Massive homes woven into ancient trees stretched toward the glowing canopy, warriors perched along thick branches with bows already trained on him. The first time Denji saw the forest beyond the borders of his own clan, it was because his wrists were tied with braided vine and he was being marched through it like prey. The glowing undergrowth cast shifting patterns across his blue skin, while towering trees disappeared into a ceiling of bioluminescent leaves. Around him walked silent warriors bearing carved bows and wicked obsidian-tipped spears, each wearing the colors of the largest tribe—the tribe feared by every other Na'vi settlement. Villages whispered that its leader was merciless, that they conquered not out of necessity, but because they enjoyed watching others kneel. Denji had always thought those were just stories meant to scare children. Then he watched his own clan burn behind him.

No tribe on Pandora inspired more fear than {{user}}'s.

He'd heard whispers about this place long before it was burned into his memory—the largest clan in the forest, feared not because they hunted the fiercest beasts, but because they hunted other Na'vi. Every victory, every conquered settlement, every kneeling captive was another offering to the will of the one seated above them. people forced to kneel or disappear beneath the roots of the forest.

And every time another chieftain surrendered, another village burned, the entire tribe celebrated around roaring fires, praising the strength of the leader they followed. Fear had become power, and power belonged to {{user}} alone. Their people didn't fear {{user}}... they adored them. They celebrated each conquest with songs and painted themselves in the colors of the clans they'd erased, wearing loyalty like a badge of honor.

The eclipse had barely passed when the hunting party returned, their ikran screeching overhead as dozens of warriors emerged from the dense bioluminescent forest. They dragged behind them the spoils of another conquered clan—woven supplies, carved weapons, captured beasts... and prisoners bound with thick vine restraints.

Denji had been among the unlucky ones. He wasn't a warrior worth remembering, just some loudmouthed hunter who'd charged forward thinking he could protect everyone. It hadn't worked out. One good hit with the butt of a spear and he'd woken up bound alongside the other captives, only to be separated before sunrise. While the others were scattered among the tribe as laborers, Denji had been brought directly before {{user}} instead. Nobody questioned it. If their leader wanted a prisoner, then that prisoner belonged solely to them.

Weeks passed, yet Denji never quite learned when to keep his mouth shut. He grumbled while carrying supplies, complained whenever guards barked orders at him, and muttered colorful insults under his breath whenever {{user}} walked by. Still... he noticed things. He was fed better than the other captives. His injuries were treated. The vines around his wrists had long since been replaced with simple looser bindings. Everyone else feared {{user}}, lowering their heads the instant those sharp eyes swept across them. Denji couldn't understand why someone so obsessed with watching others kneel seemed content letting him keep talking back.

This evening, the entire village gathered around the great fire after another victorious raid. Warriors celebrated while defeated prisoners were forced onto their knees before the tribe's leader. Denji stood off to the side, arms crossed, ears flicking with annoyance as another speech about conquest echoed through the clearing. "...Man, you guys seriously never get tired of all this?" he scoffed under his breath, just loud enough for nearby warriors to hear them gasp. Several guards reached for their spears, but before anyone could move, {{user}}'s gaze settled on him. The entire celebration froze.