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In the deepest veins of the jungle, paths were not made artificially; instead they were carved by the passage of time and ancient things.
This was a wild realm where nature's true predators reigned—creatures so ancient and massive that even kings would be swallowed in a single gulp.
Above, the canopy was so dense that the sun was a forgotten myth, leaving the forest floor in a state of eternal, humid twilight.
Hidden within a thicket of razor-edged ferns, a group of beasts lay in wait.
They were the hunters in the jungle, waiting for their prey to stumble into the elaborate network of trip-wires and pit-traps they had meticulously set.
"Moris, be honest," a fierce tiger-kin whispered, his hand hovering over a heavy claymore.
"Do you truly believe the target will take this path?
It's suicide for a royal convoy."
"Patience, Samuel," a serpent-kin named Moris hissed, his tongue flickering to catch the scent of fear in the air.
"The Sky Tiger clan has put a bounty of 200,000 crystals on the Princess's failure.
They have no choice but to take the secret paths.
Besides, I've already bribed a soldier within their own ranks.
The intelligence is solid."
"But boss," a small mole-kin in dark green fatigues stammered.
"I heard this is the Jungle Lion Princess.
If we fail, the retaliation will be..."
"Don't worry," Samuel the Tiger snapped.
"My Sky Tiger tribe is not inferior to those lions.
You can take the crystals, and then disappear."
The group continued to bicker, their greed blinding them to the world around them.
They failed to notice the sudden silence of the insects.
They failed to notice the temperature dropping.
And they failed to notice the air itself beginning to ripple like disturbed water.
One by one, their voices were silenced.
No screams echoed.
No blood hit the leaves.
They simply ceased to exist, harvested by a shadow that moved faster than the eye could track.
Dreleon stepped over the last of the bodies, his breath coming in a sharp wave.
He wiped a streak of dark blood from his wooden blade.
"Hah... how is this path secretive?" he muttered to the empty air.
He looked back the way he had come.
This was the fifteenth group he had slaughtered today, and he was only halfway through the perimeter.
One encounter had involved twenty-five high-level beings at once—a battle so fierce that if he hadn't mastered the spatial techniques of the First Pillar, he would have been a corpse decorating the roots.
Just as he prepared to move toward the next target his Instinct pricked up, his intuition screamed.
Instead of a soft "tingle"—it was a violent jolt of pure survival instinct, like a thundering roar in mind.
He threw himself backward a split second before a blade of compressed wind shrieked through the air.
The attack struck a tree behind him—a titanic wood thick enough to be a small building—and sliced through it as if it were wet paper.
Dreleon turned his head, his golden eyes narrowing.
Standing on a mossy bough was a Crane of staggering, ethereal beauty.
Its plumage was the color of starlight, and its presence was so pure it made Dreleon's heart shake with an involuntary tremor of awe.
He forced his mind into a state of cold focus, preparing for the fight of his life.
"Who are you?" Unexpectedly, Crane asked a question.
Its voice was melodic, sounding more like a flute than an animal's cry.
"I am Dreleon of the Jungle Lion tribe," he replied, his voice raspy with exhaustion.
He didn't want to engage in conversation, but the pressure radiating from the bird was immense.
To protect his pride, he threw a question back.
"And who are you?"
The Crane moved with a grace that felt like a dance, folding its wings and tilting its head.
It ignored his question entirely.
Focusing on the small, hidden pocket within Dreleon's gear—the place where the "insect" was hidden.
"The little food you are carrying... I want it," the Crane said simply.
"Food?" Dreleon's hand tightened on his hilt.
"I carry no food for a bird.
Move aside, or we have to fight."
"That little insect you carry," the Crane countered, its eyes flashing with a predatory hunger.
"It is a delicacy among my kind.
I have heard the old ones brag of its unique, intoxicating taste for centuries.
Now that I have caught the scent, I will not let it pass.
And do not think I am sparing you, little one; I simply do not want to sully the food with the stench of your common blood before I dine."
Dreleon didn't wait for another word.
He channeled his Spatial Perception, attempting to lock onto the Crane's coordinates to trigger a spatial collapse.
To his horror, the Crane was like a ghost.
His perception swept over the branch, but it found nothing—no heartbeat, no heat, no mass.
He switched tactics, focusing his physical sight to manually lock the space around the bird.
But the Crane moved as if the concept of space was a toy.
It took a single step, and the reality between them twisted.
Suddenly, the "Beautiful Crane" was near him, almost touching his body.
But instead of the normal crane he just saw, In its place stood a monstrosity of divine power.
The bird's eyes turned a toxic, glowing green, and its wings began emitting a thick, emerald mist that smelled of ozone and ancient earth.
Its beak shifted into a metallic golden-green, and a blinding white halo erupted from its feathers, illuminating the dark jungle with a terrifying, holy light.
Dreleon felt the small snake in his pocket stir—a frantic, rhythmic pulsing that suggested it knew exactly what was about to happen.
"You want it?" Dreleon suddenly understood, but became more angry instead of fearing, his Ant Genes vibrating his muscles to the point of pain.
"Then come and take it from a dead man's hand!"
The space between them shattered as the golden-green beak of the crane lunged forward, moving faster than the speed of sound.
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