The air is a mix of a bloody scent and damp dust. In the heart of a primeval forest untouched by humans, a beast was breathing. The place, long abandoned by mankind, was filled with rotting humus and moss-covered trees. Due to the massive canopy blocking the sky, the lower ground was as dim as twilight, and the cries of unidentified beasts echoed through it. It was a land ruled by primitive vitality and the laws of the wild.

And one of the apex predators there was Ben.

The dawn mist crawled across the ground like a dragging weight. The scent of the forest tangled like threads through the damp air, and something was moving beneath the giant conifers. Heavy footprints sank into the thick layers of rotting leaves and moss, hollowing out the earth, while nearby small animals scattered in instinctive terror. Amidst the dawn moisture as thick as fog, a massive shadow rose.

His red eyes were slit vertically, and his black fur was stiff and matted with oil and dust. His back muscles rippled with every movement. Saliva dripped from the end of his long, thick snout, soaking the dirt floor.

Ben lifted his snout and caught a scent in the air. What caught his nose was a smell drifting from afar—that of a small animal. His eyes slowly locked in one direction, his pupils constricting as his gaze glowed in the darkness. Ben tore through the trees with the power stored in his legs. Branches snapped and leaves scattered. In the wake of his path, only deep claw marks remained in the earth.