[THOUGHTS]

  The dirt doesn’t feel like dirt anymore. Just feels like… skin. Mine.

  Been weeks now. Or longer.

  The jungle don’t hiss at me no more. It just watches. Like it’s waiting.

  Jarrell moves in silence, one hand wrapped tight around a makeshift walking stick. His bark-wrapped sandals slap soft against the overgrown trail — more foot than shoe now. The satchel he found? Molded to his side. Half tool bag, half baby blanket.

  He stops under a crooked root arch — breathing light.

  [THOUGHTS]

  Still not dead. Still not home.

  But I ain’t dreaming either.

  He stares at the canopy, eyes squinting against the blue slice of sky.

  [SPEAKS]

  “…Think… reincarnate. Thought… only happen… to Japanese.”

  A dry grunt of laughter. He doesn’t smile. Keeps walking.

  ---

  A distant *crack*. Then *boom*.

  He stops.

  [THOUGHTS]

  That ain’t thunder. That’s fighting.

  Another flash. Orange-red. Heat shimmer. A shadow moves through the trees — big. Real big.

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  Jarrell crouches low and creeps forward through the fern wall.

  And sees it.

  Two monsters. Wild. Raw.

  [THOUGHTS]

  One fire. One crystal.

  The first: gorilla-lion, its mane spitting sparks, mouth glowing.

  The second: lizard-thing plated in purple stone. When it growls, shards lift off its back like glass blades.

  They crash.

  *BOOM.*

  The fire beast breathes a jet — wide and violent. The crystal one tanks it, then launches spikes like a living ballista.

  Jarrell just watches.

  [THOUGHTS]

  They using magic… like it’s nothing.

  This ain’t no storybook. This is instinct.

  Then—*FLASH.*

  His vision fractures.

  Time slows. His body tenses.

  He sees it: the fire, the core, the rhythm. The shard-lift, the mana line, the spine echo.

  Something inside… *copies it.*

  Not consciously. Not willingly. It just happens.

  His chest hums.

  ---

  The beasts freeze mid-clash.

  Their heads snap toward the trees.

  They see him.

  They charge.

  [SPEAKS]

  “Fire. Stone. Burn… bleed.”

  His arms lift on their own.

  Fingers spread. Throat dry. No chant. No training.

  Just release.

  [THOUGHTS]

  What am I doing?

  He shouts:

  [SPEAKS]

  “VELA–SAEL–TEKK–RAHHH!!”

  BOOOOOOM.

  A cyclone of fire-laced crystal erupts in all directions — not just forward. A full dome blast.

  Trees crack. Ground scorches. The beasts? Gone. Mist and dust where they once stood.

  Everything falls still.

  Even the insects go silent.

  ---

  Jarrell drops to his knees, trembling. His hands shake. Blood leaks from his nose.

  [THOUGHTS]

  That wasn’t spellcasting. That was… something else.

  He stares at his hands. Faint gold pulse flickers beneath the skin.

  [SPEAKS]

  “…Not… me.”

  [THOUGHTS]

  Except it was.

  He laughs once — bitter and hollow.

  Then staggers back to his feet, slipping into the bush again.

  The jungle breathes with him now.

  And something inside’s still watching.