The Road to Survival

6:40 AM

Reynar woke with a sharp breath, his body stiff and aching. Every muscle felt like it had been wrung dry. His wounds had stopped bleeding, but they still burned. He wasn't dead, though. That was something.

He blinked, adjusting to the morning light. The fire was out—just a patch of blackened earth where the warmth had been. The forest looked… different. In the dark, it had been endless, suffocating. Now, with the sun creeping through the canopy, it almost seemed peaceful. Almost.

Then the stench hit him.

"Ugh…" He groaned, rubbing his face. "That's foul."

His eyes flicked to the carcass. The beast was still there, a grotesque heap of flesh and fur, its blood soaking into the dirt. Its eyes were dull, lifeless. A part of him almost expected it to move.

He let out a breath. "Can't believe I actually killed that thing…"

His throat was dry. His stomach ached. He ran a hand through his tangled hair, exhaling slowly.

"Right. First things first. Water. Then humans."

He pushed himself up, rolling his shoulders, biting back the soreness. His axe and sword were right where he left them. Grabbing both, he gave one last glance at the corpse before turning away.

No reason to stay. Time to get out of this cursed forest.

He walked.

For how long, he couldn't tell. The forest stretched on, endless and unchanging. Trees loomed in every direction, their gnarled roots twisting across the earth like veins. The silence was heavy, broken only by the rustling of leaves and the occasional distant cry of some unseen creature.

His throat was dry, his limbs sore, his stomach tight with hunger. He was losing track of time. Each step felt the same—one foot after another, pushing through the undergrowth, searching. For water. For something. Anything.

The trees began to thin out, their towering forms retreating like silent sentinels. The air shifted—sharper, cleaner. The damp, musky scent of the forest faded, replaced by something fresher. Open.

He moved tirelessly, his body running on sheer will.

Then, he saw it.

At first, it was just a break in the treeline. A strange gap, unnatural in its shape. His brows furrowed as he stepped forward, cautious.

And then—

The world opened up before him.

An endless valley stretched to the horizon, bathed in golden light. Fields of wheat swayed under the breeze, rippling like waves beneath the sky. The sheer vastness of it, the openness after so long in the suffocating forest, made him pause.

For a second, he just stood there, taking it in.

Then—

"FINALLY, NO MORE FOREST!!"

His voice rang through the quiet, his throat hoarse, but he didn't care. His legs carried him forward, up a small hill, his breathing steady despite the exhaustion.

Reaching the top, his gaze locked onto the sight below.

A road.

A winding dirt path stretched through the valley, worn from years of use. It cut through the wheat fields, vanishing into the rolling hills ahead. The golden stalks swayed gently, brushing against the edges of the road. In the distance, the sun hung low, bathing everything in a warm, amber glow.

It was the first true sign of civilization he had seen since waking up on that cursed shore.

Reynar exhaled, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Finally… HUMAAAANS!"

He stretched, rolling his shoulders as his stomach twisted in protest.

"Right. Water first."

A sigh escaped him as he eyed the road.

"Guess I just follow this and see where it leads. A city, a village… honestly, I don't care. As long as there's water."

With that, he adjusted his weapons and set off, his steps firm, his shadow stretching long behind him.

The dirt road stretched ahead, cutting through the golden fields like an old scar. The wheat on either side rustled softly, shifting in waves as the wind passed through. The sky, once bright, was changing. The sunlight dimmed as thick clouds crawled across the heavens, swallowing the blue.

His boots pressed into the packed earth, each step slow but steady. The aches in his muscles had dulled into something constant, no longer sharp enough to slow him down. His wounds had stopped bleeding, but they still pulled at his skin when he moved. His throat was dry, his stomach empty, but none of it mattered.

He had no other choice but to keep moving.

The road meant civilization. Civilization meant water, food, and answers. Maybe trouble, too.

Reynar exhaled sharply. "One thing at a time."

The wind picked up, colder than before. The warmth of the morning was slipping away, replaced by something else—damp, heavy air. He knew that smell. A storm was coming.

