Book 1: Chapter 2 – Simian the Lion King

Jabari didn't even make it ten meters before his escape route was cut off.

From the bushes ahead, three men burst into view, their ragged clothes hanging off them like tattered rags. Filth caked their skin, the stench of unwashed bodies curling through the air.

Behind him, he heard the unmistakable, gruff voice of one of his pursuers.

"Haha, looks like we found you just in time! Why don't you hand ov-"

The words died mid-sentence.

The same voice, which had moments ago brimmed with amusement, now erupted in horrified disbelief.

"What the fuck are you doing, brat?!"

Jabari did the only thing he could in his situation.

He stripped!

"Not again!" The bald leader of the group groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Somebody, stop him – now!"

Unfortunately, it was already too late.

Jabari moved with the efficiency of a seasoned madman, his movements so fluid, so practiced, that by the time the nearest of the four men had barely closed the gap to two meters, he stood before them in all his naked glory.

Well, almost.

The sandals stayed on.

The leader, a muscle-bound brute with a sun-scorched, gleaming scalp, took a cautious step forward.

"Hurry up and give us the meat, boy!"

And then-

"Woof!"

Jabari barked.

Like a feral dog, he lunged – hip first.

"What the...?!"

The bald man leapt backward in alarm. But before he could recover-

"Meooowww."

Jabari twisted in mid-air, flipping toward the second attacker with feline grace, his claws (fingers) outstretched, his wild eyes gleaming.

The man yelped, stumbling back in panic.

He was a grown man, a predator of the slums – yet, at this moment, he wanted nothing to do with the naked lunatic cat-boy charging at him.

"Enough with the act!" the leader snapped, rubbing his temples in frustration. "Everyone in the slums knows your tricks now, brat!"

Jabari ignored him entirely.

With the seriousness of a warrior preparing his final technique, he dropped onto all fours.

"Ribbit, ribbit."

The bald man twitched. A vein throbbed visibly on his forehead.

"Fuck this!"

That was the breaking point.

With a furious roar, the man lunged – his patience finally snapping.

But Jabari was ready.

At the exact moment the bald brute charged, Jabari made his move.

And it was unthinkable.

A golden arc cut through the air.

A warm spray.

A wet slap.

The leader staggered to a halt, frozen in place.

For a brief, fleeting second, he seemed to be in denial, as though his mind refused to process the crime against his dignity that had just occurred.

Then, it hit him.

"ARGHHHH! YOU PISSED ON ME, YOU SHITTY LITTLE BRAT!"

His roar of fury sent birds scattering from the trees above.

His rage was only intensified by his pain – for in his panicked attempt to evade Jabari's unspeakable attack, he had twisted his ankle.

Which meant he couldn't chase him down.

"DON'T JUST STAND THERE!" he bellowed, his eyes nearly bulging out of his skull. "GET HIM! NO – KILL HIM! I WANT THAT FUCKING BRAT DEAD!"

But there was a problem.

After witnessing their boss's humiliation firsthand, the other men weren't exactly eager to share his fate.

Jabari, however, had yet to finish.

"Ooh ooh, aah aah."

The sound was almost playful.

Monkey-like.

And then – he picked something up.

Something brown.

Something… solid.

The bald man's eyes widened in sheer horror.

"Boy, don't!" he barked, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice. "Don't you fucking dare!"

Jabari's eyes gleamed with wicked glee.

He dared.

The rabbit droppings sailed through the air like a gift from the heavens, spiralling toward their doomed target.

The bald leader tried to dodge, but Jabari's aim was perfect.

Splatter.

A wet noise.

A silence so profound, one could almost hear the wind whispering its condolences.

Then-

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"

The rage of a man desecrated by filth itself shook the ground.

But it was too late.

Jabari was already reaching for more ammunition.

His gaze swept toward the rest of the group.

They took one look at the steaming pile in his hand.

They understood.

And they ran.

The bald leader wiped the brown sludge from his eyes.

His chest heaved with rage.

His hands trembled.

But when his vision cleared-

His men were gone.

They had abandoned him.

"Well, I'll be seeing you," Jabari chirped.

With a casual air, he wrapped his clothes around the dead rabbits, concealing them from sight, and walked away.

Completely unbothered.

…

Jabari made his way back toward the slums, his weary body aching with every step. When he finally reached the footpath leading home, a low, raspy chuckle escaped his cracked lips.

Serves them right for trying to steal from a kid.

The memory of their bewildered, horrified faces played through his mind like a treasured performance. Scaring off would-be attackers had almost become an art form.

His first successful hunt had been eight years ago. He had been only seven, and after what felt like an eternity of effort, he'd finally managed to kill a lone squirrel.

It had been one of the proudest moments of his life to date.

That pride had lasted until he ran into another group of slum-dwellers.

The moment they spotted the fresh blood staining his tunic, their eyes darkened with hunger. His small hands had gripped the squirrel tightly, desperate to protect what was his.

