The smell of sizzling meat drifted lazily through the stone hut, its walls etched with crude etchings that Troy had begun recognizing as early proto-symbols. The "kitchen," if he could even call it that, was a modest corner space in a hut near the village's heart. A stone slab—once part of an old altar—sat atop a carefully arranged nest of thick twigs and smoothed stones. The twigs fed the fire while the slab captured both the flames and the intense sunlight pouring through the open-roof slit above. It was primitive, sure—but it worked like a charm.
Fat from the cooked meat popped and hissed, some of it spitting onto his bare legs, but Troy had long gotten used to that. After surviving a tyrannosaur mating ritual, a few hot grease burns were nothing.
He wiped sweat from his brow and turned the sizzling hunk of game meat—a plump beast not unlike a boar—with a smooth wooden spatula he'd carved himself. The sizzle was satisfying, and the smell even more so.
"You're cooking again."
Troy looked up to find Ravaxara entering the hut. Her scales gleamed like molten gold under the slits of sunlight. She walked with a languid grace, her crimson-gold tail swaying with controlled strength.
In her arms? A wooden bowl—crafted by Velvii—brimming with fresh rice.
"More from the farm?" he asked with a grin, motioning toward the food.
Ravaxara gave a short nod. "It grows fast. Your idea of putting water near them helped. No one knew the hard juicy rocks inside the food could make more food." She tilted her head, eyes gleaming with admiration. "You truly are strange, Twig-Man."
Troy winced at the nickname. "Still with that, huh?"
She grinned toothily but said nothing, setting the bowl down beside the meat before walking to his side. Her snout dipped toward the sizzling food, sniffing with open delight. "You make fire and meat talk. The smell is victory."
Troy laughed. "I'll take that as a compliment."
Outside the hut, Velvii could be heard shouting commands. Her signature sandals thumped against the packed earth—click, click, thud—as she directed several tribe members across the now-thriving village. Farms were popping up everywhere, shaped in crooked but serviceable rows of soil. Velvii had created crude watering systems using hollowed-out bones and troughs made of hardened bark and clay.
She was even building what she proudly called the "Juice Temple," a hut dedicated to preserving and brewing the now-replicated Heart Berries.
Heart Berries—once rare enough to cause tribal wars—were now as abundant as stones. With proper farming and guidance from Troy, Mammara's sacred hut had been transformed into a booming facility. The tribe's fertility rates, already freakishly high, were now entering legendary status.
All of this… because of him.
Troy didn't know whether to be proud or terrified.
He carefully sliced a piece of meat, placed it atop a bed of cooked rice, and offered it to Ravaxara. She sat cross-legged, tail swishing, and took the offering like a queen given tribute.
"You honor me," she said as she ate. "Your cooking… makes the egg stronger."
Troy blinked. "You can tell?"
She tapped her claw on her stomach where the egg had formed. "A mother always knows."
He smiled and turned to prepare a second plate—this one for Velvii, who stormed into the hut like a scaled whirlwind. Her green-and-black scales shimmered from sweat, and her eye scar, the dark tar-black streak, pulsed faintly with tribal dye.
"WHY is your Rice Box growing faster than mine!?" she screamed. "I put more water, I sing to them, I even used mammoth dung like you said!"
Troy chuckled. "Did you put it where the sun hits it all day?"
Velvii froze. "No...?"
"There's your answer."
Velvii immediately turned on her clawed heel to leave but then paused. "Wait! Also—I made the new Stabby Sticks. One's shiny! Like moonlight!"
She tossed the new spear toward him. It landed beside his leg with a clank. The head wasn't flint or sharpened bone—it was silver-colored. Metal. Crude, but unmistakably forged. She'd actually found a way to smelt ore using volcanic rock and Troy's suggestion to try heating it with layered stones.
"You're a damn genius," Troy muttered.
"Damn genius is good, yes?" she grinned madly.
Then, without warning, she leaned in far too close, poking his shoulder, nose, and cheek in rapid succession. "Also, tell me again about that thing called a 'wheel?' Does it roll things or roll you? And also—how do I make the sandals less squeaky?"
Troy was blushing—actually blushing. "I—uh, I'll tell you later."
Velvii grinned, satisfied, and skipped out of the hut with her plate of food, leaving behind an air of chaos and curiosity.
Meanwhile Above Them All... Watching
From the upper edge of the valley, where clouds kissed the cliffs and winds whispered ancient lullabies, she appeared.
Gaia.
Earth Incarnate.
The oldest, the most rooted, the most patient of the Divine. She had only just returned from her sister Jarry's domain—Mars. And oh, that harpy had been loud, grating, and full of schemes. War, war, and more war.
Gaia sighed as she descended toward her favorite tribe, the one tucked safely near the Great Tree basin.
But what she found left her still.
"…They're thriving?"
Confused, Gaia drifted invisibly through the village. Crops. Harmony. Progress. All so… unnatural for a species known more for ripping each other's throats out in dominance trials.
She passed over a group of children laughing as they helped pour water onto a plant. A young male was sketching something using crushed charcoal and plant dye—some kind of blueprint?
Her gaze sharpened.
And then—him.
A human.
A naked human in a cooking hut, talking with the green-scaled invention-maniac, Velvii, offering her cooked meat and talking about sandals and something called leverage.
Gaia narrowed her eyes, still invisible, as she drifted closer. She could feel his aura—some strange energy like a whisper of starlight and a hint of otherworldly metal. Not divine, not demonic.
But not… natural.
"…What are you?" she whispered, perched unseen in the corner of the hut.
Troy scratched his head, explaining why wooden spokes made carts move smoother, even sketching it crudely on a piece of bark. Velvii, eyes sparkling like a child given her first fire, gasped with every idea.
"And here," Troy said, poking at the drawing, "we'll call it a—" He sneezed suddenly.
Gaia almost laughed.
Velvii blinked. "Was that a sneeze?"
"Probably someone talking about me," Troy muttered, wiping his nose.
Gaia backed away, still chuckling in her mind.
So, you're the reason this tribe thrives. A little human, stumbling into greatness. I wonder…
She looked toward the eastern horizon where Jarry's clans moved like an oncoming storm.
"...Which side will you take, little mate-maker?"
She vanished into the wind.
...
[System Update → Harem List]
Ravaxara
[Heiress to the Tyrannosaurus Tribe]
[Affinity: 100%]
[Title(s): First Mate - Forever Mate]
[Power(s): GOD-LVL Endurance, T. Rex Muscle Density]