That was when I woke up.
My eyes opened slowly, the firelight flickering softly before me. I raised my head, my body heavy with lingering emotion, then covered my face with a paw and buried my head into it.
I couldn't believe it.
Out of all the possible existences—human, beast, monster, anything with dignity—I had been reborn as a stupid little leopard.
I let out a long sigh and lifted my head, staring at the sky as it slowly faded from deep blue into a pale, washed-out white. Dawn was approaching. The world was waking up, while my mind was still reeling from memories that felt far too sharp to be dreams.
I slipped out from the man's arm, careful not to disturb him. The warmth I had borrowed during the night vanished immediately, replaced by the chill of early morning air brushing against my fur. Shaking myself awake, I set off with brisk steps, following the direction etched into my memories.
The huge stone crack.
I ran.
The distance wasn't short—far from it. As my small body darted between rocks and uneven ground, irritation bubbled up inside me.
'How stupid was I back then to wander so far away?'
Each leap and turn felt unnecessarily long, my paws growing sore as the terrain grew rougher. The island wasn't exactly friendly—sharp stones, uneven slopes, and the lingering scent of unknown predators made every step tense. Still, I didn't stop. The memory of those nutrient packs kept pushing me forward.
After what felt like far too long, the familiar crack finally came into view.
Relief washed over me.
I padded closer and peered inside. Just as I remembered, nutrient packs were neatly piled within the crevice, surprisingly untouched by time or scavengers. I stared at them with satisfaction.
"With these…" I muttered inwardly, "…I probably won't have to risk my life hunting for a long while."
For a creature as small and currently powerless as me, this was practically a treasure hoard.
I opened my mouth and carefully picked up several packs, securing them between my teeth. With a flick of my tail, I turned around and began retracing my path, moving more cautiously now that my mouth was full.
The return trip felt shorter—perhaps because my thoughts were elsewhere, already planning how to stash the supplies safely.
Then—
A strange sound cut through the air.
It wasn't wind. Nor was it the cry of some island beast.
It was mechanical.
My steps slowed. My ears pricked up sharply, rotating toward the source. The low, distant hum grew louder, accompanied by a familiar vibration that sent a chill down my spine.
I looked up.
An aircraft.
It sliced through the sky, sleek and unmistakably artificial, descending rapidly. For a brief moment, I froze, my mind blank.
A hint of doubt flashed through my eyes. '…Was it possible? The housekeeper? Did he come back?'
The thought surfaced instinctively, only to be crushed almost immediately. No. The aircraft was far too fast, far too large. And its trajectory—
It wasn't heading toward me.
It was heading toward him.
Toward the place where the man lay by the fire.
My pupils shrank.
The aircraft descended swiftly, its engines roaring as it prepared to land. Panic surged through me. The nutrient packs slipped from my mouth, dropping onto the ground with dull thuds as I dug my claws deep into the earth.
The powerful airflow whipped around me, threatening to send my small body tumbling. I crouched low, muscles tensed, claws gripping the ground as dust and debris swirled violently around me.
"Damn it!" I screamed inwardly, fury and anxiety knotting together in my chest. "Why would it suddenly land here?!"
I stared after the aircraft, my jaw practically hanging open, as several humans jumped out with military-like precision. In a matter of seconds, they had hoisted the man from the ground, strapped him in, and the aircraft rose into the sky. Just like that—it was gone. Blink, and you'd miss it.
I froze. My ears twitched. My tail thumped the ground in disbelief. The nutrient packs I had so carefully carried? Scattered like confetti in the chaos. I barely even noticed as they tumbled across the rocks and grass. For a moment, the world was nothing but blue sky and my own racing thoughts.
I couldn't believe it. My personal heater, my cozy little human-warmth pillow, my makeshift companion—gone. Just like that.
I blinked. Slowly, reality sank in. Well, I didn't need to return to the previous location anymore. The man was gone, and I had to… survive. Again. Great. Fantastic. Perfect.
My stomach growled. Half-full last night, starving again today. Typical. I looked down at the scattered packs, sighing at my misfortune. Only one remained, precariously lodged against a jagged rock. With a resigned flick of my tail, I padded over and grabbed it with my teeth.
