Caspian's senses sharpened as the deliberate rhythm of breath echoed again through the alien forest. Nearby, faint flickers of light shimmered like ripples on the air, coalescing into figures emerging from the haze—others like him, stranded in this strange new world.
They moved with caution, eyes darting across shadowed undergrowth, muscles taut with unease. But they never sensed Caspian's presence. He melted deeper into the shadows, choosing silence over confrontation.
Military discipline drilled into him the same command: stay hidden until the threat is understood. No risks.
From his vantage point, he watched as they fumbled with scavenged supplies, searched desperately for shelter—lost souls as bewildered as himself.
His mind raced through survival protocols. Engineering logic kicked in, analyzing the terrain, calculating resources, plotting escape routes.
When the strangers finally slipped deeper into the forest's labyrinth, Caspian exhaled a slow breath.
It was time.
He crouched low, moving like a shadow toward a nearby stream. The water ran cold, tinged with strange minerals, but it was drinkable.
With jagged crystal shards torn from a fallen branch, he fashioned a crude spear. His military training guided his hands as he set primitive snares and traps, weaving vines and positioning stones—a silent arsenal against the unseen.
As twilight deepened beneath the shifting glow of three suns, Caspian built a lean-to shelter, steady and unyielding.
The breath came again—closer now.
He tightened his grip on the spear, eyes sharp but steady.
This world was alien, unpredictable.
But Caspian Reyes was ready.
Survival here demanded more than endurance.
It demanded mastery.
A ruthless intellect.
The game had truly begun.