THE MALEVOLENT CREATURE

The air around Leo grew thick, suffocating in its intensity. The Mercadian level komodo dragon before him exuded an aura so powerful it pressed against the very fabric of reality, sending vibrations through the ground and the wind alike. Every shift of the colossal beast's form radiated dominance, and with a single guttural growl, it could summon millions of lesser formlings.

Leo stood firm, his legs planted against the trembling earth, but his mind was racing. He looked down at Leone, cradled in his arms. Her once sharp, confident demeanor was nowhere to be seen now. Her face was pale, her body limp. The wound on her side had bled profusely, soaking her torn uniform and dripping onto Leo's own bloodstained chest.

"Just great," Leo muttered under his breath, his tone laced with frustration. His thoughts swirled with worry. Leone wasn't just injured—she was utterly unconscious, her breathing shallow. He examined her wound quickly. It was covered in blood, too much blood, its bright yellow hue stark against the darkened battlefield.

Leo froze for a moment, realizing the weight of their situation. Leone's blood wasn't just a giveaway of her heritage—it was a beacon. The scent would travel miles, pulling every feral formling and commander-level beast within the region toward them. And now, standing in the shadow of a Mercadian-level formling who could destroy armies, Leo was out of options.

Especially with formling's only way of increasing their rank being to devour each other, wether a rank above or a rank below, it really didn't matter, this was the base worry of Leo, if the smell of blood was too strong it could not only attract an army but also a ravage beast like the one who stood Infront of him.

With a heavy exhale, he turned his attention back to the monstrous komodo dragon. Its massive form began to change, its body shifting and contorting with sickening cracks. The scales covering its immense frame began to shrink and tighten, revealing sinewy, humanoid features beneath. The thick, reptilian tail remained intact, coiling behind the creature like a whip of pure destruction.

The transformation was as unsettling as it was mesmerizing. Its serpentine golden eyes remained fixed on Leo, unblinking and cold. When the transformation was complete, what stood before Leo was no longer a hulking beast but a humanoid figure, tall and lean, its body adorned in dark green scales that shimmered faintly under the dim light. Its claws were elongated, its sharp teeth bared in a predatory grin.

The Mercadian's gaze flickered to Leone in Leo's arms. For a moment, those burning gold eyes widened ever so slightly, their intensity growing sharper.

"A commander?" the Mercadian said, his voice a low, guttural hiss. His words carried disbelief, his eyes narrowing as they traced Leone's exposed wound and the unmistakable yellow blood pooling from it.

Leo didn't flinch, though his body tensed. He could feel the weight of the Mercadian's scrutiny bearing down on him. The formling tilted his head, his expression shifting from curiosity to suspicion.

"No," the Mercadian murmured to himself. His voice was almost too quiet to hear over the howling wind. "Something's off." His serpentine gaze lingered on Leone, and doubt began to cloud his thoughts.

Though her blood bore the mark of a commander-level formling, there was an incongruity in her aura—a lie woven into the fabric of her existence. For a creature like this, deception wasn't just detectable; it was intolerable.

Leo's grip on Leone tightened as he considered his options. He couldn't afford to show weakness, not here, not now. The Mercadian was assessing him, dissecting every aspect of the situation with an almost predatory curiosity. Any sudden move could trigger an attack, and Leo knew all too well what would happen if this creature chose to act.

"This isn't right," Leo thought, his mind racing. "A Mercadian-level formling of this grade… How does the military not know about him? How has he stayed under the radar?" His gaze hardened as he pushed the questions aside. "No, it doesn't matter. What matters is survival. If I were alone, I could deal with him. But with her—"

He glanced down at Leone again, her face peaceful in unconsciousness, almost as if she were simply sleeping. His jaw clenched. "I can't act rashly. Not now."

The Mercadian was thinking much the same. His piercing gaze shifted back to Leo, his serpentine green eyes locking onto Leo's blue. For a moment, he seemed to be analyzing the man standing before him, a fellow Mercadian level carrying what appeared to be a commander-level formling.

"A Mercadian," the lizard-man hissed, his voice dripping with venomous intrigue. "Carrying a commander? Showing… mercy?" The words were a contradiction, an anomaly that gnawed at his instincts. The logic of the wild dictated that a Mercadian-level formling would never waste energy protecting a lesser being, especially not one bleeding so profusely that it could attract every predator for miles.

The silence stretched between them, a tension so palpable it felt as though the very air around them was vibrating with the weight of unspoken words. Both stood still, their minds locked in a silent war of calculation and restraint.

Leo's body was taut, his muscles coiled like a spring ready to snap. He could feel the heat of the Mercadian's gaze, the faint hum of the creature's energy vibrating through the air. It was like standing in the eye of a storm, the calm before an inevitable eruption of chaos.

Yet neither of them moved.

Leo's thoughts swirled in a haze of determination and doubt. "He's trying to figure me out, just like I'm trying to figure him out. But this isn't a fight I can afford to start."

Across from him, the Mercadian's thoughts mirrored his own. "This one isn't like the others. He's… calculated. Deliberate. Why is he protecting her?"

Their motives clashed silently, their wills colliding in an unspoken standoff. The barren land around them seemed to hold its breath, waiting for one of them to break the fragile equilibrium.

But neither did.

For now, both predator and prey stood their ground, their instincts telling them the same thing: do not rush.