A low, rumbling roar echoed across the sun-scorched plains, bouncing off dry acacia trees and rippling through the golden grass. The dying cries of the buffalo faded with the wind.
Its massive body, easily five hundred pounds of muscle and fury, finally collapsed with a thunderous crash, kicking up a cloud of dust and dry leaves. Blood soaked into the thirsty earth, dark and thick beneath the beast's twitching form.
Leon stood over the fallen buffalo, his golden fur matted with sweat and blood. His chest heaved as he panted, muscles trembling with effort. The fight had pushed him to his limit—every inch of his body ached, and the gash across his flank throbbed with heat.
He hadn't needed his bloodline's power this time. No strange surge, just raw instinct, sharpened reflexes, and brutal persistence.
The young buffalo had fought like a demon, head swinging wildly, hooves lashing out in desperation. Twice, it had nearly crushed Leon's skull. Once, it had clipped his shoulder, nearly dislocating it. But the final strike had been clean.
Leon had sunk his fangs deep into its throat, clamping down with everything he had, until the beast's thrashing slowed... then stopped. The glow in its dark eyes faded to dull emptiness.
He backed off, shaking his mane, sending blood spraying from his face. He was stained in red from muzzle to chest. Flies had already begun to swarm.
But he didn't care.
Victory.
Pure, hard-earned victory.
Leon approached again, crouching low. His eyes were cold, calculating. There was no ritual here. No need for celebration. Just survival.
With a savage jerk, he tore a chunk of steaming flesh from the buffalo's neck and swallowed it whole.
The meat was warm and fibrous, slick with fresh blood. As it slid down his throat, a deep growl rumbled in his chest—not a threat, but a primal satisfaction. Only the old, instinctive truth: kill, eat, grow stronger.
He tore into the carcass again, ripping away muscle and tendon, ignoring the sting in his wounds. The meat still twitched beneath his paws—its nerves reacting even after death.
This was strength.
This was life.
Every bite filled him with renewed vitality, the rich taste of iron and heat driving away his exhaustion. Blood clung to his muzzle, caking around his jaws. Bits of sinew clung to his teeth.
He ate fast and without pause, swallowing pounds of raw flesh until his belly hung heavy beneath him. Only when he felt nearly full did he finally stop, licking his chops and letting out a quiet huff.
The sun had dipped low, bleeding red across the horizon. Shadows stretched long across the savanna, and the air turned cool.
Leon's sharp eyes adjusted easily to the dark. The tapetum lucidum behind his irises caught the faint moonlight, reflecting a ghostly green glow. From the bushes, he might have looked like a demon in the dark.
Far off, he heard the distant whir of machinery.
A lone vehicle sat parked at the edge of the plains, half-hidden beneath thorny brush. Inside, a woman with dark skin and tight-curled hair peered through a camera lens, frustration etched into her face.
Shuri had been tracking Leon for days. A wildlife researcher from the Kroson Federation, she had come to the savanna to study social dynamics in lions—but had instead become obsessed with this lone young male. A lion unlike any she'd seen.
His actions defied the norms. He didn't follow a pride. He hunted alone and with terrifying precision.
"His intelligence is frightening," she murmured to her viewers, many of whom were still tuned in to her nighttime stream. "I came here to study primates. But this lion... he's on another level."
The chat exploded with questions. Is he evolving? Can you get closer? Try a drone! Shuri shook her head gently and whispered into the mic, "Too risky. He's not just aware... he's watching me back."
She shivered slightly as a breeze slipped into the car, despite the heater humming gently.
Outside, Leon's gaze briefly flicked toward the vehicle. Not with fear, but with awareness.
Then he turned away, his body moving into the tall grass, vanishing into the shadows of the night like a ghost made of flesh and bone.
Shuri lowered her camera slowly. "He's gone again."
The screen faded to static as the night swallowed the plains whole.