Before dusk, the trap was finalized.
The floor of the pit was a forest of sharpened branches, jagged limestone shards, and heavy, broken bones. It was a grisly sight. James had spent an equal amount of effort on the disguise, weaving multiple layers of flexible willow stems, packed soil, and fresh green grass over the mouth until it perfectly matched the surrounding meadow.
With the American Lion's immense bulk, the moment its front paws bore weight on that false turf, gravity would do the rest.
The fauna of this era had absolutely no concept of a hidden pit. In nature, a solid patch of green grass was always a solid patch of green grass. To them, the danger was always a pair of eyes in the brush, never the earth beneath their feet. Zack's behavior proved it—the sub-adult still had his mouth hanging open, watching the scene with a look of utter confusion. He didn't understand what James was doing, nor did he realize how lethal that patch of ground had just become, occasionally stepping closer to peer over the edge until James shoved him back.
What confused Zack even more, however, was why his brother was keeping a massive, fat water-rat as a companion. Instead of crushing its skull for an easy meal, James was actively feeding it branches and protecting it. It completely overturned Zack's simple worldview.
Three times, Zack tried to sneak up on the beaver to taste the fat rodent, but before he could even flex his claws, James delivered a heavy, Paw of Love to his ears. Left with no choice, Zack could only sit back and watch that walking pile of meat waddle around right in front of his eyes.
"Leaving fresh meat uneaten goes against the laws of nature," Zack's sulky expression seemed to say.
With the trap set, James looked up at the sky. The twilight was deepening, the orange horizon bleeding into a dark, bruised purple. This was the hour the lion would wake from its daytime slumber to patrol its new borders.
It was time for the next phase: Waiting for the target.
"ROAR——"
James raised his head and unleashed a booming, resonant challenge straight into the heart of the old Xenosmilus timber. He packed the roar with as much arrogance and territorial aggression as his lungs could muster.
He wasn't acting like a passing juvenile anymore; he was declaring himself an active invader.
"ROAR!!!"
An answer cut through the trees almost instantly, drowning out James's echo. The reply was so deep and thunderous it felt like a shockwave tearing through the valley. The surrounding canopy rattled, leaves cascading down in the wind of the beast's fury.
The birds went dead silent.The entire woodland seemed to hold its collective breath, plunged into an absolute, chilling stillness.
"SQUEAK! SQUEAK!"
The mere sound of that voice sent the Giant Beaver into a blind panic. The ancient, genetic terror of the ultimate apex cat overrode everything else; it spun on its webbed feet and scrambled into a dense thicket, shivering so hard the ferns vibrated.
Nearby, Aurora and Zack didn't run, but the raw power of the roar hit them physically. Both cats instinctively took two steps back, their bellies low to the ground.
Yet, seeing James remain standing like a statue at the boundary, they dug their claws into the dirt, forced their ears forward, and held their positions by his side.
In truth, James felt the primal knot of fear tighten in his own chest. Every muscle in his body braced itself. The forest hadn't changed, but the atmosphere had suddenly turned heavy, suffocating, and thick with the scent of an impending slaughter.
Seconds later, a massive, sandy-yellow shape burst through the distant foliage, kicking up a high line of dust as it charged.
The first thing to clear the brush was the giant's shoulders. The lion's scapulae rose and fell like two small hills under its taut hide. Then came the massive, blunt head. A jagged, pale scar ran from its forehead down across its left eye socket, giving its face a look of raw, murderous malice.
It possessed eyes like burning copper and long, column-like limbs that flexed with every stride. It was the absolute pinnacle of muscle and skeletal power.
The American Lion.
Physically, the creature resembled a gargantuan African lioness. Like its Eurasian cave-dwelling relatives, it belonged to the "maneless" lineage, lacking the heavy ruff of hair around its neck.
"ROAR——"
The lion skidded into the clearing, but as its eyes locked onto the intruders, it paused for a fraction of a second. It had expected a rival pride of lions or perhaps a fully grown pair of Smilodon. Finding three sub-adults instead was an insult.
The pause lasted only a heartbeat before its fury boiled over. He launched himself forward, accelerating with a terrifying speed that belied its size, locking its gaze directly onto James.
"ROAR!"
James didn't stay to fight. He spun and bolted, sprinting directly toward the narrow corridor where the trap lay a hundred meters away.
The enraged lion pursued him relentlessly, its eyes burning with a singular, lethal focus. To think that a few scrawny, half-grown cats had the audacity to call him out on his own border—he was going to tear them apart and leave their bones for the vultures.
A hundred meters was a matter of seconds for two apex predators. As James reached the edge of the false meadow, his hind legs compressed, and he executed a massive, explosive leap, clearing the hidden pit entirely.
The American Lion had no reason to question the jump. It kept its trajectory straight, driving its massive weight forward to close the distance.
An instant later, its massive forepaws slammed onto the woven grass.
The ground dissolved. The lion's heavy chest dipped violently downward. Before its feline reflexes could even register the shift, its entire 350kg frame crashed vertically into the earth.
CRUNCH
A solid, sickening thud echoed from the depths, followed by a sharp, ragged gasp that cut the lion's roar short.
Success.
James pivoted immediately, trotting back to the rim of the pit to look down. His heart was beating violently.
At the bottom, the American Lion was impaled. The heavy, sharpened stakes and split bones had driven deep into its chest, belly, and thighs under the force of its own momentum. The dark earth was rapidly drinking a heavy torrent of crimson blood.
"ROAR!! ROAR!!"
The giant still didn't understand the nature of its defeat. It thrashed its heavy head, roaring in absolute outrage, but every twist of its body only drove the wooden and stone spikes deeper into its vitals, causing its strength to bleed away into the mud.
The loss of blood was catastrophic. Within minutes, the thrashing stopped. The roars deteriorated into a low, wet wheeze, its massive paws twitching weakly against the spikes. It wasn't dead yet, but it was finished.
Aurora and Zack walked to the edge, looking down at the dying king. The expressions on their faces were a mix of awe and absolute disbelief. Zack took a long look at the blood-filled hole, looked at James, and then quietly took three very deliberate steps away from his brother, his tail tucked low. He had finally realized what that harmless dirt hole was meant for.
James didn't waste time. Before the lion could slip away completely, he tracked down the shivering beaver and dragged it out of the ferns. He gave a sharp roar, gesturing toward the irrigation trench they had used before.
The beaver, seeing the monster was safely contained, dug with frantic speed. Within short order, the river water surged down the channel, filling the pit. As the water level rose, the buoyant, blood-drenched carcass of the lion floated to the surface.
James stepped into the shallow rim, reached down with his powerful forelimbs, and dragged the massive predator out onto the grass.
The giant was incredibly resilient; despite the internal trauma, its chest was still faintly rising and falling, its eyes glazed but stubborn. James knew that if the system was going to count the kill, he needed to deliver the final blow himself.
CRACK
James leaned his full weight into his jaws, driving his sabers deep into the back of the lion's neck, severing the spinal cord and ending its life cleanly.
He pulled his teeth free, stepping back to look at the colossus lying at his feet. The lion was easily twice his mass. It felt entirely surreal.
With that final snap, history had been made in the shadow of Mount Elbert. The first great king of the Pleistocene had fallen, not to teeth or claws, but to the calculating mind of a hunter who had rewritten the rules of the wild.