The rhythmic, thunderous snoring of Mom and Dad echoed through the den as they slept curled together. I crept over to them, moving as silently as a shadow. My eyes locked onto the jagged, reopened gash on Mom's shoulder.
"System, exchange 15 points for Global Healing. Target: Mom."
[Ding! 15 Healing Points applied.]
The effect was silent . Mom didn't twitch ,she stayed deep in her slumber, unaware that the microscopic architects of the system were already weaving her muscle fibers back together and flushing out the bacteria. In a few days, she'd be as good as new.
A week flashed by. After a month and a half of playing the patient and grinding for rabbit points, I was finally, officially back to my original state. No more limping, no more dull throbbing in my hip. I spent the afternoon stretching, feeling the raw power of my sub-adult muscles rippling under my skin.
"Roar~~"
As evening bled into the sky, Mom and Dad stood up to head out for the night's hunt. I didn't stay on my bed of grass this time. I trotted right up to them and let out a sharp, demanding roar.
I'm coming with you.
Mom lowered her massive head, nudging my cheek with a worried huff. She still saw the broken cub from a few weeks ago and didn't want me near anything with hooves.
"ROAR!"
I stood my ground, digging my claws into the dirt and showing off my steady, powerful stance. I wasn't asking. Dad looked at me for a long second, his eyes calculating, before giving a short, gruff nod.
Trailing behind Mom and Dad, my eyes scanned the horizon with a predatory heat I hadn't felt in weeks. Being stuck at home had been torture; now, it was time for some real hunt. This would be my first official big hunt as a sub-adult.
Maybe they were still worried about my leg, because Mom and Dad bypassed the bison herds and zeroed in on a group of Llamas. They were mid-sized, standing about 1.8 meters tall and weighing maybe 300 to 400 pounds. Perfect warm-up prey.
The five of us belly-crawled through the tall grass, our bellies brushing the soil. Ahead, a massive herd of what looked like oversized, long-necked sheep were gathered.
"Moo~~ Moo~~"
The herd had split into smaller groups to graze. Right in front of our ambush spot, two male llamas were making fools of themselves, circling a smaller female. It was mating season, and these two were busy fighting for bragging rights.
They started with the gentlemanly approach—spitting at each other. They traded green, grassy lozenges back and forth with impressive accuracy. But the female looked bored, so they decided to escalate to actual violence.
"Moo!"
"MOO!!"
They slammed into each other like clumsy wrestlers, swinging their long necks around like fleshy clubs and kicking out with their hind legs. The female just stood there, calmly chewing grass like a spectator at a boxing match who's only there for the popcorn.
Finally, the larger male landed a solid kick and sent his rival packing. He strutted toward the female, chest puffed out, ready to claim his prize. The female took a few steps toward him, seemingly impressed by his valor.
BAM—!
The confident male didn't even see the blur of fur. Dad rushed out of the grass hitting the female before she could even blink. The weight of a 250kg tiger is an absolute death sentence for a 300-pound llama. She hit the dirt with a pathetic bleat.
"Moo~~"
She looked at her hero for help, but the male showed exactly how loyal he was. He didn't even pause to say goodbye; he scrambled over his own feet and bolted in the opposite direction.
Dad had no mercy. He locked onto her throat, his long sabers sliding through her fur and into the windpipe and carotid artery. A few seconds of thrashing, and the light went out of her eyes.
Sorry, buddy, looks like your victory fruit just got picked by someone else.
Meanwhile, the hero male was sprinting for his life, unaware that three younger tigers were right on his heels. I was in the lead, with Zack and Zoe trailing slightly behind. The llama was already gassed from his fight with the other male, and I was gaining on him fast.
"ROAR—!"
I let out a roar to rattle his nerves, then lunged. I didn't go for the throat yet; I reached out and hammered my heavy paw into his haunches.
Thump!
The force of the blow sent the llama sprawling face-first into the dirt. I didn't give him a chance to find his feet. I pounced on his back, burying my weight into him, and locked onto the back of his neck.
Unlike Dad, who relies purely on the stab of the sabers, I used my new hardware. As my sabers pierced the hide, I engaged my Level 1 Bite Force. My jaws clamped down like a hydraulic press.
CRUNCH
I felt the neck vertebrae snap instantly. The llama didn't even have time to scream. It was a clean, efficient kill—the kind that makes a hunter's heart race.
"Oh, that felt good. I really missed this feeling."
Zack and Zoe caught up, looking at the dead llama with wide, impressed eyes. I ignored them, leaning down to lap up the blood bubbling from the wound.