The days began to pass with an strange calm.
The mountain changed first.
The green slowly descended down the slopes like a silent tide. New roots broke through the rock. Mana-laden shrubs grew overnight. Unknown flowers opened under the rain, and by dawn they were already devoured by hundreds of herbivores.
And yet… they kept growing back.
The settlements expanded.
The cubs stopped crying from hunger.The elders began to survive the dry winter.The herds no longer needed to migrate constantly.
For the first time in generations, some semihumans slept without fear of waking up with an empty stomach.
But the savanna was not at peace.
In the distance, predators watched.
Eyes glowing between dry grass.Ribs outlined beneath the skin.
Every day it became harder to hunt.
The prey no longer wandered alone.They stayed together, protected by absurd numbers, aligned horns, and hooves capable of crushing bones.
Then the desperate attacks began.
Small carnivore packs throwing themselves against entire settlements.
Some managed to drag away a prey.Most never returned.
And while the surface flourished…
beneath the earth, something began to die.
The deep caverns of the Lithaar slowly darkened.
Mana rivers that had flowed for centuries began to weaken. Subterranean crystals lost their shine. Some galleries turned cold. Empty.
The Lithaar remained motionless beside the cracks, watching as energy vanished from the veins of the world.
And every time they lifted their gaze toward the mountain…
their hatred grew a little more.
Around the settlement of humans and dark elves, a forest began to emerge.
It did not grow like a normal forest.
It advanced.
Enormous trees rose from the mountain, trunks so tall they seemed to want to touch the sky. Their branches intertwined with one another, slowly forming a natural barrier around the summit.
The happiest were the elves.
Some cried in silence while watching new leaves sprout. Others knelt beside the roots, touching them with devotion, as if hearing an ancient voice that had finally awakened.
They did not take long to abandon the stone constructions and move their homes upward, integrating them among the growing trees.
The humans, however, remained below.
The old settlement slowly began to empty.
Lusian walked alone through the silent streets, observing that strange and changing landscape.
Thick stems emerged from the cracks in the rock.Leaves filled with luminous sap opened under the sun.Deep roots breathed mana, slow and constant… like the heartbeat of a gigantic heart.
Even the air had changed.
More humid.More alive.
And the forest kept growing.
But below the mountain, things were also changing.
Semihuman settlements grew without control.
Where once there had been small scattered shelters, now enormous camps stretched out, connected by paths marked by thousands of footsteps.
More tribes arrived every week.More wagons.More cubs.More mouths to feed.
And the mountain kept responding.
The vegetation did not stop growing.
Mana-filled grasslands covered the lower slopes. Glowing shrubs sprouted between rocks. Even the air seemed to nourish them.
Herbivores grew fat.Their muscles strengthened.Their horns grew faster.
For the first time in generations… abundance existed.
And that attracted even more semihumans.
But beneath the earth…
the world began to darken.
The Lithaar caverns lost their brightness day by day.
Mana rivers that had flowed for centuries now barely dripped through the cracks. Massive crystals slowly cracked, fading from within.
Some galleries became completely dead.
Silent.Cold.
The Lithaar remained motionless in the darkness, watching as the roots of the Mother Tree descended deeper and deeper.
Drinking.
Taking.
Consuming the heart of the continent.
Not all herbivore tribes were the same.
Some had survived thanks to strength.Others… thanks to speed.
The clans of the open plains appeared weeks later.
Semihumans with long legs and light bodies, adapted to running for days across the dry savanna. Their shelters were small, easy to dismantle. They never stayed too long in one place.
Because on the plains… staying still meant death.
They arrived exhausted.
Covered in dust.With their cubs carried on their backs.Not stopping even to rest.
And behind them…
the hunters came.
Fast shadows crossing the tall grass.
Carnivore semihumans specialized in pursuit. Thinner than other predators, but terrifyingly fast.
They did not need brute strength.
Only to exhaust the prey.
They had followed the migration for weeks.
