The Beginning of Power

Arthur groaned as he peeled himself off the cold ground, every muscle in his body protesting the movement. His ribs ached from the fall, and his legs felt like lead. The forest canopy above shrouded him in dim light, the sounds of distant growls and rustling leaves keeping him on edge. He had survived the Nightfangs, barely, but he wasn't out of danger yet.

With a deep breath, he forced himself upright, wincing as pain flared through his side. He needed to move. Staying in one place was an open invitation for something worse to find him, and he had a strong feeling this world had plenty of things worse than oversized wolves. His clothes were torn, dirt clung to his skin, and his throat burned with thirst. But survival was the only thing on his mind now.

The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and foliage. He took a hesitant step forward, brushing aside a few low-hanging branches as he tried to get his bearings. His landing had sent him tumbling into a deeper part of the forest, where the trees stood taller and the underbrush was denser. It was eerily quiet, save for the occasional rustling in the distance.

He moved cautiously, his ears tuned to any sound that might signal danger. His hands clenched into fists as he weaved through the dense terrain, stepping lightly to avoid making unnecessary noise. The last thing he needed was another predator catching wind of him. Every now and then, he would stop, listening intently before pressing forward again.

Minutes turned into an hour, and exhaustion clawed at him. His stomach churned with hunger, but food was the least of his worries. He needed water. Desperately. His tongue felt like sandpaper, and every breath he took only made it worse. He pushed forward, hoping to find a stream or anything that could ease the burning in his throat.

Then he heard it.

A faint, rhythmic sound—water, flowing somewhere nearby.

Relief flooded him as he quickened his pace, his feet carrying him toward the promise of salvation. The sound grew louder, the rush of a small river or creek becoming clearer with every step. And then, through a break in the trees, he saw it—a stream, shimmering in the dim light, winding its way through the forest like a silver thread.

Arthur didn't hesitate. He stumbled toward the edge, dropping to his knees as he cupped the cool water in his hands, drinking greedily. The icy liquid sent a jolt through his system, soothing his throat and refreshing his weary body. He splashed some onto his face, sighing as the coldness woke him up even further.

His relief, however, was short-lived.

A presence lurked nearby.

That familiar, gut-wrenching feeling of being watched crawled up his spine, sending every nerve in his body into high alert. He lifted his head slowly, eyes scanning the dense foliage across the stream. The forest was still. Too still.

Then the silence shattered.

Something burst from the underbrush—fast, large, and predatory. Arthur barely had time to roll away as a massive clawed limb **slammed** into the spot where he had been kneeling, dirt and rocks flying in all directions. His heart leapt into his throat as he scrambled back, finally getting a full view of the creature before him.

It was a panther—but wrong.

Its body was covered in sleek, shadow-like fur that seemed to ripple unnaturally, like living darkness shifting across its form. Its eyes glowed an eerie crimson, locked onto him with a hunger that sent ice through his veins. When it bared its fangs, a deep, guttural growl rumbled through the air, primal and menacing.

Arthur barely had a second to react before it lunged.

He threw himself to the side, narrowly avoiding the creature's snapping jaws. His heart pounded as he hit the ground and rolled, coming up just in time to see the beast pivot with unnatural agility. It didn't hesitate, launching forward again, claws extended to rip him apart.

Instinct took over.

Arthur dove for a nearby rock and swung it with everything he had.

The impact landed clean against the beast's head, causing it to snarl in irritation more than pain. But that was all he needed—an opening. He took off in a sprint, dodging between trees as the creature snarled and gave chase, its powerful limbs tearing through the terrain with terrifying speed.

Branches whipped at his face as he ran, his breath ragged, his mind racing for a plan. Fighting head-on wasn't an option—not against something this fast, this strong. He needed an advantage. Anything.

His eyes darted around, searching desperately for something he could use. Then he saw it—

A dead tree, barely holding onto its last bit of life.

An idea sparked. It was risky, but he didn't have a choice.

Arthur changed direction at the last second, heading straight for the withered tree. The panther-beast was right on his heels, its breaths hot and hungry. He could feel it closing in, hear the pounding of its massive paws against the ground.

At the very last moment, Arthur pivoted and leapt.

His hands caught a low-hanging branch, and with every ounce of strength he had, he swung himself upward.

The beast had no time to react.

Its own momentum slammed it directly into the trunk.

The brittle wood gave way with a loud, splintering crack, and the entire tree collapsed on top of the creature.

A choked snarl escaped from beneath the mass of twisted wood and debris. Arthur landed on his feet, panting, eyes locked on the unmoving heap. Dust and splinters filled the air as silence settled over the forest once more.

He waited.

Nothing moved.

Cautiously, he stepped closer, heart still hammering against his ribs. The beast was still beneath the fallen tree, pinned under the weight of the collapse. It twitched slightly, its breath labored, but it was trapped. The fight was over.

Arthur let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, staggering back until his legs gave out beneath him. His entire body ached, his hands trembled, and exhaustion hit him like a freight train.

He had survived.

Again.

Lying there, staring up at the endless canopy above, Arthur couldn't help but laugh. It was short, breathless, and slightly hysterical, but it was laughter nonetheless.

If this was only the beginning, he had a long road ahead of him.

And he was just getting started.