"That's… that's a mutant beast, isn't it?" John breathed, his voice barely audible over the thunder of his own heartbeat. His blood turned to ice. "But it's… enormous. I've never heard of anything this big."
Panic seized his limbs before logic could intervene. He turned and bolted through the thick undergrowth, thorny vines scratching at his arms as he ran. Branches slapped at his face, but he didn't stop—couldn't. Behind him, each thunderous step of the creature shook the ground, the monstrous silhouette framed against the glowing moon like a beast ripped from the age of legends.
He dared a glance back.
"Oh my god," he whispered, breath caught in his throat. "I really am on Earth. That's… that's a dinosaur! Run, John, run!"
He poured every ounce of fear-fueled adrenaline into his legs. But the creature—massive, swift, and terrifying—gained on him. Its roar pierced the night air, a primal sound that split the silence like a blade.
Then—suddenly—John tripped.
The world spun as he tumbled, hitting the forest floor hard. The dinosaur lunged past him, unable to stop in time. Its immense form crashed through the trees, the earth trembling under its weight.
John gasped, scrambling to his feet. He didn't wait to see if it turned back. He fled again, veering into the thick foliage. Branches clawed at him like hands trying to drag him down. He needed shelter. Now.
But then—movement.
Something else stirred nearby, and the dinosaur froze mid-roar. Its gaze turned toward the undergrowth… and something shifted in its eyes. Fear.
A grotesque creature emerged from the ground. Its body glistened, segmented, and covered in thick, armored chitin. Moonlight reflected off its polished shell. Its size rivaled that of a cart, its antennae twitching like sensors. It regarded the dinosaur with cold, inhuman focus.
The predator had become the prey.
The dinosaur stepped back, nostrils flaring. Then, it noticed something beneath its feet—a strange, pulsating object, now crushed. The moment it registered what it had stepped on, it released another roar, not of dominance… but of fear.
The dinosaur, still roaring, took a tentative step back. It had clearly encountered this creature before, and the memory was not pleasant.
The forest erupted.
Hisses, shrieks, and heavy footfalls collided in a chorus of chaos. John, huddled behind the thorns, could only glimpse fragments of the battle. Trees splintered. Earth tore. The dinosaur's jaws snapped, but the insect's armor deflected the bite. In a blur of movement, they vanished deeper into the forest, locked in a primal duel.
Then—light.
A streak of brightness cut through the night sky and crashed into the ground just meters from John. He flinched, bracing for yet another beast.
But what he saw stunned him.
A creature—sleek, injured, glowing faintly—lay crumpled in the leaves. It was unlike the dinosaur: smaller, no larger than a rabbit, but luminous and elegant. Its wide, shimmering eyes blinked at him in pain.
John felt his fear flicker, replaced by something softer.
Empathy.
He stepped cautiously from the thorns and approached. The creature didn't flee. Instead, it watched him, wary but still.
John crouched beside it, extending his hand slowly. "It's okay," he murmured. "I'm not going to hurt you."
The creature blinked once, then allowed him to lift it. Its shell was smooth, cool to the touch—like polished stone etched with intricate symbols that shimmered in the moonlight. He carried it back to the hollow of a nearby tree, laying it gently on the dry earth.
It let out a faint, grateful chirp before closing its eyes.
John stared at it, confused and awed. This… wasn't just an insect. This was something else—ancient, powerful. It radiated a strange dignity, a quiet intelligence that unsettled him.
As night began to fade, the first light of dawn crept across the sky. The forest was still again. John remained inside the hollow tree, watching over the strange creature like a guardian.
Then—reality returned.
"Oh no…" he groaned. "The sun's coming up. That dinosaur could spot me from miles away now. And then…"
He didn't finish the thought.
But before he could move, the creature stirred.
Its glowing eyes reopened, and it stared straight at him. Awake. Aware.
"You're okay now," John said softly, trying to smile. "Look, your wounds are closed. You can go."
The creature didn't move.
Instead, it extended one of its slender, clawed limbs and touched John's hand.
Its grip was strong—almost too strong—but not hostile. It held onto him as if… it didn't want to leave.
John frowned. "What's wrong? Don't you want to go? I'm not stopping you."
But the insect-like creature clung tighter, refusing to release him. Its body began to glow—faintly at first, then brighter, a white light pulsing from its shell.
"W-what are you doing?" John asked, alarm rising in his voice.
The creature didn't answer.
And then—light.
A flood of luminous energy surged from the creature into John's hands. His veins ignited with heat. Not pain, not exactly… but a sensation so alien it took his breath away.
John cried out, his body arching. And then it was gone.
John stared at his hands, his mind reeling. The white light had vanished, leaving no trace.
John stared at his hands, stunned. No burns. No scars. No signs of what had just happened.
But he could feel it.
Something was different.
He stumbled out of the hollow tree, his heart pounding in his chest.
"What… what was that?" he whispered, breath shaky. He looked back at the hollow tree, then back at his hands.
"What's happening to me? How did it… how did it get inside my hands?"
He turned to glance back at the hollow tree.
Whatever had just happened—it had changed him.
Forever.