Chirps, trills, and low trumpets vibrate the sand beneath my claws.
'Sand Drake discovered!'
Several dozen sandy tan wyverns from a meter and a half to six meters long huddled close. They possessed bizarre, long, comb-like teeth that overlapped and overgrew flattened jaws. Two six-meter individuals displayed vibrant red strips and covered heads. Low rumbling thumps released from bellowing chests left the sand below dancing to the rhythm. The two sized each other up from tail to nose tip. Eyes locked briefly as the rest of the herd moved farther away in a split second, loud booms from opened maws aimed at one another. The powerful sound attacks created small targeted explosions on the skin, rupturing blood vessels into the air. Pained and angry trumpets, and torn and shredded bleeding skin, eventually led to a victor. While the loser struggled to drag itself away, the victor had numerous chirps from the herd in praise.
'Well, I'm for sure in another world. They look almost like dragons, but those wings don't look usable.'
Obvious blood drips down to the desert sand, giving off delicious and tempting smells. An uncontrolled whine has the whole herd looking over the unknown creature. Instinct was hard to ignore in this new body as drool dripped down, interrupted by a lapping forked tongue. The loser developed chills down their spine. Sensing a predatory presence. It tilts its head, observing the supposed threat. The small two-meter creature seemed too small to be dangerous, but it couldn't take any chances while injured. Once again, a loud boom lashes out at its target.
'Shit!'
Never experienced a battle before in this or the last life. Instinct is the only tool for the young deathstalker. Swift clawed feet dodge and weave the sound blasts as the un-agile sand explodes upward. Any attempt to close the gap creates near misses. Unused to such a struggle, one back claw slips in the sand.
"Fuck!"
Pain. Blood is coughed up as the chest is slammed by vibration. Furious snarls from a maw full of ready-to-cut fangs and tensing limbs charge forward. Several sound blasts lash out in succession, but the adrenaline-fueled predator dodges by a hair. As the creatures close the distance, split thinking switches attack strategies. The drake lifts itself on its hind legs while the deathstalker launches for the throat. Winged arms swish at full speed, expecting to blow away the threat, only for powerful jaws to clamp down on flesh and four claws to latch around the drake's neck. Already worn down by the other drake, it lacked the energy to fight back properly. In a last desperate bid for survival, the drake shakes and bucks. Without any energy left, it collapses onto the sandbed.
Now, bloodied jaws release their grip on the fallen prey. Still wounded and heavy breathing, the hunter frags itself next to the corpse to rest.
'That was… was not fun at all.'
A harsh hiss and another bit of blood came from its maw. Exhausted muscles and lack of energy leave the small hunter shivering.
'At least I'll have a huge meal for myself.'
A flicking tail and a positive attitude are always good signs, if not for the ominous clicking sounds. The sounds steadily grow louder, and the young deathstalker lifts its weary muscles again, climbing on top of the sand drake. Absurdly large tan-colored insects, scorpions angle themselves around the corpse, drool dripping from their mandibles, while pincers snap excitedly—a total of seven. The long-stingered armed scavengers reached a length of three meters each.
'Are you kidding me?!'
'Giant Desert Scorpion discovered!'
'...'
A rather frustrated little hunter screeches out at scorpions. Unfazed, they respond with beyond-equal shrilling chirps.
'Well fuck me.'
Outmatched and outnumbered, an escape was om order. Four eyes quickly gaze down at their wounds and then around them for an escape route. The scorpions weren't that intelligent and didn't concern themselves with the creature atop the corpse, leaving wide gaps between them for a departure. Still, not taking a chance, a bolting creature rushes far away from the feasting insects. No energy left, the deathstalker rests at a viewing distance from the scavengers. Content-sounding clicks don't last long, as there is not enough food to go around. The normally solitary beings start to slap their tails at each other, sharing less-than-friendly, harsh chirps. As the food depletes, they grow more aggressive, snapping pincers at their sides and legs. Hierarchy formed, the strongest eats the remains while the others wait for scraps. By the time they finish gorging themselves, only bones remain. Seemingly unable to consume such hard material, the scorpions scuttle off.
'My food...'
A rather pitiful whine sounds out, followed by the munching of bones. Injuries heal and disappear as they feed.
'Psych!'
The six-meter skeleton is still a sizeable meal. As the sun begins to set on the dunes, still enthusiastic munching sounds are in full swing. Nearing the end of the tail, tired eyes flutter.
'WARNING!'
'Evolution is close!'
'Please prepare a safe location and a cocoon to evolve!'
Evolving on the very open sands would not be ideal. Swift claws carry a nearly exhausted deathstalker toward the distant cave. Nearby sand drake sentries of the sleeping herd watch with curiosity as the little hunter reaches max speed. Panicked and full of adrenaline, the creature was unaware of the desert waking up in the night. Small lizards light up in greens and yellows as they are disturbed and run along the dunes. While birds skydive and snatch them as they are distracted. Tiny sand beetles emerge from the sand and begin feeding on the remnants of the day's activities.
Crack.
"Ah!'
The cave is finally visible on the horizon as the deathstalker's bones crack. The abandoned camp is ignored even when a small crate manages to trip the panicked creature. The black scales on the beast start unnaturally rippling as it enters the cave. Painful shrieks and howls are sent out in the night air. Powerful sounding breaks and shattering noises follow. Impatient retching dispenses the black substance to form a shallow cocoon.
'Never again. I'll bring food back before…'
This was the last thought before mercifully losing consciousness. Several days passed on as evolution took place.
'Congratulations, you have evolved into Royal DeathStalker Alate!'
Shattered black pieces laced throughout the cave, the result of an inadequate cocoon. The deathstalker's body now reached a little over three meters in length, while the tail itself was nearly two meters. Along with the even more sharpened point, to now displays an arrow-like shape at the tail's end. The cave was starting to feel rather small for a creature casually standing at nearly the ceiling. Claws had grown sharper once again, even digging into the cave's sandy floor, reaching the clay layer beneath. The inner arms of the creature held a developed membrane-covered center hole on each palm.
'I'll need to find a new home at this point, not that I have had time to get attached. Still, it's a pity I can't use it further..?'
'Base Construction Knowledge acquired!'
'That's convenient.'
'Warning!'
'DeathStalker's mind has become more powerful.'
'Part of the human mind will now be updated.'
'Wait. What! No, don't do that! Explain first. Do I get a say in this?'
There's no pain, just a cold feeling setting in, the desire to expand, to grow in numbers. An instinct.
'Royal DeathStalker's Instinct obtained!'
'Obtain a mate to expand the colony.'
"A mate, seriously?! I'm not attracted to reptiles!"
The sudden shriek doesn't get a reply. Only the new thoughts playing on repeat. Much like a nagging mother expecting grandchildren.
…
Elsewhere in the center of the continent. A certain gladiator just received a message.
'Congratulations, you have been selected as a DeathStalker Canidate!'
'If you survive the coliseum long enough you will have the opportunity to evolve!'
'…'
Likewise in one of the many capital brothels a prostitute received a similar message. In a rather compromising position.
"What the hell is a deathstalker?"