3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Vornas

I stand tall, my tail flicking as I survey the arena. The air is thick with humidity, carrying the scents from the distant jungle, a mix of exotic flora and the faint musk of hidden predators. Overhead, camera drones buzz like oversized insects, their lenses glinting in the dappled sunlight that filters through the colosseum's broken walls.

The Host, with his bizarre body that's an amalgamation of bird and machine, struts before me. Those ridiculous feathered eyebrows of his waggle as he grins, clearly relishing the moment.

"Vornas!" he trills, his voice carrying that same forced cheer I've come to expect. "It's time for your first big decision of the season!"

I resist the urge to snarl. Instead, I flash him a sharp-toothed smile, playing along for the cameras. "Do enlighten me, my gracious host," I say, my voice a low rumble.

The Host's grin widens, if that's even possible. "You have a choice to make. Your planet and its three dominant species are plagued with a disease that has made your females infertile. My lab has created cures individualized for each race. We can synthesize it into a multi-cure that will work for the Saberkai, Aquarians, and Drakari alike. Or, if you so choose, you can bring home a cure that will only work on your own people. What will it be?"

My ears prick forward as I consider. It's hardly a dilemma at all. "I choose the single-race cure, of course," I declare, injecting confidence into every syllable. I suspect the other kings made the same choice for their own race, and I'm not about to leave my people behind.

The Host's beak curves into a delighted grin. "Excellent choice, Vornas. You've made the right decision."

His approval puzzles me, but I don't let it show. I made my choice for my people, not to please this eccentric game master. Let the other races rely on their vast egg reserves. We Saberkai don't have the option of hatching a brand new generation, so we'll need every advantage we can get.

"And that means," the Host continues, his metal claws tap-tapping as he circles me, building suspense, "the game can begin!"

A surge of adrenaline courses through my veins at those words. This is what I've been waiting for—the chance to prove myself, to secure the future of my people.

But before I can ask what's next, a low hum fills the air. I turn to see a transport pod landing nearby, its sleek surface shimmering in the light. The door slides open with a hiss, and out steps…

My breath catches in my throat.

It's her—the human female I saw two seasons ago. Chloe. She's even more captivating up close. Camera drones swarm around her like excited insects, but I barely notice them.

Our eyes meet, and time seems to slow. I drink in every detail of her face, from the curve of her lips to the scar that marks her cheek. That scar… it speaks of survival, of strength. Perhaps she's not as helpless as she appears.

A mix of emotions swirls within me—attraction, curiosity, and a hint of hesitation. She's so small compared to me, so fragile, yet there's a fire in her eyes.

I puff out my chest slightly, knowing that I could easily best any male of her species, assuming they're only a little larger than her. Surely, she'll be impressed by my strength, my prowess as a warrior king. But then a nagging doubt creeps in.

I may be a king, but I'm young, inexperienced with females. What if she sees through my bravado? What if she finds me… lacking?

I push the thought aside. There's no time for such questions. She could be a valuable ally in this game, and perhaps… even more. The idea sends a thrill through me.

Before I can make a move or say a word, the Host claps his hands, the sound echoing through the arena.

"Esteemed viewers across the galaxy!" he crows. "This season of Loop Run will be the most important race yet. The very fate of Mythos hangs in the balance, in more ways than one!"

I narrow my eyes, my ears twitching forward. What game is he playing now? Surely this is just another ploy to boost viewership. After all, isn't that what we're here for? To entertain some distant, unseen audience?

The Host doesn't elaborate further, leaving me to ponder his cryptic words. I glance at Chloe, noting the confusion in her eyes. She meets my gaze, and for a moment, I'm lost in her strange yet beautiful alien face.

"Now," the Host continues, snapping my attention back to him, "let me explain this season's challenge." He grins, his beak glinting in the sunlight. "Vornas, Chloe, you must survive three artificial hunters in a lush jungle environment."

I blink, my tail freezing mid-swish. Artificial hunters? What in the name of the Mother Trees is he talking about?

