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“THIS the place?”
Biotechnology’s Tier 1 Hazardous Organism Sector was located far from the pavilion where Euphemia and her team worked. This large cylindrical building isolated from the rest of the research grounds was one of the sectors that contained large and carnivorous Muta.
Three Bijours had escaped containment. A malfunction caused the automated crane not to close its shutter after depositing food in the containment area. The Bijours escaped through that partial gap in the security system.
The surveillance room immediately detected the malfunction and sounded the alarm. Employees evacuated the building, every block was sealed, and the sensors and drones were turned on to locate the loose Mutas. But despite narrowing the search field, they had no success capturing the dangerous creatures.
While the drones were equipped to take down Mutas, they were typically chomped on or swiped out of the air the second they moved. Making drones almost useless within the confines of a building against the quick Bijours.
Bijours were also said to have exceptionally high-intelligence and were wary of humans. They never stayed in one place for long. That was one of the reasons they were touted as a rare species.
“This should be enough space…”
Zelaide was currently in the cylindrical building’s lobby. He sensed nothing from the blindingly bright white space.
They’re here. They’re hiding in the walls. His Hunter instincts blared in warning.
“I’ve entered the lobby. Turn off the lights,” he instructed the control room through the small microphone attached under his coat.
“Done.”
The lights clicked off. Nocturnal Bijours didn’t enter bright spaces. They preferred to move in tight, cold places. They originated from a broad expanse of dense woodland known as the Sea of Trees.
Zelaide thrust one arm into the bag he carried on his shoulder. A freshly killed goat was inside.
“Come an’ get it. Sorry it ain’t alive like ya like ’em, but it’s plenty hot. It’s dinner time, boys.”
Around a day had passed since they had escaped.
Bijours were ravenous eaters. They couldn’t resist the sweet scent of a fresh kill. Zelaide sunk his claws into the goat’s neck and ripped it open. Blood gushed out. He brought his face to the opening, sank his teeth into the fleshy neck, and tore off a chunk as he shook his neck to the side like a dog.
“Heh heh heh… Look, I’m a beast just like you. Come an’ join me for a meal.” Zelaide let out a ghostly laugh after swallowing the warm chunk of meat.
I don’t cling to life. If I wanted to live peacefully, I woulda never become a Hunter.
As it was, many Beast Bloods born from human parents jumped through various hoops to finally receive permission to live among humanity despite the discrimination.
But among their species were those who gave up on society or fled into the outside world because they couldn’t integrate into society. Though they were isolated from humanity, they created their own culture and unique society with fellow Beast Bloods, which often led to them finding mates and leaving behind offspring.
Zelaide’s parents fell into the latter category.
I don’t mind dyin’. I’m good as long as my enemy deals a quick and lethal blow. I live every day prepared to take as many enemies down with me and slit my own throat before they can miserably torture me to death. I’ve never thought my life had value.
But I can’t die now. I don’t want to die, Zelaide thought. Because I have Yumi. I’m responsible for destroyin’ her enemies and returnin’ her to her sister once I know she can live in peace.
“Responsible? Me?”
Zelaide found his usage of a word unfit for Beast Bloods funny.
It works. I don’t know a better word. I’ll leave it at responsible. I’ll free Euphemia. Then I’ll leave this city. That was Zelaide’s plan. Once he returned her where she originally belonged, men would immediately flock to her.
She doesn’t look it, but she’s a strong-willed, hardworking, good woman. There are thousands of better men for her than me out there. I know a man who measures up to Saionji’s standards will make her his. Isn’t that how it was always gonna be?
Zelaide squeezed the goat carcass’s neck. Blood splattered everywhere, painting an ominous pattern on the wall.
Aaah, she’s gonna belong to another man? Some man I don’t know is gonna lie with her and dirty her.
NO!
“Never! I won’t let ’em!”
Dark flames ignited in Zelaide’s body and heart. It quickly became a lump of scorching heat that ate away at him.
No, no, no, no, no, no. I won’t allow it.
A strange odor began to permeate the sanitary space. Part of the odor came from the lukewarm blood dripping from the carcass. The other was completely different—a sickeningly sweet fragrance that had nothing to do with flowers or fruit.
It was the sweet odor Bijours exuded.
“…You came, beasts.” Zelaide’s pupils contracted, awakening his instincts as a Beast Blood. “Aaaaaah!” He bent backward and roared to the ceiling. “I’ll kill ya!”
She’s my mate. My woman. My—
“Life!”
His wide-open eyes glowed.
Slender shadows jumped over his head.
Zelaide leapt backward and chucked the goat at the wall in front of him. It splattered against the white wall and slid down, leaving a trail of blood behind.
SPLAT!
A single pink shadow soundlessly landed in the middle of the lobby—the Bijour.
✦ ✦ ✦
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THE pungent smell of blood and sweet death hung heavily in the impregnable darkness. Fortunately for Zelaide, Beast Bloods possessed excellent night vision.
Large reptilian Muta covered in striking pink scales soundlessly landed in the middle of the spacious lobby. Bijours always paused for a second after making any large movements, almost as if they were an actress posing before an audience.
The Bijour curiously tilted its slender neck toward Zelaide. He saw his own reflection in the Muta’s large, crimson eyes before it dropped its gaze to the bloodied goat.
Bijours were said to be one of the most intelligent Muta on the planet. It made its decision in a split second. Seemingly deciding it could eat the dead goat at any time, the Bijour faced Zelaide and opened its large mouth as if to claim dominance.
This species didn’t have any vocal cords to howl or growl with. However, they knew that showing off their razor-sharp fangs intimidated most prey. In a smooth motion, it crouched and sprung at Zelaide. Its muscular hind legs extended, launching it toward its prey at tremendous speed.
Zelaide jumped a good several feet backward to maintain a wider field of view.
Three Bijours had escaped containment. This was one of the three. These Muta excelled at hunting large game in packs. While one distracted the prey, another would take it down from behind. Against one, Zelaide had a sufficient chance of winning, but against three? The odds were not in his favor.
“Tch! Damn overgrown pink perfume lizards…”
I have to take out at least one first. Before the other two show up.
Zelaide dodged the Bijour’s lunge attack and raised his favorite gun. The barrel was short, but he wouldn’t miss at this distance—if he was fighting anything other than a Bijour.
The agile and gorgeous Muta was made of pure muscle and moved faster than a bullet in short bursts. And since they didn’t feel pain, there was no way to seal their movement unless he broke its legs or dealt a lethal blow.
The Bijour in front of Zelaide paused as if confused by this prey that easily dodged its attacks, but after a quick twitch of its jaws as if assessing the situation, it launched into the air again. It seemed confident since Zelaide had his back up against the wall. Its graceful long tail sliced through the air.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Zelaide rolled on the floor and fired three times at the smooth belly of the beast passing overhead. One shot missed and pierced the glass ceiling. The second shot hit its side and the third pierced its femur. But the Bijour landed effortlessly and twisted its long neck back to look at Zelaide. The third shot seemed to have severed a nerve in its femur as it struggled to turn its whole body around.
“No time for a stare off, pink lizard.”
Zelaide bent his knees in an offensive stance. The bullet only dented the tough ceiling glass without shattering it, but the vibrations were enough to lure the second Bijour into the upper lobby floor.
The injured one comes first.
Zelaide drew a large survival blade from his thigh holster and ran along the wall before the injured beast could initiate its next attack. He lunged at the Bijour’s head that had twisted around to look at him with emotionless eyes. This was Zelaide’s first preemptive strike during the fight.