The revenge of the dethroned king

Aris was in shock. About a dozen fennecs had gathered, surrounding the prey he'd just killed with so much effort. None of them even seemed to notice him—at least, not until they spotted the second dead fennec lying near his feet.

Some of the beasts turned toward Aris, growling.

That's when he fully realized where he had ended up. He had already suspected it when the big fennec kept attacking, even after the first one was dead.

No compassion, no pity, no remorse, no sharing. That was the law of the Western Lands. The creatures fought over corpses—and even among themselves, there was no mercy. When one died, the others fed on it. And if you didn't eat, no one brought you food.

These damned corpse-eaters were just that—nothing more than disgusting, soulless scavengers. Strangely, under their repulsive gazes, Aris could now see the threads that made up their bodies. Thin and light—almost fragile. But there were so many of them that their forms looked perfectly smooth. And when you looked at a monster the right way, you didn't see anything but the monstrosity it was. That's how Aris saw the threads.

But it didn't matter. He already knew they were monsters—just by the simple fact that they looked so wrong, so hideous. Real fennecs were cute. These things were horrific.

Now he had to deal with five of them while the others claimed his kill.

Aris watched, hopeless, as the small group crept slowly toward him. Then, calmly, he bent down and picked up the dead fennec. The living ones watched, growling louder, ready to pounce.

And then—they froze in shock.

Aris sank his teeth deep into the dead beast. So deep that blood sprayed across their paws. The fennecs stepped back, confused by the terrifying human who had already killed two of their own.

Aris spat out the bones that came with the chunk of meat he tore off, then began chewing, exaggerated and wide-mouthed. But his eyes never left the small group, who were now backing away, fear in their eyes.

Soon, Aris opened his mouth—now empty—and stuck his tongue out at them.

"It's mine now."

The fennecs backed off slowly, and a few turned and ran. They all understood the same thing: in such small numbers, they had no chance of killing the fallen king.

Strangely, it was one of the few moments of intelligence they'd ever shown.

Aris watched them flee, heading after the group that had taken the first corpse. And the moment they were out of sight, he spat and vomited everything he could.

It was awful.

Raw fennec flesh was, to say the least, revolting. His body had screamed at him to spit it out even while he chewed it down, but Aris had forced himself to hold it together—just long enough to scare the group away. Now, every piece of it lay on the ground, soaked in blood and saliva. There was no way he could eat that for real.

Aris slowly turned his head toward the dead fennec he still held—and, overwhelmed with disgust, vomited again. He had come here to find something to eat, and now he was emptying his stomach.

What a brilliant idea.

Almost in tears, Aris dropped to his knees in front of the mess, trying to hold back the next wave.

"Shit… this is disgusting. It's really disgusting."

The fallen king was used to refined meals. The dishes served in his palace were as glorious as his reign. And now? A dead, raw beast by his side—filthy, repugnant.

Aris looked down at the beast's lifeless body and muttered to himself:

"I need to cook it. I need to make a fire."

As if the sky itself answered him, rain began to fall—loud, relentless rain that soaked everything, moving or not.

In a way, it was good news. Fennecs rarely came out in the rain. But on the other hand, with that much water pouring from the sky, there was no way to start a fire.

Aris lifted his head and stared helplessly at the sky. The raindrops struck his face with force, drenching him in seconds.

"I'm so tired of this, Ana. I'm so tired…"

The sky replied once more, and the rain grew even heavier, only making his frustration worse.

"Goddammit."

He threw the sign down and stuck the stake back into the ground. Even though he was still furious, he wanted people to know: stepping foot in this land meant their nightmare was just beginning. So he put the sign back in its place.

Then, picking up his torn, mangled prey, he set out to find shelter.

He found one not too far away—a large rock jutting from the ground, offering some protection from the rain. At least partially. Whenever the wind decided it didn't like Aris's comfort, it shifted, and the rain came slapping across his face again.

Aris cursed.

He was exhausted—more mentally than physically. His stomach had been through so much, it had stopped calling out for food. But he knew that hunger would return soon enough.

He stared hopelessly at the soaked, monstrous fennec that now looked more like a rug than an animal. It had lost most of its internal organs—if that's even what they were—somewhere along the path. Aris hadn't bothered to gather them, not wanting to waste time before finding shelter.

The rain was now coming down in full force, and Aris waited for it to stop.

It didn't.

He couldn't even tell if it was day or night—so dark were the clouds, letting no sunlight through. It had to be night.

Another day passed. And Aris was still there, like a beaten dog, in the forsaken lands of the West.