The Greenwold lived up to its name.

  Arin had never seen so much green in his entire existence. Every shade imaginable seemed to be represented. A deep emerald of moss-covered trunks, the bright lime of new spring leaves, the dark forest green of ancient pines, and the yellow-green of ferns that carpeted the forest floor.

  Is this what Levi saw when he looked at the world? So many colors?

  The transition from the muddy riverbank to the forest edge had taken longer than Arin expected. The ground near the river was soft, treacherous, and twice he'd had to detour around puddles that threatened to dilute his mass. The rising sun had warmed the mud, making it easier to traverse, but Arin could feel the pull of exhaustion settling into his core.

  Do slimes get tired? I never felt this way in the jar.

  The answer, apparently, was yes. The constant movement, the fights, the fear—all of it was draining something from him that rest might restore. At least, that's what Arin hoped.

  The first trees of the Greenwold rose before him like ancient sentinels. Their trunks were thick, gnarled with age, and their roots created a complex network of hollows and hiding places. Arin rolled toward the nearest oak, its base wide enough that three men standing arm to arm couldn't encircle it.

  A hollow at the base of the tree, perhaps two feet deep and half as wide, seemed to beckon. Arin flowed inside, compressing his mass to fit the space. The wood was dry here, protected from rain by the canopy above, and the smell—if Arin could be said to smell—was earthy and ancient.

  Safe. For now.

  Arin settled into the hollow, his red mass darkening slightly as he relaxed his form. The notifications from his status still lingered at the edge of his awareness, and for the first time since leaving the sewers, he had a moment to examine them properly.

  Status.

  *****

  Arin Race: Slime (Evolved / Sapient)

  Level - 4

  Skill Points - 1

  Abilities:

  Absorption - Tier 2

  Fire Resistance - Tier 1

  Ice Resistance - Tier 1

  Lightning Resistance - Tier 1

  Physical Resistance - Tier 1

  Shadow Resistance - Tier 1

  Magical Resistance - Tier 1

  Skill Absorption (0 / 2 Skills Absorbed)

  Acidic - Tier 1

  Slime Control - Tier 1

  *****

  One skill point. What does that mean?

  Arin focused on the words, trying to make sense of them. The system had granted him this when he reached level four, but the purpose remained unclear. Could he improve his abilities? Learn new ones? The phrase "Skill Absorption" caught his attention—zero out of two skills absorbed. That suggested he could take something from the creatures he consumed, but he hadn't acquired anything yet.

  I need to learn how this works. However, I need to rest first.

  The hollow was warm, sheltered, and for the first time since Levi's death, Arin felt something approaching peace. He couldn’t call it happiness because that emotion was still too foreign, too painful to contemplate. Instead, it was more a feeling of relief about being no longer in immediate danger.

  His consciousness began to drift, and Arin let it. Sleep, or whatever approximation of it a slime could achieve, pulled at him like a gentle tide.

  ***

  Arin woke to the sound of footsteps.

  His awareness snapped back instantly, his mass tensing in the hollow. The footsteps were light, careful, and accompanied by the soft rustle of disturbed leaves. Something was moving through the forest, and it was close.

  Arin shifted his vision toward the opening of the hollow. Late afternoon sun filtered through the canopy, casting dappled shadows across the forest floor. He'd slept longer than intended. It appeared that a large portion of the day had passed while he recovered.

  A shape moved past the tree, perhaps ten feet away. Arin caught a glimpse of brown fur, four legs, and a bushy tail before the creature disappeared behind a dense thicket of ferns.

  [ Forest Fox - Level 2 ]

  A fox. Levi read about those once, from one of his books.

  The memory was fuzzy, but Arin recalled something about foxes being clever hunters, opportunistic feeders that would eat almost anything. The creature was smaller than him, lower level, and alone.

  Prey.

  The thought came unbidden, and with it a pang of something that might have been guilt. The fox wasn't threatening him. It was just passing through, probably searching for food of its own. Did that make it fair game?

  I need to grow stronger. That's the only way to survive. And survival means eating.

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  Arin flowed out of the hollow, keeping low to the ground. His red coloration stood out against the brown and green of the forest floor, but the spotted sunlight helped break up his shape. He moved slowly, carefully, tracking the fox by the sound of its movement through the undergrowth.

  The fox had stopped about twenty feet ahead, its attention focused on something in the leaf litter. As Arin drew closer, staying behind a fallen log, he could see what had captured the creature's interest—a beetle, though much smaller than the one he'd fought in the sewers.

  The fox pounced, its front paws pinning the beetle to the ground. Quick snaps of its jaws, and the insect was gone.

  Now. While it's distracted.

  Arin surged forward, his mass compressing into the wedge shape that had become his primary weapon. The fox's ears twitched at the sound of his approach, and the creature spun, eyes widening at the sight of the red slime bearing down on it.

  But Arin was faster. The wedge struck the fox's side with enough force to knock it off balance. Before the creature could recover, Arin's mass flowed over it, engulfing the struggling animal.

  The fox thrashed, its claws raking through Arin's gelatinous body, creating furrows that hurt but didn't significantly damage him. Its teeth found purchase, tearing away small chunks of slime, but Arin's acidic nature was already at work.

  [ -2 Mass ]

  The fox's struggles grew weaker. Its movements became sluggish as the acid burned through fur and flesh. Within thirty seconds, it stopped moving entirely.

