The boar screamed as the spear punched through its eye.
Hot blood hit my face. A second later, I hit the ground hard, shoulder-first, rolled, mud and leaf and bone flying.
The spear snapped in half. The beast screamed louder.
Thrashing, kicking, skull dragging across the earth, trying to shake the pain off.
I got up fast. Couldn't stop. If I stopped, I died.
My ribs cracked. Blood filled my mouth. One leg didn't want to move right.
But I moved anyway. No choice.
The boar stumbled sideways. Blind on one side, but still too strong. It slammed into a tree, cracked the trunk like dry bone. Bark rained down.
I screamed again, a sharp, cracking sound. Then I leapt, landed on its back.
My knife. Jagged bone, wrapped in vine. Went deep into its neck.
Again.
Again.
Six times.
It bucked. I held on.
It spun, slammed its back into a rock. I felt my spine twist. Pain like lightning. I didn't let go.
No choice.
The knife hit something soft.
The boar went still.
Blood ran hot down its side. Steam rose in the night.
Then it collapsed.
And me with it.
I crawled away. Every bone in me screaming. My lungs felt like they were leaking. My vision blurred. My brain boiling in pain.
I sat under a tree, heart pounding. Breath shallow. Felt blood dripping from my ears.
I was going to die. Not fast.
Slow. Hours, maybe.
I looked at the dead boar.
Dead.
Finally dead.
I grinned.
Then I pulled the mushroom from the pouch on my hip. The red one with the yellow flecks. The one that stops your heart before the pain gets bad.
First friend I ever made. First thing to make death a little easier.
Swallowed it dry.
The world slipped.
I smiled.
Dark.
Light.
The sun edged the eastern horizon.
I was back.
I was whole again.
Same blood. Same body. Same fire in my chest.
And the boar was still dead.
Dead!
I grinned. Wider this time.
Then I heard the screeching.
Monkeys.
Little bastards.
Dozens of them, swarming the corpse, trying to pull meat from its sides, flinging bones, hooting like idiots. Piss and shit everywhere. Fuckers.
I roared.
They scattered.
Threw fruit at me from the trees. One hit my shoulder. Another pissed from above.
I snarled and chased them off with a burning branch.
Took me half the day to drag the carcass back to my den. A cave under a crooked tree, hidden by vines, bones marking the entrance.
Fire. Always have a fire.
I worked fast.
Cut the meat. Smoked what I could. Ate until my gut hurt.
Smiled again.
Skinned it. Made strips for rope. Tools. Stitched a belt. A pouch. Reinforced my sandals.
The skull, I cleaned with fire. Scraped the gore. Polished the bone with sand and bark.
Took the tusks. Made them smooth. Sharpened the tips. Hung them from vines.
By nightfall, I had a headdress.
My first.
Bone helmet. Tusks curved like horns. Fit my face like a god of death.
I smiled.
The fire roared high.
I danced.
Screamed and laughed. Painted blood on my chest. My arms. My face.
I danced like the panthers. Stalked like the hawks. Struck like the snakes.
For the first time in months. Maybe ever. I felt joy.
Victory.
Strength.
I saw shadows in the trees.
Watching.
Didn't care.
Let them watch.
I'd kill them too.
I was becoming something else.
And that night, as I lay by the fire, watching the stars blink behind the leaves, I made my first rule.
Kill or be killed.
Simple. True.
Carved it into stone. Into my brain. Into my being.
It was me now. Kill or be killed.
And I always…
Choose...
Kill.
Two years passed…
I got stronger.
Faster.
Smarter.
I made better weapons. Better traps. Learned how to poison my blades. How to listen to the wind. How to smell blood before I saw it.
The jungle taught me things. But I taught myself more.
And I wasn't alone anymore.
Something was hunting me.
Not the baboons. Not the pigs. Not the snakes.
Something else.
I never saw it. Not really.
Sometimes, I'd sleep and wake up bleeding. Sometimes, I'd hear breathing close by… too close. But see nothing.
At first, I thought I was going mad.
But I started watching.
Learning.
I found pawprints that didn't match any animal I knew. Deep. Precise.
Black fur. Caught on branches.
Claw marks on trees two men tall.
Eyes. Golden. Floating in the dark.
It moved without sound. Sometimes, I'd see the light bend, shimmer, like water in air. Like the heat above fire.
And then nothing.
But it was real.
And it hunted me.
I named it Ghostclaw.
I made traps. It never triggered them.
I set bait. It never took it.
So I stopped trying to fight.
And started to follow.
Tracked it for days. Slept in the trees. Ate leaves, bark, bugs. Drank from moss.
Watched it.
Studied it.
Ghostclaw only hunted at night. Always silent. Always precise.
It played with prey. Never struck first. It liked fear.
It was smart. Smarter than any predator I'd faced.
Which meant I needed a second rule.
Understand your enemy. Don't let them understand you.
Ghostclaw carved it into me.
I covered my scent with charcoal and mud. Moved like it did. Waited until it didn't know I was watching.
Until one night. I found it resting.
A full belly. Its kill still warm nearby.
It slept curled on a stone, almost invisible in the moonlight.
I didn't hesitate.
I moved like a shadow. No sound. No smell.
Ghosted up to him like a whisper.
The knife slid deep into its ribs.
It screamed. High and sharp, like metal tearing.
Then I wrapped my arms around its neck and drove the bone dagger through its eye.
It kicked.
Then I slit its neck.
It clawed.
Pulled its throat tight.
It stilled.
Dead.
I stared at its body.
Black fur like liquid shadow. Eyes that still glowed, even in death.
I breathed heavy.
Then… the pain came.
My body convulsed.
Muscles clenched. Bones cracked. I fell to my knees, shaking.
My chest throbbed. A light. Deep inside me.
Like wildfire flaring.
Like a drumbeat.
Like something ancient waking up.
I screamed.
Fire behind my eyes. My blood buzzed. My vision blurred.
But not from pain.
From clarity.
I saw everything. The smallest movements. Every leaf, every shadow, every ripple in the dark.
I could see.
And I knew what to do.
I tore the Ghostclaw's chest open. Pulled out its heart.
Still warm.
Devoured it raw.
Blood coated my lips. It tasted bitter. Wild. Alive.
Powerful.
My eyes burned.
Then they glowed.
Gold, like the beast's.
I saw my reflection in the creek water.
And I laughed.
Long.
Loud.
Mad.
I felt power.
Not just strength.
Something else. Something… divine.
I didn't understand it yet. But I would.
And so, I made my third rule:
Find power. Devour it.
All rules serve the first.
Kill. Or be killed.