Then—
they emerged.
One by one.
From shadow. From branch. From behind the trees.
Six figures.
Different shapes. Different presences.
All carrying the same thing.
Intent.
Sharp.
Hungry.
The fox turned slowly, turquoise eyes settling on them.
Calm.
Almost… curious.
Her tail swayed once behind her.
"…Took you long enough."
Silence answered her.
Then one of them stepped forward.
A low chuckle.
"You led us well."
The fox's smile sharpened.
"Of course."
A pause.
"I wanted you here."
The forest seemed to tighten around them. The air shifted.
And somewhere far beyond the Hollow's reach—
the real game began.
Her gaze moved across them, one by one.
Measuring.
Weighing.
Counting.
Then she exhaled softly.
"…Fewer than I expected."
Her head tilted faintly.
"…but I suppose this will do."
Around the clearing, the six figures shifted.
No more hiding.
No more pretense.
Sleeves fell back. Auras rose.
Two remained fully in beast form—low, coiled, ready.
The other four stood in humanoid shapes, but nothing about them felt human.
Claws.
Eyes.
Teeth.
All wrong.
All hungry.
One stepped forward—tall, broad-shouldered, a jagged scar running across his jaw.
His lips pulled back into something between a grin and a threat.
"You brought us here," he said, voice rough with amusement. "…so I assume you didn't plan to waste our time."
A pause.
"What do you have for us?"
The fox's ears flicked once. Her smile deepened.
"That…"
She took a small breath.
"…is a good question."
She shifted her weight slightly, relaxed, unbothered.
"But I won't be answering it."
A ripple of irritation moved through the group.
Another stepped forward—leaner, quicker, his eyes already narrowing.
"…Enough."
No patience.
No interest in games.
His body blurred as a technique snapped into place.
Killing intent sharpened—focused, direct.
He moved.
Fast.
Straight for her throat.
No warning.
No hesitation.
Just death—
clean and immediate.
The fox didn't move.
Didn't flinch.
Didn't even blink.
Because she didn't need to.
A crack split the air.
Sharp.
Violent.
Lightning.
It lashed outward—not from her, but from above.
A blue arc tore through the space between them and slammed into the incoming strike.
Boom.
The technique shattered.
Forced wide.
Deflected completely.
The attacker skidded back, feet carving into the earth, eyes wide.
Silence fell.
Not calm.
Focused.
Because now, every gaze shifted.
Up.
To the fox's head.
To the small figure that had been ignored.
Overlooked.
Dismissed.
Little White lowered his head slightly.
His golden eyes were no longer half-lidded.
They were open.
Watching.
The last threads of lightning faded from the air around him, crackling softly like something alive that hadn't finished speaking.
The fox's smile didn't change.
But her voice did.
Sharpened.
Annoyed.
"…Rude."
Her tail flicked once.
"You didn't even let me finish."
Her eyes lifted, meeting theirs again.
Calm.
Dangerous.
"I was going to say…"
A pause.
Her smile widened, slow and deliberate.
"…why tell you…"
She stepped forward.
"…when I can just show you?"
Silence thickened, heavy and suffocating.
The six didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Because now—
they were looking at the right thing.
Not the fox.
Not the bait.
But the presence perched above her.
The one that had struck once—
and said everything.
The air shifted.
Instinct screamed.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
The scarred one's grin faded, just slightly.
"…What… is that?"
No one answered.
Because for the first time—
they weren't sure anymore—
that they were the hunters.
The clearing held its breath.
Then—
Little White moved.
There was no rush. No surge of power. No dramatic flare.
He simply lifted, rising from the fox's head, and hovered just above her.
The six beasts tensed instantly.
Every instinct within them screamed.
Danger.
Wrong.
The lizard didn't even look at them.
His voice slipped through their link, calm and flat.
*Move.*
The fox's ears flicked, a faint hum of amusement following.
"Hm… alright."
She didn't argue. Didn't hesitate.
She simply turned and stepped away.
Casual.
As if she were leaving a conversation, not a battlefield.
Her voice drifted lightly over her shoulder, almost mocking.
"You're only at the seventh layer…"
A pause.
"…let's see if you last ten seconds."
Then she was gone.
A blur between the trees, distance opening instantly.
The beasts reacted.
Of course they did.
Two of them shifted, muscles coiling, ready to give chase—
to run her down first.
The weak one.
The visible one.
But that thought never finished forming.
Because something changed.
The air.
The space.
Him.
Little White hovered—small, unimpressive—
and then his body exhaled.
Not breath.
Not aura.
Something else.
A thin, almost delicate thread of purple mist slipped from between his white scales.
Soft.
Quiet.
Harmless-looking.
For a single heartbeat.
Then—
it erupted.
The mist exploded outward, flooding the clearing. Filling it. Drowning it.
Thick.
Heavy.
Violent.
The beasts reacted instantly.
"Poison—!"
One snapped, already sealing his breath, spiritual energy surging as barriers flared to life around his body.
Another leapt back, trying to escape the edge of the cloud—
too slow.
Because something else had already descended.
A pressure.
Invisible.
Crushing.
The ground beneath them groaned. Roots cracked. Earth sank.
Gravity.
Not natural.
Not stable.
Forced.
Their bodies slammed downward.
Knees buckled.
Spines bent.
Movement slowed—
then dragged.
"…What—?!" one snarled, muscles trembling, unable to rise fully.
The purple mist thickened.
It didn't rush.
Didn't lash out.
It simply existed.
And that—
was worse.
Because it seeped.
Through fur.
Through scale.
Through the smallest gaps in their defenses.
Through spiritual barriers like water through cracked stone.
"Hold your breath—!"
"I am—!"
Panic crept in.
Sharp.
Ugly.
Because they could feel it now.
Inside.
Not the lungs—
deeper.
Meridians.
Core.
A slow, burning corruption.
One beast roared, forcing energy outward, trying to purge it—
the mist only twisted, sliding along the flow, entering with it.
"…No—no, this—"
His voice broke.
Because it wasn't just poison.
It was refined.
Targeted.
Alive in a way poison shouldn't be.
Above them, Little White hovered silently.
Golden eyes steady.
Watching.
No excitement.
No cruelty.
Just observation.
As if the outcome had already been decided.
One of the stronger ones—the scarred beast—forced himself halfway upright, veins bulging, teeth bared.
"You—what are you?!"
Little White tilted his head slightly.
Almost curious.
Then he lowered one claw.
Just slightly.
The pressure spiked.
A sharp crack split through the clearing as the ground fractured. Their bodies slammed harder into the earth. Breath burst from their lungs. Control shattered.