The black shadow that burst out and flattened the two condors was, of course, me.
After dropping that male boar, I used his carcass as a lure and hunkered down in the brush. In the world of survival, fishing for scavengers is way more efficient than running until your lungs burst. The two condors were kings of the sky, but on the ground, they were basically oversized chickens. Two swipes, two kills.
---
[Ding! Host hunted a California Condor. Gene Points +10.]
[Ding! Host hunted a California Condor. Gene Points +10.]
---
Another twenty points in the bank. I did the simple math: 20 from the llama, 25 from the boar, and 20 from the birds. I'd banked 65 points in less than half a day.
"Should I keep going?" I looked at the sky. The light was fading fast, turning the plains into a sea of bruised purple. I decided to call it. Greed is how you end up as someone else's point total. I started dragging the boar's carcass, figuring I'd bring the main course home to the family.
SCREECH!!
A sound like a metal saw hitting a bone ripped through the air behind me. It was so loud it felt like a physical punch to the back of my head. I spun around, claws out, and felt my stomach drop.
Stepping out from the treeline was a nightmare on two legs.
"Titanis... the Terror Bird."
I'd heard of them, but seeing one in person was different. This thing was a flightless, meat-eating dinosaur disguised as a bird. It stood nearly three meters tall. I'm a sub-adult Sabertooth, but I didn't even come up to its knees. I had to crane my neck just to see its face.
Its head was the size of a horse's, and its beak wasn't a beak—it was a heavy, hooked bone-axe. If my sabers were scimitars, this thing's mouth was a sledgehammer with a blade. It was made of thick keratin that grew constantly, designed to cave in skulls and rip through hide like wet paper.
Then there were the legs. Thick, muscular pillars built for sprinting at 65 km/h. One death kick from those talons would turn my ribcage into splinters.
This wasn't a scavenger. This was a top-tier predator that could go toe-to-toe with an American Lion and probably win.
I didn't even try to look tough. I dropped the boar carcass instantly. That pig was his now. I turned tail and bolted in the opposite direction, my heart beating fast.
SCREECH!!
The bird yelled one last piercing cry, but it didn't chase. It was interested in the easy meal I'd left behind. I looked back once to see it tearing into the boar, its massive beak snapping through the thick Peccary skin like it was paper.
Ten minutes later, I was miles away, leaning against a rock and gasping for air. My lungs felt like they were on fire.
"Today I learned a lesson to never get cocky. There's always a bigger fish—or in this case, a much bigger bird."
I waited until my breathing leveled out before heading back to the den. From a distance, I could see two familiar shapes pacing near the entrance. Mom and Dad. They kept stopping to stare at the horizon, their ears swiveling, looking for any sign of me.
"Roar~~"
Mom spotted me first and released a low, vibrating call. It sounded like a question.
"ROAR!"
I shouted back, breaking into a trot. When I reached them, they did the usual check—sniffing for blood, nudging my head. Once they saw I was in one piece, they finally relaxed and headed inside.
Zack and Zoe were already in the back of the cave, tangled together and snoring. They were homebodies. Unless Mom and Dad dragged them out, they were perfectly happy to sleep, eat, and play-fight in the safety of the territory.
"Must be nice," I thought, looking at their peaceful faces.
I'm the one out there getting hunted by prehistoric ostriches because I'm obsessed with leveling up. Sometimes I envied their simple life—eat until full, sleep until rested. But I knew the truth: in a couple of years, we'd be on our own. And when that day came, this type of life wouldn't keep me alive.
I curled up near the entrance, the image of that three-meter bird still burned into my mind. I needed to get stronger. Fast.