ARK Survival Ascended

Chapter Two

Ethan p.o.v

In the shadow of a world lost to time, Kyle and I clung to life like stubborn lichen on ancient rocks. Our refuge was a mysterious implant—its origins shrouded in enigma. We dubbed it "The Implant," a name that conveyed both reverence and bafflement. It had sustained us for two harrowing days, its silent guidance steering us away from the gaping maws of extinction.

Kyle, the pragmatic one, assigned tasks. He set about constructing a rudimentary campsite—a fragile haven against the primordial wilderness. Meanwhile, my duty was to forage for sustenance. The nearby river promised salvation in the form of fish—slippery, elusive creatures that danced through murky waters.

Perched on a moss-covered boulder, I balanced precariously, my spear poised for the hunt. The sun, weary from its eternal journey, dipped below the horizon, casting elongated shadows across the water. Squinting against the fading light, I wondered if Kyle had anticipated this twilight challenge. Perhaps he had, for he was a man of foresight.

Patience became my mantra. I couldn't chase the fish; I had to lure them to me. Their forms emerged—strange and otherworldly. These were no ordinary fish; they bore the weight of epochs. Their scales resembled ancient armor plates, each one etched with the scars of eons. Their eyes, a haunting shade of blue, held secrets older than memory. And their fins—majestic and unwieldy—propelled them through time's murky currents.

I waited, my heartbeat in sync with the river's gentle rhythm. Closer they came, drawn by some primal instinct. The water shimmered, revealing their contours—their existence teetering on the edge of myth and reality. Then, with the precision of a seasoned hunter, I struck. My spear sliced through water, impaling one of these prehistoric marvels.

"Haha! I got it!" I exulted, lifting the fish high. Victory surged within me, a primal triumph echoing through my veins. But fate, capricious as ever, had other plans. A rustling in the underbrush—a sound that transcended millennia—pierced the air. A small dinosaur, its feathers iridescent in the fading light, lunged at my prize. Its shriek reverberated through the ages, a lament for lost meals and thwarted survival.

The fish slipped from my grasp, torn away by a creature that had witnessed epochs unfold. Startled and heart pounding, I yelled and stumbled backward. It looked back at me with menace; its bright and glowing yellow eyes peered through my living soul. Then it growled, a primal sound that echoed in the dark, chilling me to the core.

As the dinosaur retreated into the foliage, I stood there, spear useless, my moment of triumph devoured by the jaws of time. Kyle would have a hearty laugh when he heard this tale—the fish that slipped through my fingers, stolen by a relic of the past.

The woven basket sagged under the weight of my catch—slippery, wriggling fish that promised sustenance. I let out a sigh of relief; hunger gnawed at my insides, and the thought of another meal was a lifeline in this primeval wilderness. But survival was a fickle companion, and I knew better than to celebrate prematurely.

Kyle awaited my return at our makeshift campsite. His hands, calloused from days of labor, had woven together a fragile sanctuary. Tents of fiber and hide stood like sentinels against the ancient night. As I approached, Kyle glanced up from the campfire, its flickering flames casting shadows on his face.

"Yo!" I announced my presence, my voice echoing through the prehistoric air. Kyle turned, his eyes weary but alive. He waved, a silent acknowledgment of our shared struggle.

He walked toward a towering tree—the behemoth that had become our ally. Its bark, thick and gnarled, held the promise of shelter. "I have the fish," I told him, setting down the basket next to the fire. I slipped into one of the tents, its interior a cocoon of safety. "Just pick any tent," Kyle's voice followed me, "it doesn't matter which one."