By the way, I changed the reward of his mission from Evolved to Synthesis.
At first I was thinking of the skills is something that makes the dinosaur stronger and mutate them. But decide to change it.
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Ace padded quietly through the undergrowth, his small frame slipping between ferns and shrubs with surprising ease. The forest smelled damp after the morning rain, every leaf dripping and alive.
His amber eyes darted from shadow to shadow, ears twitching at the distant calls of other dinosaurs. He was out here alone, for once, because Matias had gone scouting.
It still felt strange being without him. For as long as Ace could remember, his world had been his mother.
She had been gentle but firm, always nudging him along when he stumbled and keeping him close when predators prowled too near.
He could still remember the soft rumble of her voice, the warmth of her body against his own. Losing her had left a hole that nothing could quite fill.
When Matias appeared, though… things changed. He wasn't like any creature Ace had ever seen before.
Too strange, too powerful, and yet—he wasn't frightening. Matias' presence was steady, protective, even kind. He had saved Ace, and since then, the young dinosaur found himself drawn to him. In time, that hollow ache left by his mother's passing had begun to close.
Ace wanted to be strong, like Matias. Strong enough to protect, strong enough to never lose someone again.
A rustle caught his ear. Ace crouched low, tail stiff as he spotted a small group of lizards scuttling across the forest floor. His heart thudded, excitement and nervousness mixing together.
He stalked carefully, just as he'd seen Matias do, then lunged. His jaws snapped shut on one of the lizards, the others scattering in a panic. Ace held it proudly, shaking it once before placing his paw on it.
He wasn't as fast, nor as graceful as Matias, but it was a start.
Panting from the little struggle, Ace looked up through the canopy. He thought about what Matias would say when he returned. Maybe an approving rumble, or a nudge of his snout. Just thinking of it made Ace puff his chest a little, despite being small.
Yes—he would grow. He would keep getting stronger.
At this time, Ace had been trailing the Parasaurolophus herd for hours, watching their movements with sharp, hungry eyes. He was still small compared to them, but hunger and determination pushed him forward. Finally, one strayed too far from the safety of the herd—a young one, limping slightly.
With a low growl, Ace burst from the undergrowth. The Parasaurolophus trumpeted in alarm, swinging its tail in defense. Ace lunged at its leg, teeth sinking in, but the herbivore kicked wildly, sending him tumbling back.
Pain shot through his side, but he refused to give up. Snarling, Ace charged again, dodging another desperate kick and leaping up to clamp down on its neck. The Parasaurolophus thrashed, slamming him against a tree, but Ace tightened his jaws, claws digging deep.
It was a brutal struggle—every movement tested his strength against the sheer size difference. His body screamed for him to let go, but Ace only bit down harder.
The Parasaurolophus staggered, blood streaming from its wounds, until at last it collapsed with a final cry. Ace stood over the fallen prey, panting heavily, his body aching but his eyes blazing with triumph. He had done it—alone.
As he began to tear into his hard-earned kill, a rustle came from the bushes. Ace's head shot up, a warning growl rumbling from his throat. From the shadows stepped another young predator—its green-gray scales glinting in the light, its build heavier and bulkier than Ace's. A Tarbosaurus. About the same age, but carrying scars, its body thin from hunger and limping slightly from a half-healed wound.
The stranger froze at Ace's growl, lowering its head but not backing away. Its amber eyes flicked between Ace and the carcass, full of longing but also caution.
Ace's instinct told him to chase it off—this was his kill. Yet as he looked closer, he saw the weakness in the Tarbosaurus' movements, the way it trembled from exhaustion. Alone. Vulnerable.
Something inside Ace stirred. He remembered the warmth of his mother before she was gone, and how Matias had shared food with him when he had nothing. Slowly, he stepped aside, giving a low rumble that wasn't quite hostile. The Tarbosaurus blinked, surprised.
For a long moment, the young predator hesitated, torn between fear and hunger. Then, cautiously, it edged closer and tore off a small piece of meat. When Ace didn't attack, it relaxed slightly, joining him in the meal.
