Erina Nakiri absorbed Zed's explanation, her upbringing in the cutthroat Nakiri Family allow her to understand more clearly. Even her family, a culinary dynasty, had danced to the tune of allies and vassals. IGO, who is tasked with global stability, faced far thornier compromises.
Below the observation deck, the arena erupted as beasts clashed—Giant Armored Hogs ramming Venom Fang Serpents, their roars muffled by reinforced glass. The crowd, a mosaic of opulent gowns and tailored suits, cheered as if watching a gourmet cooking show.
Then the final gate lifted.
A hush fell.
The creature that prowled into the light stood lean and lupine, its fur silver as moonlit steel. Toriko shot upright, fists clenched. "A Battle Wolf? You're throwing that into the pit?"
Mansam raised a placating hand. "Cloned from salvaged cells. Defective—nowhere near its Gourmet World kin."
Zed's gaze narrowed. The wolf's muscles twitched with unnatural spasms, its left eye milky with cataracts. IGO's hubris astounded him—toying with the Second Continent's apex predators was akin to juggling live nuclear bomb.
"You stopped the project?" Zed asked, noting the wolf's jagged, mismatched fangs.
"After this one," Mansam admitted. "Even clones inherit their pride. Making it untamable."
The Battle Wolf suddenly froze, nostrils flaring. Its remaining amber eye locked onto Tatsu, who'd coiled protectively around Erina and Hisako. A low, shuddering whine escaped the wolf—fear, primal and unmistakable.
Tatsu's horns crackled with static, the air thickening as scales rippled like storm-churned waves.
Zed's mind raced. The Battle Wolf's fear made no sense—their auras were masked, the arena reeked of blood and sweat, yet its amber eye fixated on their group. Then it struck him: Tatsu's scent. Lingering on their clothes, subtle yet primal, it carried the musk of a predator far beyond this clone's frayed instincts.
Below, the Battle Wolf stood motionless as a Giant Armored Hog sank tusks into its flank. Toriko's roar split the air before his fist did, shattering the arena's fortified glass. He lunged, Nail Punches pummeling the hog into unconsciousness.
"Toriko, you reckless—!" Mansam surged to his feet, but Zed's voice cut through the chaos.
"It's pregnant," he said, calm slicing through the bedlam. "Using every ounce of energy to nurture its cub. It won't fight back."
The wolf collapsed, ribs heaving, as Toriko knelt beside it. A faint whimper echoed from its belly—proof of Zed's claim.
Mansam paled. "Parthenogenesis… Gourmet Cells bypassing natural law. But cloning already defied—"
A thunderous crack interrupted him. Toriko's fist had spiderwebbed the remaining glass, adrenaline overriding restraint. The crowd erupted into panic, IGO guards herding them toward exits.
Zed approached the wolf. His Saiseiya senses confirmed its rapid decline. Even unassisted, its lifespan dwindled—a candle guttering in a storm. Maternal sacrifice, etched in trembling limbs and labored breaths, transcended species.
Tatsu slithered closer, scales brushing Zed's arm. The wolf's eye widened, a shudder rippling through its frame, but defiance flickered—a mother's resolve, even in the face of ancestral dread.
"We'll protect the cub," Toriko growled, cradling the wolf's head.
Mansam sighed, resignation weighing his shoulders. "Another mess to clean. But… do it quickly."