  [ +15 Mass ]

  [ +10 Essence ]

  Arin reformed, pulling his mass back together and absorbing the last traces of his kill. The guilt was still there, a small weight in his consciousness, but it was accompanied by something else—satisfaction. He'd hunted successfully, had claimed his first real prey in the wild.

  Is this what predators feel? This mix of accomplishment and regret?

  A sound cut through his musings—a low growl, coming from the direction the fox had first appeared.

  Arin turned his vision and felt his core go cold.

  Three more foxes emerged from the undergrowth, their eyes fixed on him. These were larger than the one he'd killed, their fur darker, their postures aggressive.

  [ Forest Fox - Level 3 ]

  [ Forest Fox - Level 3 ]

  [ Forest Fox - Level 4 ]

  A pack. I killed one of their pack.

  The largest fox, the level four, took a step forward. Its lips pulled back in a snarl, revealing teeth that could easily tear through Arin's mass. The other two spread out, flanking him on either side.

  They're coordinating. Just like the rats did.

  Arin compressed his mass, making himself as small and dense as possible. The hollow where he'd rested was too far away to reach before they attacked. The nearest cover was a thick patch of ferns about fifteen feet to his left, but that would mean turning his back on one of the flanking foxes.

  Think. What would Levi do?

  The level four fox charged, and the decision was made for him.

  Arin didn't try to fight. Instead, he flattened his mass and rolled sideways, narrowly avoiding the snapping jaws. The fox's momentum carried it past him, and for a moment, Arin had a clear path toward a massive oak tree with low-hanging branches.

  He took it.

  Arin rolled faster than he'd ever moved before, his entire being focused on reaching that tree. Behind him, he could hear the foxes giving chase, their paws thundering against the forest floor.

  Ten feet. Five.

  Arin hit the base of the tree and immediately began to climb, flowing up the rough bark with the technique he'd practiced on the tower. The first fox reached the base just as Arin pulled his mass onto a branch about eight feet off the ground.

  The foxes circled below, their growls mixing into a chorus of frustration. The level four leaped, its jaws snapping at the branch, but Arin was just out of reach.

  They can't climb. Not like I can.

  Relief flooded through him, quickly followed by a realization—he was trapped. The foxes split up around the base of the tree. They showed no sign of leaving, and Arin couldn't stay in the tree forever. Eventually, he'd need to come down, and they seemed perfectly willing to wait.

  What do I do? I can't fight three of them at once. The level four alone is as strong as I am.

  Arin studied the foxes from his perch. They were agitated, pacing, but also watchful. This was personal for them—he'd killed one of their own, and they wanted revenge. Or maybe it was simpler than that. Maybe they just recognized him as a threat that needed to be eliminated.

  A memory surfaced, one of Levi talking to Liora during a break between classes. Arin had been in his jar on the desk, half-listening to their conversation about tactics.

  "The best fights are the ones you don't have," Levi had said. "If you can avoid a confrontation, avoid it. Save your strength for battles that matter."

  But how do I avoid this?

  Arin looked up at the branches above him. The oak was old, its limbs spreading wide and interlocking with the branches of neighboring trees. A network of wood and leaves stretched through the canopy, creating highways that must be used by squirrels and birds.

  Can I travel through the trees? Move from branch to branch until I'm far enough away that they lose interest?

  It was risky. If he fell, if he miscalculated a jump, he'd land right in the middle of the waiting foxes. But staying here wasn't an option either.

  Arin climbed higher, moving from branch to branch until he was nearly twenty feet off the ground. The foxes below became smaller, their growls quieter. At this height, a neighboring maple tree's branches were close enough to reach—perhaps four feet away, with nothing but empty air between.

  I can make it. I have to make it.

  Arin extended a tendril toward the maple branch, the same technique he'd used with the stalactites in the sewers. The tendril stretched, thinned, and finally made contact with the rough bark.

  He began to flow across the gap, his mass transferring through the thin connection. It was slower than climbing, more exposed, but the foxes below didn't seem to realize what he was doing. Their attention was still focused on the oak tree, on the branch where Arin had first stopped.

  Halfway across, a gust of wind shook both trees.

  Arin's tendril swayed, and for a terrifying moment, he thought it would snap. His mass, split between two trees, pulled in both directions. But the tendril held, and Arin continued his transfer, moving as quickly as he dared.

  Finally, all of his mass was on the maple branch. Arin paused, looking back at the oak tree and the three foxes that still circled its base.

  They haven't noticed yet.

  Arin continued moving, branch to branch, tree to tree, putting distance between himself and the hunting pack. After about ten minutes of careful navigation through the canopy, he looked back and could no longer see the foxes.

  I made it. I actually escaped.

  The relief was profound, but so was the lesson. The forest was dangerous. Everything here was a potential threat, and Arin was still weak, still learning. The tournament had taught him to fight, but survival in the wild was a different kind of education entirely.

  Arin found another tree hollow, this one high up in a gnarled pine, and settled inside to rest. Through the opening, he could see the forest stretching endlessly in all directions, and beyond it, barely visible through the trees, the distant walls of Vyrdan.

  I need to get stronger. Much stronger. And I need to learn how this system works, how to use these skill points, how to absorb abilities from what I consume.

  The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple. Night would come soon, and with it, new dangers. But for now, Arin was alive, was free, and was learning what it meant to be a predator in a world that didn't care about fairness or second chances.

  A world where the only rule that mattered was survival.