“Once you know a bit more about the local fauna history, a pattern will clearly emerge. During the last couple hundred years, we have registered a steep increase in size, muscle mass, toughness, and recovery in the majority of prey and predators inhabiting unclaimed land, while also encountering some specimens we would previously consider…unnatural.

  The trend is especially worrying when you consider that the one who first brought it up to the academic public was our oldest hunter on record, which means that the increase was noticeable during a modest timeframe.

  This has led to an increased cost in many areas, for the practice of hunting a “normal” sized beast that previously required a single party now requires multiple, and the outliers are… well, the outliers are frankly a problem.”

  Opening musing of “Best Hunting Practices”, primary textbook of the academy-sponsored “Pale Hounds” hunting lodge.

  The days melded together, as the young warrior got back into the temple’s routine, his incentive the promise of power and not the scathing strikes of the willowy cane of his masters.

  Improvements came quickly, reaching levels of physical fitness that would have shocked academics and trainers alike.

  Omri spent the hours in a fatigued haze, only hunting for meat and fruits, drinking and dousing himself in the river’s water, training, and sleeping.

  After this phase, a period of stagnation followed, which brought the boy down from his euphoric state, and thus, he changed his schedule, allotting more time to the hunt, more time to refine his skills and his senses, to properly adjust to his newfound athletic condition.

  Any predator he encountered was scoured in his wake, the clearly enhanced animals not enough to sate the awakened hunter's hunger.

  He again approached the coconut clearing, confidently maneuvering the treetops like the many smaller primates following him around, the promise of a show in their happy little eyes.

  During his first visit, they were saddened by his actions, as he apparently just looked at the pack prancing around, but on the second outing?

  At the six-month mark, he confidently stepped into the meadow, put down the various implements adorning the now scruffy panther’s hide he was wearing, and faced the beasts, a single blade on his hip.

  Monkeys and lemurs were screeching from the trees, as he massacred the creatures, his sword freely dancing in the open field, taking a limb or a life with every single stroke.

  The next day, after his morning training, he went to the south, finding more of the giant paw marks in the deeper jungle.

  He paused his approach, turned back, and amped up his training again, fashioning stone tools to help fuel his growth.

  Unsatisfied by the smaller gains, but still happy about the steady improvements, he kept on, his day newly partitioned into training, hunting, and crafting.

  His pursuits had given him much to explore, the beasts firmly understanding that a new apex was prowling their woods.

  And so, he mapped everything in his territory, many new useful discoveries coming to life one after another, like those almost fluorescent frogs that leaked death from their backs when provoked.

  He upgraded his gear, more bone-tipped arrows now adorning one of the many stashes he stitched on the hides of his enemies, and his home, which was becoming a wooden structure growing at the feet of the hideout that served him well until then.

  After a year, something changed. The claw marks were getting nearer, approaching his home.

  He weighed his options once more and stuck to his routine, changing his routes to stretch miles into the northeast, carefully avoiding the cliffs.

  Searching for challenging but manageable targets.

  One year and four months in, he saw something that made his blood boil.

  The savaged bark of his fig tree, rends in the wood displaying a challenge for the boy to take.

  Omri prepared a couple of frog arrows, equipped all of his gear and went into the forest looking for the mysterious creature.

  His mark found him, the foul stench of rotten meat saving the boy from an untimely death, as the massive, gangly beast ambushed him during his travels.

  Element of surprise aside, the battle was close, with brutal strength and speed against sharp technique and human ingenuity.

  Human ingenuity won the day, a single poisoned arrow, stabbed during one of the frantic exchanges, revealed to be enough to slow down the monster until he managed to inflict a killing blow.

  The giant corpse almost startled him, weaving woods and coiling vines not letting Omri get a good view of his opponent until it lay on the floor, defeated.

  Looking at the wolflike mandrill, twice the boy's height at his shoulders, he felt a profound sense of accomplishment, while the creature's strange features once again cemented the sensation of wrongness that came with each new beastly encounter.

  Killing the ape changed many dynamics for the young hunter, with few challenges left to beat in the vicinity of his home, but night travel was something he still wanted to approach carefully.