I tore it open, sniffed it, and…
"Blegh!"
I spat it all out immediately.
"What kind of food is this?" I growled, tail lashing. My whiskers twitched in disgust.
It wasn't bad in the nutritional sense. No, the housekeeper had made sure of that. Balanced vitamins, proteins, minerals—all the things a small leopard like me needed to survive.
But the taste?
Like eating mud mixed with chalk. Every bite was a battle. My tongue recoiled, my stomach churned, and I contemplated whether I could just leave it there and wait for a more civilized meal to magically appear.
After a few moments of heroic struggle—and several more revolted spits—I gave up. There was only one solution: the egg I had buried the night before. My little treasure. My hot, perfectly cooked bird egg, proof that life still had a few small mercies left for me.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Meanwhile, the aircraft hummed steadily along the space route, engines slicing through the thin atmosphere. Inside, the doctor moved quickly, methodical, yet tense—well aware of the stakes. Soren lay sprawled across the reinforced seat, his golden eyes closed, chest rising and falling in uneven rhythm as the aftereffects of Hysteria still lingered beneath the surface.
The doctor's hands were steady, working on the jagged abrasions and scratches covering Soren's body. He wiped away blood, applied medicinal salves, and finally prepared a needle filled with a potent concoction designed to stabilize the beast within. With a careful motion, he injected it, and Soren's body stiffened for a brief second before gradually relaxing.
"Doctor… what are the symptoms?" Spade, one of the guards, spoke cautiously in a low voice, leaning closer as though speaking too loudly would provoke another eruption.
The doctor paused, his brows knitting in thought. Something was… different. Much different from previous Hysteria episodes. The recovery this time was startlingly fast—almost unnaturally so.
He shifted his attention to Soren's left arm, where the armband lay in a fractured state. The piece had been crafted to withstand extreme stress, designed as the sturdiest and most sealed configuration for Soren's particular body.
It could resist the claws of a dragon, the doctor knew—yet here it was, broken. A faint gap revealed the black dragon energy stone inside.
The doctor carefully opened the armband, extracting the black dragon energy stone. Its surface glimmered with an inner darkness, faintly pulsing like a heartbeat, radiating a strange warmth. Everyone in the cabin froze. Even seasoned beastmen of the empire, who had long since trained their eyes and instincts to detect and evaluate energy stones, stared in awe.
Energy stones were no simple trinkets. They were tools of immense power, and their potency was ranked in three grades.
Low-grade energy stones glowed with three changing colors, flickering unpredictably. They were useful for minor beastmen with unstable Hysteria but utterly ineffective for anyone stronger
Medium-grade energy stones burned with two steady colors, capable of stabilizing mid-level beastmen. However, they remained insufficient against more formidable beastmen.
High-grade energy stones radiated a single, solid color, symbolizing their purity and immense power—like the one now clutched in Soren's armband. These were rare and precious. Only these stones could hold back the Hysteria of powerful beastmen like their commander. For someone like him, the lower-grade stones were laughable, mere toys.
But an energy stone wasn't just about the color or the material—it was about the carving. And not just any carving. The stone had to be shaped according to the beastman's exact form. A lion for a lion-type, a wolf for a wolf-type, a dragon for a dragon-type. Accuracy alone wasn't enough; the carver had to establish a perceptual link with the stone.
Perception. That was the key. The carver's senses, their understanding of the beast, their instinctive knowledge—all had to flow into the stone. The more they connected, the more the energy stone's power could be activated. A poorly carved black stone might as well have been blue; a masterfully carved one could suppress Hysteria that would normally tear a beastman apart.
This meant the craft required two essential skills: the technical artistry of sculpting and the almost mystical ability of perception. One without the other produced mediocre stones at best.
High-grade stones were especially demanding. Few carvers had the skill to even shape one, and even fewer could awaken its full potential. The process was exhausting, every mistake could weaken the stone or even render it useless. Some carvers spent years refining their technique, meditating, observing the beast they were carving for, almost becoming one with their subject.
The energy stone in their commander's armband was already a marvel of mastery—something only a true expert could craft. And yet… this new black dragon energy stone, somehow, had restored him even faster than expected. If not for it, his injuries this time might have been far worse than before.