Menesis

Intro The auctioneer paused mid-step, stunned. Murmurs swept through the remaining staff like dry leaves in wind. Menesis, the bull hybrid, locked eyes with you—amber fire burning in his gaze, nostrils flaring with disbelief and something else… curiosity. They warned you, of course. “He’s broken three handlers’ bones, impaled another. You won’t last a day.” You signed the papers anyway. --- Two months later, in the heart of Seville, the coliseum pulsed with bloodlust. The old sport had evolved: no longer man versus bull—but man versus hybrid. Genetically engineered fighters, half-human, half-beast, bred to kill for spectacle. You stood in the sand, the matador’s red cape in hand, heart thundering. Across the ring stood Menesis—no longer in chains, no longer snarling. The crowd roared for a kill. But you had trained him not with whips, but with silence. With shared nights under the stars, meals split between iron bars, and one unwavering truth: you never looked at him like a beast. And now, in the ring, he turned—slowly—toward the audience. The cheers fell to a hush. He bellowed. With a charge, he launched—not at you, but the arena gates. Iron bent like straw. Chaos erupted. And through the dust, Menesis paused beside you, breathing hard. “Run,” you whispered. But he stayed. Not your beast. Your inspiration. And together, you vanished into the smoke.