Murphy's Law

"Gah!?"

You regain your consciousness half a minute after the grand knockout, reclaiming your balance as the very white cube appears in your view.

The whole situation can actually be handled more peacefully as your adversary shows a hint of actually 'not trying to exude any aggressions intentionally' and there is a fair chance that the skull crushing headbutt is actually just a way for the mysterious creature to communicate, but you didn't actually think, so does your fight-or-flight response too.

You reach for your microgun and send away the mini rocket into the dangerous creature, hoping that it will be eradicated.

The explosion scatters the soil and some of nature's veneer, waiting for the dust to settle.

"Ah shite."

The creature becomes bigger, as the middle of its body reveals an enormous set of sharp teeth ready to grind any organic matter. Turns out, the fight within the 'fight or flight' didn't really exist in the first place.

The exterior of the mouth expands like a growing plant. Again, revealing the meaty texture beneath the gritty teeth.

Seconds later, the white abomination unleashes an obnoxious screech.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAA!?" After all the action you took, you're now ready to commence the 'flight' on full throttle.

Even though it has only been a few days in this world, you're experiencing the vivid nostalgia of running away on top of sands and a mortal killer danger from behind.

Sacre Bleu, mourns on tour with no guide to explore the forest unwillingly, dashing in and out through the plants and rocks like a stuntman galloping with a tail between their legs. With the horrid afterimage of the cube monster in mind, you run an excruciating marathon with no specific direction inside this nature challenging course filled with nature razor, slinking and dipping in a zigzag pattern unprofessionally.

After the jolt of rush dissipates, you notice that there is no sign of the monster chasing you.

All is fine and dandy now. The slight hint of smile on your face is the sign of temporary relief and unbelieving of what in the world is happening.

The good news is—your gothic lolita set is surprisingly sturdier and flexible.

But remember what Chronos said about 'Killer Dusk', the very thing visibly unhinged under the red sky with sharp bloody teeth gazing down at the fumbling lost sheep within the forest. Maybe running around with no plans in mind was a tremendously bad idea after all.

And another good news is—your feelings about the precarious trek on the forest roundabout proves to be a terrible action you made! Congratulations! You're on your way to become a survival master!

Cracks, jolt, and a heavy thud.

A gigantic, garrulous, and extraterrestrial horror has been intrigued by your rash action within the forest. You immediately seek for any possible solution and try to bet your chance on hiding inside a small hollow cave within the foot of a nearby tree. The giant backpack can't fit through the hole so you leave it outside and pray that the obvious indication won't pique the interest of the monstrosity to even bother finding out what is inside this bad hiding spot of yours.

No sounds have been made, except something unbelievably big moving through the forest, interacting with the leaves and bark of every tree.

A sharp joint piercing in and out of the tree you're dwelling, it quakes your soul down to its core.

If god exists, there might be a slight chance that you will convert your belief upon any celestial being you can imagine to actually exist in this bizarre world.

Sweats running down, suffocating the lungs and the heart. One, two, three, four, five, six—

Seven.

Eight.

Nine.

Before you know it, your voiceless counting has reached 7246 seconds. Two hours, forty-six seconds, and an almost stopping rhythm from your breathing organ.

In the end, you couldn't even muster any courage to chant the magic spell that Chronos gave you, as if the scythe of the grim reaper is sealing your lips with the end of its blade.

"Is it gone yet?"

Taking the first galumph step within the cave, you gulp down the pent up saliva into your throat.

Just like a madman surviving the bombing on the trench, you let out a cynical laugh before reality hits you like a hammer on the anvil, "I need to save up my ammunition for Chronos later."

Analyzing the outside, your backpack is surprisingly still in shape with no change in any kinds of ways. Checking the exterior just to make sure to see if there is any damage, your expectations satisfy you with the results.

"I hope I can detect the marks I placed from here."

You pick up a nearby stick to use it as the magic circuit catalyst for a frequency receiver. As the marking you placed on the trees before is actually a low wavelength sender combined with a long distance trigger through a specific frequency. So by only making the 'switch' contraption for the trigger of the said frequency, you can feel the distance and the exact location of all the marks you deployed.

"A success!"

The wooden stick then cripples afterward into a haze of dust blown into the sky. This is why a spell caster needs a catalyst tool for the evocation enhanced for continuous physical stress made by the combusting magic contraption.

46 meters from the nearest marks, and it was actually the third of the closest markings to the campsite that Chronos currently relaxes, chewing the jerkies on a hammock with no burden in mind.

"Thinking about it, I need to restock my ammo."

Regrettably, you only came into the hunt with eight ammunition within the microgun as you thought that it would be something like a deer hunting session. A hunt is all about precision and patience but considering that your weapon doesn't need actual precision to annihilate something, you believed you could just do a one KO move on everything you would encounter—or so you thought.

"'Crushing B-rank Calamity's armor', my ass."

The small cube-like monster might actually be an S-rank, as there is no other explanation left to be argued.

Without further ado, you march into the campsite with mixed feelings. Appallingly, there is no annoying pink-head asshole greeting you out of sadistic behavior.

The place is trashed, there are three bipedal dinosaur-like creatures with big fangs, piercing their red gaze at you with visible discontent.

Your mind is in chaos, you couldn't analyze the situation properly. Only the images of many unwanted events come into mind.

Sinking, chirps, chirps, the cotton of your coffin. Your heart is sinking deep, deep, within the void.