To Eat, Or To Be Eaten

Warren hardly ever dreamed in the outskirts.

Not because he didn't want to but because life there was too strenuous, too relentless, to allow for proper rest. It wasn't uncommon to go weeks without sleep, surviving off a few hours here and there. Always watching your back. Always expecting something worse than yesterday.

But more than exhaustion, the dreams themselves were dangerous.

Dreams meant hope.

And the outskirts fed on hope.

Dreaming of a better life, a warm home, a quiet day without fear it was all unbearable. Not because it was impossible ,many family's in the outer and inner districts had exactly this, no the reason dreams were so unbearable was because it was cruel to imagine something you'd never have. Any time Warren caught himself thinking of what could've been, he'd crush the thought beneath the weight of what was.

His life sucked. That was the truth.

But not the worst truth.

He still had Lena at least when she could be there. He still had acquaintances, even a few people he might've called friends. He laughed, sometimes. He was still human.

Compared to others, his life might've looked enviable.

Some kids didn't get fed. Some didn't get housed. Lena made sure Warren had both, even if it was slowly killing her to do it.

Part of the reason he used the app the reason he was here was because he couldn't stand making her carry that burden anymore.

From a young age, he'd watched his mother work herself to death. A system that treated her like garbage. A world that never once looked back when she died.

He had decided—promised—he would never work for that system. Never bow to it. Never let himself be shackled by his Rank.

But people still needed Food. Shelter. Water.

it was a privilege to work, ironically. Denying that privilege wasn't outlawed . But in the outskirts, refusing to work meant refusing to eat. refusing to drink. refusing to sleep. refusing to live.

Warren didn't come here to climb to Rank 5. He didn't care about being a Rank 1.

He just couldn't let himself die after everything Lena—and his parents—had done for him.

That's why he tapped the screen.

That's why he accepted the terms.

That's why he was here.

Wherever here was.

For the first time in a long time he got a well needed rest.

Not to say it was perfect—far from it. His back was twisted into an awkward position due to the uneven forest ground. One side of his body was higher than the other, tilted by the slope beneath him. His head rested on a tangle of roots, knotted and gnarled, hard as stone. In fact, the current sleeping arrangement almost made him miss the deflated air mattress back in the outskirts.

Almost.

But Warren was tough. A little discomfort was a welcome feeling after a life defined by struggle. In a strange way, it made things feel familiar.

As he lay there, a cool breeze played gently with his hair. The grass, soft and untamed, brushed lightly against his skin. For a moment, everything was still. Calm.

Then the silence broke.

A deep rumbling echoed through the forest, followed by something louder—sharper. A sound so alien that it pulled Warren halfway into consciousness.

He didn't recognize it.

Couldn't place it.

In fact, he couldn't even say he'd heard anything remotely like it before.

Except maybe... once.

Back in the outskirts, as a boy, he'd seen a car.

A real one. A rusted-out hunk of metal barely clinging to life, held together more by spite than engineering. But when the owner turned it on, it roared—loud and defiant. The kind of sound that didn't belong in the outskirts. That made everything else go quiet for a moment, like even the street itself knew to shut up.

This sound... was similar in spirit, if not in pitch.

But it was different too.

Lower. Deeper. Cleaner.

It didn't sputter or cough like the car. It boomed across the forest.

A smooth, mechanical hum with layers underneath. Like gears grinding against bone. Like metal scraping through ancient stone. Like something that wasn't supposed to be alive waking up anyway.

It was the sound of another living creature . this would be the first creature other than himself that he's heard since his arrival in this strange world. 

Something massive.

And suddenly, the breeze didn't feel as comforting anymore.

His eyes darted open. For a moment, he didn't know where he was. Then the reality of it returned: the app, the forest, the impossible world he had signed himself into.

He sat up slowly, heart pounding against his ribs. The sky was still dark, the air heavy with early morning chill. 

the forest around him was silent—eerily so.

Warren held his breath and listened.

Nothing.

No more wailing.

Just the trees, tall and unmoving, casting long shadows under the silver haze of a half-set moon.

Maybe it was just a dream, he thought. But his body didn't agree. His chest was tight. His palms sweaty.

He stared at the woods for several minutes, unmoving, waiting for something to emerge.

But nothing did.

Eventually, too tired to think, and too anxious to sleep, he leaned back against the tree behind him and shut his eyes again.

***

The second time he awoke, sunlight bathed the forest in gold.

Birds chirped softly in the distance. The wind blew gently across the field he had found the day before. Everything looked peaceful.

