Chapter 135: Rumble in the Jungle

“Get up, little cat.”

The insult hung in the dusty air, heavier than the humidity.

Kael wiped the blood from his forehead, his golden eyes narrowing. The guilt that had crippled him moments ago began to recede, replaced by the familiar, hot surge of an Alpha’s pride. He might have failed his clan, he might have been a monster, but he would be damned if he let this usurper spit on him in his own home.

Slowly, deliberately, Kael rose to his feet.

He was an inch shorter than the Black Tiger King, and in his beastman form, he looked leaner, less monstrous. But Kael straightened his spine, expanding his chest until he looked less like a battered, rejected king and more like a warrior out for blood.

“You sit on a rock and call yourself a King,” Kael spat, his voice low and vibrating with menace. “But you smell like a scavenger. You smell like the Wastelands.”

Carik’s grin widened, stretching the scars on his face.

“The Wastelands breed survivors, White Tiger King. The forest breeds… pets.”

Carik didn’t wait. There was no hesitation in his movements as he launched himself toward Kael.

It was a tackle meant to shatter ribs. Kael sidestepped at the last second, instinct taking over. He pivoted, driving his elbow into Carik’s side with a sickening thud.

It should have dropped him. It would have dropped any normal beastman.

Carik didn’t even flinch.

He spun around with terrifying speed, his massive arm swinging like a tree trunk. His fist connected with Kael’s jaw.

CRACK.

Kael flew backward, skidding through the dirt until he hit the remains of a stone wall. Pain exploded in his skull, white and blinding.

“Is that it?” Carik jeered, stalking toward him, his heavy loincloth swaying. “Is that the power of the legendary White Tiger King? You hit like a cub!”

Kael spat out a mouthful of blood and a tooth. He grinned.

“I’m just warming up.”

Kael roared, launching himself off the wall. He met Carik in the center of the clearing, and the two Alphas collided in a flurry of fists and claws.

It was brutal. It was unrefined. It was a street brawl between jungle gods.

Carik fought dirty. He gouged at Kael’s eyes, he bit Kael’s shoulder, he kneed him in the groin. He was a fighter who had learned that honor got you killed and brutality got you fed.

Kael countered with technique. He weaved under Carik’s haymakers, landing precise, punishing blows to the throat and solar plexus. He used Carik’s momentum against him, flipping the massive black tiger beastman over his hip and slamming him into the packed earth.

But Carik was durable. He took every hit with a laugh, shaking off concussions like they were flea bites.

“You are soft!” Carik roared, catching Kael’s fist in his large palm. He squeezed, the sound of knuckles grinding filling the air. “You spent too much time playing house with your mammal! You forgot how to kill!”

Carik headbutted Kael, sending him staggering back.

“Vara told me all about her,” Carik taunted, wiping blood from his broken nose. “The little red-haired thing. Maybe after I peel your skin off, I’ll go find her. I wonder how loud she’ll scream.”

That did it.

The world went red.

“You will not touch her!” Kael screamed.

He didn’t just attack; he exploded. He unleashed a barrage of strikes so fast they blurred, driving Carik back step by step. He was fueled by pure, unadulterated protectiveness.

Carik stumbled, finally looking surprised. He wiped a fresh gash on his cheek.

“Good,” Carik grunted, his yellow eyes glowing. “Finally. A challenge.”

He took a step back, his chest heaving. The air around him began to distort, dark energy crackling like static.

“But I am bored of this weak form,” Carik announced, his voice dropping an octave. “Let us see if you can handle the true weight of a King.”

Carik threw his head back and roared.

The sound was deafening. His bones cracked and reshaped with wet, sickening snaps. His bronze skin stretched and tore as dark fur erupted from his pores. He grew larger, wider, taller.

In seconds, the beastman was gone.

Standing in his place was a monster.

A massive Black Tiger, easily twice the size of a normal beast. His fur was the color of a moonless night, rippling over muscles that looked like boulders. White scars littered his flank like lightning strikes. His fangs were the length of daggers, dripping with saliva.

The White Tiger Clan gasped, shrinking back in terror. Even Vara looked at her mate with a mixture of lust and fear.

The Black Tiger let out a roar that shook the leaves off the trees. The pressure was immense—an aura of pure dominance that forced weaker beastmen to their knees.

Carik looked down at Kael. His massive maw opened, and to the horror of the onlookers, speech rumbled from the beast’s throat—deep, distorted, and terrifyingly loud.

“SHIFT!” Carik roared, his voice shaking the very earth. “Show me your beast, White Tiger King! Or do you want to die in that weak form?”

Kael stood his ground, looking up at the towering beast. His heart hammered against his ribs. He knew he couldn’t win this in his current form. Carik was too big, too strong.

He needed to shift. He needed the apex predator.

“Fine,” Kael breathed, closing his eyes. “You want the beast? You get the beast.”

He reached deep inside himself. He reached for the burning core of his power, the primal spirit that lived in his soul. He pulled at the connection, willing his bones to break, willing his fur to grow. He visualized his massive white paws, his razor claws, his deadly fangs.

He pushed. He strained. The veins in his neck popped with the effort.

…

Nothing.

Kael’s eyes snapped open.

He looked down at his hands. No fur. No claws.

Panic, cold and sharp, pierced his chest.

He tried again. He screamed internally, commanding the shift. ’Come out! Now!’

Silence.

It was as if the door to his beast was locked. The White Tiger did not answer.

Kael stood there, a small, half-naked beastman, staring up at a five-ton killing monstrosity.

Carik lowered his massive head, his hot breath washing over Kael. The Black Tiger chuffed, a sound of mocking confusion that quickly turned into cruel realization.

Kael’s blood ran cold.

He couldn’t shift.

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