The Yacumama's final scream bled into silence, its body twitching beneath Mike's claws. He tore another steaming strip of flesh from its neck, swallowing the essence that gushed like molten rivers down his throat. Its blood swirled in him, a primal pulse flooding his veins with strength.
The serpent's coils slackened, snapping branches as they collapsed lifelessly into the dirt. The jungle shivered, as though every tree and root recoiled in fear. Mike raised his head, gore dripping from his jaw, his laughter carrying through the canopy like thunder rolling across a valley.
He did not stop until the beast's massive body was nothing more than scattered bones and steaming scraps of hide. Every last bite burned into him, crimson fire laced with the serpent's essence until his own scales itched with small new growth.
Binyai crouched on a nearby branch, his monkey form wrinkling his nose at the stench.
"You're announcing yourself to everything in the basin," he muttered. "You eat like a savage beast with no regards for threats."
Mike licked the blood from his claws, smiling wide. "Let them come. Let them crawl from their holes and face me."
The forest answered.
The air turned rancid, thick with the stench of rot. Birds fell silent, the trees swaying though no wind stirred them. From the underbrush burst a hulking shadow, towering, shaggy, reeking like corpses left in the sun. Its fur was matted, dark with filth, its enormous claws slicing through the earth with every step.
The Mapinguari.
It bellowed, a scream echoing through the jungle. One glaring eye burned from its forehead, and when it leaned forward, a second mouth yawned open in its stomach, dripping foul saliva.
Mike's grin faltered. "More weaklings."
The beast lunged, its claws tearing gouges into the soil, striking with speed that belied its size. Mike's form quickly morphed into his dragon self, wings unfurling as he met the charge. The Mapinguari's claws raked across his scales, sparks flying, its strength undeniable.
Mike slammed his head forward, fangs biting deep into its shoulder. Hot, rancid blood spilled into his mouth, and he snarled at the bitter, putrid taste. The Mapinguari roared, swinging its claws again and scoring lines across his chest, but Mike only laughed, forcing it back with a blast of crimson fire.
The flames clung to its fur, burning patches of the beast's flesh until it howled, staggering. For the first time, fear flickered in its single eye.
Mike lunged to finish it, claws raised, teeth bared but the Mapinguari turned and fled.
Its backward-facing feet carried it in a blur, crashing through trees, its foul stench lingering like a curse. Within seconds, the jungle swallowed it whole, its retreat echoing with ragged howls.
Mike stood tall, blood dripping from his claws, laughter shaking the leaves above. "Run, then weakling. Even your monsters know what hunts them now."
Binyai leapt from his branch, landing lightly on Mike's shoulder in monkey form, though his golden eyes were grave.
"You're loud, Dumu-Kur. Too loud. Every coward in the jungle now knows you've come. If you keep showing yourself in the skies, they'll scatter like rats before you can devour them."
Mike shifted back into his human form, rolling his shoulders as the glow of his essence dimmed beneath the skin. His naked body was soaked in blood, his grin unbroken. "So what? I'll chase them down."
Binyai smacked the back of his head with his tail. "Think. Do you want the primordials to hide or flee. Stay in the sky, and you'll find nothing but empty earth when you descend."
Mike's grin thinned, but he said nothing. He wiped the blood from his mouth, eyes fixed on the dark wall of jungle that stretched endless in every direction.
"Listen to the half-breed. Stop acting lazy and start being a hunter." Bahamut rumbled in his mind.
"Fine," Mike growled. "Then I'll walk."
He stepped forward into the Amazon's heart.
The jungle grew heavier the deeper Mike pressed. The canopy swallowed the sun, shafts of light cutting only thin spears into the gloom. The air clung thick, buzzing with insects, every step sinking into mud that stank of decay.
Binyai perched on his shoulder, tail twitching, his eyes sharp as he scanned the shadows. "Careful, Dumu-Kur. The jungle watches you. Not the beasts this time, the people."
Mike sniffed, his senses flaring. Sweat, smoke, and something else: the iron tang of sharpened points. He turned his head slightly, eyes narrowing into the dense green.
The first arrow came with a whisper.
It streaked from the foliage, glowing faintly at its tip, and buried itself into the flesh of Mike's forearm. He staggered back, growling, crimson fire spilling instinctively from his mouth as the wound seared. But the flame didn't cauterize, it lingered, burning cold, spreading pain up his arm.
"Divine blessing," Binyai muttered. "Someone gave these primitives a little taste of power."
Another arrow slammed into his thigh. A spear followed, whistling through the air, its golden head slashing across his ribs. Blood spilled freely, sizzling on the ground.
Mike roared, the sound ripping through the forest. "COWARDS!"
Figures emerged from the treeline, men painted in black and red, their bodies lean but disciplined. Their bows glowed faintly, feathers bright as sunlight, spears shimmering with the blessing that made them pierce his skin.
They moved in silence, firing volley after volley. The air filled with streaks of light. Mike's body erupted in crimson fire, wings half-unfurled to shield him, but still the arrows struck true. Each one dug deep, tearing through his defenses, forcing his knees to dip.
A spear flew straight for his chest.
Mike's hand snapped forward, claws curling, and he caught it mid-flight. The shaft quivered in his grip. His eyes burned, lips pulling into a blood-soaked grin.
"You think twigs will kill me?"
He surged forward, the earth trembling beneath his steps. One warrior tried to retreat, bow raising too slow. Mike slammed into him, no claws, no fire. Just his forehead.
The impact cracked like thunder. The man didn't fall, he ceased to exist. His body burst into a spray of blood and bone fragments, a red mist showering the leaves.
Mike staggered a half step, dripping with gore, crimson dripping down his jaw like sweat. His laughter followed, manic and low, echoing through the stunned silence of the jungle.
The other warriors froze, their painted faces drained of resolve.
Mike turned his head slowly, his eyes glowing molten red. He opened his mouth, letting a rumble crawl from his throat until it swelled into a roar that shook the canopy above, scattering birds in a terrified frenzy.
The warriors broke. They threw their weapons, fleeing into the forest. Their forms dissolved into the distance, leaving only silence, the stink of blood, and Mike standing alone among the shattered trees.
Binyai landed lightly on a branch above him, his monkey face unreadable. "The weapons wound because they're blessed. But the men holding them? They're still fragile. Their bones crack. Their flesh tears."
Mike's grin faded into something darker. His body shook, blood falling from his arms, chest, and mouth, dripping to the roots below. He looked down at himself, covered in gore, his breaths ragged.
He growled low, spitting out a mouthful of blood before continuing his march forward.
The jungle shivered around him, as though it knew more would come.