But Warren's stomach didn't agree.

The ache was sharp now, turning from discomfort into desperation. He hadn't eaten since entering the forest. Maybe longer.

He got to his feet, unsteady but alert, and began moving.

The deeper he went into the woods, the more twisted the trees became. Thick roots curled through the underbrush. Moss coated stone and bark alike. The air smelled damp.

Then came another smell.

Iron.

Heavy. Wet. Familiar.

He froze mid-step, nostrils flaring. He knew that scent. Too well. It was the smell that haunted the outskirts—back alleys after a fight, rusted machinery where workers lost fingers, dried puddles left behind after someone didn't come home.

It was blood.

A lot of it.

Cautious now, he crept forward. The scent grew stronger. He kept low, moving from tree to tree until the source came into view—and when it did, he stopped breathing altogether.

Ahead, resting in front of a massive cave opening, was a creature straight out of a nightmare.

A wolf.

But not just a wolf.

A giant.

Its body stood nearly three meters tall even while crouched. Its muscles rippled beneath blood-matted fur, half of which was a deep, natural grey. The other half was soaked a glistening crimson. 

Beneath the creature lay five mangled bodies. Or what was left of them. They were torn beyond recognition limbs ripped, torsos crushed. Some didn't even have heads. It was impossible to tell what they once were.

Human? Animal? Something else?

It didn't matter.

What mattered was that the monster in front of Warren had done it—and it hadn't even broken a sweat.

He pressed himself behind a thick tree and held his breath.

The wolf rested at the mouth of the cave, unmoving but far from harmless. Its ears twitched occasionally. Its chest rose and fell slowly, almost rhythmically. 

despite the clear danger Warrens eyes kept drifting to the corpses 

There might be something there. Food. Tools. Something.

Just the mere thought of food made his stomach clench harder

He waited.

The wolf didn't move.

It stood nearly three meters tall, with deep crimson fur matted in gore. Its body looked torn and twisted, patches of grey visible beneath the red—real fur, stained by someone else's blood.

In front of it, five corpses lay discarded. Limbs bent the wrong way. Torsos torn open. Mangled beyond recognition. Behind the beast a yawning cave mouth.

Warren froze.

The beast shifted its weight, favoring it's right side.

It was wounded.

Its back leg scraped the dirt as it limped forward, slowly lowering its massive head to feed.

It didn't eat like a wild animal. It ripped. Shook the bodies violently before gnashing through bone.

Warren didn't move.Didn't breathe.

'It must be hungry too… must be nice, being able to eat just because you're hungry.'

The wolf returned to the mouth of the cave, its hind leg dragging worse than before.

'That's good… there's still a chance.'

Clearly the beast had sustained some damage and the blood on its fur may not have been entirely from the bodies that lay in between warren and the beast.

Warren began to formulate a plan mainly motivated by his hunger. He would continue to watch the wolf and when it became dark he would lurk over to the bodies and retrieve some meat. At the thought of being able to satiate his hunger his stomach grew tighter. 

He waited.Watched.

The sun dipped lower.Still, the beast didn't leave.

But Warren couldn't take it anymore.

The pangs of his stomach had grown far greater than ever before in the outskirts. Warren had long been accustomed to the sense of hunger especially after living with lena for so many years some nights only getting half a ration pack. which was barley enough to feed a small boy let alone 2 adults. but for some reason this new body felt completely different from his old one. at first the changes were minimal but the pain he felt now was proof that this body was nothing like his old one. The hunger was driving him insane. A feral sort of madness curled in his gut, louder than fear, louder than logic.

He made a choice.

He moved.

Step by silent step, he crept forward, mimicking the beast's own wounded gait.

 despite the pain from his stomach he never once lost focus of the real threat. His eyes locked onto the monstrous wolf guarding the entrance to the cave.

Ten meters.

Eight.

Five.

He crouched, reached towards a discarded satchel near a torn body—

Before he could reach it his body almost involuntarily froze.

The wolf's eyes snapped open.

It rose.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

And then it moved.

Fast.

Too fast.

Warren's instincts kicked in he darted left, hoping to circle around toward the beast's injured leg.

He barely made it three steps.

A blur of red fur lunged at him.

The difference between warrens speed and the Wolfs was clear.

The beasts snout slammed into Warrens side, it felt like a unstoppable force meeting a very movable object, launching Warren off the ground and sending him flying into the rocks behind the beast.

Collapsed into a broken heap.