Power was not quiet.
It did not settle gently inside Pluto.
It expanded.
For a few sharp seconds after absorbing the five cores, the world became thin.
Heat pulsed everywhere.
Not vague signatures — defined bodies. Seven of them. Fleeing. Alive.
Predators.
Retreating through the forest in scattered arcs.
His pupils constricted.
The mist had thinned unnaturally, as if burned away by residual force. Air felt sharper in his lungs. His mark bubbled beneath his skin — not hot enough to cripple, but volatile.
Opportunity.
He didn't look at Saul.
He didn't ask.
He moved.
Roots blurred beneath his feet as he sprinted. Every impact against soil returned cleanly through his muscles. The forest felt slower than him for once.
Ahead — movement.
One of the burned predators staggered through brush, its gait uneven from fire damage.
Pluto lit a resin pouch mid-stride and hurled it.
The pouch detonated early — a sharp concussive crack in mid-air.
Fire splashed wide. Not precise.
The beast screamed and lost balance, tumbling into mud.
Pluto closed distance in seconds.
He struck once.
Too clean.
Too simple.
The blade cut deep but not decisive.
The predator's eye snapped toward him — rage immediate.
It moved faster than expected.
A claw ripped across his thigh.
Another tore into his chest.
The pain was not dull — it was bright.
He stepped back instinctively.
Blood ran warm.
Mistake.
The predator lunged.
He shifted weight late but just enough — redirecting its momentum, slamming it sideways into sludge.
They fell together.
Mud swallowed his elbow.
He struck again. And again.
Brutal.
Close.
No elegance left.
Eventually the beast stopped fighting.
Pluto remained kneeling over it longer than necessary.
Breathing hard.
Clarity returned like cold water.
He couldn't take all seven.
Not like this.
Pain pulsed through both wounds with every heartbeat.
He lifted the fresh core, staring at it.
Continue?
Retreat?
Leaves parted.
He barely registered the change in airflow before impact.
A massive shape tore through the treeline.
It resembled a rhinoceros in weight and charge, but its body was layered with chitin plating woven between thick vines. Bone and fiber reinforced each other. Its horn curved forward like a battering ram grown from bark.
It missed him by inches.
The ground exploded where he had been kneeling.
Pluto rolled, heart detonating inside his chest.
The beast pivoted with terrifying balance for its size.
Not clumsy.
Engineered.
He hurled his last resin pouch as it turned.
This one exploded properly.
A thunderous boom.
The force flung the creature backward through two trees.
But when smoke thinned—
It stood.
Unharmed.
The chitin had absorbed the concussive wave.
Its horn lowered.
And it charged again.
***
Pluto ran.
Not blindly.
Angular.
Never straight.
The rhino-beast smashed through trees without slowing, bark splintering like dry bone. Its weight shook the earth.
He veered right around a thick trunk — the beast chose to crash through instead of curve.
Left over a low ditch.
It leapt it.
Too agile.
He cut toward denser growth.
Branches whipped across his face.
His wounded leg screamed, slowing him slightly.
The rhino adjusted.
Every time he changed direction, it recalculated faster.
Too fast.
Heat signatures flickered at the edge of his perception.
The other predators were returning.
They were closing the net.
The forest narrowed.
He sprinted across a shallow patch of swamp water. The surface sucked at his feet, slowing him. Behind him, the rhino didn't slow — its weight displaced water violently but did not sink.
It was built for this terrain.
He vaulted over a fallen trunk.
The rhino demolished it.
Wood fragments tore into his back as he landed.
Pain flashed white.
Keep moving.
He cut sharply between two narrow trees barely shoulder-width apart.
The rhino smashed into one, cracking it.
It recalibrated again.
Too intelligent for brute force.
To his left — three smaller heat signatures advancing parallel.
To his right — two more.
They weren't chasing randomly.
They were steering him.
Forward.
Toward lower ground.
Toward deeper swamp.
He inhaled sharply.
The mark flared.
