The mangrove still smoked from the wreckage. Arian crouched beside it, scanning the ground.The forest floor was disturbed — not by animals, but by boots. Heavy ones.
The guardian padded closer, sniffing the soil.
"They moved in numbers. Five… no, six men. Recently."
Arian's eyes followed the trail. The prints were deep, weighted. These weren't scouts — they were carrying something heavy.Or someone.
They followed the signs deeper into the forest.The air grew colder, unnaturally so, and the lush greenery gave way to charred stumps and blackened soil. It was as if fire had walked here, not long ago.
Arian knelt beside a patch of ground where the ashes were still warm. He touched them and winced — not just heat, but something else.A memory.A scream.The smell of blood mixing with smoke.
The guardian's voice dropped.
"This is their hunting ground."
Then they saw it — the remains of a wooden structure, collapsed and burned. Around it, bones scattered in the dirt, some animal… some not.
Arian's pulse quickened. He saw something glinting among the debris.He picked it up — a broken silver locket. Inside was a photograph of a young girl, smiling.His chest tightened.
"They took her…" he muttered.
The guardian's ears twitched.
"And they left us a trail."
From the burnt clearing, a path stretched into the shadows — marked by symbols carved into trees, crude but deliberate.A warning, or an invitation.
Either way, Arian stepped forward.The path of ash and bones had begun.
The deeper they went, the more the forest seemed to close in on them.The air was thick with the scent of decay, and every step crunched on brittle remains buried under the soil.
The symbols carved into the trees began to change — from simple lines and circles into more intricate patterns, almost like twisted faces screaming in silence.
Arian slowed his pace.
"These aren't just markers," he said. "They're… warnings."
The guardian growled low.
"Or they're trying to scare off anyone who isn't supposed to find them."
They moved in silence for another hundred meters before the first trap sprang.A sudden snap above — and a net made of steel cable shot upward, yanking both of them into the air. The cables bit into Arian's arms before he could react.
"Not exactly welcoming," Arian muttered through clenched teeth.
From the underbrush, shapes emerged.Men in tactical black, faces hidden behind masks painted with skulls. They carried rifles, but they didn't aim to shoot. Instead, they circled like predators closing in on a kill.
One of them stepped forward — taller than the rest, his mask bearing a crimson jawbone.
"The White Tiger," he said, his voice deep and accented. "The elders will be pleased."
Arian's tiger eyes flashed for a moment.
"Tell your elders I'm not in the mood to be a gift."
With a surge of strength, he flexed, muscles tearing against the steel cables. The guardian twisted in the net beside him, claws sawing through the strands.
The masked man raised his hand — a signal.More shadows moved in from the trees.
This wasn't a patrol.It was a hunt.
And Arian had just stepped into their den.
The steel cables groaned as Arian's pulse quickened. His breath came slow, controlled — but the thing inside him, the White Tiger, was pacing like a caged predator.
Break them. Tear them apart.
The guardian's voice was low, almost a whisper.
"Don't… let it out too far."
Arian smirked despite the situation.
"I'll try not to ruin their day too much."
With a violent twist, he wrenched one arm free, the metal snapping like brittle bone. His boots hit the ground hard, and the force sent a tremor through the soil.
The masked soldiers reacted instantly — rifles snapping up, safeties clicking off.Arian didn't wait. He lunged forward, slamming into the nearest man with enough force to send him crashing into a tree. The crack of ribs was audible.
The guardian dropped beside him, landing on all fours, its massive striped body slamming into two others before they could fire.
Gunfire erupted, deafening in the close space. Sparks burst from ricochets as bullets tore through bark and leaves.
Arian moved like liquid fury — disarming one soldier, twisting the rifle, and using it as a club before hurling it into another attacker.
But then…A hiss cut through the chaos. Not from a human.From the treeline, three massive shapes emerged — beasts wearing collars of black iron, their fur matted with ash. Their eyes glowed an unnatural red.
The lead masked man's voice was almost gleeful.
"Let's see if the White Tiger can survive against its own kind."
The creatures stepped forward, and Arian realized with a sinking feeling — these were not just tigers. They were twisted tigers… corrupted, their scent wrong, their movements jerky, as if something was pulling their strings.
The White Tiger inside him surged against its chains.
Ours. Kill them.
Arian clenched his jaw. This was going to get messy.