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The moon hung like a silver sickle over the jungle, casting long, jagged shadows across the camp.
In the center of this cold light, Princess Vanessa lay asleep.
She wasn't in a soft pavilion or atop a cushioned carriage; she was resting on the "stony grasses"—the sharp, mineral-laced stalks of the outskirts that were known to cut the skin of commoners.
The sight made Dreleon's blood boil.
Ignoring the agonizing hollowness in his chest where his soul-clone had once resided, and the throbbing ache of a body that had just clawed its way out of a grave, he stood up.
His presence was like a sudden drop in temperature.
Who... his voice was a raspy, guttural snarl, vibrating with a killing intent so thick it felt like a physical weight.
"Who made Her Highness sleep on the stony grasses in the open sky?"
The soldiers nearby flinched, their hands instinctively flying to their weapons.
Just then, a massive figure stepped into the moonlight.
It was a high-ranking officer of the Jungle Lion tribe, clad in heavy, golden-red plated armor that shimmered like cooling lava.
The soldier instead of backing down.
He stepped into Dreleons space, his own voice heavy and vibrant.
"Do you think anyone else is responsible for Her Highness's current situation?" His tone shifted into a sharp, biting anger.
"Do you truly not know, or are you just pretending to be thick-skulled?
It was you, human.
You slaughtered a merchant in the presence of the Alliance.
You drew blood at their very headquarters and crippled their executioner.
Because of your arrogance, they treat us all as enemies of the state.
We are lucky they didn't execute the entire unit on the spot."
Dreleon didn't blink.
He stepped closer, the golden light in his eyes flickering like a dying star.
"That tiger was at fault.
He insulted the bloodline of the Jungle Lion.
I killed him because he was begging for death himself.
And that insane executioner?" Dreleon scoffed, a sound like grinding stone.
"He was mad enough to aim a strike toward the Princess's vicinity.
I merely delivered the royal punishment he earned."
"Hmph!"
The armored lion turned away in pure annoyance, the plates of his suit clanking.
"That is why your corpse was left for us to haul away instead of being ground into the dirt.
If the Lion King himself hadn't interfered through diplomatic channels, not even your ashes would remain for the wind to carry.
You are being a liability to us , not a guard of Princess."
"Ummm... Dreleon?
Is that really you?"
The voice was soft, filled with a rare, fragile disbelief.
Both men froze.
Vanessa was sitting up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
The ruthless, tyrannical princess looked, for a brief second, like a lost child in the moonlight.
"Your Highness," Dreleon said instantly.
His anger vanished, replaced by the rigid discipline of a servant.
He moved with a half-step forward, his hand pressing against his heart as he bowed his head at a perfect forty-five-degree angle.
Vanessa stared at him for a moment, then a wide, bright smile broke across her face, a smile so genuine it seemed to ignore the fact that they were fugitives sleeping in the dirt.
"Hahaha!
Good!
Now that youre back from the dead, let me tell you the news!" she said, her voice bubbling with excitement.
She didn't ask how he survived.
She didn't offer him a place to sit.
She simply pivoted back to the only thing that mattered to her: the hunt.
Dreleon watched her, a sense of quiet awe washing over him.
As expected of Her Highness, he thought.
She does not waste a single heartbeat on self-pity or the discomfort of the grass.
Her eyes are already on the horizon.
"We received the report regarding the competition," she continued, her eyes sparkling.
"You won't believe it—the target has been announced.
We are going to hunt the Shadow!"
Dreleon stared blankly.
The name carried a weight he couldn't quite identify.
"I know, you must be confused about the Shadow Tribe," she said, seeing his silence.
She began to pace across the stony grass, her Cerulean dress fluttering.
"The Shadow Tribe... the name suggests they control the dark, but their true nature is far more twisted.
They are an insane organization—a cult of mutants that involves the outcasts of both the human and animal kingdoms."
Her voice grew colder, more analytical.
"Their true ability isn't shadow manipulation; it is extreme mutation.
They possess specific, twisted abilities unique to each individual.
In the past, they grew too bold.
They tried to experiment on human and animal royals, attempting to steal our bloodlines.
For that crime, they were hunted and exterminated completely.
Or so the world thought."
She leaned in closer, the moonlight reflecting in her pupils.
"There are remains of them hiding in the dark corners of the world.
For this hunt, the Alliance has gathered these survivors and released them into the dense jungles surrounding the Bug River.
Theyve fenced them in so we don't have to scour the whole world to find them.
It's like a slaughterhouse, Dreleon.
And we are the butchers." While talking she had a smile that gave chills to even Dreleon.
The lion officer in the golden-red armor stepped forward, his eyes narrowed.
"Your Highness, what are your orders?
How do we proceed?
Dreleon noted the officer's armor markings and the red sigils indicated a high military post.
This wasn't just a soldier; it was a commander.
The air grew cold and the darkness seemed to press in on the campfire.
Vanessa looked toward the direction of the Bug River, her expression shifting.
The "happy girl" disappeared, replaced by the Predator of the Jungle Lion Tribe.
She let out a smile, one so cruel and sharp that it seemed physically impossible for a human face to produce.
"The competition officially begins in one week," she whispered, her voice like a knife.
"But to eliminate the competition, other royals will surely attempt assassinations before we even reach the water.
Therefore, we will not take the main roads.
We have to move toward the Bug River stealthily.
In a way…, the competition has already started."
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