Roots Of Ruin (Monster Hunter Fanfiction)

The aftermath of the battle left the jungle in a tense stillness, as though the trees themselves held their breath. No triumphant cries, no victorious howls—only the hush of a world recoiling from what had just occurred. The infected had won, but their conquest was not marked by celebration. Instead, they stood, shifting in place, their bodies subtly changing, the parasite consolidating its hold.

The jungle, too, bore witness to their victory. The ground where the battle had raged was now marked with strange growths—pale tendrils weaving through the underbrush, coiling around roots and stretching toward the trees. The scent of blood was thick in the air, but beneath it, a new scent lurked: the damp, foreign musk of something taking root.

Among the remains of the fallen, the parasite worked. The lesser infected creatures—those too small or weak to serve as independent hosts—began to change. Their bodies softened, their structures losing cohesion. Their flesh pulsed as if still alive, but they did not move on their own. Instead, they fused, merging into a mass that clung to the earth like a tumor. It grew slowly but steadily, an unnatural formation of chitin and plant matter, a monument to the parasite's victory.

Beyond the battlefield, the infected that had survived the night began to reorganize. They no longer resembled a simple hunting pack but something greater, something with direction. Their movements were synchronized, their gazes sharper, more aware. The parasite was learning. The failures of the night's ambush were noted, adjusted for. Next time, it would not leave openings.

A disturbance rippled through the jungle, sending the smaller infected creatures scuttling into the shadows. Something new had arrived.

A heavy footstep. Then another.

A hulking form moved through the underbrush, its nostrils flaring as it caught the lingering scent of death. Anjanath. Its body was unscarred, untouched by the previous battle—it had been drawn by the aftermath, by the promise of easy meat. It was cautious, its eyes sweeping the battlefield, its stance low and wary.

The parasite did not react immediately. It watched. Calculated.

The Anjanath stepped closer, its massive head lowering toward a carcass, but then it froze. Its nostrils flared again, this time in confusion. The scent of rot and blood it expected was there, but beneath it was something foreign, something wrong. A rumble built in its throat, low and uncertain.

Then, from the twisted underbrush, something moved.

Not an attack. Not yet. The parasite tested the air, shifting within its hosts. The jungle, once its adversary, was slowly becoming its domain. Tendrils extended further into the undergrowth, reaching, expanding. This was not just a victory; it was an infestation in motion.

The Anjanath took a step back, uneasy. It did not yet understand what had happened here, but instinct told it that this was no longer its territory. It loosed a warning growl, then turned, vanishing into the trees. It had no place in this changing world.

And as the jungle swallowed it once more, the parasite remained, waiting. Growing. Preparing for what would come next.