A heavy paw caught me right on the side of my head, sending me stumbling sideways into the snow.
"Roar~~"
Mom stood over me, her teeth bared in a snarl that wasn't about hunting—it was about parenting. She was furious. My little solo assassination mission had nearly ended with me getting my spine snapped by a desperate adult.
"Aowu~~"
I stayed down, tucking my chin and curling my tail. I didn't try to look tough. In the wild, you learn fast: when Mom is that mad, you show submission or you get another round. I buried my nose in my paws, acting as small as possible to show I knew I'd messed up. She was only angry because she'd almost lost me.
"Roar~~"
Seeing my immediate surrender, her anger softened. She leaned down and gave my head a rough nudge, checking for any deep gashes. Once she saw I only had a few surface scratches, she let out a long, tired huff and turned back to the family.
[Ding! Host participated in hunting a Smilodon Fatalis. Gene Points +50.]
Fifty points for an assist. I was absolutely over the moon. If I'd taken him down solo, that would've been a triple-digit points.
System, show me the stats.
---
[Host]: James
[Species]: Smilodon Fatalis (Sub-adult)
[Age]: 1 Year
[Strength]: 62 (+)
[Agility]: 56 (+)
[Constitution]: 60 (+)
[Gene Points]: 280
[Fused Genes]: Flat headed Peccary, Clouded Leopard, Hunting Hyena
[Reinforcements]: Skin hardening (Lv1), Tail (Lv1), Bite Force (Lv1)
---
280 points. I was so close to that shark gene I could almost taste the salt water. After seeing that male's teeth lying in the snow like broken glass, I knew regeneration wasn't just a luxury—it was a necessity. A Sabertooth without sabers isn't a predator; it's a corpse waiting to happen.
Mom and Dad didn't touch the intruder's body.
I didn't either. Even with my human brain, the idea of eating another tigeras my own kind made my stomach turn. There's a biological reason for that: Prions.
Cannibalism is a fast track to getting infected with misfolded proteins that turn your brain into a sponge. In my previous life, they called it Mad Cow Disease. In the wild, it looks like a zombie—uncoordinated, drooling, and insanely aggressive until the nervous system just quits.
Even if Mom and Dad didn't know the science, the don't eat your own rule was hardwired into their DNA. Zack tried to take a sniff, but Dad gave him a warning growl that sent him skittering back.
Dad grabbed the carcass by the scruff, dragged it to the very edge of our territory, and dumped it in the open. It was a message to any other drifters: This is what happens when you knock on our door.
It didn't take long for the local cleanup crew to find the message.
A pack of hunting hyenas arrived first, their high-pitched "hee-hee" cackles echoing like they were laughing at the fallen king. The largest female—the Matriarch—tore into the stomach, her jaws making short work of the muscle.
But the party didn't last.
"Aowoooooo!!"
A long, chilling howl cut through the cackles. The grass began to rustle as shadows emerged from the treeline. The hyenas froze, realizing they were already surrounded.
"Aowu!!"
A dozen Dire Wolves (Canis dirus) stepped into the moonlight, their grey-white fur blending with the snow. These weren't your average timber wolves;
they are the second largest wolf to ever exist after Epicyon Haydeni.
The wolves didn't attack immediately. They parted ways, making a path for a beast that made the rest of the pack look like puppies.
The Alpha was nearly two meters long, a hulking mass of muscle and scars. He was one of the biggest canine to ever walk the earth—the Dire Wolf King.
"Aowu~~"
The Hyena Matriarch looked at the wolf, then at his pack, and realized the math didn't add up in her favor. She let out a submissive yip and backed away from the tiger carcass, offering it up as a peace treaty.
"Ao~~"
The Wolf King didn't care about the meat. He gave a low, vibrating growl, and the circle of wolves began to close in.
In the Pleistocene, wolves and hyenas were like Hyenas and the lions—bitter rivals with a blood feud. The Dire Wolves had the numbers, the size, and the range. While hyenas were stuck in the warm south, these wolves ruled from the frozen tundras to the tropical swamps.
The hyenas realized too late that this wasn't a negotiation. It was an extermination. By the time the Ice Age ended, these wolves would have pushed the hunting hyenas out of existence entirely.
I watched from the ridge, staying silent. The neighborhood was getting deadlier by the hour.