"From today on… I'm not human anymore."
After half a day of adjustment, he finally accepted the reality of his rebirth as a saber-toothed tiger.
The first step was learning to control his body—how to move, how to balance, how to coordinate his limbs without tumbling over himself.
The second step was familiarizing himself with his surroundings—and his new "family."
First came his mother, Wilma.
She was massive. Powerful. Every step she took radiated authority.
Whenever he walked close to her thick, pillar-like legs, he felt an instinctive pressure, half awe and half fear. One careless step from her and he would be flattened without question.
Yet deep down, he knew—
One day, he would grow just as large.
Just as strong.
Next was his younger brother, Brock.
For reasons he couldn't quite explain, the name fit him perfectly. Big head, slow reactions, and a tendency to bump into things—it was almost uncanny how well it matched.
Last was the youngest of the litter, his little sister, Vivi.
Her fur was noticeably brighter than the others, a vivid orange-yellow that stood out even from a distance. The color instantly reminded him of the orange cat he had once raised in his previous life.
The resemblance stirred a strange sense of nostalgia.
Over the course of the afternoon, Wilma led the three cubs on a slow patrol, rubbing her body against trees and rocks, leaving scent markers wherever she went.
He followed closely behind, pretending to be obedient while secretly estimating the size of Wilma's territory.
And the result shocked him.
Her core territory alone spanned well over a hundred square kilometers—possibly closer to two hundred. And that was only the central region. During harsher seasons, especially winter, it would expand even further in search of prey.
Of course, Wilma didn't patrol the entire area in a single outing.
As the sun dipped toward the horizon, she turned back, leading her cubs home.
A saber-toothed tiger's territory was not the same as its dwelling.
Most of it served as hunting grounds, shared—uneasily—with herbivores and the occasional bold or foolish carnivore.
But at the very heart of that territory lay something different.
A sanctuary.
A place that no other creature was allowed to invade.
Following Wilma's steady pace, he was soon led back to the cave where their family lived.
The moment he stepped inside, a sharp, unpleasant odor assaulted his senses.
His stomach churned.
He nearly gagged.
At that instant, a serious question surfaced in his mind.
Is there any way to teach basic hygiene to prehistoric saber-toothed tigers?
As he forced himself to adapt, he noticed the cave interior was lined with dry grass and fallen leaves, forming a rough nest.
Crude—but effective.
This was home now.
And if he intended to survive, evolve, and eventually dominate this world—
This cave would be where it all began.
The ground was covered with what could generously be described as bedding.
Judging by the flattened shape and lingering odor, it was probably the family's long-used sleeping mat—layers of dead grass and leaves trampled into a crude mattress.
Having something to sleep on instead of bare stone was, in theory, a blessing.
But did no one ever think about replacing it?
The smell was overwhelming. Worse still, insects crawled freely across the surface, completely unbothered by the presence of giant predators.
His scalp—if he still had one—felt numb.
For a moment, he genuinely feared his heart might give out.
Wilma, on the other hand, clearly didn't care.
She lowered her massive body onto the bedding without hesitation, curling slightly as if fully prepared to rest.
Brock and Vivi had followed her on patrol for half the day and were utterly exhausted. The two cubs collapsed beside her, limbs limp, eyes already drooping.
Just as they were about to fall asleep—
They were abruptly dragged back to reality.
"Absolutely not."
Of course, no words came out—only sharp, insistent growls—but the meaning was clear enough.
He had no particular obsession with cleanliness.
But this environment was beyond unacceptable.
There was no way he was sleeping in a nest of bugs.
Decision made, he immediately began a basic cleanup.
The cave wasn't especially large, but it wasn't small either. Doing it alone would take far too long.
Wilma was clearly not going to help.
That left the two cubs.
Luckily, cubs were easy to manage.
He moved first, using his front paws to rake together clumps of rotting grass and leaves. One pile at a time, he dragged them toward the entrance and pushed them outside.
Brock and Vivi stared blankly, clearly unable to understand what he was doing.
"Rrrr…?"
Brock yawned heavily, eyes half-closed. His limbs went soft, and he turned around, intending to flop back down.
Smack.
A fleshy paw landed squarely on his head.
Brock yelped, baring his tiny fangs in shock and pain.
That did it.
He hadn't been allowed to sleep—and now he'd been hit?
Outraged, Brock scrambled to his feet and charged, short legs pumping as he lunged forward, flashing his still-undeveloped tiger teeth.
Fine.
If he wanted to learn the hard way, so be it.
As the older cub, he had both size and strength on his side. He didn't bother with finesse.
The moment Brock pounced, he sidestepped and pressed down, using his weight to pin his brother flat against the ground.
"Rrr—! Rrr—!"
Brock struggled wildly, flailing and yowling, but it was useless.
One forepaw pinned his upper body. Another blocked his limbs.
There was no escape.
He leaned down and growled again, low and firm.
Convinced yet?
The sound that came out was still soft and childish—but the dominance was unmistakable.
Brock froze.
He had been completely overpowered.
Pinned to the ground, all his earlier bravado vanished. He whimpered pitifully, small sounds slipping from his throat, as if desperately trying to say, I give up. I surrender.
Seeing the fear in Brock's eyes, James felt a surge of satisfaction.
See? Still not obedient?
He climbed off his brother with a victorious air, then immediately began directing the two cubs like a seasoned commander.
Compared to Brock, Vivi was far more sensible.
Seeing her second brother bullied into submission so thoroughly, she made a swift and wise decision—obedience was clearly the better option.
Before long, under James's close supervision, the two cubs began copying his earlier movements, scraping together dead leaves and broken branches and dragging them out of the cave.
Once the old bedding had been cleared away, he led them outside again, gathered fresh leaves and twigs, and carefully spread them across the cave floor.
By the time everything was finished, night had fallen.
Outside the cave, darkness swallowed everything. It was so black that even their own paws were hard to see.
Wilma was already fast asleep, her steady breathing echoing like distant thunder.
Brock and Vivi, on the other hand, looked completely drained. After being "trained" so mercilessly, they collapsed onto the new bedding like lifeless sacks.
Watching the scene, James felt deeply satisfied.
For some reason, memories of circus animals from his previous life surfaced in his mind.
"I wonder how those trainers do it…"
He felt a hint of regret. If only he had learned animal training back then—maybe handling two cubs wouldn't have taken so much effort.
Ah, forget it.
There's plenty of time.
With that thought, he finally lay down on the freshly made bedding.
Just as his eyes were about to close—
"ROAR—!"
A deep, powerful roar suddenly echoed from outside the cave.
James's body stiffened.
That sound…
Wasn't that a saber-toothed tiger?
Almost instantly, Wilma stirred. She lifted her head and slowly rose to her feet, her posture alert.
Even Brock and Vivi, exhausted moments ago, jumped up with surprising excitement.
"…What's going on?"
He stared toward the pitch-black cave entrance, unease creeping into his thoughts.
A moment later, a massive silhouette emerged from the darkness.
A huge male saber-toothed tiger stepped forward, powerful muscles shifting beneath his fur. Clamped firmly in his jaws was the bloodied body of a young pronghorn antelope.
The moment they saw it, Brock and Vivi rushed forward happily, circling the prey with excited cries.
Watching the scene, realization struck James all at once.
So that's how it is.
This male saber-toothed tiger—
Was their father.