The little monster shuffled through the familiar forest, the trees looming like silent, judgmental watchers. Hunger gnawed at its belly. Always, upon each respawn, the first sensation, more potent than the lingering dread, more immediate than the crushing sadness, was the gnawing emptiness. It gripped its stick, small hands tightening around the rough wood. Its senses, honed by countless deaths, were on high alert.

A thought, unwelcome and persistent, clawed its way into its mind. There was no escape from this repeating cycle. No relief. This *was* its existence. And it didn't know how to break it. But it had to fight. No more simply dying, respawning, and then dying again, over and over. The other things, the monsters, for reasons it could not comprehend, were the cause of the agony. It had been pierced, frozen, devoured, crushed. The world, once seemingly beautiful, now seemed to shift into one of shadows and horror. Perhaps… the only way to survive was to inflict that same pain. To lash out. To hurt back.

The idea churned within it, a bitter, poisonous fruit in its gut. It felt wrong, terribly wrong, like a jagged shard of ice piercing its heart. But a sense of inevitability, a cold, hard logic, had taken root. It recalled how, trapped in the coils of a vine monster, it had bitten into the very thing that held it captive. The pain had forced the monster to release its hold. Yes. To inflict pain meant freedom. To inflict pain meant survival. To not suffer any longer, it had to cause the same suffering. This was what it *had* to do. A terrible burden, a lonely truth.

It exhaled, a sound that seemed to catch in its throat. A small, silent sigh. It took a step, then another, the little monster continued to walk.

Suddenly, from the concealing shadows of the bushes, something familiar emerged. Something that stirred a visceral disgust within its small gut. Something that slithered onto the forest floor. The white, eyeless monster, the Slither. The little monster's teeth clenched, a silent, animalistic snarl. It gripped the wood with both hands, its skin taut, as if stretched to its limit. Tremors, fine and relentless, shook its hands, and legs as well. This was the monster that had ended its life once before. The agony of that death. The piercing pain, the sickening slide down its throat. But this one… this one was smaller. Yet its teeth, its serpentine resemblance, the very air around it, screamed of threat.

A shudder, a violent tremor of fear, ripped through its body. The Slither shrieked, a high-pitched, predatory sound, and launched itself forward.

The little monster's eyes widened in terror. A small, involuntary groan escaped its lips, a tiny, high-pitched sound. As the serpentine monster lunged, the little monster lashed out with a swift strike, striking the Slither's head with a brutal blow. The wood connected with a sickening thwack, the force of the impact sending the Slither reeling backward. It let out a pained shriek as it struck the forest floor.

The little monster, surprised by its own power, barely had time to process the victory. If the Slither rose again, if it lunged for it again, it would be devoured. This was its chance. The little monster yelped, a desperate sound torn from its throat, and swung the wood once more.

The wood slammed into the Slither's head again, another pained shriek erupting from the creature. The little monster lifted the wood, its small arms trembling, and brought it down once more, connecting with the monster's head. The Slither, in response, lashed out with its tail, striking the little monster's cheek, sending it stumbling backward and off balance.

It fell, sprawling onto the forest floor. As it scrambled to its feet, it saw the Slither slithering towards it, its jaws agape, a silent promise of devouring hunger. But then, the little monster saw the wood. The wood was broken. It didn't know when. It didn't know how. But the broken ends were jagged, sharp, and even tiny splinters jutted outwards, ready.

The Slither lunged, its mouth opening to reveal rows of needle-sharp teeth. With a grunt of effort, the little monster shoved the broken wood directly into the Slither's maw. The wood pierced through the creature's head, a terrible scream of agony tearing from its throat, its body writhing in a violent, frantic dance.

The little monster, teeth still clenched, clung to the wood, and drove it further into the Slither's head, slamming the broken end into the ground, further impaling the monster. Blood gushed from the wound, and the Slither's twisting, turning movements grew weaker, its shrieks growing silent. And then, it stopped. The monster was dead.

The little monster, its hands released the wood, stumbled back and fell onto its butt, a long, drawn-out sigh escaping its lips, its mouth forming an O. As it breathed, a wave of relief washed over it. It had killed. It had ended this monster, right before it. The body was there, dead, lifeless. So this is what it felt like. It felt relieving, but it didn't feel good.

Suddenly, its stomach gave a loud rumble, shaking its small frame with exaggerated force. The little monster looked down, then back at the Slither's still form. It was dead. A thought sparked in its small mind. *Could I…?* It had eaten before. Tree bark, which tasted like dirt. Leaves, which offered little satisfaction beyond a temporary fullness.

