dinohigh, no humans allowed!

Sangria moved through the crowd at the exclusive party, swaying with the rhythm of the music. He hated to admit it, but the unconscious motion of the herd was infectious. It pulsed in the air like a heartbeat, electric and alive, and here he was, hiding in their skin.

The crowd moved together—laughing, drinking, dancing in carefree abandon—and Sangria, blending as he always did, found himself drifting along with them. He was good at this, too good. Fitting in. Acting like them. It was the one thing that came naturally to him, yet tonight, it made his skin crawl.

Something else was off. He could feel the meteor fragment nestled against his chest, thrumming with an unfamiliar energy. It swayed and pulsed with the crowd, as though it were resonating with them—other Saurastar candidates—like it was becoming one with them. But that was impossible. He wasn't a dinosaur. How could it relate to them and not his mission?

To destroy these spoiled kids.

Sangria's sharp eyes scanned the room as he prowled the perimeter, his presence unnoticed in the mass of wealth and opulence. He sighed quietly to himself, shoulders heavy. Or maybe… this is what my heart reflects, he thought bitterly. Maybe this is what I want. To fit in. To drop the mask and just be honest.

His steps slowed as he reached the punch bowl, and he caught his reflection in the crimson liquid. It was a grotesque irony. The bowl was full of red wine and freshly crushed grapes, mixed with floating slices of fruit and heady spices. The surface shimmered under the chandelier lights, a rich and vibrant red—like blood.

Staring back at him wasn't a human. It was a dinosaur.

His throat tightened. How he wished he could be like them—born fortunate, born winners. Life was so much easier when you didn't have to fight for everything. He looked away, swallowing the lump of envy in his throat. Moments like these were the hardest, when the weight of it all made him want to give up. To stop fighting.

But he couldn't. He wouldn't. He had a purpose. A duty.

His jaw tensed as the conflicting emotions roiled in his chest. He hated his heart for being so weak, for caring—for actually feeling something for these creatures. And yet, his disguise fit him far too well. He spoke with these people effortlessly, with charm and ease. They liked him because they were fake like him. And he liked them because… he was fake like them.

Maybe I just need to relax.

Sangria slipped to the corner of the room, half-shadowed, where he could simply observe. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his foot tapping faintly to the beat. The music was hypnotic, a smooth pulse of bass and shimmering synths that laced through the air like smoke.

Dinos laughed and danced in the center of the floor, pairs twirling together in sync with the rhythm. Conversations bubbled around him in snippets:

"Did you see what she was wearing?"

"I heard he owns three penthouses downtown."

"They imported the wine? Straight from the vineyard. Of course."

Sangria couldn't help but wag his tail slightly to the beat. He hadn't noticed it at first, but the swaying motion was natural—instinctive. His mind jolted as realization struck. My tail.

He froze, glaring at the appendage through his disguise. It was moving on its own. He forced himself to stop, mentally willing the side effect of the amulet to fade.

Focus, he scolded himself.

That damned artifact was more than a disguise—it did something to him. It animated his dinosaur persona too well. The longer he wore it, the more he felt like a dinosaur. The senses, the instincts, the thought patterns—he understood it all now. How they thought. How they viewed others as lesser beings to be devoured, broken, or stolen from. And in their own twisted minds, they were innocent.

There was no reasoning with them. He had tried before. His words had no power here—words didn't have power at all. Not in this world. Only force mattered. Only action. So he let them talk, he let them gloat and scheme, because someone had to stop them.

"Tsst… tsst," he muttered to himself. How foolish must you be to believe words could change anything?

A shadow flickered across his face as he smirked faintly. He swore, for a moment, his mask blinked when he did. He reached up to touch it, feeling the smooth surface. Maybe when I smile, my mask smiles too. Maybe it looks more genuine to them than my real face ever could.

The thought lingered in his mind like a dark echo. He stood there between the light and the dark, the shadows warping as if they were his alone to cast.

I'm the only human here, he thought, the loneliness gnawing at him. No man survives the heart of the beast without a disguise.

The thought was interrupted when someone brushed past him, slipping through a curtain at the edge of the room. Sangria's sharp eyes followed instinctively, narrowing. He hesitated a moment, then pushed the curtain aside and stepped into the adjoining room.

His breath caught.

There, sitting comfortably on a plush velvet couch, was another human.

Sangria blinked, disbelief freezing him in place. The man lounged casually, surrounded by a small group of young hadrosaurs—a mix of species, all beautiful and dressed in expensive silks. They were fawning over him, laughing and smiling as though he were the most interesting person in the room.

And the human? He didn't even seem to care. He looked vaguely annoyed, his body language lazy and disinterested, responding to their chatter with halfhearted quips and occasional nods. He wasn't trying at all—not like Sangria. He was putting in the bare minimum effort, and somehow, it was working.

Sangria couldn't believe his eyes. Another human… here? Among them?

The hadrosaurs tittered with laughter, leaning closer to the man as he mumbled something under his breath. One of them—a vibrant, blue-scaled Parasaurolophus—giggled and playfully swatted his shoulder. "Oh, stop! You're so funny!"

The human rolled his eyes subtly, barely masking his irritation. "Right. Hilarious."

Sangria took another step closer, staying hidden behind a decorative potted fern. His mind whirred, heart pounding.

Who is he?

And more importantly… what the hell is he doing here?