Heat concentrated behind his eyes.
The eel tightened along his arm.
***
A memory surfaced.
Not clean.
Not whole.
A younger version of him. Back when he was in a comfortable place.
Training ground.
Not forest.
Stone courtyard.
His martial arts teacher standing across from him, wooden staff in hand. At that point, the arts where the thing in town. And he just had to be part of it.
"You don't fight strength," The man had said calmly.
"You fight trajectory."
Pluto had lunged then — direct, aggressive, but the man had stepped aside effortlessly, guiding the motion with two fingers against his shoulder.
"You waste energy matching force."
The younger Pluto had scowled.
"Then what?"
The man's eyes had been unreadable.
"You survive long enough for the opponent to create their own opening."
***
The present snapped back violently.
Suddenly, he couldn't remember what he just thought about. For a moment, even his name seemed out of reach. The last few seconds had blurred into nothingness, and strangely, not but a vague picture of the Owl remained. He frowned deeply, but that wasn't the immediate threat, or concern rather.
The rhino was close.
Too close.
Its horn clipped his side, tearing fabric and skin as it grazed him.
He didn't slow.
He changed rhythm.
Short burst.
Pause.
Sharp cut.
The beast overshot slightly.
Just slightly.
He doubled back across its blind angle.
It skidded in mud.
One of the smaller predators lunged at that exact moment.
Pluto dropped low and let it collide with the rhino's flank.
Snarls erupted.
Good.
He vaulted onto a slanted rock.
The rhino charged again — full momentum.
He waited until the last possible second.
Then he jumped sideways.
The horn shattered the rock.
Fragments sprayed.
The force carried the beast half a step too far.
Small misalignments.
Tiny victories.
But the smaller predators were regaining formation.
They fanned out again.
Three ahead.
Two behind.
Rhino central.
Net closing.
His injured leg buckled slightly.
That was enough.
One predator lunged.
He slashed its throat mid-air — but couldn't complete the kill.
Another leapt.
Claws raked across his back.
He staggered forward.
The rhino charged through them all indiscriminately.
It didn't care about friendly positioning.
It wanted him.
He dove into deeper swamp instinctively.
Water surged to waist height.
Movement slowed dramatically.
The rhino entered anyway.
Water exploded upward.
It gained.
Predators circled along the edges.
Trap complete.
Pluto's breathing became ragged.
His vision narrowed.
He miscalculated.
He'd chased opportunity.
Now he was prey.
The rhino lowered its head.
Full charge in shallow water.
He tried to shift.
Too late.
The horn struck his abdomen.
Not piercing — but hitting like a thrown boulder.
The world inverted.
He was airborne.
Water vanished beneath him.
He crashed across swamp surface, skipped once like thrown stone, then slammed into mud and driftwood.
Breath gone.
Sound distant.
Shapes blurred.
Heat signatures closing in.
Seven.
No—
Six.
The one he had slain earlier dimmed.
The others lunged.
Time stretched thin.
His mark pulsed violently.
Something sharpened behind his eyes.
Not strength.
Not rage.
Clarity.
The battle master instinct ignited fully.
Not reckless aggression.
Will.
Precise will to live.
He rolled just as claws struck where his throat had been.
He used the rhino's forward momentum again, kicking into its planted foreleg, altering its balance by inches.
A smaller predator collided with its shoulder.
Chaos fractured their coordination.
He didn't fight wildly now.
He moved economically.
Redirect.
Deflect.
Never meet force head-on.
He couldn't win.
But he could survive long enough for them to collide.
And predators, unlike humans, did not coordinate perfectly under frustration.
The rhino roared.
The sound shook the swamp.
And for the first time—
It felt irritation.
Not dominance.
Pluto staggered backward into deeper shadow.
Still surrounded.
Still bleeding.
Still alive.
And somewhere, far behind him, Saul would feel the noise.
And somewhere else entirely—
The forest would register another causality shift.
Because this was not supposed to be survivable.
But he was still standing.