A dim twilight prevailed at the base of the cliff, pierced only by thin shards of light filtering through the canopy of giant trees. Sounds were the only language this place spoke: the distant hoot of an owl tearing the silence, the rustle of leaves hinting at mysterious movements, and the incessant hum of a thousand species of insects.
Harten stood there, battling the dizziness of the fall, contemplating the desolate place where Joe had cast him from the "cliff of hope." "What should I do now?" he asked in a shaky voice, before his instinct answered him harshly: "The basics, you fool! Water... food... shelter... or you'll be dead before dawn."
He began to walk cautiously, trying to ignore the agony of his shattered body. In his mind, Joe's final gaze echoed—that resolute, terrifying look he had given him. "Joe doesn't hate me..." he repeated to himself like a mantra, "and he doesn't strike me for pleasure... he is smelting me to become solid... for my own sake."
His train of thought was severed by the faint murmur of water. He followed the sound eagerly to find a small stream trickling between the rocks. He reached out and scooped a handful of water that appeared murky and foul. "Is this safe to drink?" he wondered with the instinct of fear, but his thirst was stronger. He tried to drink, but spat it out immediately, choking on its moldy, wretched taste that revolted his soul. "Damn it! What is this filth?" he screamed, breathing heavily, feeling betrayed by the first source of hope he had found.
He went searching for food and found clusters of mushrooms growing at the base of a damp tree. He thought for a second: "Is it poisonous?" But his hunger shattered the barrier of caution. He devoured a small piece, and before long, he began to vomit violently, screaming from a sharp pain that tore through his stomach. Tears streamed from his eyes—not from crying, but from the sheer intensity of the muscular spasms.
Amidst his pain and retching, thoughts began to lash his mind like whips: "Why is this place so desolate? Why is everything here trying to kill me? Why is man so weak?" The words repeated in his head like the buzzing of bees and did not stop until the blood froze in his veins... A massive serpent was coiled directly in front of him.
An absolute silence fell. Harten froze in place, his eyes locked onto the cold eyes of the snake. Predator and prey in an inevitable confrontation. The difference in size did not matter, for Harten now realized that in this place, even the simplest things were trying to kill you.
The snake struck with lightning speed, but Harten remained frozen, paralyzed by the "Level One" terror Joe had taught him. In that moment, he heard the old voice of "Ahmed" whispering in his head, mocking him: "Do you see? Do you know now? You should never have come down here... because you are weak... and you will die here!"
Harten went silent for a single second—a second in which all his pain and humiliations converged. Then, he answered the inner voice with power: "Why is man weak?" Then, in a loud, clear voice that echoed at the base of the cliff: "I am not a man... I am the monster that eats monsters!"
Ahmed's voice vanished completely. For the first time, Harten felt a strange mental clarity. He focused his eyes on the serpent, stepped forward, and gripped a heavy, sharp stone from the ground. He looked at the snake with a face devoid of any trace of fear and said coldly: "Do you want to kill me?"
Then, his expression shifted suddenly into a terrifying laugh—a laugh born from the womb of madness and survival. He said: "Because I want to eat you!"