The morning sunlight pierced the thin mist hovering over the peak of Mount Jaya, creating a soft glow on the dew clinging to the tips of the grass. The cold air cut to the bone, carrying the scent of damp soil and wild foliage.
In the silence broken only by the wind and the chirping of distant birds, a moss-green tent stood on the cliffside, rustling slightly as its zipper slid open.
Sekar Arum stepped out, her face still heavy with sleep. Her messy black hair swayed in the wind, and she narrowed her eyes against the bright sun.
With lazy movements, she stretched, her joints popping after a long night on the hard ground. "Good morning, world!" she called out. Her voice echoed across the valley, followed by a pained groan. "Ugh, my back…" She rubbed her waist, cursing the mountain's unforgiving night chill.
Sekar was no ordinary person. At just twenty-four, she was already known as a talented environmental ecology researcher, though many colleagues in the city found her far too eccentric. To outsiders, she was simply a young woman obsessed with the wild.
But here, on the remote peak of Mount Jaya, she was the ruler of solitude, the only human in a vast sea of uncompromising trees.
She had survived on this mountain for seven days, armed with nothing but a tent, research equipment, and a thick notebook filled with hastily scribbled notes. This silence was her choice. Far from the city's suffocating crowds.
"Nature really is the best," she murmured, closing her eyes and letting the cold wind brush her face. A second later, her body shivered violently. "Except for the morning air!" She quickly rushed back into the tent, pulled on a thick black jacket, and wrapped a wool scarf around her neck.
Today, Sekar planned to refill her water supply from a river below, gather fish for lunch, and observe the surrounding environment.
She put on her glasses, grabbed the bamboo basket beside the tent, secured a machete at her waist, and checked the small device in her pocket—a radiation detector.
Its screen lit up at 16 percent. "It's rising," she muttered, eyebrows tightening. There was caution in her voice, though she brushed it aside and patted her basket. "Let's get started."
The river she was heading to lay a kilometer below the campsite, at the base of a steep slope. The path was lined with thorny bushes and slick rocks dampened by morning dew. For most people, the journey would be exhausting, but for Sekar, it was routine.
Her steps were light—almost playful—as she descended. Sunlight filtered through the trees in thin beams, casting long shadows that swayed behind her with every movement.
---
Sekar made her way down the trail, the bamboo basket swaying on her back while the machete tapped lightly against her hip.
The forest of Mount Jaya was always generous. Wild fruits drooped from branches, tempting to be picked, and forest vegetables grew thick between tree roots. Sekar gathered a few, her fingers skillful and precise. "Spinach for lunch," she murmured with a small smile.
Nature was her home, and in its embrace, she felt truly alive.
Her steps halted when the trail reached the edge of a dense, shadowed forest—an area known to be dangerous.
The trees towered high, their branches intertwined into a canopy that nearly strangled the sunlight. Only thin slivers of light slipped through, casting shifting patterns on the forest floor.
Entering such a place was never pleasant, but it was the only way to reach the river.
The moment she stepped into the dense forest, the atmosphere changed.
The air grew heavy. Birdsong vanished, replaced by a haunting stillness. Sekar felt eyes watching her. Her grip tightened around the machete, her skin prickling. "Wild dogs? Wolves? Or… tigers?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
She moved carefully, each step deliberate to avoid the snap of branches. The forest exit was already in sight when suddenly the detector crackled sharply.
Krrk… krrk…
Sekar flinched, nearly dropping her machete. She adjusted her glasses and checked the screen. No mistake. The display flashed red—17 percent. "Here?" she breathed, frowning. Higher than usual.
She abandoned the exit and followed the rising numbers. Eighteen percent. Nineteen. The crackling grew louder.
Pushing aside thick bushes, she finally saw it.
A strange yellow flower glowed softly in the middle of the thicket. Its petals burned like tiny flames—warm, steady, never dimming. Beautiful, but unnaturally so.
"This flower…" Sekar froze, breath hitching. Memories surged violently.
She had seen this flower before, and she had regretted it deeply. "This thing will only bring ruin," she hissed. Her grip tightened on the machete.
"I have to destroy it!"
She raised the blade—
Krrrk! Krrrk! Krrrk!
The detector screamed. The number jumped to 20 percent.
Sekar stiffened. "Impossible…" Her voice trembled. "How could it be this high?" Her heartbeat pounded. Every instinct in her body screamed danger.
The world fell eerily still.
Even falling dew sounded like a tolling bell. Grass rustled like an alarm. Something was behind her.
Sraaak!
Sekar spun, slashing instinctively. Her blade struck something hard but fleshy. Blood sprayed.
A split-second later, claws raked across her left cheek.
"Gaah!" She stumbled, clutching her face as hot blood streamed down her skin.
The creature roared. The sound shook the forest.
A massive tiger stood before her—deformed, its body partly covered in black, scale-like plates. A mutation. A nightmare.
Despite injuring its prey, the beast didn't attack immediately. It watched her warily, intelligence glinting in its eyes.
Sekar stared back, breathing hard. The detector crackled wildly—20 percent. The same level as the flower.
---
Blood dripped down her cheek, sizzling against the cold soil. Still, she didn't look away.
"It's real then," she murmured through clenched teeth. "Radiation is affecting animals too."
The tiger growled, low and rumbling, its red eyes glowing like embers.
It crouched, muscles tensing. Claws scraped the earth. Its black scales gleamed under faint sunlight, proof of a body twisted by radiation.
Sekar pushed herself upright. Her body trembled, but her gaze sharpened behind her blood-streaked glasses.
The woman who smiled at forest vegetables earlier no longer existed. What stood now was a blade drawn from its sheath. Sharp. Dangerous.
The tiger sensed it. Its instinct, which should have driven it to leap, hesitated. Its tail flicked. Its eyes narrowed. It was deciding whether this human was prey… or predator.
Sekar adjusted her glasses with a bloodstained finger. Calm. Steady. Dangerous.
She raised her machete. The dim sunlight ran across its edge like a warning.
"I can't let you go. You're important for my research." Her stance shifted, sharp and ready.
"You fight for your life or your freedom," she said—her voice flat, echoing strangely in the silent woods. "But what I do isn't out of hatred. It's for the sake of the world."
Then she moved.
Her body shot forward, impossibly fast for someone wounded. Like a darting shadow, she surged toward the tiger, her blade slicing through the air.
The tiger roared, leaping to meet her. Its claws aimed straight for her chest.
Clang!
Metal struck claw. Sparks burst.
Sekar spun away from the next swipe, though the second claw nearly grazed her shoulder. She jumped back, panting, a faint smile forming on her lips.
Their battle tore through the misty forest in a frenzy of steel and fury.
Sekar moved with calculated precision, each strike carrying unnatural strength. The tiger fought wildly, wounds piling on its body, yet refusing to surrender. Blood dripped from its belly, soaking the earth, but survival pushed it forward relentlessly.