He fought.

He lost.

They had beaten him black and blue and left him with nothing.

After that, every time he was ambushed following a successful hunt, he tried everything he could think of – running, negotiating, even hiding – but nothing worked.

Until one day, everything changed.

He had been relieving himself, hidden away behind a bush, when he sensed someone sneaking up behind him.

Desperate not to lose another hunt, he had turned to confront them, completely ignoring the fact that he was still half-naked.

The hesitation in their movements had been immediate.

It was then that an idea was born.

Instead of pulling up his trousers, he aimed – and fired.

The result had been glorious.

Since that fateful day, Jabari had refined his method like a craftsman perfecting his art. Each adjustment, each new trick, had been painstakingly tested until it reached its current peak.

And though he had been robbed more times than he could count, he bore no resentment.

This was the way of the slums.

There were too few resources to go around – food and water were worth more than gold.

Laws had been established to prevent stealing and fighting within the residential areas, but in the wilderness?

All rules vanished.

If you wanted to hunt, if you wanted to keep what you killed, you needed strength.

Jabari had no relatives. No gang. No allies. None that he could rely on in the wild anyway.

He was still just a child – a lone hunter, a boy forced to survive on wit instead of muscle.

And so he adapted.

Always!

Jabari had barely made it halfway back to the slums when a sound – an explosion – rippled through the distance.

His body froze.

"... Huh?"

Before his mind could even process what was happening, the ground beneath him trembled.

Then shook.

Then violently roared.

A moment later, Jabari was on his back.

The earth beneath him lurched like a wounded beast. Gritting his teeth, he rolled toward the nearest tree, gripping its sturdy roots with one hand while clutching his hard-earned dinner with the other.

The rumbling persisted.

And then-

"ROOAAARRR!"

A monstrous, earth-shattering howl tore through the air, ripping through the silence like a blade through flesh.

Jabari's ears rang. His body froze.

And then – he saw it.

A colossal beast crashed onto the footpath in front of him, its massive body leaving behind a smoking crater in the earth.

Jabari's breath caught in his throat.

It looked like a bear, but its tail was that of a snake. Its towering, two-story-tall body was covered in brown, dragon-like scales, now dripping with crimson.

Even in death, it was a terrifying sight.

But it was not the beast that shook Jabari to his core.

It was the creature that had killed it.

A deep, husky voice thundered through the battlefield.

"Don't tell me that's it. I expected so much more from the famous Hunter Syndicate!"

Jabari's head snapped toward the speaker, and the moment his eyes fell on him, only one word came to mind.

Wild.

The man stood atop the corpse of the fallen beast, a warrior carved from battle itself.

His sepia skin gleamed under the sunlight, accentuating the sheer power in his herculean frame.

Thick black curls cascaded down his back, framing a youthful face hidden beneath a dense, unkempt beard.

He was dressed in a long, sleeveless white robe, embroidered with violet-coloured tribal patterns that shimmered like lightning across fabric.

The robe should have made him look regal.

Instead, it only amplified the raw, untamed ferocity in his dark brown eyes.

And resting against his shoulder, like a mere accessory, was a giant, rectangular heavy sword – a weapon bigger than him.

Jabari had never seen anyone like him.

Never.

And then, following the warrior's line of sight, he saw him.

A second figure.

The figure approached slowly, methodically, draped in a long, black hooded robe.

In his hand, a wooden staff gleamed, glowing with esoteric runes. At its crown, a crimson gemstone pulsed with energy, like a heart beating with fury.

Then-

"Spirit of the Sun, heed my call..."

The voice was calm. Measured.

And filled with power.

A savage grin split the warrior's face.

"HAHA, GOOD MAN!" he roared. "I was afraid you'd run with your tail between your legs after I killed your little pet!"

But the mage did not flinch.

Instead, the gem atop his staff ignited, and a blazing sphere of fire erupted in front of him, growing larger, hotter, deadlier with each second.

Jabari could feel the heat from where he stood.

It burned.

It threatened to consume.

And yet-

The warrior laughed.

"HAHA, COME!"

With an earth-shaking leap, he charged.

His sword cleaved downward, aiming to split the mage in half.

"... [BURNING PILLAR]!"

The fireball exploded, transforming into a pillar of flame so colossal that it threatened to devour the heavens themselves.

Jabari barely had time to register the impact.

BOOM!

The blast sent him flying.

His body spun through the air.

But somehow – somehow – he still kept hold of his dinner.

The dust settled.

The mage stood tall, gazing at the smoke-filled crater with detached finality.

"Simian the Lion King… You were strong, but you let your arrogance get the better of you."

He turned.

And then-

The world spun.

His head fell.

His body collapsed.

Simian the Lion King never even looked back.

"It's hard to believe trash like you would even think about targeting the family of His Highness."

He swung his bloodied sword over his shoulder, picked up the mage's corpse, and sighed.

"You could've at least left your pet intact. It would've made for a fine feast."