  Thus, for eight more months, the boy trained, ate, rested, and crafted, building temporary shelters on the tops of the forest’s giants, tall and wide enough to support him during his sleep when needed.

  This led to another discovery.

  The island, like its inhabitants, was massive, the farthest shores he could access taking multiple days to reach, incredibly alluring, primal sights displayed all along the way, a constant reminder of the majesty of nature, each landscape stoking the embers in Omri’s chest.

  It was a seemingly common day when Omri decided it was enough.

  He felt truly stuck now, new challenges to stimulate his growth were needed, almost craved by the hunter.

  Harder battles, stronger foes.

  Fortunately, he already knew where to find one.

  The undergrowth and its inhabitants were more than aware of his recently acquired place in the pecking order, and he ran undisturbed, sprinting a straight line into the jungle, towards the rocky foothills whose jagged outline stood proud in the distance.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  This time, the sun was still high up in the sky as he reached his objective: the mouth of a large cave, carving deep into the grey stones, its depths pulling at him with a never-ending hum.

  He steadily walked in the cavern darkness, his gaze burning with determination.

  Ready to settle a score.

  Silently navigating the dark tunnels, Omri found the same crevice that shined light in the earth's bowels.

  It was now much more comfortable to go through, enlarged by the large beast chase months ago, the memory no longer a crippling weight, but an obstacle to surpass.

  The winding tunnels were still shining with the same mesmerizing lights he remembered.

  His prey was nowhere to be seen, probably out on a hunt, the morning a prime time for the gigantic bear to find food and so, Omri found his revenge delayed.

  Not willing to waste any minute of the gracious opportunity afforded him by the missing animal, he started preparing himself for the battle.

  He felt ready to face the monster in any condition, but he would not be so arrogant as to refuse such a good advantage.

  So, he coated himself in the dark mud he carried in one of his many fern-woven satchels, before padding the ground with the clay-like substance, sticking it with multiple fang-tipped arrows, easy to reach and ready to use.

  He cautiously retrieved two wooden arrows from his quiver, leaving one sitting on the side of the crevice, and retreated into the narrow tunnel.

  Time to wait.

  His sharp focus never wavered as he lay in the dark recesses of his prey's home, and after hours passed, the boy shifted his stance, knocking his wooden arrow in the nock of his bow, without tensing the string.

  Something changed in the air as the massive bear entered the cave, dragging the carcass of a huge reptilian with him.

  The alpha put down his meal, and sniffed the air twice, looking around his hideout with cruel, hollow eyes, before snorting and goring what Omri now recognized as some sort of scaled lizard with a single bite through its belly.

  A breath he didn’t know he was holding left the boy, and he relaxed his grasp on the bow, knowing that soon an even better opening would come.

  The animal finished savaging its feast before sitting down near the bony remains and, half an hour later, was already snoring, a weirdly shaped, half-eaten femur sticking out of the side of its maws.

  Omri didn’t lose a single moment, getting up and drawing his bow in a single fluid motion.

  The first arrow was still in flight as he took a step, entering the cavern proper, grabbed the tail of the second wooden arrow, nocked it, and shot it.

  As both shallowly penetrated the beast's hind leg, the hunter kneeled taking out from the mud two of the fanged bolts, both serrated tips searing the air as they tore into the flank of the turning creature.

  Malicious madness shone in its eyes as it let out a shattering roar, and charged, facing the youngster.

  Omri let out a last arrow, heavier and longer than the others, hitting his prey on the top of its shoulder.

  The bear flinched, missing a step before quickly recovering, his run devouring the ground between him and the daring ape challenging it.

  Two hands opened, letting the bow fall on the cavern floor, and with practiced ease, the young man grabbed a spear from his back and started to run toward the massive figure, looking at its tensing muscles.

  If the bear was surprised by the small, weird animal’s hubris, it did not show on its frothing mouth, and as Omri got in range, a flash of claws came from the beast's uninjured side, its left paw swiping toward the boy’s position.

  Having expected the move, he efficiently dodged below the attack, a powerful upward thrust already primed to meet the tendons below his enemy's right shoulder.

