Chirp, chirp…
Golden wheat fields swayed in the gentle breeze under a brilliant sun, filling the air with a soft, rhythmic rustling. A slightly weathered scarecrow stood solitary in the middle of the field, keeping a silent watch over the shimmering, golden ocean. Nearby, an old red tractor with peeling paint poked its front out from the tall stalks like a surfaced submarine.
Buzz...
A locust, about the width of a human finger, beat its wings and latched onto a mature, golden stalk of grain, preparing to gorge itself.
Snap! Crunch... crunch!
Suddenly, a Cretaceous locust, nearly the size of a human forearm, shot out from the golden sea! It clamped its jaws shut, snapping up its modern descendant and swallowing it whole to the sound of crunching chitin.
As if acting on some primal urge, the creature quickly laid a massive cluster of large eggs along the base of the stalks. Beneath the dense foliage where the sunlight couldn't reach, hundreds, if not thousands, of identical eggs lay hidden.
Crack… crack…
Spherical eggs split open one after another. Emerging at a size already matching adult modern locusts, the Cretaceous nymphs began growing at a visible rate. Spotting the golden wheat ears, they swarmed forward ravenously, only to halt abruptly just before biting down, as if sensing a hidden directive.
Dr. Wu's experiment... succeeded?
The camera panned upward, revealing a completely untouched square of golden wheat standing entirely isolated. All around it, the surrounding farmlands had been stripped bare, reduced to a desolate wasteland where a golden ocean had once thrived.
Thud!
A massive locust landed heavily on the tractor, right on a sack of wheat seeds where the "BioSyn" logo was explicitly prominent.
Dr. Wu had succeeded, but his success... was a tightly controlled, orchestrated outcome.
Sniffing...
Carlo forged ahead along a desolate suburban highway, constantly tracking the residual scents left behind by Giga Dad and the others.
The scent trail in the air had degraded to the point of near-extinction; fragmented, erratic, and twisted. If Carlo hadn't possessed his biological radar, this tracking job would have been a grueling, miserable ordeal.
Even with his internal guidance, the prolonged trek was taking a toll. The exhaustion wasn't physical, but mental. He was highly irritable right now; even as he ran at a full sprint, he radiated an intensely oppressive, low-pressure aura.
Earlier, he might have carefully navigated around urban gridlocks, but now? He was highly likely to plow straight through high-rises just to take a shortcut.
Why do humans insist on constantly causing problems?
Carlo noticed a road sign standing by the wayside. Compared to his towering silhouette, the sign looked no larger than a lollipop next to a human.
Veering slightly off the main road, he lined up his trajectory perfectly with the sign, and then... stomped it into a compressed file!
Before the sign could even emit a proper crunch of structural failure, it was effectively factory-reset into the cracked asphalt.
First it was Whitemask, and now it's this human dinosaur-poaching operation. Why is everything always gunning for me...
Carlo tore across the wilderness, venting his pent-up frustration by systematically trampling every single roadside sign he came across into kindling.
Suddenly, a realization struck him. His massive strides hitched for a fraction of a second, though he didn't lose his overall momentum.
Because of... me?
Pieces of the puzzle began clicking together. Whether it was Whitemask or the myriad of human incursions that had disrupted his life over the past month, they all shared one unmistakable, unifying objective—him.
The Whitemask forces had unleashed their absolute heaviest firepower exclusively upon his position. The rest of the intruders... aside from the occasionally unhinged lunatics who just wanted a selfie with him, they were all explicitly tracking his location.
As a dinosaur, Carlo didn't normally pay much attention to his own physical size, though this gargantuan body certainly had its perks. But once he applied his latent human knowledge, his rusted brain began firing on all cylinders after a long hiatus.
Most humans valued dinosaurs for two primary traits: size and raw power. Carlo's sheer size alone made him the ultimate focal point for humanity. A Giganotosaurus of his unprecedented proportions was already giving the paleontological community a massive collective headache, to say nothing of how ecstatic the underground dinosaur-fighting rings would be.
It was a pity Carlo couldn't browse the fantasy battle edit videos humans made about him.
So... everything is happening because of me?
Carlo finally realized the root of the problem, even if the realization came a bit late.
He was essentially the default leader of the dinosaur population in the eyes of humanity. Those who championed dinosaurs idolized him, while those who feared or hated them vilified him, going to extreme lengths to put him down.
He had never been given a choice. He was simply forced onto this metaphorical "throne," left to endure a relentless cycle of adoration and assassination attempts.
Worse still, the friction between humanity and dinosaurs had reached an entirely irreconcilable flashpoint, and he was squarely positioned at the center of the vortex.
Pulling his consciousness back into his immediate surroundings, Carlo pondered deeply. Perhaps he had come to a decision? Perhaps he had steeled his resolve?
Ocean breeze howling...
A moisture-laden gale buffeted Carlo's colossal frame. Accompanied by the cheerful, shrill cries of seagulls, Carlo's focus snapped entirely back to reality.
The coast? How did I run this far?
The Mojave Sanctuary was located in California. While the state bordered the Pacific Ocean, Carlo had been running non-stop day and night. Had he literally sprinted across the entire length of America?
An absolutely terrifying display of power.
The surrounding terrain was still dominated by wind-eroded topography. Carlo cast a swift glance at the towering mountains to the northeast before pushing onward.
He could already hear the crashing of the waves.
Heavy exhalation...
The solitary Allosaurus leader lay resting on a hillside. The afternoon sun felt incredibly comfortable, but he found himself wishing he had his packmates here to share the warmth.
He pushed himself up slowly, stepping toward the edge of the cliff to survey the boundless, arid plains below, letting out a low, mournful rumble.
"Roar—"
The roar carried far across the landscape, interacting with the irregular rock pillars to produce a strange, whistling echo that sounded inexplicably sorrowful.
One of his packmates had perished at the hands of the Scorpios rex, another had been captured and sold into parts unknown, and the last had been blinded by human branding irons, vanishing without a trace.
Out of his entire pack, he was the only leader to survive completely unscathed, and he intended to keep surviving.
The sweeping mountain scenery cast an incredibly lonely silhouette around him, but suddenly, as if spotting something intriguing, he locked his gaze onto the distant coastline.
White froth churned as the waves broke against the pale sand. The beach was lightly littered with plastic bottles and tangled seaweed, detracting from its natural beauty.
Crash—crash—
Footsteps in the sand...
The roar of the tide was deafening, drowning out almost every other sound. Carlo's massive pads pressed into the soft earth; when he lifted his foot, he left an enormous depression in the sand that was immediately reclaimed by the shifting, granular tide.
Carlo lowered his head, catching the pungent scent of brine before stepping directly into the surf.
At first, his massive strides kicked up explosive plumes of white water. Gradually, however, the heavy impacts gave way to muffled, buoyant motions. Within moments, his feet lost contact with the seabed entirely, and he floated out onto the surface of the open ocean.
[Stamina: 750/749.1]
Absolutely not! This was completely unacceptable!
Carlo's historically unyielding stamina bar had ticked down by a fraction of a fraction due to swimming. He instantly whipped his massive body around, scrambled back onto dry land, and vigorously shook the residual seawater from his hide.
How am I supposed to cross an ocean?
Carlo looked up at the horizon, sensing the fading, distant trail of Giga Dad and the others, sinking deep into thought.
Wooong—
The deep, resonant horn of a cargo ship echoed across the sea line.
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