It had been a month and a half since Matias first set foot on Isla Sorna. In that time, Ace had grown into a capable young predator, able to hunt small dinosaurs on his own. One morning, he proudly dragged back the limp body of his first solo kill, eyes gleaming with triumph. Matias rumbled deep in his chest — a low, approving growl that carried the warmth of an older sibling… or perhaps a parent. Ace chirred happily at the praise before tucking into his prize.
Meanwhile, Matias had noticed changes in himself as well. His accelerated growth was becoming more than just an advantage — it was a burden. His body was now larger and more imposing than ever, his frame thick with muscle and power, yet the sheer weight was starting to test even his honed agility.
Every movement carried more force, but also more strain. His rapid healing, rapid growth, and rapid adaptation kept him functional, but they couldn't fully mask the truth — his body was evolving faster than it could completely adjust.
He knew what he needed. A prey large enough to fuel the next stage of his transformation. A creature that could provide the strength, stamina, and structural reinforcement his growing body demanded.
Somewhere out there, a sauropod roamed, and taking it down would not only feed him for days but push him closer to the apex of Isla Sorna.
The search took them deep into the lush heart of Isla Sorna, where the trees grew like pillars of an ancient cathedral. Their footsteps were muffled by ferns and the damp earth, the air rich with the scent of rain and leaves. Then, through a break in the canopy, Matias saw it.
The Brachiosaurus was a living tower, its massive form swaying gently as it stripped leaves from the tallest trees. Sunlight poured across its slate-gray hide, revealing a lattice of scars and weathered hide that spoke of decades of survival.
Each step it took made the ground tremble softly, like distant thunder. Its neck — impossibly long, graceful despite its bulk — reached higher than any predator could dream of climbing, and its small head moved with quiet precision as it fed.
Ace froze beside Matias, awestruck by the sight. This was no skittish herbivore — the Brachiosaurus was a colossus, one of the true giants of the island. Its sheer size meant that few dared to challenge it… and those that did rarely walked away unscathed. But to Matias, it was exactly what he had been searching for — the perfect source of strength and sustenance.
The wind shifted, carrying their scent toward the giant. Slowly, the Brachiosaurus turned its head, massive dark eyes settling on the two predators. It did not flee. Instead, it released a deep, resonating bellow, a warning that rolled through the jungle like the roar of a storm.
Matias flexed his claws, muscles coiling like steel cables beneath his skin. This would not be like hunting any other prey. This was a battle against a creature that could crush him under a single step — and he would need every ounce of cunning and power to bring it down.
Ace glanced up at him, tail twitching in anticipation.
Matias gave a slow, approving growl.
It was time.
The Brachiosaurus's warning bellow faded into the humid air, but Matias was already moving. His muscles surged with explosive power, each step shaking the undergrowth. The giant turned to flee, but against Matias's speed, it was already too late.
He closed the distance in seconds, leaping onto its side with claws like curved blades. The Brachiosaurus let out a trumpeting cry, rearing slightly, but Matias's jaws clamped around the thick column of its neck. The force of his bite tore through hide and muscle with a sickening rip, arterial blood spraying in heavy bursts.
The behemoth staggered, swinging its massive tail in a desperate attempt to dislodge him, but Matias used the momentum, climbing higher along its body. One savage tear after another, he crippled its muscles, his claws ripping through sinew like paper. In less than a minute, the giant's knees buckled, and it collapsed with an earth-shaking thud that sent flocks of pterosaurs screaming into the sky.
Matias stood over the fallen titan, chest heaving, his muzzle drenched crimson. He tore into its flesh without hesitation, the rich protein and life-filled blood fueling something deep within him.
Ace kept his distance, eyes wide as he watched Matias devour the kill. Then, the change began.
Matias's muscles swelled, plates of armor-like scales thickening and spreading across his body. His frame stretched taller, bones groaning under the strain before reinforcing themselves with staggering density. In moments, he stood over 10 meters tall from the hips, his body lengthening to 15 meters, his mass surging past 1,000 tons — a living fortress of muscle and scale.
Ace took a step back, instinct telling him to be wary. This was no longer the Matias he had known just minutes ago — this was something far more dangerous. The air seemed to hum with the raw presence of his power.
Matias lowered his massive head toward the younger predator, his eyes calm. Slowly, he nudged his snout against Ace, a low rumble resonating from deep within his chest. The message was clear — there was nothing to fear.
Ace blinked, the tension in his frame easing, though he couldn't help but glance up and down at his leader's new, colossal form. If Matias had been a monster before… now he was a god among predators.
Matias let out a deep, satisfied rumble as the last of the strain in his body melted away, replaced by a comfortable lightness in his movements. Every muscle felt stronger, every step steadier, and the constant ache from his rapid growth was gone.
He could feel the difference in his very bones—his body adapting, welcoming the new strength like it had always been meant to be there. With a thought, he poured his points into his abilities, watching as most of them climbed to B Rank.
Turning to Ace, he gave a short, low call—his way of saying "your turn."
Ace's head perked up immediately, eyes brightening before he bounded forward with an almost puppy-like eagerness. The smaller predator nudged Matias' side in thanks before digging into the kill, tail swishing happily.
Matias stayed close, lowering his head to gently nudge Ace's back from time to time, as if reminding him to eat slowly. At one point, Ace gave a playful growl and swiped his tail at Matias' leg, earning a deep, amused huff from his guardian.
After they finished eating, the two made their way back to the nest, their bellies heavy and their steps slow from contentment. The sun filtered down through the canopy in warm, dappled patches, and the sounds of distant insects and rustling leaves lulled the clearing into a lazy afternoon calm.
Ace, still full of energy despite the meal, padded around the nest, his tail swaying from side to side. Every so often, he would puff out his chest, stretch his neck as high as it would go, and let out a roar—well, more of a squeaky rumble—that was clearly meant to imitate Matias' deep, resonant bellow. Sometimes he'd even try to stomp his feet dramatically, only to end up stumbling and flopping onto the soft ground with a surprised chirp.
Matias lay curled in his spot, watching with a quiet amusement. His heavy tail gave a slow thump against the earth, a sign of his approval. When Ace tried again—this time standing on a little mound of dirt to make himself look taller—Matias let out a low, rumbling chuckle. He leaned forward, giving the youngster an affectionate nudge with his snout, causing Ace to squeal and scamper in circles, clearly proud of himself.
They stayed like that for a while—Matias resting in the sun's warmth, eyes half-lidded, while Ace darted about, occasionally plopping down beside him to mimic his posture before bounding off again. It was a rare, peaceful moment in their harsh world, the kind that made the bond between them feel less like survival and more like family.
Matias felt the small warmth of Ace pressing against his side, the boy's breathing steady and calm. A faint, almost forgotten feeling stirred in him—comfort, belonging. It made him glad he had saved Ace; without him, the long, silent days would have been far lonelier. He had been starting to miss the camaraderie of his old life—faces of friends, the sound of laughter, the simple ease of human company.
But that comfort came with a sharp, unshakable question gnawing at him: if the day came, whose side would he stand on? Human or dinosaur? The thought pulled at him like opposing tides. A part of him still clung to his humanity, the memories of the world he had once called home. Yet the heavy weight of his body reminded him with every breath that he no longer belonged to that world.
He didn't want to see all humans as enemies. He refused to—at least, not unless they forced his hand. But he could not ignore reality. To them, he would be a monster first and a mind second, an anomaly to be feared, hunted, or caged. That knowledge was a cold stone in his gut.
So he resolved to walk the thin line—vigilant and wary, ready to defend himself and those he cared for, yet unwilling to throw away the chance that some humans might still be negotiable.