The Host continues, "Now, let me tell you a little bit about your hunters. These aren't your average predators, oh no!" The Host's voice rises with excitement. "They're mechanical marvels, built from the ground up to track, pursue, and kill. No organic matter, no brain, no soul—just pure, relentless hunting instinct!"

My fur stands on end despite the oppressive jungle heat.

I've faced countless challenges in The Loop, but this… This is unprecedented.

"Imagine, if you will," the Host continues, his eyes gleaming, "limbs like my own prosthetics, but without the burden of flesh. They don't tire, they don't fear, they don't feel."

My tail swishes uneasily behind me as I try to picture these soulless hunters. How does one outmaneuver a being that never sleeps, never hesitates?

"They're equipped with the latest in tracking technology," the Host gushes. "Heat sensors, motion detectors, even pheromone analyzers! You can run, but can you truly hide?"

For the first time since stepping into this arena, a doubt forms in my gut. I clamp down on it, refusing to show weakness, but it lingers like a persistent itch I can't quite scratch.

I steal a glance at Chloe, curious about her reaction. Her jaw is set, eyes blazing with determination, but I catch a hint of fear in their depths. Strangely, that shared unease comforts me.

"And the best part?" The Host's voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. "They learn. With every encounter, every chase, they will adapt. Evolve. Become even more efficient hunters!"

My claws flex involuntarily, but I force a lazy smirk onto my face. After all, I've danced with danger and flirted with disaster more times than I can count.

The Host's demeanor shifts, his usual theatrics fading as he addresses us with an unexpected frankness. "I should also note that the camera drones you're accustomed to won't be present this season."

My ears perk up at this news, and I catch Chloe's questioning glance.

"Instead," the Host continues, "our viewers will experience the hunt through the eyes of your mechanical pursuers. Their advanced optics will provide a continuous feed to our production team, offering an unprecedented level of immersion for our audience."

I feel a mix of relief and unease at this revelation. On one hand, the absence of buzzing drones will make stealth easier. On the other hand, we'll be truly alone out here. No eyes in the sky, no invisible watchers. Just us, and the hunters.

The isolation settles over me, and I can't decide if I prefer this raw, unfiltered version of the game or not.

The Host continues droning on, saying something about power sources and pursuit algorithms—whatever that means. I find my attention wandering, my gaze sliding over to Chloe. The human female stands there, all soft curves and defiance, looking about as out of place in this arena as a fish in a tree. A rather delectable fish, I should add.

"Tell me, my feathered friend," I purr, interrupting the Host's monologue. "These mechanical marvels of yours—do they have any weaknesses?"

"Yeah," Chloe joins in with my taunting, much to my surprise. "Like an off switch, maybe?"

The Host sputters, his metallic claws clicking in agitation. I can't help but grin. How I love ruffling his feathers…

"Never mind," I say, knowing there's no chance he'd ever give away these hunters' weaknesses anyhow. "I'll find a way to dismantle these machines easily enough, I'm sure." I flash a cocky grin, but beneath my bravado, a new worry gnaws at me.

How will Chloe, this fragile creature, fare against such relentless pursuers? She has no claws to defend herself, no rippling muscles to fight with, not even a coat of fur to protect her soft skin.

Yet, as I study her, an inexplicable pull tugs at my chest. Her scent calls to something primal within me. I find myself wanting to shield her, to curl my body around hers and growl at anything that dares approach.

But can I afford such a distraction? My people are counting on me to survive, to return victorious and with a cure.

I clench my jaw. The conflict rages within me—duty to my race warring with a sudden, overwhelming urge to protect this strange female. It's madness. I've not so much as said a word to her, yet already she's wormed her way under my skin.

I shake my head, trying to clear it. I can't let myself be compromised, not when so much is at stake. But as Chloe's eyes meet mine, I know I'm already lost.

I push the thoughts aside, stretching languidly in the sweltering heat. "Well then," I drawl, turning my attention back to the Host. "Shall we give these hunters a proper run? I do so love toying with my prey."

As I stand there, basking in the Host's flustered glare, I can't quite shake the nagging feeling that this time, I might need more than just my charm and quick wit to see us through.

But then again, where's the fun without a little danger?