"Great," he muttered, pulling his cloak tighter. "Of course, it just had to be rain."

His fingers curled into fists as he kept walking, his eyes locked on the road ahead. He didn't know where it would lead, but it didn't matter.

He would find something at the end of it.

The first drop landed on his cheek—cold, sudden. Reynard paused, glancing up. The sky had darkened even more, the clouds now thick and heavy, rolling overhead like an approaching tide.

Then, the rain came.

It started slow, a soft drizzle that pattered against the dirt road, darkening the earth beneath his boots. But within moments, it grew heavier. The wind carried it sideways, droplets striking his face like tiny needles. The golden fields around him swayed violently, their stalks bending under the downpour.

Reynar exhaled, wiping the water from his brow. "Of course," he muttered, his voice lost beneath the growing storm. "Figures."

He pulled his cloak tighter, but it was useless. The rain was everywhere, seeping into his clothes, dripping from his hair. The warmth of the morning was long gone, replaced by a damp chill that clung to his skin.

But the road was still there, stretching forward, vanishing into the misty horizon.

There was no turning back.

With a deep breath, he lowered his head and kept walking.

Reynar's steps had become heavy, each one dragging more than the last. The rain had not stopped; it was relentless, soaking through his cloak, his boots, his skin. The world around him was a blur of water, mud, and the steady rhythm of his feet pressing into the sodden earth.

The hunger had gnawed at him for days, but it was the thirst that was tearing him apart now. Since he was washed up on the coast, he hadn't found a single drop of water to drink. The dry, parched sensation in his throat had only grown worse with each passing hour, and every step felt heavier. His body was on the edge of collapsing, every movement a battle against the growing weakness.

But still, the road stretched before him. It led somewhere, he knew it. To something. To someone.

He didn't know how long he'd been walking or how much farther it was, but his eyes strained to catch any sign of life. And then, through the haze of rain, the shapes began to appear. Faint outlines on the horizon. Buildings.

At first, he thought it was a trick of the weather, some mirage brought on by the desperate exhaustion. But as he squinted, the forms became clearer. Larger. More defined.

A city.

From the top of the hill, Reynar's eyes scanned the horizon. The city lay sprawled before him, distant but clear. Tall, jagged buildings rose into the sky, their outlines cut sharply against the gray clouds. Some buildings were old, crumbling, as though time had taken its toll, while others were hastily constructed, standing sturdy but battered by neglect.

Iron gates, weathered by the years, guarded the city's entrance. The roads leading in seemed quiet, untouched by movement or life. The faint glow of lanterns shimmered in the distance, casting weak reflections on the wet ground, but there was no sound of bustling crowds or the noise of a busy market—only silence.

The city seemed worn, tired, as if it had seen countless years pass in a state of quiet survival. Yet, it was still a city. Reynar's heart raced, hope flickering in his chest. His body screamed for water, but before him lay the first sign of civilization he had seen in days.

The road was close, but his legs had little strength left to carry him any further.

The word echoed in his mind, the meaning taking root. His chest tightened as his heart beat faster, the weariness in his body momentarily forgotten. Food. Water. Shelter. The thought of these simple things, once so distant, now within reach.

But the closer he got, the more his body protested. His legs felt like lead, his chest tight, his every breath labored. The city's silhouette was still distant, and with each step, it seemed just as far away as the first time he had seen it. The rain pelted down harder, as if mocking his hope, making the journey seem even longer, the road stretching on endlessly.

Then, as if the universe itself was testing him, his legs buckled. His vision blurred, the world spinning like a storm. His knees hit the mud with a sickening thud, the ground rising to meet him as his body gave in to the unbearable weight of his exhaustion and thirst.

He tried to push himself up, to stand, but his arms trembled, and his hands couldn't grip the dirt beneath him. The world went black around the edges, and he could no longer hear the sound of the rain or his ragged breath. Only the desperate pounding of his own heart.

And then…

Silence.