I woke up choking.
My body convulsed as bitter fluid spilled from my mouth onto the dirt. Every muscle screamed. My ribs felt like cracked pottery, barely holding together with pain and willpower alone.
I clawed at the ground, gasping.
The jungle was dim—early morning light filtering through leaves heavy with mist. Everything smelled damp. Rotting. Alive.
And empty.
For a moment, I didn't remember why my chest hurt like this.
Then I did.
"…Raptor."
The word came out broken.
Silence answered.
I lay there staring at the canopy, breathing shallowly, afraid that if I inhaled too deeply something inside me would tear open for good.
My side burned. Dried blood matted my fur. Every attempt to move sent lightning through my spine.
A small weight pressed against my arm.
The monkey.
He sat beside me, back straight, eyes alert. Not chattering. Not joking. Not throwing fruit.
Watching.
Guarding.
He had blood on his hands too—mine. He must've dragged me farther than I realized.
"Hey…" I whispered. "…You okay?"
He nodded once.
Just once.
That hurt more than if he'd screamed.
I tried to sit up. Failed. My body refused outright.
"…How long?" I asked.
The monkey lifted two fingers. Then paused. Lowered one.
"…One day?" I croaked.
Another nod.
I swallowed. My throat felt raw.
"So… we lived."
The monkey looked away.
That was answer enough.
---
The system flickered to life.
Not bright.
Not loud.
Like a machine powering on after a long blackout.
---
[Host Status Update]
HP: 19%
Condition:
• 2 fractured ribs
• Severe muscle strain
• Blood loss (stabilizing)
• Shock residue detected
Emergency recovery protocols available.
---
I laughed weakly. It came out more like a cough.
"…What's the price?"
The system paused.
Longer than usual.
---
[Emergency Recovery will consume:]
• 8% Evolution Progress
• 12% stored EXP
[This action is irreversible.]
---
I closed my eyes.
So even healing wasn't free anymore.
"…Do it," I said.
A dull warmth spread through my chest. Not pleasant. Not comforting. Just… functional. Like bone knitting together because it had to, not because it wanted to.
The pain dulled to a constant ache.
I opened my eyes again.
"Raptor saved us," I whispered.
The monkey stiffened.
I kept staring at the leaves.
"He didn't wait for a command," I continued. "Didn't hesitate. Didn't run."
My hands clenched slowly into fists.
"I couldn't protect him. I couldn't even tell him to stop."
The system projected a new window.
Smaller than the others.
Heavier.
---
[Companion Loss Registered]
Bond Type: Tamed
Outcome: Fatal
[Companion Mortality Index: ACTIVE]
[Note: Once a bonded companion perishes, resurrection permissions are permanently revoked.]
---
I didn't respond.
Didn't shout.
Didn't rage.
I just stared at the words until they burned into me.
"So that's it," I murmured. "No second chances."
The monkey finally looked back at me.
His eyes weren't angry.
They were… clear.
He tapped his chest once.
Then pointed to me.
Then gestured behind us—toward where the forest still stood, silent and untouched.
"He stayed… because you couldn't," the monkey said softly.
His voice was rough. New. Like he wasn't used to using it for things like this.
The words hit harder than the Titan's roar ever had.
I nodded, slow and small.
"…Yeah," I whispered. "I know."
---
Later, when the painkillers faded and hunger gnawed at my stomach, I tried to stand again.
I fell.
The monkey caught me before my face hit the ground.
I froze.
Then shook my head.
"…I can't rely on fear anymore," I said quietly. "Can't rely on something that disappears when it matters."
The monkey watched me carefully.
I reached behind me out of habit.
Nothing happened.
No response.
No power.
No authority.
Only weakness.
The system confirmed it gently:
---
[Poop Command remains LOCKED.]
---
I exhaled slowly.
Then forced myself upright—this time with a tree for support, legs trembling violently.
"I don't want anyone else dying for me," I said. "Not because they were ordered to. Not because they were scared."
The monkey climbed up onto my shoulder, light but steady.
I didn't feel like a master anymore.
Just… someone who lived.
Somewhere far away, the forest shifted.
The Titan Apex did not return.
But I knew—
Surviving didn't mean winning.
It meant remembering.
And next time…
It would mean doing things differently.