The clearing around the ruined hunter cabin transformed into a pristine theatre of absolute devastation as Zeven descended upon the remaining members of the tribal tracking squad. The damp morning air hung thick with the heavy iron scent of freshly spilled blood and the bitter aroma of scorched pine needles crushed under heavy combat boots. Severed pieces of advanced laboratory armour and shattered metallic components lay scattered across the blood-soaked moss, glistening under the weak grey light filtering through the dense canopy. Zeven moved like an unholy gale of crimson light and violet shadow, his extended claws slicing through reinforced steel plates with terrifying ease. The desperate cries of the specialized trackers filled the forest, their technical training completely failing t
