The Phantom's Awakening
The jungle was never silent. Even in the dead of night, it hummed with the low whispers of insects, the rustling of unseen creatures, and the distant growls of ancient lizards. But something had changed. The air had thickened with unease, the trees stood eerily still, and even the mighty beasts that ruled these lands had learned a new fear.
A shadow moved between the trees, blending into the darkness like it was born from it. Two piercing, luminous eyes reflected the moonlight, scanning, searching. It did not hunt for food, nor for survival. It hunted for sport, for the thrill of the kill.
And soon, the jungle would bleed.