The moonlight shone over the Lake of a Thousand Poisons; it bled with the blood and poison into it.
The silver glow reflected off the stagnant, bubbling water of the swamp, creating a scene of holy beauty that sat atop a foundation of rotting corpses and toxic mush.
For the creature sitting on the high hill overlooking the lake, those stars shining in the night sky; were the only truth left in the world.
Where was the mighty Royal Lion?
Where was the divine heir's pacter to the jungle throne, with his golden fur and proud stature? Or black hair and human tone?
He was gone.
In his place sat a hollowed-out husk.
Dreleon had become a living skeleton, his skin stretched tight over reinforced bones that poked out like jagged stones.
His matted fur was no longer gold; it was stained a sickly, swamp-grey.
He doesn't even dare to change into his human form for fear that when he changes will be the time he dies, without even knowing how.
He didn't know how long he had been here. Was it a year? Two? A million?
The poison he ate to survive had leaked into his mind, melting his memories into a blurry soup. He barely remembered the Turtle or the Snake.
He even forgot he was a human.
Or what was he?
He only knew the Moon.
Dreleon sat with a crude bowl made of a hollowed skull, sipping a liquid that would have melted the insides of a normal beast.
He tilted his head, a crazed, toothy grin splitting his thin face.
"Hehehe..." his voice was a dry rattle, like dead leaves in the wind. "Oh moonlight... Mrs. Shining Bright... Let me take the flight... or I will fight. Hehehe..."
He laughed at his own nonsense until his lungs burned, and then, right there on the cold dirt of the hill, the mad lion fell into a dreamless, toxic sleep.
The next morning, the sun didn't wake him gently, like it was punishing him for eyeing the moon.
It arrived like a physical blow, the heat stinging his sensitive, poisoned skin.
Dreleon woke with a violent jolt, his eyes bloodshot and unfocused.
For a few seconds, he stared at his trembling hands, trying to remember his own name, or at least what happened yesterday?
Then, the hunger arrived—a sharp growl in his gut that demanded a sacrifice.
He scrambled down the hill with a mechanical, eerie speed.
He moved like a predator that had forgotten its dignity.
Deep in the thickest part of the swamp, a poisonous viper hissed, its body thick with venom.
If it was In his past, Dreleon would have used a spatial technique or a grand punch.
Now? He simply swung a claw.
Swish.
The snake was severed in a single, practiced motion; like he has repeatedly killed many with the same precision.
He didn't cook it, nor clean it.
He began to eat, the bitter poison of the snake acting like a spice to his ruined tongue.
This was his life.
He walked.
He killed.
He ate.
As the sun began to set, he collected the black, acidic blood of his prey into his bowl, climbed his hill, which has almost become his sanctuary, and drank his poison wine while watching the first stars appear.
It was a perfect, miserable routine.
A cycle of madness that felt like it would last until the end of time.
Then one day, the cycle broke.
Seeing the sun beginning to go out of home.
Dreleon was heading toward the river, his mind filled with the thought of the moon, when a sensation he hadn't felt in a year spiked through his brain.
It was a cold, electric jolt.
His Instinct.
Before his mind could even process the danger, his head snapped down.
He ducked with a reflex born of a thousand kills.
BOOM.
The air screamed.
A massive tree beside him disintegrated.
Splinters of wood flew like sharp spikes, cutting into Dreleon's scarred shoulders.
He didn't freeze, his blood running wild with survival.
The madness in his brain was replaced by a cold, survivalist clarity.
His instincts screamed again—a second strike was coming from a different angle.
He didn't run.
He jumped toward a hanging vine, his long, jagged claws hooking into the bark.
He swung his skeletal body through the air like a demonic ape, clearing the ground just as a second shockwave hit.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
Five massive ancient trees, lined up like soldiers, were Slashed through by an invisible force, they fell in a synchronized collapse, shaking the surrounding trees and ground alike.
Dreleon hung from the vine, his chest heaving, his heart hammering against his ribs.
He looked at the devastation.
This wasn't a beast.
This wasn't poison.
This was a calculated, high-speed execution.
Something has invaded his territory, his sanctuary.
The Mad lion was no longer laughing, or filled with the thought of the moon.
His golden eyes, hidden behind the grime of the swamp, began to glow with a terrifying, long-forgotten light.
Someone had interrupted his moonlight. And for that, there would be blood.