Chapter 13: The Fiery Devil Forest

Finn had been certain that after grueling physical conditioning, the next step would be training with his beloved mobile suits. But nope—he was dead wrong.

Disappointment crashed over him like a tidal wave. He was still stuck honing his own body, not piloting war machines. According to GoldieTron, if his foundation wasn't so pathetic, they wouldn't be wasting a whole month on this. That stung. Back at school, Finn's physique was top-tier—good enough to enlist in the military without breaking a sweat. Yet here he was, slapped with a "pathetic" label. Talk about a blow to the ego.

The second phase of Volume One's physical training kicked off: environmental adaptation and real combat. Not the kind with mobile suits, but raw, bloody, hand-to-hand survival.

The familiar training arena vanished in an instant, replaced by a sprawling, primal forest. Twisted, grotesque trees loomed overhead, their bizarre shapes screaming adventure movie set—except the stakes were his life. One wrong move, and Finn's story would end right here. GoldieTron claimed the challenges were tailored to his level, but after surviving Phase One, Finn wasn't buying it. If he hadn't been tough enough—and clung to the things tying him to this world—he'd have crumbled already. Quit? Not an option. Giving up now, after coming this far, wasn't happening. Plus, deep down, Finn sensed it: if he could claw his way out of this alive, the payoff would be unimaginable.

"Master, welcome to the Devil Forest," GoldieTron's mechanical voice buzzed. "A conquered planet from our Mayan civilization. Their tech is primitive, but their combat prowess is fierce. You'll face two types of threats: plant-based lifeforms and animal-based monsters. Your mission—survive here for one week."

"Oh, great. Plant freaks and beasties," Finn muttered, scanning the forest's edge. "What are their strengths and weaknesses? And where's my gear?"

"You'll have to discover their strengths and weaknesses yourself," GoldieTron replied coolly. "For practical experience, your only weapon is an Alpha Alloy Knife—standard tech for your planet. Your dietary system is now active. Fail to eat enough, and your combat strength will drop…"

"Stop. I get it!" Finn snapped. Strength drops meant game over—he didn't need the lecture. That damn robot.

"Then I wish you luck, Master." GoldieTron gave a mock bow, flapping its metallic wings before vanishing with a head wiggle. Left behind on the dirt? One Alpha Alloy Knife.

Finn snatched it up, glaring at the spot where his so-called "servant" had been. Some master I am, he thought bitterly. This takes the cake for lousy leadership.

"Test begins. Enter the Devil Forest in three seconds. Countdown: three…"

No hesitation. Finn dove forward, sprinting into the forest like a man possessed. That cursed machine wouldn't give him an extra second, let alone a minute.

The moment he crossed the threshold, daylight dimmed. All ties to the outside world severed. Finn froze, senses sharp, soaking in the eerie stillness. This was it—a real fight for survival.

He hadn't been trained formally, but books and movies had taught him plenty. Rule one in an unknown hellhole: find a safe spot. A few seconds passed, and his eyes adjusted to the gloom—deep, endless shadows stretched ahead. The plants here were alien, nothing like Earth's. After a month of brutal training, Finn steadied his nerves, settling into a calm, focused state. He edged toward a massive, leafless plant—an ugly, ink-green thing resembling a giant, hideous radish.

One hand pressed against its surface, the other gripped the knife tight. GoldieTron had left him this blade for a reason—his bare fists wouldn't cut it. That much was clear. Over the past month, alongside the torture of training, he'd learned to think first, act second. GoldieTron's glitchy explanations often left him in the dark, forcing him to figure things out solo. Good judgment had saved his skin more than once. Brain over brawn—that was the safer bet.

The forest was deathly quiet, but a faint, oppressive vibe pulsed from its depths, punctuated by odd roars. Real or imagined, Finn couldn't tell. One thing was certain: this wouldn't be a peaceful stroll.

Then it hit—killing intent. Finn lunged forward just as the "radish" behind him split open, revealing a gaping maw lined with razor-sharp teeth. They snapped shut with a bone-chilling crunch, missing him by a hair. Sweat soaked him instantly. If he hadn't sensed that malice, he'd be monster chow right now.

Idiot! He cursed himself. Knowing plant-based threats existed, he'd still let his guard slip. Theories were one thing—applying them in life-or-death moments was another. Next time, he might not be so lucky.

But Finn didn't run. No other monsters swarmed in, and the toothy freak didn't charge. Perfect. A chance to test his skills and study the enemy. Knife in hand, he shifted position, eyes locked on what he dubbed the "Hammer Freak." Its jagged teeth dripped with saliva, its rubbery body twisting slowly. Roots anchored it to the soil, limiting its speed—yet that bite had been lightning-fast. Finn pieced it together: slow movement, explosive attacks. He had the edge if he played it smart.

Crouching low, he grabbed a rock and hurled it at the creature's eye. The second it flinched, Finn sprang, slashing the alloy knife across its side. No fatal blow—just a test. Green ooze seeped from the gash, confirming he'd broken its tough, elastic skin.

The Hammer Freak roared, enraged, and lumbered toward him, claws flailing. But to Finn, it was an open book. Like GoldieTron hinted, these things had brawn, not brains. Its wild swings left gaps everywhere. And then he saw it—beneath its gaping mouth, a softer patch it instinctively shielded with its chin, even mid-rage.

Before the training, Finn would've been a sitting duck against this thing. His old workouts? Child's play. But a month in hell had dulled his fear of death, sharpened his instincts. Instead of retreating, he charged. As its claws swung down, he ducked forward, slamming his head against its slimy jaw. With a guttural yell, he drove the knife upward, pouring every ounce of strength into piercing that weak spot.

The blade sank deep.

Cliffhanger

Blood pounded in Finn's ears as the Hammer Freak thrashed, then stilled. He'd won—for now. But as he yanked the knife free, a low, guttural roar rumbled from the forest's heart, far more menacing than anything he'd faced yet. Something bigger was coming. A week in this nightmare? This was just the warm-up.

Could Finn outsmart the horrors ahead? Would GoldieTron's brutal training be enough to keep him alive?