THROUGH STONE AND FIRE

"That was kinda dumb. Why did I even try to stab it when it's not solid? Though, I doubt slashing would've made much difference," he muttered to himself, wiping the sticky remnants of slime off his hands.

His priority now was to find somewhere safe to stay—a task he knew wouldn't be easy. But he didn't have much of a choice. The last thing he wanted was to find out what other monsters lurked in the dark.

This obviously wasn't Earth. And even on Earth, staying alone in a forest at night was a terrible idea.

"But... what do I do with this?" he asked aloud, staring at the faintly glowing core in his palm.

His gaze shifted to the knife in his other hand, and for the first time, he noticed something he hadn't before.

At the base of the handle, a small hole was present. It was perfectly sized for the glowing core.

"Maybe it's worth a shot," he mused.

Carefully, he placed the core into the opening.

The moment it clicked into place, the carvings on the knife began to glow with a hypnotic light—mesmerizing and strangely beautiful. He blinked, forcing himself to focus as the knife began to transform before his eyes.

The blade warped, curving like a claw, the once-intricate carvings deepening into glowing, ancient runes that pulsed faintly. The handle shifted as well, taking on a jagged, bone-like texture wrapped tightly in red cloth.

It didn't look like the knife he'd been holding just moments ago. It didn't even feel the same.

The weapon had already been unusual—handmade with carvings etched into both the blade and the handle, carrying an unsettling air that suggested it wasn't meant for ordinary hands. But now, it was something entirely different.

It felt alive.

A sinister energy radiated from it, heavy and purposeful, as though the weapon itself demanded to be wielded.

Jordan held the knife firmly, his grip adjusting to the new shape. It felt... strange in his hands. Unnatural, yet almost like it was meant for him.

"I still don't know what the hell is going on," he muttered, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. Then he glanced at the weapon and let out a small exhale.

"But at least I have a better weapon now."

Jordan looked around, picking a random direction to walk in.He had to find somewhere to camp.

---

The sky was beginning to darken, the bright blue fading into an orange hue, signaling that night was approaching.

As he walked, Jordan realized he still had his wallet. But as he rifled through it, he knew its contents wouldn't help much in his current predicament.

All he had were his ID, twenty dollars, and a few gift cards.

---

Thankfully, Jordan had a small idea of what to do, thanks to a three-day wildlife retreat he'd attended, where he'd learned some basic survival skills. After walking for a while, he stumbled upon a small open area in the forest, offering a clear view of the surrounding land. It seemed like a perfect spot to set up camp and keep watch for anything that might approach.

He wasted no time, pulling out his knife to carefully carve a fireboard and spindle from a nearby tree. His mind flashed back to the retreat, remembering how to use the bow drill method. He tied a piece of shoelace to a curved branch to create the bow, then shredded the plastic gift cards into strips to use as kindling.

After what felt like hours of painstaking effort, Jordan finally managed to coax a small ember from the fireboard. Gently, he transferred it to the tinder, and with a few careful puffs, a tiny flame flickered to life. Another small victory.

With the twigs he had gathered earlier, Jordan carefully fed the fire until it grew to a decent size.

"What now?" he muttered to himself. He hadn't encountered any other living beings since the slime—just the occasional bird, strange in its own right, with two pairs of wings instead of one.

But as he sat there, staring into the flames, something finally clicked in his mind.

He was dead.

It hit him slowly, like a distant echo he hadn't been able to hear until now. The bar, his internal plea for help, the way everything had gone dark as the weight of his thoughts dragged him into a deeper pit. And then... suddenly, this—this strange, vivid world. It didn't feel like a dream.

The slime he had read about, the one supposedly found only in places where people died and ended up in these kinds of worlds—this was one of those places. He had always thought it was just fiction.

"Shit," he muttered, his breath catching in his throat. His hands shot up to his head, gripping it tightly, as if he could stop the truth from sinking in. But it was too late. The reality was suffocating, its weight sending his mind into a spiral. It wasn't some cruel trick. He was really gone. There was no going back.

The fire crackled before him, an eerie comfort as his thoughts raced, searching for some explanation, some way to make sense of it all. But there was nothing. Just this new world, strange and indifferent, and the haunting truth that he was utterly, completely alone.

As the weight of it sank in, another crushing realization followed—he had nothing. No parents, no partner, not even a pet waiting for him. Just an empty apartment that barely felt like home, a dead-end job that didn't pay enough to matter, and a life that had barely made a dent in the world.

No one was waiting for him. Not in this world, nor the one he'd left behind. No one had cared enough to even notice he was gone. His last moments on Earth flashed in his mind—dying in that bar, silently begging for someone to help him, to save him, but it had all been for nothing. Now, here he was—dead, in a world as cold and indifferent as the life he'd lived.

The fire crackled, but it felt distant, its warmth just out of reach, mocking him. The silence of this new world pressed in on him, suffocating and unforgiving. What was he supposed to do now? Would it even matter?

But then, something shifted inside him. It was hard to admit, but he couldn't ignore it. This was a second chance—though brutal, and at a steep cost. There were no promises here, no guarantees, but for the first time in a long while, Jordan realized he had the freedom to choose something different. Something real. He wasn't just a cog in a broken system anymore.

As difficult as it was to accept, he embraced this chance. Whatever came next, he would face it—not because he had to, but because—deep down—he finally had the chance to make it count. He wouldn't waste it.

"Grumble."

The sound of his stomach growled, interrupting his thoughts and filling the silence with an awkward reminder of his current situation.