Oblivion's Throne-Chapter 81: Picnic

Orion strode toward the landing bay, his brow furrowed in suspicion. He had trained under Varun long enough to know that the man didn't do things casually.

And yet, there he was, standing by a sleek transport vessel, grinning.

Varun grinning?

He has never seen the man smile before.

Orion slowed his pace, arms crossed. "Since when do you do picnics?" he asked, suspicion lacing his voice as he studied Varun's expression.

Varun chuckled, hoisting a pack into the ship's hold. "Since today," he said, amusement glinting in his eyes. He tossed Orion his weapon with a smirk. "You'll need that."

Orion caught it. He looked to Varun, there was an uneasy feeling settling in his gut. Varun was enjoying this. That alone was cause for concern.

With a flick of his wrist, Varun sealed the last crate into place and gestured to the open hatch. "Get in." he said.

Orion hesitated for only a second before stepping inside. The transport was small, built for speed, its interior lined with reinforced panels and a single row of seats. As the engines hummed to life, the restraints coiled around Orion's shoulders automatically.

He glanced at Varun, who was whistling. Whistling.

Yeah. This was definitely a trap.

The transport shot forward, breaching the upper atmosphere within minutes. The greenery stretched beneath them before the ship arced downward, cutting across continents in a blur. Orion barely had time to take in the vast landscapes shifting below before they descended into a dense, unfamiliar region.

Trees as tall as towers loomed beneath them, their twisted canopies forming a nearly impenetrable ceiling.

The transport touched down with a muted thud, landing in a clearing barely large enough to accommodate it. The moment the doors hissed open, the scent of damp earth, strange flora, and something distinctly predatory filled Orion's nostrils.

He stepped out cautiously, scanning his surroundings. The trees were thick, their bark ridged like armor. Strange, iridescent fungi pulsed faintly against the base of some trunks.

Orion turned slowly to Varun, arching a brow. "So... what now?" he asked, wariness creeping into his voice.

Varun remained standing at the edge of the transport's ramp, watching him with an expression that had shifted from amusement to something unreadable.

"Survive," he said, his tone now devoid of humor.

"What?" Orion asked blinking.

Varun didn't repeat himself. He simply stepped backward into the transport.

"Wait—" he called out.

But the doors were already sliding shut.

Orion took a sharp step forward, his hand raising instinctively—then the ship lifted off, vanishing into the dense canopy above.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Orion stared at the spot where the transport had been.

I will fucking kill you, Varun.

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Orion stood frozen in place, gripping his weapon so tightly his knuckles ached. The forest around him felt too alive.

Then came the sounds. Distant at first—deep, guttural calls echoing through the trees, something massive shifting in the undergrowth.

Orion forced his legs to move, each step feeling precarious, the very ground beneath him could betray him at any moment. His instincts screamed at him—too much noise, too exposed, too slow. Every nerve in his body was tuned to the environment, waiting for the inevitable.

The foliage around him was dense. The bark of the trees was textured like scaled armor. Some bore bioluminescent fungi, others pulsing faintly with sickly green light.

Don't touch anything you don't understand.

The first day was hell. Orion was too paranoid to eat fungi, so he ate leaves. The bitter, fibrous texture made his stomach churn, but he forced himself to chew and swallow. He had no way of knowing if they were safe, but they seemed less risky than the eerily glowing mushrooms that pulsed against the tree trunks like breathing organisms. Every nerve in his body was screaming for sustenance, but fear won out over hunger. His throat was dry, his limbs ached, and the emptiness in his stomach became an ever-present torment. He had to find something better—and soon.

Sleep was a luxury he couldn't afford in this forest. Every rustle, every shifting shadow sent his heart hammering against his ribs. The sheer density of the trees made it impossible to see more than a few feet ahead, and the night brought an oppressive silence broken only by the occasional, distant call of some unseen predator.

Sleep would mean lowering his guard, and in this place, lowering his guard meant death. But how long could he last before exhaustion took the choice away from him?

And he knew better than to light a fire.

Orion tried to map out a plan, but every idea was cut short by the sheer unpredictability of this place. He needed food, water, shelter—but the very act of searching could get him killed.

Orion remained where he was, pressed against the base of an enormous tree, weapon gripped so tightly his fingers had gone numb.

Orion's body was shutting down. His legs trembled with every step, his vision swam in and out of focus, and his mind had become a sluggish haze of exhaustion, paranoia, and raw, gnawing hunger.

He also needed water.

Dehydration would kill him before starvation. That much he knew.

The only water sources he found were dark pools, their surfaces covered in an oily sheen.

He crouched near one, staring at his warped reflection in the sluggish current. His lips were cracked. Is it safe? He had no idea.

His fingers hovered over the water's surface, hesitating. If it was contaminated, he'd be dead within hours. But if he did nothing—

A soft ripple.

Orion yanked his hand back just as something darted beneath the surface—fast, serpentine, and disturbingly precise. The water barely stirred, but he'd seen it. He exhaled sharply. He took a step back, resisting the primal urge to run, knowing that panic was as deadly as any predator.

This whole fucking forest is trying to kill me.

His stomach twisted. Hunger clawed at his insides. He could barely think past it.

The plants here looked wrong. The fruits—if they were fruits—were too vibrant, their skins shifting between colors .

Most of the brightly colored mushrooms were probably toxic—nature's way of warning predators. But without proper knowledge, there was no way to be sure. Testing it was a risk Orion wasn't willing to take, not when a single mistake could mean agonizing death. He clenched his jaw, stomach twisting in protest, but he ignored it. Hunger was bad, but poison was worse.

But at least hunger overpowered fear.

His muscles ached, his body too weak to even panic anymore. The sharp edges of his thoughts dulled, making room for only one desperate need: survive.

He crouched near a plant with broad, waxy leaves, its scent faintly citrus-like. That was a good sign, right? Something familiar?

His hands shook as he tore off a piece.

The fibrous texture resisted slightly, but he forced it between his fingers, brought it to his lips. Just one bite...

A low growl.

Orion froze.

The air shifted, the weight of something pressing against his senses. A presence.

Slowly he turned his head.

Between the twisted trees, half-shrouded in the dim undergrowth, something watched him.

Luminous eyes gleamed within a broad, lupine skull, its elongated snout lined with overlapping fangs that jutted at odd angles. A thick mane of bristling fur ran down its spine, matted in places where jagged bone-like protrusions jutted from its shoulders.

Its massive, quadrupedal frame was covered in dense, dark fur, broken only by patches of raw, sinewy flesh.

Orion's fingers twitched on his weapon. Every ounce of exhaustion, of hunger, of weakness, was swallowed by a single realization.

He wasn't alone anymore.

The creature's muscles tensed, claws sinking into the damp earth. Orion barely had time to register the shift before it lunged horrifyingly fast.