Humans. The word felt strange. It had been less than half a year since his hatching, yet the life of a monster already felt more natural.
For the next two weeks, Logan and Peini lingered in the periphery of Astera. Using his hawk-like vision, he observed the settlement from a distance, picking out figures that matched hazy memories from another life—younger, less seasoned versions of people he knew.
Contact might be possible, he mused. According to the lore, these early First Fleet researchers were naturalists, bound by the Hunter's Guild's strict ecological codes. They weren't trigger-happy mercenaries. At this point in time, hunters had rules. The real danger lay in the uncharted wilds, not from a regulated outpost.
…
Despite the thought, he wasn't ready to walk up and introduce himself. After gathering a basic understanding, he quietly withdrew with Peini back into the wilderness.
If the game's geography held true, past Astera lay the endless sands of the Wildspire Waste. He had no desire to go there. A land of scorching dunes and treacherous swamps was no place to settle.
The heart of the Ancient Forest, pulsing with geomantic energy, was his destination. But before venturing deeper, he needed to bolster his capabilities.
Over the past weeks, he'd accumulated 19 Evolution Points. Ten were spent on foundational Physical Enhancements, pushing his length to a solid six meters and boosting his raw strength, speed, and metabolic efficiency.
Now, he focused on perception. In nature, the first to sense a threat held the initiative. The remaining nine points were allocated: Ocular Refinement, Auditory Acuity, and a new Phonic Emission Organ.
The transformative energy worked its magic. The color receptors in his eyes multiplied and specialized. Fine neural filaments branched from them, threading through microscopic foramina in his skull to create a more direct link to his brain. His visual spectrum expanded dramatically into ultraviolet and infrared ranges. In pitch darkness, he would now see the world in a ghostly tapestry of heat signatures.
His ears restructured. The cochlea and tympanic membranes became more sophisticated, capable of parsing a wider range of frequencies, both higher and lower than before.
Most novel was the new chamber that formed in his chest. When he forced air through it, it vibrated at an incredibly high frequency, emitting a focused beam of ultrasonic pulses. These sounds, inaudible to most, would bounce off objects and return to his enhanced ears, painting a mental "sound map" of his surroundings—a biological sonar system.
…
The deeper reaches of the Ancient Forest were a botanical wonderland. Beyond the familiar Needleberries, Blue Mushrooms, and Nitroshrooms, there were fruits of every description.
As they traveled, unfamiliar fruit trees became abundant. It seemed to be peak season. Branches sagged under the weight of yellow and green globes. Ripe ones littered the ground, fermenting and attracting clouds of insects. The damp, rich soil nurtured vast colonies of fungi.
A chorus of chattering, monkey-like calls pulled Logan from his observations. Through his new infrared sight, he saw several ape-like heat signatures moving through the canopy ahead.
They were small, not registering as a major threat. He saw no reason to alter course. He and Peini continued on their path.
The two groups met under a lattice of thick vines. A rustle in the leaves above, and a pink-furred, pot-bellied creature swung into view, squatting on a branch to peer down at them.
A Conga?
Logan blinked. The creature was about four meters long including its tail, and nearly two meters tall. It had the robust, short-limbed body of a powerful ape, covered in bright pink fur, but its head was a bizarre fusion, reminiscent of a hippopotamus, topped with a wild tuft of yellow hair.
As Logan assessed it, the Conga assessed him. It scratched its messy head, a flicker of mischief crossing its beady eyes. It reached to a nearby branch, plucked a round, apple-sized nut, and with surprising strength, hurled it directly at Logan's head.
The nut whistled through the air. Logan merely tilted his head to the side. It struck the soft humus with a heavy thump, embedding itself several inches deep.
Cheeky little bastard.
Logan's brow scales furrowed. Beside him, Peini let out a low, threatening growl, baring her small but sharp teeth.
This only amused the Congas. They erupted into a frenzy of whoops and hollers, leaping about. A veritable hail of nuts rained down.
Logan dodged and weaved, but he couldn't avoid them all. The hard fruits pinged and thudded against his enameled scales and the shock-absorbing gel layer beneath. It didn't hurt, but it was deeply irritating.
Peini, however, lacked his defenses. A particularly well-aimed nut struck her shoulder. She yelped in pain.
That's it.
Logan's eyes narrowed. He lunged for the nearest tree, his claws sinking deep into the bark. He scaled it with feline grace, his powerful muscles propelling him upward in great bounds.
Seeing the predator coming, the Congas scattered with shrieks. They used the thick vines like Tarzan, swinging through the canopy in a desperate retreat.
But Logan was just as agile. He wasn't just a ground predator. He bounded from branch to branch, his movements a blur of white scale and controlled fury. He closed on one lagging Conga.
As he pounced, the wrist-scythes on his forelimbs shot forward with a soft shink. They caught the fleeing ape across its broad back.
Rrrrip.
The serrated, enameled edges tore through pink fur and thick hide like paper, opening a deep, bloody gash.
The Conga screamed, lost its grip on the vine, and plummeted to the forest floor with a sickening crunch. It lay there, writhing and wailing.
The other fleeing Congas didn't run farther. Instead, they stopped. A primal, pack instinct overrode their fear. They regrouped on a thick network of branches, turning to face Logan, their earlier mischief replaced by a chorus of enraged, defiant roars.
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