Months had passed since the battle against Dragorak Alpha.
Draven, now 13 years old, walked through the deep forest. His agile, muscular body was marked by scars from previous battles. His long black dreadlocks fell to his shoulders, and his violet eyes shone intensely. Every movement he made was practiced, every blow calculated—the forest was his second home and his battlefield.
Suddenly, three creatures appeared before him:
Kryphid—a reptilian predator with tentacles on its head and sharp claws.
Gorefang—a quadrupedal wolf with enormous fangs and black spines that exuded acidic vapor.
Torrak—a monstrous gorilla with bony protrusions on its shoulders and brutal physical strength.
Draven advanced immediately. He already knew the attack patterns of most of the forest's monsters, so the fight was intense but quick:
A punch infused with Armament Haki struck Torrak, partially knocking it down. A blade of Noctharum cut the Kryphid, stunning it.
The Gorefang charged, but Draven dodged, rolling beneath its paws and striking its back with precision.
In a few moments, the three monsters were defeated, but still alive—long enough to test his skill.
It was at this moment that Draven noticed something different.
The Great Sage spoke, his voice firm:
Ding: Enough energy to create shadow soldiers.
Add a command.
Draven blinked, surprised, and then extended his hand:
— Rise!
The shadows of the fallen monsters began to condense behind him:
The Kryphid raised its tentacles, ready to attack on command.
The Gorefang rose, its eyes gleaming obediently.
The Torrak rose, muscles tense, awaiting instructions.
He could give basic commands: positioning, attack, or defense. For the first time, Draven realized the potential to create an army from the monsters he had just defeated.
As he watched his new shadows, a distant roar caught his attention.
It was different from the sound of the monsters in the clearing—a battle was raging elsewhere in the forest.
Curious, Draven approached silently, hidden among trees and bushes. In the distance, he saw a young warrior facing an unstable monster, its wild energy throwing branches and stones in all directions.
She was Zayra, the legendary Varkari: unruly dark red hair, a long, constantly moving tail, piercing golden eyes, and visible tribal markings on her arms.
Draven simply watched.
The monster charged again, and Zayra dodged with agility, striking with precision until, finally, she brought the creature down single-handedly.
She took a deep breath, exhausted, and it was at that moment that she realized someone was watching.
Golden eyes met Draven's violet ones, hidden among the shadows of the forest.