The little monster groaned, a low sound of effort, and pushed itself upright. It stood swaying slightly, a small, green silhouette against the dappled forest floor. It stared at the Slither's still form. This was the monster. The one that had sought to end its existence just moments ago. A question, unspoken and unbidden, flickered within its small mind. *Was it… okay, to eat something that had been alive?*

Hesitantly, it shuffled closer. It bent, and with a grunt of exertion, hoisted the Slither's limp body. The weight surprised it. Then, with a decisive movement, it sunk its teeth deep into the cream-white flesh. A tearing sound, a ripping of muscle and sinew. A chunk of meat came free, revealing a dark, crimson interior. It chewed. The taste was a shock, a jolt of acrid, sour, and salty… like biting into a festering wound.

It swallowed, quickly, and dropped the remains, a silent, guttural expulsion of disgust. It spat out a bit of the meat, a revolted grimace twisting its features. The taste was wrong. It felt wrong. Yet, the hollow ache in its belly remained. It scanned its surroundings, not for witnesses, but for a distraction, for any other source of sustenance. The leaves were better, though still a torment to the tastebuds.

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With a surge of resolve, it picked the Slither up again, its small hands trembling. It bit into it, once more, tearing away another chunk of meat, chewing quickly. Swallowing. Biting and swallowing, biting and swallowing, a desperate cycle. It wanted only to be done with this… this abhorrent act.

As it finished with eating the remains of the Slither, it let the body drop to the forest floor. A wet thud echoed in the sudden quiet. It wiped the crimson blood from its mouth, a grimace twisting its face. Finally, it was done. It was full. It looked at the remnants of the Slither. At the broken wood still embedded in the monster's skull. The thing… it was sharp. Sharp enough to pierce. Sharp enough to kill.

And with that, the Slither could no longer harm it. The confirmation solidified its belief. It had to fight back. It had to kill, or be killed. It remembered the sharp spear wielded by other monsters. It remembered being killed by the human, with something sharp. It didn't know what that was, but it knew, now. It had to make its own sharp weapon The stick had broken, but the broken ends… they had been sharp enough. Sharp enough to kill. How? How to make another? Break another stick?

It began to move, its small feet crunching on fallen leaves, a frantic energy now driving its search. It located a small tree, its brown trunk gnarled and thick. The branches sprouted low to the ground, some growing haphazardly, unlike the others that reached towards the sky. It latched its small hand onto a branch, and pulled.

The branch bent, a stubborn, unyielding curve. The little monster groaned, a sound of exertion that seemed to echo the strain of the branch itself. Its teeth clenched so hard its jaw ached, every muscle in its small arms screaming in protest. It squeezed its eyes shut, focusing all its energy, all its will on the task. It tugged with everything it had, pulling, pulling, pulling. The branch groaned in response, a creaking protest, but remained unbroken.

The branch slipped from its grasp, the sudden release sending the little monster reeling backward. It swung in a wide arc, a blur of green and brown, and then snapped back, as if repelled by an invisible force. It struck the little monster squarely in the stomach. A harsh, breath-stealing impact. It crumpled, a small cry escaping its lips, collapsing onto the grassy forest floor. Agony blossomed in its belly, a searing pain that rolled and twisted.

It writhed, flopping from side to side, gasping. After a moment, it groaned and struggled upright, its hand clutched protectively over its abdomen. Tiny droplets, tears of frustration and pain, threatened to spill from the corners of its eyes, but it blinked them back.

Then, it heard it. The telltale sound of footsteps, small and quick, something brushing against the trees. *Stab, stab, stab…* Fear, sharp and immediate, pierced through the pain. It scrambled to its feet and ran, its small legs pumping. It saw the thick, protective embrace of some bushes, and plunged into them, ignoring the stinging bite of the twigs against its skin.

The branches tore, leaving tiny scratches on its cheek. Tiny drops of green blood beaded on its skin. *Stab, stab, stab…* Despite the pain, it pressed on, pushing deeper, further into the concealment.

From its hidden vantage point, it could see. It could see what was coming. The sound was the source. It heard murmurs, distant, yet strangely familiar. Its eyes widened. Humans. It still did not know their name, nor the source of their origins. They were covered in… rags? Not like its own, but clothing nonetheless. Different. Covering almost their entire bodies. One of them wore something shiny, that caught its eye.

The shiny thing, shimmering in the sunlight, seemed to encase almost the entire human's body. There were two of them. Both carried sticks… or rather, shiny sticks. The little monster, with its limited experience, had no knowledge of the true nature of these objects, of swords. They were different from the one it had seen before, the one wielded by that… monster, the one it barely escaped before the end.

