The mother wolf’s expression was heavy with grief, her head lowered. The white wolf rubbed his neck and shoulder against hers in comfort. Wolves always protected their own; even if this battle meant their pack would be pushed to the brink, the white wolf would still lead them to take revenge.

A sharp, carrying howl rang out. All the wolves surrounding the battlefield lifted their heads toward the white wolf. He stepped forward, looking over the battered survivors, then picked up a fallen wolf by its neck and motioned for the pack to withdraw.

The other wolves followed suit—each picked up a fallen companion and trailed behind the leader. Soon, on the blood-soaked ground, only a dozen or so drained hyena-drake corpses remained. Not a single trace of the wolves was left.

High above, vultures that had been circling for some time dove down once the wolves were gone. They tore at the hyena-drakes’ flesh, swallowing mouthful after mouthful as they cleaned the killing grounds.

Scenes like this had been playing out across the plains for some time. While the lion and wolf groups constantly changed, the side they fought against was always the hyena-drakes.

The male cheetah, together with his two newly formed companions, finished drinking from a shallow water hole. When he lifted his head, he saw yet another clash—this time between a pack of wild hyenas and a small squad of hyena-drakes. His companions looked toward him. The male cheetah twitched his ears, then led them in a wide arc to a patch of tall grass upwind, where they settled to silently observe.

Cheetahs cherished their lives—an injury was almost as good as death. Even though the male cheetah hated hyena-drakes, unless he was certain of victory, he would only lie in wait.

In the dense canopy of a nearby acacia tree, a spotted leopard swished its tail lazily while watching the fierce battle below. On another branch, another leopard hid in the shadows, occasionally dropping down to harass the hyena-drakes whenever the wild hyenas gained the upper hand—only to dart back into the tree before the hyena-drakes could react. Enraged, the hyena-drakes rammed the acacia tree several times, but the sly leopards were unreachable. They tried to escape the tree’s range, only to be driven back again by the wild hyenas.

A leopard helping wild hyenas hunt—such a thing would have been utterly impossible in the past. Yet here it was, happening bizarrely in this quiet corner. Coupled with the three grown cheetahs lying in wait within the tall grass, all watching the hyena-drakes… it was as if, for a moment, every predator on the plains had chosen the hyena-drakes as their common enemy.

In a remote stretch of the Dosa River, a massive hyena-drake horde sprawled out across the land, so dense it seemed endless.

A pitch-black pterosaur beat its wings as it descended beside the hyena-drake leader. It first plunged half its body into the icy river water to cool down before staggering forward on legs it rarely used. Standing before the hyena-drake leader, it spoke in a shrill voice that didn’t match its size at all, “Several scouting teams we sent out recently seem to have been wiped out by those lowly predators on the plains.”