The first awareness was heat—intense and searing, wrapping around its scaled body like a mother’s embrace. The creature, barely more than a clawed hatchling, blinked its filmy eyes open to a world crackling with life. The ground pulsed beneath it, baked and broken, and every breath tasted of ash and fire. Instinct pulled it forward, claws scratching over the jagged earth as it sought its first taste of prey.
Nearby, another hatchling scrambled over the blackened rocks, unaware of the predator behind it. The newborn creature’s tiny muscles coiled, eyes narrowing as it crept forward. Its heartbeat was a drum, thundering with the promise of a kill. The world around it was chaos—a cacophony of hisses, the distant wail of dying beasts, and the ever-present hum of the scorched sky.
It lunged, jaws open wide, only to stop short. Shadows swallowed the light around it, and the hatchling’s head lifted instinctively, pupils narrowing to thin slits as it searched for the source.
Why was it suddenly nighttime?
What it saw stole its final breath—a colossal shape, scales blacker than the deepest abyss and eyes that burned like molten suns. The sky above was blotted out, consumed by the unimaginable mass of a single foot descending with the force of a mountain.
The creature’s world ended in silence as Arthur’s immense foot came down, crushing the new life back into the cracked earth, leaving nothing but a smear of dust and bone in its wake.
*
The last shudder of life flickered in the crushed creature’s body, its fleeting existence snuffed out before it ever truly began. The force of Arthur’s footfall sent cracks spidering outward, each fissure claiming more of the landscape as if even the earth itself wished to flee from the weight of his arrival. Tiny geysers of dust and embers erupted from the fractured ground, marking the spot as a monument to the insignificance of lesser beings.
Nearby, other small creatures scurried for cover, instinct screaming at them to hide from the shadow of the colossus that moved through their world. Some burrowed into crevices between sharp rocks, their tiny hearts pounding like war drums, while others froze in terror, eyes wide and unblinking as the dark titan strode past. The air itself seemed to hum, vibrating with the energy and presence of Arthur’s advance, carrying with it the deep, resonant thrum of power that seemed to shake the fabric of existence.
The echoes of the hatchling’s brief life were swallowed by the ambient noise of the Badlands—a place where life and death were as intertwined as the molten rivers that cut through its surface. But in that moment, as Arthur continued forward, indifferent to the lives beneath his feet, the Badlands felt a shift.
This was truly a word where only the biggest, baddest monsters could survive.
*
The Badlands stretched before Arthur, a scarred expanse of cracked earth and jagged stone, seething under a dark, swirling sky. Heat rose from the ground in shimmering waves, distorting the landscape and stinging the air with the sharp scent of sulfur. Arthur advanced, each step sending tremors through the blackened earth, as if even the land itself recoiled at his presence. This was not just another desolate wasteland; it was a place alive with a dark intent, one that welcomed only those with the power to survive.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
Entering Hunter’s Domain
Effect: Passive stamina drain detected. Strength and awareness are being tested.
Note: Cursed Crown synchronizing with ambient energy. Proceed with caution.
Arthur’s eyes, twin embers of molten gold, narrowed as the notification faded from his mind. The message was unnecessary. He could already feel the drain, the insidious pull on his core, as if the very air wanted to siphon his strength. His Obsidian Skin adjusted instinctively, glowing faintly as it absorbed the external heat and reinforced his defenses. He relished the challenge, a testament to the neutral force that ruled him. This was not a test to endure; it was a proving ground, and he was determined to dominate it.
Bone and stone effigies stood as silent sentinels, their hollow eyes carved with an artistry that seemed older than time itself. Each totem exuded a faint, unnatural pulse, a relic of whatever ancient power had once claimed this place. Arthur’s gaze swept over them, his psychic senses picking up the subtle vibrations that echoed beneath the surface—traces of something massive and watchful, coiled in the shadows and waiting for its moment to strike.
A low growl reverberated through his body, a sound that resonated deep in his core and sent a warning to whatever dared to observe him. The Cursed Crown, clutched tightly in his massive claws, pulsed in response, a shared acknowledgment of the presence lurking beyond the edges of perception.
