Chapter 30: Stygareth’s Olfaction
Orion crouched low, his breathing shallow, his presence a mere ripple in the dense underbrush. The jungle pressed in around him, the humid air thick with the scent of damp earth and blood.
Twenty meters ahead, the panther-beast slinked through the foliage, its muscles coiling and uncoiling beneath its adaptive coat, shifting colors with every step. It moved with eerie grace, a predator engineered for perfection, but it wasn't the only one.
It should have smelled him. The beast's olfactory senses were unrivaled, capable of detecting the faintest shift in pheromones from kilometers away. But Orion had prepared for this.
The air here reeked of death.
Three carcasses lay rotting in the undergrowth, their metallic tang saturating the surroundings. The beast wasn't alarmed by it—this was a feeding ground. A place where scavengers gathered, where predators like it feasted.
Where it felt safe.
Orion's grip tightened around his blade. Four meters.
The beast hesitated. Its ears flicked, and the sleek lines of its body went rigid. Some primal instinct whispered to it—danger.
Orion didn't give it time to listen.
He moved.
A single, explosive step.