Shaun continued to inch closer, his breath hitching with every step. He was now just two and a half meters away, close enough to feel the foul, warm air pushed out by the beast's labored breaths. Each exhale carried with it the stench of death, a reminder of what awaited him if he failed.
His spear trembled in his grip, the sharp point aligned with his eyes, just as he had seen in the Olympics. But this wasn't a competition; this was survival. He hesitated, the beast's massive frame looming over him like a living mountain of muscle and rage. The logical part of his mind screamed to switch stances, to plunge the spear into the beast's flesh with all his might. But the primal fear of the creature's sheer size held him back, paralyzing his muscles.
Shaun raised the spear above his shoulder, his heart pounding in sync with the boar's ragged breaths. His body was tense, ready to release the pent-up energy in a single, desperate throw. But just as he drew in a breath, preparing to let the spear fly, the beast's eyes flickered open.
For a moment, the world seemed to stop. The boar's eyes were dull, nearly lifeless, yet they bore into Shaun with a weight that pressed down on his chest. The air around him thickened, and his breath caught in his throat. Instinctively, his arm jerked forward, and the spear flew from his hand, slicing through the air.
It wasn't a perfect throw—far from it. Shaun's form was off, his grip too tight, and his stance unbalanced. He knew, even as the spear left his hand, that it lacked the force needed to deliver a killing blow. But to his shock, the spear struck true, piercing the beast's thick throat and driving through to the other side with a sickening squelch.
For a heartbeat, Shaun stood frozen, staring at the embedded spear. The boar didn't roar in anger, nor did it thrash in agony. Instead, it let out a low, gurgling grunt, a sound that carried a strange mix of resignation and sorrow. Its massive body shuddered once, then slowly began to sink to the ground.
Shaun's triumph was short-lived. Something was wrong—terribly wrong. The beast's death had been too easy, too clean. His eyes darted to the wound, expecting a torrent of blood, but there was barely a trickle, just a small puddle forming under its throat. The boar had been dying long before Shaun struck it down, but from what?
A sickening realization crept over him as the boar's body rumbled and shifted. The undergrowth that had partially hidden its massive form was pushed aside, revealing a grotesque wound—a gaping hole in its abdomen, where the flesh had rotted away, leaving behind a festering, blackened cavity. The stench of decaying flesh hit Shaun full force, turning his stomach.
He stumbled back, eyes wide with horror as he grasped the true nature of the beast's demise. The boar wasn't just wounded—it had been gutted alive, its insides left to rot by something far more sinister than he had ever imagined.
His heart pounded in his ears, drowning out the rustle of the leaves until it was too late. A cold, primal fear seized Shaun's gut as he sensed something watching him. Slowly, he turned his head to the right, and there, nestled within the shadows of the trees, was an eye—slitted, malevolent, and burning with a dark intelligence. The creature's scaly head blended into the surrounding foliage, its lips sealed tight, though the faint grinding of its massive teeth was unmistakable. Dark green and yellow scales gleamed under the dim light filtering through the canopy, giving it an almost spectral appearance.
Shaun's breath quickened, his instincts screaming at him to run, but before he could move, a sharp crackle of leaves sounded to his left. He snapped his gaze over, his pulse spiking as he caught sight of another creature—this one fully revealed, its massive body bristling with muscle beneath its scaly hide. It stood on two powerful hind legs, its four-clawed toes digging into the earth, but it was the sickle-shaped claw on its inner toe that sent a shiver down Shaun's spine, raised as if ready to slice through flesh.
The creature's upper body leaned forward, bringing its head close to the ground as it emitted a low, rattling growl, a sound that resonated deep within Shaun's chest. Its cold, calculating eyes locked onto him, a predator sizing up its next meal.
Shaun's pulse raced, his mind scrambling for a way out. He slid his foot back, hoping to retreat without triggering an attack, but the reptiles weren't fooled. Both creatures tilted their heads in eerie unison, their eyes gleaming with a curiosity as they tracked his every move. The one to his right stepped forward, its massive body emerging from the shadows, while the one to his left crouched lower, ready to pounce.
Though they moved with a predator's grace, Shaun could see the greed in their eyes—the raw hunger that drove them forward. They were toying with him, watching, waiting for the moment to strike. Every instinct in his body screamed for him to run, but he knew it was too late. He was already caught in their deadly game.
A bone-chilling howl cut through the air, drawing Shaun's gaze back to the right. The first creature had thrown its head back, revealing rows of gleaming teeth coated in a yellowish sheen, a noxious liquid dripping from its jaws.
Shaun's heart skipped a beat as the boar's corpse shuddered once more, but this time, it wasn't the beast itself that moved. From beneath its bulk slid a third reptilian monster. Its eyes glinting with a sinister intelligence, and a jutting yellow scale ran from its forehead down the length of its neck, like a crown of malevolence. Its forelimb claws scraped together with a metallic rasp, as if sharpening themselves for the feast to come, each claw slick with the same pungent liquid that dripped from its maw.
The creature's claws scraped together with a metallic rasp, each one coated in the same viscous liquid that dripped from its maw. It leaned forward, its gaze locking onto Shaun's with a predatory intensity that froze him in place. Its mouth opened just enough to reveal the rows of razor-sharp teeth waiting to rend flesh from bone.
This third creature let out a low, rattling hiss, signaling to its companions. In an instant, the dynamic shifted. The other two creatures' eyes flared with hunger, their intent no longer masked by cautious curiosity. Shaun could see it now—the calculated way they had tested him, prodding at his will and his courage, weighing his every move. They had been assessing him, trying to figure out if he was a predator or prey. And the moment he stepped back, they made their decision.
The hunt had begun, and Shaun was the prey.