The massive auditorium of Dino High was alive with chaos. Voices overlapped into a deafening cacophony, punctuated by the occasional crash as some overexcited juvenile managed to knock a piece of the polished marble architecture to the ground. The smell of freshly buffed floors mixed with the faint musk of aggression and damp reptilian hides. Above it all, the ominous symbol of Dino High hung from a vast banner—a depiction of an unidentified archosaur skull encircled by a wreath of other extinct skulls. No one remembered what species that central skull belonged to, but its empty eye sockets seemed to glare down judgmentally at the crowd below.
Anon stood on the fringes of the chaos, doing his best to remain invisible.
He tugged at the collar of his crisp white shirt, feeling like the uniform itself was conspiring against him. The blood-red tie around his neck, sharp against his pale complexion, felt like a challenge—a deliberate attempt to provoke him, to mark him as prey, where it not for his hood that covered his face, hiding his human nature. His fingers brushed the meteor fragment amulet that hung just beneath his collar, its smooth surface radiating a faint, unnatural warmth. It was the only reason he was even allowed to be here, but it felt more like a brand.
A few paces away, a towering carnotaurus leaned against a pillar, gnashing her teeth rhythmically as she stared down a smaller ceratopsian who flinched under her glare. Behind them, a group of female dromaeosaurs barked with laughter, their feathered arms gesturing wildly as they shared some joke at a nearby student's expense. Anon caught snippets of their words, laced with mockery and venom.
He hunched his shoulders, trying to drown out the noise. His thoughts churned in tandem with the chaos around him.
It's the first day, and already there's a group who knows how dangerous I can be. They don't see me as a harmless human—not like the others. They probably even rate me as more dangerous than the average combatant. He glanced at a pair of triceratops girls locking horns in a playful but intense display of dominance. One of them snorted loudly, shaking her head and flinging droplets of sweat across the crowd. Screw this. This isn't going as planned at all.
Anon clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around the strap of his bag. I need to lay low, to hide my power level. So far, they don't know how competent I am in a fight. I was lucky most of them were smaller theropods—fast, but their definition of strength doesn't scale like a large carnivore or herbivore.
He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to calm down. If I'm lucky, I can use the excuse that real fragment users with basking powers are way stronger than me—factors of ten, maybe hundreds. I'd pale in comparison to them. But damn it, I shouldn't have gone all out on that guard. I had no choice, but... still.
The crowd around him shifted like a living tide, and Anon moved with it, stepping out into the front gardens. The noise didn't lessen, but the open air made it easier to breathe.
The gardens were a sensory overload. Vibrant flowers bloomed in an explosion of colors, their petals brushing against towering prehistoric ferns. The air was heavy with the mingling aromas of roasting meat and sweet, overripe fruit from the food stalls that lined the pathways. Vendors shouted over one another, hawking skewers of charred, juicy cuts alongside bowls of glistening berries.
Anon walked slowly, his gaze darting around as he took in the sights. The students here were as varied as the plants—some clustered in tight groups, laughing loudly, while others prowled the edges alone, their eyes scanning for potential threats or opportunities.
A female spinosaurus in a sleek, form-fitting uniform strutted past, her elongated tail swaying with deliberate confidence. She didn't so much as glance at Anon, but her presence made the air feel heavier, her predatory aura an unspoken warning to anyone who might think to challenge her.
Anon moved past the stalls and into the main school building. The shift in atmosphere was immediate. The architecture was a blend of gothic and rainforest, with towering stone pillars wrapped in creeping vines and glowing, bio-luminescent fungi. Fog machines pumped a steady stream of mist into the air, giving the neon lights a hazy, ethereal glow that danced along the damp stone walls. The school's philosophy was reflected in its design—jungle rules, survival of the fittest.
Everywhere he turned, there were reminders of that philosophy. The walls were plastered with posters of past students, their names and accomplishments etched in bold letters. CEOs, politicians, military leaders—people who had clawed their way to the top, their faces frozen in sneers and smug grins.
Your life begins and ends in high school, Anon thought, his footsteps echoing faintly against the stone floor. Every screw-up here follows you forever. Your diploma isn't just a piece of paper—it's your ticket to the top or a mark of shame that'll haunt you to the grave.