These humans… they were terrifying. Humans had killed it, twice now. Humans were tall. It was small. It pressed itself further back into the bushes, fear a cold knot in its chest. It had no weapon. Even if it *did*, would it even matter? How long would it last?

The humans stopped. The one in the shiny shell looked around, murmuring to the other. As if they knew it was here. Fear blossomed, constricting its breath. Its heart began to pound. The other human shrugged. The shiny one murmured again, and then the other one rolled its eyes, turning away.

The shiny one's expression shifted, a flash of something… anger? As the other began to walk away, yelling words the little monster couldn't understand. The little monster, hidden within the protective embrace of the bushes, noticed the eye roll. It sparked a memory, a fleeting moment of… before it had been killed. A feeling the little monster did not understand, but it had felt before.

The little monster didn't understand the feeling. Annoyance? The word had no meaning, yet, when a goblin had rolled its eyes back then, it felt like that… like it, its feelings didn't matter. It had felt dismissed, not valued. And now, looking at the human's face, it felt the same. A new feeling.

When the humans disappeared, it remained perfectly still, holding its breath, listening. Waiting for the telltale crunch of footsteps to fade completely. Only then, after an eternity, did it emerge. Its green skin prickled as it brushed against the leaves, and a sigh escaped its lips, the tension finally draining. It touched its abdomen, felt the lingering ache from the blow. *Those branches were too dangerous.* It resolved to search for broken twigs, the kind it had used before, the kind that were strong enough to break a monster.

It walked away from the path of the humans. Then, a flash of color caught its attention. Blue, the color of the sky, but different. It walked closer. It had seen them before, those winged creatures, high above. But this was different. Larger.

It approached slowly, its senses on high alert, watching the creature as it came closer. The beauty struck it. It was beautiful. The body was a canvas of different colors of feathers. Its head was a vibrant blue, the same shade as the sky. From its waist down, the blue transitioned into a brilliant purple.

Suddenly, the creature twisted its head, turning to face the little monster. The little monster was shocked by the abrupt movement. It hadn't made a sound, not consciously, not that it knew of. Yet, the feathered creature turned and looked at it, as if it had been alerted to its presence. Their eyes met. The little monster, still a bit further away, felt its heart begin to pound. It wanted to run, to flee, but somehow… it was rooted.

It was captivated. The creature's feathers shimmered, a subtle dance of color. The blue of its head began to deepen, bleeding into the purple of its chest. Then, the purple seemed to melt away, transforming into a vibrant yellow. The little monster watched, spellbound.

It was as if, turning a different coat, its feathers now shifting into hues of a new beast.

The yellow slowly began to transition, now starting to shift to a fiery red. It was as if its feathers were now stained with blood. The wings spread wide, a panorama of colors. A moment of serene beauty. Then, a growl.

A red beast burst from the trees. The little monster's eyes exploded in surprise, dilating to large, black pools. Its heart hammered against its ribs, each beat a thunderclap in its ears. A scream formed in its throat, but its mouth was locked, a silent prisoner of its terror. The world tilted as the beast struck. The red dog's teeth sank into the feathered creature's neck. It pulled.

The little monster watched, horrified, as the flesh tore open, revealing bone and muscle. Blood sprayed from the wound, a crimson fountain against the green. The red dog *ripped* the creature's head from its body. The feathered monster's body crashed to the forest floor. Then, the red dog tossed the head into the air before swallowing it whole.

Its legs buckled, threatening to fail. It wanted to run, to disappear, but it was frozen, a small statue of green against the forest floor. It finally registered the size of the red dog, bigger than a human, something of a different world. A Boss monster.

The red monster loomed. The little monster felt the crushing weight of its presence, a sense of utter insignificance beneath the dog's gaze. It was not just the size, not just the power, but a deep feeling of being *lesser*. The little monster shivered, its teeth clicking in a frantic rhythm.

The red wolf took a step. Another step. Panic seized the little monster. Its legs gave way, and it crashed to its knees, a pathetic display of weakness. Then, a primal instinct took over. It bowed its head, burying its face in the dirt, a gesture of complete surrender. The absurdity of it, the offering of itself, echoed in its thoughts, but a suffocating terror eclipsed everything else.

The dog stopped, now towering over the little monster. It lowered its head and sniffed, the little monster feeling the warmth of its breath on its back. The dog growled low in its throat, the sound vibrating through the air. Then, the little monster was lifted. The worn, rough rag that served as a loincloth was its only point of contact, lifting it into the air.

Why wasn't it being eaten? The monster, still trembling, struggled for a grasp. The red dog began to move, carrying it away, deeper into the shadowed woods.

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