I am the predator here

The rustling of the underbrush broke the tranquil silence of the forest, a faint sound that pricked at Derek's senses. He turned his gaze toward the source of the disturbance, his expression marked with a deep frown. The stench of death, faint yet unmistakable, seemed to linger in the air, intertwining with the scent of the woods.

Though Derek had not retained the title of God of Death in this world, his connection to death had not waned. His sensitivity to the presence of death remained sharp, an intrinsic part of his being that transcended the boundaries of his past life. It was this heightened perception that led him to regard the rustling bush with a mixture of wariness and anticipation.