Kiran, still pressed tightly against Adam, felt a wave of comfort and relief wash over him. These three days spent alone on this unknown world had been a true ordeal for the Neurorian. He slowly loosened his embrace and took a step back to look at his friend, as if to make sure this wasn’t a hallucination born from exhaustion or pain. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks.

  “By all the stars… thank you. I’m so relieved to see you again… to know you survived, my friend. I really thought it was all over.”

  “Don’t worry, Kiran. We’re leaving this world. Hell is behind us.”

  Seyra, standing slightly back, watched the scene with a gentle and sincere expression. A warm smile curved her lips as she finally stepped forward, entering Kiran’s field of vision — he hadn’t noticed her yet.

  The feline turned his head toward her, surprised, one ear raised and eyes narrowed with curiosity.

  “Who’s that? There are other people here?” he asked, intrigued.

  “Kiran, this is Seyra. She helped me find you… and she has a ship. She’s a survivor of this world too.”

  “Nice to meet you, Kiran. I’ve heard a lot about you,” she said, offering a friendly hand.

  She paused, her gaze falling on the Neurorian’s unsteady posture as he struggled to remain standing.

  “Are you sure you’re okay? You can barely stay on your feet…”

  “I’m fine, don’t worry… just a little shaken.”

  At that moment, a grimace of pain twisted Kiran’s face. He stepped back awkwardly and suddenly collapsed to the ground, clutching his right leg with a rough groan.

  “Kiran!” Adam shouted, his voice filled with shock and concern as he saw his friend fall.

  “Don’t worry, you two… it’s nothing… haha… just a small scratch,” Kiran tried to joke nervously.

  But neither Adam nor Seyra laughed. They had already rushed to his side. Adam immediately knelt down, brows furrowed, anxiety clearly visible in his eyes.

  Kiran’s body told the story of his days of wandering and survival. Cuts, deep bruises, claw marks, and abrasions striped his skin. His clothes, in tatters, were smeared with mud, soaked by the forest’s constant dampness, clinging to his body with dark stains of dried blood. Water and grime had mixed with his wounds, painting a troubling picture of silent suffering.

  But it was his right leg that froze Adam in place.

  A gaping wound ran from the front of his thigh down to his shin — a massive, irregular claw mark, likely inflicted by a creature with monstrous talons. Exposed flesh revealed swollen, reddened tissue, and a thin stream of blood mixed with thick lymph still seeped from it intermittently.

  “Shit…” Adam whispered, pale.

  Beside him, Seyra bit her lip, visibly shaken.

  “We can’t leave that like this,” she murmured. “If we do nothing, it’ll get worse.”

  Kiran tried to downplay it, forcing a smile.

  “You’re exaggerating… I’ve had worse, I swear…”

  But his voice broke with pain as he tried to move his leg. He wasn’t able to walk. And he knew it.

  “In your ship, do you have anything to treat this?” Adam asked, eyes fixed on the wound.

  “Yes… probably one or two first aid kits. But… that won’t be enough,” Seyra paused. “He’d need a specialist. This kind of injury can go bad very quickly if not treated properly.”

  “And your ship — is it far?” Adam insisted.

  “A good day’s walk… under normal circumstances.”

  “Well, I’d love to, but in my condition… crossing that damn forest won’t be easy. And with those monsters roaming around, it’s not exactly a peaceful stroll,” Kiran grumbled, trying to mask his pain with humor.

  Adam placed a reassuring hand on his friend’s shoulder.

  “Don’t worry, my friend. We’ll make it out. Rest for now — that’s all I’m asking.”

  Still kneeling nearby, Seyra watched attentively before turning to Kiran.

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  “But what exactly happened to you?”

  Kiran sighed tiredly, lowered his eyes, and nodded.

  “Yeah… it’s a long story. But… we’ve got the whole night, right?”

  “Everything happened so fast…” Kiran began, his deep voice echoing through the cave.

  The ship had split in two under the immense pressure of atmospheric descent. The sound of tearing metal, twisted panels, and bursts of light swallowed the bridge. Still strapped into his seat, Kiran had only a fraction of a second to see Adam disappear into chaos as the hull ruptured.

