The battlefield was quiet.
Once a place of roaring winds, thunderous howls, snapping webs, and claw against claw, now it lay broken and still. The ground bore scars like open wounds—torn earth, shattered trees, deep craters, and trails of blood black as ink.
And in the midst of that broken land, four titans of the forest lay sprawled in exhaustion.
The Mother Spider, her once-glistening carapace cracked and leaking dark ichor, twitched feebly with her eight legs, unable to lift her colossal body. The Rift Howler, whose fangs had rattled the night with destructive resonance, lay flat, its chest rising and falling shallowly. The other two predators, equally terrifying in their own right—a hulking Behemoth with scales harder than iron, and Serpent whose body stretched across the trees like a lightning-wreathed river—were reduced to the same pitiful state.
All four had been proud rulers of their domains. But tonight, they had been crushed.
Standing amidst them was a boy, his hair matted with dirt and blood, eyes cold yet steady—Om. Beside him towered the lion whose presence had shifted the balance of the forest, the majestic Dawon. His mane glowed faintly under the moonlight, strands catching the pale glow, and the golden Sanskrit inscriptions that now wrapped his claws and fangs seemed alive, pulsing like the heartbeat of some forgotten god.
The forest did not roar anymore.
It bowed.
"Master," Zero's mechanical voice finally broke the silence.
[Based on current data, recommendation: do not eliminate these apex predators.]
[Instead, consider converting them into subordinates for Dawon.]
[Analysis—this preserves the eco-systemic hierarchy of the Rift Forest.]
Om stood still, catching his breath, wiping a streak of blood from his cheek. His arm trembled slightly, not from weakness, but from the aftershock of channeling so much power in such a short span.
He glanced at the four beasts. All of them, despite their wounds, did not resist. Their massive eyes—filled with primal rage when the battle began—were now dimmed, lowered in a strange reverence.
Om raised a brow. "Subordinates, huh?"
Zero continued, tone flat but certain.
[Yes. Dawon now possesses an ability akin to absolute submission of weaker beasts. These creatures, having been defeated in direct combat, instinctively recognize Dawon as their superior. Their bowing is proof.]
Om exhaled slowly, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "So they've already made their choice."
Indeed, the four predators had lowered their heads. Even the Mother Spider, who had fought ferociously, her legs tucked inward in what looked disturbingly like obedience. The Rift Howler whimpered softly, ears flattened. The Behemoth and the Serpent coiled in submission.
Dawon let out a low growl, not of warning, but of acknowledgment. His eyes glowed faintly golden, and the Sanskrit inscriptions on his claws pulsed. The air shifted—an unseen force, primal and commanding, pressed over the battlefield. And in response, all four apex predators trembled, then sank lower into the dirt.
Om sighed. "So, even if I wanted to let them go, they've already bound themselves."
He sat down on a broken boulder, stretching his arms with a tired grunt. His body ached everywhere, but there was a strange lightness in his chest.
"Zero," he said, staring at the subdued beasts,
"take a guess. What does this mean for us? For our strength?"
Zero hummed for a moment, calculations flashing in its tone.
[Based on combat records, physical output, and your recent victories….]
[Hypothesis: By defeating four apex-class predators simultaneously, you and Dawon have likely reached the equivalent of Rathi-tier combatants.]
Om blinked, then chuckled bitterly. "Rathi, huh?"
The term carried weight. Warriors of the Rathi level were considered the backbone of armies, strong enough to carve through hundreds of soldiers, wielders of techniques that could shift small battles by themselves. For a boy once called weak, cursed, and burdened with a broken inheritance… this was no small step.
But Zero wasn't finished.
[Correction.]
[If you were to defeat approximately eight more apex-class predators of equal tier together with them, your combined strength may approach or rival that of an Ati-Rathi.]
Om let out a short laugh, shaking his head.
"Ati-Rathi? You're overshooting, Zero. That's a long road ahead. I've barely figured out how to use what I already have without breaking myself."
He looked at Dawon, who sat proudly beside him, mane glowing faintly as the inscriptions continued to spread across his body. A partner born weak, scarred, mocked, now standing as a beast that commanded the forest itself.
Om's smile softened. "…But maybe with him by my side, it's not impossible. Survival, at least, isn't a dream anymore."
.
.
.
.
Om stood, brushing dust off his ragged clothes, and faced Dawon.
"Let them go," he said firmly. "We've won. They'll remember it. When the time comes—when we're stronger—we'll summon them again. Until then, let them grow, let them rule their parts of the forest. We don't need slaves. We need… allies."
Dawon blinked his golden eyes, as if pondering his master's words. Then, with a deep rumbling roar, he released his hold.
The inscriptions on his claws dimmed, and the invisible pressure lifted from the battlefield.
One by one, the apex predators stirred. The Mother Spider slowly raised her body and scuttled back into the shadows, vanishing into the treeline. The Rift Howler stood, shook its fur, and disappeared into a rift of its own. The Behemoth lumbered away, the ground trembling with each step. The Serpent uncoiled and slid into the forest, its lightning glow fading among the trees.
None of them looked back. Yet Om could feel it—an invisible tether had been tied tonight.
They would return.
.
.
.
.
As silence reclaimed the forest, Om exhaled, shoulders finally relaxing. He turned to Dawon with a grin.
"Well, partner," he said, "I think we just made ourselves a little too popular."
Dawon huffed, a playful growl vibrating in his chest.
Om laughed under his breath. "Rathi-tier… Ati-Rathi someday… Who knows? But one thing's clear. As long as we're together, we'll survive whatever this world throws at us."
And so, beneath the pale moonlight of the Forest, boy and beast walked away from the battlefield, side by side, their path forward uncertain yet burning with a newfound confidence.
The predators of the night watched from afar, not daring to strike. For in this forest, a new king had risen—and his name was Dawon.
And beside him, the cursed child of fate, Om, who was no longer as weak as he once believed.