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The gates of the secured perimeter of Bug River groaned, a sound like a dying titan giving its final breath.
As the massive obsidian slabs parted, a gust of cold, wet air rushed out, carrying the scent of rotting vegetation and something metallic—the smell of ancient, stagnant blood.
Dreleon paused on the threshold, his golden eyes flickering back toward the assembly ground.
The carnage was still in full swing.
He watched a Golden Lion casually lick its paws, standing over the mangled remains of the Mite Ant team.
The ants, despite their numbers and their Origin partner, had been crushed as if they were nothing more than a nuisance.
A cold realization settled in Dreleon's gut.
The host had promised safety to those with Origin partners.
It was a lie.
The "Deer Tribe," the "Water Fairies," and the "Horned Rabbits" had all followed the rules, yet they were being hunted in the light of day while the host watched with a smirk.
Predators never trust another Predator, the old saying echoed in his mind.
The rule wasn't meant to protect us.
It was meant to entice us into a trap where we are all served on the same plate.
He looked up at the sky, where the invisible speaker's laughter still seemed to vibrate.
Are the Lions and Tigers truly the hunters? he wondered.
Or are we all just premium livestock being herded into this river for a higher being's banquet?
"Move, Dreleon," Vanessa's voice snapped him back to the present.
She didn't look back at the blood.
To her, the weak who had died were already forgotten.
Her eyes were fixed on the black water ahead.
"The mist is rising. If we stay here, we are just stationary targets."
…
As they crossed the threshold into the river's domain, the "team" Vanessa had assembled began to take physical shape in the dimming light.
Dreleon watched them, his eyes scanning the strange, mystical anatomy of their new allies.
The Water Fairies were the most jarring to look at.
They were not solid beings of flesh and bone, but fluid entities that seemed to be sculpted from the very river they inhabited.
They lacked a fixed shape, instead mimicking the silhouettes of the predators that had long hunted them.
One resembled a lion, its mane a crashing wave of translucent blue; another took the form of a rabbit, its liquid ears rippling with every movement.
They were living, breathing water, their transparent bodies refracting the faint light of the jungle like haunted prisms.
And one being among them who has reached the origin was shining with faint blue light.
Beside them, the Deer Clan stood with a rigid, tragic dignity.
Their fur was a deep, earthen brown, but it was their antlers that commanded attention.
Evolution had not gifted them with simple bones, but with organic tools of war.
Some bore antlers that curved into wickedly sharp blades, serrated and gleaming like forged steel—the "Sword-Antlers."
Others possessed thin, branched arrays that hummed with a low-frequency vibration—the "Antenna-Antlers"—which acted as a living radar, catching the whispers of the wind before any predator could get close.
Then there were the Horned Rabbits.
Their skin was a soft, swirling mixture of pink and white, looking deceptively fragile.
But from the center of their foreheads sprouted a single, crystalline horn.
These horns were the barometers of their power.
The commoners bore white or pale yellow horns, while the elite guards shimmered with gold or deep purple.
But at the very front of the rabbit group stood their leader, possessing a horn of deepest Royal Red—a color that signaled a bloodline capable of piercing through even the toughest predator's hide.
Vanessa stopped at the edge of the black water, her Cerulean robe fluttering in the chill wind.
She turned to the gathered mass of "prey," her eyes cold and devoid of the "mercy" they might have expected.
"Listen well," Vanessa's voice rang out, sharp enough to cut through the thickening mist.
"You are no longer refugees, instead I will treat you as if you are a unit.
I have bought your lives, and now I intend to use them."
She pointed toward the Deer Clan.
"You will be the front.
Your Sword-Antlers will form a perimeter of bone.
You are our Meat Shield.
If anything lunges from the dark, you are the first wall they must break."
The Deer Elder bowed his head, his Antenna-Antlers twitching in submission.
He knew the cost of his people's safety was to be the first to bleed.
"The Rabbit Clan," Vanessa continued, her gaze shifting to the Royal Red horn.
"Your speed and your senses are your only value.
You will be our Scouts.
You will spread into the tall grass and the twisted roots.
If a shadow twitches, I want a signal before it becomes a threat."
Finally, she looked at the fluid, shifting forms of the Water Fairies.
"And you, you are the Support.
You will move within the water and the mist itself.
You will hide our scent, mask our footsteps, and provide the platform upon which we fight.
If we fall into the river, you are the only thing keeping us from the silt."
Dreleon watched the "Prey" organize themselves under Vanessa's iron will.
It was a bizarre sight: a Lion Princess commanding a legion of rabbits, deer, and water spirits.
To the Golden Lions outside, this would look like a joke.
But Dreleon could see the logic.
Vanessa had created a sensory network that covered the land, the air, and the water.
The legion began to move, a strange, multi-colored army disappearing into the grey fog, leaving the carnage of the assembly grounds behind.
The hunt had officially begun, but for the first time, the prey was no longer running.
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