Shree's breath hitched as his eyes took in the devastating scene before him. The air smelled thick with blood and wet earth, a metallic tang lingering in the atmosphere.
The trees in a hundred-meter radius were either uprooted, split in half, or shredded to the point that they barely stood upright. Deep claw marks ran along the trunks, as if something massive had torn through them. The ground was uneven and cracked, with pools of blood soaking into the dirt like ink spilled on parchment.
The battlefield looked like it had been hit by a natural disaster—no, a battle between titans.
At the center of it all, an injured man lay slumped against the base of a tree, gripping a broken spear in his right hand and a snapped bow in his left. His once-sturdy armor was torn apart, revealing deep gashes across his arms, chest, and legs. Blood dripped from his wounds, pooling beneath him in a dark crimson puddle. His breathing was ragged, his chest rising and falling in uneven intervals.
And opposite him stood a monster.
The bear was unlike anything Shree had seen before. It wasn't as massive as the deer he had spotted by the lake earlier, but it still dwarfed any bear he had encountered back on Earth. Its black fur was soaked with blood—both its own and, most likely, the man's. Its claws were thick, curved like blades, and dug deep into the earth with each step it took. The beast's eyes were bloodshot, glowing with an eerie red hue as it glared at its wounded opponent.
Then, as if sensing another presence, the bear turned its head toward Shree.
A shiver ran down his spine as he locked eyes with the beast. It wasn't just an animal. It felt like something more. Something ancient.
("Huh? Another one? You puny humans just keep showing up, don't you?")
The beast let out a deep, guttural growl that shook the very air around it. Its powerful body tensed, muscles rippling beneath its thick fur. The ground beneath its claws cracked slightly as it prepared to move.
Shree felt his body instinctively tense, but before he could react, the injured man shifted slightly, his dull eyes regaining a flicker of life.
The moment he saw Shree, his expression changed completely.
First, shock. Then, disbelief. And then—pure, unfiltered relief.
His lips trembled as if he wanted to say something, but his body was too weak to move. His chest heaved, and with great effort, he let out a shout in a language Shree didn't recognize.
"Run!"
Shree's brows furrowed.
He didn't understand the words. But he didn't need to. The meaning was clear.
The man was telling him to escape.
"Chat," Shree whispered in his mind, his voice uncertain. "Did you hear that? He's speaking another language."
Chat's voice responded instantly, tinged with curiosity.
["Yeah, it's different from anything spoken on Earth. Looks like this world has its own languages."]
Shree's thoughts raced. He had long suspected this would be the case, but hearing it firsthand was a different experience. He wanted to communicate, to ask the man what had happened, to confirm that he wasn't alone in this world.
But now wasn't the time for questions.
The man was still struggling to speak, his face contorted with frustration and desperation. He tried again, louder this time.
"Run! Away!"
His voice cracked from exhaustion, but his meaning couldn't have been clearer.
Shree clenched his fists. Run away?
That was the last thing he wanted to do.
"Chat…" he murmured. "What do you think?"
["I think he wants you to get the hell out of here."]
"I know that, you idiot. But…"
["But you're too stubborn to listen? Yeah, I figured. You're staring at a scene straight out of a war movie, and instead of leaving, you're thinking of getting involved. Genius move."]
Shree took a deep breath, his heartbeat steadying. He knew Chat was right. Logically, the best move was to retreat.
But how could he?
He had spent weeks alone in this world. No humans. No civilization. Just the forest, the cave, and his own thoughts. And now, the first person he encountered was this—a dying warrior who had risked everything to fight this beast.
If he ran now, would he ever be able to forgive himself?
No.
The bear suddenly let out another deafening roar, snapping Shree out of his thoughts.
("What's this? Why is this tiny human standing around like an idiot? Does he not realize who I am?")
The beast's eyes burned with fury as it turned its full attention toward Shree. Its heavy paws crushed the ground beneath them, and it let out a low, menacing growl.
The injured man, seeing this, let out another desperate shout. He used the last of his strength to push himself up, grabbing his broken spear like a lifeline.
Shree could feel what he was trying to say.
Go! Leave! I'll hold it off!
The man's legs trembled, but he forced himself to move. Blood dripped down his arms as he limped forward, facing the bear head-on. His breathing was heavy, but his eyes were resolute.
It was clear.
He was going to fight, even if it killed him.
Shree's jaw tightened.
"Chat."
["Yeah?"]
"Do you think I can win?"
A brief silence.
["…Honestly? I have no idea. But you're going to do it anyway, aren't you?"]
Shree exhaled slowly.
Then, without hesitation—
He moved.
The ground cracked beneath his feet as he pushed off, launching himself forward at full speed. His body blurred, his senses sharpening as he charged straight toward the bear.
The injured man's eyes widened in shock.
The bear, too, seemed momentarily stunned.
("Hah? He's charging at me?! This one's crazy!")
Shree didn't care.
He didn't care about the danger.
He didn't care about the odds.
All he knew was this—
The first human he had met in this world had risked his life to protect a stranger.
And there was no way in hell Shree was going to let him die alone.
As the bear roared once more, baring its bloodstained fangs—
Shree roared back.
And then—
The battle began.
(End of Chapter)