaced by clouds and cold wind.

Through the haze of relentless pain, Reich could just barely make out the creature's details—its feathers dark as storm clouds, eyes like molten gold, glowing faintly with predatory indifference.

This wasn't an ordinary beast. It had done this before.

And it knew exactly how much force it took to break a human.

But it didn't know Reich couldn't die.

Not yet.

His body healed again and again, each fracture mended by that cursed golden haze, only for the talons to crush him anew with every shift in the creature's grip.

Agony layered upon agony until the pain blurred into something surreal—a raw, endless scream trapped inside his mind.

Above him, nestled between jagged cliffs, he saw where they were headed: a nest.

Massive, twisted branches formed a sprawling structure, lined with bones—human bones. And within it, three enormous chicks, each the size of Reich, squawked hungrily, their beaks snapping open and shut with anticipation.

This was his destination.

Not as a survivor.

But as food.

The flight felt endless, a blur of pain and sky, but it ended as abruptly as it began.

With a guttural screech, the massive bird hurled Reich to the side like a discarded scrap, his body slamming into the jagged edges of the nest. Bones snapped, ribs splintered. He choked on the copper tang of blood, gasping, as the golden haze flickered to life again—sealing the damage but doing nothing to dull the pain.

He barely had time to breathe before the sound began.

Ripping.

The bird—its monstrous form towering like a god of claw and feather—turned its attention to the giant bear it had carried. With mechanical precision, it tore into the carcass, ripping flesh from bone, thick strands of muscle dangling from its beak. Blood sprayed, dark and steaming against the cold air.

Reich could only watch, paralyzed by a terror deeper than pain.

The bird's chicks, nestled in the center of the nest, squawked hungrily. Each one was as big as Reich, blind and grotesque, their undeveloped eyes sealed shut, beaks snapping wildly at the air, driven purely by instinct. They couldn't feed themselves.

But the mother could.

With swift, surgical efficiency, the bird shredded the bear **bit by bit**, tearing chunks free, chewing them slightly, then regurgitating the pulpy remains into the gaping maws of its offspring. The chicks screeched in blind hunger, blood dripping from their raw, toothless beaks, their little bodies squirming with gluttonous need.

Reich's body trembled—not from injury, but from pure, undiluted fear.

I'm next.

The thought carved itself into his mind, sharp as the bird's talons.

Instinct overrode reason. He crawled. Broken ribs healing, muscles screaming, he dragged himself beneath the rotting remains of other creatures—old bones, scraps of decaying flesh, even pieces of what could only have been other humans. The stench of death was overwhelming, suffocating, but it was better than being seen.

He buried himself in the filth, heart racing, every nerve on fire.

But the bird didn't even glance his way.

Once the bear was gone—reduced to bones and blood-smeared feathers—the creature stretched its wings lazily, let out a low, guttural cry, and took off, disappearing into the sky with the same indifference it had shown while tearing its prey apart.

The bird never looked back. Because to it, Reich wasn't a man. Just meat. Nothing more.

Reich remained hidden, motionless, his mind reeling.

Minutes passed. Maybe hours.

Then he saw it.

A faint glow.

Beneath the blood-soaked mess where the bear had been, something shimmered—a small, pulsing purple orb, faintly translucent, radiating an otherworldly light. Its glow was soft, but it burned with a presence that screamed of power.

Reich's eyes locked onto it, his fear momentarily eclipsed by curiosity.

A memory surfaced—not from the other, but from **him**.

Words on a page. A story he'd read.

A realization slammed into him like a tidal wave.

A magical core.

The concentrated essence of a being's life force. The very heart of its power, left behind after death. Consuming it granted the user a fragment of that power—sometimes physical strength, sometimes abilities beyond comprehension.

It clicked.

The names, the places, the familiarity woven into the edges of his mind—it wasn't just the other's memories.

This is the world from the book.

The book he'd been reading before everything changed. Before he woke up here.

His breath hitched, heart racing for an entirely new reason.

I'm inside the world of that book.

Not fiction. Not a dream.

Real.

And if the rules of the book applied here…

His eyes drifted back to the glowing core, its faint pulse like a heartbeat.

Then this could change everything.

○●○

[AN] Hey there, reader! If you've made it this far, thank you for diving into 31 Days to Die. This is just the beginning of Reich's brutal journey through a world that doesn't care if he survives—or suffers.

This story isn't about overpowered protagonists who breeze through challenges. It's about first enduring when the world tries to break you. It's dark, raw, and unapologetic, but beneath the pain, there's a fight for purpose, identity, and maybe even redemption.

If you enjoyed the chapter (or if you're still recovering from the emotional damage), I'd love to hear your thoughts. Leave a comment, drop a review, or just scream into the void below—I'll probably hear it.

Your feedback keeps me writing, and your engagement helps the story reach more readers. If you're curious about what happens next, hit that add to library button so you don't miss the next chapter.

Reich's journey is far from over—and it only gets darker from here.

Thanks again for reading. See you in the next chapter.

– Kuroganne