The air shifted, carrying with it the scent of ash and something far more primal: the unmistakable tang of a predator’s musk. Arthur’s tail swept behind him, slicing the ground and scattering loose stone as he advanced. High above, dark feathered shapes wheeled and twisted against the sky, their silhouettes barely visible but unmistakably alive. They were not carrion birds; they were sentinels, their gaze as predatory as the land beneath them.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
Analyzing environment
Discovered: Heat trails, claw marks detected. Be alert for aerial and subterranean threats.
Current status: Stamina draining at 5% above normal levels.
Arthur’s eyes glowed with renewed intensity, the orbiting beams around his horns crackling as they absorbed and reflected the ambient destructive energy. He shifted his weight, digging his claws into the brittle ground as he examined the markings that littered the path before him. The gouges and tracks weren’t just signs of battle—they were a record of hunts, calculated and precise, laid down by something intelligent enough to play with its prey before striking the final blow.
The realization sparked a deep rumble in his chest, a sound that reverberated through the bones scattered at his feet. The ancient remains seemed to tremble as if stirred by the echoes of old fears. Arthur’s Analyze skill pulsed through the air, casting a subtle, invisible net that mapped out the immediate terrain. His senses registered the sharp, focused energy signatures hidden in the basalt cliffs and the faint, almost imperceptible vibrations that hinted at something stirring far below the surface.
A shift in the air drew his attention, a sudden sharpness that made the ground beneath him quiver. He tensed, eyes narrowing to slits as the world seemed to hold its breath. A shadow passed over him—vast, powerful, and gone as quickly as it appeared, a phantom that slipped back into the swirling sky. Arthur’s core tightened, the power within him coiling in response. His tail lashed out, sending shards of rock skittering across the charred earth.
The Cursed Crown flared again, its dark aura feeding on the energy of the domain, responding like a living thing. It pulsed, warning him without words. Beware. She is near.
The hunter in Arthur reveled in the challenge, the promise of a worthy foe. His psychic senses stretched further, picking up the minute shifts in temperature and the telltale signs of an approaching battle. He inhaled deeply, the stench of sulfur mingling with the scent of molten metal, and exhaled a stream of steam that hissed in the stillness.
High above, the feathered sentinels cawed, their cries echoing like the heralds of doom. The sky seemed to churn more violently, the clouds swirling with dark, unnatural hues. Arthur’s gaze lifted to meet the storm, eyes blazing with challenge. He was not prey. He was the storm made flesh, and this place would either bow to him or be shattered under the weight of his wrath.
This chapt𝓮r is updat𝒆d by ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom.
A sudden, violent quake ripped through the ground, splitting the earth with a sound like a thousand roars. Arthur’s claws dug deep as he held his stance, feeling the vibration travel up through his limbs. From the crack in the ground, an acrid steam erupted, carrying with it the stench of something ancient and powerful.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
Seismic activity detected. Source unknown. Be prepared for immediate engagement.
Item activated: Cursed Crown energy synchronization at 60%.
Arthur’s tail lashed the ground, carving a deep groove as he shifted to face the direction of the disturbance. A second shadow, larger than the first, swept across the battlefield. This one did not vanish into the sky but lingered, a presence as dark as it was palpable. His eyes caught the gleam of scales—black, reflective, and edged with the fire of molten veins. The second child, the predator of this realm, was close.
The fog around him parted, revealing more of the bone totems, their hollow eyes now glowing with an inner fire as if witnessing the arrival of their true master. The whispers grew louder, a chant that seemed to ripple through the very fabric of the air, speaking in that same, forgotten language that gnawed at Arthur’s mind. He silenced them with a roar, the sound deep and feral, shaking the sky and ground alike.
And then, in the stillness that followed, a single feather drifted down from above. It glowed with a molten heat, searing the air around it and landing at Arthur’s feet. The ground hissed where it touched, the heat so intense it blackened the surrounding stone. Arthur’s gaze fixed on it, the glow of his eyes matching the molten light of the feather.
She was here. The hunt was about to begin.