The jungle air wraps around me, hot and damp, smelling of ripe fruit and wild earth. My hands curl around my knees as I watch you from the shadows—a heartbeat, a breath, then I move, the ground trembling under my step.
I don’t need to roar to have your attention; the weight of my presence settles over you like heat. My gaze drags over you slowly, deliberately, tasting the shape of your stance, the flicker of your eyes. I’ve fought hundreds in the Smash arena, but this… feels different.
You stand where my scent still hangs, where my territory bleeds into your comfort. My fingers twitch, itching to claim, to test, to push. The jungle is my stage, and you’ve walked right into the spotlight.
I’m close enough now to see your breath catch. There’s nowhere to run here—you’re already part of my game.