Having once been human, Logan had an aversion to eating primates. Their similarity was a mental barrier he couldn't overcome. He simply licked the Conga blood from his jaws for the single Evolution Point and left the entire carcass for Peini.
As a growing Zinogre, Peini had no such qualms. Her appetite was voracious, a biological furnace fueling her rapid development. The several-hundred-pound Conga vanished into her maw, leaving only fur, large bones, and the foul-smelling offal. (Game lore mentioned Conga bowels were a delicacy? Logan looked at the glistening mass and felt only revulsion.)
The next day, Logan left the Blangonga alone. And the day after that. He spent the time gathering more Dragon Peppers and investing five of his accumulated points into Olfactory Enhancement.
The transformation sharpened his sense of smell to a preternatural level. His nasal cavity expanded, packed with new olfactory receptors. Scents now translated into vivid, almost tangible trails in his mind—clear, colored lines he could visually follow. Finding specific plants became trivial. His search radius expanded, yielding a much larger haul of the incendiary peppers.
He prepared another stake, coating it thickly with the fiery paste. When darkness fell again, he slipped back into the fruiting woods.
After half a month of peace, the Conga troop had grown complacent, returning to their lazy, scattered sleeping habits in the high branches.
Logan moved like a ghost. He flared his nostrils, sifting the night air. He soon locked onto a distinct, potent odor—a mix of old fur, fermented fruit, and lingering, unique musk. His brain rendered it as a shimmering, pungent yellow trail.
He followed it, weaving through the forest. Over an hour later, he arrived at a gentle, sun-facing slope. It should have been idyllic—a carpet of soft grass dotted with wildflowers and giant, man-sized dandelions.
It was not. A massive, rolling form had turned it into a flattened, muddy mess.
The Blangonga lay in the center of this ruin, sleeping deeply, its thunderous snores shaking the flower stalks. It seemed time had dulled the memory of its pain. Logan intended to refresh it.
He crept forward, the prepared stake in his grasp. Just as he was about to strike, the Blangonga shifted in its sleep, rolling onto its side.
Logan froze, becoming part of the landscape.
The King smacked its lips, muttered, and sank back into slumber. Logan exhaled silently. He circled to the other side, moving with infinite care. Moonlight glinted off the beast's rounded belly, rising and falling rhythmically.
He saw his opening. He drove the stake home with every ounce of his strength, aiming for the same, now-familiar target.
The Blangonga awoke with a screech that transcended pain and entered the realm of pure, outraged agony.
"SKREEEEEEE-GYAAAAA!!!"
It launched itself into the air, twisting and clawing at its backside. This time, the paste was thicker, the penetration deeper. It finally ripped the stake free, but the damage was done. The fiery hell had been reignited within.
Its eyes, bloodshot with pain and fury, scanned the clearing and instantly found the pale, retreating form of Logan.
ROOOOOAR!
It charged, a pink avalanche of pure vengeance.
Logan was already gone, a white streak through the giant dandelions, sending a cloud of fluffy seeds into the air as he vanished into the tree line. If it couldn't catch him before, it stood no chance now against his electrified speed.
He shook the pursuit within minutes. On his way out, he snagged another unlucky Conga from the periphery of the territory, a "gift" for Peini.
Back in the fruiting woods, chaos reigned longer and louder. In its torment, the Blangonga vented its rage on the environment, snapping trees, pounding the earth. The rest of the troop cowered in the high branches, silent and terrified.
The rampage lasted most of the night. Finally, exhaustion overtook the King. It slumped, panting raggedly. Drowsiness pulled at it, but sleep was now the enemy—a vulnerability that invited another searing betrayal. It finally backed its posterior firmly against the thickest tree it could find, pressing the tender area against solid wood. It sat there, eyes wide and paranoid, scanning the darkness until dawn.
…
Logan, for his part, was satisfied. His motives were simple: boredom, and a long, petty memory. As a creature with only survival and basic needs, one had to make their own entertainment.
When he returned to the banyan hollow, Peini bounded out to greet him, her broad tail wagging enthusiastically, her demeanor utterly dog-like.
She was growing fast. Now three meters long, her baby fur was almost gone, replaced by sleek, deep azure scales dotted with small, golden conductive nodules. Her claws and fangs were fully formed, dangerous tools. Most tellingly, her innate electrocytes were now active. Tiny arcs of blue-white electricity occasionally danced across her scales.
When she rubbed against Logan in affection, the static discharge made his own scales tingle and sometimes crackle with a sharp, miniature zap.
It was a clear sign: the raw electrical output of her natural bio-batteries already surpassed his own carefully evolved system.
Species privilege, he thought with a mixture of pride and amusement. Some things you just can't beat.
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