Waiting.Pressing.Killing the slowest.
And now they had also reached the mountain.
Herbivore sentries raised the alarms that very night.
Because for the first time…
the predators were not watching from afar.
They had begun following the prey all the way to the very gates of the mountain.
The meeting took place far from the mountain.
Far enough that the dry savanna air still dominated the environment.Far enough not to smell the newborn forest.
They met among massive split rocks, worn down by wind and ancient storms.
No one had come out of trust.
They had come because hunger was starting to hurt.
Lion semihumans watched from atop the rocks, motionless, their manes stirred by the night wind. Jaguars remained hidden in narrow shadows, almost invisible even to other predators. Hyenas circled the area, unable to stay still, letting out nervous laughs while sniffing the air.
Farther back, several leopards rested on low branches, watching everyone at once.
No one let their guard down.
Because everyone there had hunted someone else present at some point.
Stolen territories.Ambushes.Old blood.
Predators.
Natural rivals.
And yet… no one attacked.
Because something worse was happening.
—The prey no longer flee alone —growled a black-maned lion.
His voice was heavy.
—They stay grouped.
A jaguar slowly moved its tail.
—There are too many.
Its yellow eyes reflected the moon.
—We attack one herd… and ten more appear.
A hyena let out a dry laugh.
—We used to wait for the weak.
Another laugh.
—Now the weak are hiding behind hundreds of horns.
Silence fell again.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
Because everyone had seen the same thing.
The mountain had changed the savanna.
Before, prey competed among themselves.
They constantly moved in search of mana plants.They separated.They argued.They fought over food.
And that made hunting easier.
There were always stragglers.Slow cubs.Exhausted elders.Injured ones.
Not anymore.
Now they stayed together.
Abundant food had united the herbivores.
And united… they were dangerous.
—We lost three hunters yesterday —another lion growled—. A stampede crushed them.
The hyenas stopped laughing.
Even they were starting to go hungry.
A leopard slowly descended from a rock.
—This will only get worse.
No one answered.
Because everyone knew it.
Every day more herbivores arrived at the mountain.
More mouths.More bodies.More herds.
And fewer prey for the savanna.
Then an old jaguar slowly lifted its gaze toward the visible mountain in the distance.
Even from there it could be seen.
Vegetation growing.
Too green.Too alive.
Its eyes burned with hatred.
—If the prey do not return to the savanna…
A pause.
The wind swept across the stones.
—Then we will go after them.
Silence became absolute.
Because everyone understood what those words truly meant.
Entering the mountain meant crossing unknown territory.It meant approaching the strange forest.It meant facing humans.Elves.And possibly… that monstrous black creature covered in electricity.
Thunder.
No one wanted to face it.
But hunger was becoming worse than fear.
A lion slowly bared its fangs.
—Then we go to war.
The ambush began before dawn.
Low fog covered the plains around the mountain. Herbivores slept grouped together among wagons, wooden shelters, and extinguished fires.
Everything seemed calm.
Until the sentries heard the growls.
One lifted its head.Another sniffed the air.
Then they saw them.
Yellow eyes glowing between the tall grass.
—PREDATORS!
The shout shattered the camp.
Panic exploded instantly.
Cubs began crying.The younger ones ran without thinking.Some parents tried to form defensive lines.
But fear always came first.
And the carnivores knew it.
The Leontaaris moved at the front. Their enormous bodies advanced like a living wall, crossing the fog without hurry. Each step shook the ground. They did not need speed. They needed pressure.
They roared.
And that was the true beginning of the attack.
They were not trying to enter quickly.
They were breaking the enemy's mind.
Inside the village, herbivore guards tried to form defensive lines. Horns outward. Hooves steady. Protection around wagons and shelters.
It worked for a few seconds.
Until the hyenas entered.
Small, fast, impossible to lock onto. They attacked and vanished. Bit legs, broke formations, forced defenders to turn.
The order began to collapse.
And in the exact moment the formation broke…
the runners entered.