  Like a matador taunting a bull, he left his grip on the spear stuck on his opponent's limb, unsheathed his sword in a flourish, and with a couple of backward jumps, put some distance between him and the turning monster.

  His eyes widened like saucers, as he saw the multiple tons of creature preparing for a leap, and sprinting to the side, he narrowly dodged the pounce, as the bear impacting on the ground just a couple steps behind him let out a thunderous roar.

  Frantically pivoting to face his enemy, Omri saw the terrifying brown mass getting up from the ground, its savaged limb not strong enough to absorb the shock of the jump.

  What followed was a more controlled repeat of his previous experience with the beast.

  The young hunter kept baiting his prey into overcommitting its attacks.

  The predator kept chasing him.

  Tiring itself, wincing in pain from the accrued wounds.

  After a particularly vicious tumble, Omri’s opponent started to take a cautious approach, the frothing rage in its gaze clearing a bit, to reveal plenty of malicious animal cunning.

  All it got back was more calculated grace, the boy now easily circling the slowed-down enemy, wasting his breath, looking for a single, lethal opportunity.

  After a little more of the back and forth, the beast’s belly presented itself, the ursine falling in a heap as its right limb gave out, its mistake answered with a single, powerful lunge.

  Omri grimaced, as he felt his blade almost getting stuck in the thick, corded muscles, and, clasping the handle with both hands, pulled out his sword, arched his back, and fell in a controlled dive, feeling the displaced air from the bear’s retaliation.

  Taking some distance, he took stock of the situation, giving some reprieve to himself since the start of the fight, his slow breaths heavy and calculated.

  “I may have a problem”.

  Waiting for a charge that never came, he carefully watched his prey, its labored breath, its hesitant gaze, the slow, tired movements of its head.

  “The poison worked, I almost took out one of its limbs in the first minute of the fight, and it has been bleeding for a long fucking time. The fat bastard is just too tough. Getting close for another strike is still doable, but risky”.

  “And waiting for it to die isn’t an option if it somehow realizes that I can’t really stop it from just walking aw…”

  Right on cue, the beast turned and ran, its wobbling gait still quite fast.

  “Oh hell no you don’t!”

  Their roles now reversed, Omri sprinted into a dead run, adrenaline pumping through his legs, each step bringing him closer to his target, which was starting to pick up speed, thunderous uneven steps echoing in the dome of the cave.

  Red, hot rage pulsed at the edges of the boy’s vision, the sight of the apex predator running away sending him into a frenzy, and on that fury, he glided on the rocky terrains, quickly reaching the animal’s rear.

  With his left hand, he took out his knife, jumped, and stuck the sharp implement in the creature's lower back, managing to hold on to the handle.

  Straining his arm, he pulled himself up, retrieved his dagger, balanced on the beast, and started his climb.

  Still steadily holding his longer blade, he scurried on the titanic spine, looking like a man-sized wolverine as he repeatedly punched shallow holes in his foe's hide.

  His opponent tilted up to dislodge him, the boy ignoring his efforts, easily eluding the frantic claws, each swipe trying to bring him down from his perch.

  He managed to reach his target just as a lightbulb went off in the primitive hindbrain of his unwilling ride, the monster now aiming to smash his back into the cavern walls.

  Omri let go of his dirk, jumping up.

  With a single fluid movement, he grabbed onto the bear's left ear, placed his feet on the massive jaws below, and thrust his sword into the panicking eye socket, burying it to the hilt, a burst of gelatinous matter, blood, and slimy humors coating half of his body.

  Finally, the beast fell, hitting the sloping ground of the cave with the dull sound of a cut-down tree.

  Rage melted from his expression, adrenaline leaving him, and, eyes cold, he let go of his blade.

  Omri’s comparatively gentler fall ended with a slight bend of his knees, enough to comfortably absorb the impact, before he moved toward the unmoving beast, halting his steps to admire the sight of his fallen prey.

  There, he proudly stood, covered in dark mud, thick blood, cloying sweat, and foul-smelling vitreous.

  Announcing his victory to the uncaring world, the smirk of a victor still on his lip.

  “Everything as planned”.