Rain poured down in torrents.
On the shallows of White Forest's cove, puddles were filling up, and stranded little fish finally found water, swimming frantically into the newly formed channels.
In the deep water, the row of obsidian-like bony protrusions lay motionless. Only a thin white wisp of sulfurous steam still breathed faintly between the bones.
Deep beneath the water, another breath was drawing near.
Thunder rolled across the sky, concealing his approach.
The oldest thing in this rainforest was about to meet the youngest god of death it had ever seen.
Bead-sized raindrops fell from the leaden sky.
The surface of the Mara River erupted in a dense scattering of splashes.
It was a downpour rarely seen in the dry season.
Ross watched the rain, closed his transparent outer eyelids, and sank into the water.
Beneath the surface, the world fell into darkness.
Ross paddled with his four limbs, his massive body gliding silently through the current.
This stretch of river stirred a captivating appetite.
Only half a dry season ago, this fertile network of waterways had still lain under the shadow of another behemoth.
Eileen, the old woman who had occupied this place for a full ten years, a formidable thirty-year-old Typhon, had ultimately been unable to withstand the golden storm that descended from the sky.
Ross had witnessed it firsthand from nearby. The Ras in the sky had swooped down like locusts, tearing Eileen's seventeen-meter-long serpent body to shreds. Broken scales had littered the ground, some of her organs had hung from the trees, and blood had stained the beach and cove red.
Ross remembered that it had been the Sunbirds' hunting rite.
The expedition had been led by an adult Ra, and most of the others had been very young, curious little birds.
Ross knew the leader of this particular hunting rite, though. It was Ural, one of the Sun Council's members, a figure of considerable power and standing among the Ras. Such a heavyweight had actually deigned to lead children.
No wonder they had come to the Samei Rainforest to hunt Typhons.
Ross had Ural to thank.
He had killed Eileen.
That stinking old woman was dead, and these waters had become an ownerless meat broth.
Ross cruised through the water, the bone plates deep in his rear ribs aching faintly.
Several bite marks and the lingering pain of being constricted were souvenirs of his struggle with another Typhon a few days ago.
Ross had not expected another troublemaker to be hiding in these muddy waters. By his reckoning, it was probably a female Typhon nearing adulthood. Though smaller than Eileen, her bite and constriction were exceptionally fierce.
But how could a Typhon have such a powerful bite? It had left Ross hurting for days.
That ferocious little thing was clearly eyeing Eileen's inheritance like a tiger stalking its prey.
Ross had spotted her first and lain in ambush, teaching the Typhon from afar a lesson.
There was no need to worry about her coming back for another round. The Dead Sun's Furnace Core energy had erupted, and that fellow had suffered far worse than he had. Severe burns could rob a Typhon of the ability to move and hunt for quite a while; she would need at least several months of rest before she could move again. If the heat stream had struck a vital organ, it could even have killed her.
Apart from that little female serpent, several immature young male Typhons also lurked in this tangled network of wetland waterways.
They were like a group of ghosts wandering among the roots of the reeds, whispering together in the darkness as they learned mud language and ritual sacrifice.
Ross could not be bothered with them.
Male Typhons could hardly threaten him. The Dead Sun would drive the shadows away.
Besides, attacking the males might draw that one out.
The true empress of this vast water system, a Typhon Muerjia, an old monster named "Tessa."
At the ripe old age of fifty, who knew how many rises and falls she had witnessed in the rainforest?
And that one was at least fifty years old. Tessa had already been around fifty years ago; only ghosts knew how long she had actually lived.
Whether Dead Sun Armor or Typhon, the longer they lived, the stronger they became. Their period of decline lasted only for a time before the end of their lives; every other period was called their prime.
Eileen's death was merely a scale shed from the kingdom of the Mara River waters. Tessa was the nightmare barring the source of this great river.
No creature dared face the might of a Muerjia.
Neither did Ross.
As an adult male Dead Sun Armor ten meters long and seasoned in his ways, Ross could hold his own against an adult female Typhon in a head-on brawl. With his cunning tactics, Ross was usually the victor.
But he dared not provoke a Muerjia. Declaring war on a Muerjia was a task better left to the kings of the Dead Sun Armor.
Famu had been right in his assessment of large predators: when two apex predators met, the best outcome was for both to back down.
But Ross had picked a fight with Famu, mainly to drive him out of these central waters.
For Ross's purposes, a predator of the same tier was an enormous threat that had to be driven away.
He had not risked being torn apart by a Muerjia to come here just to play house or for a few scraps of meat.
Ross had a deeper craving.
Rumor had it that Earth Vein Ore lay buried beneath these waters.
It was a sacred thing deposited deep in the cracks of the earth, a high-purity crystal that had drunk its fill of primordial radiation, the physical embodiment of Earth Vein Energy.
To a Dead Sun Armor, flesh was merely inferior food for sustaining basic metabolism. Only those glowing Earth Vein Ores were treasures capable of making the Dead Sun boil and allowing the Furnace Core to break through its barrier.
Now, the current grew increasingly turbulent.
The rain struck the river's surface, becoming waves of muffled thunder underwater.
Beneath the downpour, the entire underwater world seemed to rumble, and stirred-up silt filled the water.
The already dim underwater view became a thick, inky blackness.
Ross pressed his limbs against his body. The obsidian bone protrusions along his back gave off faint wisps of steam as he adjusted his buoyancy and slowly sank toward the dark muddy riverbed.
This was the direction Ross was searching today.
"Whoosh—"
The current churned. This rain had been building for a long time, and it was coming down so hard that even the riverbed was unsettled.
Ross only wanted to return to his nest. Unlike Typhons, Dead Sun Armor had no desire to soak in water in weather like this.
But as he swam through a stretch of deep water, the silt on the riverbed stirred.
"Boom—!"
The water exploded upward!
The current throughout the deep water churned.
Beneath the dark green water, a massive black shadow rose!
Iron scales locked together over a winding serpent body, and the damned thing had a hideous, terrifying face.
Ross swung his massive clawed limbs against the water, intending to change direction, but the thing's upward charge from the riverbed was far too fast. By the time the first strange current washed over Ross's scales, it had already seized him by the throat!
What terrifying strength! Ross felt his whole body go numb.
The damned thing had him by the throat and dragged him along with that force, ramming half his body out of the water.
On the riverbank, Headscar hid in the jungle and watched the battlefield. Headscar saw the giant crocodile surface in agony and throw his head back, roaring into the downpour, before a force dragged him back into the deep. A whirlpool formed on the surface, and the winding shadow of a serpent was faintly visible at its center.