The air grew thick with tension. From their vantage point, Leo and his tribe watched the Sun-Eater war party emerge from the treeline.
They were a formidable sight—two dozen warriors, their bodies painted in harsh ochre and white stripes, brandishing heavy stone axes and tall spears tipped with vicious, chipped stone. They moved with a swagger that spoke of countless victories.
But Leo just smiled. To him, they weren't warriors, they were a walking Gacha prize.
"Remember the plan," Leo murmured to his hunters, who were gripping their Pigment-marked spears, their knuckles white. "You are the anvil. I am the hammer."
He stepped out into the clearing, alone. He wore his Cloak of the Alpha, the Braid of Allure was visible on his wrist, and the new Boots of the Silent Stalker made his approach eerily quiet. In his hand, he held the Horn of the Dire Wolf.
The Sun-Eater chief, a massive brute with a necklace of large teeth, let out a booming laugh. "You send your witch-doctor to die first? A weak tactic!"
Leo didn't answer. He simply raised the horn to his lips and blew.
The sound that erupted was not loud, but it was wrong. It was a low, guttural snarl that seemed to slither directly into the brain, bypassing the ears to tap into a primal, ancestral fear. It was the sound of the dark forest, of being hunted, of fangs in the night.
[Item Effect Activated: 'Horn of the Dire Wolf'. Fear status applied to Sun-Eater warriors.]
The front line of Sun-Eaters faltered. Their confident swagger vanished, replaced by uneasy glances. The chief's laugh died in his throat.
"Now!" Leo yelled.
His own hunters, bolstered by the Pigment on their spears and the Drum of Minor Inspiration he'd had beaten before the fight, let out a unified roar and charged. They weren't fearless, but their fear was overridden by a focused, enhanced aggression.
The two lines of warriors crashed together in a cacophony of grunts, screams, and the crack of stone on bone. Leo watched for a moment, analyzing. His hunters were holding their own, the Pigment and Drum making them fight with unnerving coordination. But the Sun-Eaters were bigger, more experienced. The tide would eventually turn.
It was time for the hammer.
Leo moved. The Boots of the Silent Stalker made him a ghost on the battlefield. He didn't charge; he flowed through the chaos. A Sun-Eater warrior raised an axe to crush one of Leo's hunters. Before the blow could fall, Leo was there. He didn't bother with a weapon. He simply grabbed the warrior's arm.
The man screamed. The sound wasn't of pain, but of shock. The crushing grip of Leo's new strength made the bones in his forearm feel like dry twigs. Leo yanked him off his feet and threw him bodily into two of his comrades, sending all three tumbling like skittles.
"Oh, this is fun," Leo thought, a laugh bubbling in his chest.
He became a whirlwind of destruction. He caught a spear thrust aimed at his chest and snapped the shaft like a toothpick. He drove his fist into a warrior's stomach, and the man folded like a sack of rocks, all the air leaving his body in a whoosh. He was a demigod let loose among mortals.
The Sun-Eater chief realized the true threat. With a bellow of rage, he charged, his massive stone axe swinging in a deadly arc meant to cleave Leo in two.
Leo didn't dodge. He met the charge.
He stepped inside the axe's swing, the Cloak of the Alpha flaring around him, making him seem larger, more dominant. He caught the chief's descending wrist, stopping the deadly blow cold. The shock on the chief's face was priceless. He strained, his massive muscles bulging, but he couldn't move his arm an inch. Leo's grip was like a mountain.
"Not so tough without your little gang, are you?" Leo sneered.
With a casual twist, he dislocated the chief's shoulder with a sickening pop. The axe fell from nerveless fingers. Leo then delivered a short, sharp punch to the chief's jaw. It wasn't a wild swing; it was a precise, brutal application of his Tier-1 Superhuman Strength. The chief's eyes rolled back in his head, and he collapsed, unconscious.
The battle froze. The Sun-Eaters stared in horror at their defeated, broken leader. Their will to fight shattered completely.
Leo stood over the chief's body, not even winded. He looked at the terrified remnants of the war party.
"Kneel," he commanded, his voice echoing with the authority of his cloak and his overwhelming power.
One by one, they dropped their weapons and knelt in the dirt.
[Conquest Achieved: Subjugation of the Sun-Eater War Party!]
[Gacha Points Awarded: 1000!]
[New Title Unlocked: 'Tribe-Breaker' - Your reputation now precedes you. Future intimidation checks against other tribes have a significantly higher chance of success.]
As his tribesmen began to round up the prisoners, Leo's eyes, as always, scanned for the real prizes. Among the Sun-Eater camp followers who had been watching from the treeline, he saw several women. They were taller, their hair braided with feathers and bones, their expressions a mix of fear and fierce pride. One, in particular, a woman with a scar across her cheek and the eyes of a hawk, met his gaze without flinching.
"Oh, yes," Leo thought, a familiar, perverted thrill coursing through him. The 1000 points were nice, the title was great, but this... this was the real reward. A new type of woman to conquer. A proud, warrior woman from a rival tribe. Breaking her would be a delight.
He walked over to the hawk-eyed woman, the Tribe-Breaker title making the other Sun-Eaters shrink back from his path.
"You," he said, his voice a low purr. "You have spirit. I like that. The spirits have told me you are to be my personal... guest."
He reached out and traced the line of her scar with a finger. She didn't pull away, but her body went rigid, her eyes burning with a hatred that only excited him more.