Thirstfall - Memory of a Returnee-Chapter 24: Hearbeats in the Dark

The teleport isn’t a graceful transition of particles. It’s a dry heave. Sudden, confusing, and violent—like being yanked through a keyhole by your collar.

"God damn..." I wheeze. "These forced teleports never get any easier."

I hit the ground already in a crouch, boots digging into wet mulch. But I don’t move. I don’t even breathe. I keep my eyes snapped open, scanning the perimeter in a tight 180-degree arc.

The first few seconds are crucial.

I notice a dense canopy above, blocking out the sky. Massive roots twist like snakes across the floor. The air is thick, humid, and smells of rotting vegetation.

A rainforest biome. Or something close to it.

The Academy’s backyard?

I straighten up slightly, checking my six. Luckily, I find nothing. Just trees and shadows.

I am alone... ​

"Team task, my ass. They scattered us on purpose. First test: Find your squad before you die alone." I grumble.

As I let a heavy sigh escape my lungs, a red notification pulses in the corner of my vision demanding attention.

[SQUAD LINK ESTABLISHED]

[Teleport accepted by implicit contract signature.]

"Implicit signature," I mutter, a dry laugh escaping my throat. "I don’t recall anyone handing me a pen. Thirstfall doesn’t scam you with lies; they just hide your death warrant in the fine print."

Ignoring the useless legal text, I flick my eyes to the Party Frame. It’s painfully minimalist.

In Old World video games, you had health bars, mana gauges, coordinates, and mini-maps. Here? Reality is cruel. There are no convenient percentages to tell you how close your friends are to dying. Just four names and a jagged, terrifying EKG line next to each one.

A simple, cardiac rhythm that reminds you who is still breathing.

And right now, Veric’s line is spiking.

I reach for the comms rune behind my ear to check in, but a voice explodes in my head before I can touch it.

"SHIT!"

The scream is followed by the deafening, unmistakable CLANG of steel meeting steel.

"Hello to you too, Veric," I whisper, wincing at the volume, fighting the urge to curse him for scaring me.

"Get off!" Veric roars, his voice breathless and strained. "Ambush! I spawned right on top of another team! There’s a Diver on me... wait... NO! A third one just jumped in! It’s a free-for-all!"

I smirk, staying low in the brush. "Started the party without me? Don’t kill them too fast, Tank. I still need to steal those kills for the wager."

"Screw your wager!" Veric bellows, the sound of his shield buckling under heavy impact echoing through the link. "Find me! NOW! I can’t hold two flankers forever! Get your ass over here!"

"Hold the line," I say calmly. But my eyes aren’t on Veric’s name.

They are on Lola’s EKG rhythm.

Her heart rate is climbing. Faster than I’d like. The line is becoming erratic, jagged peaks of panic.

Veric is screaming. The sound of metal is constant. And Lola is listening to all of it without a filter.

"Lola?" I say, keeping my voice soft, trying to cut through Veric’s noise. "Lola, focus on my voice. Breathe."

Static. No response. Her heart rate keeps climbing.

"Rhayne?"

Dead air. Her line is slow, dangerously steady. The calm of a predator—or a corpse.

This is bad.

If I don’t find the Bomb Girl first, this entire forest is going to turn into a crater.

"Priority shift," I mutter. "Find Lola, or we all burn."

Suddenly, the sky cracks open.

A magically amplified voice booms from the heavens, shaking the leaves off the trees. It’s smooth, theatrical, and utterly annoying.

"WELCOME, CANDIDATES! TO THE FIRST ANNUAL AZURE ACADEMY BATTLE ROYALE!"

I freeze, looking up through the canopy.

"I could bore you with a long list of regulations," the Voice continues, cheerful as a game show host. "But let’s be honest. You didn’t come here for rules. So, here is the rulebook: THERE ARE NONE."

A pause for dramatic effect.

"Well... just two tiny addendums. First: To spice things up, we have released a few... ’pets’ from the Reef into the arena. They are hungry. Do try to be agonizingly delicious for them."

I scoff. Of course. PvP wasn’t enough.

Damn bastards. Is this just a game to them?

"Second: Check your pockets. You will find a small vial containing a dark blue light. If you find yourself bleeding out, missing a limb, or just crying for your mother... break it. You will be instantly teleported to the infirmary and eliminated from the game. Simple, right?"

I pat my pocket. Sure enough, cold glass. A ’Bitch Button’. I leave it there.

"If you can’t manage to break that vial... Well, the Ocean’s Laws are non-negotiable, and a surprise will happen—but not for the ones who passed. Good luck out there. BEGIN!"

The magical amplification cuts off. The booming voice fades, leaving a ringing silence that is quickly filled by the forest itself.

It’s a dense, suffocating symphony.

The high-pitched drill of invisible cicadas creates a wall of white noise. The wet drip-drip-drip of condensation falls from the high canopy like a ticking clock. Somewhere far off, a bird—or something pretending to be one—lets out a rhythmic, metallic whistle.

*Chirp.*

*Buzz.*

*Drip.*

It’s chaotic, loud, and entirely natural. The breathing of a living biome.

Then, the rhythm breaks.

It isn’t a fade-out. It is a violation.

*Snap.*

A twig breaks to my left.

It cuts through the insect hum like a gunshot. Sharp. Heavy. Deliberate.

My body tenses, locking into place. The atmosphere shifts instantly from annoyance to lethal tension.

I turn my head slowly, peering into the dense fog and vines. The cicadas are still buzzing, but they sound distant now. All my focus is on that ten-foot gap in the fern.

Player? Or one of the "pets"?

​I don’t wait to find out. I kill the mic and drag myself behind the thick trunk of a fern-tree.

​Then, I feel the world stopping.

​The cicadas don’t fade out; they are strangled. The wind dies instantly. The rhythmic dripping vanishes. The silence is sudden and absolute, pressing against my eardrums like deep water.

​Nature didn’t just get quiet. It is hiding.

My nerves instinctively seized; something was terribly wrong.

​A cold drop of sweat slides down my spine. My stomach drops, a sickening lurch of instinct that has nothing to do with logic. My hands turn clammy against the rough bark.

​I risk a glance.

The fog ahead shifts.

​A massive shadow detaches itself from the tree line.

​It hits the ground on four limbs. Heavy. Muscular.

​It moves with a terrifying lack of sound. No growls, no snapping twigs. Just the silent, rolling motion of pure muscle under wet, black scales.

​It stops ten feet away.

​It doesn’t roar. It simply stands there, its head swiveling with the slow, mechanical precision of a radar.

​It isn’t a student.

It’s a Reef Stalker. A biological tank that outweighs me by three hundred pounds.

​My grip on the hilt loosens. Not from shock, but from uselessness.

​I press my back against the wood. I stop breathing.

​A pet? Really, motherfuckers? This damn thing outclasses a Coral Ripper three times over...

​Moving with the silent precision of a veteran, I orbit the tree in a deadly ballet. My body acts on instinct, sliding in perfect sync with the beast to stay pinned in its blind spot as it passes just a few feet away.

​Everything is flawless. The movement, the timing, the stealth.

​But there’s one thing a returnee’s experience can’t mask: biology.

​My Rank-F guts let out a treacherous, sharp gurgle. A hollow rumble of gas from the OXI drops that cuts through the silence like a scream.

​Damn it. Not now. ​Am I a joke to you, you useless body?

​The quiet footsteps suddenly cease.

​I freeze.

​From the other side of the bark, I hear two wet, gentle sniffs.