Everywhere he looked, there were reminders of how high the stakes were. The achievements of past—they were weaponized. Every humiliation, every failure, every mistake would follow you for the rest of your life, and it would follow your family, their family, your community, and your entire species. And the grudges? Those were forever, too.
the people who write history, dont forget. but history might forget you ever existed, because they wanted it too.
No one knows me here, he reminded himself, his thoughts swirling. I can be whoever I want to be. Everyone else has dirt on them from their previous schools, but I'm a ghost. I have a chance to start fresh.
This is it. The rules of the jungle. Everything you can take, you take.
It wasn't uncommon for new students to arrive at Dino High midway through the year. On paper, it was due to the school's elite status and constant student transfers from other prestigious academies. In reality, slots opened up all the time—not because of graduations, but because of accidents. Tragedies. Or, more bluntly, the frequent disappearances and untimely deaths that plagued the campus.
"Due to youthful conflicts" was the school's euphemism of choice. A colorful, sanitized phrase to sweep all manner of violent altercations under the rug. Students called it what it really was—fighting to the death. Rivalries turned lethal, vendettas ending in blood, and even the occasional "struggle snuggles," though the school's PR team made damn sure no record of those existed. But those who knew... knew.
Anon had done his homework. Forums and shady back channels whispered the truth about the place, the kind of information you wouldn't find on an official school tour. All it took to loosen a few tongues online were some gaming skins and a handful of credits. It was worth it to get the insider details. The school didn't just tolerate chaos—it thrived on it.
In fact, it wasn't just encouraged. It was expected.
Here, everything from missing persons to mysterious injuries was brushed under the guise of natural selection. The strong thrived. The weak disappeared. And the administration conveniently turned a blind eye, all in the name of "empowering the next generation of leaders."
As Anon walked the halls, he felt the tension thick in the air. The students weren't just rivals here—they were predators, circling each other with hungry eyes and twitching tails, masking fear with overconfidence. Every movement, every word exchanged between them carried an edge of caution. Conversations quieted as soon as someone new entered the room, bodies stiffened when backs were exposed. No one felt safe.
It was jarring for him to see dinos like this. Normally, they walked the earth with an arrogant ease, radiating power and dominion. But here, even they weren't so secure. Here, their supremacy over the world wasn't guaranteed. In these halls, their dominance could be challenged, chipped away, or outright shattered. And the history of Dino High had proven it—again and again. These sacred grounds bore the scars of legends, moments when even dinosaurs had fallen to non-dinos. It was a bitter truth they'd tried to erase, banning humans and other species for decades in an attempt to protect their pride.
But they'd grown soft. Complacent.
Anon's lips twitched into a faint smile as he felt that sharp, primal edge return to him. It was fitting, wasn't it? For a human to hunt, to study the weaknesses of an animal and exploit them to his advantage. That was the essence of what humans did—of what they were. And now, as he walked these halls, the roles had shifted. They were the ones living with one eye open, glancing over their shoulders, afraid of what might come.
He passed a group of theropod girls standing by the lockers, their colorful skirts swaying as they laughed and gossiped. But as soon as he drew near, their voices cut off like a blade. Their eyes darted to him, wide with unease, clutching their bags close like a shield. Their postures were stiff, their bodies still. Even the swish of their tails slowed. They held their breaths as though he might strike if they made the wrong move.
They can sense it, he thought, almost amused. Even with the mask he wore, the scent of death still leaked out of him, an aura he couldn't fully suppress. It clung to him like smoke, impossible to wash away. And though he knew he needed to rein it in, to blend in better, he couldn't help but savor the way it felt.
It was intoxicating.
This—this fear radiating off of them—was the world they had created. They had forced non-dinos like him to live every single day in the outside world as prey, always afraid, always hunted. Now? Now the tables had turned. That same anxiety they had weaponized for so long was etched onto their faces. Their darting eyes. Their hesitant movements.
This is what it feels like to have power, Anon thought, a faint shiver running through him. It was almost euphoric. For the first time in years, he felt a rush of freedom, a kind of release.
He was no longer just prey. He was something far worse.
And it was only the beginning.