I started walking.
The forest was exactly what I expected from the game — dark, damp, and full of things that wanted to kill me.
The trees rose above me like ancient giants, their branches weaving together so tightly that I could barely see the sky, and the only light came from patches of glowing moss that clung to the bark like sickly green fire.
The air smelled of earth and decay, thick enough to taste, and somewhere in the distance, a monster roared.
I kept my hand on Tempest's hilt and my eyes scanning the shadows between the trees. The bracer on my wrist showed nothing but a countdown and the terrain — forests, rivers, mountains, caves. No markers for monsters.
No markers for other candidates. No helpful little dots telling me where to go or what to avoid. Just me and the wilderness and seven days of survival.
Six days, twenty-three hours, and forty-two minutes left, I thought, glancing at the countdown. Plenty of time. No need to rush.