Fast carnivore semihumans.
They did not fight the strong.
They passed through them.
And it worked.
A group of antelope semihumans fled toward the side plains.
Mistake.
Shadows shot after them.
The runners.
Thin carnivores specialized in pursuit.
Long legs.Slanted backs.Short, rapid breathing.
They did not attack immediately.
They only chased.
Pressed.Exhausted.Separated.
One of the herbivores looked back for only a second.
That was enough.
The hunter leapt onto its back and both rolled violently across the ground.
Farther ahead, another semihuman tripped while trying to avoid a fallen wagon. Three runners reached him before he could stand.
Screams began filling the valley.
Meanwhile, at the center of the settlement, the hyenas attacked.
They did not try to kill quickly.
They constantly went in and out, biting legs, spreading chaos, forcing the strongest to chase them.
And every time a defender moved too far…
the Leontaaris struck.
A lion semihuman broke straight through a wooden barricade.
Another grabbed a buffalo warrior's horns with both hands. The muscles of both strained violently.
Then a hyena appeared from behind and bit the herbivore's leg tendon.
The balance broke.
The Leontaari brought it down immediately.
Everything was coordinated.
The fast ones separated.The hyenas distracted.The lions destroyed the front.
The walls held. Herbivore guards formed tight lines between entrances. Wagons were overturned to block paths. Alarms kept sounding nonstop.
The chaos was contained… inside.
But not everyone could resist it.
Instinct was stronger in some.
A group of herbivores—young, fast, frightened—broke formation.
—They're fleeing! —a guard shouted—. Don't leave the village!
But it was too late.
They ran.
They exited through a side opening, crossing the fog, moving away from the noise, the roars, the pressure of the attack.
They ran thinking escape meant survival.
That was their mistake.
Because they were being waited for.
As soon as they crossed the perimeter… the savanna responded.
Shadows rose from the tall grass.
Carnivore runners.
Fast. Silent.
They had not attacked the village. It was not necessary.
They had waited outside.
Like a net slowly closing.
One herbivore looked back and understood too late.
There was no escape.
They had only changed battlefields.
The first fell before it could scream.
The second tried to turn, but already had two predators on top of it.
The third ran even faster…
and that only separated it from the rest.
Far ahead, through the fog, a deep roar echoed.
Leontaaris.
They were not attacking the village.
They were hunting the ones who fled.
Because the real objective had never been to destroy the walls.
It was to break those who hesitated.
In the main village, the battle continued between improvised walls.
Mukhar moved through the center of the chaos like a fixed point in a storm.
Suddenly, a Leontaari broke through the defensive line and jumped toward him.
It did not finish the movement.
Mukhar caught its neck mid-air.
A sharp twist.
He slammed it into the ground with brutal force.
The impact lifted dirt and wood.
Without giving it time to react, his foot descended with precision and power.
The Leontaari's skull cracked.
Brief silence in that part of the battlefield.
Mukhar did not look at it twice.
He turned toward his own.
—Reorganize the defenses!
His voice cut through the noise of battle.
The semihumans obeyed immediately, closing ranks, reinforcing weak points, pushing the attackers back.
Mukhar raised his gaze.
In front of him, through the fog, stood the Leontaaris and Hienaaris.
Watching.
Breathing heavily.
Evaluating.
But they were no longer advancing.
Something had changed.
The smell of the battlefield said everything.
They had achieved what they wanted.
The dead herbivores were already outside the village or falling along their hunting routes.
The pressure of hunger had been eased.
One Leontaari roared… but it was not a call to continue.
It was a signal.
The pack began to retreat slowly.
Hyenas disappeared into the grass first. Then the runners. Then the larger predators.
No pursuit.
No declared victory.
Only an organized withdrawal.
Mukhar watched them leave.
And understood what it meant.
It was not the end of the war.
It was only a harvest.
—They retreated… —one guard murmured.
Mukhar did not take his eyes off the horizon.