The grassland breathed. Tall, pale-gold grass swayed in slow waves under a sky stretched wide and merciless. The wind carried no scent of water nor a promise of shelter. Only openness, exposure, and death if you weren't careful.
Sel stood alone in it.
His boots were planted firmly, his knees slightly bent, and his bow already in his hand. The string hummed softly under tension, an almost affectionate sound. His quiver was lighter than it should've been after using too many arrows.
He'd stopped counting arrows days ago.
His eyes were calm and collected. The Circle of Mind rotated steadily behind him, invisible but present, sharpening every sound and every vibration in the earth beneath his feet. His thoughts were clean, without panic or excess emotion... just readiness stretched to its limit.
Then... the grass exploded.
The beast, the Eliminator, didn't emerge as it normally does. It arrived!
