C7

AZEL WHITMORE POV

"If the Nightcrest lineage believes a simple transport pod landing constitutes a dramatic entrance, you are severely mistaken, Ronan."

The digital feed on the MoonNet Circle is completely exploding with data streams the second Ronan Nightcrest steps onto the staging ground. I scan the interface, watching the public comments roll in at a rapid pace.

'I cannot believe the production warlords actually secured Zeus for this cycle! This arena team has incredible political reach.'

'No wonder his transponder was kept confidential until the final landing sequence. He is absolutely the ultimate apex predator of this entire broadcast.'

'Of course he is the main event! Both Ezekiel and Zeus possess millions of devoted pack-followers across the northern sectors.'

'Huge praise to the arena council for bringing our dear Zachy into the combat zone! He usually completely avoids self-promotion and territory displays.'

'Ahem! Considering Zachy's highly selective, high-maintenance temperament, I seriously doubt his inner wolf can adapt to a raw mountain village territory.'

'That survival scenario seems totally impossible for him. What should I do? I suddenly want to see our digital gaming king stumble in the mud.'

'Haha! Same here.'

'It looks like a huge challenge to make Zeus fend for himself without his grandfather's massive pack resources.'

'I wonder if there will be combined hunting trials later. If they force them to form packs, I genuinely feel sorry for Zachy's teammates.'

'If that happens, I would sympathize with his sector partners too.'

The followers of the other sector scouts look totally confused by the Nightcrest feed. They clearly think Ronan's digital community is completely eccentric.

Every single scout steps forward to offer a formal submission gesture as Ronan approaches the central ring. Even though Darius despises Ronan's presence, he knows better than to display open territorial hostility while the live broadcast drones are tracking his every move.

"Welcome to the staging area, Nightcrest," Darius mutters, keeping his fangs fully retracted.

With all eight combatants present, the arena director, Jonah Chapman, steps into the center of the broadcast circle.

"Scouts, welcome to the live survival trial, Starting from Scratch," Jonah announces, his voice echoing through our communication devices. "Let me outline the direct parameters of this deployment. You will occupy this mountain sector for three consecutive weeks, and your daily survival movements will be broadcast directly to the entire continent. We provide standard hunting tools, basic iron cookware, and a bare wooden shelter. Every other necessity is your independent responsibility."

Darius, who has never participated in a raw wilderness trial without the luxury assets of the Lunar Veil Dominion, steps forward with a deep frown. "How are we supposed to secure sustenance without our established supply lines? Can we utilize our personal credits to buy provisions from the local outposts?"

Jonah looks at him with an expression that says, How can an elite alpha be so naive?

"You cannot use your own pack credits, of course," Jonah replies with a shrug. "Your personal communication devices are also being confiscated right now, though we will provide each of you with a standardized arena phone. As for how you intend to keep your inner wolves fed over the next few weeks, I have no idea. That is entirely up to your own hunting instincts."

Solomon Veyne, looking curious, raises his hand. "What specific tools will your team provide? During my previous survival deployment in the southern marshes, we were only permitted to carry three raw items into the zone."

"We will supply any basic physical tool you require for manual labor," Jonah explains. "This broadcast is not about tricking you; it is about showing how a high-ranking wolf survives when stripped of all corporate resources. For example, if you need to harvest river trout, we provide nets. If you need to chop winter firewood, we provide axes. Starting from Scratch is purely about returning to the simple ways of the wild."

Darius looks completely speechless. "How do we live without resources? What can we use to secure meat and clean water?" He pauses, thinking hard before adding, "Will you issue specific pack tasks that we can complete to earn food rewards?"

"No," Jonah answers with a calm smile. "We will not assign a single mandatory task during these three weeks, nor will we interfere with your territorial decisions. You can live exactly how you choose. If you want food, you can trade your manual labor with the mountain villagers, or find raw materials to exchange for sustenance."

The scouts instantly understand the true nature of the trap. The production team wants raw, unscripted drama. If the viewer metrics drop, they will force tasks later, but for now, we have complete freedom.

Jonah signals his assistant, who carries over eight heavy, password-locked steel boxes, each marked with a scout's name.

"Hand over your personal devices now," Jonah instructs. "Place them in your designated boxes. The factory code is six zeros, but you must set your own private lock. Once the trial concludes, you can reclaim your tech."

This is a standard protocol to protect the scouts' private data from the crew.

Ronan unlocks his replacement device, his handsome face twisting into a scowl. "This garbage phone cannot do anything except make basic calls, send text alerts, and track basic coordinates! We are going to die of absolute boredom out here!"

"We want you to experience a life free from digital entertainment," Jonah laughs. "It is all about returning to the raw simplicity of nature, isn't it?"

Ronan stays completely silent, looking like he deeply regrets listening to his talent agent's advice about entering this variety show.

"Any other issues?" Jonah asks, looking around. "If not, we will march toward the mountain settlement."

The scouts shake their heads. We begin following Jonah up a narrow, broken dirt path that cuts straight into the steep peaks.

"The path is narrow and treacherous," Jonah warns. "Watch your footing."

The moment my paws hit the loose dirt, I notice Nyra’s expression change completely. He looks completely ridiculous. Titus had advised him to dress like a delicate, mystical prince to capture the sympathy of the viewers on the MoonNet Circle, so he is wearing a long, flowing white ceremonial tunic and delicate silk footwear. He clearly didn't expect a rugged mountain trek.

Naturally, he doesn't complain out loud. Instead, he follows the line, lifting his long hem as he stumbles over the rocks. As we hit a steep incline, he lets out a soft gasp, pretending to lose his balance, and pitches directly toward Darius.

Darius instantly catches his arm, his scent spiking with intense concern. "Nyra, are you alright?"