Dawn broke over the jungle in a muted glow, the morning light filtered through a haze of clouds and thick green canopy. Humidity clung to everything, leaving droplets of moisture along every leaf and limb, and making the very air an oppressive weight against the skin.

Gaius awoke with the familiar jolt of adrenaline that had become his morning companion since arriving in this damned place. His breathing was sharp, heart thrumming in his chest—as if his body knew, before his mind did, that the day would bring fresh dangers. Beside him, Aera uncurled from her makeshift sleeping spot in the crook of the ridge, carefully checking the newly acquired bandages around her left arm. She'd taken a deep slash from one of those larger reptilian beasts yesterday, but the Aether—and the medical kit they had purchased—helped seal the worst of it.

Darin stirred on the other side of the low-burning embers from last night's fire. The boy had the look of someone who'd lived a year in the span of five days—gaunt, but there was a new grit in his eyes. He no longer wore pure terror on his face with each rustle in the brush; the hunts and that creeping pulse of Aether had hardened him. A few feet away, propped against the ridge's stone wall, Joran dozed fitfully. The old man's complexion was still sallow, but the fever that nearly took his life had receded. A few mouthfuls of that bitter tonic—plus the intangible rush of Aether when he'd slain a wounded beast—had brought him back from the brink.

They set out again not long after dawn, emboldened by the success of the previous day. Each of them now carries a makeshift spear with a stone tip. Aera flexes her bandaged arm every so often, ensuring it won't hinder her. Darin, despite his lean frame, wears the focus of a hunter. Joran still walks with a slight tremor in his legs, but there is strength behind his gaze. Gaius leads them, his battered vambraces strapped tight—ever the warrior of the arena, never fully letting his guard down.

They prowl through the dense underbrush, drawn by scattered signs of reptilian beasts: fresh footprints in the mud and broken ferns. The reptilians they've encountered pose little threat now, falling quickly beneath their coordinated strikes. The group grows confident; with each kill, that cold voice rewards them with another pulse of Aether, weaving new vitality through their bones.

Time passes in a blur of humid heat and stealthy pursuit. The jungle canopy filters out the harshest sunlight, but the sweat on their backs tells them the day is well underway. By noon, they have piled up a dozen kills. Joran breathes easier, his color returning. Even Darin almost cracks a grin at one point, pride sparking in his eyes. For the first time, they feel like they have a real chance in this hostile realm.

But as the afternoon stretches on, and the sun light dimming. The air grows stagnant, and a hush settles over the foliage, as though every living thing is holding its breath. Gaius notices it first—the way the birds have gone silent, the way the jungle's incessant hum seems muted. He signals the others to slow.

They push through a wall of hanging vines and emerge into a narrow clearing. The ground is choked with fallen palm fronds and half-rotted logs. A stifling stillness presses down. Aera opens her mouth to speak but freezes when a rustle of leaves draws every eye to the far end of the clearing.

Three hulking creatures step out from behind a thick cluster of vegetation. They are reptilian, but not like the rest. Their scales look thicker, ridged with bony outgrowths along the spine and arms, and a sharp, primal awareness glints in their eyes. A suffocating aura seems to roll off them—a potent, heavy presence that Gaius instinctively knows comes from a deeper well of Aether.

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Darin sucks in a startled breath. Joran's knuckles whiten on the shaft of his spear. Even Aera stands rooted to the spot for a moment, as if pinned by the beasts' gaze.

Gaius doesn't wait. He brandishes his own spear, barking, "Spread out! Focus on one at a time!" He charges the nearest monster, the largest of the three, hoping to break the group's paralysis.

The creature meets him halfway, claws raking at the air. Gaius drives his stone-tipped spear forward, aiming for the gap between its neck scales—but his weapon is shoved away by the quicker beast. His body moves forward, but he stops himself from going to far. He tries to yank back for another strike, but in a heartbeat, the monster roars and twists, wrenching the spear from his grip and flinging it aside.

Now he's only got his vambraces.

"Fall back!" Darin shouts, but Gaius can't risk turning his back on this thing. The creature lunges, slashing at Gaius' flank. He blocks with a forearm, the battered bronze vambrace screeching under the blow. Sparks fly. Gaius grits his teeth against the jolt of pain radiating through his bones.

The other two beasts crash toward Aera and Darin. Joran tries to intercept but staggers from a heavy swipe that nearly cracks his spear in half. Desperation and fear swirl through the clearing as the newcomers bear down on them, unstoppable as living juggernauts.

Gaius focuses on his own opponent, forcing the rising panic down. He pivots, slamming a vambrace into the creature's jaw. It reels, but only for a second. Another fierce swipe rips the edge of his worn armor, nearly shredding his shoulder. He's forced back, back again, until he stumbles over a root and drops to one knee. The beast snarls, rearing up for a decisive blow.

Then Gaius spots a flicker of motion on the edge of his vision—a blur of black slicing through the clearing. The air seemed to go still again, punctuated by wet crunches. Gaius doesn't have time to look, too busy rolling aside as the hulking reptile's claws tear into the ground where he was kneeling. He lurches up, raising his vambrace in a feeble guard. This is it, a grim voice in his mind warns.

But the killing blow never comes.

Instead, the beast's whole body jerks, eyes bulging with sudden shock. A black-tipped spear bursts through its neck in a spray of dark blood. The monster goes rigid, its roar twisting into a gargle—and then it topples forward with a heavy thud, nearly crushing Gaius as it collapses.

Chest heaving, Gaius staggers upright, vision spinning. Only then does he see the dark-haired man standing over the fallen brute, the spear's wicked blade dripping with gore. Two more of the hulking creatures lie dead behind him, their carcasses splayed on the vine-choked ground. A hush falls—one that seems to suck the breath out of the clearing.

The man steps back from the corpse. His well built upper body visible through the blood staining his skin. Black hair clinging to his forehead, and his face lined with the weariness of someone who's seen too many battles. He looks at Gaius with eyes like polished obsidian, unreadable yet intense. Gaius barely catches his breath, forcing himself not to collapse in front of this newcomer who moves like a living weapon.

The stranger meets his gaze. When he finally speaks, his voice is steady, devoid of arrogance. "You fight well, warrior."

Gaius has no reply. He can only stare, heart still thrashing, as the day's fading light casts the stranger's features in stark relief—black hair, black eyes, a stoic face etched with lines of hardship. His spear is unlike any Gaius has seen: some kind of dark material, reminding him of the sinewy creatures they've been hunting, yet hardened, sturdier than simple skin.

The wind stirs, carrying the scent of blood and earth. Behind Gaius, he hears Aera, Darin, and Joran shifting uncertainly. But none of them dare speak. The man's presence is like the calm after a storm—a dangerous stillness that could vanish or strike again at any moment.

"Who-... Who are you?" came the squeakish voice of Darin.