The jungle whispered of blood long before it spilled.
SAM had grown used to the sounds of this world — the low chatter of insects, the shrieks of birds, the murmuring rustle of leaves disturbed by life hidden from sight. But this morning was wrong. The jungle wasn't speaking. It was holding its breath.
He stood at the edge of the Shal'Ka village, staring into the dense green that stretched beyond the woven-bark fences. Smoke from the communal fire still drifted lazily overhead, but no children laughed, and no hunters practiced with spears.
Only silence. The kind that comes before a storm — or a predator.
Then the cry came.
A scream. Shrill, high-pitched, and unmistakably human.
"Tek," SAM breathed. He was already running.
The trees blurred past. Thorns tore at his legs, but he didn't feel them. His breath came in shallow gasps, heart pounding louder than the rustling undergrowth.
"Crown," he hissed. "Show me!"
A soft pulse warmed his wrist. The interface flickered briefly across his vision — faint glyphs, unreadable to anyone but him.
[Emergency Detection: Lifeform Distress Nearby. Coordinates Locked.][Threat Class: Apex.][Primitive Defense Protocols: Incomplete – Suggest Evade or Distract.]
Too late for that.
He broke through the treeline, nearly tripping on a root, and saw them.
Tek lay sprawled on the forest floor, his leg pinned beneath a collapsed water basket, face streaked with mud and blood. And before him—towering, rippling with muscle and menace—was a lion.
But not any lion.
It was enormous. At least four feet tall at the shoulder, with a mane that shimmered like black steel, tangled with vines and leaves. Its fangs jutted outward like carved ivory daggers, and its eyes—its eyes were wrong. They glowed faint red. Not rage. Not hunger. Something… more.
Altered.
SAM didn't hesitate.
"HEY!" he shouted, grabbing a jagged stone and hurling it.
The stone bounced uselessly off the beast's side, but it turned, eyes locking on him.
SAM stepped forward, slow and deliberate, arms spread wide. "You want something to eat? Try me."
The lion snarled — deep, guttural, ancient.
And it charged.
Time fractured.
In his head, calculations surged. The weight of the lion. The terrain slope. The distance. No weapons. No help. And Tek still crawling, dragging his bleeding leg toward a root.
Then the Crown pulsed again.
[Primitive Tech Blueprint Suggestion: Ignition Trap – Improvised Variant.]
SAM's eyes darted to his belt — flint striker, dry moss pouch, two gourds filled with fermented tree sap. Crude alcohol, once meant for sterilizing wounds. Now?
Fire.
He dropped to his knees, fingers moving faster than fear. Flint sparked. Moss lit. He jammed it into the first gourd's soaked cloth fuse, counted to two, and hurled it.
The gourd arced and shattered against the jungle floor — a bloom of fire erupted just as the lion lunged.
It screamed — not in pain, but in fury — staggering through the flames, its mane catching, hissing and smoking.
SAM lit the second gourd. "BACK OFF!" he shouted, and threw it directly at the beast's face.
It connected.
Fire surged across its head and shoulders. The lion roared and stumbled backward, finally turning and vanishing into the undergrowth, crashing through the forest like a falling tree.
Silence returned.
The jungle breathed again.
SAM rushed to Tek, falling to his knees beside him.
"Kid! Talk to me!" he said, cradling the boy.
Tek winced, eyes wide with pain. "My… leg… is on fire."
SAM checked the wound. A deep gash, not fatal. Bone untouched. He tore strips from his tunic, wrapped it tight, and poured the last of the antiseptic alcohol onto it. The boy screamed, then passed out.
SAM held him close, heart still racing. "You'll live," he muttered. "You have to. You're the only one here who still asks questions."
They returned to the village at dusk.
The hunters met them at the gate, weapons drawn — and dropped them as soon as they saw Tek and the soot-streaked burns across SAM's hands.
Karun hobbled forward, eyes wide. "The boy lives. You live. But the beast?"
"Fled," SAM said. "Burning."
The village erupted.
Not in fear — in reverence.
Chants echoed through the trees. "Fireblooded! Fireblooded!" They raised SAM on their shoulders, carried Tek like sacred cargo, and led them to the central hearth where the fire blazed.
SAM wanted to rest. To disappear. But the people wouldn't let him. Not yet.
Karun stood beside the flames, lifting both hands. "Today, our god bled. Today, our god burned. And today, our god saved the heir to flame."
SAM shook his head. "I'm not—"
Karun turned. "You are. And we name you now, as the sun names the dawn."
He raised a torch. "Fireblooded King!"
The tribe roared. Spears clashed. Drums pounded.
SAM stood, too tired to fight the moment.
In the flickering firelight, Tek opened one eye and whispered, "Are you… really a god?"
SAM leaned down, voice soft. "No. I'm a man who remembers how to burn things the right way."
The boy smiled. "That's better."
That night, sleep evaded SAM. He climbed to the hilltop above the village and stared at the stars, legs dangling over the edge of a jagged rock.
The Crown glowed faintly.
[Survival Influence: 18%][Cultural Advancement Threshold Met.][New Tier Unlocked: Defensive Blueprint Fragment – Analyze to Proceed.]
"Fire bought me a seat at the table," he whispered. "But it also painted a target on my back."
He rubbed his hands — blistered, cracked, still smelling of smoke.
A faint breeze carried distant howls from the forest.
Something out there still watched.
And whatever it was… it now knew there was fire in the valley.