The next morning, Logan woke to find two new Evolution Points waiting. The Conga he'd gut-kicked yesterday must have finally succumbed. He had to admit, the life force of monsters in this world was astounding—it had clung to life for hours with its intestines spilled.
He invested the points immediately into Enhanced Mobility. The warmth spread through his muscles, forging a new connection with his electrocyte network. Now, when he channeled a low current through his limbs, it would act as a supercharger, stimulating the muscle fibers to contract and relax with explosive speed, amplifying his already formidable agility.
By the time the adaptation was complete, night had fallen again.
Standing on a broad branch, Logan tested the new ability. A faint blue-white crackle of electricity danced across his pearlescent scales. A surge of exhilarating power followed, as if a latent governor had been removed. His already panther-like speed received another potent boost.
He became a white phantom, flitting through the canopy. His padded feet made no sound. To an ordinary observer, he'd be a fleeting afterimage.
Tonight, he intended to continue his campaign against the Blangonga. He slipped back into the fruiting woods, his infrared vision and echolocation allowing him to ghost past the Conga sentries, moving toward the heart of their territory.
He arrived at the three massive trees, but the giant nest was empty. No surprise there. Only a fool would sleep in the same place after such an ordeal.
He began a spiral search pattern. Two hours later, his infrared vision picked up a cluster of dense heat signatures.
He found them. The entire Conga troop was gathered around a colossal tree with a trunk over thirty meters thick. Midway up, a massive hollow had been carved out. Inside, a huge, weary heat signature lay motionless—the Blangonga.
Exhausted from a day and night of searing pain, the King had finally managed to sleep, surrounded by its protective troop.
Logan's golden eyes gleamed in the starlight. The tree was too well-guarded for another close-range ambush. But he hadn't come for nothing. If he couldn't get the King, he'd settle for tormenting it.
He dropped to the forest floor, his dexterous forepaws finding a fist-sized, smooth river stone. He climbed a tree overlooking the hollow, took careful aim, and hurled it.
The stone, propelled by his immense strength, became a missile. It shot through the air with a sharp whistle and vanished into the dark mouth of the tree hollow.
A roar of pain and fury answered. Logan couldn't see if he'd scored a direct hit, but it didn't matter. The goal was achieved.
The Blangonga, jolted from its hard-won sleep, exploded from the hollow. The troop erupted into chaotic shrieks and leaps, swarming the area, searching for the attacker.
But Logan was already gone, melting back into the shadows. With his sensory advantages, they had no hope of finding him.
After a long, fruitless search, the Congas began to settle. The Blangonga, grumbling, returned to its hollow, rearranged itself, and tried to sleep again.
Thwack.
Another stone found its mark inside the hollow.
Pandemonium. The Blangonga burst out again, eyes wild with rage and sleep deprivation, scanning the darkness. The troop milled about in confused anger.
Hidden in the dark, Logan watched, a faint, smug smile on his reptilian face. This harassment wouldn't cause real injury, but it was deliciously effective. The King's discomfort was his reward.
When the chaos died down a second time, he threw a third stone. This one, with perfect arc and aim, bonked off the Blangonga's horned head.
"GYAAAAAOOO!!"
That was the final insult. Enraged beyond reason, the Blangonga charged out, leading its bewildered troop in a blind charge toward the general direction of the attack.
Logan retreated calmly. His new electrified speed and silent movement made him untouchable in the complex terrain. He led them on a futile chase, always just out of reach, a taunting ghost in the trees.
Finally, the Blangonga gave up. It and its troop returned to the hollow tree, but sleep was now impossible. They perched on branches around it, eyes wide, nerves frayed, resolved to stay awake until dawn.
Logan considered his mission accomplished for the night. But he wouldn't leave empty-handed.
His gaze settled on a lone Conga stationed on the periphery of the restless group. He stalked it with infinite patience, his padded feet making no sound. He closed the distance, a shadow among shadows.
Then he struck.
He pounced, pinning the creature to the branch before it could cry out. His jaws clamped over its throat, cutting off air and blood flow. Within thirty seconds, it went limp.
He hoisted the several-hundred-pound carcass with ease—a mere burden for his evolved musculature—and carried it away from the tense, sleepless camp.
Back at the banyan root hollow, Peini heard him approach and came bounding out, tail wagging furiously. Seeing the "midnight snack," her excitement doubled. She butted her head affectionately against his chest, their scales rustling together with a sound like dry leaves.