Darkness. Silence. Cold.

Then—

DING!

A mechanical, disgustingly cheerful voice pierced the void.

"Congratulations on reincarnating!"

Isabella's consciousness slammed back into existence like a train wreck. Her breath hitched.

Her fingers twitched. Then, with a violent jolt, she shot upright—only to immediately regret it as a wave of dizziness knocked her sideways.

Her hands dug into damp soil. Grass? Twigs? Something slimy? Her heart pounded. Where was she? What was happening?

And more importantly—

What happened to her designer outfit?!

Her hands flew to her body, expecting silky fabric, maybe her diamond bracelet—

Instead, she grabbed onto rough, scratchy fur. FUR.

Her scream cut through the trees.

"What the HELL is this?!" She scrambled to her feet, horror settling in as she took in the ugly, lumpy thing draped over her body.

It was an animal hide dress, stitched together with actual sinew. The material was coarse, smelled weird, and left her arms and legs way too exposed.

She turned in frantic circles. The forest around her was massive—thick ancient trees loomed overhead, vines draped over branches like decorations, and the damp air smelled of earth and something vaguely wild. The ground squelched beneath her bare feet.

Bare. Feet.

Where were her heels? Where was her silk robe? Where was her king-sized bed in her luxury penthouse?!

The system chimed in again.

"You have been transported to the Great Tribal Lands! Survival rate: 0% without assistance."

Her breath hitched. "Excuse me? TRANSPORTED?! What kind of sick joke is this?"

She spun wildly, expecting cameras, expecting stage lights, expecting some obnoxious prank show host to pop out and yell, "Surprise!"

No one came.

The system continued, unfazed.

"First survival task initiated."

A blue screen popped up before her, floating midair like some futuristic hologram.

First Mission: Find the Lion Tribe (+30 points).

Bonus: Gain the favor of a four-striped beastman (+100 points).

"You have 24 hours to complete the tasks" The system spoke as a count down started: 23:59:59

She blinked. "Find the—what? Beastman? What is that?"

Then, in smaller red letters, a warning appeared.

Failure to comply will result in elimination.

Her blood ran cold.

"Elimination?" Her voice wobbled. "What do you mean, elimination?"

No response.

"You better start explaining RIGHT NOW!" She stomped her foot, then instantly regretted it because OW. The ground was filled with twigs, rocks, and who knows what else poking her soft, delicate feet.

Still, she refused to back down.

"Listen here, you stupid system! I am Isabella Devereaux! I have won three Best Actress Awards! I have modeled for Chanel, Prada and Versace! You think I'm just gonna run off into some savage tribe like a lunatic?!"

The system did not care.

"Failure to comply will result in elimination."

Her stomach dropped. This wasn't happening. This wasn't real. She was hallucinating.

Her hands shook as she ran them through her hair. At least that was still intact. Thank god. But her nails—

She gasped. Her perfectly manicured nails were chipped.

Her eyes burned. This was officially the worst morning of her entire life.

Her heart pounded in her chest. Think, Isabella. Think.

Maybe this was a prank? Maybe she was drugged? Maybe—maybe she was in a coma, and this was a messed-up coma dream?

Yes. That had to be it.

But to be honest she really couldn't understand what was going on. What really happened to her?

But then again the last thing she remembered was hearing gunshots in her sleep last night. Had she been killed in her sleep? No, no—that couldn't be right.

She inhaled deeply. "Okay. Deep breaths. Maybe if I wake up properly, I'll be back in my bed. I just need my coffee. And my painkillers."

Silence.

The wind rustled the leaves. Something chirped in the distance. A shadow moved in the trees.

A lump formed in her throat.

She turned back to the glowing blue screen.

Find the Lion Tribe. Gain the favor of a four-striped beastman.

Some kind of caveman.

Yeah, no. Not happening. She wasn't about to go flirt with some dirty half-animal man.

The system beeped.

"Failure to comply will result in elimination."

"STOP SAYING THAT!"

She stomped forward—then yelped as her foot caught on a root.

Gravity betrayed her.

She tumbled forward, arms flailing. "No, no, NO—!"

SPLAT.

Face. First. Into the dirt.

A strangled scream left her lips. Oh. Oh, this was it. This was rock bottom. Isabella Devereaux—famous actress, model, socialite—was now eating dirt in the middle of nowhere.

Tears pricked her eyes. No. Nope. She was NOT built for this. This was not the life she signed up for.

She lay there, face buried in the mud, unwilling to move. Maybe if she stayed like this, she'd wake up in her bed, warm and comfortable, with breakfast delivered to her suite.

"Wake up," she whispered to herself. "Wake up, wake up, wake up."

Nothing happened.

Her breath hitched.

A sharp rustling came from the bushes.

Her body went rigid.

Slowly—very slowly—she lifted her head.

Something big moved in the shadows.

Her stomach dropped. Oh, hell no.

The system chimed in again.

"Warning: Host is close to entering dangerous territory. Proceed with caution."

Dangerous territory?!

Her survival instincts screamed.

She bolted upright, turned on her heel, and ran.

Branches whipped against her arms, vines tangled at her feet, but she did not stop.

"I am NOT built for this! Someone get me out of here!"

The system, completely unsympathetic, beeped cheerfully.

"Congratulations! You are now heading toward the Lion Tribe!"

She tripped over another vine, stumbled forward, and barely caught herself.

"I'M NOT TRYING TO GO THERE, YOU EVIL COMPUTER!"

But the system did not care.

And neither did the thing now chasing her through the trees.