  Vibrations shook the structure as if a titanic hand were trying to crush it. Torn panels flew everywhere, entire sections of ceiling collapsed, turning the room into a hell of metal and fire. The Neurorian owed his survival solely to the harness that pinned him to his seat while everything around him disintegrated.

  The ship plowed into the ground, shattering rocks and trees in an unstoppable torrent of force. An endless descent… until impact. A brutal, absolute collision. A metallic scream — the dying cry of a machine… then nothing. No sound. No vibration. A deathly silence.

  The wreck froze.

  Everything went black.

  Kiran lost consciousness in one final jolt, swallowed by oblivion.

  “I don’t know how long I was out… minutes? Hours? No idea,” he continued, staring into nothing. “What I remember is waking up.”

  Pain escaped his throat in a groan. A dry, burning cough. He opened his eyes with effort, darkness still surrounding him. The bridge was nothing more than a shapeless mass of shadows and debris pierced by faint threads of pale light filtering through cracks.

  The air was unbreathable. The smell of damp earth mingled with heated metal, melted wiring, and combustion residue — an acrid, suffocating mixture.

  “And that’s when I realized I was still alive… but that hell was only beginning,” he finished quietly.

  A sharp headache stabbed his temples like blades. Each pulse thundered through his skull. Groaning, Kiran fumbled with his harness until he freed himself and collapsed to his knees, legs weak and head heavy.

  Blindly feeling around, his palms slid across twisted surfaces and torn cables. His vision blurred, mind foggy, barely aware he had survived.

  But he was alive.

  And alone.

  It took minutes to gather himself. His breathing was ragged, heart racing, thoughts tangled. Slowly, he pushed himself up — and felt not metal beneath his hands.

  Earth.

  Damp earth.

  Confused, he ran his fingers through the mud coating the cockpit floor. It made no sense. Mud inside the cockpit.

  He staggered to the emergency locker and grabbed a flashlight. The beam pierced the darkness — and froze him.

  The forward hull was gone. The observation bay vanished.

  In its place, earth, rock, and uprooted roots had flooded the cockpit like an organic landslide. The cockpit had become a buried tomb. Twisted panels protruded from the mass like bones, cables hanging like torn veins.

  A cold realization struck him. The crash had been worse than imagined. The ship’s nose had been swallowed by the ground. They hadn’t just fallen — they had slammed into the planet like a comet.

  Kiran stood slowly, breath short, flashlight trembling over the ruins of a world that should have been his grave.

  Gasping, he staggered to the door and forced it open. With a painful screech, it gave way, revealing a dark corridor. Fresh, damp air touched his face. He inhaled deeply — relief. But he needed to escape. Driven by primal instinct, he stumbled forward.

  At last, gray light. He stepped outside.

  And stopped.

  Before him lay devastation mixed with wild beauty: twisted wreckage cutting through an endless forest. Uprooted trees, mud, and scattered metal pieces littered the ground like the organs of a fallen giant.

  And rain.

  It fell endlessly, soaking his fur, clinging to his clothes. Looking up at the overcast sky, Kiran felt silent gratitude. This brutal world gave him something Oberon never had — the feeling of breathing freely.

  Then anxiety returned. Adam. He had to find him.

  Despite his battered state — torn clothes, bruises, bleeding wounds — he refused to give up.

  He returned to the wreck and scavenged supplies: a torn backpack, a battered purification flask, an emergency lighter, a rusted metal baseball bat, and finally a kitchen knife he strapped to his belt.

  Now… I’m coming for you, Adam.

  Limping into the jungle, Kiran moved blindly, guided only by hope. Silence hung heavy in the forest. His senses were on edge, pain radiating through his body, yet he pressed on.

  Night fell quickly.

  Hungry, exhausted, he searched for shelter but found none. So he climbed a massive tree — fell — then felt something watching him.

  Adrenaline surged. He climbed again and reached a branch, pressing against the trunk, breath trembling.

  Below, heavy footsteps and guttural breathing echoed.

  He held his breath.

  This night would be a trial. A battle against fear, pain, and exhaustion. He must not move. Not panic.

  Trying to sleep, he curled up, but the forest sounds kept him awake. Every crack and rustle felt like a threat. Was it the same creature? Was he hunted?

  Impossible to know.

  All he could do was wait.

  Survive the night.

  What trials do you think he had to face?