Saul's eyes cracked open to a world stitched together from fever dreams and bad decisions. His chest throbbed where Sable's needle had bitten in last night, the Fang mark pulsed like a fresh tattoo inked in fire, not pigment. A promise or a curse. He couldn't tell yet.
The hut smelled of damp earth and herbs, thick and alive, nothing like the sterile hum of his jet or the sharp bite of office coffee. Sunlight sneaked through the reed walls, painting stripes across the pile of furs that served as his bed. He shifted, every muscle protesting.
Gods. What a night.Drums. Smoke. Chants.And that haze, the kind that stripped you bare, dragging up ghosts you'd buried under boardroom smiles.
He stared at the low ceiling laced with dried vines. The system flickered in his vision like a glitchy HUD:
[Objective: Survive the Dawn]
Real helpful. No empire to build, no contracts to seal just survive. Fitting, after the crash, after Juvia's hand had slipped away beneath the waves.
"Get it together, Saul," he muttered, rubbing his face. "You're not drowning anymore."
A soft rustle cut the silence. Lira knelt by the fire pit, back turned, stirring something in a clay pot that bubbled with an earthy scent. Her tail swayed slow, brushing the dirt floor. She wore simple hides today, tied loose at the shoulders, no armor, no paint, just her. Raw and real in the morning light. It tugged at something in his chest, softer than the ache from the mark.
"Morning, storm-boy," she rasped without turning. "You snore like a cub after too much milk. Thought you'd sleep through the sun."
"Blame the brand," Saul groaned. "Feels like someone parked a truck on my ribs."He glanced down at the red lines curling under the salve, still hot, still alive. The pack's welcome, she'd called it.
A vow. Or another scar to stack with the rest.
Lira poured the brew into a wooden bowl, steam curling up like lazy smoke signals. She padded over, silent on bare feet, and handed it to him. Her fingers brushed his warm, callused, steady.
"Drink. Pine root and feverleaf. Takes the edge off without dulling the hunt."
He sipped, grimacing as bitterness clawed at his tongue."Tastes like regret boiled in gym socks. This your idea of a hangover cure?"
She laughed softly, kneeling beside him. Her scent, musk and rain completely wrapped around him, cutting through the damp air."Punishment? Nah. Healing. You took the mark clean, Saul. Most outsiders crack. You… held."
He stared into the brew. Held, she said. Funny. The haze last night had peeled him open Juvia's laughter, her betrayal, the jet's scream, the water's cold bite. He'd gasped it all into the dirt while the pack chanted, and Lira's hand had kept him tethered.
"Didn't have much choice," he said quietly. "Crack now, and what's left? Another empire in ruins."
A ghost flickered behind his eyes, Juvia's emerald dress, her whisper like silk, the knife that followed. He felt the sting of memory and wiped away the lone tear that dared to fall.
Lira noticed but didn't pry. Instead, her claw traced the edge of the mark, feather-light, almost reverent."Empires fall," she murmured. "But you? You're still standing. That's more than most."
He caught her hand, pressing it to his chest. "Lost it all to a smile. Built Wetnerian from nothing, stepped on throats to climb. For what? A woman with a blade behind her back. Now it's fur, fangs, and a blue box telling me to rot my way to power."
Her tail curled around his ankle, gentle as reassurance.
"The wild doesn't joke," she said softly. "It chews you up and spits out what's real. You think I haven't lost? Warriors, kin, packmates. But here we are breathing. Fighting. That's our punchline to live nothing more nothing less."
The truth hit harder than any boardroom deal. Saul cupped her jaw, thumb brushing the soft fur near her ear. For a moment, the hut disappeared just her, close enough for his breath to mingle with hers.
"You're too good at pulling strays from the mud," he murmured.
"Strays make the best hunters." She smirked. "Now up, storm-boy. Can't heal what stays in bed."
She kissed his knuckles, a fleeting spark, then hauled him to his feet.