Ace glanced at him again, curious. Who was this? Why was he alone? He didn't know yet—but as they ate side by side, Ace felt that maybe, just maybe, this strange Tarbosaurus could be his new ally.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the island, Matias let out a thunderous roar that shook the trees. His eyes locked onto a lone Stegosaurus, its plates bristling as it stood its ground. The herbivore bellowed defiantly, swinging its massive spiked tail in wide arcs to ward him off.
Matias lunged, jaws snapping, but the Stegosaurus was no easy prey—it countered with a violent swing of its tail. The sharpened spikes whooshed through the air, grazing past Matias' shoulder and slamming into the earth with bone-cracking force. A lesser predator would have been crushed instantly.
Snarling, Matias circled, muscles rippling as he feinted left then darted right, slamming his bulk against the Stegosaurus' side. The impact staggered the giant, but it refused to fall. It reared back, plates flashing in the sun, and swung its tail again—this time the spikes scraped against Matias' armored hide, drawing shallow gashes across his flank.
Pain flared, but Matias only grew more savage. With a roar, he clamped his jaws around the Stegosaurus' neck, forcing it to the ground. The herbivore thrashed violently, tail whipping in blind desperation. One spike struck his leg, tearing flesh, but Matias held firm, tightening his grip until the beast's struggles weakened.
At last, with a sickening crunch, the Stegosaurus collapsed, its body shuddering once before going still. Blood dripped from Matias' jaws as he stood over the carcass, victorious.
Tearing into his hard-earned kill, Matias devoured the flesh with ravenous hunger. The changes from his recent Brachiosaurus feast still surged within him, making his movements faster and more precise than ever before. His body thrummed with power as the system's cold voice echoed in his mind.
[ You have acquired new genetic traits! ]
[ Name: Spiked Tail ]
Matias felt the shift ripple through his body, his tail now heavier and deadlier. He swung it experimentally, the fused spiked club cutting through the air with a low, menacing whistle.
A deep satisfaction rumbled in his chest. With his hunger sated and his new weapon tested, he turned and began the trek back to his nest.
Matias retracted his long, sickle-like claws, flexing his forelimbs as his massive frame shifted. Bones creaked and muscles tightened, his posture lowering as he transitioned smoothly from towering biped to a grounded quadrupedal stance.
His weight rolled forward, each step deliberate, his bulk now carried with a predatory grace that seemed almost unnatural for a creature his size. Like a living juggernaut, he prowled low to the ground.
The forest parted before him as he lumbered through, leaving behind shattered branches and crushed ferns. When he finally returned, however, Matias froze.
There, nestled within the safety of his den, was Ace—excitedly chirping as he bounded toward him. But beside the little one stood another young dinosaur, its eyes wide and body trembling at the sight of the towering predator before it. The tarbosaurus hatchling pressed low to the ground, every instinct telling it to flee, yet its legs quivered too much to move.
Ace growled playfully, as if introducing a friend, his tail wagging in excitement. The little one's reaction was the opposite—eyes locked on Matias with terror.
Matias lowered his head, studying the newcomer. The resemblance struck him instantly. Those features…. Memories stirred of Speckles, the lone tarbosaurus who once fought to survive against impossible odds. The movie that he watched on a whim.
Matias' gaze softened. He didn't need an explanation. His instinct already told him what he needed to know clung to the hatchling—it had been abandoned, or had lost its kin.
With a low, rumbling exhale, Matias stepped closer. The tarbosaurus whimpered, but instead of striking, Matias simply rumbled deep in his chest, a sound of acknowledgment.
Ace chirped louder, pressing against Matias' leg as if pleading for acceptance.
After a long silence, Matias made his choice. This young one would stay.
The mighty predator curled protectively around his nest, his presence filling the cavern with reassurance. The hatchling, though wary, slowly lifted its head, watching as Matias settled down beside Ace.
For the first time in days, the little tarbosaurus felt something other than fear. It had been struggling after its parents were killed by another dinosaur.