A single giant beetle grub weighed around 500 grams—enough to sustain a normal small lizard for a month. For Logan, it was a feast that lasted for days.
His new home, the colossal fallen tree, was a treasure trove. Over a hundred meters long and more than ten meters thick, it lay across the forest floor like a moss-covered fortress wall, its rotten heart teeming with countless grubs.
Logan settled in. Using his hard-won needle-seed spear, he became a methodical hunter within the dark, pulpy tunnels. It was a simple, brutal, and effective routine.
The constant influx of rich protein fueled explosive growth. His body lengthened from thirty centimeters to forty, then surged past half a meter. Even excluding his long tail, his torso now measured over twenty centimeters—a respectable size for a lizard in his old world.
The Evolution Points accumulated. He allocated them carefully into a three-part strategy: Strength, Mobility, and Bite Force.
Familiar warmth blossomed within him. His lean, wiry frame began to fill out as muscle fibers multiplied and thickened. Beneath his grey-brown scales, a defined, powerful musculature took shape.
Simultaneously, his skeletal structure underwent another subtle refinement. The broad, low-slung belly typical of lizards receded. His limb bones lengthened and strengthened further, his digits shortening slightly, transforming from hooked climbing claws into robust, padded paws built for running and leaping.
If one stripped away the scales, the underlying musculature and bone structure now resembled that of a compact, powerfully built feline.
This scaled "cat," however, sported a long, balancing tail and a head that was a bizarre yet functional fusion of wolf and crocodile. The investment in bite force had reshaped his skull. His snout elongated and deepened, his jawbones thickening to anchor massive new musculature. His flat lizard's mouth was gone, replaced by a formidable array of teeth: four prominent canines at the front, flanked by sharp shearing teeth, with broad, bone-crushing molars at the rear. It was an omnivore's toolkit, capable of processing both meat and plant matter—a useful trait inherited from his herbivorous lizard ancestry and enhanced by his versatile digestive system.
...
A night of rain had left the forest dotted with puddles. Logan stood over one, less than half a meter wide, studying his reflection.
The creature staring back was unrecognizable from the frail hatchling of weeks past. Sleek, scaled muscle coiled under grey-brown armor. His limbs were taut and ready. His head held a new, predatory dignity.
He had shed his skin two days prior. The new scales that emerged bore small, sharp spines along his crown, spine, and the outer edges of his limbs—keratinous outgrowths signaling his approach to physical maturity.
This body, born of a common grass lizard, was nearing its natural limit at just over half a meter. Any further significant growth would require a deliberate investment of Evolution Points.
That's a problem for future Logan. Right now, bug hunting.
He drank deeply from the puddle, his fortified stomach acids making short work of any waterborne pathogens. He turned to head back to his grub-filled larder.
A strange, squawking call stopped him in his tracks. As he crept closer, the source of the noise came into view: a small flock of red, bipedal monsters.
They stood about eight meters tall, with a crude, bird-like resemblance to wyverns. Their bodies were covered in red shell-like plating, supported by strong legs. Their most distinctive features were huge, shovel-like yellow beaks and large, disc-shaped ears that flopped behind their heads.
Yian Kut-Ku. Great.
Logan melted against the trunk of a nearby tree, then scaled it swiftly for a better view.
The bird-wyverns were methodically wrecking his home. They used their powerful beaks like pickaxes, tearing great chunks of soft, rotten wood from the fallen giant. With each gouge, fat, wriggling grubs were exposed and snapped up.
They're demolishing my cafeteria!
A profound sense of injustice washed over him. It felt like watching a herd of unruly livestock trample a carefully tended garden.
He could only wait, hidden and seething, as the Kut-Ku feasted for over half an hour. Finally sated, they took to the air with heavy, seemingly inefficient wingbeats and vanished into the canopy.
Those wings are too small for their mass. How do they even get off the ground? The physics here are nonsense.
Once the coast was clear, Logan descended. The devastation was extensive, but it came with a silver lining: the scattered wood pulp was now littered with smaller grubs the Kut-Ku had deemed not worth the effort.
He didn't have to dig. He simply patrolled the wreckage, pouncing on the exposed larvae. He pinned one with a paw, bit down on its head, and with a sharp tug, tore it in two before swallowing.
The free lunch was over. He couldn't risk sleeping inside the compromised log anymore. He found a new refuge—a deep fissure hidden under thick moss on a large, living tree nearby.
His caution proved wise. The next day, the Yian Kut-Ku returned. Like clockwork, they landed, squawked, and proceeded to further demolish his former home. This pattern repeated daily for the next two weeks.
The fallen titan was soon riddled with deep pits and gouges, a carpet of wood chips covering the forest floor around it. The grub population, once vast, was now decimated. Only the deepest, most elusive larvae remained.
Perched on a high branch, Logan watched the bird-wyverns finish their final, meager pickings and depart. He looked at the ravaged log with a resigned flick of his tongue.
The cafeteria was officially closed. The Kut-Ku had moved on, and so must he. Scrounging for the last few scraps wasn't worth the energy.
It was time to find a new territory. And perhaps, he thought, his jaws flexing with their new power, it was time to upgrade his menu. Always eating bugs was no way for a hunter to live. He felt ready for something more substantial.
Small rodents, for instance. They looked positively delicious.
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