The hut was small but warm, lined with carved bones, herbs, and spears. As he stretched, the system pinged:
[Scanning: Reed walls (basic structure, +5 BP)]
He focused. The walls glowed faintly. Another pulse:
[Scan complete. +5 BP]
[New skill unlocked]
[Aura Sense Lv.1 Unlocked - Detect emotions for 100metres]
[Hidden intents glow faint]
Useful. Like a lie detector, for beasts.
Lira's ears twitched. "Blue ghost eyes again. What's it whispering now?"
"Trade secrets," he said, grinning. "But it likes your walls." She rolled her eyes. "Then get outside. Let's see if those city hands can fight."
The yard waited, a ring of ferns and dirt, sunlight spilling over the thorns. Lira faced him, loose and dangerous. "No weapons. Show me your 'city fight.'"
Saul laughed, crouching like a man about to close a deal. "Observe: the boardroom pin."
He lunged and instantly regretted it. She flowed around him, hooked his ankle, and sent him flying into the ferns. He came up coughing leaves. "That's cheating!"
Lira stood over him, fangs flashing in a grin. "Hot takedown? Cute. Vines twist back."She hauled him up, her palm rough against his.
"Remind me not to arm-wrestle you," he muttered.
"Again," she said. "Faster this time."
They danced. His aura sense picked up her playfulness, her intent glowing gold. He ducked, feinted, jabbed and managed to tap her shoulder.
"Boardroom blitz," he said, breathless.
"Cub's poke," she teased, spinning. He caught her mid-turn, arms locking around her waist. For a heartbeat they froze, chest to chest, her breath hot, the air charged.
Her fingers found his mark again, tracing its edges. "Quick when you want," she whispered. Her eyes darkened, voice low. "Almost wild."
The want hit him like a wave, sharp and real, but the ghosts came too. The crash, the betrayal, the cold. He stepped back, chest tight. "Sorry. Not yet."
Lira's gaze softened. "Storms don't rush. They build." She bumped his shoulder, breaking the tension.
"Come on. Food before you faint from all that 'blitzing.'"
They sat by the fire pit, roasting jungle roots. The air hummed with lazy warmth. Saul poked his skewer suspiciously.
"Looks like I cooked it," he said, taking a bite. "And it tastes like it too."
Lira smirked. "Storm boys and flames don't mix." She laughed, and he joined her, the sound easy and clean.
For a moment, the world felt simple, two strays sharing bad food under a climbing sun.
"Tell me about your world," she said. "The one of 'deals' and 'empires.' Sounds… empty."
He hesitated. "Steel towers. Endless lights. Power measured in signatures and secrets. You climb by stepping on backs. Feels like power until it doesn't."
"Power," she echoed. "Like an alpha's roar?"
"Sort of. But colder." She stared at the ferns. "Ours is shared. We hunt, we bleed, we howl. Lose one, the pack pulls you through. That's power and not taking, holding."
Saul nodded. "Maybe. Some days it still feels like drowning."
"Then grab the shore," she said, her hand finding his knee. "We're it."
He covered her hand, and something cracked open, quiet, human. He pulled her close, and she let him. No words, just breath and heartbeat. When the sun grew harsh, they pulled apart. Lira stood, brushing dirt from her knees. "Enough mush. You cooking next?"
He grinned, tossing a twig on the coals. "Master of flame control, reporting."
The fire flared too high, blackening another root. Smoke billowed.Lira burst out laughing. "Arsonist! That's not breakfast, that's a distress signal!"
Saul coughed through the smoke. "In my world, this counts as gourmet."
She snatched the root and took a mock bite. "Mmm. Tastes like victory over taste buds."
They laughed until their sides hurt, until a rustle cut through the air.
From the ferns stepped Vexa, her russet tail flicking, eyes sly and sharp."Missed the fox-call, storm-boy?" she purred. "Cave secrets wait… but so do ears that shouldn't hear."
Saul's gut twisted. The aura sense flared with curiosity, yes, but something else too. Cold. Hidden.
Lira's tail went rigid, "What do you want, Vexa?"
The morning air shifted, thick with tension. Saul felt the pulse of danger under the sunlight, the kind that promised this quiet wouldn't last.