Signs of Change

  The Shadowjaw’s body drifts away, vanishing into the black.

  I do not chase it. I do not eat.

  I simply float.

  I won.

  I should feel relief. Or satisfaction.

  But I feel something else.

  Something new.

  It lingers inside me, twisting through my body like the slow pull of the current.

  I am not the same.

  ---

  The abyss is quiet now.

  The water is still, disturbed only by the fading scent of blood. The Shadowjaw is dead, but the ocean does not stop moving.

  Neither can I.

  The hunger claws at my stomach, but I ignore it for now. My body hurts. The Shadowjaw’s teeth cut deep, and every small movement sends a sharp ache through my side.

  [ Status Updated. ]

  ? Condition: Injured (Recovering – 49% Health)

  ? Hunger: 62% (Manageable, but rising)

  I need to rest. But resting too long means death.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Other predators will come. They always do.

  I push forward, moving slowly, carefully. The safest place is the one no one sees.

  ---

  I find shelter beneath a jagged rock formation, wedging myself inside a narrow space. The pressure of the stone against my back is comforting. It reminds me that I am hidden, that nothing can reach me here.

  The water flows gently around me, carrying the distant tremors of the ocean. It is never silent.

  I focus on the faint vibrations, letting them ground me.

  Something shifts.

  A deep, pulling sensation—not from the water, but from within me.

  [ Adaptation Progress: 4.1% ]

  It happens slowly, almost imperceptibly. But I feel it now.

  I am changing.

  ---

  At first, I think it’s just the exhaustion, the lingering pain from the fight. But then I notice something different.

  My gills flare, and I sense the water more clearly than before.

  The faintest shift in pressure. The smallest flicker of movement. I can feel it all.

  My muscles tighten, and a strange impulse rolls through me. I flick my tail, and my movements are sharper, more precise.

  I freeze.

  [ Status Updated. ]

  ? [New Trait: Enhanced Reflexes] – Your body has begun adjusting to rapid combat. Movements are more efficient, reaction time slightly increased.

  I exhale slowly. This is real.

  It’s not a gift. Not something I earned from a system or an outside force.

  It is survival shaping me.

  And I will keep adapting.

  ---

  The hunger presses against my ribs, dull but growing. I wait a little longer, letting my body recover, then push myself free of the rocks.

  I need to hunt.

  I keep low to the seafloor, letting the water carry me forward. My movements feel different now. Not faster, but… smoother. More instinctual.

  [ Status Identified. ]

  ? Juvenile Abyssal Squid

  ? Species: Deep-Sea Cephalopod

  ? Health: 82%

  ? Condition: Unaware

  I slow my approach, observing carefully. The squid drifts lazily, pulsing with soft bioluminescence. A perfect target.

  I coil my body, muscles tensing.

  Then, I strike.

  My body moves before I think, surging forward with newfound precision. The squid reacts, but it’s too late.

  My jaws clamp down.

  Ink bursts into the water, but I do not let go.

  [ Health: 43%… 12%… 0%. ]

  It stops moving.

  I swallow.

  [ Prey Consumed: Juvenile Abyssal Squid ]

  [ +0.3 Adaptation Progress ]

  The warmth spreads through me, but something else stirs beneath the surface.

  Another pulse. A new sensation.

  [ Adaptation Progress: 5.2% ]

  I am still changing.

  ---

  The deep shifts.

  I feel it before I see it. A pressure in the water, faint but growing stronger.

  Not one creature.

  Many.

  I stop moving. Something is coming.

  The vibrations grow clearer. Multiple pulses, moving in synchronized patterns. Not random. Not drifting.

  A group.

  [ Status Identified. ]

  ? Unknown Creatures (5)

  ? Health: ???

  ? Condition: Approaching

  I stay perfectly still, waiting. Watching.

  Then, I see them.

  Dark shapes gliding through the abyss, moving with eerie coordination.

  I do not recognize them.

  They are not hunting, but they are not aimless.

  They are searching.

  And I do not want them to find me.

  I back away slowly, pressing myself into the rocks. I will not be seen.

  Not yet.

  Not until I

  know what they are.

  I have survived this long. I will survive longer.

  But something tells me—

  The ocean is much bigger than I ever imagined.

  And I am still very small.