The forest smoldered.
Trees split and leaned in blackened ruin. The ground shimmered with heat, molten veins running through the soil like dying fire. Smoke rose in slow columns, drifting toward a sky still stained with red light.
At the center of it all, Hunnt stood motionless.
His chest rose and fell slowly, each breath drawn with effort.
The air around him vibrated faintly — a pressure that lingered long after the battle had ended.
For a time, there was no sound.
No roar, no wind. Only the crackle of fading flames and the faint hum of power that refused to die.
Pyro knelt nearby, still trembling. The weight of the moment had not yet left his small frame. He could still feel it — that invisible force pressing against his skin, the echo of something that had nearly drowned him in silence.
He looked up weakly. "Master… it's gone."
Hunnt didn't answer. His gaze stayed on the sky where the creature had vanished.
The clouds shifted slowly, closing around the gap the wyvern had torn through. For a long while, it was as if the world itself refused to believe what had just happened.
Then, from far beyond the horizon, came a distant sound — a strangled, guttural roar. It faded into the clouds and was gone.
The creature had fled.
Not from pain.
Not from defeat.
But from something it couldn't name — something that burned not in flesh, but in instinct.
Hunnt lowered his arms. His gauntlets, cracked and blackened, hung loosely at his sides. The trembling in his hands wasn't from fear but exhaustion.
Pyro dragged himself closer, still half-crouched. "Master… are you…?"
Hunnt's head turned slightly. "Alive," he said softly. His voice carried no strength, only certainty.
He staggered once before catching himself. The earth beneath his boots still felt unsteady — humming faintly with the echo of his unleashed will.
Pyro looked around the clearing, his wide eyes reflecting the desolation. "Everything's gone, nya…"
Hunnt said nothing. His eyes followed the rising smoke. "It'll heal. The land always does."
But even as he spoke, the air trembled again — a pulse so faint it could have been imagination. Pyro felt it first: a ripple that brushed the edge of awareness, stirring something primal and uneasy in his chest.
"Did you feel that, nya?"
Hunnt closed his eyes briefly. "It's not over."
The world around them seemed to hold its breath. Then, far away — beyond the reach of vision — something answered.
A roar in the distance. Then another.
Across mountains and marshes, in caverns and canyons, creatures stirred. Great beasts paused mid-hunt, heads rising toward the burning sky. Claws flexed. Wings trembled. Eyes glowed faintly in the dark.
They felt it — the pulse that had shaken the world. The echo of a will too strong to ignore.
None understood what it was, only that something vast had changed. The balance of their territory had shifted. The air itself carried a new scent — the scent of dominance.
And instinct, older than memory, whispered one truth into every beast that heard it:
A new Apex had awoken.
Back in the clearing, Hunnt stood amid the ruin, unaware of the storm he had set in motion. His breathing slowed, his mind quieting. The last of the pressure faded into the soil, leaving only the faint glow of dying embers.
Pyro watched him, still uneasy. "That… thing you did, Master… it wasn't just strength. The whole world felt it."
Hunnt looked down at his burned hands. The skin beneath the gauntlets ached; his arms still trembled from the strain. "It wasn't something I did," he said quietly. "It was something that… happened."
Pyro tilted his head. "Then what was it, nya?"
Hunnt didn't answer immediately. His gaze wandered to the sky, where clouds of smoke drifted like fading ghosts. "Will," he murmured finally. "Nothing more."
Pyro frowned. "Will can't make monsters run."
Hunnt glanced at him, eyes tired but steady. "Maybe it can — if it burns bright enough."
A faint breeze stirred the ashes, carrying the smell of scorched pine and earth. The air felt lighter now, though beneath it ran a quiet tension — the kind that promised change.
Hunnt turned toward the charred remains of a tree, resting a hand against its trunk. The bark crumbled under his touch. "Let's move," he said softly. "This place isn't done burning."
Pyro pushed himself up with effort, wincing. "Nyaa… you sure you can walk?"
Hunnt gave a faint smile. "Barely. But walking's all we've ever needed."
He took a step forward. The ground beneath his boots hissed where the heat still lingered. Pyro followed close behind, tail dragging.
As they left the clearing, the forest groaned — ancient wood giving way, smoke curling upward in silent farewell.
Far to the east, over ridges and rivers, the ripple of Hunnt's will continued to spread. It passed unseen through the air, across cliffs, lakes, and valleys.
A hunter in the lowlands paused mid-swing, the hairs on his arms rising though he couldn't say why.
In the mountain caves, sleeping wyverns stirred uneasily, eyes flickering open.
And somewhere beyond the edge of the known wilds, a massive silhouette turned its head toward the west, sensing challenge in the air.
No one knew the source.
No one could name it.
But every living thing — beast and man alike — felt the same shiver deep in their bones.
A silent tremor had passed through the world, and the land would never be the same.
Hunnt and Pyro walked on, their shadows stretching long against the dying light.
The hunt was over, but the echo of that moment — that will — lingered far beyond the forest.
They walked until the smoke gave way to twilight mist. The soil beneath their boots cooled from ember to ash. Somewhere in that gray distance, the faint trickle of a stream whispered through the ruin, a reminder that even scorched land remembers how to live.
Hunnt crouched beside the water's edge. Steam curled where the current met his gauntlets, the heat still clinging to metal and skin. He washed the soot away slowly, watching the black water spiral downstream.
Pyro sat nearby, rubbing his paws, his tail flicking lazily. "You scared me, Master. Thought I was gonna melt into fur soup."
Hunnt chuckled softly — the sound tired, human. "You held your ground. That's more than most could've done."
The Palico's ears perked, embarrassed. "Nyaa… still, the air felt heavy, like the world stopped breathing."
Hunnt's expression darkened a little. "Maybe it did. Power like that… it doesn't belong to this world. Not fully."
He looked at his reflection in the water — eyes dimmed but steady, surrounded by smoke and fading flamelight. For a heartbeat, the surface rippled on its own, as if answering his thought.
Somewhere far off, thunder rolled. Not from storm clouds — but from mountains shifting, the distant groan of the world adjusting to a new rhythm.
Pyro's whiskers twitched. "That again…"
Hunnt rose, fastening his gauntlets. "The tremor. The world's remembering that it can fear."
They turned toward the west, where the light thinned into dusk. Behind them, the burnt forest whispered — not in pain, but in warning.
And high above the clouds, where the light of the fire still burned faintly, a single roar answered — not of rage, but of remembrance.
The world had taken notice.
The hunt had changed.
And the name of the one who walked away from that silence… would soon spread like the echo of the tremor itself.